a tardis full of doctor who stills

@ddagent created this incredible edit and this fell out of my brain…


“Bill, no!” Kate grabbed the young companion by the shoulders, dragging her away from the Doctor’s crumpled form. Scanning the room for additional threats as Bill struggled in her arms. Only one Dalek, thank god, but one had been more than enough.

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The Year of Intelligent Tigers

Some A shit ton of highlights of the last EDA I’ve read (The Year of Intelligent Tigers). Probably my longest post so far.

I took these screens while reading, along with my reactions. As usual, this is full of spoilers.

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“Of Conduct and Procedure: Multi-Faceted”

Fourth Installment, dedicated to @katiethemstie

Originally, the Eighth Doctor was all over this, but the fic evolved so that he doesn’t actually make himself physically known. He’s just talked about a lot. He’ll be present in a future installment, I’m sure, so for those of you who were looking forward to seeing him, don’t be disappointed. And for my Classic Who fans, look! It’s Seven!

The TARDIS was in between stages. She had changed a lot, under Seven’s watch, and at this point in her timeline, she was still a mix between the more sterile aura that Six had left behind and the dim-lit, paper-and-tea-scented, homey place she would be by time Seven would start losing his hair (which was a terrible shame, considering the Doctor’s tradition of keeping a fabulous head of hair through all his regenerations, but then again, who was Nine to judge?).

At the moment, though, Seven was still in his younger years and still the keeper of a full head of hair. And he was calmly preparing mint tea like it was nobody’s business, which was mostly true, seeing as the only other person in the TARDIS with him was… himself.

“So, what is the matter?” Seven asked. Nine immediately wanted to call Seven out on his placating tone, because I was you and I remember and I practically invented that tone of voice so don’t you dare use that on me, but he found himself… placated. Well, as much as he remembered being Seven, he had forgotten how good Seven was at this. This, being… well, whatever it was. “It must be something important if you crossed timelines to talk to yourself about it.”

“We met a girl,” said Nine.

“Oh, dear, that’s awfully specific,” Seven snarked casually, shifting the kettle. “Please, be more vague so that we can include basically every day of our lives and ninety-five percent of our companions.”

“Shut it. I’m the one who’s supposed to be a snark, not you,” Nine said. He would have been amused if he wasn’t in such a foul temper.

“Hmph. I can be whatever I want to be.” Seven shifted the kettle again, more out of habit than necessity, since moving the tea kettle did absolutely nothing. “So, tell me. What’s so important about the girl.”

“We love her.” Sometimes blunt really was the way to go, especially with one’s own self.

“We do?” Seven looked as startled as he had ever been, which was saying something, considering how many times he had gotten a gun pointed in his face. Really should be a bit more wary of guns, Nine thought, remembering Seven’s unfortunate and honestly stupid end, but it wasn’t as if he could warn his younger self, so he stayed silent on that matter. Seven stared Nine down, looking for some hint as to his future self’s meaning, and he must have found it genuine, because he suddenly went slack in his seat and said, “Oh, my. We do.”


Seven’s eyes darted aimlessly before settling on Nine’ shoe. “So. Love. I never thought….”

“Neither did I,” Nine agreed, bobbing his head in a nod. “But she’s fantastic.”

A small smile lit Seven’s face. “So, did you come just to tell me the big news, or did you need something? Not that news like that isn’t enough. I won’t be able to remember it, but I’ll still have that sensation of looking forward to something. Thank you.”

“S’pose I should tell the others,” Nine pondered, before shaking himself. “But I’m here because… well, I did something stupid.”

“Oh, of course,” Seven groaned. “I may not be particularly knowledgeable of your regeneration, seeing as you do come sometime after me, but I think I can guess that it was something you said. Our talent with words doesn’t seem to last past myself.”

“It does, though,” corrected the Ninth with a sneer. “It lasts through Eight, that’s for certain.”

For a moment or two, Seven was pleased, before he noticed Nine’s sneer of disdain. “Oh, dear. What does this have to do with Eight?”

“Well, y’see, it started…” Nine leaned forward, and so did Seven, both looking as though they were about to divulge the secrets of the universe. “Um… Oh, this is weird. Thing is, she’s human.”

“Human?” echoed Seven, his eyebrows shooting up to his hairline. “Well, I suppose that’s… very much like us, to give our affections to a human. I never really considered it, I don’t think.”

“You will.”

“Hm. So, what’s it like? Loving a… a human.”

“Fantastic.” Nine smiled. “Not like those Gallifreyan ladies. She’s not full of it, actin’ better’n I am ’cause-a station. She’s jus’… her. Wants to see the whole universe. I get to show her everythin’. And she tries so hard, jus’t’be alive. Harder’n any Gallifreyan in history ever bothered to.”

A warm, toasty feeling started to crackle to life between Seven’s hearts. “That sounds… wonderful.”

“Is. Problem, though,” admitted Nine.

Seven turned to gather two teacups from the cabinet. Nine looked at the delicate cups with some level of amusement. They didn’t really suit him or Seven, but they had been around for so long, he couldn’t imagine getting rid of them. He hadn’t dared to take them out around you, but now that he thought about it, maybe you would find them as funny as he did.

“Of course there is,” said Seven, snatching the kettle off the burner (and, really, was that a Bunsen burner? Why did he even own one of those, much less make tea on it?). “Go on.”

“Well, being human, she doesn’t really know about the courtin’ procedures,” Nine admitted. Seven saw where the conversation was going and immediately groaned and allowed his head to bump against the cabinet door with a dull thud. “My thoughts exactly. And the worst part is’at I’m not all that good at courtin’ in the first place. I tried a few little things, messed the last one up horribly.”

“Double down,” Seven mused. “So you want me to help–” and then Seven paused, because the whole conversation clicked in his mind like the final piece of a jigsaw puzzle. “Eight is good with words, you said. You went to him for help.”

“Yeah,” said Nine. “Eight is… well, you’ll understand when you’re him, but it seemed like the perfect plan. He’s good with that sort of… thing. Women, I guess. He practically memorized the courting procedures, and he’s very… charming, y’could say, so I thought it would work.”

“What would work? You didn’t… oh. You did.”

“I took ’er t’see’im,” Nine admitted, scrubbing a palm down his face and covering his eyes. Seven scooted a cup of freshly-brewed tea under the other Doctor’s rather prominent nose. The steam rose up and wetted Nine’s skin. “It seemed like a good idea. He was so lonely, y’know. That body wanted love more’n any o’ the others did, so I thought he would be the most willing to help. Was a bit too willing.”

“Ah.” Seven sipped his tea and instantly regretted it. The liquid was scalding. “So.”

“He was all over her!” Nine exclaimed, suddenly throwing both hands into the air. If he hadn’t been feeling so tired, he might have jumped out of his chair to pace, as well. “I swear, second I told him who she was to us, he practically ran over and snogged her right then and there.”

“Well, you did say he wanted love more than the rest of us, and that’s saying something, considering how much we’ve wanted a… a bond-mate, over the centuries.”

Nine scoffed. “Either way, he was ridiculous. Eight’s very tactile, no sense of personal space, so I was expecting him to get a bit touchy with her, but he had her sitting on his lap. On his lap, hear me? I’ve known her for years, few weeks ago I finally get her to lie down on the couch with me, and in less than five minutes he’s got her on his lap, holding his hand. Oh, n’his hands were everywhere. On her face, in her hair, on her thigh, blast it. And she didn’t stop ’im, either.”

“Why would you want her to?” Seven asked, confused. “He’s us, he was forward enough to initiate courting touches, and she accepted. That’s perfect. What’s the problem?”

“She’s human, Doctor,” said Nine, frowning. “From a Gallifreyan woman, that might have been perfect, but she’s human. To her, it wasn’t me. It was a man who was more handsome and better spoken than me, touching her, and she was fine with it.”

“So you didn’t tell her that you and Eight are the same person? That we’re all the Doctor, despite our differences?” asked Seven, who was beginning to wonder if his counterpart had lost some brain cells through regeneration.

“Of course I did, but–”

“But nothing!” Seven cut his future self off abruptly. “You explained to her that Eight is you, she met Eight, and she accepted his courting offers. Maybe she doesn’t know the first thing about courting procedures, but it sounds to me as if he was making himself rather obvious. If she accepted it from him, then she accepted it from you, just as much as from me and all of us who come before and after.”

Nine was silent.

“I don’t know how your regeneration thinks,” Seven continued, voice much softer, “but I don’t think we would fall in love with a girl who wouldn’t love all of us. If she is who I hope she is, then she knows that we’re all… us. If she accepted Eight, she accepted us all, and that includes you, in case you didn’t notice. Now, stop being a jealous sod and go to her.”

Slowly, Nine eased his way out of his chair. His eyes wandered over the TARDIS’s mixed interior, obviously recalling when it had been his, what had come before and what would come after. Then he looked down at Seven, and Seven saw a light in his eyes that hadn’t been there before.

“I’d better get back to her, then,” Nine said, a smile playing at his lips but not coming all the way through. “Y’know… seems t’me like ya understand it all better than I do, and you haven’t even met her yet.”

“Maybe so,” Seven admitted, shrugging. He dipped his head down to take a sip of tea, but, remembering the perfectly unacceptable temperature, he refrained. “Still, would you give her my love?”

The smile turned into a full grin. “Aye. I’ll do that.”

And just like that, Nine swiftly escaped from Seven’s TARDIS and into the rough terrain of whatever planet they had agreed to meet each other on. Seven knew that Nine’s TARDIS couldn’t be far away, which meant that you were probably close by. He stamped down the temptation to follow Nine, to catch a glimpse of you, or maybe just to hear your voice. He wanted to know. As confident as he had acted for his counterpart’s sake, he didn’t know anything about you, and he wished… he just wanted to know something about you. Anything.

Someday, he thought, sipping the tea that had finally cooled, someday.

He would have to forget all of this. If he didn’t, it would cause a paradox. But there was nothing saying that he had to forget immediately. He could keep the memory for a day, or two. Maybe… maybe, if he kept the memory overnight, he would dream of you. Yes. Just overnight, and then he would make himself forget. Until then, though… he could imagine.

Fic: She Almost Got Away With It

Rating: All ages

Pairing: Tentoo x Rose


Tags: fluff (I swear I’m working on some less fluffy multichaps right now!)

Find it: AO3 link

Words: 1096

Notes: written for @timepetalsprompts weekly prompt: “It’s really hot in here and you’re really distracting.” This is my first timepetals fic! Yayyyy! (I hope I’m doing it right) BTW, the look of the Doctor’s repair swing and his goggles are the ones the Eleventh Doctor uses in “The Doctor’s Wife.” I always thought they were really cool, so I let Tentoo have them also :-) Unbeta’d so all mistakes are mine.

Also shout out to  


because I took your template for rating/pairing/etc. and used it here since it was elegant and simple and I really still can’t tumblr yet. I’m happy to remove it or change it if you would like me to.

The Doctor was in his grungy “repair hammock-thing” as Rose called it, growing grumpier by the minute. Normally, he loved sitting in this quirky contraption; it was made of cables, an old harness, and a swing he may or may not have stolen from a playground in Ireland when he and Rose were on holiday a couple of years ago (and at the time he may or may not have overestimated his ability to metabolize alcohol in this new slightly human body). He was wearing his cool steampunky work goggles and tinkering away under the TARDIS console, which was his absolute favorite thing in the universe to do that didn’t involve Rose. He should be having a grand time, but he’d been down here for three hours and forty-one minutes and had been miserable for three hours and thirty-six of them. One thing after another kept complicating his repairs, and it was really annoying him. Two hours and three minutes in, he decided to try Rose’s ten-minute deep breathing exercise that was supposed to help him be more patient. The attempt had been the most boring twelve seconds of his life, and he continued his repairs just as frustrated.

The Doctor plucked a worn pair of pliers from the tool belt he wore and brought it up to a nest of tangled metallic wires. He carefully snipped a thin, frayed gold one, then swore as a spark hit the back of his hand for the third time in a minute. He drew it back, dropping the pliers and wincing at the metal-on-metal clang reverberating through the small space. Okay, that was it.

“If you’d just stop fussing, I could get this done faster and then your thermal regulation circuits won’t keep getting tangled!” He yelled. The Doctor felt the TARDIS’ instant and very stubborn response prickle in his mind and groaned. “No I can’t just ‘let them stay tangled,’ and you know it.” That was part of why this repair job was so unpleasant; with the thermal regulation circuits malfunctioning, the air under the console was stuffy and stagnant.

He and Rose had grown this TARDIS from a tiny piece of coral, the last link he’d ever have to the TARDIS he stole to run away from Gallifrey. She was precious to him in a way that he couldn’t express in words. Donna’s brilliant suggestion about shatterfrying the plasmic shell and such had indeed rapidly accelerated her growth. However, while the TARDIS may have physically been “full grown,” she was a sentient being who was still the equivalent of a child in terms of emotional development. Most of the time, the Doctor and Rose rather liked this; it was like watching their baby grow up. But as every parent knew, there were times when your little darling could drive you mad.

Wire after wire, cable after cable, the Doctor continued the tedious work of untangling the components that made up the TARDIS’s thermal regulation circuits and adjusting their positioning so they wouldn’t get tangled again. The TARDIS would give him the telepathic equivalent of a whine every time the Doctor hit a particularly challenging snag.

Twenty minutes later, he was wiping the sweat from his brow when he heard Rose’s panicked voice echoing through the console room, her footsteps heavy and frantic.

“Doctor! Doctor, what’s wrong?!” She was down the stairs to the repair area in a flash. What’s goin’ on? Are you okay?” He was about to reassure her that he was perfectly well, but she rambled on. “I was just gettin’ ready for bed an’ all of a sudden, a blarin’ mauve alert was throbbin’ in me head, so I ran down here.” Her accent, which had softened over the years, had returned with a vengeance, so he knew she was quite upset.

The Doctor was bewildered and slightly concerned over Rose’s distress. He hadn’t sent any specific messages through their telepathic link. He took off his heavy tool belt and strode to her side, gripping her upper arms and looking into her eyes. “Rose, look at me. I’m fine. Everything’s fine.”

Her eyes roamed his body from head to toe and seeing that he really was just fine, she took a deep breath and her whole body relaxed. “I’m glad everything is okay,” she said with a smile. “What was that alert all about, though?”

The Doctor didn’t even hear her question, because he’d just noticed what she was wearing, which happened to be the gorgeous deep purple negligee he’d gotten her on Fiegra Prime a few days ago. They hadn’t gotten a chance to, um, try it out yet.

Rose noticed his stare and smirked. “I told you I was getting ready for bed,” she said, her voice dropping to a smoky, seductive murmur. The Doctor smirked right back and leaned in to kiss her, but when their lips were just centimeters apart, he jerked back suddenly.

“Wait a minute. I didn’t send you the mauve alert.” His eyes widened in understanding and he moved his gaze to the ceiling. “Oh, nice try, girl. Well done. You almost got away with it, too!” He chuckled and shook his head.

Rose looked at him quizzically. The Doctor tried not to focus on the sheen of sweat that had formed across her chest brought on by the stifling air under the console. “Seems our dear TARDIS had a few ideas about how to get me to stop repairing her thermal regulation circuits,” he told Rose. “She made it really hot in here to try to get me to give up, and when that didn’t work, she tried to distract my by getting you to run in here wearing… that.” He gulped.

Rose laughed and gazed up at the ceiling herself. “Points for cleverness, but you’ve got to let the Doctor make these repairs, and you know it,” she said in gently chiding tones. The TARDIS hummed petulantly, but Rose then felt something like a resigned sigh come from the time ship. Rose scooped up the tool belt the Doctor had dropped when she came running in. “I’ll help you,” she told him, “and we’ll be done in no time.”

“Oh, no,” the Doctor said vehemently, pushing her back towards the stairs. “It’ll take twice as long if you stay.” On Rose’s confused look he clarified, “The TARDIS had the right idea. It’s really hot in here and you’re really distracting.”

Rose rolled her eyes at his saucy wink as she went up the stairs and back to their bedroom to wait for the Doctor.

Rose’s theme is the most romantic, full of love and devotion, undoubtedly to the Doctor. It’s so loyal and patient. Her theme basically says “I’m here for you, always always.” And there’s no hopelessness to it, the whole thing feels very reciprocated. Her theme is such a love story, a happy one.

Martha’s theme is fierce and triumphant and majestic, fit for a Queen such as herself, yet it has such longing in it. But it also has this kind of resigned feel to it, something in it just screams “I know when to let go, so I did”. But at the end, the theme still ends victoriously.

Donna’s theme is so playful and cheeky and investigative, all the way to the end. I think they should’ve added some underlying sadness to it, as a foreshadowing to what eventually happens to her but I still like it. To me, it means Donna is still Donna, one of the very best, regardless of what happened to her. It also ends very abruptly, which is really symbolic. 

Amy’s theme belongs in a fairy tale, so magical and full of child-like wonder. It’s slow in the beginning (when she waited), picks up in the middle (when her story with the Doctor finally starts for real) and at the end it has a very tragic note (hinting at her untimely death no doubt). (It’s lovely, but I prefer Amy in the TARDIS).

Clara is the only one who doesn’t have an official theme called ‘Clara’s Theme’. I usually associate the first part of ‘Remember Me’ as her theme, minus the Eleventh Doctor’s part in it towards the end. But ‘Clara in the TARDIS’ is a good substitute too.

Nevertheless, Clara’s theme is so adventurous and curious and brave. There’s also something subtly romantic about it, but unlike Rose’s Theme, it’s not front and center, the daring and venturesome part is more prominent. There’s something sad about it too, but it’s in the background as well. It’s also the catchiest theme out of them all, which is very fitting tbh, the girl herself is hard to get out of one’s head.

Murray Gold is incredible, he managed to capture all the companions personalities and stories in their respective themes. I hope he keeps on composing for New Who forever.

George Baker on Twitter: Peter got inside a wardrobe  #dwsr

Such an adorable video. There were a lot of kids and families visiting the Doctor Who filming set on Friday (August 12, 2016). One family brought their TARDIS wardrobe and sat it down on the grass opposite the filming site, the Fields House, across the street. When it came time to meet and greet, Peter came over to say hello and eventually took part in posing with the TARDIS wardrobe. He literally stepped inside the miniaturized version of his real police box and took photos with the kids. :)

This is another reason why I love this man so much. He’s working several hours on the set in full costume, but he still has fun with the job and reaches the level of the fans waiting to see him. He also takes the time to play with the children and pose with them. That is a great guy right there! ♥

Do You Want to Steal a TARDIS? (Full)
NRH (thunderingstars)
Do You Want to Steal a TARDIS? (Full)

Here’s the full version!  First verse written by davidtennantssideburns, second and third by me.

Do you want to steal a TARDIS?
Come on, let’s fly away
I never see you anymore
What are the ‘drums of war?
It’s like you’ve gone insane!
We used to be best buddies
and now we’re not –
I wish you could tell me why…
Do you want to steal a TARDIS?
We could go on an adventure!
(Go away, Doctor.)
Okay, bye…

Do you want to steal a TARDIS?
We’ll go to planets far and wide
It’s so lonely out here without you
Well, I’ve got companions, true
But I still want you by my side!
You’re the only other Time Lord
in all of space;
Think what we both could do!
(*Master taps*)

Master, please won’t you regenerate —
I know you really can.
I don’t know why I can’t through,
I’ve always known that you
can be a better man.
We’ve always had each other,
just you and me…
What am I gonna do?
Do you wanna steal a TARDIS…?

Eleven's Regeneration

Prompt: Can you please write a fic about the regeneration? Maybe from the Doctor’s perspective. Or change it a bit.


“No, no! Please don’t change,” Clara whispers, reaching for the Doctor.

“Stay back!” the Doctor snaps, but then he smiles, sadly. He doesn’t want to scare her. Not Clara. “I’ll be fine. Change is good, Clara. Change is good. It has to happen. This isn’t the end of the story. This is just the next chapter.”

“You’re lying! What if you die?”

His hearts ache. With guilt and shame. He’s lied to Clara. She trusted him, always has, and he’s repaid that with dishonesty and flashy words and dashing gestures.

Never again. Never again will he do that to her.

“I won’t die, Clara. I won’t die because you’re here. And you need me. But that’s okay, because I need you too.”

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Eight helping Aloisse the Krakenite regain her lost eyesight (Dreamstone Moon).

The Doctor looked into Aloisse’s huge eye, into each of the linked pupils in turn.

‘Can you see my face?’ he asked.

'It’s all dots. Dots here, dots there…’ The Krakenite sounded weary,
exasperated. 'I’m sorry, Doctor, but I don’t think that this piece of
technology is going to work for me.’

'Give it time ’.

As if to emphasise his words further, one of the TARDIS clocks chimed.
The Doctor counted: one, two, three, four, four and a half -
Hmm. A little slow.

Aloisse withdrew her eye.'I think I’d prefer to be blind.

'No, you wouldn’t.’ The Doctor adjusted the controls of the gaudy strap-on
sensor above Aloisse’s eye stalk, increasing the resolution, decreasing the
sensitivity. 'Is that better?’

A pause. 'Yes. I can see you now. The colours are a bit strange.’


THROWBACK THURSDAY: David Tennant & Freema Agyeman Doctor Who Cast Announcement (2006)

FREEMA: “I’ve been keeping this secret from my friends for months - it’s been driving me mad! Auditioning with David in secret down in Cardiff was unbelievable, but I never in my wildest dreams thought I’d actually become the new companion. Billie rightfully built up an amazing fan base and she will be missed, but I hope the fans are willing to go on new adventures with me. It still hasn’t quite sunk in, I’m sure it will slam home first day on set when I’m stood gazing at David Tennant!”

DAVID: “Freema was a joy to work with in episode 12 of the current series. She is not only very talented and very beautiful, she’s great fun and I’m delighted she’s coming on board the TARDIS full time. I can’t wait to welcome her into the Who family.”


You know–Clara’s character arc could easily be looked at as negative character development. But I just can’t seem to view it that way. In Bells of St. John, there she was: A sweet, peppy, curious girl who refused to travel with the Doctor full time in favor of maintaining her home life. She didn’t run out on the people she cared about. Throughout her travels with Eleven, she remained soft and cautious. 

As we see her grow in S8 and S9, something changes. First, she struggles to maintain her home/Tardis balance, but she tries her damnedest. She still values her time on Earth greatly, still cares about keeping a somewhat normal home life–but not at the expense of her time with the Doctor. After losing Danny, it’s like there’s nothing grounding her anymore. By the time we met her this season, she gleefully took a leave of absence from her job to help the Doctor. That was the only time, I believe, that we see her on Earth doing normal Earth things. She presumably still maintains her job–she mentions school a few times, and the Doctor even took a mid-season trip without her. But you can see her priorities plain as day. She becomes intoxicated by the thrill of traveling, the fear of the unknown, the danger. She’s found a stage where she can be wholly herself. She loves taking control of a situation no matter what, but these are high stakes situations, and she enjoys every second. Her confident, adventerous side has been discovered, never to be pushed below the surface again. 

But here’s the thing. These are all just additions to what we first knew of her, not replacement traits. Clara didn’t become some controlling, lying, fierce being through her travels. The Doctor did not make her that way, or turn her into a weapon. While she was a people pleaser who loved making him proud, she didn’t adopt any qualities for his sake. She knew who she was from the moment we met her, and never wavered. She was those things all along. Being around her Doctor just accessed a part of her she had kept under a neatly kept image, an image that she thought was more polite or likable. She happened to be given a man who was proud of her flaws, who thought she was brilliant because of them. Who loved her exactly for who she was, even if he worried about her sometimes. 

I guess my point is, she didn’t become reckless because she got caught up in the Doctor’s lifestyle. This was Clara’s lifestyle. This was Clara, brilliant on adrenaline. This was who she was. Not like the Doctor. Just Clara. And the reason why her death was not some stupid cautionary tale was because she died being herself. The only good way to die, I reckon. It was miscommunication that killed her, nothing else. She died being funny and brave and clever and compassionate. And kind. Her last thoughts weren’t about herself, they were about her Doctor. About making sure Rigsy didn’t feel guilty, about making sure the Doctor knew he didn’t need to say a word for her to understand everything he felt for her. Even with her sense of invincibility, her passion for being among the stars, she never lost the things that made her so incredibly human. She was so achingly human. She died comforting her friend, reminding him to be good. And she didn’t run. Because she didn’t run out on the people she cared about. Not on page one, and not on the last page, either.