are they even real doctor

five times bill ran into the queen of evil 1/?

sorry couldn’t resist
have some really shitty PG, wholesome drabble:

‘Who’s she, then?’ Bill asks, gesturing down the corridor with her head.

The Doctor frowns at her. To be fair, though, his face is sort of permanently a frown. 'Who’s who?’

Bill sighs. 'That woman! Y'know, the one with the…weird, old-timey clothes. I dunno. Like Phantom of the Opera or something. Where you been keeping her, then?’

Okay. The Doctor’s face darkens so far beyond a frown, Bill doesn’t even know what to call it.

The Doctor grabs her arm - not at all gently. 'Bill. I need you to answer this very, very carefully. What did you see?’

She wants to shove him off her, but something in his expression makes her think twice. She thinks she can smell danger. ‘Um, okay. I was looking for the laundry, trying to do my clothes. I walked past – I dunno, sort of like a trophy room, I guess – and there she was. What, is she an alien or something?’

The Doctor glances around, and pulls her further into the console room. ‘No. Well, yes, but – oh, forget it. Did she talk to you? Threaten you?’

‘What? No, course not, she said hello – I just assumed she was some friend of yours, I mean, she knows you,’ Bill says, thoroughly convinced he’s overreacting. ‘Actually,’ she adds, dropping her voice to a whisper, ‘She’s kind of fit. Always liked the Scottish thing.’

The Doctor’s eyes bug so far out of his skull, Bill starts to worry he’s having an aneurysm.

‘What? What is it? She some kind of ex-wife?’ Bill prods, prising his hand off her elbow.

‘Stop it, be quiet, and listen,’ he snaps. She reflexively takes a step back. ‘She’s a Time Lord, like me – well, Time Lady. She likes to be called the Master.’

Bill’s eyebrows hit the ceiling. ‘Are you all Scottish, then? Do you all have weird names, like is one of you called the Bachelor?’

‘Please, Bill,’ the Doctor begs, crouching down and grabbing her hand. ‘You have no idea what she’s capable of. We are talking about the most dangerous person in the Universe,’ and he pauses, scowling again, ‘and she’s on my bloody TARDIS!’

Bill absorbs this information. ‘Right. What do we do?’

‘And no,’ the Doctor adds, ‘She just really likes copying me.’

They grin at each other.

Ego Incorporated (pt. 2)

Amy looked up at the building, back down at the gray business card Dark had included with the invitation, and back up at the building. She had the address right.

The building was taller than she’d expected and was covered in reflective windows. The traffic behind and around her seemed to bend oddly around the entire building. Nobody looked at it. No other cars stopped outside. It’s almost as if it didn’t exist.

Amy smiled. And stepped inside.

On the other side of the rotating doors was a posh lobby complete with a front desk, a trickling water feature, and even thick, pink(?) carpet. And did she smell bubblegum?

“Well, hello there! What an unexpected surprise!” That drawl was unmistakable. Amy whirled around and came face to bowtie with Wilford Warfstache himself in all his pink glory. “You must be the inimitable Miss Peebles!”

Amy opened her mouth, but Warfstache spoke. “I assume you’re here for the grand tour! But of course, of course!” He draped a strong (and disturbingly familiar) arm around her shoulders and swept Amy away into an elevator, mashing the button for the second floor and humming a tune she only half-recognized as “Uptown Funk.”

“Where are we…?” Amy started just before the elevator doors slid open to reveal a bustling clinic. It startled her so much that she barely felt Wilford push her forward into the fray. With all the flare of a TV drama, Dr. Iplier swept into the room, scrubs pristine and clipboard in hand.

“Shut up, nurse!” he shouted, tossing the clipboard over his shoulder and stopping in front of Wilford and Amy. “Oh, dear. You poor young woman, what could possibly be ailing such a beautiful lady such as yourself?” He spun her into the crook of his arm and dipped her back as though he was cradling a swooning person. “How can I be of assistance.”

Well, somebody got all of Mark’s charms, she thought, trying her hardest not to blush. “Um, I’m fine actually, and I’d kind of appreciate it if you let me go now.”

Wilford snatched her away from the Doctor and tucked her back under his arm. “Hands off, Doc. I’m giving the young lady a tour, and there’s no time for fooling around!” The Cotton Candy Killer escorted Amy through the clinic, deftly avoiding the jutting elbows and rolling stretchers.

“Is it really legal for him to treat all these people here? Is he even a real doctor?” Amy felt like her head was going to pop off from how quickly she was whipping it around in every direction.

“Of course, he’s a real doctor! It’s in his name, isn’t it?” Wilford brought them to another elevator and mashed the button like he was gouging out an eye. “However, I feel the need to inform you that many of the people here are actors.” Amy’s eyes bulged, but Warfstache just shrugged. “The Doctor likes to play clinic, and we had extra money in the budget,” he said flippantly as an actor pretended to puke into a trashcan and they popped back into the elevator.

“Now, where shall we go next?” Wilford cried, pressing another button before Amy could answer, but she bit back a wide smile. She felt like Alice fallen down the rabbit hole, and she couldn’t wait to see just how far down it went.

anonymous asked:

I recently went to the hospital for a suicide attempt. They asked me a bunch of questions and one of them was "Do you believe in witchcraft?" I mad the mistake of saying yes and they kept me longer and kept bashing "witches aren't real" into my thoughts. One doctor even says "thinking you are a witch is a sign of schizophrenia." There's nobody that can relate with me and I feel like I'm drifting away from the path. Is there anything I can do?

Well first and foremost, work on your health. If you don’t want to do it for yourself, then do it for me and the rest of us that are in this community, as we stand stronger together - we need you here with us! I am not a medical professional, so take this advice as it is, but just remember who you are through everything and that witchcraft has never been the most understood path we can take. There isn’t always evidence or proof to what we do, so most don’t understand, and its a blessing and a curse in itself. In everything though, work on yourself and your health first, and everything else second.

Chamber of Secrets - Part 9

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Summary: After the Avenger’s falling out, you were put in charge of putting Bucky together. Under King T’Challa’s orders, you were given a month’s time to create a new arm while simultaneously figure out how to get the triggering memories of his past out of his mind. As the time goes by, you found yourself confiding in him, despite his frozen state.

A/N: The tags are kinda fucked up lately, so if the tags aren’t working, I’ll just re-tag you guys when it’s fixed. 

Previous Part

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Guzma Therapy Session 2

( edited by one of my friends who may actually be robot programed to cheer people up @supersquiddle )

“Fuck you Doc.”

“That’s how we’re starting this?”

“I fuckin’ talked to her and it was a disaster. Fuck you.”

The therapist checked his notes then saw the issue from last week and the woman he told him to speak to. “My apologies; I had forgotten about that. So you really did it?” He sounded surprised. That statement got under Guzma’s skin. Unknowingly to him that was the intention.

“Fucking seriously? I thought this was supposed to create some god damn breakthrough and shit, and you forgot?” he asked, irritated and dumbfounded.

“You’re not my only client,” the therapist reminded, “so tell me what happened.”

He shrugged with a huff and explained, “she was just mad. The whole time. Like I tried to tell her why an’ shit but she wouldn’t listen.” -he rocked a little in his chair- “she fucking yelled then told me to leave and the more worked up I got the more I yelled back.”

“So you left?” the doc asked, pressing him for more of a response.

“Uh…it got complicated. She wanted me to pay for damages and I kept yelling about not payin’ for it…” he then trailed off.


“And I’m going back on tuesday to pull weeds in her yard,” the boss admitted under his breath.

The doctor chuckled a little. Guzma tensed up at that response before grimacing and cocking his eyebrow, silently asking for clarification. The doctor just smiled back. “I think that’s great.”

“You’re one sick fuck doc.”


He growled, “you like to see me suffer, I’m convinced; that’s why you do this job. I bet you stroke your dick later to all the stupid shit people do based on your advice.”

“I didn’t tell you to do her yard work. You could have walked away in anger but you didn’t because you felt bad. You also care what she thinks so you’re making an effort to make it right.”

Guzma drew back in his seat. He felt played. He took a small silver flask out of his jacket, sipped it then set it on his lap before shrugging. “Well then… Fuck it. Maybe ya right. Maybe if I do the bitches’ yard work she’ll admit my tagging was good and how she was totally fucking rude and shit.”

The doc leaned forward. “Or maybe she will still think your stupid drawing sucks,” he said in a low voice, prompting Guzma to lean in angrily before he continued, “and then you can offer to show her how much better you’ve gotten since.”

The boss tilted his head in thought. “So… Tag her house again?”

He exhaled slowly. “No… As in paint her something nice that she can keep. Now, you’re half way through your time so let’s talk more about the past” the doctor suggested as he leaned back, relaxed.”

“Oh shit yeah; I thought of one you won’t fucking judge.”

“You think i’m judging you?”

Guzma stifled a laugh. “I also think gravity exists. Anywho I come out like a champ in this story so shut up and enjoy. I was like 13 or so but I was a scrappy kid. I saw a bully picking on some dumb kid and I ain’t the type to sit back and watch that. I stormed over there with a mean look and told the little punk off. He tried to get all tough and shit and get in my face so I fuckin’ headbutted him. Broke the bastard’s nose. He started crying and crying and all us kids started laughing at him” -he grinned smugly- “the poor little nerdy kid thought I was a hero! Shoot I almost got asked out by a girl over it. I know you’re like fifty million years old but that was a big fucking deal back then. Soon enough the whole school knew if you picked on people you had to deal with me!” exclaimed Guzma, clearly excited and proud about that memory.

The doctor, however, was not amused. “You’re not serious aren’t you. That’s how you remember it? Let me take a guess at how things actually happened… You probably bullied kids over the years thinking you weren’t hurting anyone, that it was all just a game and that everyone was having fun. Then one day you saw it for what it is: hateful. And like a hypocrite you stormed in and decided to be judge, jury and executioner and just violently attack someone for their wrongdoings. Then you mocked them, probably leading to them feeling broken and outcasted the rest of their school life, meanwhile you stood tall and proud while hogging all the glory.”

“You’re forgetting the part where I was asked out,” deflected Guzma. His brain didn’t know how to take in everything else he had just heard. He tapped his foot in frustration and looked at the ground. “…This is bullshit bro. Who are you, my dad? He never thought i did anything right either…”

The doctor’s eyes seemed to light up in interest. “So you’re ready to talk about your parents?”

“Ya know what? Fine. Let’s do it. You aint fucking ready for this can of worms,” he warned.
“Too bad, we’ll open that later; were out of time,” the doc said with a wicked smile, glancing at the clock.

Guzma’s eyelid twitched, “You’ve gotta be shittin me!”

“No, I’m not. I have more homework for you though; I want you to do a good thing, that doesn’t involve violence, to someone without taking any glory. They can never know you helped them.”

“Are you even a real doctor??”

“That’s what i keep telling my patients.”

Take Care

An unfinished fic I totally forgot I had been writing. Pregnant Bulma is sick and an awkward helpless Vegeta tries to take care of her. 


“Hey, Dad? Have you seen Mom today?” Trunks asked Vegeta. He was toweling off, straight from the shower room in his training area. He had one down the hall from Vegeta’s. He hadn’t trained in months, and Vegeta had been so pleased to see his son active, that the question threw him off guard.

“What? Of course I’ve seen her. Just this morning.”

“At breakfast?”

“No. She always eats later than I do.” He smirked knowingly at his son. “Lazy woman…” But Trunks’s eyebrows furrowed.

“We were supposed to work on something earlier today. She wasn’t at the lab, so I came up here to train. I just figured she forgot.”

“Hn. You’re mother doesn’t forget easily.” He frowned slightly. “Why don’t you just read her ki if you can’t find her? It’s weak, but it’s not that hard to find.” Vegeta said gruffly. Trunks sighed with exasperation.

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anonymous asked:

McKirk AU where Bones is a doctor who helps injured soldiers with PT sometimes and Jim comes in after his chopper is shot down for a back injury (I may or may not have based this idea on Jack Ryan)

  • Jim’s been jogging in the morning for as long as he can remember, having that suddenly taken away from him takes a huge hit on his mental state. He joins the military in the attempt to make the world a better place, but a helicopter crash brings that to an abrupt end. Jim is bedridden for months, the pain in his back and his legs nearly unbearable. The doctors say that’s a good thing, though. Say that means he’s not paralyzed. But there’s definitely times where Jim feels like he would take being paralyzed over suffering to that constant ache and discomfort in his legs.
  • More annoying than the constant ache, though, is that his legs somehow seemed to have forgotten how to function properly. They don’t always react as quickly as Jim would want to, or they don’t react at all. Now, Jim’s quite fast with a wheelchair, but he’s too stubborn not to want to walk again at some point. It takes him at least another month or two before he’s finally able to move his legs enough to stand on his feet, but only briefly so. He thinks that rehabilitation training’s going to be easy - but boy, was he wrong. 
  • Leonard McCoy is the core reason it isn’t easy. For every step Jim’s body is able to take, Leonard demands he takes two. Pushing himself was a thing Jim enjoyed when working out. Now, not so much. Everyone in the training room is busy on their own rehabilitation. People are walking on a treadmill, slowly. Some manage to run short distances again under close supervision. Others are on crosstrainers, or whatever else their trainer has advised them to. Leonard doesn’t let Jim touch any of the fancy equipment. Instead, he gives him a walking stick to lean on, and he makes him walk. Despite all these people doing their own thing, Jim feels oddly exposed when he walks. Like they’re judging him. But really, the only one clearly judging is Leonard.
  • His body has been nagging at him all day, and at some point, while Jim’s doing his best to cross the room, it just gives in. Hitting the ground itself isn’t so hard, but the damage done on his own ego feels more painful. “I can’t do this,” Jim says when he notices Leonard approach. The other crouches down in front of him. “I know you can,” Leonard replies. “How?” “Because if you weren’t going to be able to walk again, you wouldn’t be able to take those steps you just took,” Leonard replies, “c'mon. Ten more minutes, then I’ll give your legs a good massage.” “Better come with a happy ending,” Jim huffs. He takes Leonard’s hand, grunting when the weight of his body is put back on his strained legs. “Keep dreaming,” Leonard replies, patting Jim’s shoulder, and taking a few steps backwards. “Ten more minutes, James.”
  • “You know, I’m not even sure you’re a real doctor,” Jim says one day. He’s lying on his back on a yoga mat, and Leonard’s on his knees next to him, helping him pull his leg to his chest. The position is a little awkward, the stretch definitely uncomfortable. “You’re right,” Leonard says, “I’m not. You’re the last two credits I need to become one, though.” “I’m a school project to you?” Jim asks. “Yeah,” Leonard replies, blatantly honest. “Oh, that’s great. You’re not even a qualified doctor,” Jim complains - something he learns to regret when Leonard’s fingers dig into his legs a little tighter. “Nobody said anything ‘bout me not being qualified,” Leonard says, and Jim has to admit that it does feel pretty good when Leonard’s hands massage the strained muscles on his legs and his thighs. “Were you a masseuse before you tried your hand at torturing people for a living?” Jim asks, and Leonard snorts. “Totally,” he replies, though Jim can tell that’s not true, “you ready for a walk on the treadmill?” “Do I have to?” “Yes,” Leonard says, “you have to if you ever want to properly walk again.”
  • Jim needs some form of goal in his life to function properly. If he doesn’t have a goal to work towards, it just doesn’t really happen as quickly as it could. And unfortunately, he doesn’t seem to care about his own wellbeing as a goal enough in itself. Bones finds out about this, though, he’s keen on giving Jim goals to work towards. First, ten minutes on the treadmill earns him a Wendy’s burger. Jim gets it on day 2. Then, twenty minute gets him a bottle of Jack & Daniels. Again, Jim succeeds. But then Jim starts setting his own goals; more intensive training for longer leg- and back massages (to which Leonard reluctantly agrees. “Anything else you want?” He asks, hands skilfully massaging Jim’s lower back for a massage. “Hmm, Jim says softly, which isn’t really an answer at all, “go out on a date with me.” “What?” “A date. With me. You can even buy me dinner.” Leonard laughs. “I don’t think so.” “Okay, then I’ll buy you,” Jim replies. “Tell you what,” Leonard says, getting Jim to sit up straight, “the day you really run out of here, I’ll take you out to dinner.” He gently pats Jim’s shoulder, smiling at the other’s determined little smirk. 
  • Leonard is busy with his school, too, so he’s not there as much over the next few weeks. Jim makes some decent progress in that time, though, because he’s determined to have that date with Leonard. It takes him a while, though. Running hurts his leg and his back, and the first couple times he trips over his own feet, or strains himself to the point he can barely walk the next day. Christine Chapel gives good massages, but she’s nothing like Bones.
  • At long last, Jim is discharged. Leonard takes him on a date. Jim expects a nice dinner, but Leonard takes Jim outside instead. They go on a walk through the park, and Leonard brings his dog with him. “You have a cheesy picnic planned, too? You old romantic,” Jim teases, and Leonard nudges his side. He has something better. A greasy hotdog stand and a seat in the warm summer grass near the lake. Jim throws the dog’s ball a couple times, grinning when Leonard’s hand rests on his leg. “What are you gonna do now that you’re released?” Leonard asks, and Jim shrugs. “I like to focus on the present, not so much the future. Y'know, what am I gonna do today versus what am I gonna do tomorrow,” he replies. And then he boldly leans in, lips brushing over Leonard’s until the other leans in to kiss hi back. “So, what are you gonna do today?” Leonard asks, and Jim chuckles. “You, probably.”

there is something immensely satisfying about cropping characters who are total asshats out of my gifs. like poof they’re just gone. if only it was that easy in life.

Characters Reactions to Ships
  • Destiel
  • Dean: Uh...
  • Cas: Dean and I do share a profound bond.
  • Sabriel
  • Sam: I... He... Wait what?
  • Gabriel: *laughs hysterically while eating a but load of candy*
  • Crobby
  • Bobby: What the... Not in a million years you sick sons of bitches!
  • Crowley: So our kiss meant nothing to you Bobby Singer?
  • Johnlock
  • John: I'm not gay.
  • Sherlock: *homosexual laughter*
  • Mystrade
  • Mycroft: I... What?
  • Lestrade: Me and Sherlock's brother?
  • Janto
  • Jack: Obviously
  • Ianto: Duh
  • Dramione
  • Draco: Me?! And that mudblood Granger? My father will hear about this!
  • Hermione: *punches him in the nose... Again*
  • Drarry
  • Draco: You've got to be shitting me! Potter?!
  • Harry: You've got to be shutting me! Malfoy?!
  • Drapple
  • Draco: Is this even real?
  • Apple: *silence*

anonymous asked:

Jim having a crush on Bones at academy and always bringing him coffee to his classes just to see him?

  • Jim Kirk has never had a crush in his life. Never had the time to, because he knows just who to talk to and how to talk to them to get them to spend the night with him. Shooting fish in a barrel, so to speak. So he doesn’t recognize a crush when it hits him. Bones was a broken man when they met, but he blossoms into a beautifully grumpy Starfleet doctor. And it’s a blessing to see Leonard smile. A rare occurrence, but it happens sometimes. When he’s pleasantly drunk, or when he’s aced all his classes. Jim loves the way he sighs when he shows up at the auditorium for his command classes and Jim is waiting for him with a cup of coffee.
  • “What are you doing here?” Leonard asks, “you already passed this course.” “Yeah,” Jim says, and then he’s kind of at a loss for words. Jim knows how to pick up people; male, female, or otherwise. But Bones is something entirely different. “So?” Bones asks, and Jim looks up. “So, what?” “Why are you even here?” “Just wanted to make sure you got your coffee. You’re terrible without your coffee.” Jim says, and Bones raises his eyebrows. “Excuse me. I am delightful without my coffee, I’m just not a morning person.” Jim laughs, even though it’s not even remotely funny. He just can’t help himself. Literally everything that comes out of Bones’ mouth is somehow great.
  • Bones has a few long, nine-to-five classes in which he performs hour-long surgeries, or researches odd medical cases. Because Bones is already an established doctor prior to starting the academy, he even works real cases sooner than most other students. Not even for extra credit, just because he can, and just because it might save someone’s life. So when Jim’s done with his Tuesday morning piloting class, he buys a coffee on campus, and walks into one of the medical labs. “Bones, hey,” Jim says, finding Bones in a perfectly white uniform. “Jim?” Bones looks up, a little confused. “Are you finally taking a rank in healing?” “Hell no,” Jim laughs, “I just came to give you a coffee. Figured you’d need one.” “Thanks. Do you have clearance to be here?” Bones asks, and Jim shrugs. “Whatever, right? We’re all students.” “No, don’t whatever this. We’re working with dangerous diseases in here. Some of them very contagious. I know you’re not vaccinated,” Bones points out, and Jim scoffs. “I’m fine, Bones. You know I’m not vaccinated?” “I know all your allergies.” Bones explains. He takes the coffee, sipping it slowly. “Thanks, though. I’ll make sure to repay you for all these coffees.” “No need,” Jim smiles, “I’m happy to do it.”
  • Jim makes sure Bones has his cup before he has to suffer through piloting 101 himself. Because Bones really needs it; he’s flat out refused to take that class until it’s absolutely vital for him to do so, and Jim is just there for mental support. “C'mon, old man. Flying is not so bad,” he says, and Bones shoots him a glare. “Fuck you, and your smug face.” “I mean, if you want to,” Jim says, and Bones raises his eyebrows. “You wish.” “Yeah,” Jim says, and Bones is just briefly speechless.
  • Jim is an excellent student. Straight As, as long as he can concentrate. And concentrating is kind of an issue sometimes. Bones, luckily, sits in his room with him and he’s going through his own books. Every time Jim gets distracted; be it by his PADD, the noises out on the hallway, any movement outside his window, or even the way Bones looks when he hasn’t shaved in a couple of days. Bones points him back to his books, turns on some study-friendly music, or asks him questions about Jim’s reading to keep him into it. It works. He passes, and Bones passes all his classes too, except for his pilot classes.
  • And so over the summer, Jim finds himself determined to help Bones pass those classes for the next year. Bones is gone for a full week, which he spends in Georgia with his daughter. And then the second week Joanna is there on campus with Bones, so it’s not exactly reserved for studying either. Jim brings him a coffee and Jo an iced tea, and he kind of expects to leave afterwards. But instead, Jo’s like: “you should watch a movie with us.” And then he kind of just sticks around. They watch a movie, and the next day they visit the Starfleet History Museum. Then, Jim not-so-subtly coerces Bones into taking flying lessons from him, and uses Joanna as a way to manipulate him into saying yes. Joanna wants to be a captain or a pilot herself later, so that’s not that hard to get her to convince Bones to take Jim up on that offer.  
  • Bones gets incredibly drunk when he does finally pass his piloting classes. Jim gets drunk with him. “Well, you did it,” Bones says with a grin, “you got me into that stupid plane.” “No, you did it,” Jim corrects him with a smirk. "I’m proud of you, old man,“ he adds, gently patting Bones’ shoulder. “Did you just seriously call me old?” Bones asks, turning his head to look at Jim. There’s this drunk look in his eyes, and a fond smile on his lips. Jim is even aware of Bones’ gaze sliding down to his lips instead of his eyes, and Jim feels his stomach turn pleasantly at the thought that this man’s definitely, undoubtedly, thinking about kissing him. ”Old enough,” Jim says, smiling at him as well. “For what?” Bones asks, and Jim feels the other lean in closer. Jim feels himself lean in, too, but then he stops himself. “You’re really drunk, huh?” Jim asks, gently patting Bones’ leg. God, he wants to. Desperately. But he can’t go through with this, too conflicted about what it would do to their friendship. Both of them go out instead, and though it feels awful, Bones gets himself a girl. Jim too, and the distraction is great. 
  • He doesn’t do anything about his crush for years. He just kind of accepts that he’s always going to have a little (–big) thing for Bones. Something he’ll always want, deep down, but never have. Because his friendship is invaluable, and Jim doesn’t even know how these relationship things work. 
  • It really isn’t until after the events on Altamid, and Bones organized him a surprise birthday party, that Jim finds that crush just flared up again like he’s back in the Academy, but then even worse. And after Bones has left to his quarters, Jim shows up at midnight with a cup of coffee for him. Neither of them drink it, though, because it’s past midnight. And because Bones pulls him in and has him pressed against the wall. His mouth’s on his and lips are just everywhere, and in all of Jim’s sexual encounters, nothing has quite felt as relieving and just right as this. 
  • “I got a confession to make,” Bones says afterwards. He’s lying on his side, and Jim has himself pressed against Bones’ back. One arm is loosely around the other’s waist, and Jim’s been struggling to stay awake for minutes, but he’s also just trying to savor this moment for as long as he can. At least Bones’ words pull him back from his almost-slumber. “What’s that?” Jim asks, and Bones turns just lightly so that he can actually look at Jim. “I really hated coffee ‘til I met you. Actually, even when I met you.” “What?” Jim asks, looking confused. “But I brought you coffee every day for like, two years.” “I know, and I thought it was disgusting,” Bones says with a soft laugh. “Why didn’t you say so?” Jim asks. “I don’t know. I appreciated the gesture,” Bones shrugs. He turns around to his other side, so he can actually face Jim properly. “And I’m not going to lie, you were like, the first person I thought about dating, after I got over Jocelyn.” “Really? You’re such a loser,” Jim says with a grin, but he’s both surprised and confused and somehow euphoric all at once. “I know,” Bones huffs, “you got me addicted to coffee and your dumb ass company.” Jim laughs, before eventually clearing his throat. “I got a confession then, too. Because I’ve had a thing for you since like, year one. Kept bringing you coffee and hoping that’d make you sleep with me.” Bones listens quietly, though he’s looking more than smug at this news. “Well,” he says eventually, sliding an arm around Jim’s shoulder, “Nearly eight years late, but I guess it worked.”
Kelley was never combative, but he seemed drawn to passionate souls…. Something in him liked a fighter, and he enjoyed the role of counselor that gave these heroes strength and rest.
—  1/∞ reasons why DeForest Kelley is actually Leonard McCoy (From Sawdust to Stardust)

So after a long online conversation with my cuz @red-f-smith we’re proud to present


(yes, they’re all the Doctor.)

9 is the oldest. He keeps the others in check and generally makes sure they don’t wreak too much havoc. He’s also a huge sweetheart. And the sassiest little dork in the Tardis.

Exclusive picture of 9: (on a date with Rose)

Originally posted by evilgaymeme

10 is the middle child. He’s confused yet flirty and talks a lot. He gets along best with 11 and can usually be found desperately trying to help his little brother clean up his messes before 9 finds out.

Exclusive picture of 10: (just being random)

Originally posted by doctorfriend79

11 is the youngest. He’s the most clumsy and dorky of them all and often uses words like “LOL” and “YOLO” while his older brothers facepalm in the distance. Makes a whole lot of trouble but you can’t stay mad at him.

Exclusive picture of 11: (stealing dessert)

Originally posted by morewhovianthanhuman

They all get along okay, but (as my cousin put it)-  10 and 11 get along the best, often getting in trouble together and trying to fix the mess before 9 finds out. 9 and 10 get along good enough but are a bit broken because 9 dated Rose first, then Rose started to date 10 because 9 kept disappearing and although made her feel special, 10 made her feel noticed. 9 and 11 are the siblings who don’t do much together, unless it’s teasing 10 or asking for the remote.

A few GIFs from everyday life:

10 and 11 sticking together while 9 interrogates them as to who ate that last cookie-

Originally posted by mickisnotclever

11 trying to be cool (again)-

Originally posted by doctorwho247

10 being a flirt-

Originally posted by morewhovianthanhuman

9 sassing his head off-

Originally posted by superwholockpotterhead

and what they do every time a neighbor complains about the noises and the craziness-

Originally posted by wholock-of-the-shire

Being a fan (boy or girl) is one of the most painful experiences a person can go through.

Think about it.

You spend a good portion of your time/energy/effort into these characters/actors/universes.

You go through the same heartbreak, laughter, pain, anger, sorrow, and a million other emotions that your favorites go through.

And you know what?


I cannot stress that enough.

It literally has an effect on your physical body. Be it heartbreak, physical pain, or joy, your brain produces the necessary chemicals to feel with them.

You learn, grow, and experience life with your favorites. And even though it may just be in a book, or on a screen, those feelings are completely real and justified.

So when you break down in tears because of how much you miss them; or you laugh hysterically at something that makes you remember a similar moment that they went through; or you get angry at how horrible the writer is to them, just remember that you are NOT ALONE in how you feel!!!

Your feelings are real and valid even if they are excruciatingly painful.