he's the oncoming storm

Griel: Dragon Boyfriend 1

Part One of a dragon commission for @ladyccr Part Two is coming soon.

You had always had a secret dream that something would come and destroy the castle. You dreamed your annoying little sister’s room would be the first to go. You hated the joy the thought brought you but you allowed yourself to indulge in it. You knew if anything like that were to happen you’d never forgive yourself for wishing it. Dreams were meant to be just that, dreams.

You had been dreaming a lot recently. Stories had been surfacing almost constantly of attacks on villages and other castles. Orcs and dragons were the most common. There were talks of Rakshasa armies rising in the east as well. One of your father’s closest allies had recently been sacked. Their castle and everything plundered, his daughter was still missing.

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From Amy, With Love (pt. 9)

Warning: Wilford snaps.

Google tries but fails to stop him in his blind rampage, but the droid can only do so much when Wilford Warfstache begins to warp the building around him in blurs of pink and cream. The ceiling is the floor. The walls bend like they’re made of Jello. Everything Wilford touches bends out of place.

This is what it must be like inside Warfstache’s mind.

Amy feels the floor buck beneath her feet, and at first, she thinks “earthquake” before she sees the rush of vibrant color and knows, “It’s Wilford.” Dr. Iplier pulls her out of the other Ego’s path and shakes his head when she tries to chase after him.

“I’ve only seen him like this once before, after he found out about what Dark did to the Host’s eyes. You don’t want to get in his way,” warns Dr. Iplier in the same voice he uses when he tells someone they’re dying. “This isn’t going to be good.”

“I have to help him,” Amy cries, but the Doctor is still holding her back, a hand wrapped around each of her wrists.

“No, Amy, please! You don’t need to see this! He wouldn’t want you to!” The Doctor pulls her around so she’s looking at him, and she can see how desperate he is to make her understand. “You’ve got to leave this to us, Amy. Go take care of Mark, and we’ll handle Wilford.”

Amy searches his face, and she knows that it’s the right thing to do. “Ok, just promise me he’ll be alright.”

Dr. Iplier nods. “Somehow, we’ll fix this.”

With that, he leaves her, and Amy runs back to Mark’s hospital room. On the way, she notices that all the walls have moved around. The second floor has merged with the third, and time seems to be standing still. Broken shards of random objects float suspended in the air. Nothing moves outside the windows within a mile-wide radius. Wilford’s power is far more immense than Amy ever realized.


Dark senses Wilford coming even before the elevator explodes.

Wilford has always been a loose cannon, using his abilities for solely selfish purposes, but from time to time, when Dark gets too far out of line…

The elevator’s doors blasted open in a shower of glitter, and Wilford Warfstache strides into the basement in a raucous pink fury. “DARK!”

His voice strikes fear all the way down to Dark’s core, but he can’t flee. He’s stuck in this cell, stuck in the path of an oncoming storm, and he knows there’s hell to pay.


Mark’s room warps around him, and the injured man, unable to flee, is forced to watch it happen. A filing cabinet drops through the ceiling landing inches away from his head, and then Amy appears, battling against floating debris to get to him. She’s bleeding from a wound to her head.

“Amy, watch out!”

She barely misses getting crushed by a bookshelf from the library somewhere above. Amy scrambles to her feet and finally reaches Mark, climbing onto the bed beside him and clinging to him for dear life. Mark tucks her underneath him, shielding her from the torrent of insanity that seems to be ripping its way through the building.

“Don’t worry. It’s going to be alright,” he says in her ear over the roar of chaos and shattering reality.


The Googles reach him first, and there’s blood everywhere. Dark is screaming, and Wilford screams louder, angrier with a thousand insults and a thousand promises that Dark will never do this again. Because Wilford isn’t just doing it for himself. He has Mark’s memories, too.

He’s fighting for both of them.

Dark hurt Amy, their Amy, and he’s hurt Host for the last time. The basement pitches and swings around within Wilford’s void—his own candy-coated horror. They manage to pull Wilford off of Dark, what’s left of him, and Dr. Iplier fights to get a needle in Wilford’s neck in time to keep his heart from exploding with the sheer force of power he’s employing.

When Wilford goes limp, the building snaps back into place, time restarts, and everyone is left blinking colored spots out of their vision. The air is tainted with the smell of bubblegum and blood.



Amy continues to cling to Mark long after the danger has faded, crying into his chest, and he doesn’t know this girl. But she’s stronger than he ever could be, and Mark isn’t letting go of her any time soon.

Imagine, for a moment, Clara Oswald

Clara Oswald sending a Time Lord, thousands of years old, The Oncoming Storm, out for coffee. And he goes.

Clara Oswald learning to ride a motorbike because riding on the back of Eleven’s was fun, but she could do it so much better on her own.

Clara Oswald gaining access to the Black Archives because her world-saving antics are as renowned as *his*.

Clara Oswald grading papers on the TARDIS while casually putting out the diplomatic fires the Doctor starts on multiple worlds.

Clara Oswald seducing Jane Austen and influencing the character development of Liz Bennett. (Guess who influenced Darcy’s.)

Clara Oswald riding into this world on a leaf and soaring off of it in a TARDIS she shares with yet another woman who was supposed to die thousands of years ago, but who the universe wasn’t ready to live without. 

Originally posted by hirmienworld

Time Lord Victorious

Ha ha, that was quick, eh? Here we are, Time Lord Victorious request. I hope this is what you had in mind because most of it wasn’t what I had in mind, it just soft of happened. I hope you enjoy littluns.

word count:1690

So, without further adieu,

Allons-y!


Originally posted by greatspacedustbin


Travelling with the Doctor was the greatest thing that could ever happen to a human. Not the least of which you, who had, in your opinion, absolutely nothing to lose when you stepped into that blue box, and everything in time and space to gain. The Doctor was a rather strange man by all accounts, that much was obvious. But you had seen beyond the bubbly childish persona before, if only for a moment. The Doctor had a dark side. The Oncoming Storm was always there, just beneath the surface. The time he’d thought you dead after you were kidnapped, you caught a glimpse of a Doctor who was like you had used to be. With nothing to lose. Of course he had nothing to lose, his whole species was already gone.

But even after seeing that side of him, you never thought you’d see the day you might regret following him. The day you might leave the Doctor. Of course, first you needed to stop him from breaking time.

“Doctor, you need to stop!”

He turned quickly and you almost backed down immediately at the look in his eyes as he stared you down. There was none of his usual compassion or concern or childish excitement you so love to see. Those warm brown eyes had turned cold.

“No, I really don’t” He responded simply. Even his voice didn’t sound right.

“You can’t control time!” You snapped. “You can’t change something this big! You just can’t!”

“Don’t you see?” The Doctor started moving towards you and you found yourself stepping backwards in time with him. He didn’t even hesitate to keep stepping closer. Another red flag. The Doctor was always the most worried about making sure you were okay. He’d do anything to make you comfortable and happy, even if that meant staying away from you and letting you have your own space. But now… he didn’t seem to even care.

“I can”

Your back hit the wall and you let out a sharp gasp. He took the last couple steps so that he was right in front of you, making you have to look up to see him properly. He leaned closer like he only wanted you to hear, both hands braced against the wall on either side of you, trapping you in. You’d only been this close a couple times before, and those were after particularly stressful or scary adventures when he’d hug you and end up holding you for a longer time than either of you had anticipated. Those times you never imagined the Doctor surrounding you could be so terrifying.

“The Time Lords are gone, and it’s taken me so long to realize. I’m not the survivor, I’m the winner”

“No, Doctor, this isn’t you, please” You insisted. “You wouldn’t do this, I know you”

“You used to” He responded quickly. “I’m not who you knew. I am the Time Lord Victorious, this is me now. Time is mine and I will do with it what I want”

“Then you should have died with the rest of your people” You spat back at him. His eyes darkened further if that was even possible.

“Don’t challenge me (Y/N). You think you know what I’ve done. You have no idea what I could do”

With that, he turned back and went back to what he was doing. The Doctor had made his decision. He was going to save these people, even if it broke time itself. Because he was right about something. He wasn’t the Doctor anymore. The Oncoming Storm became the Time Lord Victorious.

You were still there when he saved Adelaide and her crew. You were there when she tried to convince him what he was doing was wrong. She had looked to you when he shot down everything she’d said. He paused a moment, as if he wasn’t sure what she was looking at. When he turned, he looked like he barely knew you. He just looked at you. If he hadn’t been looking at you when Adelaide went inside, maybe he would have noticed. If you weren’t staring right back at him, maybe you would have noticed. Maybe when he brushed past you and went back to the doors of the Tardis, you would’ve seen her in the window if you weren’t doing everything in your power not to cry. You might’ve seen her sad and sorry expression, half of it aimed at you. Because it was obvious even to her that this man was not the one you knew.

When the gunshot rang through the air it was unlike anything you would’ve heard before your time with the Doctor, but you still knew exactly what it was the moment you heard it. Your head snapped up, gaze locked on Adelaide’s house and mouth open in shock and horror. After a moment you risked a glance at the Doctor. He was on his knees in the snow beside the Tardis. He looked like he was talking to someone, but you could see no one. You took a tentative step towards him. Then another. He glanced at you over his shoulder and your breath caught at the broken look on his face. This certainly was not the Time Lord Victorious. The Doctor was back.

You tore your gaze from his, walking into the Tardis without looking back. You debated what you had to do in your mind as you entered the hall. Perhaps you should leave. Yes, that seemed best. You didn’t need him, you told yourself. Even if you knew you were lying. You frowned as you passed the same door for a third time. Your bedroom wasn’t anywhere in sight, but if you were going to leave there were things you needed to pack. The console room door appeared again and you scowled, realising what the Tardis was doing.

“Stop it” You snapped, turning on your heel to walk back the way you came. But the way you came was different now. At the end of the hall was the console room door. The soft hum in your mind told you all you needed to know.

Talk to him

“No!” You shouted, pulling open the closest door and practically throwing yourself inside before slamming it shut. You found yourself in a lovely looking garden that you were sure you’d better appreciate if your day hadn’t gone the way it did. “I can’t” You added softer, leaning against the door behind you. “Not after what I…” You slid down the wall, sitting on the soft grass as you pulled your knees up to your chest and buried you face in your arms with a huff. You thought over all of what had happened. Had you really said that? You looked up at the ceiling, knowing there was only one person, if you could call her that, that you could talk to now.

“I can’t talk to him” You reasoned with the machine. “Not after what he said, or what I said. I need to leave. It would just be best if I leave. But if I see him again I…” You took a long shuddering breath and the Tardis hummed comfortingly, urging you to go on. “If I see him again, I won’t be able to leave. I won’t be able to live by myself after knowing him. It’s like I’ve never realized I was half empty until he filled the empty space perfectly. If I didn’t have him… But it wasn’t him. When he… I don’t know”

“(Y/N)”

The voice was soft and more hesitant than you could ever have imagined. You glanced over to see the Doctor standing in another door which was still open. He didn’t step inside. The moment your eyes met you looked away.

“(Y/N), I’m sorry, I really am. I don’t know what I…” There was a pause, silent for all but the Tardis’ encouraging hums. “Do you want to go home?” After a moment of your silence he stepped out into the grass and closed his door behind him. You sighed, still not looking him in the eye, you focussed on his trainers as you answered.

“I don’t know”

More silence.

“Were the rest of them like that?”

He stared at you a moment, not understanding your question.

“The Time Lords. If any of them had been the last one left, would they have done that?” You elaborated. You knew it was a far from okay question to ask, but you needed to know.

“I believe so, some of them” he answered hesitantly. You gave a small nod.

“I see”

Nothing but silence. He didn’t seem to be about to say something anytime soon.

“I’m sorry”

“For what?” he frowned at you.

“For saying you… you should’ve…” You couldn’t say it now. Before had been heat of the moment, but now you were painfully aware of every sound leaving your lips.

“It’s okay. You were right” he muttered softly. You looked up quickly, staring at him in shock.

“No… No. No I really wasn’t” You insisted, scrambling to your feet. “And don’t you ever think that” The two of you stood facing each other with several feet of space separating you. He moved to close the space, but as he took a step forward you took an instinctive step back. He froze immediately, backing away and muttering apologies. It was then that you knew for sure. The Time Lord Victorious was gone. This was the Doctor, and he would be for your foreseeable future.

You ran the space between you to practically tackle the Doctor in a hug, he froze, momentarily confused before he hugged you back, tighter than he ever had but still careful of his inhuman strength so that it wouldn’t hurt you.

“I thought about leaving” You admitted, feeling him stiffen under your arms even as his arms loosened around you, like he was getting ready for you to push him off and demand to be taken home. “But I couldn’t. I could never leave. I could never live without you”

“I learned my lesson” He admitted. “And I’m not going anywhere soon”


@dekahg

Cherchez la Femme: Un Peu, Beaucoup (F)

A/N: So we’re doing this again, whoop. This is actually the last section of part one. The parts get longer as it goes on (mainly because I started this after I hadn’t written in a looooong time and had to get used to doing it again. 

A/N: Not really sure about a posting schedule, I’m too disorganized for that.

A/N: Tag list is open. Please send a message (like an actual message, not one on the post) or an ask if you would like to be taken on or off. I don’t always have my laptop with me, and I do a lot of blogging on my phone, so I don’t want to lose the request.

WORD COUNT: 2349

WARNINGS: Swearing, mentions of smut, mention of vomiting, some angst… here it comes, we start losing the fluff, sorry… if you think this is bad, wait until part 3

MASTERLIST

TRACK: I’ll Be Seeing You–Billie Holliday

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Bring Me Back, Part Two: Entanglement

WARNING: Depression (duh), character death (it won’t be a surprise), very mild language (nothing worse than I’ve written before), anorexia and self-harm (mentioned in the narrative but not directly seen), and Jack Harkness (definitely seen). This story might just be a little hard for some people to chew, so read cautiously. Also, just to help you understand the gravity, this is based off of real events in which I was basically this fic’s Jack Harkness.

Also, if I had actual drawing skills instead of just being a maker of tribal-looking paisley patterns, this would be the fic I would draw art for. SO MANY SAD DRAWINGS.

This MIGHT end up being four parts instead of three. I dunno. Shame on me.

More angst, but also some fluff at the end. But mostly angst. Original concept requested by @pianovata


In 1935, physicist Erwin Schrödinger created a theoretical experiment on a paradox of quantum physics, specifically quantum superposition. The experiment theorized a scenario in which a cat is held inside a steel box with a radioactive atom. Whether the cat lived or died was completely dependent upon whether the atom decayed (emitting deadly radiation) or remained stable. Since there is a fifty-fifty chance of either, as long as the cat remains in the box and therefore unobserved by another party, the cat is theoretically both alive and dead at the same time, because neither option can be confirmed or denied until the box is opened. Schrödinger termed this kind of experiment as Verschränkung, which means entanglement.


The Doctor screamed.

He went out. No, he really went out. Not to scream at the skies (well, that hadn’t been the plan), or to exact revenge upon Cybermen (been there, done that). He just went out. Exploring. The Doctor, as usual, but with just a bit more alone-ness than there ought to have been. But that was okay. He needed the alone, because he couldn’t handle togetherness quite yet. Not without you. He thought of going to see Donna and Wilf, but he dismissed the thought when he realized that they would ask where you were. Then they would be mourning too, not to mention that they would both fuss over him horribly. He didn’t want to be fussed over.

He ended up on a planet known for its long nights and amazing night skies. He had been there before, plenty of times, to see the famous stars that danced on blue ink. He had never brought you here, but he had planned to. It was where he wanted to propose to you.

A cliff-side in the middle of fall season was the Doctor’s preferred observation spot. Still warm enough to be comfortable but cold enough that you would have snuggled up against him for warmth. That’s what you would have done. He knew you would have. And you would have liked this place. And you would have liked stargazing with him, and you would have listened while he babbled random trivia about the alien constellations, and whether or not you understood it, you still would have made him feel like the cleverest man in the universe.

Would you have stayed awake all night? He had to wonder, even as he nestled into the soft grass that smelled like pine so that he could gaze up at the glittering sky. Or would you have fallen asleep with your head on his shoulder? And if that had happened, would he have stayed there with you until morning so that you could wake under the planet’s vibrant sunrises, or would he have carried you back to the TARDIS and tucked you in?

A tear rolled down the side of the Doctor’s face and got caught in his sideburn, tickling wetly against his skin. He harshly pawed at his face to rid himself of the sticky tear-track, but even as he did, his eyes stung with fresh tears that burned and welled up and out so that they could streak hotly against his skin.

His lip was wobbling, he realized. His whole face was folding, squinting, trying to rid itself of tears that burned his eyes and were too hot for his skin. The stars above him blurred and he turned onto his side and curled into the fetal position, pressing his face into his sleeves.

“Stop it!” he gasped harshly on a sobbing exhale, humiliated as the tears poured freely and made his sleeves damp. “Stop it, damn you!”

The TARDIS sang a mourning song and the Doctor screamed.

Out, said the TARDIS, out, out, out, out.

“No,” snapped the Doctor, scratching at the stubble on his chin that had grown unchecked in his negligence. “No.”

Out.

The Doctor threaded his fingers through his limp, un-groomed hair. His tie was askew, falling off, his clothes were rumpled and unwashed, and there was still blood on his jacket from where you had gotten a nasty cut on the forehead and he had used his jacket to stop the bleeding. He hadn’t meant to let himself fall so completely to pieces, but it had just been so easy to forget, especially without you there to remind him. He hadn’t eaten since… before. Before when, he wasn’t sure, but it had been long enough that the hunger pains had stopped and he no longer felt it. The empty space in his gut was gone, too. It had tightened up and swallowed itself. The idea of eating made him fell a bit sick.

Eat.

“No, you stupid machine.”

He had been doing better. He really had. But his most recent breakdown had left him worse off than before.

Out!

The TARDIS turned on every single alarm that she had until the Doctor was forced to leave in order to escape the noise.

Her name was River Song. When she saw him, she gasped, pressing her hand to her painted mouth as her eyes filled with shine. It was pity and it was terrible and the Doctor hated it. He knew he looked a fright. He had shaved, yes, and gotten his suit into halfway-decent shape, but the shadows under his eyes were dark, like he had taken a few hits, and his skin was pasty and clinging and that the hollows of his cheeks and the spaces between his ribs had drawn in, making him look like he ought to be on a mortician’s slab.

She hugged him, held him close, and he struggled away. He was not for her. He was for you. She didn’t get to hold him that way. And it hurt. Her hands traveled down his sides, stinging the red lines where he had dug his nails into his skin and dragged them across the dipping planes of his sunken ribcage.

That wasn’t the worst part of their meeting.

Professor Song whispered a name in his ear, and it was your name. The secret one, the Gallifreyan one that he had given to you when he decided that he wanted to marry you, the one that he whispered in your ear like a prayer, the one that he taught you how to say so that one day you would have an easier time pronouncing his true name. (Because he wanted to tell you, he wanted, he wanted, he wanted.) She shouldn’t have said that name, it wasn’t for her, and hearing it on the lips of someone other than you or himself made his empty gut twist painfully.

How do you know that name?" He was on the edge of the Oncoming Storm, right on the edge, waiting to fall and become rage and fury incarnate. It would be so easy. He was already falling. "How the hell do you know that name?!”

She smirked at him even as she prepared for her own death (and she was just like that, wasn’t she, that brokenhearted creature who prodded at the empty spaces of his body and just knew?). The death that should have been his. The death that he wanted. She was taking it like she expected no less. "Shouldn’t I know it?“

"That was the name I gave her,” he snarled, torn between hate and despair as she stole a secret that was his but then took it to her early grave of sacrifice in his place. "No one else knows that name, no one!“

She knows it,“ River said.

"She’s dead, damn you!”

There was a great deal of fuss after that. Handcuffs were definitely involved. He insisted, screamed, that time could be rewritten, that this could all be undone, that she could live if only she would just listen to him, but she didn’t listen.

“River, NO!”

“Goodbye, sweetie. You’ll see me again.”

She didn’t listen.

The Doctor didn’t like interventions. They were usually helpful to him, in the end, but while they happened, they could be very unpleasant and certainly unwelcome. Especially when they came from people who cared more about him than they cared about his privacy.

And if there was one thing Jack Harkness didn’t give a darn about, it was privacy.

“You’re a mess,” Jack said. He was in Captain Mode, the Doctor noticed with a painful prickle of irritation running up and down his spine and around his torso. “What the hell, Doc?”

“Get off my TARDIS,” the Doctor muttered, pulling away.

“Your TARDIS called me,” Jack said, tone not allowing for any measure of nonsense. The Doctor scowled, but Jack frowned right back at him. “I thought you were in trouble. I didn’t think you’d be this.”

The Doctor swayed on his feet for a moment, empty and cut under his suit. He felt scabs break and weep thin creases of blood into his skin, following rusty trails of blood that had run and dried in the days before. He reeked of blood, and it made his head spin and he flung himself forward, knocking into Jack’s side.

Jack took the blow and didn’t fall. The Doctor had no strength, no weight, and his whole body falling against Jack was nothing to the captain. The Doctor bit and scratched uselessly, trembling fists batting at Jack, while Jack wrapped one arm around the Doctor’s skinny middle and hauled.

“I’m not your punching bag,” Jack grunted, slapping the Doctor’s fists away as he dragged the smaller man out of the console room. “Just because you’re angry. Where’s your girlfriend, huh? Because if you tried to dump her for her own good, we are going right back and getting her, mister. Pray that she takes your miserable ass back after all the bull you’ve put her through.”

The Doctor whined like a broken electronic shutting down, curling his fingers into the captain’s coat.

“C'mon. How long has it been since you ate?”

“Dunno,” the Doctor murmured.

Jack kicked the door to the kitchen without waiting for the TARDIS to open it, dragging the Doctor at his side as the lights flickered on, dim and gentle. The Doctor dropped limply into a chair, supporting himself on the small dining table, while Jack pushed him into a position that might be more comfortable. He gripped the Doctor’s jaw gently, examining the hollowed face and cringing at what he found.

“You’re dehydrated,” Jack said sharply, scolding, like a worrisome mother who had caught her child playing in the snow without a coat. The Doctor didn’t respond.

The Doctor choked when Jack pressed something into his mouth and suddenly there was water, cold and crisp and filling his throat without being invited. He gagged, spewing water back up and allowing it to dribble out the side of his mouth, before his body suddenly remembered what water was like and how much he needed it. He swallowed greedily, burning his unused throat before soothing it with cool softness. Jack dabbed the spilled water off of his face, gentle, gentle, gentle with the spindly leftovers of what was once a great man.

“What happened, Doc?” Jack asked when the Doctor had finally had his fill of water. The Doctor huffed out small puffs of breath as the water soothed his insides, like a wash over a dirty floor. The dust in his systems was being cleared out.

“She’s gone,” the Doctor rasped.

The color drained from Jack’s face. His mouth opened, closed, opened again, and gasped silently like a fish as his knees trembled. He shook once, violently, before he reached out and gripped the Doctor’s bony arm with all the force of a vice. The Doctor whimpered and Jack immediately released his hold, snatching his hand back like the Doctor’s arm had become a snake.

“… How?” asked Jack.

The Doctor exhaled heavily. “Cybermen.”

Jack hissed angrily. “Did she… did she become one of them or did they… did they delete…?”

“I don’t….” The Doctor curled even further into himself than he already was, drawing his knees up to his chest. “I don’t know.”

At this, Jack stilled. He tilted his head to the side, eyes lighting up oddly. “You don’t… know.”

“No.”

“You mean you didn’t see her die.”

“They took her away!” The Doctor snapped. “She couldn’t have escaped, she-”

“Nuh-uh!” Jack cut the Doctor off, jumping a little bit on his heels before he knelt face-to-face in front of the Doctor. “So in all likeliness, she’s dead.”

The Doctor snarled.

“Okay,” Jack continued, “but you didn’t see-”

The Doctor rallied strength that he shouldn’t have had and smacked Jack across the face.

“She’s dead, Jack,” the Doctor whimpered, withdrawing as Jack rubbed the red side of his otherwise perfect face. “She’s dead and I don’t know how they did it but I know it hurt her and I know she was afraid and I know she probably died wondering why I didn’t come to save her and I don’t want to know any more.”

Jack stared. The Doctor stared back, brown eyes unable to shed tears.

And then a small smile graced Jack’s face. “Now, Doc, I’m surprised at you. You’re always talking about what a superior Time Lord you are, but you didn’t think of Schrödinger’s cat. Shame one you.”

The Doctor blinked rapidly. “What?”

“Schrödinger’s. Cat.” Jack booped the Doctor on the nose. “Y'know. With equal chances of death and survival, the cat is theoretically both alive and dead as long as it remains unobserved?”

“I know what Schrödinger’s Cat is, Jack, but I don’t-”

“Ah-ah-ah!” Jack scolded. “You didn’t see the cat. The cat is dead, but it is also alive. And this would be completely inapplicable, however… I have a Vortex Manipulator, and you have a big Time Machine. Schrödinger would be insanely jealous.”

Jack jumped up to his feet, bouncing as he went, and snatched a banana off of the counter, which he tossed to the Doctor. The Doctor caught it, barely, and couldn’t seem to decide if he wanted to look at Jack or the banana.

“You eat at least three bites of that before I get back,” Jack said firmly, pointing at the banana.

The Doctor cocked an eyebrow at the captain.

“No arguments,” said Jack. “I assume the coordinates of the tragic separation are still in the TARDIS computer?”

The Doctor nodded.

“Good. Off I go, don’t wait up for me, and please eat something. I would hate to have to force-feed you, but that doesn’t been I won’t do it, Doctor!”

And then Jack bolted from the room, leaving a very confuddled Doctor behind with no clue of what was going on. And a banana.

falling like a feather, soft and light

In which Jyn is convinced that she’s hallucinating due to hypothermia. How else could she be safe and warm in Cassian’s arms?

Posted to AO3, as promised!

Now with a bonus deleted scene:

“—read me, Echo Base? Erso here—any—” The transmission was choppy and sliced with static, but just long enough for Cassian to recognize Jyn’s voice.

He clicked through a few frequencies, trying to improve reception, but the oncoming storm was already scrambling subspace transmissions. He swore and tried again. “Copy, Erso. This is Andor, report.”

“Fell—c-crevasse.” It wasn’t just static cutting the words out; he could hardly understand her shaking voice.

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This is What You Came For

Request: This Is What You Came For by Calvin Harris and a Bucky x reader fic based off that song -Anon

A/N: this took waaay too long to answer, so I apologize to the Nonny who sent it to me. I hope this is up to par!

Words: 1407 (Okay so I got carried away.)

Originally posted by lovers-of-edm

Bodies. A hundred, hundreds- all of them coated in sweat and God knows what else, pressed against each other. Getting from one end of the dance floor to the bar was almost impossible. But because he was a beautiful man, and they knew his face because oh my God that’s him, the Winter Soldier! They parted for him like the red sea as he wove around the floor, eyes dancing along to the beat of the music.

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On Jasper Jordan...

Well, hello there the100 fam. This is not only my first post in this fandom, but actually my first post on tumblr ever! (Long time lurker, first time poster) Anyway, as we all head into the deep darkness that is hiatus *sob* I’ve been thinking a lot about the s4 finale (haven’t processed it yet…still WAY too much to think about) as well as the last few episodes of the season, and there’s something I’d like to talk about…

Firstly - a HUGE disclaimer - I am in NO WAY an expert meta writer, nor have I rewatched any of the episodes in preparation for this analysis. I also will not be looking at the way in which the episodes are put together, but instead just focusing on the text and character development (as one of the greats @rosymamacita always says)

So, on to the content - I have been wondering, why am I not that traumatised by the death of Jasper Jordan??? 

I thought Jasper was an amazing character - he helped us to understand the realities of life on the ground, without the pressure of the Clarke/Bellamy perspective of leadership and responsibility. His friendship with Monty, his crazy antics, his leadership and love in Mt Weather, his relationship with Raven…he had so many wonderful qualities, so then why don’t I feel it???.

I think there are two main reasons:

  1. It was inevitable
    Let me be clear - I in no way think that his death should have been inevitable, but the way the show has portrayed the character means that it’s been on the cards from at least season 3…if not much earlier. While there were some spots and hopes of redemption, Jasper’s path post season 2 felt like there was only one possible outcome.

  2. There’s a lesson to learn
    Okay, so here’s where it gets interesting. One of my favourite things about the 100 is how it’s always teaching us - about good guys and bad guys, about choices, about heart and head, about a million other things. So what do we learn from Jasper Jordan’s death?

    We learn that mental illness is a real thing that can have hugely dangerous consequences.

    I’ve seen a number of posts here about how they should have shown a way out for Jasper, that mental illness is something that can be overcome, and that is absolutely true. However, it is also true that recovery from mental illness is not an easy process, not just a case of “going for a walk” or “taking some deep breaths” and suddenly everything will be okay again. It takes work, therapy, support and, in a lot of cases, serious medication, because mental illness is a physical illness.

    Jasper suffered a huge loss - the first person who’d (probably) ever loved him in his life, in the wake of an impossible decision under unfogiving circumstances. I cannot even imagine what that trauma must have been like. And then, he is (mostly) abandoned by his friends - they’ve all got their own stuff going on. None of them have the time to really commit to Jasper and his recovery. They’ve found their own coping mechanisms and don’t have the emotional space to deal with Jasper’s. (NB I’m not blaming them - hello apocalypse - I’m just explaining)

    So he retreats, he (ab)uses alcohol, he searches for a pain free existence in the CoL, and he finally finds relief in the oncoming storm. And importantly, Jasper makes his choice - in a world where he feels he has no choice at all, he chooses not to fight. He chooses to end his days in his own way. He chooses to take his life back into his own hands. Primfaya is inevitable - the way he meets it, is his choice.

    And in this choice, we see the true tragedy of Jasper - we see what he could have been, had he had the support he needed. He enjoys every second he has left to the fullest, he plays pranks, he reconnects with Monty, he forms a cohort of supporters and leads them in their choice. He makes his plans for the end. He even manages to teach Bellamy a thing or two about life, celebration and personal choices. Bellamy, in the end, comes to respect Jasper hugely - not just as a person but for the choices he makes - even challenging Jaha for the right to choose.

    So what’s my point? My point is that this is what the show is teaching is. Jasper Jordan’s death was inevitable because he didn’t get the support and help that he needed - NOT because he wasn’t worth saving, or couldn’t be healed or was too sick or any of those points. We know this, because we are shown all the best parts of Jasper once he’s made his choice. That Jasper is worth saving, that Jasper is able to be saved, that Jasper’s death in not inevitable - he is strong, courageous, inspiring. But he’s also sick. And that sickness means he can only access those traits in despair and not in hope.

    And so we learn to treat our friends with compassion. To tell them we love them when we have the chance (*cough*Bellarke*cough). To make space for them in our lives. To give them what they need, not what we think they need, or what is convenient for us to give. To take mental illness seriously, and understand that there can be serious consequences. And to live and love and laugh as freely and as wonderfully as Jasper Jordan ever did.

Tagging some folks for their thoughts: @rosymamacita @fyeahbellarke @boob-morley @cupcakeblake @grumpybell @bellaarke

Eleventh Doctor & Reader Shipping Imagine

Gender neutral imagine. I pulled a unisex ‘J’ name out of my ass, hope it doesn’t offend anyone. There is a very, very tiny amount of smut (if you can call it that) in this, because frankly, I have a very hard time seeing this regeneration being sexual. Although he’s flirty and winky, I just can’t really see it, and he is incredibly awkward. Hope I captured him alright, he’s…difficult to write. ‘I love you’ is thrown around a couple times, which I know, is almost as hard to imagine as Eleven having the sexy times. All manner of fluff included within. Enjoy! Geronimo!

Originally posted by doctorwho247

-Aliens invading. Impending doom. Skinny weirdo with a bow tie. Enough said. You were hooked from the start, because honestly, why wouldn’t you be?

-“Who are you?”
“I’m The Doctor.”
No time to question him because he’s grabbed your hand and whisked you down a relatively long corridor.

-Running. All the time. You sit in the common room in the TARDIS with your feet up. The Doctor walks in with tea, “You okay?”
You nod, trying not to let the ache bother you, “Yeah, I’m great.”
He puts the tea down and sits next to you, grabbing your feet and begins to massage them. “You know, I’ve been around for a while and I can usually tell when someone is lying.”
You sigh, “I didn’t want you to think I was weak.”
An immense amount of compassion fills his expression. “Dearest (Y/N), you are anything but weak.”

-You talk to the TARDIS constantly, although it’s mostly one-sided. “So, does he bring home a lot of us then?”
The TARDIS rumbles as if laughing and lights flash green as if to say ‘yes’.
“Right, well I don’t blame him. He’s so alone. Except for you. You’re the only constant in his life. If it weren’t for you, he’d be madder than normal.”
The TARDIS rewards your genuine compliment with pictures of baby Doctor on the monitor. You nearly crumple to the floor from intense laughter.

-Exploring the TARDIS and getting inexplicably lost. You have to ring him to find your way back, “Where are you? I thought you went to the kitchen to get some Jammy Dodgers?”
You come across another hallway, “Yeah, I was but I wanted to see what else was in here.”
“Ah, so you’re snooping then,” The Doctor’s voice is heavy with amusement.
You snort, “No, of course not. I’m just…yes, I’m snooping.”
He laughs, “Okay, where have you ended up?”
“I’m in the…What the heck? You have a bowling alley?!” You exclaim.

-The Doctor is the definition of awkward. Kissing, well…that’s an experience. He doesn’t really know what to do with his hands. Sometimes they are on your back, or maybe your hips, or shoulders? He never knows. You help him by placing his hands on your hips, while you run your fingers through his hair. He hums against your lips, obviously enjoying the feeling now that he’s a bit more relaxed.

-You give him cheek and nose kisses, to which a light but visible blush swells over his face. You trail your lips to his jaw and neck as he leans against the inside of the TARDIS doors. He makes small sounds of arousal at the sensation of your mouth on his skin.

-You know he’s not overly comfortable with intimacy and your sexual relationship moves at a glacier pace. You’re not bothered by it, however, perfectly comfortable with any kind of contact from the Time Lord.

-You sit and watch movies and tv shows. He does his best to sit still, with an arm wrapped around your shoulders, and his fingers drumming anxiously on your arm. Before you know it, he’s bouncing in his seat. You change the tv to the Wii and you face off at various light games. He’s not fond of the violent ones, so you stick to WiiSports, WiiParty, WiiMusic, and WiiPlay (minus the duck hunting mini-game, no guns). The Doctor on the WiiFit board doing the hula has you laughing so hard you fall off of the couch and face-plant with the floor.

-He twirls happily around the console the TARDIS, arms waving about as he goes into detail of all the planets he wants to take you to. “Everything! There is absolutely everything to see! Where do you want to start?”
All the ideas fall from your brain and you come up short, “Uh…I don’t know.”
His excitement falters a little, “Oh, you humans and your partial memory loss just when things were getting somewhere.”
You breeze past the minor insult, “Why don’t you surprise me?”
His face lights up again and he boops your nose, “Let’s set the controls to random, shall we? More fun that way. Geronimo!”

-When you both go undercover you take the same last name as him and he loves it, even though he doesn’t say it. “Yes, hello! I’m John Smith and this is—”
“Jay Smith,” You proclaim happily.
The Doctor smiles and laces his fingers with yours. “Yes, we’re the Smiths, how can we help?”

-You cuddle, which is always a little weird for him. He doesn’t like being still for too long, but he enjoys the closeness. You fall asleep to the rhythm of his hearts beating in unison, the sound always managing to calm you down after a rather stressful day of avoiding death.
“You know, I quite enjoy this,” He says, tracing circular Gallifreyan words on your back.
You hum into his chest in contentment, “You want to move around, don’t you?”
A low rumble of laughter fills his chest, “It’s a subtle itch, but it’s not too overwhelming at the moment. Thank you for always accommodating my comfort.”
“Thank you for being alive,” You mumble.
He kisses the top of your head and almost inaudibly whispers, “I love you.”

-You inevitably get captured by some kind of looming alien race. When the Doctor comes to rescue you, his expression has completely changed. The once relatively composed and friendly face is filled with rage and…fear. He can’t lose anyone else, especially you. He loves you, and whoever takes the people he loves better run because he’s the Oncoming Storm.
“Let (Y/N) go,” The Doctor demands, sonic screwdriver raised.
“Or what?”
“Or I’ll make you,” He growls, eyes alight with an unusual menace.

-Once you’re safe, he’ll check you for injuries. Looking you over again and again, almost frantically. He shines the sonic in your eyes and you swat at him, the bright neon green light slightly blinding you. “Are you hurt? Are you alright?”
“Yes, I’m good. I’m okay,” You say, trying to smile.
He holds you close to him, “Oh, don’t you do that to me again. I thought I’d lost you. I…I love you.”
Your heart melts at the words you know are incredibly hard for him to say. “I love you too, Doctor. Always.”

-You try and teach him how to use Twitter, “You’re always insulting it, but do you even  know how to use it?”
“Why do I need to tell everyone what I’m doing? Did you…? You can’t post pictures of me on the internet!”
You laugh as he chases you around the console room trying to steal your phone and delete the photos.
“Blimey, you wouldn’t happen to be part rabbit would you? Hm, rabbit people. That would be a first for me, and that is saying something. You’re quite fast,” He complains at you.
“Well, I have to be, traveling with you!”
“Give it here!”
“Never!”
You’re almost positive that you hear the TARDIS laughing at the sight of you both.

-You buy him a whimsical bow tie with question marks on it. “(Y/N)? What have you got there?”
“Open it,” You say excitedly.
The Doctor opens the box to see his present and his face lights up with happiness. “For me?”
You kiss him on the cheek, “For the most enigmatic, and amazing person in the universe.”
“I love it, thank you,” He never takes it off afterwards.
“Bow ties are cool, right?” You offer.
He beams at you, “Very.”

-He’ll send you rather sexy winks and you blush like an idiot every single time. He’ll often watch you and find himself smiling and thinking how he got so lucky.

-He is always impressed how you put others before yourself. You go out of your way to help people and save them when you can. He’ll stare after you, completely smitten, and you have to snap him out of his daze. “Oi, spaceman, pay attention.”
“Sorry, what? Oh, yeah right. Sorry.” He keeps looking at you.
“What?” You press.
He just smiles and pecks you on the lips at lightning speed.
“Okay, wait, let’s do more of that!” You say as you chase after him.
“Planets to save, love,” He’ll call at you.

-He opens up to you about Gallifrey and the war. You never pressure him to divulge information though and he appreciates that to no end. He willingly offers to share with you and you listen while you hold his hand. He finds comfort in speaking with you and he listens to your issues as well.

-You make him banana smoothies, and banana sundaes, and banana everything. You don’t really know why he likes them so much but his eyes always shine so brightly when you surprise him with banana-inspired dishes.

javvbaez  asked:

Can I request a revali x hylian s/o where revali is out in the village while s/o is in their hut and she finds some of his clothes and tries some on and he comes back in in the middle of it and is just flustered and thinks she looks adorable

So pure of a request!


The winds whipped past Revali’s wings, the heaviness promising an oncoming storm as he finished his rounds about the village, taking extra care to make sure no monsters were about his homeland.

To make sure there was no danger to his dear (Name).

He was looking forward to getting back, but he still made extra runs, just in case.

Once he felt satisfied, he drifted back to his dear village, ushering the Rito children to run on home and get to sleep, greeting the soldiers on their way home, finally making his way to the house he and his beloved shared.

Stepping right in, he heard a squeak from his dear Hylian, and looked at her blushing face as he gazed at her outfit in particular.

“(Name)?” is all that can come out of his mouth at the moment, as her face burns bright red, even in the lantern-light.

“I…I wanted to try them on.” she shuffles, covering herself slightly, “I can… I can take them off if you’d like…?”

“No! No, keep them on. It looks nice on you.” he is quick to come back, and grins, “The best for the best.”

Her blush increases immensely and she covers her face this time as Revali wraps her up in his arms, offering endless praise on her good tastes, and all the while falling in love with his songbird all over again.

After The Storm - A T&T Coda, 3/3

Jughead comes to Riverdale to meet the partents.

1 . 2 . 3 . Read on AO3


Everything is very distinctive shades of either white or green.

Jughead laces his fingers through Betty’s over the centre console as they drive through her hometown of Riverdale, gazing curiously out of the window at the stepford scenery that flies past.

“Pep?” he asks as they pass the welcome sign, quirking his eyebrows in amusement. Betty simply rolls her eyes, shaking her head at the quaintness of her town, but he can still see the fondness hidden behind the actions.

“Juggie, are you sure you want to come?” she’d asked him over the phone as he packed the last of his stuff into a duffle bag. She was due to arrive to pick him up on the way back home the next day. “I mean, I want you there but I’m not sure you understand the true extent of my family’s intimidation tactics.” He could practically hear her cringe through the speakers. Even though she couldn’t see him he still gave her an affectionate smile.

“Yes, Betts, I’m sure I want to come,” he sighed, knowing she wouldn’t let up. But he knew she was only trying to protect him from the oncoming storm of House Cooper.

“But it’s spring break and you live in California! Wouldn’t you much rather go home and be living it up on the beach instead of getting the third degree in the sleepiest town on the East Coast?” she asked, teeth tugging at her lower lip worriedly.

“‘Living it up’? Betty, I don’t believe we’ve met. My name is Jughead Jones, resident outsider,” he quipped, smirking as he stuffed a last minute sweater on top of the rest of his stuff and zipped up the bag.

“Hardy-har,” she deadpanned, following it up with a noisy exhale. “Fine, I’ll stop asking. But only if you’re sure.”

“Betty!”

There was no going back now, she thinks, as they wind through the familiar streets. In reality, she is eternally grateful that Jughead had agreed to come home with her for their vacation. His sturdy presence by her side would make things insurmountably easier.

She’d been doing well with her new motto of doing things for herself while at Columbia. Part of her motivation, she’ll admit, is the look of unbridled pride Jughead gives her whenever she tells him she’s done something outside of her comfort zone, or caught herself before her fingernails press into her palms. He’d offered to get her as many fidget spinners as she wanted, once, laughing at the way she scrunched up her nose at the suggestion – she hadn’t seen the appeal of the fad.

Maybe she should have tried them out, she wonders as her home draws nearer, subconsciously tightening her grip on his hand. He rubs his thumb over the back of her soft skin in soothing circles, feeling the tension rolling off her in waves. The truth is while his company is a blessing it is also one of the reasons she is so nervous. She knew how intimidating her parents (read: mother) could be, and while he was a complete gentleman Jughead wasn’t exactly the squeaky clean, khaki pants and button down kind of guy Alice would approve of.

“Anything I should see while I’m here?” he asks in an attempt at a distraction, watching as the colour fades back into her knuckles around the steering wheel. Betty peeks at him from the corner of her eye, lips shifting into the blossoming smile he’s come to know well.

“Well…” she begins slowly, lifting up a delicate shoulder to rest against her ear. The gesture is so genuinely endearing that Jughead can’t help but grin, raising a hand to toy with the end of her ponytail. “I promised you a trip,” she says coyly. Jughead tilts his head in question.

“You did?” he queries.

“Yep,” she replies, popping her p and then pressing her lips together, the corners still quirked upwards as they drive down the tree-lined road. They don’t appear to be getting any closer to civilisation.

“Is this the part where you kill me in the woods so no one can hear me scream?” he asks dryly, fixing her with a serious expression. Betty rolls her eyes at his joke and flicks on her blinker, glancing around before she pulls off the road, parking up and switching off the engine before she turns to him.

“Like I would. No, remember when you took me to Mama’s?” He does remember; he couldn’t possibly forget a single detail of that first weekend they spent together.

“I remember the enthusiastic sounds you made when you ate those tacos,” he supplies instead, earning himself as soft smack on the chest as her lips drop open. He chuckles, catching her hand and bringing it to his lips, pressing them against her fingers chastely.

“I told you about Pop’s and said I’d take you one day. At the time I don’t really know why I said that, but now that I’ve got you here…” she trails off, nodding towards the little shack outside of their windshield.

Jughead leans forward, the bright red neon of the diner’s sign falling across his face as he takes it in. It’s quaint and neat and looks a little like it just fell through a time portal right in the middle of the woods. He turns back to face her, noting that she looks a little embarrassed.

“I figured you could eat after the drive,” Jughead snorts at that, because when could he not eat? “And if I’m being honest anything I can do to delay the inevitable is a plus in my books,” she sighs, looking up at him beneath her lashes shyly. Jughead can feel his lips twist in sympathy as he leans over, hooking his arm around her shoulders and pressing a kiss to her temple. Betty melts into his touch, her fingers grabbing a tiny handful of his sweater.

Jughead thanks the comedic timing of his body as his stomach lets out a loud gurgle at the prospect of food. Betty pulls back, laughing, and he’s pleased to see there’s no trace of tears in her eyes.

“Come on, you. Let’s eat,” she chirps, dipping forwards to cover his lips with hers before stepping out of the car.

Jughead slides into the red vinyl booth opposite Betty, glancing over the menu in front of him before pushing it off to one side.

“You know what’s good here. I ordered for you in Boston, your turn to return the favour,” he tells her, settling back into his seat. She’s only too happy to oblige, calling over the waitress and ordering the house burger and fries, vanilla milkshake for her, and chocolate milkshake for him. Betty briefly chats with the middle aged waitress that greets them, the woman only too enthusiastic in her questions about Betty’s latest semester at Columbia.

Their food arrives after some minutes and Jughead wastes no time diving in, Betty shaking her head at his voracious appetite, but her gaze holds nothing but warmth as she waits to hear his opinion.

“Oh my God,” he moans around a mouthful, and Betty hushes him through a giggle, the loud noise having attracted the attention of the mother a booth over. She mouths a quick ‘sorry’ at the disapproving look sent their way before turning back to Jughead. His eyes are closed as he chews the combination of bread, meat and cheese, a tiny blob of ketchup tucked in the corner of his mouth. It’s so cute that Betty has to resist the urge to lean over and wipe it away with a spit-slicked thumb.

“You like?” she asks anyway, even though she’s pretty sure she already knows the answer. Jughead finishes his mouthful before he answers. He looks down at the remaining food on his plate, a little bit star-struck by the delights that await him.

“This is one of the– no, the best burger I’ve ever eaten. And I’m from the West Coast, I grew up on In-N-Out,” he tells her seriously, as if this is a big deal. Betty bites her lip but the grin she’s been sporting refuses to be beat. “I’m moving here, just so I can eat these burgers every day.”

The thought of Jughead being a permanent resident in her hometown sends butterflies flapping through Betty’s stomach, but just as quickly they die as she remembers where they’re heading after their meal. She picks at her fries, shuffling them around her plate more so than actually eating them.

He can see the slight shake of her body as her knee bounces beneath the table, wiping his greasy fingers on a deep red napkin and reaching over to clasp her hand in his.

“Don’t worry, Betts. I know introducing me to your parents seems kind of terrifying right now. But no matter what happens, it won’t change anything between us,” he reassures, ducking his head to meet her downturned eyes. She looks up to give him a weak attempt at a smile.

“I know, Juggie. She can just be so… imposing,” she says finally, having clearly spent some time searching for the right word to describe her mother. “And she’s rude and invasive and I don’t like that I have to throw you to the hounds this way,” she sighs, taking a sip of her milkshake. Jughead rearranges his face into a grin to quell her worries.

“Hey, I’ve met worse. Probably,” he adds at her wry look. “And you’re severely underestimating my charms, Miss Cooper. Give me a few hours with your parents and I’m sure I’ll get them to love me in no time,” he quips, folding his arms on the table.

“That’s all it took for me,” she says in return, her voice light and unassuming in what was meant to be a joke. Jughead stills, and so does Betty once the meaning behind her words sinks in. Her face instantly turns a bright shade of crimson, and if she could move she’s sure she’d avert her eyes.

“What?” Jughead breathes, eyes wide.

“I–” Betty opens her mouth to cover her tracks, to take it back, make a joke, something. But as she looks at him, all soft sweaters and honest eyes and ridiculously cute beanie, her brain detaches from her betraying mouth. “I love you.”

The words hang between them for a moment and Betty’s heart is pounding so fast she can feel it in her throat. She can’t even imagine trying to eat her burger now.

“Really?” Jughead whispers finally, and if she’s not mistaken Betty swears that what is glittering in his eyes is hope. She nods, not trusting her voice anymore.

“I love you, too,” he replies. Betty can finally breathe again, shoulders dropping in relief as the memory of his words wash over her again and again.

“Really?” she echoes, just because she’s Betty Cooper and she has to make sure.

“Really,” he confirms, cheeks mirroring her happy flush.

Going home to see her parents suddenly doesn’t seem so bad.  

Calming the Storm

Nine x Reader

Request: @spacedreamfighter asked: Thanks for answering, would you every do angry Doctor. AKA The Oncoming Storm?

Hello again! Here is some angry Doctor! I wrote this with Nine in mind since he was the first one to say he was the Oncoming Storm, however I think you could see any of the regenerations of the Doctor’s in this one. I hope you enjoy, and I hope to see you drop in my ask box again in the future! Thank you for your patience and support!! xoxo

Title: Calming the Storm

Word Count: 2,562


You knew you were on the planet Skaro. You knew that you and the Doctor had been separated. You didn’t remember being knocked out, and you didn’t recognize the room you had been put in once you had woken up. You had lost track of time not being able to even have a glimpse of the outside world. Had it been three days? Four? Five? You were tired. All you wanted to do was to lay down, but your restraints kept you in place against the wall. The best you could do was sit, but even that was painful with your arms chained above you. You struggled against the chains, helplessly hoping that you may just be able to wiggle your wrists out. You knew it was silly to think that, but you still hoped there was a slight chance, and you weren’t going to quit. You were worried. You worried that the Doctor was in another room somewhere also chained up, maybe being tortured…you didn’t want to think about that, and you really didn’t want to think that there was a possibility of him being dead…No. No he was still alive. He had to be. He was the Doctor.

You knew he would be coming for you if he wasn’t already captured, but you knew that there would be a trap set for him if he did come back. You couldn’t bear to see him get caught because he was trying to save you. As your thoughts continued to run on loop of what could happen, you found yourself pulling and twisting harder against your restraints. When another wave of fatigue hit you, you slumped to the floor, suffering through your arm pain to let your body rest even for just a minute. “Doctor…Doctor please be all right.” You whispered to yourself, shutting your eyes to press the tears that had been threatening to fall for a while. As hopeless as it might be, you couldn’t help but feel the Doctor could sense your plea, and hoped that he would be listening to it.

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anonymous asked:

16 & 32 for the ask meme?

16. Talk about a ship you initially disliked.

i don’t think i have one of those? like i may not ship-ship a ship but i could find it cute! either that or i’d just feel indifferent towards it.

if i did initially dislike a ship though it’d just go on being…disliked? HAHA see: notps

32. Share five must-read fics.

oh my god i love almost every fic i read tho HAHA if you look at my ao3 bookmarks it’s a complete mess and is like a million pages and counting

i’ll just put the first five fics that popped into my head instead

edit: LMAO OK THAT WAS SUCH A LIE I ENDED UP GOING THROUGH MY BOOKMARKS THIS GOT SO UNNECESSARILY LONG

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The door crashes in a thunder,
she walks with lightning legs,
sparking slither lines across the floor
like an oncoming storm.

He prays to a tempest, a Mount Olympus,
that their ceiling won’t crack,
the foundation will not flood,
that this will not be the
final oceanic downpour.


When the salty sea rises to his throat,
he holds his breath and his anchor,
and hopes to meet her down there
on the ocean floor.

—  am kennedy, “Sink or Swim”
Imagine Eleven confessing his love to you

Requested by annon (If you want a particular doctor, then please write it in the request)

The Doctor faced armies of Darleks, Cybermen and Sontaran. He was known as The Oncoming Storm, The Destroyer Of The Worlds or The Lonely God all across the galaxies, so why was this so hard for him.

You were just a normal human being, with a normal life and normal friends. But something about you, he couldn’t exactly put his finger on it, made him think, you were absolutely stunning.

And his body felt it too. Both of his hearts start to race every time he saw you and he was sure, that he loved you.

But what about you, he asked himself, when he looked at one of the screens on the console of the TARDIS.

It showed a picture of both of you on a planet, you’ve been to a few days ago. Both of you wore the brightest smile, while you leaned your head against his shoulder and he laid his head on yours. A slim smile appeared on his face.

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I never wanted to change

In my life, I’ve found that you have to unlearn a lot.

I never expected my life to change so much. I’m 17 and already, I’ve gone through changes that other boys my age could only marvel at.

I’ve never wanted to change, but to better suit the people around me- I’ve had to.

It seems cruel. You spend so much of your life trying to please people, and then it’s all turned around and you end up changing who you are to please others.

My hands, the same, but much different.

My words? Sometimes, I don’t even know if I’m the one saying them. They seem so odd to me, like ill-fitting teeth.

I don’t know how to fix it, really. People tell me to fight, but I never wanted that. I just wanted to be left alone.

That’s all I still want.

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