he's the oncoming storm

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.

Being best friends with the Doctor would include

Originally posted by doctorwho247


  • Having a lot of fun together doing the most random of things
  • Being the first person he met after the Time war and showing him a lot of kindness which is why he asks you to come and travel with him in the Tardis
  • Him very slowly talking to you about what the time war is and what happened and you being very nice and patient with him through it all, comforting him
  • Noticing the little things about him, when he’s comfortable, when he’s angry but trying hard to repress it, when he’s sad but trying to look happy and things alike which is why in those moments you always try to comfort him
  • Being extremely sad when he had to regenerate

Originally posted by sleep-depiravation


  • Being a bit hesitant at first with him having changed his face but realizing he’s still somewhat the same man
  • This Doctor was less open about his emotions, always playing off happy but whenever he was truly angry he would really show it, you slowly started to find ways to comfort him
  • Noticing how he went from just being sad over the time war to feeling guilty about what had happened and you try to help him deal with this guilty because you can see it’s crushing him
  • Helping the Doctor deal with all the companions who leave him through choice or force and telling him you’ll never leave which both you know is impossible but neither of you really talk about that as it’s a good way to comfort him and you will travel with him as long as humanly possible.
  • Being there with him every second of the way

Originally posted by yourbowtiefan


  • Learning to deal with his different behaviour in the way that he is more childish.
  • Generally a lot more laughing and happy moments as he was in general more happy but you quickly noticed at least a quarter of the time he was hiding his real emotions.
  • Helping him accept those sad emotions and telling him that no one will think less of him for that and that he shouldn’t forget because it’s good to remember as it helps you progress as a being.
  • A lot of bad jokes when the two of you are alone, playing pranks on each other during travels in the Tardis and just having a lot of fun by doing     really weird or stupid things.
  • Remembering to always watch the Doctor because despite being the oncoming storm and sometimes him being properly angry he is literally the most clumsy person in the universe in this body.
  • Always being there for him whenever he needs anyone because this incarnation is even worse when it comes to not asking for help.

Originally posted by thedoctorimagines


  • Not giving a shit about the age thing at all which makes the Doctor both relieved and a bit surprised because Clara had quite a shock but the     Doctor knows you’ve been with him since after the time war.
  • Either really liking this more sarcastic version of the Doctor or disliking it more, either way twelve still really enjoys your company as no matter     which incarnation you always seem to get him.
  • Helping him deal with his issues just like you did with the other doctors
  • Realizing this Doctor was more protective than the ones before and continuously saying he ‘has a duty of care’
  • Laughing at how oblivious and wrong this doctor could sometimes be and how he was not shocked by the weirdest things you thought off or found in the Tardis.
  • Staying with the Doctor after he lost the memories of Clara and not telling him anything about her because you know it’s for the better. Also, keeping in contact with Clara so she knows if the Doctor is all right.
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

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.

Keep reading

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

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”

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.

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.”


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.


“No, you stupid machine.”

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


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.”


“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.

Something of the Wolf, Chapter 1

This is a prompt fill for @doctorroseprompts pulling out all the stops for Bad Wolf month. It’s a Bad Wolf reveal addressing Rose’s longer life and telepathic abilities as a result. Also a Doomsday fixit and a Jack Harkness reunion with a side helping of established relationship Ten x Rose because I never do anything by halves.

Summary: Rose was able to hold onto her lever just that little bit longer and she and the Doctor both walked away from Canary Wharf. But it wasn’t just coincidence that kept them together, as the Doctor and Rose are soon to discover. There may be a bit more than just something of the Wolf about Rose Tyler…

Chapter 2 | 3Ao3

“I want to go through the flat.”

Rose’s pronouncement, delivered over breakfast the morning after Canary Wharf, prompted an instant of stunned silence from the Doctor. He had been expecting an entreaty for a relaxing spa planet or a quiet day in, not a determined set of the chin and a firm demand. He swallowed, buying time to respond.

“Rose, are you sure?” As Rose’s gaze took on a steely glint, he quickly backpedaled. “I mean, we live in a time machine. You don’t have to do this right away, you could take some time…”

Fortunately, Rose didn’t seem offended by his suggestion. She sighed, and her demeanour softened slightly.

“I know, but I want to do it now,” she said, picking at her granola. “It’s just… all that belongs to my old life,” she said, putting down her spoon as she gave up all attempts to feign appetite. “I don’t want to have it hanging over my head for any longer than it needs to.” She fixed him with a frank look. “I wanna move forward, with you, Doctor.”

The Doctor found himself once again humbled by Rose’s love and devotion. He’d all but destroyed her family the day before, inadvertently forcing her to choose between himself and her mother. After their initial rush of passion and relief had burnt itself out, once the Doctor had taken care of her various injuries, Rose had cried herself to sleep in his arms, the full consequences of the day crashing down on her all at once.

For all that she’d so strongly advocated that her mother go to the other world with Pete, it didn’t make their separation any easier to bear, and the Doctor knew that. He’d assumed that she might withdraw a bit, take some time to adjust to her new circumstances before she could be her old self around him. He wondered if there would ever come a time when Rose Tyler would stop surprising him.

“It’s your decision, Rose,” he said at last, meaning every word. He’d learned his lesson after his aborted attempt to send Rose to Pete’s World against her will. She smiled at him; a small smile, but the Doctor counted it a triumph nonetheless.

“Thank-you, Doctor,” she said, rising and beginning to clear away the remnants of their meal. At the sink, she hesitated, biting her lip as she looked back at him. “Could you… I mean, would you mind…”

The Doctor’s hearts twisted. “Of course I’ll help you, Rose,” he said quietly. “You don’t have to ask.” Reassured, she turned back to the dishes and he grabbed a towel, watching the movements of her hands within the suds as she methodically cleaned their plates.

Was it possible that she was unaware that there was absolutely nothing in the universe that he would deny her, if it was within his power to grant (including a number of things that weren’t, if he were being completely honest) even before she essentially renounced her family in order to stay with him? Half of him was of the opinion that this was a situation that should be rectified immediately and the other half lived in terror of the day Rose figured it out. Still, he felt Rose deserved a tangible symbol of how much she meant to him, and he set the idea to percolate in his brain as they made their way to the console room.

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oncoming-storm-stole-the-impala  asked:

Forgive me host for this is a sensitive question: Can you explain how you can see even though...you know?

“‘It’s a long, kind of complicated story, to be quite honest,’ the Host says. ‘But… I suppose I have the time. I can’t see anything that’s going on–I can only see the future, though I can usually see events that are right about to happen as well. An <event> can be as small as me deciding to stand up. I know immediately if I would hit my head, or if I would be good to stand up. I don’t so much as see the future in the cases as much as I just know the probability of future outcomes. The future is constantly swirling around me, occasionally blotting out any evidence of the present in my mind. Usually, though, it’s just a dull hum. I’ve learned to listen to it well enough that I don’t need to <see> it to know what will happen.’“

Chocolate Cake (MATURE) (Christmas Series #1)

“Are you sure we’re gonna be okay?” she asked Justin as he sat in the driver’s seat, hand resting on the steering wheel rather than clutching it.

“We’ll be fine,” he reassured me, or he tried to. “It’ll clear up by the time we get to your parents’ house.”

The snow was falling heavily, and Justin was having to activate the windscreen wipers every five seconds. Justin was going fast down the motorway, and by how icy the roads looked, it wasn’t a good idea. Although, [Y/N] had to admit, it was a beautiful sight.

It looked as though someone above had leaned over and place a gigantic white blanket over the Earth, she wouldn’t have minded it if she didn’t she the fear of getting trapped in it.

“What if it doesn’t? What if we crash and we’re trapped for ages until we both slowly get sick of each other and go insane?” she said rapidly, feeling her chest heaving.

“We’re more likely to starve before anything else, that being said, I’ll make sure to enjoy you if you die first,” he joked, but [Y/N] didn’t find it very funny.

“You’re gonna eat me?!” she exclaimed, pulling her feet onto the seat.

“I did it last night, why do you seem to have such a problem with it just because you’re dead?” he teased, a playful grin rested on his lips.

“This is turning so dark and so creepy, lets stop,” she muttered. She was still mentally panicking and calculating the risk of them actually get caught in what could only be described as an oncoming snow storm.

“Fine, fine,” he said quickly, he reached over and grabbed my hand in his own. His were ice cold while mine were warm and toasty, I grabbed his right one with both my hands and began to rub it. “Are you looking forward to seeing your parents?”

“Of course, I haven’t seen them in ages, and this’ll be the last time I’ll get to go up there until after Christmas,” she said, focusing her eyesight on his hands that were a subtle pink. “When are you going to see your parents?”

Justin sighed. “I don’t know, they said they’re so busy with everything leading up to the holidays that they might not have time to cater for us for a weekend, I said they were more than welcome to come over to ours, but I don’t know, we’ll see,” he sounded a little upset and it pained her.

“If not, we could see them at New Year, right?” she started rubbing his hand for a different reason then. He turned and nodded.

“I just can’t wait to eat your mom’s food,” he said, breaking the silence that was threatening to take over.

“I told you it was the best. You didn’t believe me,” she raised an eyebrow at him and he chuckled.

“I didn’t think anyone could make mashed potato the way she does, I gotta tell you, I thought you were just exaggerating, but holy shit, you were a lucky kid.”

“Your mom’s food is amazing though, remember the cake she made you for your birthday last year?” She almost moaned at the thought of it.

“I don’t, actually; you ate half of it before I could even get a look in,” he looked over at her. “It’s funny because you wondered why you’d gained weight that month,” he chuckled.

Her jaw dropped. “I’m weak for chocolate cake, if anything, it’s Pattie’s fault.”

“And it might have something to do with the fact that you convinced me to take it with us to the bedroom,” the smirk was back as his mind probably took him back to the hot night we had on his birthday. “I felt so sick after eating so much and then straining to cum so many times,” he breathed out.

“It was a hot night, though,” she said, taking her bottom lip between her teeth.

He hummed, and [Y/N] thought it was maybe involuntary. “I never thought you’d look so hot covered in chocolate cake, and taste even sweeter,” he mumbled and her cheeks flushed.

“The bedsheets were covered,” she giggled.

“I swear I can still feel crumbs on my ass when I get into that bed,” he chuckled along with me. “And you know, it was so hot to see you choke on my cock but seeing you choke on cake, it wasn’t as pleasurable,” this time his head fell back in laughter and his eyes strayed from the road ahead for a few moments.

“That wasn’t funny, I couldn’t breathe,” she exclaimed but found herself laughing, too.

They continued to reminisce, and [Y/N] wasn’t going to admit that some pointers from the conversation caused her to clamp her legs together in want for him then.

When they arrived at her parents’ house, the snow was only falling in larger quantities and raising the levels of it on the ground that was once deep green grass, but was now the white sheet covering it.

“Come on, baby, get inside,” Justin said as he locked the car. His fingers tangled around hers like vines and she felt how cold they were, it sent shivers up her arm.

She cowered as she hurried towards the front door. She could see the bright lights through the window and couldn’t wait to be inside. She knocked heavily on the door and huddled into Justin’s side for warmth.

Eventually, the door flung open and her mom stood looking worried. “Get inside, the both of you!” she hissed and pulled [Y/N] by the arm.

“Hello to you, too, mom,” she chuckled as she proceeded to bend over and slip her shoes off of her feet. She was very aware Justin was stood directly behind her in the cramped hallway.

“Not exactly how I’d planned to be stood in your parents’ house,” Justin chuckled and her mom simply tutted as she always did whenever he made an inappropriate comment. Meanwhile, Justin smirked with pride.

“I can’t believe you still made him drive all this way in this weather, [Y/N],” her mom frowned at her and [Y/N] felt her cheeks heating up at being scolded in front of her boyfriend.

“No, no, I insisted. Honestly, don’t blame [Y/N],” Justin quickly which she appreciated.

“You guys could have had a crash,” said her mom, the worried look still dominating her facial expression.

“Told you,” [Y/N] muttered to Justin and he rolled his eyes. Neither of them said anything else as they walked into the main room, Justin behind [Y/N] with his hand dancing her own.

Her dad sat on the couch in the middle of the room, the TV blaring Christmas songs. [Y/N] smiled instantly and hurried over to him.

“Hi, daddy!” she said and fell down next to him. A smile lit up his face as he embraced her.

“Sweetheart, hi. How have you been?” she felt warm in his embrace, and out of the corner of her eye, could see Justin walking into the kitchen with her mom.

“I’ve been good, thank you. How’ve you been?”

She enjoyed being home; it felt safe, even as she knew the snow was piling up outside.

“I’ve been well,” he said. “Is Justin here?” She couldn’t help but adore the way he asked hopefully.

“Yeah, he’s in the kitchen with mom.”

Just as she said that, Justin came walking into the main room, her mom not far behind him.

“.. You’ve gotta teach me how to make it because honestly, I have wet dreams about that mashed potato,” she could hear him say and she chuckled. He walked over to her and smiled. “If I told you it usually consists of you rolling around in it, would you judge me?” he muttered, she could feel his breath on her ear.

“Hey, you dream of mashed potato, I dream of chocolate cake,” she patted his chest and he chuckled before planting a kiss on her head.

Her dad looked as though he’d been itching to speak so when it fell quiet he jumped at the chance.

“Justin! It’s lovely to see you again, how are you?” he asked and Justin dropped down onto the couch beside him.

“I’m good, yeah, I’ve been a little busy lately but it feels great to be home,” he said, throwing his arm over the back of the couch. “What about you? How are you?”

She smiled at them before strolling over to her mom who was currently pouring four glasses of wine. The red liquid consumed the glass and made its home, [Y/N] watched it fill the last glass before grabbing two and walking back towards the two men chatting away.

She moved around the couch, she smiled at the two of them. Justin took his gratefully and sent her a heartwarming smile.

“Thank you, babygirl,” he said as she leaned over him to hand the other to her dad.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” he responded and took a sip. [Y/N] went to walk away, only to be dragged back by Justin’s determined hand.

“Stay,” he muttered while pulling her onto his lap. She felt his warmth against her back and his lips dangerously close to her neck.

She watched her dad sigh and get to his feet. She wasn’t sure if it was out of awkwardness or something else.

“I’m not a dog, Justin,” she chuckled.

“I know that, but I’d still like to chain you up and give you a bone,” he purred, and [Y/N] didn’t know whether to laugh, or jump on him.

“That was creative, I’ll give you that,” she grinned at him, catching his eyesight. They fell silent as they watched each other.

“Don’t look at me like that, I’ll tie you to this coffee table and give it to you right now,” he muttered before lifting the glass to his lips.

“That was my grandmother’s coffee table,” she said blankly.

“Oh,” he mumbled quietly. “Well, we have one at home that’s in perfect condition to give you a good fucking on,” he exclaimed.

“Thank you for that, Justin,” [Y/N] heard her mom’s voice. “Dinner’s ready.”

Justin said nothing else beside pull faces to [Y/N] that scream ‘oops’ as they walked into the dining room. The table was set neatly and she almost didn’t want to sit down.

“This looks wonderful,” Justin said, his cheeks still slightly pink. His eyes inspected his plate full of food and he looked almost excited. She didn’t blame him; she could feel her stomach begging her.

They ate in silence for a while, and it gave [Y/N] a few minutes to reflect on the time Justin reached over and pressed his hands between her thighs while they were sat in the exact same spot. She was sure, from the way she shrieked and alarmed her parents last time, he wouldn’t be doing it again.

She craned her neck so she could see out of the window, snow was still falling heavy and it had layered the edges of the windowpane.

“D'you think the storm’s here to say?” Justin asked, taking a forkful of food into his mouth, obviously having turned his attention to the snow, too.

“They said it was supposed to ease off by seven,” her mom said. She looked at the clock to see it was almost six. There was still time. “You’re not driving home in this, you can stay over if it doesn’t stop.”

“Honestly, we’ll be okay, but thank-”

“Justin, I’m not dying for nobody tonight,” [Y/N] interrupted. “We can sleep in the spare room if it comes to it,” she said.

She heard her mom laugh and it caused her head to turn towards her, Justin’s did, too. “I don’t want any funny business going on. Justin, you can take [Y/N]’s old bedroom, [Y/N], you can sleep down here,” she said, meanwhile, her dad hadn’t spoken since they’d sat down.

“Mom, come on, we’re adults-”

“Maybe so, but I know what Justin’s like,” she said, sending him a knowing look. All he did was try and hide a grin. Her mom was right, [Y/N] had no doubt Justin would try something if they shared the spare bed, but she couldn’t help but want his warmth beside her like she was used to.

Once dinner was over and the dishes had been washed by her and Justin - after her mom objected and refused their help - they sat in the living room, the TV playing softly and each of them with a cup of tea in their hands. Justin’s hand was rested happily, but dangerously, on [Y/N]’s thigh.

The snow hadn’t calmed down, if anything, it’d gotten worse. [Y/N] was sure she was going to be sleeping on the couch with Justin upstairs that night.

“You’ll stay the night,” her mom insisted. “As far as pyjamas go, you can borrow something if you’d like?”

“I’m honestly fine in my boxers,” Justin said carelessly before taking a sip of the milky liquid slowly disappearing from his cup.

“I think I’ll be okay, too, thank you,” [Y/N] said.

“As long as you’re sure. I’m going to head to bed, I’ve got a lot to get sorted tomorrow with Christmas coming up,” her mom said, sitting at the edge of the couch. “[Y/N], Justin, I’ll be listening,” she sent a warning look between the pair of them.

“I’ll take the couch, [Y/N] can have the bed,” Justin said, holding the empty cup on his thigh.

“You two can decide on that-”

“Why not just let them sleep in the same room together? They’re not teenagers, they don’t have raging hormones anymore, [Y/M/N],” her dad finally spoke and [Y/N] couldn’t help but chuckle.

She was very aware that they were no longer teenagers, that didn’t stop Justin from wanting to touch her every second of every day, sometimes where it wasn’t appropriate.

“I’m just watching out for them,” her mom defended. “Come on, [Y/N], upstairs. Justin, I’ll bring the spare cover and pillows down.”

They came alive as they all got to their feet apart from Justin, who stayed seated. [Y/N] smiled at him, as he did at her, when she took his cup and walked into the kitchen and cleaned them. She placed them on the side and heard her parents’ feet against the stairs. What she didn’t hear was Justin entering the kitchen and moving towards her.

She instantly felt a pair of arms snake around her waist and hot lips on her neck. She stayed quiet as the hands slithered up and gripped her boobs roughly in their grasp. She sighed involuntarily.

“I’ll see you in the morning, yeah?” he whispered, his lips still hovering above her skin.

She smiled and nodded. “You sure will.”

“I love you so much,” he mumbled and she felt his hands abandon her chest and dip into her jeans. His warm fingers put pressure on her clit through her underwear.

“I love you, too,” she whispered with absolutely no control of the strength of her voice.

He hummed and rubbed in slow circles. “Off to bed,” he said as he pulled away from her completely, she sighed with want, knowing she couldn’t have. “Sleep well, okay?” His lips met her own and stayed for just a little longer than normal.

“Night, Justin,” she hugged him and he kissed the top of her head. She felt him following her out of the kitchen, but parting from her as he stayed in the living room. She turned her head and saw him watching her as she took the first step of the stairs, she also saw the covers and pillows laid out neatly on the arm of the couch. “See you tomorrow.”

It was dark at the top of the stairs, and she could hear her parents talking within themselves, she didn’t bother to listen to their conversation. She walked into her childhood bedroom and sighed.

The walls were still pink and it consisted of the same furniture. The only thing that was different was the bed; it was bigger and she was thankful.

It was warm in the bedroom and she felt herself becoming sleepy at the feeling of being surrounded by the heat. She grabbed the end of her T-shirt and pulled it over her head, walking closer to the bed before unbuttoning her trousers and sliding them down her legs.

She thought about Justin as she climbed into bed, and she thought about the snow storm and the fact that it was Christmas in a week and she was getting to spend it with the love of her life. She felt relaxed and content as she pulled the covers up to her chin.

It seemed to be only ten minutes before sleep was taking over her body, she became drowsy and soon enough, she couldn’t keep her eyes open for too long. Although, her mind became distracted when she heard creaking outside of her bedroom before the door knob turned. She blinked through the darkness.

Justin was walking towards her in nothing but his boxers. She threw the covers back and let him climb inside, even if she was mentally questioned his presence.

“Justin, my parents are only across the hall,” she whispered, shivering as she felt his cold chest against her own.

“It was cold downstairs,” he replied, whispering also. She didn’t say anything as she followed his hand, it trailed around her back and started to create invisible paintings on her skin. “Let me please you.”

“What part of ‘my parents are only across the hall’ don’t you understand?”

“All of it but I’m a sucker for challenges,” he said, a smirk was only just visible through the darkness that acted as a fog in front of her eyes. “Face the other way.”

Reluctantly and nervously, she rolled over onto her back and turned over so her back was against Justin’s chest. She felt his cold hands move around so that they were inside of her underwear. It was like ice had been slid over her clit and she instantly remembered the time they had experimented with ice during sex, she felt her stomach tightened when she remembered how pleasing it was.

“Baby,” he whispered into her ear and it caused the hairs on her neck to stand. “You’re so warm,” he grunted quietly. She hummed in response.

She took her hand and brought it around her back and moved down. She rubbed Justin’s length through his boxers and his fingers put more pressure onto her clit.

“Fuck,” he whispered. “Don’t stop.”

She didn’t plan on stopping, especially when she felt his breath on her neck. She simply rubbed harder and faster, and she could feel Justin’s hips moving forward to meet her hand.

He moaned loudly through the darkness. “Fuck, I’m sorry,” he whispered, digging his face into the dip in her neck.

They had to be as silent as they could, and she knew it was a great struggle for the two of them; they liked being vocal with each other and hearing how they were feeling, and having that suddenly taken away didn’t fit either of them.

“Justin,” she mumbled, biting down on her bottom lip to stop herself from crying out when she felt his fingers dip into her entrance, pushing their way through. “Fuck me.”

“Are you sure you can handle it without being too loud? I don’t know if I can,” he said, kissing her shoulder as he thrusted two fingers into her before pulling them out again.

“I need you.”

That seemed to be all he needed to hear to be won over. “Take off your panties,” he rasped as quietly as he could, and she obeyed and shuffled to slide them down her legs. It caused her ass to push against Justin’s crotch. “Good girl.”

She waited as she felt him shuffle, assuming he was taking his boxers off. Shortly after, she felt the palm of his hand glide over her ass and soft moan slipped into her ear.

“So tight, just for me.” He let his hand slide between her thighs and levitate the one that was free to move. She could feel his cock pushing into her and she whimpered. “Baby, baby, baby,” he whispered slowly, evidently relishing in the feeling.

“Oh my god,” she whispered. It was uncomfortable to have Justin holding her leg up, but she didn’t complain as he created a slow rhythm in and out of her.

“You like that?” he taunted her. “You like having my cock buried deep inside of your tight cunt, right?”

She could already feel herself becoming breathless and she could hear Justin panting from behind her. She pushed her hips back against him as his own were moving forward, their skin collided perfectly.

“Fuck,” she whispered, he reached deeper parts of her and it caused fireworks to explode in the bit of her stomach.

She could hear the bed squeaking as Justin rocked his hips, she assumed he was ignoring it rather than not hearing it, and she was sure her parents would hear it, too. However, she was in that state where, it wasn’t that she didn’t care, she was just taken over by her desire for release. She ignored it from then on.

“I’m sorry, I’m so close already,” he whispered, his head pressed against the side of hers. “Are you?”

“Mhm.” She took a hold of his hand and he must have thought she wanted to lock hands because his fingers latched around her hand. However, she took his hand between her legs and hoped he’d understand what she wanted. He chuckled deeply into her ear and she enjoyed the sound very much.

“Thought you wanted to hold hands while we cum,” he mumbled, kissing her cheek. “Silly me.” With that, his warm fingers started to play with her clit, rubbing it side to side, then up and down, then in circles - he didn’t seem to be sticking to any kind of routine. She felt his chest vibrate as he growled. “I’m gonna cum,” he said, letting out a shaky breath.

She wasn’t far behind, and she knew feeling him let go would tip her over the edge. She somehow felt his stomach tighten which told her immediately that he’d reached his peak. His fingers became distracted but they still managed to rub her clit with a feather-like touch, meanwhile, his strong strokes against her walls continued.

“Holy f-fuck,” he hissed, rather quietly which she admired. “Cum for me, princess.”

He didn’t even have to ask; she was on the verge just as he was coming down from his high and she could feel the intoxicating bliss setting into her lower body, along with Justin’s gaze on the side of her face.

“C'mon, baby. There it is,” he whispered as she shook. The leg he was holding - still - trembled against his grasp but he didn’t let go.

“J-Justin,” she gasped as he thrusted into her exceptionally hard while still trying to keep the volume of his movements down.

“I know, I know,” he rasped, letting his lips kiss her neck. They were hot. “You look so beautiful when you cum.”

She panted heavily, feeling slight sweat on her forehead due to being enclosed underneath the sheets in the sweltering room. He hummed and wrapped his arms around her waist.

“I love you,” he said, louder than he’d spoken since he’d arrived. It frightened her just a little.

“I love you, too,” she replied, finally rolling over so she was laid on her back. She watched him move so his head rested on his hand. His eyes searched her face, for what, she wasn’t sure.

“You should probably go,” she said and he pouted almost instantly. “You’ve gotta drive all the way home tomorrow.”

“That’s true. But having silent sex with you sounds so much more appealing than sleeping right now,” he smirked and leaned down to kiss her shoulder.

“Go,” she whispered. “I wanna sleep.” She leaned over and kissed his lips, they were warm and wet against her own. He kissed back instantly.

“Fine,” he grumbled. “I suppose we have the whole of Christmas to give each other some lovin’ as loud as we want.” His teeth latched onto her bottom lip and tugged at it before he let go and slid out of her bed, leaving a sense of warmth beside her.

Undercover? With Him? {Part 1}

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: You and Peter have a slight grudge against each other and when you are assigned to go undercover as a engaged couple, you have to get over your differences.

Word Count: 797

A/N: I’m SOOO excited for this! Tell me how it is!

Warnings: Nothing. Well, HAMILTON but nothing else. Also Peter is 22 and so are you.

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“Mm, Whatcha Say” - Digitally Painted Gif

I know it’s a short gif, with only 6 frames, but there was a lot going on in each picture, so I kept it short. I really like this moment though, where the Doctor puts his ‘Oncoming Storm’ face on!

This is NOT a Photoshop filter, every stroke is painted by me.

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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My fav thing with the garrus romance is how he says like “i dont have a human fetish”

Because that says 2 things:

1: he’s having sex (and an eventual relationship) with Shepard NOT because shes human, but because he respects her in the HIGHEST regard. Shepard is his superior. He’s very neutral with his opinions, and regardless of what he feels in a situation, if what Shepard is doing she believes is the right thing, he’ll stay by her. When she joins CERBERUS, a group that makes most of your companions upset with and makes kaidan/ash LEAVE for the whole game and doubt if you’re “you”, he straight up says “even if cerberus is shitty, if YOURE working with them, you have a good reason for it and i trust you.” Hell, even in a place where theres PLAUGE THAT COULD KILL HIM, he still says “but if you need me, ill go”. He gets cheesy when you romance him. He plays music and buys wine. He tries so hard to make this “special” between two brothers in arms, facing a suicide mission where they might not make it out alive. He wants to let Shepard have one night of calm in an oncoming storm of death, one night between friends that turns into a loving, trust built relationship.

2: theres an actual human fetish.

The Sun that Shines on You


AU: Raphael has a motorbike and Simon works at a garage. 

Raphael cursed as his vehicle spluttered dangerously, expelling grey smoke from its exhaust pipe like a warning for an oncoming storm, because it was. He hated it when his bike did that as much as he loved it. He hated it because it was old, very old. It belonged to his eldest brother and he loved it because it had been with him all this time. The bike ran on hope and that proud smile his mother gave it as if she imagined it would take him to heaven.

He was in the middle of Brooklyn and had no idea where he was. He stopped his bike and ran a hand through his dark curly locks cursing in his native language. He drove to the side of the road and climbed off. It was better to find a garage nearby, there was no way he could carry this thing all the way back home. 

He found out there was a garage a few blocks over. He carried his bike and by the time he reached the place, he was sweaty. The day was mercilessly hot and Raphael was not used to daylight. He worked night shifts at his job and slept through the afternoon. He entered the garage and stopped dead in his tracks.

A boy was standing there. He had dark brown hair that fell into the darkest chocolate brown eyes Raphael had ever seen. He wore glasses with a brown frame which were currently slipping down his nose. He was shirtless, probably because of the weather, and his sweaty hair curled at the nape of his neck. Raphael swallowed. He saw the way the sunlight from the window bathed him in its glow, refining the planes and angles of his body and suddenly the sunshine didn’t seem that bad to Raphael.

It took him embarrassingly long to realize that he had been staring at the boy and the boy had been staring back. The boy blinked and rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably.

‘Can I,’ the boy asked clearing his throat. ‘Can I help you?’

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