Doctor Who Gifset New Earth-The Doctor encountering the Face of Boe for the second time, and finding out he is dying of old age. And the thing is that makes this really touching is that even though the Doctor at this moment has no clue about who actually the Face of Boe is. Because, according to him he only met The Face of Boe once on Platform One–he still was willing to stay and keep and him company like they have been friends for a far longer time than that. It’s just really emotionat, okay shut up I am not crying over large head in a jar. 

Preferences: Height Difference

I am very short, and sometimes that makes imagines a little off for me, because I think, ‘Dude, do you have any idea how far down that person would have to bend to kiss me?’ So this is for all my shorter-than-average readers.

The Ninth Doctor teases you about being so small. For some reason, it just tickles his funny bone, so he always makes a big deal about how far down he has to bend to kiss you. Although, he does much prefer to bring you up you his level. I hope you don’t mind being picked up, because he does it a lot. You had better work on your jacket-clinging skills.

The Tenth Doctor, being his unusually tall self, would love to pick you up all the time, but he’s not exactly… built for it. Oh, he’s strong enough, but like Donna once said, if you hug him, you’ll get a paper cut. But he has discovered that having you sit on the TARDIS console brings you to a good height, so prepare yourself to sit on buttons. A lot. And on tables. A lot. And… basically on anything that’s above chair height.

The Eleventh Doctor is not nearly as freakishly tall as the Tenth, but he’s still quite a bit taller than you, and he thinks you’re adorable. He’ll pick you up briefly, sure, usually for a hug or a heat-of-the-moment kiss, but he kind of likes to kneel. If you’re sitting, he rests his head on your lap. If you’re lying down, he lies under you. If you’re standing he will find some way to make sure he is on a lower level than you are. It’s weird, it’s comedic, and it’s down-right Doctor-ish.

The Twelfth Doctor can be especially rude, and he’s said less-than-complimentary things about your height, but don’t let him fool you. He likes that you’re small. It makes him feel stronger, like he gets to protect you, and that makes him feel good. So, he’s a little rude sometimes, but he just doesn’t want you to see how much he loves it. Indulge the man.


Another letter from the Tenth Doctor in the book Doctor Who Time Lord Letters. This one reads as the following:

To the Adipose First Family

I know what you were planning on Earth. I know what you did, even though you disposed of Matron Cofelia to try to cover your tracks. Sacrificing millions of humans just to create new children for yourselves out of their fat and bodily organs is unacceptable, even if that was just a contigency plan. No contigency can justify such action. I’ve sent word to the Shadow Proclamation, but I know as well as you do that without more evidence they’ll do nothing.

But let me tell you–you don’t get a second chance. Try anything like that again and I will stop you.

Just be thankful that your plan only partly succeeded. Be thankful for the new children you have. It’s not their fault. They had no say in how they were born or at what cost. People died, and you had better make sure you remember that. Remember it every second of every hour of every day as you bring up those children.

Bring them up to be better than you.

The Doctor

Untitled (22)

Characters: Tenth Doctor; Ten x Rose

Rated: General Audiences

Tags:  Angst; Post-Doomsday; Drabble

Summary: The Doctor discovers a mocking reminder, buried deep in his transcendental pockets.

Read also at: AO3; FF.net; Teaspoon (when approved)

Notes: Based on a prompt from @timepetalsprompts: candy hearts / broken hearts. I was supposed to choose one or the other. I chose both…

… sorry!

The TARDIS was silent. The Doctor tinkered below the console, alone with his thoughts: a dangerous place to be these days; a place full of self-loathing, regrets, and two very broken hearts.

Rummaging through his jacket for his hyper-spanner, his fingers brushed against an object buried amidst the hodgepodge that filled his transcendental pockets:  a small candy heart, the last of a package he and Rose had shared with hooting laughter and tongue-touched grins, a mocking celebration of Valentine’s Day.  One heart tucked away, never delivered, saved for a special occasion.


He crushed the taunting words to powder.