the wrong doctor

  • The Doctor: i'm the last time lord
  • The Master: hey doc ;)
  • The Doctor: the veRY LAST TIME LORD
  • Jenny: [is created] hey dad
  • The Doctor: i am the LAST
  • Susan Foreman: i never actually died, grandfather
  • The Doctor: they're all dead, i'm def the last
  • Romana: hey wassup
  • The Doctor: THE LAST, YEP, THAT'S ME
  • River Song: hello sweetie ;) xoxo
  • The Doctor: L A S T
  • The Entire Fucking Planet of Gallifrey: [shows up. twice]
  • The Doctor: I'M THE LAST TIME LORD

i’m currently experiencing the pleasant side of surgeons being absolute tactile jocks and as a touch-starved nerd i am living

i’ve only been working a week and already:

  • the head of a department ruffled my nape after i joked with him in a way that surprised him cause i look ten yo and i decided to joke with who i did not then know was the head of a department
  • after joking about tight spaces forcing us to tango around each other a colleague has taken to humming and briefly touching my waist before grabbing whatever i’m in the way of as i swerve
  • (social anxiety can eat me. i got inside jokes with people)
  • i was patted on the head in way of greeting. it was weird but amusing
  • and there have been so many times when they just acknowledge their passing with a little pat on the back or whatever
  • a surgeon almost knocked me over cause she backed into me and then proceeded to grab my flailing form around the waist and straight up kiss my cheek like we’d rehearsed a dance move. she wasn’t even the one i have the inside joke with
  • (no but seriously there is no space)

it’s like working with a bunch of slightly condescending puppies 

6

So… I’m still in the middle of watching Sherlock… But now I’m also in the middle of watching Doctor Who~ xD (New series, so from 2005 ^-^)

But I finished three totally inacurate lil doodles of 9th, 10th and 11th Doctor(s?), so at least I have something to share! :D 

[Other Dr Who fanarts: Small Ten doodle, Nine and Ten w/ flowers, Nine and Eleven small doodles]

  • what she says: i'm fine
  • what she really means: in season 9 episode 21 of Friends "The One With the Fertility Test" Chandler tells Monica they are both incapable of having a baby, due to low sperm motility and an inhospitable environment. I always assumed Chandler lied to Monica about his low sperm motility so Monica wouldn't find out she was the reason they couldn't conceive. (Even though there was no way to prove it). However, when the doctor calls and Chandler answers, he asks to speak to Monica...if something was wrong with Chandler, the doctor would've told him because he was already on the phone. And when Monica asked Chandler if there was a problem with him or with her, before answering, Chandler hesitates and looks off to the side a little before saying "actually it's both of us."
  • so basically all I'm ever going to think about is how Chandler probably did lie to Monica to protect her from knowing that she is the reason they cannot naturally have a child, the one thing she has wanted since the beginning of season 1, and now i have to cry for eternity

Sterek fandom, please gather around me. I have to talk to you about something extremely important.

Because today my friends, I discovered that something called the “Teddy bear hospital” exists.

And it’s even more adorable than you can imagine.

(It’s actually a French association, where parents bring their kids, who then have to find with the doctor what’s wrong with their favorite toy, check all the boxes on a chart with different diseases, then bring the teddy bear to the dentist, the radiologist, the surgery…

It’s mainly to teach kids not to be afraid of doctors and hospitals, and help kids that have to spend a lot of time in hospital understand what really happens there. The doctors are all medicine students, and like my sister, mainly dying inside from the cute)

Now can you imagine Sterek in that?

Stiles pushing the stretcher with the little bear on it, one paw wrapped in bandages because they suspect broken bones. Stiles following a little girl with really clear eyes and actual pigtails, smiling like a crazy person because of how cute the kid is, pointing decidedly at the different doors for her teddy bear’s next appointment.

And on the other side of the stretcher, Derek, the uncle/single dad, slowly melting in a puddle of besotted goo because of this guy in his doctor blouse, with the moles, and the smiles, and listening to freaking teddy bear’s heartbeat.

 

Or.

Stiles and Derek, the medical students that meet during the event. Derek being the surgeon (because he’s kind of worried about handling kids) (and of course he’s amazing and the kid adore him but he worries anyway because he’s big and scary and Laura told him he has too much eyebrow for one person).

Stiles being the charming radiologist, that comes into Derek’s surgery room clearly to torture him. Because he comes in with the most radiant smiles (and Derek always smiles back, even if they have seen each other thirty times already and even if he still doesn’t know the guy’s name) and a kid clutching at his hand, before helping them into little surgeon outfits. Derek can’t even look at him directly; it’s that stunning a view. He doesn’t understand how someone that must spend 23 hours a day studying and leaving on junk food can glow so much.

 

Or.

Stiles and Derek are single parents that bring their kids to the Teddy bear hospital, and both get promptly sent to the waiting room by their independent four and five years old.

They both meet in the waiting room, where they are the only one not enjoying these few moments of freedom, but pacing all over the place like trapped animals. Both of them have really bad memories of hospitals, and they bond ver it after  buying their fourth coffee in the vain hope of distracting themselves.

They get caught making out in a supply closet by a nurse. Both of their kids give them very disappointed looks.

Or.

Laura bringing Derek there without any explanation. Because she’s 6 months pregnant, and Derek will be there to see his nephew coming into the world, hospital phobia or not.

So Stiles raises his eyes from his planning to find that the little Derek is in fact one big, strong ball of muscles, pale eyes and blushing cheek, and closer to thirty than 3. Stiles immediately decides to forgets the “only kids from 3 to 8″ rules and calls dibs (because he saw Jeanine’s greedy eyes).

Derek may well be a weirdo, but he’s a beautiful one. Who mumbles when his sister kisses him on the cheek and actually resists for a few seconds before handing Stiles the teddy bear. It’s absolutely adorable.

Then Stiles starts the list of fake diseases and diagnoses a bad burn on the bear, when he catches Derek’s expression. The man looks completely broken and sad, and trying very hard and badly to hide it.

So Stiles backpedals so hard he physically gets back, hands in the air, and changes his diagnosis to a sprained paw and a bellyache. For the hour long visit, all of Stiles’ colleagues look at them both with bewildered eyes. Derek looks hounded, head hunched and either fixed on his shoes, between embarassement and real anxiety. He stay close to Stiles, and Stiles looks at his beautiful face and marvels. Sometimes, Derek even takes notes.

Stiles is madly in love after forty five minutes.


I don’t know I don’t have the time to write this, but if someone feels like it, please, pleeeease tag me in it.

I need it. For reasons.

Five Second Rule

I was digging through my drafts folder and found this random, mostly finished little ficlet. So I polished it up and present you with some random Hannigram.


Hannibal greatly enjoyed the times when he got to linger in the bowels of the FBI as he was today, leaning over a lightly putrefied body with contained fascination as Jack’s forensic team fussed around him. Admittedly, much of that enjoyment came from the fact that Will was generally nearby and often endearingly vulnerable in this environment, but even when Jack dragged Will away to his office – which he had done just ten minutes ago – Hannibal still took great pleasure in the chance to brush up on his understanding of the FBI’s inner workings. Indeed, he had spent a very entertaining forty-five minutes discussing the use of turmeric in fingerprint identification with Mr Price, the knowledge of which already had Hannibal both rethinking his post-kill clean up routine and considering whether he had anything in his freezer that might work well in a curry. Something delicate and fragrant, to go with the flank of that appalling parking attendant from the previous week, who had been sadly lacking in either quality.

It was, therefore, with pleasant images of arranging his next tableau – something involving flowers, perhaps, for Will – thronging in his head that Hannibal followed behind Price, Zeller and Ms. Katz as they made their way to the break room, having decided that they would make no further progress in the case without “choking down a disgusting amount of sugar,” according to Ms. Katz. Hannibal had nowhere pressing to be, after all, and would happily wait the whole afternoon in order to see Will again once he was released from Jack’s clutches.

That thought might have given Hannibal pause on any other day. However, just at the moment it crossed his mind, he happened to witness the greatest atrocity of his life.

“Oops, butterfingers!” Ms Katz trilled, as a glazed, rainbow-sprinkled doughnut slipped her grasp and landed on the floor, sprinkles down. And then Hannibal watched in fascinated horror as she bent to retrieve the soiled pastry, blew on it and, shrugging, said the words that struck disgust into Hannibal’s very soul.

“Five second rule!”

And then she ate it.

Hannibal had to leave the room. He wasn’t sure he could trust himself not to vomit otherwise.


Will caught up with him later in his lecture hall, where Hannibal was restoring inner harmony by rearranging the library of his mind palace. He had developed his own shelving system – the Dewey Decimal was hardly up to scratch – and was replacing some volumes of poetry when the smell of aged paper was joined by the ever-welcome scent of Will’s presence. Hannibal opened his eyes to find the profiler regarding him with a mildly concerned expression, perhaps discomfited by Hannibal’s apparent lapse into a vegetative state. Hannibal had yet to introduce Will to his palace, though of course versions of him already resided in many of its rooms.

“Hello Will,” Hannibal said, assuming a placid and affable tone in order to reassure his friend that he was perfectly well.

Will, somewhat worryingly, was not fooled, his magnificent brows drawing together in concern. Hannibal automatically catalogued the expression for future commitment to paper. He would have to find several hours soon to do so: his mental file of unrecorded images of Will was becoming somewhat unwieldy. Perhaps one day he would be able to coax Will to pose for him in the flesh. Perhaps in nothing but the flesh, his beautiful form freed from all that frumpy, everyman plaid, the firm, strong plains of his muscles exposed for Hannibal’s perusal…

“Is something wrong, Doctor?” Will asked, pulling Hannibal from his reverie, his tone brusque as ever but tinged with genuine care, the presence of which caused something to tighten painfully in Hannibal’s chest. He sighed and decided it could do no harm to inform Will of his friend’s unhygienic crassness. Will would likely brush it off as perfectly acceptable behaviour, causing a little tarnish to his appeal that Hannibal would be rather grateful of at that moment.

“Will, have you ever heard of something called the ‘Five Second Rule’?” Hannibal asked, unable to keep his mouth from twisting into a slight moue.

Will looked up at him in surprise and then slapped his hand across his eyes. “Please tell me Bev did not do that in front of you,” he groaned.

Hannibal raised an eyebrow, amused by Will’s apparent embarrassment.

“I’m afraid to say she did,” he said, gently despite his stomach lurching slightly at the thought. “You do not approve?”

“Doctor, I live with a pack of dogs. Do you really think I would eat anything that had come into contact with my floor?” Will grinned and Hannibal’s breath hitched. “And I’m pretty certain I clean my floor more than most people, present company excluded.” Hannibal’s heart skipped a beat. “I keep telling Bev she needs to stop, it’s a really filthy habit.”

And then, well, there really was nothing for it but to close the gap between them and kiss Will, firm and sure and with just the slightest brush of tongue to really get the point across.

“Hannibal!” Will pulled back and Hannibal reflected ruefully that he would have preferred the first time Will addressed him by his first name not to have been with such shock in his tone.

“I must apologise, Will. That was not how I had planned…” he trailed off as Will’s eyes snapped up to his.

“Plan? What plan? There was a plan?” Will asked, his eyebrows threatening to detach completely from his head and rocket skywards.

Ah yes, the plan. The one in which Hannibal would – with the help of Will’s rapidly worsening encephalitis – break the empath, frame him and imprison him, to be kept under lock and key until the time might come when Hannibal wished to play with Will’s brain once more. The plan which, Hannibal now realised, he had not thought through with his usual precision, because it would be inconvenient to have to visit the BSHCI every time he wished to kiss Will. The plan which would now have to be abandoned completely because there was little… there was absolutely no chance Hannibal was not going to keep kissing Will, now that he had started. Kissing and, with any luck, much, much more. Assuming Will would let him, that is.

Will, who had pulled back but not out of Hannibal’s embrace.

Will, who was looking up at Hannibal from beneath those ridiculous, beautiful lashes.

Will, who was very definitely smirking and leaning in close to whisper in his doctor’s ear, “Well, Hannibal, it seems you don’t have a problem with all filthy things.”

And it was true because, as they soon found out, there were some things Hannibal was very happy to eat off the floor, even after they’d been there much longer than five seconds.