Go with the team that’s been bopping around time and space since 1963 -
go with Team TARDIS! Whether you’re a sports fan yourself who wants a fandom-flared shirt, or just need something to wear when it’s ‘wear
your favorite sports team’ day, you’re covered by Team TARDIS!
Customize further with your favorite Doctor/companion pair on the back! (If yours isn’t on there, just send me a message so I can add it!)
Some time ago I discovered Doctor Who, and since then I’ve been addicted to his travels for space-time. Here I leave my little tribute to each of the doctors. Today the ninth Doctor and his companion Rose Tyler. Every week a new doctor ;) Hope you like it.
I wanted to compile a list of Michelle’s headcanons because she has THE BEST ones. And she has a lot of them. So without further ado or hijacking anyon else’s post…
List of Michelle Gomez’s headcanons:
Upon meeting Captain Jack - “Missy shakes Captain Jack’s hand. She goes, ‘Hi’ and he goes, ‘Hey,’ and then she jumps on Captain Jack’s back, and then a dinosaur comes in. And they both jump on the dinosaur’s back. And there’s a big water slide. And there’s bubbles. And balloons. And Gucci handbags, and it’s all fabulous!”
Michelle’s Episode of Doctor Who - Would be set in some kind of Victorian era with some kind of Daft Punk music playing, and Captain Jack would obviously be swinging from the rafters, and Peter Capaldi would have his shirt off. And he wouldn’t be the Doctor, he’d just be Peter…and just lot of little dogs, little Jack Russells. And it would be about absolutely nothing and set in a very expensive location with a lot of special effects.
If Michelle Could Call her 15-Year-Old Self - Well, Michelle wouldn’t call herself. Somehow 15-yr-old Peter would show up at her door, and before he got the chance to ask if Michelle would like to play the Master, she’d invite him inside. And then she’d fling herself on the floor and say “What?” and “Really?” about 100 times.
Please reblog and add anything I missed! I’m SURE I missed some because all of these are pre-Series 10. Even better if you have video and/or images to cite your sources and spread a little joy to Missy and Michelle fans!
Our 13th Doctor is getting a new TARDIS interior when the show comes back in Fall 2018. I’m rather hoping they don’t go dark, doomy and gloomy - it was such a relief to have the bright, modernist original TARDIS back; they even lampshaded the ‘atmospheric’ darkness of modern TARDISes in the script.
Here’s a promo photo of the Rani’s TARDIS, with its minimalist museum interior, dark console and “balancing rings” rotor and gyroscope; and three pieces of fan art which could point in new directions. The nubs around the perimeter seem to be left over from the Dalek workshop and are the only thing that really make this design look dated.
Also shown, from various fan-art sites:
1 - a distinctly Star Trek take on it, with the boat-throttle levers, binocular scopes, shaped metal beam rafters, a big viewscreen and guest chairs. The round screens look fascinating, and in theory could be done with custom-made LCD displays, or greenscreen.
2 - a brigher, pearlescent white interior with sweeping curves, that incorporates the roundels into a textural component, with an upper observation deck. The purple roof is very British.
3 - A dramatically widescreen, vaguely Star Wars-y / Imperial design with dark polished floors, recessed lit roundels, the console over a pit, reachable only by a narrow bridge, and 3D holographic imaging.
Given the playful nature of the new Doctor’s outfit - with its retro rainbow stripe and modern take on balloon/gaucho trousers - I’m betting the new interior will be similarly colourful, drawing on 1980s design history, reinterpreted for the 21st century. Primary colours, squiggles, circles, triangles.
Or they could reach back a little further, to the 1960s/1970s and the work of Verner Panton, whose interiors combined geometry with intense colour:
WARNINGS: Violence, blood, self-disassociation, Nazis (ok, just one itty-bitty little Nazi), death (no, really), nightmares (sort of), and a slight mental breakdown. Kind of depression, in a way? This gets really dark towards the end but I promise to make it better.
So, this is my first non-human!reader imagine. You guys will have to tell me what you think. Also, there will be a Part Two for this story, so don’t let the ending depress you too much.
You knew what you were. You… remembered. It had taken awhile - about a decade or so of denial, of not aging in any noticeable way, for you to face up to the fact that there was something very strange about you. And then, the memories came back in great big violent chunks, and you suddenly started noticing things that your mind had blanked out before - you had not family, no past, no friends, no background, nobody who knew you, and you had never thought it strange before. But the memories filled everything in and you were ashamed, because you had made yourself forget in order to stave off the pain. How cowardly was that, that you couldn’t even let yourself grieve?
It had worked, though. The pain was as distant as your home planet, now. You had managed to skip the grieving process rather well. Professional level denial.
You were a Gallifreyan. The last Gallifreyan. And not a very old one, either. You had never even regenerated, which meant… you had another eleven lives ahead of you after this one. It wasn’t a pretty thought. You were trapped alone on Earth with a species that had such a pathetically short lifespan. It was going to be lonely. Very lonely. You would never have a lover or a family or a real home.
Oddly enough, it didn’t bother you as much as it should have. Give it another few hundred years, you told yourself, then maybe it will kick in and you’ll start feeling depressed. But the idea of being completely independent was appealing. You could travel as much as you wanted. You could seek out every single secret from one pole of this planet to the other, and by time you were done, you could start all over again and make it feel new. There was no Gallifreyan government to say that you were being irresponsible with the timelines. There was no one to stop you from being a part of history. You were a Gallifreyan, superior and nearly immortal. You could walk this planet like some immortal creature of legend until humanity started leaving the planet. Then you would leave too, but until then… well, it wasn’t half bad, you thought, to be an explorer with no ties to anything or anyone.
Lonely, indeed, Who cared? Alright, so there was no one to share it all with, and that was sad. You weren’t being stupid - you knew that being alone meant being lonely, at some point. But Gallifreyans were lonely creatures by nature. You were just taking it to another level, and there was nothing wrong with that. You could happily wait a few hundred years before getting to move the lone wolf act into the stars.
Could be worse, you thought, turning your eyes to the stars. You slung your bag of essentials over your shoulder and took you very first step onto the African plains, circa late 1800’s. Today, you would be getting to know some lions on a telepathic level. Who else could say that? You chuckled. No one.
Oh, yeah. This could be much, much worse.
The Doctor, although he really didn’t feel comfortable calling himself that yet, not after so long being the Warrior, slept more than he ever had before. He had spent so much of the war sleep-deprived that being able to sleep for more than a few hours straight now seemed like an extreme luxury. One that he was only too glad to take advantage of, mostly because you can’t think too hard while you’re asleep, and the Doctor was sick of thinking.
The only problem was… well, the nightmares. Those sort of tarnished the whole luxury bit.
But, when he woke up for what the TARDIS had designated as ‘morning,’ he felt so completely relaxed that he knew he hadn’t had any nightmares at all.
Odd, he thought with relief, almost ready to let himself sink back into sleep, when he remembered the dream. The good dream that had kept the nightmares away through his whole sleep cycle.
Lions. He had dreamt of lions, tan and gold on the grasslands, running at his side and leading him down to the river. They spoke to him in what limited language they had, and he walked with them for a day and a night and another day, trailing his hands through the tall grass as he walked barefoot to the-
The Doctor jerked out of his half-doze, startled. A mild sense of disassociation settled on him, adding to his inexplicable confusion. How strange.
He wouldn’t mind having a dream like that again, though.
You knew that you weren’t impervious, nor truly immortal. You could be killed. But after so many years of bending without breaking, you had forgotten that it might actually happen.
“You shot me!” you exclaimed. And you were, indeed, shot. Very shot. Bleeding out for all that you were shot, in fact. It would be a very stupid way to die.
The soldier who had shot you spat out some garbled German that you didn’t quite catch the whole of, but you could guess his meaning very well with or without telepathy. It was something along the lines of, go die, scum! Or whatever the German equivalent of that would be, which was a little rude.
“I’m dying already, I’m dying,” you told him irritably, trying to numb your pain receptors. “Don’t get your lederhosen in a twist, okay? Easy does it, swastika-boy. What are you, twelve years old? You are a very small Nazi.”
Said small Nazi couldn’t have understood what you were saying, seeing as he had completely ignored your very clearly pronounced "Don’t shoot" statement (right before he shot you), and he hadn’t said a single word of English so far. But, it seemed as though he knew that he was being insulted, because he shot you again. This time, you barely felt it, but it was still scream-worthy, simply because… well, it was very gruesome. You had seen plenty of blood over the decades, but this was your own blood and it was going all over the place and definitely not staying inside of your body where it belonged. You noticed the orange tint typical of Gallifreyans and wondered if the pint-sized Nazi would also notice. You did not want to be experimented on by some crazy German scientist, no sir. No dying over and over again on Doctor Mengele’s table for you, no thank you, nuh-uh.
Ugh. Sometimes you wished that you weren’t so well-versed in Earth’s history.
You felt regeneration energy burning under your skin, and you saw Nazi-boy raising his gun again, so you did the only thing you could think to do.
You turned and ran.
He shot you in the back and you kept running.
The Doctor screamed awake, back arching away from mind-blowing pain. He writhed, sobbing, newly lithe fingers clenching off-white sheets and trying to anchor him back to reality. Oh, wasn’t it over? The pain was so- but he- it was- hadn’t he already regenerated? Why did everything hurt so badly?
A warm hand squeezed his as the Doctor came down from his painful high, and when he opened his eyes, Rose was there. All pink and yellow (red-eyed from crying), and beautiful (pale and shadowed, because she was so tired).
“Did Nazis shoot me?” he asked, incredulous, not only because it was ridiculous but also because he was in a room he didn’t recognize and he could feel that he was wearing another man’s jim-jams. "Is that how I died?“
"Er, no?” squeaked Rose. She sounded as confused as he felt. Quite right, too.
“Oh…” The Doctor gulped, fear still coursing through his veins. His chest ached where he had - or, hadn’t - been shot. It hadn’t happened, though, and as his mind cleared up, he remembered that of course he hadn’t been shot by Nazis, but it felt so real. Too real. Too frightfully real, because he knew it would haunt him just as much as all his real deaths did. “Good.”
You liked your new body. It was very… well, you.
Admittedly, you had been very young to already be regenerating, but you supposed that needs must. You had gotten shot a whopping five times before you actually died, and your transformation must have scared the ever-living fascism out of the little Nazi, because when you woke up, nobody was around.
But it had been awhile since then. You were aging at the grand speed of dripping peanut butter, and it was causing problems. Because of, you know, the invention of the bloody camera. Sodding camera obscura. Nothing obscure about it. So you were stuck avoiding the big cities when they started installing traffic cameras. Oh, and photographers, and security cameras, and rides that took your picture, and places where people took pictures, and basically just…
“Hey, now, what’s the matter with you, eh?”
Rose stared at the Doctor, who was staring at the console. He looked so intensely focused and completely lost at the same time, like he was desperately searching for the answer of some insolvable equation. It scared her. A lot of things scared her, though. As much as she liked this… new Doctor, she was still adjusting. But it would be alright, if she could just pull him out of the storm cloud his head was stuck in.
“Hey!” Rose raised her voice. “Hey!”
The Doctor blinked. “What? I- oh… er, sorry.”
“Yeah.” Rose touched his shoulder tentatively. “Are you… alright?”
“Oh, I’m fine,” the Doctor said, shrugging, even as his eyes were dragged back towards the console. “There’s just something that I need to… uh, check, if you don’t mind delaying your visit home?”
Rose shook her head. “Nah, I don’t mind.”
The Doctor’s hands wavered over the controls, as if he had forgotten how to use them. His brow furrowed in concentration. He closed his eyes, and just like that, he was a million miles away again.
Where do you go in that head of yours? Rose wondered.
“Where are you?” the Doctor whispered, too quietly for Rose to hear. It wasn’t for her anyway. “Where are you? I know you’re there, somewhere. Show me where. Come on, call me. You’re not alone. I’m here. Just tell me where you’ve gone. Come on.”
And then, suddenly, he jerked the TARDIS into action.
You were so startled by the telepathic signature of another Gallifreyan that you nearly thought you were just imagining it - you were supposed to be the last, after all. But then, there he was, tumbling around the corner with a youthful-looking bottle-blonde in tow; both of them grinning like idiots. It was him. He was a Gallifreyan, and a Time Lord at that. You could see it in his tangled timelines.
Unsure of what to do, you just… stood still. Maybe it was a coincidence. Maybe he would keep on running. Maybe he wouldn’t notice you. Maybe he wouldn’t even care.
“You!” he cried out, and you were the only one there, so you knew he was talking to you. “I’ve been looking all over for you! Where have you been? How did you even survive?”
He approached you so quickly that you didn’t have time to plan an escape route. He was just there, in front of you, too close, with his blonde friend following along behind him with a curious glint in her eyes.
“Um…” You shrugged. “Surprise?”
His eyes widened. “Oh, tot!”
The word sparked something in your brain, and you didn’t quite remember it, but you didn’t like how it made you feel. (Small.) "Excuse me?“
He was way too close, crowding and cornering. Your Gallifreyan instincts flared to life aggressively in the presence of another of your species. Gallifreyan, adult, male, [compatible telepathic functions, compatible psi levels, compatible physiology: potential mate], loud, close, aggressive, big, threat-threat-threat-threat!
"You’re so little!” he exclaimed, gravity-defying hair swaying as he leaned in closer to get a better look at you. You stepped back. He followed. “You’re hardly any more than a baby! Just a child. No wonder I didn’t sense you before.”
Little? Baby? Just a child? Did he- did he have any idea…?
“Back off,” you snapped, hurt and offended. How dare he? He didn’t know anything about you.
“Hey,” he said with a chastening frown, “don’t you talk back to me like that, tot.”
Your eyebrows jumped up. Behind your eyes, wars passed. Blood (shots fired, red spattering everywhere, two to your chest and three to your back as you burned), loss (your parents, your family, your people, your planet, and you had made friends and lost them all and couldn’t take losing anymore), famine (you had starved with the rest of them and survived simply because your body could do so much more that theirs could), loneliness (it was you, it lived in you like a parasite and gnawed on your brain until there were pieces of your mind missing), fear (water, rising too quickly, rising over your head and filling your mouth but you had to save those people had to get them out but you were drowning and it was so, so dark), and so much pain (water isn’t supposed to be in lungs, fire doesn’t play nicely with flesh, claws are so sharp, the sun burns almost as well as fire does and the cold burns too can’t do this anymore can’t can’t can’t can’t).
Just a child?
Arrogant son of a-
You punched him so hard that you felt something in your hand shatter.
Your pain receptors were in a constant state of numbness because, well, why not? It’s not like you bothered pretending to be human anymore. And there was enough pain without broken bones and an empty belly and so many scars. So you couldn’t really process that there was pain. You knew that you had broken two of the bigger bones in your hand. It wasn’t bad. They would heal quickly, if you were careful. Slowly, if you weren’t. Quickly, slowly; who cared?
He stumbled. The girl was screaming at you that 'you were crazy, what was wrong with you?’
Tell me something I don’t know, sweetheart, and don’t ask questions you don’t want to know the answer to.
“Oi!” the Gallifreyan yelled, shocked and maybe angry. Probably angry. You couldn’t blame him. “What wassat for?”
“I don’t need you,” you hissed at him. Derisive, dismissive, direct. “And I don’t want you. Go.”
He snatched his hand away from his nose blood, slightly on the orange side, just like yours, fell freely, staining his mouth and chin. But his expression far over-powered the color: a look of horrified shock, of betrayal, like you had stabbed him in the back instead of booped him on the nose. "W-what?“
"I. Don’t. Need. You. I don’t want you.” And, just to clarify: “I don’t want to see you again. Go away. Don’t find me again.”
So much loneliness, and there he was. And you didn’t want to see that face or hear that tone of voice ever again. Not ever. You could do what you had been doing for so many years. Nothing was stopping you, not even that wiser-than-thou look he had given you when he realized how young you were.
You turned your back on him and walked, and when you heard him call out for you, you kept walking.
Want to have other women that love some era of Doctor Who constantly randomly approaching you in public?
Then this is the coat for you!
I swear, I have NEVER been approached by so many women in such adorable ways as when I’m wearing this coat. I’m pretty sure a good third of the women that stop me don’t even realize it’s a Doctor Who thing- they just really like the design and style of the coat. But most of them know and there’s always this odd moment of… something like respect? Over how subtle it is?
But it’s also actually a quality coat, amazingly enough. It was 5F out today and it was keeping me pretty warm. I do have a heavier coat that I keep in my car but I haven’t felt the need to pull it out yet this year.
I got it on crazy clearance this time last year on Torrid.com but it looks like they’re currently sold out. Looks like Hot Topic still has some sizes available, though.
That said, sometimes I’m just super awkward about it and don’t realize why someone is suddenly tapping me on the shoulder in the middle of a mall while I’m zoning out about everything I need to get done.
Neil Gaiman writes Doctor Who and this viewer couldn’t be happier…
Warning: Spoilers Sweetie
I love this episode so much. It is one of those episodes that you want to wrap your arms around and snuggle and keep it safe from all the bad things this world has to offer.
When this episode first aired Suranne Jones was probably still best known for being in Corrie. Now she’s probably the biggest actress on British television. And deservedly so.
This episode is very… green.
I really like Auntie and Uncle. They’re a fun little pair of evil minions.
I wonder who Idris was before all this or how she ended up down the plughole of the universe.
Amy is still rockin’ the plaid.
What’s great about this episode is that it is clearly written by a fan, but one who understands that fan service is no substitute for a good story. So all the little references to the show’s past (such as those psychic messaging containers) are all used in service of the narrative.
“Didn’t feel like himself unless he had the tattoo. Or herself, a couple of times.” The road to Jodie Whittaker started here.
I hope that one day Gaiman finds time in his busy schedule to write a novelisation of this episode.
“So we’re in a tiny bubble universe, sticking to the side of the bigger bubble universe?” "Yeah. No. But if it helps, yes.”
The Doctor can now cross “Making out with the TARDIS” off his bucket list.
“Biting’s excellent. It’s like kissing, only there’s a winner.”
I love an Ood too, but i wish we’d got to see Gaiman original, more horrific, idea for Nephew
House (brilliantly voiced by Michael Sheen) is such a great villain, one of my favourites from this era and probably the best one off villain of Matt’s tenure, which is all the more impressive considering because he is just a voice.
“You want to be forgiven.” “Don’t we all.”
Rule 1. The Doctor lies.
“It’s just what they’re called. It doesn’t mean he actually knows what he’s doing.” Amy has got the Doctor all figure out by this point.
The little boxes have made him angry.
Matt and Suranne is one of those pairings you wish you could see more off, but known that is probably better than you don’t because it makes their scenes together in this episode all the more special.
“Are all people like this?” “Like what?” "So much bigger on the inside.”
“You were thinking you could build a working Tardis console out of broken remnants of a hundred different models. And you don’t care that it’s impossible.” It’s not impossible, Sexy. I can tell because ‘I Am the Doctor’ is playing.
This is the second time in NuWho where we see other parts of the TARDIS. Sadly, budget limitations mean we only get to see the same bland corridors over and over again.
“No, but I always took you where you needed to go.”
It’s great that the TARDIS thinks of the companions as strays. Sahme there wasn’t time to hear her personal opinion of each and every one.
Why didn’t Amy and Rory just stay close together so House couldn’t separate them?
This makeshift TARDIS was design by a young fan who won a Blue Peter competition to design their own TARDIS. You just gotta love that Doctor Who is the kind of show that does stuff like that.
Love how she just randomly adds a coat hanger, like the whole thing won’t work without it.
House’s torture of Amy is really difficult to watch. Amy just did not have a good time this season.
Of course Rory is the pretty one. Was there really any doubt?
No, don’t split up again. Dammit. Amy and Rory are basically trapped in a haunted house and are making all the classic mistakes.
Delight for Amy is her wedding day. *shipper joy*
Hello, RTD era console room.
RIP Nephew. Another Ood the Doctor failed to save.
“She’s the TARDIS and she’s a woman.” “Did you wish really hard?” Like I said, Amy knows him so well at this point.
“Always liked it when you called me old girl.” Me too.
Farewell, RTD era console room.
He may not have read the manual, but no one knows his TARDIS like the Doctor.
“Fear me. I’ve killed hundreds of Time Lords.” "Fear me. I’ve killed all of them.” There’s a boast he can’t make again
Rather appropriate that the TARDIS is the one who gets to kick the bad guy’s arse in this episode.
This is so sad. I mean, the TARDIS doesn’t really die, but this will be the only time they will ever talk. I’m assuming. Who knows.
“I just wanted to say hello. Hello, Doctor. It’s so very, very nice to meet you.” *gross sobbing*
“The only water in the forest is the river” As foreshadowing goes, that is a little on the obvious side.
Aww, Rory. You are too adorable.
“No, bunkbeds are cool. A bed! With a ladder!”
The Doctor doesn’t need a room, the entire TARDIS is his room.
‘The Madman with a Box’ is one of Murray Gold’s best themes and a big reason why he will be so deeply missed if he does indeed leave after ‘Twice Upon a Time’ .
Eleven excitedly running around the console and doing his little twirl never fails to put a smile on my face. This is pretty much the perfect Eleventh Doctor story. I’m sure it could’ve been made to fit any Doctor, but I don’t think it would’v worked quite as well as it does with this Doctor.
Does this new Doctor Who Christmas pictures reveal a secret callback to the 50th anniversary special?
When it was revealed that David Bradley was bringing the First Doctor back to Doctor Who this Christmas, many fans immediately leapt to one conclusion – that this could mean a return to the storyline of 50th anniversary special The Day of the Doctor, which saw every incarnation of the Time Lord unite to save Gallifrey including Peter Capaldi’s not-yet-debuted Twelfth Doctor.
Capaldi’s appearance in the 2013 episode has never been shown in the main series since he took over the role, so some began to wonder if his final episode this Christmas would fill in that niggling plot hole. After all, the First Doctor (who also appeared in the 50th) is in the Christmas special too – so who’s to say that the episode couldn’t include the pair travelling together through time to join those events, capping off the era of showrunner Steven Moffat in grand style and also neatly tying Peter Capaldi’s final appearance in with his first?
However, as we get nearer and nearer to the Christmas episode’s debut this fan theory is looking less and less likely. Of the footage we’ve seen and information we’ve been given, nothing points towards any Day of the Doctor tie-ins – but now, some newly-released pictures from Twice Upon a Time do seem to contain a secret connection between the episodes.
Take a look at this Christmas special shot of David Bradley in the First Doctor’s Tardis. As many fans have pointed out these hexagonal wall decorations weren’t actually found in the original Tardis control room, whose walls were instead adorned with a larger, circular design.
However, while the hexagons might not be the same as the 1960s Doctor Who series Tardis, we have actually seen them before: in the closing moments of the 50th anniversary special.
In those final scenes, Matt Smith’s Eleventh Doctor meets a mysterious figure called The Curator, played by Fourth Doctor actor Tom Baker. And on the wall behind them in the gallery? Those very same hexagon roundels, albeit at a slightly different angle.
So what could this mean? Well, when The Day of the Doctor first aired many fans speculated that the gallery The Curator tended to could be some future version of the Tardis, partially based on the presence of those hexagonal decorations (which looked quite Tardis-y even then).
Now we can see these hexagons in the Christmas special – is there a connection? Maybe the Tardis kept that design in storage all this time, and accidentally gave Doctors 12 and One a sneak preview of its future Curator-based design (it’s previously been noted in the series that the Tardis already has unused control rooms ready).
Or maybe it’s more of a visual clue from Moffat and the production team that Baker’s Curator might mean more to the Doctor than first appeared, while also paying tribute to modern Who’s grandest hour (the anniversary special itself) in a more subtle way than just having the two Doctors fly off to hang out with Matt Smith et al.
Of course, maybe this is just an example of the production team merely reusing a bit of old set to help create their new ‘old’ Tardis. However, that would be forgetting the fact that two years ago the series actually brought back ANOTHER original Tardis – one stolen by the Doctor and Jenna Coleman’s Clara – which only had the normal, rounded wall decorations.
Surely if they WERE going to reuse old sets, that more recent example would be an easier target? Either way, why they included it – and what it could mean for the Christmas special – remains mysterious for the time being.
Doctor Who: Twice Upon a Time airs on BBC1 on Christmas Day (Monday 25th December) at 5.30pm
TITLE: Palimpsest SUMMARY: Disability does not equal tragedy, and love is a promise that endures beyond missing memories. (Set after the episode ‘Oxygen’. Blind!autistic!12th Doctor, Whouffaldi) RATING: T GENRE: Angst / Hurt-Comfort / Humor PAIRING: Whouffaldi (Wait for it…trust me.) LOCATED: FF.net: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12493583/1/Palimpsest AO3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/10938483 (Whouffaldi Forever) and also under the Tumblr cut TRIGGER WARNINGS: Unsanitary moments, food, graphic description of suffocation in a vacuum, eye scream, body horror.
I wanted to play around with blind!12 using a mobility device and being independent. The Doctor losing his sight doesn’t have to be tragic and I don’t think he would see it as such.
This story is an acknowledgement of Face the Raven from the Doctor’s POV, and it’s meant to point towards Every Love Story. That makes it kinda-sorta an AU, yet I wrote it with a “could be canon if you squint” mindset.
Bring tissues, you might need them. Allons-y!
[Still image from the Doctor Who episode Hell Bent. Taken from inside an old-fashioned diner. There is a juke box and red booths on the left-hand side of the photo. On the right-hand side are red stools, the counter, a drink machine and other diner-type knick knacks. The 12th Doctor is outside the glass doors, poised to step inside. He’s carrying his electric guitar and wearing his sonic sunglasses.]