“Well, after that adventure, you should probably get some rest. I’ll see you in a bit!” The Doctor left you to get some rest in your room, but after a lot of running, you knew you wouldn’t be able to sleep. Not yet, at least. Instead, you decided to wander around the Tardis, maybe find a library so you could read for a bit before you went back to your room. You knew from experience that you can get easily lost in the endless corridors, so you kept your hand on the right side of the wall the entire time, and would switch to the left hand on the way back. After about twenty minutes of wandering you went into a room that had all of the musical instruments you could think of. “When was the last time someone was in here?” you thought out loud, wiping dust off the keys of a grand piano. After cleaning the bench and the keys a bit more, you played one of the songs you knew by heart, Ophelia by the Lumineers. The song is easier to play, so it would be good to ease back into the notes. You hadn’t played piano for a while because traveling with the Doctor took up most of your free time.
You came back to this room whenever you had the chance, which was difficult because you didn’t want the Doctor knowing that you had this talent. You feared that you weren’t good enough for him.
After a particularly difficult encounter with the Daleks, you wanted to play your favorite song, comptine d'un autre été. Explaining this to the Doctor could be tricky, because you weren’t one to run away to your room.
“How about we go to this beautiful new planet! It has glass for the ground and the sky is the brightest blue-”
“Do you mind if I just go to my room for a bit? I’m sort of tired.”
The Doctor looked at you with uncertainty. “(Y/N), is everything all right?” He took a few steps toward you and his voice was low.
“Everything’s fine, I just need a little sleep so I can enjoy this wonderful new planet you speak of.”
“Alright, but don’t sleep for too long, we have things to do, people to see!” he exclaimed, while running around the center of the control room, flipping switches and pressing buttons.
You went to your room, unaware that the Doctor was following you because he was worried that something was wrong. You had left without any good explanation, after all. You sat down on the bench and started to play.
After you hit the last cord, you stood up and turned around to walk back to your room, but to your dismay, the Doctor was standing in the doorway. You looked down and stared at your feet.
“(Y/N), that was….”
Horrible, lousy, made you cringe, could’ve been much better-
You looked up at him.
The Doctor seemed to catch onto your thoughts.
“(Y/N), I have never heard someone play that song more beautiful than you have. Comptine d'un autre été, right? From the film Amélie? It’s one of my favorites.”
You looked down again.
“Yeah, I arranged it so it was more complex and detailed.”
You quickly looked up at the Doctor, realizing he might not like one of his favorite songs being arranged differently. You looked at each other for a moment, then the Doctor pulled you into a hug.
“I absolutely love that arrangement. And as a matter of fact,” He pulled back and cupped your cheeks in his hands. “I would love to learn it, if you don’t mind teaching me.”
So the two of you sat down and you taught the Doctor how to play your arrangement for the song. It involved a lot of wrong notes which ended in laughter, and eventually both of you fell asleep.
Ultimately, comptine d'un autre été became the Doctor and your song. Whenever things got rough, or when you just wanted to spend time together, the two of you would sit at the same piano and play. The arrangement has been modified and changed, but in the end it always started with that song.
To the person who requested this, I hope you don’t mind that I added a few characters. If you do mind, you can send me a message and yell at me if it makes you feel better.
“YES!” you screamed as the Doctor narrowly escaped the fire of the Santaran and because you hit the back of it’s neck and knocked it out. You’d never felt so alive in your entire life. The Doctor came back around the corner he went to hide behind. “Oi, you, you’d better begin to look after yourself.” you joked.
“Why would I do that when I’ve got you?” he smiled, looking around the corner.
“What if I’m not around forever?”
“Plan on leaving, do you?”
“Don’t get too excited. Duck.” you said casually.
“Duck.” you repeated as you raised your sledge hammer, mirroring the Santaran as he raised his gun. You spun around, whirling your hammer until you were behind the alien, bringing the same fate upon this one as the last, striking the back of his neck.
“Oh, I love you.” The Doctor smiled as he stood and grabbed your face in his hands and pressed his lips against you yours in a hot, sloppy kiss. “That wasn’t supposed to happen.” he furrowed his eyebrows, still holding you gently. You looked into his eyes and then kissed him like he had you.
“I love you too.”
“Why would you do that?!” he yelled, slamming the door of the TARDIS.
“I saved those children!” you defended yourself loudly.
“You could’ve been killed!”
“Even if I had, those people still would’ve live. Isn’t that what it’s all about, Doctor?” you looked him in the eyes and he softened immensely but he was still angry.
“You could’ve died.” he sighed. “I almost lost you.”
“That doesn’t matter.” you shook your head, knowing where the conversation was headed.
“Shall I take you home, then?” he asked. Immediately you started crying. You didn’t know it was even possible to cry that quickly.
“What?” you choked.
“You want me to take you home?”
“No.” you shook your head, tear falling down your face. You saw how lonely he was. You knew what it meant to be alone, how it felt. You could never wish that for anyone, especially not your Doctor. “You want me to leave?”
“No.” he shook his head. You’d never heard him be so sincere. “But they all leave. And I suppose, in the end, they break my hearts.” he said, looking down at his dirty red converse. You rushed across the control room, throwing your arms around him.
“I’ll never leave you, Doctor.” you whispered. You felt his hearts beating fast and he took a deep breath, hugging you back.
“I love you, Y/N.”
“Oh,” he gasped. “I survived, brilliant! I love when I do that.” he smiled, sliding down to the floor.
“Yea, me too.” you sighed sarcastically, finally able to breathe. The Doctor had gone out to inspect the area around you, saying he hadn’t been on the planet in a very long time and wasn’t sure it was safe for you to go out yet. He really only meant to be a minute but ended up taking several hours and you wanted to go looking for him but you were the only companion he’d ever had to follow the ‘Don’t Wander Off’ rule and stayed put in the TARDIS like he asked.
“I am very sorry I was so long. Are you alright?” he asked, looking down at you as you rested your head on his shoulder.
“You worried me to death, but other than that, I’m just grand.”
“You were worried about me?” he smirked.
“You’re an idiot who gets into all sorts of trouble on a daily basis, of course I worry about you.” you laughed, smacking his stomach lightly. You both laughed for a moment before you both went silent, thanking your stars the other was there. He began to realize how close he was to dying, to being without you.
“Do you know I love you?” he asked. You knew he did, he knew you loved him back but neither of you had ever said it out loud. It was always in the air, like a balloon that just kept filling itself up. And you both watched happily as it popped.
“I do. I love you too, Doctor.” you smiled, taking his hand in yours.
“Have you lost your fucking mind, you?” you screamed. “Let me go! They’re dying!” you kicked around as the Doctor dragged you back into the TARDIS. “LET ME GO!”
“Alright.” he said simply and released you. You headed straight for the door but he’d locked you in. You beat and beat on the door but nothing happened so you gave up and slid down to the floor, crying. After he set the TARDIS on cruise control and you were absently floating through space, he came to sit beside you.
“They’re dead because of me.” you sniffled.
“No, they’re dead because of me. If anyone is to take the blame here, it’s me. You know how selfish I get, don’t you. Don’t claim what mine as yours.” he sounded serious but he wanted you to laugh or smile but you just stared up at him.
“Doctor, why’d you do that?”
“There was nothing you could have done.”
“Then you should have left me there.” you snapped before you rested your head on his arm.
“Can’t do that, you know I can’t.”
“I love you.” he whispered. He almost hoped you hadn’t heard it but he knew that you did. “I-I can’t loose you, Y/N, I love you.”
Captain Jack Harkness-
“Jack!” you squealed, putting your hands on his as he lifted you off the ground. “Quit!”
“Not a chance.” he smirked. you brought your legs up to kick them around and try to get free, giggling the whole time. You wiggled around before you grabbed onto his desk and leaned forward to pull yourself away from him.
“Jack, let go!”
“Nope.” he kissed your shoulder. Your waist was held tight to his and he leaned over. “I can’t tell you what I’m thinking right now.” he whispered in your ear as he placed your feet back on the ground.
“I’ll tell you what I’m thinking, Captain.” you grinned and whispered something in his ear that was only fit for him to hear.
“I love you.” he growled.
Vincent Van Gogh-
“It’s color!” Vincent shouted. “Color that holds the key! I can hear the colors, listen to them.” he moved across his living room, crouching in front of you, holding onto the arms of your chair. “Every time I step outside, I feel nature is shouting at me, “Come on! Come and get me, come on! Come on, capture my mystery!” he shouted, shaking your chair.
You smiled, looking into his wild eyes. You loved when he got so passionate about things, showed he was still alive, he was capable of feeling good. You were silent for a long time, just looking up into his eyes, admiring the flame, until he started to loose his smile because you hadn’t said anything. HE was so insecure and he often thought you believed he was crazy and only hung around because you felt sorry for him until you said something only one full of love could say.
“You have the most beautiful mind, Vincent.” you sipped your tea, only looking away from him for a second. “I only wish I could see the world around me the way you do. I couldn’t dream of living in a world so magnificent.” you whispered.
“You don’t really think-”
“I do.” you stopped him, kissing his forehead.
“I love you.” he shook his head, smiling with tears in his eyes. “I love you so much.”
Does everyone remember the episode of Doctor Who with Vincent Van Gogh in it? That’s my favorite episode and I’ve been in love with the character since the first time I watched it. Obviously, I loved Van Gogh’s art before I even started watching Doctor Who but I just really loved his character on the show. I’ve never seen any fanfiction for him but am I crazy? I always fall in love with minor characters. I don’t know why.
One of the things that the Doctor noticed shortly after he brought her on board was that Rose wrote a lot.
It wasn’t anything substantial, really, she certainly wasn’t
composing sonnets or writing a novel. They were mostly reminders to
herself, little lists or little notes quickly jotted down on whatever
paper she could find to help her remember things she may forget. But the
Doctor was somewhat less than pleased the first time he found a note
taped to the Tardis’ refrigerator a couple of weeks after he took her on
board, reminding them to pick up milk when they stopped off on Earth.
Imagine the 10th Doctor Finding Your Diary and Seeing All the Things You Love Him For
Imagine: Imagine the 10th Doctor finding your diary and seeing all the things you love him for.
Fandom: Doctor Who
The Doctor, not unlike other times when you decided to stop back home to visit family or do some shopping, was wandering the halls of the TARDIS. He didn’t like bothering with that sort of stuff; been slapped by angry family as of late. He absentmindedly put a hand to the cheek that had been most recently slapped by your mother. An open door caught his eye, and the door in question was the one to your room.
Curiosity was a both terrible and wonderful trait to have, especially in this incarnation of the Time Lord. He stepped inside, quietly, as if you could hear all the way from where you were. (You were doing some shopping this time. The food machine could never truly replicate a good cup of coffee or real tasting meal.) It was relatively simply decorated, a bit messy, and full of pictures from your travels. Books lied about everywhere, on the floor, on the desk, even on the unmade bed. Out of habit, the Doctor picked a few up, and tried to straighten things up, as a nice favor of sorts. Hypocritical as it was, being messy in his surroundings, action and appearance, it felt nice. He went through the titles as he put them away in a bookshelf in a corner.
The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy. Encyclopedia Mars. How to Avoid Death on Axista Four. Just a few titles from the main library, fortunately waterproof. After the fifth or sixth stack of dictionaries was lost in the pool, it was a good idea to make the improvement. One small, leather-bound journal, wedged between the mattress and the wall was especially out of place; he hadn’t remembered ever putting it in the library, but who knew? His other companions may have left it, or he could have just forgotten in one of his previous incarnation’s spells of amnesia. There was Adric or Nyssa, who usually wrote down equations in notebooks, who could’ve left it, well, in their circumstances. Sarah Jane, as well, the journalist. He meant to pop by again, after the escapade at the school, but he didn’t really know how or when.
He plucked the journal from it’s place, inspecting it. It was pretty unspecial in every way. It was bound, like he already observed, in brown leather, and had a bronze clasp to keep it closed. Curiosity took hold, and he opened it.
The handwriting was neat, in dark blue ink. A date was in the corner of the first page: January 14th, 2014. It happened to be a few days after you had met, as well as a bit of introduction of yourself to the diary, so that answered his question of who the journal belonged to. He flipped forward a few pages. How you kept dates to your personal time was a mystery. May 30th, 2014. He grinned – he had taken you to London, 1900 to meet Arthur Conan Doyle. The memory was fond, and he wanted to see how you say the day. The Doctor began to read.
“Hello again journal!
Today, the Doctor and I went to meet, and you’ll never believe, the very author of the Sherlock Holmes mysteries! He really is a lovely man, Arthur, but he’s a very sad man as well. He wanted to be a doctor, of the medical sort, but he never was able to make a living out of it. He never really wanted to write a few of his stories, either, but I’m almost glad he did anyways. He made such an impact on culture!
Anyways, I still wonder about the Doctor. The one who I’m traveling with, anyways. I suppose he’s grown on me a bit more than I anticipated. Such an enigma he is! Most of the time, he’s silly and energetic -“
The Doctor furrowed his brow. Silly? He wasn’t silly! He was a Time Lord, high in the ranks of the Pyrdonian chapter of politicians, he couldn’t be silly! Nonetheless, he kept reading.
“- but sometimes, he can be brooding, other times, almost scary. I know he’s protective and all, of Earth and I, but even then, every time he stares deep into some evil alien’s eyes, every time he faces a fleet of Daleks or Cybermen, tells them that he’ll never give them a second chance, that he could eliminate any and all of them, I can’t help that creeping feeling. He is not gentile under the skin, at least all the time. He’s a warrior at heart, who’s experienced the greatest loss, and he’s still got that need to avenge his home in his hearts.”
He had to put the book down for a moment. Never had he consciously realized how he could come off as. True, he might be a bit aggressive, but that was only for the sake of intimidation factor. He felt ashamed.
“But even then, afterwards, he’s back to his old self again. When he’s happy again, I love it. He’s ready to run, to adventure through far off jungles and ruins, to explore old libraries, save the universe. He’s quick witted, and jokes around. I like that him better. I like it when he’s calm too, that’s his in-between state. When he’s in the TARDIS library, reading, or drinking a cup of tea, looking out at the stars, or tinkering at the console. That’s when he’s really home. I can’t help but stare then, to see that rare, blissful state. He’s relaxed, physically and mentally. Maybe one of these days I’ll sit and talk during one of those times. We could talk about our homes. Maybe then he won’t have his sad times anymore.”
That was the end of the entry. It left a lot to think on. The Doctor smiled slightly. How many parts of him there were. You hadn’t had a chat like that at all, not yet at least. He flipped to a more recent entry, dated simply November 2014, and had no greeting to the journal, apparently uncharacteristic.
“I can’t believe it. I’m officially smitten with him. You know who.”
The Doctor raised an eyebrow.
“I’m not even going to go into detail… Okay, maybe I will. He’s just, well, where can I start? He’s brilliant; I could sit for hours listening to his voice. Even if I don’t know what he’s talking about, the way he says everything makes it unimportant.”
You were going into great detail into describing this person, how intelligent, funny, caring, and upmost conventionally attractive they were, but he couldn’t piece together who it was. He slapped a palm to his forehead for being so dense.
“Gosh, I mean, we’ve known each other for what feels like eternity. I guess some people just come off that way? Like they’re an old friend you just can’t remember? Anyways, maybe I’ll talk to him about it. That’s the brave sort of thing he admires. I just need to work up some courage. I hope the Doctor doesn’t find this, figuring out one of his companions is completely head over heels for him? I bet he’s got a line of people dragging behind. I don’t want to be the latest in a long line, if it exists.”
And the entry left off abruptly. The Doctor didn’t know what to feel. He had a very potent mixture of emotions; confusion, happiness, guilt, and sadness all in one. He closed the diary, and put it neatly back in it’s place. Down the hall, he heard the TARDIS doors open. Time to face reality.
The Doctor looked up in surprise. It wasn’t everyday that someone would WANDER into his TARDIS. Clara was in Edinburgh visiting so friends and he was in another galaxy so he doubted that it would be her. He suspicions were conformed and it took him a moment to realise WHO EXACTLY just graced him with their presence.
“I know you’re the forgetful one and all, but you should be able to recognise your OWN TARDIS.
Bill’s gaze wandered to the TARDIS, briefly - wasn’t sure if this guy knew about what the Doctor actually did - before looking back once again, adjusting the grip she had on her bag strap. “Should be here in a few minutes, sometimes the lectures run a little overtime.”
Even traveling with the Doctor, you needed your alone time. Of course, you were never really alone. You figured that out sooner than most of his companions.
For reasons that neither you nor the Doctor understood, TARDIS was particularly fond of you. She seemed to like you more than most of his companions, and she would occasionally interact with you when you had wondered off to explore her endless hallways. She showed you things that, in their own way, were every bit as fascinating as the adventures you shared with the Doctor.
Today was one of those rare lazy days in the TARDIS. The Doctor was still a bit burnt out from your recent run-in with some Cybermen, during which he had come uncomfortably close to losing you. He had decided to take a much needed break and sleep, something he very rarely did.
You had slept for several hours (the concepts of day and night were basically lost inside the TARDIS) and had taken a shower to refresh yourself. You felt energized, but in a lazy, comfortable way. You decided that today would be a good day to explore and see what new secrets the TARDIS would show you.
You walked down the hallways at a leisurely pace, running your hand along the cool metal of the wall. You simply wandered along, knowing that you would eventually end up where TARDIS wanted you.
Finally, you ended up at a door. You closed your hand around the doorknob with a fluttering sense of excitement, opening it up to reveal what looked like a storage area. You moved among the dimly lit shelves, occasionally picking up an artifact and examining it. There were stone carvings that looked thousands of years old, metal contraptions from the distant future, and a few beautiful pieces engraved with what you had come to recognize as Gallifreyan writing. You ran your fingers over the eloquent circle shapes, reminding yourself to get either the Doctor or the TARDIS to teach you how to recognize some of the words.
You picked up a T-shirt with a Union Jack on it; the shirt smelled like smoke and gunpowder, and also, faintly, of a woman’s perfume. There was a doctor’s coat with a name tag still clipped to it – “Martha Jones”. There was a dress that was obviously made in the 21st century, yet it reminded you of what flappers would wear in the 1920s, strongly scented of a perfume very different from the one on the Union Jack T-shirt. A Roman centurion helmet, set on the shelf next to a paper mâché model of the TARDIS and a few wrinkled napkins from a wedding. Somehow you knew that these were keepsakes from his past companions, little things that helped the Doctor remember the people he’d lost.
You left the storage room with its bittersweet memories, trailing down the hallways as your mind wandered through your thoughts. You would occasionally reach out to affectionately pat the wall, smiling softly.
The next door you found yourself opening lead to the most majestic library you had ever seen, eliciting a gasp from you. You could spend your whole life in this room and you wouldn’t be able to read even half of the books it held.
You trailed through the shelves, running your hands over the worn covers. You recognized some of the titles as classics of English literature, but others seemed to be written in alien languages. You wandered among the shelves, gazing at the texts and wondering which you should open first.
Towards the back of the room, you saw a single, large book sitting on a pedestal. As you approached it, you were able to make out the title: “The History of The Time War.” You approached it in quiet awe. In the many months you had travelled with the Doctor, he had mentioned the Time War only a handful of times. You knew that his entire race died, and that he felt responsible. But he had never really given you many details.
You carefully touch the cover, the TARDIS letting out a hum of approval. Whatever was in this book, she wanted you to read it. You opened the book and slowly began to read.
You froze when you read it. Instantly, you realized that you had read the Doctor’s name. You weren’t sure exactly why, but Time Lord names seemed to he especially private and intimate. You knew that there was only one situation where the Doctor could tell someone his name. You slowly closed the book, feeling like you’d read something you weren’t supposed to.
You left the library in a bit of a hurry, walking down the halls a bit quicker than before. You wandered until you found one of your favorite places in the TARDIS. You called it the tree room, although you knew that wasn’t really what it was. But it looked like a tree, with a metal truck and metallic vines, each with a glowing orb hanging from it. You sat down against the trunk of the tree to think.
That was where you were when the Doctor found you. It wasn’t uncommon for him to wake up and find you gone, wandered off somewhere in the TARDIS. He spent about an hour looking for you before he finally found you, curled up against the “tree,” your face washed in the glow of the circuits. He knelt down next to you, noting that you were asleep. He sat down on the ground next to you, smiling as you instinctively moved towards him.
He allowed you to snuggle up to his side, wrapping his arm around you. Your eyes slowly blinked open, still clouded with sleep as you looked up at him. “Doctor…”
“Hello, (Y/N).” He smiled down at you, his smile faltering as he saw concern flash across your eyes.
“Doctor… The TARDIS showed me the library. There was a book…” You gazed at him apprehensively. “It had your name in it. I’m so sorry.”
He drew in a breath, holding you closer in an effort to reassure you. “It’s okay, (Y/N). I don’t mind if you know… Just keep it our secret, okay?”
You nodded, smiling shyly. Your stomach fluttered at the thought of him trusting you with such intimate knowledge. “I won’t tell a soul.”
He kissed your forehead. “Good.”
You smiled as your eyes once again fluttered shut, curling up in the Doctor’s arms. As you were drifting back into sleep, he heard the TARDIS hum cheerfully. He grinned, realizing what she had been up to.
11th and reader headcanons if reader is a sweet and innocent bab and has never had a boyfriend before??
Yes! Love this!
11, as (Y/N)’s “First Time” boyfriend, would:
1. Be very cautious of what he does. He doesn’t want to ruin this for you. But it’s hard to hold back the major love he feels for you.
2. Hold your hand, shyly. He would ask first, of course.
3. Place his fez on your head. Saying, “It suits you”.
4. Share his bow-ties with you. He adores it when you wear them.
5. Offer to share his fish fingers and custard with you. Even though it doesn’t look appetizing, you try it once, but just wind up eating the fish or the custard by its self. He still thinks it’s cute.
6. Sing songs around the TARDIS. You’d laugh every time. He… needs a little work.
7. Steal some of your hats, jewelery, and other accessories, because he “thinks they are cool”. You let him do it because you love him and not just that, it’s kind of hilarious seeing him wander around the TARDIS with a flower crown atop his head. Majestic creature…
8. Let you hug him from behind. He would pause and blush, but give in and turn around to hug you back.
9. Try to dance, but stumble in the process. So, you teach him to dance. He later gets better and better.
10. Play old music aloud in the TARDIS console while working on his precious time-travel machine. Sometimes, he’s occasionally pretend he’s playing drums or a guitar. He blushes whenever he gets caught.
11. Always help you with your homework. He’d go on rants about how history class is telling the wrong things, though. But it’s kind of funny seeing him do this.
12. Get a little rowdy with the kisses. But, it’s kind of nice… you’ve gotta say that.
13. Sometimes fall on top of you when the TARDIS lands. You still question if he is doing this on purpose or not.
14. Get visibly jealous when you hang out with your friends. He crosses his arms and pouts like a little kid.
15. easily get hushed up by being kissed mid-sentance. This is useful when he rants about educational things.
16. Hug you every time you enter the TARDIS. He’s super welcoming to you.
17. Let you style his hair. You put bows in his hair one time saying, “I thought you’d think this are cool”. He laughs about it to this day.
18. Hold you as close as possible when he kisses you. He yearns to treasure each of those moments forever.
19. Play hide-and-seek with you in the rain, in the park. You didn’t even care you get soaking wet, head to toe. It was always fun with him!
20. Brush your hair, always being careful not to hurt you. He loves how soft it gets when you brush it.
Summary: The Time War has taken its toll on the Eighth Doctor and he’s exhausted and bitter and very suspicious of the blonde stranger who lets herself into his TARDIS and seems to know him. (Time War!Eight/Dimension hopping!Rose)
AN: For the lovely badwolfrun on her birthday! Happy Birthday MK! Sorry I couldn’t get this all the way finished for your birthday but I wanted you to have at least some of it on time!
The Doctor piloted the TARDIS to a planet that was as far
from the battle he’d just led as he could manage. Technically, he was supposed
to go back to Gallifrey for a debrief and to get his next assignment but, as
far as he was concerned, they could wait a day or two for him to recoup. Romana
would understand. At the very least, she would let him have the time and not
berate him for it too much when she inevitably called him back to the war room.
As soon as his ship materialized with a bump and a rattle,
the Doctor ran a soothing hand over the edge of the console before stumbling to
his armchair and collapsing into it. It had been a rough go of it for both him
and his ship. They needed rest and time to recuperate but those things were
luxuries that couldn’t be afforded during war.
There was a dried streak of blood on his cheekbone and
another, fresher wound near his left temple that was still tacky. He should go
to the medbay to clean up, he knew he should, but he couldn’t bring himself to
move from his chair now that he was seated.
Summary: “Show them your valiance. Show them — you are not a place for the faint of heart.” Rose Tyler has always created herself. When two familiar words make a sudden reappearance, she finds that even bad wolves can be good. Ten/Rose, hints of multi!Doctor/Rose.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Doctor Who.
a man might befriend a wolf, even break a wolf, but no man could truly tame a wolf. – george r. r. martin
It starts with a fortune-teller.
He takes her to a street fair in the thirty-third century, on a planet she’s already forgotten the name of. He wanders off with the excuse of hunting down a part for the TARDIS, leaving her with an unlimited amount of credits and absolutely nothing to spend them on.
That’s when she finds the tent.
Really, she doesn’t believe in fortune-tellers, has always brushed them off as charlatans. But there’s something in the old, humanoid woman’s rheumy gray eyes that draws her in, compels her to take a seat and listen a spell. Six credits for a palm reading, she says, and the blonde across from her plays along good-naturedly.
Long, spindly fingers run across the heartlines on her hand, pausing only when she hits the lines crawling up towards her index finger. “You’re afraid,” the woman murmurs after a moment, still tracing one particular line, back and forth, back and forth.
Cloudy gray eyes lift to meet hers, clearing for just a fraction of a moment before they go back to normal. “Of the Big Bad Wolf, of course.”
Rose stares at the fortune-teller for only half a second more before she snatches her hand back, feeling hot. She slams the needed credits down on the table before stalking away on shaking legs.
Charlatans, she thinks. All of them.
There’s something in the alien’s eyes that yank at her nerves. Like it’s seeing straight through her, into the depths of her heart and the farthest reaches of her soul, into the places she’s tried so hard to hide, the places that have tried so hard to hide from her.
“Look,” the thing murmurs, from within its cage, some sort of deep understanding crossing its face, “Inside your eyes; you’ve seen it too.”
She’s trembling, from fear and something else. She’s not sure what, but it’s something with a life of its own, something she can barely keep chained in place. “Seen what?” she asks, breathlessly.
“The wolf,” the thing says in a high-pitched, wonderstruck voice, “There is something of the wolf about you.”
She pauses for a moment, trying to place the familiarity she feels, staring at the alien across from her. She feels kindred with this thing, somehow.
two wolves lost in the woods
“I don’t know what you mean.”
yes you do
There’s a manic glint in those pitch-black eyes, gleeful and horrible and she wants to wipe it away. She wants to wipe it all away.
“You burned like the sun,” it says knowingly, “But all I require is the moon.”
Things kind of blur together after that; there is screaming, and shouting, and pulling and the Doctor and the inevitable running.
She runs from the howls, from those black-and-yellow eyes, from the words that still echo around her.
She stares at the stars until her eyes burn, until they crash together in one dizzying blend of light and color.
“The Lupine Galaxy,” he tells her, with a smile that says he’s running again. Running from the memory of Sarah Jane, from Aberdeen and Croydon and Uncrowned Queens of France and Dethroned Cyber-Kings.
It’s just them now, staring at the sky, legs dangling out into deep space. “Why do they call it that?” she asks, leaning her head on his shoulder, pretending not to notice the wall that still separates them.
He hums a bit, playing his part and pretending everything’s just fine and dandy when it isn’t. “If you tilt your head a bit — just like that, yeah — it looks like a wolf, howling. Do you see it?”
She squints, taking in the curve of the stars, the point that looks like the tip of the nose from her dreams. Something in her blood ignites, and her stomach churns, just a bit.
She tells him, “Yes.”
She doesn’t tell the Doctor, but when the Wire takes her, it places her in a holding pen of 1950’s television shows.
She’s in a paper mâché forest, and there’s a girl and a bad imitation puppet of a wolf, a red cape and eyes that are supposed to be yellow, she’s guessing.
“Are you afraid of the Big Bad Wolf?” the girl asks, in a sweet, lilting voice.
The puppet turns to look at her, and for a moment, its eyes seem to glow.
“No,” Rose lies.
She begins seeing things — not hallucinations, not exactly, but she’s been fooled before. They appear suddenly, the shadow of a memory standing on a street corner. Sometimes there’s a blur of powder blue lace and silk, the smell of smoke and daisies clinging to the skin of a woman. Sometimes there are stars and planets, coming in and out of orbit out of the corner of her eye.
Sometimes there is a wolf, watching her with wide, yellow eyes from the foot of her bed, or just beyond the light of the time rotor.
It gets steadily worse, the lights, the burning feeling just under her skin, until she’s nearly tossed off her feet one night, after fireworks and edible ball bearings. He’s at her side in an instant, and the TARDIS lights flicker worriedly.
She catches hold of the console when her knees weaken, as her vision swims dizzyingly. He asks her if she’s okay, what’s wrong, and she wants to reply, but her throat is so sore. The wolf stares at her from the doorway, eyes flinty and yellow.
“Rose,” he says, and he just sounds so worried.
Her eyes flutter back to meet his, and she tries to say something. Maybe apologize. If she’d told him sooner, maybe, they could’ve avoided this.
Instead, all she can manage is, “Bad Wolf.”
His eyes widen and her vision goes splotchy and dark around the edges. She turns her head, just a bit, to look at the doorway before she passes out completely.
go, show them your valiance
show them — you are not a place for the faint of heart
She sees tendrils in the corners of her eyes, a tiny ball in the center of her soul, branching out in all different directions, tiny veins pulsing gold.
She sees pathways attached to potentials, could-have-beens and would-have-beens, maybes lined in leather or wool, and a couple with tweed.
There are more, a glimpse of one could-have-been, the brush of hands in the back of a yellow car named Bessie; a near-miss with Daleks, a stalk of celery pressing into her when she hugs him; green velvet brushing across her skin and eyes so blue it aches—
he is still so much older than her meager twentysomething, but he’s so young there, she knows, starlight still making his eyes shine bright
Then, another, a glimpse of what may come, an asteroid that’s not really an asteroid and a woman with the dim and dying light of the stars echoing in her eyes, one in a tattered powder blue dress who looks at the two of them like they’re something so precious—
and she’s so sad, when her body dies, but her laugh sounds like a miracle and her smile when she says “hello” could light up the universe for a million more years
(maybe forever, if she wanted)
and what about me? do I stay with him?
she sounds so scared, but she’s still shining, all pink and yellow and brilliant.
the woman across the way smiles, timelines playing at their fingertips, with the strands of their hair.
that, she says, is entirely up to you.
Rose Tyler looks around, at the potential futures, and picks the brightest one.
there is no definite, she knows. time is always in flux. but she knows what she wants, and she is not afraid to go after it.
she does not know what lies ahead, and she knows forever is not always a possibility. she knows, no matter what he says, there will be pain, and tears, and inevitable goodbyes. she knows not everything can be changed.
she knows it will hurt.
but then, that is a chance she has always been willing to take.
She opens her eyes.
Stars are burning in her mouth and she knows something monumental just happened, if the way he’s looking at her is any indication — trembling with terror and anger, and is that love in his eyes, or is she still seeing things?
“You’re brilliant,” he tells her, voice hoarse, and pulls her into a hug.
And she can feel it, on the edge of her consciousness — a future rebuilt, a potential changed, pathways altered. A hole in the universe, fixed. Somewhere, lost in time, Yvonne Hartman is yelling at her scientists, wondering why the so-called ghost shifts aren’t working. Somewhere, a man in tweed is locking away a hand from another life, because really, that’s very dangerous, having Time Lord body parts hanging about, didn’t you know?
(he tells her a story, then, about biological Time Lord metacrisises, a passing theoretical fancy back at the Academy, and she gets a silly flash of his tenth self in his blue suit with one heart — and doesn’t that ache a bit, to think about the man that wasn’t, the man she knew she must have loved — but then they go visit Donna, and the heaviness lessens, just a bit)
Somewhere, a woman in a tattered blue dress waves hello to her thief and her wolf, and wishes them all the best.
Somewhere, a blue box drifts along the Milky Way, and melts into the stars.
Somewhere, a girl is conceived on the ripples of a War long gone, a War yet to come —
(a War, ended by a man with much too much on his shoulders)
Somewhere, a wolf is howling.
she can see sparks in their timelines
(all pink and yellow and electric blue)
she can see the way they twist and turn, in the shadows of her dreams
(she knows the future can change, always)
she knows forever isn’t always a possibility — that she was born a temporary girl, and he walks in eternity. she knows things don’t always work out.
“It’s no coincidence that the Doctor’s granddaughter Susan is seen listening to pop music in her first appearance. A mystery to her teachers Ian and Barbara, she was a mixture of the ordinary and exotic.”
"With Doctor Who’s cast originally devised as a surrogate family, history teacher Barbara Wright was a sensible and strong matriarch, a figure common to 60’s dramas like Coronation Street.”
"When space orphan Vicki arrived in 1965, Doctor Who entered the swinging 60’s. She might have been shipwrecked in the future, but her startling mini dress and cheeky attitude were definitely 1965!”
"At home in the company of ‘the Avengers’ and 007, Sara Kingdom was as 1965 as the Beatles.”
“Dodo Chaplet was a new spin on the surrogate granddaughter’s the Doc kept acquiring. With her fashionable, sometimes Northern accent, unisex haircut and Bob Dylan cap, she looked like she’d wandered into the TARDIS from the front row of a Rolling Stones or small faces gig.”
"1960’s it Girl Polly changed forever the perception of the Doctor Who girl. Previously portrayed as either teenage girls or mature women, Polly was in her early 20’s, stylish, sexy and the authentic face of swinging London.”
“As Polly’s replacement producer Innes Lloyd reversed the Adam Adamant Lives format so that the Doctor was accompanied by a young Victorian lady, Victoria.”
“Space travel was very much in vogue in 1968. With a career as an astrophysicist, kinky boots and catsuits, Zoe Heriot was a cute space oddity”
Those inspiring 60’s Who ladies (pictures and quotes from the ‘girls, girls, girls’ feature on the Romans DVD)
Sam was wandering the halls of the TARDIS. That’s when he found it, a library. It was huge and amazing. Sam’s mouth grew into a smile as he wandered around the tall shelf taking everything in. He scanned a bookshelf, looking at all the books. Some were old, very old; some looked like binding he had never seen before.
“I love this room.”
He head whipped around to see her: Clara Oswin Oswald. Sam had barely spoken to her since he and Dean had got in the TARDIS. He gave her a small smile. “It’s amazing in here.” Sam said, his smile growing wider if he stared at all the books.
“Here, let he show you my favorite section.” Clara grabbed his large hand in her small one and pulled him to a small shelf in the corner. She laughed lightly as the large man stumbled behind her. She squatted down and grabbed a thin book before sitting on a couch that looked like someone had pushed over. Clara had probably done that, this was her favorite section apparently. Sam stood there awkwardly, not sure it he should sit next to Clara or not. “What are you standing there for? Come on, I don’t bite!” She smiled and patted the seat next to her.
Sam slowly sat down next to her. The couch was rather small so he was pushed against Clara, but not enough to make it awkward. Sam looked down at the book she had grabbed. “Fairy tales?” He asks, confused.
“I love fairy tales, they are so magical and everyone always ends up happy…” She smiles, almost dreamily. She slowly opens the book and begins to read the first story in the book, Cinderella. Sam listens, smiling at the expression she was putting in her words, and the British accent just made it sound better. Clara slowly began to rest her head on his chest, still reading. Sam gently wrapped an arm around her, pulling her closer to him. Clara smiled up at him, stopping her reading. Sam barely noticed, after all, he wasn’t focusing on the story at that time. He slowly moved forward, gently pressing his lips against hers. Sam placed a hand on her neck and laced his fingers through her hair.
They were too caught up in the kiss to notice Dean walk into the room. “Well hello guys…” Dean snickered.
The couple jumped apart, both blushing lightly. “Uh, Dean, what are you doing in here…?” Sam rubbed the back on his neck.
Dean laughed more. "Well the Doctor told me to tell you we were landing soon, but I guess you guys were busy enough…”
Clara stood up and started walking toward the door, but the boys stayed put. “Well are you gonna stay there all day pretty boys?” She laughed and walked out the door.
Sam stood and he and Dean began to walk out the door. Dean smirked a little and elbowed his little brother in the ribs. “You got a keeper there…”
just a short little drabble, i hope you enjoy! (sorry if it’s bad, i just started to write crossovers)