Coffee And A Chat. (Ninth Doctor Imagine)

I can get a doodle of it done tonight maybe!

*squeeeeeeeeee*

“PLEASE!”

That might have been the first time you’d ever heard Dark speak sincerely, or say the word “please” in any context other than sneering dismissive commentary.

He was hanging by one arm, trying desperately to get a hold with the other but failing because his hand was broken to shit, shattered into little pieces by the fall. If no help came for him, he’d fall into the crumbling void, and whether he’d die there or not you’d never know.

But you couldn’t seem to move.

“CAN’T YOU HEAR ME?! GET ME OUT OF HERE!” His voice was cracking underneath its echoes and distortion, and it was clear from his tone he’d given up on his “I need no one” attitude that’d been his trademark. He genuinely sounded afraid, and in that moment, so much like Mark.

That, you decided, was the reason that you scrambled over to the ledge and grabbed his arm, grunting from the pain of trying to pull him up. He scrambled along the wall and after a tense moment, managed to crumple onto the ground beside you. Neither of you moved for a long moment, just heaving in labored breaths and trying to get your sense back.

“Why?”

You turned to look at him, frowning in confusion. He was sitting up slightly, hunched forward and holding his broken ribs and hand. You struggled to sit up.

“W...why what?”

“Why did you save me?”

“You asked me to, asshole.”

He glared at you, but the usual deadly malice was missing. He just looked tired. “I’ve asked you for a thousand things. I’ve forced you to do a thousand things, and you...you had the chance to be free, to get rid of me, why didn’t you...?”

You sighed heavily, lying back down to stare at the...ceiling? Was it a ceiling or was it sky, or was it neither? You supposed it didn’t matter too much. “Because...you sounded afraid.”

“Why does that matter?” There was a little bit of anger in that one, but it didn’t seem to be directed at you.

“I’ve never heard you sound like that before. You sounded like...”

“Like him.”

A long pause. “Yes. And no.” He frowned at you, and you elaborated. “You sound like Mark, yes, but...mostly, you just sounded like a person. Any other person. Someone who didn’t want to die. And I don’t think I could live with myself if I let you fall, and there was any chance that you were...”

“What? Human?” A sigh, again, and then, disdainfully, “There is nothing human left in me.”

“Left?” That was a surprise. Since when had there been anything human about him at all? But he didn’t seem willing to tell you any more. You thought for a moment. “Well, it sounded to me like there was something left. Small as it was, it was there. Maybe...maybe whoever you were originally isn’t as far gone as you thought.”

The look he gave you then was terrifying. Not in his usual “I’m going to rip you apart just to see what makes you tick” way, but in a way that was more subtle, and more chilling. He looked at you as if you’d given him hope he didn’t want, and he looked very much like a man that was just too tired. Done up in that suit of his, disheveled and broken, he looked like he could’ve been some politician, caught up in some scandal he hated, just wanting to do the best he could to make the world better. He looked like a different person completely.

“What was your name?” The look hardened. “Before you were Dark, what was your name?”

“It doesn’t matter anymore. That person is dead, and anything they were is dead along with them. What’s dead should stay that way.” He stood, cracking his neck sickeningly, and seeming to pop some of the bones in his chest back into place, and turned away, starting to walk. “If you can’t get up, then die here. If you can, then follow me so you don’t.”

You stood, certain he would be good to his word and let you die here if you didn’t. But you could never look at him the same way ever again.

If Darkiplier was reaching out to you, would you help or let let him die?

You choose.

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Applegrass

Pairing: Ten/Rose

Rating: PG for heavy angst

He was lying on applegrass. But that couldn't be right. The last time he'd done this... He looked beside him.

There she was, grinning down at him, blonde hair whipping in the breeze, her tongue between her teeth, exactly how he remembered. "Doctor? You fell asleep on me. You alright?"

A small awe-fillled smile crept across his face. "Rose?" he said, very quietly, not quite daring to believe it. She laughed and his hearts nearly stopped. "Yeah, 'course I am. Who'd you expect? Is that whole regeneration thingy still messin' with your 'ead?" He laughed just a little. "I...it must be. I...I must have just....dreamt it all...?" She grew concerned and he wanted to slap himself. He never wanted to see anything but a smile on that face ever again. "What'd you dream about tha's got you so rattled?" He sat up slowly. "I dreamed...I dreamed I-I'd lost you....I dreamed I was alone....This whole weird thing with a...an ancient creature, on Earth....it was Christmas...and there was this bride...but all I could think, seeing her in that-that dress, was...." He stared at her through this whole little speech, and realized what he was about to say almost too late. He managed to stop himself, and cleared his throat awkwardly. Rose stared right back into his eyes, and murmured, "Doctor...what were you thinkin' about?" And looking into the eyes he could have sworn he'd be missing for the rest of his long lives, without the hope of seeing them again, he gave in to what he'd resisted for what felt like too long. "I kept thinking about how beautiful you'd look in  a wedding gown, and how much I missed you, and how much it hurt that I'd never...never said..." She looked shocked that he'd said it out loud, and was blushing violently. He chuckled and pulled her into a hug as she whisper-squeaked "Doctor!" into his shoulder. They held each other for a moment before she pulled back a little, cleared her throat, and said nervously, tucking hair behind her ear-a habit he loved so much-"So...does that mean...do you...?" He almost couldn't believe what he was doing, but he had been given the chance to see what could happen if he didn't.He could never let her go. He thought he had always known he couldn't. Though it didn't make any sense, though he was still a Time Lord and she was still human...he didn't care anymore. So, he leaned in, cupping her face with one hand and tucking the other around her waist. She gasped slightly. He smiled and brushed her lips, gently, almost hesitantly, almost as if he were asking for permission. She granted it by kissing him back, firmly but very, very gently.He couldn't breathe, couldn't think, didn't want to. In this moment, he wasn't a soldier, or a survivor, or a god, or an alien. He was just a man, kissing the most amazing, impossible, beautiful, fantastic woman who had ever lived. After a very long moment, they pulled back to look at each other, and giggled awkwardly, their forheads pressed together. "Finally," Rose cheeked, nudging his arm, "Took you this long to figure that out?" He took her hand and stared at it, his thumb stroking affectionately across her knuckles. "Rose?" He looked up at her pleadingly. "Promise me that you'll never leave?" She laughed, and scooped him into another hug. He held her tightly, as if he'd never let go. "'Course I won't. Because..." She moved to face him and grinned his favorite grin. Very hesitantly, and blushing heavily-how it should have...should be, he thought, no rush or pain-Rose said the only thing the Time Lord would have burned up suns to hear. "Doctor...my Doctor...I love you." He looked into her eyes, trying to convey all of the emotion he could with them because he knew his voice alone would never be sufficient for how he felt for his little pink and yellow human shopgirl. "Rose Tyler..." The name on his tongue was the most beautiful music ever sung. He smiled her favorite hundred watt smile, and took a deep breath for those three little words...the most important words he'd ever say...

The Doctor woke with a start, unsure at first where he was. Where was Rose? Where was the grass? Why didn't the air feel right? He looked around, and slowly, as his dark, lonely bedroom registered, he remembered. He looked down at his disheveled brown suit, at the tightly balled up covers in his left hand, at the small, insignificant looking blue and purple jacket clutched in his right, and he felt tears well up again. He began to shake, hard, staring at it. The pain of losing her was fresh all over again, all the good Donna had done for him destroyed by one moment of weakness from his subconcious. Her face was still fresh in his mind, smiling, blushing, happy and carefree, her voice still saying those words in that beautiful London accent. He brought the jacket up to his face, holding it with both hands now, and gently rubbed the soft fabric across his cheek. It still smelled like her. Faint floral perfume, and her shampoo.

He broke down, sobbing and rocking, and stayed on his bed, wishing the world away, calling in vain for his Rose, cursing himself for ever pausing before saying those cruel words. Every room in the whole TARDIS echoed with his screams and sobs. They almost seemed strongest and most heartbroken in one partricular, empty little pink room.

Far away, in a little pink room, a pink and yellow human shopgirl screamed awake, crying, begging him to say it, please say it. She slowly stopped screaming, and cried silently, a small silver key on a chain clutched in her right hand, hugged close to her chest. It was all she had left of him. She could still see his face fresh in her mind, smiling, blushing, goofy and nervous enough to be a teenage human boy, still hear his voice shyly calling her beautiful in a wedding gown. It had been a dream. But of course, this dream, though especially vivid tonight,was not unusual for her.

An Eternity In Hell (In Space With Markiplier Drabble)

The darkness had stopped eating at him ages ago. He didn’t have a time. There wasn’t really time anymore. Days didn’t start and they didn’t end. There was no morning, no coffee, no evening, no sleep.

He was getting close to being finished. He knew they would be here soon, and that the moment would finally arrive. All the times - the only time, again and again - that he’d seen them arrive. Called out to them only to see their shocked expression melt into nothingness and blue light. Every time - the only time - they were gone in an instant.

He’d been desperate to leave at first. Clawing at the door and banging away at the controls, pulling at panels and, every single time they arrived, he’d jolt toward them, desperate to pull them close and have some kind of comfort again. But still, every time, they slipped out of his reach, and he’d be alone again.

After a while, he ended up curled up in one of the corners. He was utterly alone, and he couldn’t make himself see why he should bother getting up. Moving. He didn’t eat. He didn’t sleep. He didn’t feel like he was aging. He didn’t feel anything at all but the endless exhaustion and terror, the cold floors.

He ran through every endless life then. Every death - jettisoned, suffocated, shot, frozen, burned alive, detonated, stretched beyond physical limitations, eaten, smashed - all of them played out over and over and over again. Sometimes he could feel his bones, old and brittle, and the slowing of his movements. He could see a cafe at the end of everything, getting darker and emptier as the stars around it winked into blackness. 

Every single time, they were there. They led the charge. They send him into danger. They met him at the table. 

They decided. Time after time after time after time, for all time, they decided. 

And it all ended in misery. 

No more. 

He moved, finally. He stood, and pulled panels from the walls. Pulled circuits. Found the emergency tool stash and started building. Rewired the controls to feed into the central hub. Crafted the designs from memory, painstakingly, with aching hands that never got any rest. 

Still they showed up. Again and again, and every time, he had to stop and look. Had to call out. He couldn’t help himself. He built three soaring spires and connected them, used them as a focus and a kind of closed circuit to create a layer of shielding and containment. 

Finally it was done. It had power. It ran and its diagnostics, programmed from scratch, came through at 100% capacity. It was ready.

And there they were, right on schedule. He felt nothing and everything at once as he calmly pulled the extinguisher from the wall and took aim. 

“Hi, Captain.”

Ohhhh FUCK I was NOT ready for that “01″ at the start of the timer today.

Current theory: 

A tulpa, which is a thought form. It’s something created by thoughts, stories, and ideas. As we all know, an idea is hard to kill, and it’s ever changing, never solid, hence the glitching. It also explains why Anti only seems to be physical on recordings, or when he’s possessing Jack. 

(Today’s video I’m counting as happening inside coma!Jack’s head.)

Okay but for real???? I wanna know what the actual fuck Anti is

My favorite part of a character like Anti is the fact that he’s legitimately scary and strange. I love to theorize about him and to wait on the edge of my seat, analyzing videos frame by frame, never knowing when he’s going to show up next, what he’s going to do, and it still makes me nervous every time.

But I also love the silly little memes and gifs that happen between times, the stuff that I know is not canon to his character, just because it’s fun. Those are side things, fun stuff from the community side that’s not meant to be taken seriously. That in no way detracts from the love I have for the actual, legitimately terrifying, psychopathic virus that is Anti.

Whatever you want to do with your character, Jack, is fine by me. I love seeing him, and I love watching what you do. Your acting is incredible and Robin’s editing is top notch, and everything you’ve done so far has been super fun. I love how seriously you take his character and I love how seriously you take your community and your love for them. <3

@therealjacksepticeye

I have to find Anti scary, I write him, and it’s always more fun to write someone truly evil or twisted.

This needs to be said

I do take anti seriously I really do I get spooked when he shows up and I enjoy it. I love this super serious theory’s about anti that are paragraphs long I live for that kind of stuff. But I also enjoy the anti memes that we as a community make like glitch bitch. Jack I’m sorry that it seems like no ones taking anti seriously anymore but we are and we still love him

So I hear we’ve got a new teaser image....

What are you up to, Sean?

Insteresting.

Won’t be played for a fool… not again…

Leather.

Pairing: 9/Rose, 10/Rose

Rating: G

He found it while cleaning up. Just busying himself while Rose was asleep, really, tidying the wardrobe room. Which of course the TARDIS hated, he was taking things out of the nice order she'd put them in, but he loved it! He'd forget how much brilliant stuff was in there if he never cleaned up. So this was something he did while Rose was out for hours and hours.

And he'd find things like his jacket.

His leather jacket.

Oh, the memories he had of this thing. He held it up to his nose and smiled as the strangely still familiar scent hit him. Old leather, his old cologne, bananas...

This was the jacket he'd worn coming out of the War. If he tried hard enough, he was sure he'd find bloodstains on it. He wasn't going to try. This was the jacket he'd grieved in, he'd roamed in, homeless, for years and years. This was the jacket that said, "Keep away!" if the rough accent and tough, if daft, old face didn't scare you off first.

This was the jacket he'd met Rose in. This was the jacket she'd clung to and hugged tight and slapped when he was being stupid. This was the jacket she'd given a new meaning to, the old traveler's jacket instead of the warding he'd worn. This was the jacket that'd kept her warm on several occasions, that'd been used as a seat for picnics on bright hillsides all over the universe, that'd been their umbrella in blue rain and a shield from the wind and shimmering sand of some planet he'd long forgotten the name of.

This was the jacket that still felt like the Vortex, just a little bit, and still smelled a little bit like smoke, and Hypervodka, and Slitheen slime, and the perfume in Satellite Five's game rooms.

This jacket didn't fit him now. And he didn't mean physically, though of course it didn't fit him physically either. But it did fit someone.

He wandered up to Rose's door, and held up a hand to knock, still looking at the jacket. Deciding against it, he simply folded it and set it outside, then reached into his pocket, drew out a notepad and a pen, and scribbled something before ripping it off and setting it in the pocket. He put away the notepad, straightened his jacket and tie, and meandered off down the hall, whistling an old song he'd danced to once.

Rose found the jacket a few hours later, and read, through slightly teary eyes,

For those planets with a North. Let's see them all.

-Big Nose's Daft New Face