Hello! My name is Will, I'm a 22 year old British chemistry student, and this is a multi-fandom mess of a blog.
Oh, what a typo hath wrought.
I AM THE BAD WILF. I CREATE MY HAT. I TAKE THE ANTLERS. I PUT THEM ON…MY HEAD…FOR CHRISTMAS
A “classic DW moment” one-pager I made for a fanzine project (unfortunately the zine ended up not being printed). The very first appearance of the terrifying toilet plungers, I mean pepper shakers, I mean Daleks!
30 Days of Doctor Who (Classic Series) → Day 1: Favorite Regeneration of the Doctor↳Seventh Doctor
character growth [slides to the left] character conflict [slides to the right] character development [criss crosses] characters showing that they’re flawed and have weaknesses and emotions [cha chas real smooth]
The Doctor was leaning on the TARDIS console, gripping it
tightly enough that his knuckles were white with the strain.
‘So what? Okay, I might not be able to regenerate twelve
times. Eleven, ten maybe. Who cares?’
‘Why? Look at the scanner Mel, look at that. All those stars
and worlds and races and civilisations. They could all have gone
the way of poor Professor Tungard if I’d not stopped it. As
sacrifices go, I could afford it and I truly believe it was worth it.’
Mel was at his side. She placed a hand on his and drew it
‘Doctor, you’re ice cold. I mean, absolutely frozen.’
‘Really? Can’t feel it myself.’ His gaze was still on the scanner.
‘Mel, can you press that blue switch please.’
‘Because I asked nicely?’
Mel did as she was told and instantly the TARDIS roared into
life, the central column rising and falling as they left Carsus for
what she hoped would be the last time.
A few seconds later, it stopped and the scanner just showed
space again. Mel frowned but the Doctor smiled, albeit weakly.
‘Hover mode. I just want to look one last time at the local
‘One… last… what d’you mean, one last time?’
The Doctor finally pried his hands away from the console,
trying to work the fingers but to no avail. He stared straight at
Mel and she suddenly realised she was facing not a man in his
mid-forties as he normally appeared, but a tired, drained man,
who just this once she could believe was 900-plus years. His blue
eyes were grey, the crow’s feet more pronounced and his hair
had a few grey roots and curls, especially at the temples.
‘We did good, Mel. I’m honoured to have had you at my side
one last time.’
And he fell to the floor with a loud crump.
Mel was at his side in a second, resting his head on her lap,
massaging his temples.’C’mon Doctor, no time to be sleeping.’
She looked up at the scanner.
All those stars, still twinkling.
All the planets still revolving.
All the life that owed its continued existence to a man, a
wonderful, brave man it had never known.
Might never know.
She realised she was crying and a tear dropped onto the
Doctor’s face. His skin was very grey now. His eyes flickered
open and he smiled tightly.
‘Don’t cry Mel. It was my time. Well, maybe not, but it was
my time to give. To donate. I’ve had a good innings you know,
seen and done a lot. Can’t complain this time. Don’t feel
Mel couldn’t understand what he was saying. He couldn’t be…
couldn’t be dying.
Had letting his chronon energy be absorbed to that degree
really destroyed him. Finally?
‘No…’ she whispered. It’s not fair!’
‘Yes. Yes it is…’ she heard him say, but the words seemed to
be in her head rather than coming from his closed mouth.
She suddenly found herself remembering their initial meeting
in Brighton. An initial enmity that had given way to respect,
admiration and finally a great enough affection that she had
given it all up to join him aboard the TARDIS. To travel the
The TARDIS lights seemed to have dimmed a fraction, as if
it… as if she knew. Understood.
Gary Russell, “Spiral Scratch”
With the impending regeneration of Matt Smith, I’d like to remind everyone that the Sixth Doctor’s last words in canon were in fact not “Carrot juice, carrot juice, carrot juice.”
“Remus Dobby Potter, you were named after the two people who actually gave a shit about my well being. One of them was a house elf and I’d much rather see you become that than a fucking Slytherin. Don’t come back unless you’re wearing red and gold you little shit.”
So, I’m brushing my teeth while wearing my super awesome NASA shirt when I suddenly noticed something.
YOU CLEVER BASTARDS.
Seriously, how have I reached the age of 23 without noticing this??
It’s even more obvious in other versions of the Starfleet logo.
I mean, damn.
Please tell me I wasn’t the only one.