please write “ten is not the ultimate doctor and he contradicted previous incarnations as well so stop giving eleven ridiculous standards and expectations to live up to because it’s literally impossible and no doctor has ever been perfectly consistent” on my grave
Look, I made a gif of this most awesome wizard at the Leaky Cauldron!
DUDE IS READING ‘A BRIEF HISTORY OF TIME’ BY STEPHEN HAWKING
I NEVER REALIZED
are you serious
I always assumed wizards just ignored science, because the fact that “magic” exists, can explain anything. But there are MuggleBorn wizards, ones who, until they were eleven, lived in the real world and learned science and things. Did they all just abandon that normal, muggle knowledge, like Harry did? It’s always been there, itching in the back of my mind.
FOUR FOR YOU SCIENCE WIZARD
YOU GO SCIENCE WIZARD
can we point out that he’s doing wandless magic too
like voldemort couldnt even do that shit
molly fuckin weasley couldnt fuckin do that
who are you
Quick, somebody write a book series about the adventures of Magic Prodigy Science Wizard!!!
PLEASE SOMEONE JUST DO IT
Alan Baker had no use for wands, of course. If one were to Prior Incantato his outdated, duct-taped rod of walnut wood and dragon heartstring, its most recent use would have been the enchantment of the long-lived neurons in Alan’s own mind. This enchantment, possible only for those who were capable of seeing themselves as a complex amalgamation of neural impulses, allowed him to bypass both wands and words. Alan did this, not for show, not for power, but because wandwork distracted him from his reading.
Unfortunately, there was no legal spell to get rid of barflies.
“Hey- hey mate, you gotta- gotta minute to-“
Sobrius, Alan thought, placing one hand on his neighbor’s forehead without looking up. He pondered whether or not to cast a silencing barrier, even in violation of the Leaky Cauldron’s safety code.
“Thanks,” said the now-sober man, “Readin’ more of that Muggle trash, I see.”
Alan closed his eyes and counted to three, but when he opened them, the man was still there. Alan lowered his “muggle trash” in defeat, meeting the baggy, bloodshot eyes of the wizard sitting across from him.
Alan leaned forward, placing his hands steeple-like on the table. “Mr. Fletcher, do you know why time turners don’t send you into space?”
“The sky, y’mean? Cause they’re fer time turnin’, not apparation.”
Alan had to take a deep breath. “No,” he replied, “If time turners weren’t anchored to anything, the Earth’s rotation alone would be enough to ensure a time traveler’s demise. But someone at the ministry was clever enough to anchor them to a carefully guarded object that never moves relative to the Earth.”
“Fascinat’n,” slurred Mundungus, whose eyes had glazed over once it became clear that Alan didn’t actually have a time turner on him.
“But time turners are still very limited,” continued Alan, more to himself than to Mundungus, “They can’t go more than seven hours back, and not forward at all, and only in increments of one hour, and they only work on Earth… no, they’re very clumsy, if one truly pauses to think about it.”
“What’s yer point?”
“My point is that while wizards are slowly stagnating in their backwards remnant of the Dark Ages, Muggles are making progress, ever reaching for the light. Do you know that they don’t need magic to craft a hand of living silver?”
“Bah,” was Mundungus’s only reply, “You’d be best mates with that Weasley nutcase at the ministry, you would.”
Alan stood up, silently casting an infantes gelata to check for paradoxes. “I don’t know why I bother with you,” he sighed, “you’ve just wasted another two minutes of my time. Perhaps I bother because I have time to waste.”
And he twisted, as if to apparate, but instead faded out of existence with a distinct vworp. The air swirled in the wake of his departure, blowing back Mundungus’s straggly ginger hair.
“Muggleborns,” the short wizard muttered, then turned back to his drink.
••••••••
Thirty minutes earlier, Alan lounged contentedly within his quieting barrier, stirring his cup of tea absently and rereading one of his favourite Muggle books. He wondered, vaguely, which planet held the nearest sapient life, and what their magic would look like…
This rereading, however, would be slightly shorter than the last. Even within the barrier, the presence of another at the table tickled at Alan’s consciousness. He set down his book (rather forcefully, he had to admit,) and looked up. The bloodshot eyes of Mundungus Fletcher didn’t meet him when his own rose.
“Hello,” mouthed the man. Finite Incantatum, thought Alan.
“Hello,” he answered, “Can I help you?”
“No, not really. Well, maybe. Well, probably. Have you seen anything strange lately? Disappearing cats, people moving backwards, variances in the time vortex causing precise and intentional reversal of the course of events?”
Alan couldn’t help but stare. “Er…now that you mention it, I was just…” he trailed off as he glanced out the window and did a double take. There was a 1960s-style Muggle police telephone box in the middle of Diagon Alley. “…Is…is that a telephone box?”
“No. Yes. Recreation. Mock-up. Don’t worry, nobody will notice,” the man said, waving his hand dismissively even as he pulled on a pair of what appeared to be cheap 3-D glasses. “What I want to know,” he murmured conspiratorially, “is what’s giving you that floaty, aurary, bizarrey stuff all over you, because that should not be happening to a human. Person. I said person”
Alan’s eyebrows furrowed. “First of all, this is Diagon Alley. Most people out there wouldn’t know a police box from a pillbox, especially given it’s bright blue. Second of all, those glasses shouldn’t give you the ability to see what you’re seeing. And thirdly, Expelliarmus.”
“Expelliwhat?” the man squawked, just as a long, chunky metallic object with a blue tip shot out of his jacket pocket and into Alan’s hand. A quick Identification spell told him all he needed to know.
“Fuzzy logic neural interface configured for ease of use, limited nonverbal manipulation of mechanical and electronic objects…Interesting. And leaps and bounds beyond anything wizards or Muggles can conjure up. What are you?”
The man stared at him for a few minutes before breaking out in a wide smile. “Hello. I’m the Doctor. Let me tell you a little bit about the universe…”
IT GOT BETTER
I am done, this is the end of the world, it’s all downhill from here
Oooooo, I like!
This is why we fandom.
Under Moffat’s watch the Doctor has morphed from an alien who loves humans and feels their pain and experiences love and desire and empathy to a stunted, child-like and extremely bloody irritating space-goon who flaps about like an injured moth when other people’s emotions are making him uncomfortable. And makes sexist jokes about how women are scary. And wants his married companions to sleep in bunk beds. And can save human lives but does not seem to understand human feelings. Who would travel with this man? He might be zany and charming and have nice boots, but he is fundamentally cold and unrelatable.
“
| — | x (via draculemihawks) |
Well, that’s one mystery solved (Timelash).
o.O
I don’t know why people are always so surprised, Moffat may have some flaws, but he’s brilliant when it comes to things like this.
Plot twist: The next companion is a normal girl/boy who only dies once in their lifetime and has no remarkable back story but he thinks they’re wonderful because they are human and the Doctor needs reminding that you don’t need to be a mystery to be remarkable.
#and the doctor never has to kiss them or sexualize them at all #in fact they are not even attracted to the doctor
so basically we want Donna back
Nine: Let the Tardis die. Just let this old box gather dust. No one can open it. No one'll even notice it. Let it become a strange little thing standing on a street corner. And over the years, the world'll move on and the box will be buried.
Moffat: jk when the doctor dies it becomes a fucking enormous tomb like a billion feet high police box because all the dimensions will leak out of it
Who Else
I firmly believe that, as he doesn’t deserve the title of The Doctor, John Hurt’s regeneration (wherever it actually falls) should be hereby be referred to as Who Else.
Because that’s what the Doctor saw, and said, when faced with his greatest fear. “Of course. Who Else?”
I second this full-heartedlyI THIRD this both-heartedly!
I kind of actually like this.
*crosses fingers* Valeyard Valeyard Valeyard
Boy records interview with his future self in 1992 and has a conversation with himself in 2012
I expected to watch this and shed a nostalgic tear, instead I cried tears of laughter.
i watched this like five times yesterday because its amazing
this is pretty hilarious lmao
I’m three weeks behind on Doctor Who and I can’t find the incentive to watch it
I don’t understand this
I’ve been enjoying GLEE more than DW. Do you know how sad it is that I prefer Glee to Doctor Who? That’s not a thing. Doctor Who should never be worse than Glee, even at its worst.
(Of course, this may be because unlike most people I actually like the new kids. I think it’s the Skins influence. I’m ready for the show to move on, and I like Kitty and Marley and Unique and Jake and Ryder.)
My sister is pregnant, and told me today that if she has a boy, she doesn’t mind if I show him Doctor Who.
But if it’s a girl, she doesn’t want me to.
Reblog to help me show her that: first, it will be the kid’s choice if she/he likes it; and second that girls can be hard Whovians and it’s not just a “boys universe”.
SHE SAID WHAT?
Fanvids that need to be made (or made again and again and over again):
- Angry Angel - Imogen Heap —> Supernatural
- Lily - Kate Bush —> Supernatural
- Dance Hall Drug - Boys Like Girls —> Labyrinth
- The Reeling - Passion Pit —> Gurren Lagann
- Earth - Imogen Heap —> Doctor Who
- Deal with God - Kate Bush —> FF XIII
- Who’d have known - Lily Allen —> Doctor Who (Craig and Sophie)
- So Sweet - Maria Mena —> Doctor Who (Amy)
- Wolf and I - Oh Land —> Doctor Who (Doctor/Rose)
- Historia Crux - Mitsuto Suzuki feat. Origa —> Doctor Who
- Hand of Sorrow - Within Temptation —> Star Wars (Skywalkers)
- Versions of Violence - Alanis Morissette —> Homestuck (trolls)
- Til Kingdom Come - Coldplay —> Supernatural
- Schoolyard Crush - Ever We Fall —> FFXIII (-2)
- All Around Me - Flyleaf —> anything that is shipping. what a good.
- Takes 2 to Tango - Jari Silanpaa —> I dunno but SOMETHING
- Handlebars - Flobots —> FFVII
I prefer Hand of Sorrow for River Song, but that’s because I was really into that album during a couple huge DW/TW times in my life, so everything on it has some connection, however slight.
- The Howling — Daleks vs. Time Lords, especially during and post-Time War
- What Have You Done — Doctor/Master (Or Doctor<3<Master :P). With Keith Caputo as the Doctor (particularly Ten) and Sharon den Adel as the Master (particularly Simms).
- Frozen — Owen. Basically just because he is dead and it’s a simple metaphor.
But OMG now that song is so Mickey Milkovish that it hurts fuck. - Our Solemn Hour — The back six of Series 4/Season 30a. Season 4 in general, but those six episodes really build the tension up to Journey’s End.
- The Heart of Everything — The Doctor as Time Lord Victorious.
- Hand of Sorrow — River Song. Taken by the Silence, trained to kill the Doctor, ends up marrying him, but their relationship is always a bit tense and filled with sorrow/distrust.
- The Cross — Captain Jack Harkness, pissed at the way the Doctor keeps treating him.
- Final Destination — Rose and/or Donna in the back six of Series 4/Season 30a. (Can you tell when I listened the most to this album?)
- All I Need — Ianto trying to trust Jack after Lisa. (Technically it could work either way but the sheer empty desperation is completely Ianto.)
- The Truth Beneath the Rose — Martha Jones leaving the Doctor. Alternately: The Doctor contemplating his dual nature as Cosmic Nine-Year-Old and The Oncoming Storm
- Forgiven — Jack thinking about Ianto post CoE.
Oh my Merlin I fucking love this Album. I need to blast Symphonic Metal all day tomorrow.
