so we did a secret santa at work today and my 49-year-old child of a boss made me this, a picture of the impala on a metal frame and i was like wat
and there was an envelope attached to it which contained
these f*cking magnets that she made so you can create lil scenes next to the impala bUT THAT’S NOT ALL
SHE INCLUDED COSTUMES YOU CAN PUT ON THEM
AND PROPS LIKE GUNS AND SALT AND HOLY WATER AND EVEN AN EMF THINGY
SHE EVEN MADE BEER AND BURGERS AND FRIES
MERRY F*CKING CHRISTMAS
As I’ve said yesterday, I like to keep personal things personal. That being said, I’ve recently come across some posts about a terrible rumor that I would like to address, because I know how fast things like that spread on this website, and this is making me really sad and mad at the same time.
Read mored, I apologize deeply if you are on mobile.
I think we need to discuss the TARDIS telling her side of Eleven’s story in The Doctor: His Lives and Times, because this is definitely the most gorgeous piece of writing ever to come out of DW:
"He’s a pretty little thing, my lost little thief, don’t you think?
Oh, I know what you’ll say. But just look at him — he’s taller on the inside than the outside, and, as an idea, my Doctor goes from the beginnings of the universe to its very end.
Is this one my favourite thief? Unfair! They are nearly all my favourites, with their bright little eyes and strange pelts and their endearing habits. He requires regular walks, a lot of fuss, and somewhere warm to come back to. When I am travelling very fast, he would like me to wind the window down so that he could stick his head out. But I do not have a window.
This thief got himself in a terrible muddle. It began when he found that first impossible girl. Her name was Ameliapond and she was going to get married to the Pretty One ten years later but there was a crack in her wall. The Doctor left her for five minutes — he had just regenerated and wanted a sit down. I’m always sad for him at that moment, and wish I could comfort him more. He gets so miserable about one thing being over and excited about another thing beginning. This is not just true about bodies; it is the same with planets. I let him down then — I was still re/pairing/growing/decorating so we missed Ameliapond first time around and then she had to come with us as there was something wrong with her world.
The thing that was wrong with her world was me.
Blue Water Box. What was it called? Swimming pool. Ah yes, I had made it nicely. I miss the swimming pool. Ripples going out in all directions when he fell into it. I tried to soften his fall with those lovely cushiony things. What are they called? Cushions? No, books. Where am I?
My thief learned that, one day, I would explode. Something would make this happen (I know what causes it, of course I do). And tomorrow, yesterday, neverday, the whole universe would end — big explosion, cracks back through time. Cracks split open, universe all eaten up, worried Thief…
End of. Happens sometimes. We go down a route and there’s a dead end. Somehow we reverse and continue — time is just a maze that’s being shaken shaken shaken always. But one of my stories ended there — I was the last thing left in a universe I had destroyed. I was the full stop to that existence.
But then BANGZAP we were off again because Thief had a wedding to dance at. And dancing faster was River Song. I could smell what she was — she came from me. Once, I taught her how to fly. And once I let her die. Once she loved me. Once she shot me. I could see that all at the same time. I liked her, I mothered her. One day I would like to teach her to wheezegroan without me. But the Doctor danced and River danced, and the more they danced the more trouble grew around them. Something wanted Thief because they hated Thief. They stole River’s mother, they stole River — they made it all so tangled. Thief and River were looped around each other like wool. He had a scarf once. Long scarf. It smelled of lavender and aluminium. I liked that scarf. It looked good in loops. And sometimes good stories are loops.
Thief became worried — he had travelled for so long that there were so many stories about him and the stories were scarf-loops and as they crossed they became confused and he was not always the hunted and the pattern ran in the water. Everyone was out to get Thief and they made River do it, drawing her to his end. But she did not do it and
The story picked up again. But this time Thief had shaken himself out of the universe. There was no Doctor in it. Even shiny metal dodgem-smell Daleks could not sniff him out. Yet he knew that this was not a happy ending to the story. Just a comma before another full stop. Thief belongs in the universe and he cannot stay out of it more much longer. (I have seen what happens in the Sad Field. It answers so many questions. Which is why IT IS FORBIDDEN.)
He does not ask how it feels to be alone. Because he knows. Sometimes he gets scared. He always has his little strays. They stay such a short time, I wonder he names them. But when they go it always hurts him. More every time. (He used not to notice. Smell of diesel fumes and sunshine. Dodo sends him her love. He blinks in surprise.)
Now he is lonely. They grow up, they grow old, they go away, sometimes they die. But he moves on. Swimming pools come and go. I make him nicer ones, in case, one day, he comes to see them. But he does not. He keeps his head above water.
He does not want his name any more, but he cannot live without it. He knows the end is coming. He has a new little friend and she is a mystery so big inside. I DON’T LIKE HOW SHE SMELLS.
She wants to know all about him. But she is wrong. I do not like her. She’s making a very big mistake. She doesn’t know where she is. She is everywhere and nowhere. I don’t like her inside me. Walking over my grave. Asking questions. You cannot make a souffle without breaking things. Round things that leak. Which came first — the girl or the box?
They all say the same things to him. All those pets. They’ve done it since I first let him come inside. They always ask him. Doctor who? He never tells them. Which is a shame. As I would like to know. Just to make sure of my Thief. I have my suspicions. As though someone is standing looking over my shoulder. Which is ridiculous, as I do not have shoulders. I look away, I look back. I miss something out of the corner of my Eye of Harmony.
And my Thief stands there, surrounded by himself but so very alone. For now he knows the day is coming when he must answer the question the universe has always been asking him since the very beginning. He wants to go to the one place he cannot. The place I cannot let him go. Where I become so big and he becomes so small. But he wants to go. She makes him. I was right about her.
It is an end. But this end is not a full stop. It is a question mark.”