The credited cast of “The Five(ish) Doctors Reboot" and their connection to Doctor Who.
In case you wanted to know all the cameos. Accurate only to the best of my knowledge, which is hopefully good enough.
Also this guy keeps popping up, but I don’t know his name, I just know he runs the difficult DW pub quiz in Cardiff, which he also did at the 50th Celebration. (I won one of them, by the way, have a certificate and all.)
You forgot the old lady who does gardening but I reckon she’s Colin Baker’s wife?
Well damnit, I actually left out a whole page that didn’t get saved properly. I’ve added it to the original post but it’s probably too late now.
- sexual orientation: Rose Tyler biting her lip
"Think about me when you’re living your life one day after another, all in a neat pattern. Think about the homeless traveller and his old police box, with his days like crazy paving."
Project completion! This is the longest personal project I’ve done.
Shout out to Big Finish, the audios really fuelled me through this.
There’s nothing I can say about my wife that doesn’t sound cheesy. She isn’t perfect. She’s better than that. She’s vulnerable when she needs to be. She’s strong when she had to be. I love her more than anything in the world. I love just having her there so I can sit and watch.
isilienelenihin asked: For all his protestations of 'superior biology' and 'really, Rose, it's no use--I'll just metabolize it,' the Doctor is drunk as a Lord.
He’s not altogether quite as attractive as usual this way—he smells like beer and his cheeks are all flushed, but the way he’s looking at her has her pulse skipping, has her wearing a blush of her own.
"I’m cuttin’ you off, Doctor," she says no-nonsense-like, and he pouts, just a little. (The little ones are easy to resist. It’s when he pulls out all the stops that she really has trouble.)
"Barely getting started." He nudges the empty bottle across the countertop toward her with his index finger, but she makes no move to provide him with another one like she did earlier. Instead, she provides him with a raised eyebrow, and he accepts defeat. "All right, Roooose Tylah. If there’s no more drinking, there should at least be dancing.”
He slides off the barstool and only wobbles a little.
"You still sober enough for that?" She laughs despite trying not to, takes his hand when he offers it to her, and it’s silly, how easily they fall in together, and it’s not right that he should sway so smoothly, completely unfair that sharing a slow-dance with a judgmentally impaired Doctor should still feel so good and so right.
She nestles in, resting her cheek on his shoulder, her nose against his neck. He hums, and it’s a good sound, a happy sound; his hand is warm and sure on her lower back, thumb stroking, knuckles gently, so gently tracing the ridges of her spine.
It’s two and a half songs in when he asks out of the blue, “Have I kissed you yet?”
She thinks her heart stops beating momentarily.
"What?" She lifts her head, puts a little bit of distance between them so she can look him in the eye. He’s bleary, all right, but he’s frowning, looking genuinely concerned and definitely focused, right on her. He’s searching her face, his hands are tender and gentle on her shoulders, and her voice wobbles a bit when she answers. "Doctor?"
"Have I? I haven’t, have I?" His frown deepens. "Always afraid I’m gonna do it without thinking. Well. Not without thinking. Think about that a lot, actually—"
"I mean I’m always afraid I’m gonna do it without all the pomp and circumstance," he says—quickly, as if he had some gaffe to recover from. "Always thought you’d like that, the pomp and circumstance."
"With us it’s always been pomp and circumstance and no kissing," she says, and she tries to keep the irony out of her voice but it’s there, it’s there, it’s a roll of the eyes without actually rolling her eyes, and then they’re both giggling like idiots.
"Could fix that," he says, and he’s so close he could kiss her forehead, or the bridge of her nose, or her mouth with no trouble at all. Or she could kiss him. And his hands come up and his thumbs are light over the curves of her cheeks, his fingertips rubbing gently against her hair, and he presses his forehead against hers and oh, oh, Doctor. “I could, Rose. If you wanted.”
"Yeah," she hears herself say, and she’s hard-pressed to think of anything she wants more—but takes his hands in hers and steps back, steps away. "But not like this. Some other time, when you’re in your right mind, okay?"
"I’m absolutely in my right mind!" he sniffs.
"You might be sure of that," she says, and she hears her voice waver, but this feels right, absolutely right. "But I need to be, too."