#the prophet and the oncoming storm au

[ofpineapplesanddawns]

Fuck it, let’s write some angsty Doctor/Malcolm content, bad ending style.

Warning: sad Doctor is sad, spooky vine things, blood

On with the fic!

--

Malcolm was clear headed today, which the Doctor was taking full advantage of.

It was selfish, really, but the Doctor wanted to enjoy every minute of it before the Goddess completely took over, forever. This timeline would end when the Doctor figured out how to shift it in the right direction, there was no true fixed point for Malcolm’s story when it came to the events of... well...

But until the day that this timeline came to an end for the Doctor, when he had no reason to visit anymore, when he would devote himself wholly to fixing things so Malcolm continued to live with his mind intact... he’d follow this Malcolm around while he still had a mind of his own.

“You seem to be in a better mood.” Malcolm commented, careful as he walked through the forest, not wanting to trip over any roots or loose ground.

“Mmm, yeah, had a rather nice trip the other day. Went to this lovely little place called Cwrw.”

“Beer?” Malcolm looked at him funny.

“Oh, yes, it does share its name with the Welsh word for beer, didn’t even notice!” The Doctor laughed, trying to keep up some sort of joy in his tone, trying to ignore the constant melancholy that plagued him when around this Malcolm.

“Was it a nice visit?” Malcolm asked.

“Oh yeah, they were having a festival when I arrived! It’s their tri-yearly ‘Opening of the Flowers’ festival.” The Doctor replied. “But, when I say tri-yearly, I mean their native flowers open every three years and stay that way for three years. Then they die and it’s another three year wait. Wash, rinse, repeat.”

Malcolm nodded, long since used to the Doctor’s ramblings. As they walked, the Doctor saw flowers starting to bloom around Malcolm’s feet, a rainbow of beautiful blossoms trailing behind him.

He smiled a little. “Showoff.” He commented.

“It’s a nice feature of... whatever is happening to me.” 

The smile fell and the Doctor sighed, tugging at his ear. “Malcolm...”

“It’s alright, Doctor.” The prophet sighed. “I know what’s happening, obviously, and how short my time is becoming, but I’m still enjoying what I can out of my remaining days. After all, every song must end, yes?”

The Doctor felt a chill in his blood at those words. Malcolm didn’t know them, he didn’t know the effect those simple words had on the Doctor, and he never will, the last thing the Doctor wanted was for Malcolm to worry about him. Even if this timeline’s Malcolm’s life would come to an end soon.

“I still don’t like thinking about it.” The Doctor said instead, reaching out and taking Malcolm’s hand, mainly for comfort, to ground himself. And because he wanted to touch him, even just for a little bit.

Malcolm looked at their hands, intertwining their fingers. They walked on quietly, and the Doctor felt the vines and roots that hide under Malcolm’s sleeves poke and gently touch at his hand. He gave Malcolm a small squeeze, permission, and he winced at the small spike of pain as the plants broke the skin, getting blood.

“I can feed you with praise, you know this.” The Doctor mumbled.

“I know, but She’s gotten used to the blood as well. She wishes for both.” Malcolm frowned.

“I’ll still praise you, Malcolm.” The Doctor commented. “Only you, never her, only you get my love. She can have my blood, but only you get something better.”

The other man just smiled at him, a resigned look on his face, but there was love there as well. The Doctor was going to miss him so much when this was all over. 

[dikiyvter]

ARCHON AU. | The Beast King | The Hunters God | Venatores Dei Note: As with Gio’s archon au, I don’t feel it... ENTIRELY suiting to say that this version of Riga is 100% his modern counterpart, though they do share the same name ( or rather... nickname, I suppose ). 

       IN THE DISTANT PAST DID THE KING OF BEASTS ROAM THE NORTH. Abiding no laws and no masters but that of natures most primal command; The king of beasts, the hunters god, rode atop a bear of massive proportion alongside a pack of wild wolves and mutts loyal only to him. It was said that predators lowered their head in reverence of his presence; and that only the strongest of humans would find themselves blessed to join the never-ending hunt alongside him. 

       This was changed when Seire took to the north; Gathering en masse a blind, devoted, and fearful following, who sought little more than his prophecies of futures and fortunes; Of a city in the far north, in the land that knew nothing but storm, where they would be free of outside tyrannies, safe to live out the oncoming war. Though at first the King of Beasts took no interest in the false-prophet nor his city of ice, the two gods came to blows when it was discovered that, rather than truly befell the storm across the land-- Seire would do no more than create a safe haven within it, spreading the storms effects and creating a barrier of uninhabitable tundra drenched beneath the permafrost of an eternal blizzard. 

       With his territory threatened did the two gods come to blows; And though the small God of Snowstorms would stand no chance against the might of the Hunters God-- Ultimately was he forced to recede from the battleground, as the members of his pack were picked one-by-one by metal claw, heavy snowfall, and winds that bit harsher than the most rabid of wolves. By the time the King had safely led his pack away from the oncoming storm that would overtake their home-- their numbers had dwindled terribly, and continued to do so as they traveled further and further in search of new territory to make their own. 

       Long since have the humans of his pack died out- to illness, starvation, metal claws and teeth wielded by their own kind, the wrath of gods not seeking to permit safe passage of a wanderer and his people. Forced further and further south did their numbers dwindle further as creatures of the arctic were forced to fall behind, lest they otherwise succumb to a climate inhospitable to them. Now, all that remains of the King’s pack is his mount, a massive white bear of the north, and several wolves. 

       With no people to protect, and nothing but his vengeance in mind, does the King of Beast continue to roam Teyvat; Moving from one place to the next on his eternal hunt, not for territory nor for prey itself, but rather for an opening-- a chance to return to the north and reclaim the land that is rightfully his own from the tyrant that has overtaken it. 

NOTES:

       - Though the beast king has a given name, it is... merely a series of growls and grunts. The God of the Forge has granted him the nickname ‘Riga’, as it is the closest human approximation to what his ‘name’ sounds like. Otherwise, most simply call him ‘The Hunters God’ , ‘The Beast King’-- Though merely ‘King’, ‘Beast’, or ‘Hunter’ are equally appropriate names that he will respond to. 

       - He does still take humans into his pack, should they be strong enough and should they be willing. Strength, of course, means little to him once you are actually a part of his pack; For he will never abandon his pack members, nor seek to put them in harms way for his own gain. 

       - Contrary to his modern counterpart, The Beast King has no issues around animals-- in fact, he himself is at times far more animal than human. He communicates with them with ease and clarity- far more than he can with humans, truly. This is why the bulk of his pack will nearly always be animals. 

       - The Beast King exhibits several inhuman traits-- including being quite tall ( 7′3″, specifically ), growling when he speaks, being capable of purring, and ... generally being rather animalistic in his mannerisms and habits.

       - He is very, very, VERY old. He does not recall specifically how old he is, but tales of him have circulated for many thousands years prior to the archon war- meaning this fucker? Old as all goddamn. 

       - He wears a polar bear skull on his head incase anyone was wondering. It’s wrapped in rope, and the rope is adorned with teeth, antlers, bird feathers- trophies from some of his hunts. Aside from this he is adorned primarily in furs and leathers- all things he himself as hunted. 

       - He is missing one ear, as well as half of the pinkie on his left hand

       - In far older times, he was referred to as the god of stormclouds; This is a title that has fallen into obscurity in favor of labeling him god of the hunt; Though note that he does still wield electro-based powers, as... unrefined as they may be.

[ofpineapplesanddawns]

WAIT A MINUTE! 

In regards to the new Ten audio...!

I’ve got... an au... that works with it...

How the hell can I sit there with evil tree-based Ten on my mind and not be reminded of God!Malcolm from the alternate timeline in the Prophet and Oncoming Storm au!

Like, this version of Ten is infused with a forest, has control of it, drains life from his victims through it, is feared and in control of a village.

My dudes.

God!Malcolm and Ten can technically still be together... in this way. In a slightly alternate alt timeline... 

Two plant-based gods, together.

Alright, I’m done. 

[ofpineapplesanddawns]

Okay so, inspired by and following the other person's malcolm/doctor promt and where you went with that; slight au of whats his name protagonist being somewhere else, and the Doctor coming back to find Malcolm having taken up the mantle of the god, and the doc trying to see how much of his old definitely just friend is in there?

Wanna know what makes me very giddy about this prompt?

This is literally one of the ideas I had for the Doctor knowing of a Bad End for Malcolm in the au, that he's trying to prevent. :D

So, here we go! Malcolm is the new god instead of Thomas!

Warning: blood

On with the fic!

--

He was too late, oh, he was so very, very late.

The village was gone, burnt ruins, returning to nature. Any animals that survived seemed to just be wandering around, adapting to being free from their pens and living off the land without humans.

There was no sign of a living human anywhere that the Doctor could see, and that worried him greatly.

He searched the remains, and what builds still stood, even with the damage. There were no signs of human activity as of recently, except for what looked to be footprints in drying mud. So, someone had to be here, but where could they have gone?

He looked around the half-damaged home he was in, where one of the walls had collapsed. He knew this house, he had been here in a number of times, stayed a few nights, shared a bed with-

"Malcolm..." He whispered to himself, looking around. Was he here? It was clear that whoever had been here and moved around the house, muddy footprints were found on what remained of the floor, then led outside.

The Doctor followed the trail as best as he could, scanning the area with his screwdriver, trying to pick up readings. But it couldn't quite register a human signature, something was interfering with it.

"Come on, you blasted thing!" He said through clenched teeth, slapping the sonic. "It's not that hard to pick up on him, I've scanned him before, you know his signature!"

It had to be his, it was what he had been following, he knew it.

The Doctor soon lost sight of the prints, when the ground became covered in forest debris, drier, it was hard to find prints at all. He stopped and looked around, trying to figure out where he was, before glancing up.

He nearly shouted in alarm, but slapped a hand over his mouth instead.

The trees above him, there were...

Oh, oh, this was bad.

Yes, it was clear they had been up there for a long while, but just the fact that there were corpses up in trees like that still meant that things had gone horribly wrong here.

He had to find Malcolm.

The Doctor ran in the direction of where the barn was, he knew that could be a place that Malcolm could have gone to. Maybe he was with the goddess?

It was wishful thinking, he knew, but it was better than thinking the man was-

There!

He spotted something ahead, clearly another destroyed building, but it had been the barn! And there was someone sitting there, among the ruins, with a hat that the Doctor recognized.

He smiled, nearly calling out, but stopped himself. Something was wrong, so very wrong. He didn't know what it was, but he could sense it, even this far away. He slowed his steps to a walk and carefully made his way over, seeing the figure was seated with something in his hands.

Hands that were so pale, covered in bits of plant matter, the tips of his fingers splattered with dry mud and what looked like blood.

"Malcolm?" The Doctor asked, and the figure turned.

It felt like a heavy weight just dropped in the Doctor's stomach.

It was Malcolm, but he was so very wrong.

His eyes were wrong, like the goddess' own, his skin matching her ashen complexion. There was plant matter attached to him, looking like it was growing through tears in his clothing, including what was clearly a bullet hole. Clutched in the prophet's hands was a copy of his religious text, only slightly fire damaged, but covered in streaks of blood and mud.

A strange smile came to Malcolm's face as he looked at the Doctor, but it was clearly not from recognition.

"Malcolm, what happened to you?" The Doctor asked, kneeling next to him, gently taking the bible from his hands. He looked at the hands, seeing that his palms were covered in aging scars, clearly the work of blades.

He looked to Malcolm's face, then cupped a cheek. "Malcolm, it's me. The Doctor, do you recognize me? I'm your friend, your confidante, your..."

They had never given what they had a title, but it was something that they both needed, that much he knew.

Malcolm stared at him still, with eyes so wrong. He slowly tilted his head, resting on the hand that touched his cold skin. He made a strange clicking sound, a hiss, before he started to speak.

The voice was cracked, scratchy from not being used in so long, but the Doctor could understand him, unlike when he had encountered the goddess.

Have you come for salvation, child?

"No, no, I have not. I've come to see my friend."

There was no response, just more clicking.

The Doctor felt a tightness in his chest, a sting in his eyes as he moved closer, placing his free hand on Malcolm's lap. "It's me, please, you know me. I know you do, and I know you've got to be in there, come on, you can't be so corrupted. You were the smart one, you were the one who knew that this was wrong."

Even though you didn't stop... he thought, but ignored that.

He pressed his forehead against Malcolm's. "Don't you recognize me?"

Still, there was no response, he couldn't even tell if Malcolm was still in there. Had whatever force that lived here completely take him over, walking around in his body as a meat puppet until some other person could be the new vessel somewhere down the line?

He closed his eyes, trying not to let this upset him, he knew that something bad would come of all this. He had warned Malcolm time and time again that he had to stop, they had to leave, but the man was so damn stubborn. Why did humans always have to be like that?

The Doctor opened his eyes when something touched the hand, and he looked down, seeing Malcolm's own, gently squeezing it. He pulled back, staring at his friend's face. Malcolm stared back at him, before lifting his hand and placing it close to his mouth.

Dry lips kissed the back of it, eye contact not breaking, before he moved to kiss the palm. Then the prophet opened his mouth, just enough for him to start dragging his teeth against the skin.

He wanted blood.

The Doctor felt the tightness get worse, but that didn't stop him from digging around in his pocket for something, pulling out a small pocket knife, and made a small cut on his palm. Malcolm didn't latch onto the cut like the goddess had so many years ago.

No, he was hesitant, his eyes once more on the Doctor's face, as if silently asking permission.

"Just a small drink, please." The Doctor tried to smile, but he didn't feel like he should.

Malcolm licked the blood that pooled from the cut, before placing his lips to it, drinking from the wound.

Around them, grass and wild flowers bloomed to life, beautiful and lovely, as if spring were here on the island.

"I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry."

--

There is... something there, something like the Malcolm that the Doctor knows behind closed doors, but it's hard to tell.

*loudly sips coffee*

[ofpineapplesanddawns]

Prompt Sentences 2 & 19 for 10th doc/Malcolm (whether to go maximum angst potential of that combo up to you)?

2: “I just want to let you know that I love you. A lot. Never forget that.”

19: “What? No, I never said that…”

Hoo boy, what can I make outta these two!

On with the fic!

--

Visiting has become a bit less frequent over the years, not because the Doctor was avoiding Malcolm, it was just the TARDIS seemed wary about stopping on the island. She kept sending him back further and further into Malcolm's past on the island, as if she were avoiding keeping him closer to...

Well, to when the timeline of the prophet could go from bad to worst with one simple thing going wrong.

Still, she was kind enough to let him land now, it had to be a few years before hand, from what he could tell. 1902, yes, it seemed to be the year when he stepped out.

There was time, always time, to tell Malcolm to be careful. He'd probably wouldn't listen, that was normal, the basic song and dance of them and their complicated relationship.

The Doctor walked through the woods, before coming to the hidden trap door, to the barn.

Blood was in the air, old and fresh. It made the Doctor's stomach turn, made him sick. He heard voices from the barn, loud ones, shouts in Welsh. He slipped away, behind a tree, out of sight just as the doors opened to the bar and someone stormed out.

It was Malcolm, and he was clearly furious. He shouted at someone in the barn, the words fast, slurred in anger, the Doctor almost didn't catch them.

"It's better than what you're doing! It's better than what you suggested! I am Her voice! I do what I can in exchange for Her gift!"

He slammed the doors shut and limped towards the trap door. The Doctor watched him come to a stop a few feet from it before pinching the bridge of his nose, sighing loudly. "Damnit..." He said to nothing before looking up, in the direction of the Doctor.

The Doctor hadn't noticed he had slipped out from his small hiding spot. "Uh... hey, everything alright?"

Malcolm stared before shaking his head. "No, not at all. I'm sure you heard enough."

"Not really, just you being mad at someone. And talking about the goddess." The Doctor shrugged, stepping out completely, shuffling through the fallen leaves on the ground. "What's going on?"

The prophet looked like he wanted to talk about anything other than this topic. But he replied anyway. "My brothers and I are having... trouble communicating over what is proper when it comes to providing for Her."

"Blood letting not enough anymore?"

Malcolm's mouth was a thin line. That was enough of an answer for the Doctor. "Have you spoken with her?"

"She is vague on what She wants." Malcolm admitted. "And it's annoying, and worrisome. “

Then he glared at the Doctor, which caught the taller man off-guard. “Aren’t you going to tell me off? Tell me that I should find a better way of going about feeding the Goddess, about how it’s vitally important that I do something soon or else... some vague horror will fall upon me?”

“What? No, I never said that…” The Doctor frowned, taking a step back on instinct, why was the anger directed at him now. “Well, I mean, I’ve said things like that in the past, but I don’t think this has anything to do with that...”

It probably did, but best not to anger Malcolm more.

The human’s eyes were hard, but then he seemed to realize what he had said and he sighed, his expression softer, sadder. “I’m terribly sorry, Doctor, I... I’ve been having a rather difficult time lately.”

“Do you... want talk about it?”

“In private, I fear we are not quite alone out here.”

The Doctor looked towards the barn, there was a stronger sent of fresh blood in the air. His jaw tightened and he nodded, turning to help Malcolm down into the tunnel under their feet.

He slipped down after, following after the prophet. “When was I last here?”

“Four months ago, I believe.”

“You lot were doing fine, last I checked. Crops were good, animals were fine. Was the harvest well? It’s clearly getting closer to winter now.”

“It was a good harvest, but not nearly as much as we had in past years.” Malcolm sighed. “We lost a few goats, we still have no clue what killed them. I suspect... She might have done something, in a moment of clarity and freedom. She can do it, sometimes, but not often. My brothers and I have done our best to keep Her from doing that again.”

The Doctor frowned deeply, that’s probably making things worse, but he kept that to himself. “We’re thinking of taking more offerings from the people.” Malcolm spoke up, and the Doctor’s eyes widened.

“Have they...?”

“A few have willingly offered Her blood, knowing I’ve been doing it. Quinn and Frank are not keen on it, but She seems to be fine with it. We never take them to Her, we just get a bowl or a jar, an offering from a few people, once in a while, not daily or weekly.”

The Doctor cursed under his breath. “You’re thinking of increasing the donations.”

“It’s... an option. We have other ways of feeding Her.” The way Malcolm said it filled the Doctor with a cold dread, but he didn’t press. He didn’t... he knew what it could be, he was sure he knew.

“Just... keep your options open, more humane.”

“I think it is better that they are.” Malcolm replied as they got back to the church. “For mine and my people’s sake.”

They stood in the empty building now, with the Doctor looking at Malcolm. He looked tired, older than he should be. Every visit was bringing them closer to those events in 1905, where Malcolm would either die or live, or... there was the option of both at once.

There was so much the Doctor wanted to say, it was getting harder and harder not to just take his hands and beg him to join him on the TARDIS, to run away with him, off to the stars. But the Doctor knew better, he knew that Malcolm was a devoted leader to his people, that he did care deeply for his community.

And... it was better that the Doctor traveled alone, it might hurt worse if Malcolm traveled with him and something happened.

He stepped closer, about to say something, when he could hear it. It was faint, off in the distance, muffled by the walls of the church, but he knew that sound anywhere.

The cloister bell.

Damnit, he was needed, the TARDIS was warning him of something, he needed to go see what it was about.

“Is something wrong?” Malcolm asked. He stopped, frowning curiously. “I sense... that the Goddess is trying to alert me to something. A sound of distress?”

“It’s my TARDIS, she’s calling out to me, I need to return. The... she’s letting off the cloister bell, so something is happening that requires my attention.” He took Malcolm’s hand. “I’m sorry my visit is so short, and not at the best of times, but I’ll try to be back as soon as possible, if I can.”

“Then I best be patient for your arrival.” Malcolm replied, his smile small, sad, but knowing. This has been how it always been between them, the Doctor could never stay, Malcolm could never leave.

Still... 

The Doctor gave him a small kiss, he was torturing himself at this point, but he had been doing that for so long now, with so many people, Malcolm was just another ache in his chest that he could live with, just like Rose, Martha, Donna, so many others...

“I just want to let you know that I love you. A lot. Never forget that.” He said softly, then turned, taking his leave for the doors.

Maybe the cloister bell wasn’t for an emergency somewhere in the universe, maybe it was for him, for taking too many risks with this man.

[ofpineapplesanddawns]

Okay so this isn't from the list but uuuuh.... follow up to the very sad thing; after spending the rest of Malcolm’s time on Earth with him until the goddess takes over, Ten going directly to the other timeline, or back in time, because he has just seen Malcolm essentially die (become braindead?) And now he needs to see him again but it also ouch?

Slightly less painful, but still gonna have me dying inside, sounds good.

Warning: character death

On with the fic!

--

The sun was starting to set when the Doctor sensed it, the end of a timeline. He could see it, see where this branch of Malcolm's life ended, and it was consumed by whatever it was that the goddess had for a life.

He sat there, silently, watching as... as...

She stood up and turned to look at him with the stolen face of the man he loved. The Doctor wanted to glare, he wanted to fight and beg for her to let him go, but it was too late, it had always been too late.

She just nodded, her eyes a milky gray, blank and emotionless, and she turned away.

He didn't know where she was going, and he didn't care. He couldn't care, that was it, Malcolm was gone, this timeline was...

The Doctor ran.

He ran back to the TARDIS and threw open the doors, bounding up to the console. The TARDIS brushed at his mind, he could hear her making sounds of distress, attempts to stop his actions, attempts to comfort her.

"Please!" He begged her. "This wasn't meant to happen, you know that! He wasn't meant to be the vessel!"

It wouldn't be crossing into his own timeline, what he wanted to do, he had spent enough time here in this one to allow him passage into the other one, with the Malcolm he knew that was meant to live. How? He didn't know yet, but the Doctor would figure it out, he had to.

She brushed at him again, comfort, and he reached for it mentally. "Please... please, help me..." He said, his voice choked with a sob.

And the TARDIS started to move, she was returning to a time, away from this one. She was still comforting him in their connection, he wished so badly in this moment that she could speak words to him, he needed to hear a voice.

The landing was gentle. The TARDIS was doing her bed to comfort her thief today, and she opened the doors for him. The Doctor could smell the change in time from here, he could sense the timeline he was in, and he rushed out the doors, but not before giving her his thanks.

He ran. He ran through the village, ignoring the looks, ignoring everyone. Malcolm, he had to find Malcolm, where was he? He was here, he was here, the Doctor knew that.

He slammed the doors of the church open, and found Malcolm inside, alone. It seemed he was preparing for something, probably one of his talks, but the Doctor didn't care.

Malcolm was alive, and he was whole.

"Doctor?" Malcolm looked up, surprised. "I wasn't expecting you-"

Suddenly, the Doctor found himself across the room, arms wrapped tightly around the prophet. He was alive, he could hear a heartbeat, he could hear the man asking what was wrong, he felt warm hands rubbing at his back, to comfort.

The Doctor was crying, and Malcolm was aware of that, but the Doctor just held him closer.

"You're alive." He whispered, over and over again.

"Yes, I am. Is... did something happen?" Malcolm asked softly.

"... Not if I have anything to do about it." The Doctor spoke, gripping the back of Malcolm's coat.

He was going to make sure this timeline was correct, no matter what.

[ofpineapplesanddawns]

I just watched 5 eps of dw while writing dw fic so i am, unsurprisingly, in a dw sort of mood, so; would you do something short with Malcom and the Tenth Doctor? Ten taking him away, just for a moment, to see the stars, see what's beyond Erisden? Maybe somewhere that isn't Earth.

It's been AGES since I wrote Malcolm/Ten content. I miss those two men and their depressing loneliness.

On with the fic!

--

"One trip, that's it, alright?" The Doctor smiled as he walked Malcolm up to the console.

This wasn't the first time that Malcolm had been inside of the Doctor's strange box, but this would be the first time he would go anywhere in it. He had no idea how it could move to place, yet had seen it with his own eyes that it faded in and out of existence, reminded him a bit of when rain hit a body of water, there for a moment, gone the next, yet still there in some way.

The inside of the box, the TARDIS, as it was called, was beyond explaining to anyone he knew. How could he ever tell his brothers, his congregation, his own daughter, of the mysterious device his unusual friend used to get from here to there.

"I'd take you more places, but I feel that it might be too much for you right now." The Doctor was saying as he moved around the strange thing he called the console, where there was a pulsing cylinder of glass and light.

Malcolm quietly watched as the Doctor bonded about, flipping things, pushing flashing items, turning a wheel, before striking something with a mallet. "Hold on to something!"

That was the only warning Malcolm had before the room stuttered and violently rocked. The prophet shouted as he grabbed onto the metal railing, clinging to it as he heard the wheezing sound of the TARDIS all around them.

The Doctor let out a hoot of joy as the room felt like it was moving, even though it shouldn't do that.

"Good lord, you're insane!" Malcolm shouted, which just made the Doctor laugh with a manic glee. He was beautiful when he was in his element, when he didn't have that sad look on his face when he didn't think Malcolm would notice.

The movements stopped, and things calmed down. The Doctor ran a hand through his hair, messing it up a bit, but that was normal. He looked at what appeared to be a moving, framed image. It reminded Malcolm a bit of a zoetrope, but clearly more advanced. The Doctor smiled, giving a little nod, before approaching Malcolm, holding out his hand.

"You're going to want to see this." He said softly and Malcolm took the offered hand, being helped down the ramp and towards the doors.

The taller man opened the doors and Malcolm found the most beautiful, wondrous sight before him.

It was like a painting, of all sorts of colors, dusted and painted across a black canvas, stretched out across eternity with little diamonds scattered about it.

"What... what is this?" Malcolm asked, staring in pure awe out the doors, looking all around. They appeared to be floating in the colorful darkness. He swore he smelled the faintest hint of raspberries and gunpowder in the air.

"This is the universe, Malcolm." The Doctor said, leaning against the door frame. "This is what is beyond Erisden, beyond Britain, Europe, the Earth. This is what is all around your little planet and so many other amazing worlds like it."

"This is the universe?" Malcolm blinked, unable to take his eyes off of the beauty before him. "It is beyond anything I have ever seen, or have even read in books."

"That's the beauty of things, there's more to what we know out there. Just waiting for someone to take the steps to learn more. What we're looking out here is the Eagle Nebula, and right there, do you see those large clouds there, that cluster?"

The Doctor gestured to some rather large, strange looking shapes, and Malcolm nodded. "Those are called the Pillars of Creation. Granted, in your time, and in the time when scientist discover them, they've long been gone, destroyed in a supernova explosion, humans are still getting the light from this moment in the future due to distance and you don't understand anything I'm saying."

He cleared his throat. "I brought you here, to this time, this location, to just... see the wonders of things. You've been so stressed lately, I can see it in your actions, your eyes, and... I wanted to remind you that sometimes you just need to step back and remember that the universe is big, vast, amazing!"

He leaned out the door, looking at the thing, the nebula, with such wonder and appreciation. "Sometimes it's nice to be reminded that there's more than just you and your problems in this big, ol' universe we call home."

Malcolm looked at the man, his attention no longer on the beautiful scenery before him. No, he wanted to look at the man who brought him here, who did something that he never thought was possible before he met this strange person.

Then the Doctor turned and smiled so brightly at him.

Malcolm was quickly reminded of his love for this mysterious being and his wonders that came with him.

--

Mmmmm, wanted to go with something sweet, soft, just... something they both needed, ya know?

Also, big nerd, me, putting in little things that I like into this. I like zoetrope animations (when you spin a wheel to make images move), and I love the Pillars of Creation formation. I thought it would be rather fitting for the Doctor to show it to a prophet. Could've shown him the God's Hand cloud or whatever it is, but... nah, let's go with a personal favorite cause I'm a bit of a dork.

Oh, and the raspberries and gunpowder thing is because that’s what space smells like, apparently. I think the TARDIS, since she has the field around her to allow you to breathe, would let you smell space. 

[ofpineapplesanddawns]

What better way to kick off fall with a new spin on the Ten/Malcolm ship that’s monster-based! :D 

Warning: massive spoilers for the new Ten audio drama with past companions, plant-based body horror mentioned

On with the fic! 

--

It could have been by the skin of what was once his teeth, or by simply a miracle, but he had found himself somewhere else. 

While he was more grounded in nature now, time was not something he could escape from so easily. The expulsion from his TARDIS by the effects of the changeling that had once been Leela had seemed to not completely destroyed him, but sent him somewhere new, somewhere further in time.

He was not in England, not at the village, in the forest where he had control.

He was in the Welsh region, on an island, in the early 20th century. He was far from his TARDIS, from the forest, so far from his own reality, but still, he felt life here.

Life that wasn’t natural like the forest had been before he implanted himself into it, used it to feed.

It was similar though, it fed too, in a way that nature shouldn’t naturally on this planet. He touched the ground, he could feel it, a pulse, life. He could sense awareness as well, that he was known.

He had a sense of where he was, could it really be here?

No.

He left.

And this was different from the one from his reality, yet so very, very much the same, so very much like his own.

And then again, he always had a terrible habit of returning to places he had once been, timelines and realities be damned.

He reached up, touching at his face, coated in old vines, branches, and snapped them off, away. It would be most wise to look his best if there was a chance of meeting Him again. He wouldn’t be his exactly, but then again He’d still be his no matter what universe, timeline.

He knew this, he sensed it.

And lo and behold, from the tree lines, like a ghost, there He stood.

His plants around Him were green, twitching, alive and fresh. He was not coated in bark and old vines like he was, but that was fine, it was understandable.

Where He had offered Himself to Her, he had no choice of what became of him. Faerie tales and all that, it was... hard to explain. 

Still, a smile broke out on his face at the sight of the Prophet.

“It’s been a long time, Malcolm.” He greeted, his voice so different, but there were still indications that it was one that He would recognize well enough. “I’m sorry for the long wait, things... happened. As you can see.”

He stared at him, and nodded, not speaking, but a smile could be seen on His pale lips. He lifted a hand, holding it out as an offering, an invitation. 

The being formally known as the Doctor, the Spriggan, approached, taking the cold, dry hand with his own. 

--

Made some small changes, to fit a bit better with canon to the audio story, because I forgot something. 

[ofpineapplesanddawns]

Welp, I promised that I’d write up a bit more of the Ten/Malcolm au when I woke up, and now I’m awake. 

Warning: takes place in the alternate timeline where Malcolm is now the vessel of the goddess

On with the fic!

--

The island is quiet when the Doctor walks through the remains of the village. Nature was taking it back, and it was almost peaceful, serene, but it left the Doctor with a heavy feeling in his chest.

He watched as flowers bloomed along vines as he passed by, was Malcolm aware he was here?

He gently touched the delicate petals of one of the flowers when he approached, and the flower responded by leaning into his touch. Huh, fascinating, how much control of this place did Malcolm really have now?

The Doctor continued his walk, hearing the chirping of birds, the faint call of a seagull somewhere in the distance. There was life returning to the island since the last time he was here, when he had... when he had discovered what had become of his friend.

Then he picked up on something, a faint sound heard just over the gentle breeze, the call of the birds, the chirp of insects.

Singing.

The Doctor made his way towards the sound, it getting louder as he approached what appeared to be a small field. Parts of it were clearly dead, but there was a patch when someone had been tending to it, new life growing next to their death brethren.

He found a lone figure working with a hoe in a patch of dirt, dressed in dirty, plant-infected clothing, a familiar hat on his head. 

“Come all you fair and tender girls, that flourish in your prime.” Came the deep singing of Malcolm, and it shocked the Doctor to hear that it was in English, not in the strange language of the goddess. The fact that it was actually Malcolm’s own voice made the Doctor’s hearts twinge.

Maybe... maybe he had gotten control of himself again? Maybe he had overpowered her?

“Beware, beware, keep your garden fair.” Malcolm continued as he dug at the ground. “Let no man steal your thyme, let no man steal your time...”

He then stopped, standing upright as he turned his head, looking towards the Doctor at the edge of the field. From this distance, the Doctor could see the glassy look of the prophet’s eyes, just a bit clearer, but not as much as he’d prefer.

“Good afternoon, Doctor.” He said, his language switching to that of Welsh. Huh, how clear-minded was Malcolm to remember his native tongue? “I wasn’t expecting guests.”

“You should know better now than to ever expect me.” The Doctor said, putting on a smile as he walked across the field, careful of any new growth. “Doin’ a bit of gardening?”

“It... gives me something to do, in moments of clarity.”

Oh.

That’s what this was, a temporary return to normalcy. 

“I see. Well, it looks like you’re making progress.” The Doctor replied.

“It helps that it’s just me, that She’s not stressed out with being over burdened.” Malcolm said, looking at the turned soil before him, darkened fingers gripping the handle of his tool tightly. 

The Doctor watched as little vines, green in color, slipped from under the sleeves of his jacket, wrapping around the handle as well. It was fascinating to see how different Malcolm looked compared to the woman who had held the goddess before. He was filled with so much more life than she had been, green compared to a sickly white.

Fascinating in a depressing way.

“How long have you been like this? Clear-minded?” The Doctor found himself asking.

Malcolm looked at him, blinking. “I... since sun up. I have taken to using these moments to fixing my community. It will never be the same, no one will come here, but this is for my own comfort. My fields are returning to life, in little ways, and my goats and sheep are doing well.”

The Doctor didn’t know there were farm animals here, huh. Well, he hadn’t been wrong, things were returning to normal here, and it seemed that Malcolm was doing decently for himself.

Too bad this was still a bad timeline, this one would not last, the Doctor could sense it. Malcolm would eventually lose himself completely, everything will be for nothing.

Best to let him have these moments then.

The Doctor swallowed against the tightness in his throat. “But you’re alright, yes?”

Malcolm gave him a small, sad smile. “As alright as I can be, Doctor. And yourself?”

“I... I could be better, but I’m trying.”

“Then we shall try together, love. Care to help me? It is a lot for a man with a bad leg.”

The Doctor smiled just a little and nodded, going to grab a rake that laid nearby. He removed his coat and suit jacket, setting them aside as he moved to help out. Any time he got with Malcolm like this was better than having no Malcolm at all.

The prophet worked near him, before he started to sing to himself again. 

“For when your time, it has passed and gone...” He sung and the Doctor listened. “He’ll care no more for you. And every place, where your time was waste...”

“Will all spread o’er with rue.” The Doctor joined him, keeping his eyes to the ground, the tightness in his chest returning. “Will all spread o’er with rue...” 

--

I made myself sad with this one.

The song is called Let No Man Steal Your Thyme, and you can hear Michael sing it on spotify (and probably youtube)

[ofpineapplesanddawns]

#10 - free ship choice? x

“Don’t just say that and then walk away.”

Hhhh... hard to pick a ship to go with this one...

Let's go with Malcolm/Ten because it's been AGES since I last wrote for those two and their relationship is pretty much 90% angst.

This is still in the early days of them knowing each other, before they actually get together, so basically when Ten is still an enigma to Malcolm, the weird man who keeps showing up at random times in his early life on the island.

On with the fic!

--

The first time Malcolm became aware of the mysterious sound that he would later know as his signal that the Doctor was arriving, it had been in the late evening, just before the sun finally set.

He had been coming back from visiting the Goddess, aware that even in the setting light of the sun, he could see that the colors of the forest were brighter, healthier than before. But then he heard it, a strange sound unlike anything he had ever heard before, echoing through the trees.

It sounded like grinding metal, wheezing, or if someone dragged a key across piano wire. Malcolm stopped, trying to figure out where the sound came from, but he couldn't pick up the source of it, what direction it came from.

"Must... be my imagination..." He muttered to himself, deciding it was wise to ignore such sounds. The island had enough mysteries to it, he really did not wish for another to be added to his worries.

He stumbled as he walked along a slowly forming path, they really should find a better way to get to the Goddess without people finding this trail, before he stopped. Ahead of him was a man, dressed in a strange suit, a brown coat, and shoes too strange to be considered normal.

It was him, the Doctor, the mysterious man who kept coming and going with no explanation!

Malcolm glared, clutching his staff tightly, a weapon, just in case. "You again." He said, a small growl in his voice. "What have you come to tell me this time, Doctor?"

"Just came to check on you." The Doctor replied, voice even, calm, but hiding something else.

"Check on me?" Malcolm nearly barked a laugh. "Ah, finally living up to your so-called title, eh?"

The Doctor's neutral face shifted, a small frown coming to him. "I see we're not on good terms at the moment."

"Have we ever been?"

"Probably not for a while, I'm not sure how far back I am." He said, always in riddles. "How long have you been here?"

Malcolm didn't want to say, he just continued to glare, but eventually he spoke. "Nearly two years."

"Have you started your community?"

The prophet bristled. "There are... people." The community, his congregation, they were growing month by month.

The Doctor nodded, a solemn look on their face. "I see... so it's still the early days. Maybe there's a chance to change things now..." In the still quiet of the woods, the too quiet of the woods, Malcolm could hear the Doctor mutter to himself.

"No, no... that would be messing with any fixed points, there are always fixed points... don't get your hopes up, don't go thinking like that again..."

What did that mean?

Before Malcolm could question him, the Doctor sighed and turned on his heels, heading up a small incline, about to go deeper into the trees.

"H-hey!" Malcolm called out, trying to follow him. "Don’t just say that and then walk away! What nonsense are you on about now, Doctor!"

He hated when this man spoke like a prophet of a Greek myth, hidden messages in enigmatic sentences, he always spoke like he knew more than he let on.

He probably did.

The Doctor looked over his shoulder at him, giving a sad smile. "Sorry." He said before he started to run, long legs carrying him off into the growing darkness.

There was no way Malcolm would be able to catch him, not in his condition, not into the darkness. He cursed under his breath, shaking his head. "Fine, keep your secrets." He said to no one, moving to continue his walk back home.

Then he heard it again, the strange sounds from earlier. He swore he saw a glow in the distance, somewhere in the darkness, fading in and out before it was finally gone.

[ofpineapplesanddawns]

I am in love with your Malcolm/the doctor fics, could you write one where the doctor gets his ass handed to him by Quinn and Malcolm comes in and saves him, why some tender hurt/comfort ����🥺🥺

I've been waiting all day to get home and write this! I would have written it while I was out, but I either didn't have the time or I was in the car, and I get car sick easily when I try to read or write, haha.

Warning: injury, threats, blood (at this point, expect blood to be a common warning in this au)

On with the fic!

--

The Doctor had to hand it to Malcolm, he was running a rather good community. Based on strong ideas of community first, of providing and helping, it wasn't a bad idea. Then again, a lot of cults start out on beliefs like this, but... well... it all depends on how corrupt the leader becomes, he guessed.

He smiled a bit as he watched the prophet as he helped a woman, talking with her as he tried to help with a goat that was trying to run off on them. However, the Doctor's smile slipped when he noticed someone watching him. He looked over, seeing that it was Quinn, his eyes hard and dark as they stared at the Doctor from across the way.

He gave a slight nod and turned away, leading off from the village. An invitation, this couldn't be good. But that didn't stop the Doctor from following after, his hands shoved into his pockets.

Neither said a word as they entered into forest, a bit of a distance from the village. The Doctor kept his guard up, he didn't trust Quinn, hadn't since he first started visiting Malcolm. It wasn't easy to avoid this man, who looked at him with such a hatred that the Doctor couldn't understand. Why did this man hate him so? Did he think that the Time Lord was a threat?

Well, he was, always was, but he hadn't done anything to Quinn himself to cause such venom in his words, such burning stares. Did it have to do with Malcolm?

Was he aware of that he and the prophet did in private?

The Doctor felt his body tense up when he was forced to stop, the human had stopped walking and was facing him now. If looks could kill...

"I'm guessing you want to speak with me, yes?" The Doctor asked, hands still in his pockets, trying to seem calm and relaxed.

"What is it exactly that you want with Malcolm?" Quinn asked, his fists clenched tightly at his sides.

The Doctor frowned, lifting his head up, staring down at the other man. "What makes you think that I want something from him?"

"You're too close to him." Quinn spoke as he started to circle the Doctor. "You are constantly coming and going at the strangest times, but never aboard a boat, you never explain to any of us how you get here, or how you even found this island. Hell, you were here when we first arrived, after we found Her."

The Time Lord remained silent, staying still as he listened.

"And when you're here, you're always with the prophet. Why is that? What is your plan with him?"

"I have no plan. He's my friend."

"He doesn't trust easily, Doctor." He said the name with such disgust, it was surprising he didn't spit to emphasis this. "You two are close... a little too close."

The Doctor inhaled sharply at the burning pain in his side, frozen in shock. He turned his head slowly, seeing that there was a blade in his side.

Then a fist struck him right in the jaw and he toppled over, hitting the hard ground. He let out a cry from the intense pain. The Doctor coughed as he tried to sit up, glaring at Quinn, who just stared down at him.

"We can't have someone like you here, corrupting him as you have been." He said with distaste.

"I... am doing no such thing..." The Doctor ground up, getting back to his feet. He nearly pulled the knife out, then decided against it, no, that would only make him bleed out worse. He did a check of himself, nothing vital was struck, but it still burned, the muscles and nerves were damaged, and he was bleeding. "What do you even think I'm doing...?"

"He's been questioning things, things he set into place here. Things he originally agreed to, before you started coming more frequently." The other man stated, cracking his knuckles. He then moved quick, to strike again, but the Doctor dodged the punch.

"I haven't done anything!" The Doctor stumbled, but caught himself. "If he's thinking things differently from before, that is his own doing!"

Personally, the Doctor felt like Malcolm was slipping further into his faith, like his followers, that he truly took these things to heart, instead of as a source of power, control. Either situation was frightening in its own way, but one could be better than the other...

The Doctor was struck again, unable to dodge this punch to the chest, his mind was a bit fuzzy from the pain and blood loss. He dropped to his knees, trying to breathe, the air knocked from his lungs.

His tie was grabbed, pulled, and it tightened around the Doctor's throat, making breathing a bit more difficult than just seconds ago. He stared at Quinn, who looked ready to kill.

"I know what you and Malcolm are doing behind closed doors." He growled out, pulling tighter, and the Doctor tried to get at the knot, at his hand. "Your corrupting ways couldn't just stop at words, could it?"

"Quinn!" Came a shout, and the Doctor tried to look behind him.

Malcolm was there, with Frank, and he looked furious. He stormed his way over, striking his friend's hand with his cane, making Quinn release his hold on the Doctor. The Time Lord dropped, gasping, struggling with the tie to loosen it.

"What the hell, Quinn!" Malcolm demanded. "Explain yourself!"

"He's an outsider, Malcolm." Quinn snapped. "We can't have him here, he is causing problems for us all, especially for you!"

"He is a friend, and blood brother, and someone who has saved my life! We do not kill people like that!"

"But he is-"

"I will not hear of your slander of the Doctor." Malcolm growled in a low voice, the Doctor couldn't remember ever seeing him so angry before. "We will discuss your actions later, but for now, return to the village with Frank. I do not wish to see you for the rest of the day. If I do, I will punish you."

The larger man flared his nostrils, his breathing hard, his face red, as if he was about to fight Malcolm. But instead, he turned away, storming off with a confused and uncomfortable Frank, who followed close behind him back to the village.

Malcolm watched them leave, before he dropped to his knee in front of the Doctor. "Good lord, are you alright?"

"I'm... I'm fine." The Doctor coughed. "You'd be surprised what I can deal with. Been electrocuted a few times, in this body alone, not exactly pleasant." He tried to joke, but he was hurting, and the knife was still in his side.

"We should get you to the medic." Malcolm helped him to his feet.

"I'd rather go to your place, if you don't mind?" The Doctor replied, looking into hazel eyes. Malcolm frowned, searching his face, but gave him, walking him back to the village.

Once they got to Malcolm's home, the Doctor found himself in a bit of a similar situation to the last time he had been healed by this man. Except this time, it wasn't due to a forest goddess trying to drain him dry of his blood like a Plasmavore, which, well, was sort of a similar experience to that. Only the goddess didn't have a plastic straw, she had teeth, and roots.

"Lay down." Malcolm motioned for the Doctor to lay on the table he cleared off, placing an old sheet upon it.

"Need me to take off my shirt and jacket?"

"That would be wise, and the knife needs to come out."

"Of course." The Doctor swallowed thickly, this would hurt. He grabbed the handle and made it quick, yanking the blade out with a hiss, before tossing it to the floor. The wound started to bleed more, and the Doctor worked quickly to take off his suit jacket and his shirt.

He clutched at the wound before getting himself up on the table, laying down on it. Malcolm finished cleaning off his hands before walking over, beginning to work on cleaning at the wound with water, then got a needle and thread ready. "What the hell happened out there?"

"Quinn tried to kill me, I think." The Doctor sighed, then winced as he felt the needle in his skin. Oh, he always hated having to do this, he gripped at the sheets as he felt the needle again.

"Why would he do that?" Malcolm asked, though his tone said that he had a feeling he knew the answer.

"Because he believed me to be corrupting you." The Doctor shut his eyes, breathing through his clenched teeth. "He knows of us."

The stitching stopped and Malcolm was quiet. The Doctor opened his eyes, looking at the conflicted man. "You're bothered by that." He said and the prophet nodded.

"I know my friend, and he... does not approve of such things."

"But do you?"

"I think you know the answer to that, Doctor."

"Of course I do, but you're conflicted."

Malcolm nodded and started to stitch again. He was quiet for a few minutes, before he spoke again. "He is my dear friend, Doctor, we have been through so much together. It feels like he can't trust me, I don't think he has for quite some time."

"I understand, I've had friends who have been like that before."

"He was willing to kill you, though I am sure he knew it would upset me." Malcolm sounded angry, upset. "I think it might be wise if you left for a bit, for your own safety."

The Doctor wanted to argue, but he knew that he would be fighting a pointless battle. "I think you're right, he could try it again. I'm sure I'll be back soon, hopefully without trouble this time around." He reached down, gripping Malcolm's arm, giving it a squeeze. "Plus, I need a break to heal, he got me really good in the ribs, uhg, that's internal bruising right there. And my jaw hurts, I think there's a squeak to it now!"

Malcolm shook his head, a bit entertained by the Doctor's antics as he worked on sealing up the wound. He cleaned the blood up again, before helping the Doctor sit up, giving him a few drops of something from a vial. "You should stay the night, I'll help you back to your strange box in the morning, before the others waken."

The Doctor nodded as he let Malcolm help him put some wrappings around his stomach, to help with the bleeding. He took the man's hand, squeezing it. "Malcolm Howe..." He spoke softly.

The prophet looked at him, returning the squeeze. "I am not ashamed of us, Doctor. This village does its best to not hate on others, but I know that what we have will not be approved of. Especially with you being an outsider who comes and goes as he pleases."

"I've never been approved of by most, I'm used to it." The Time Lord gave him a cocky grin. "But it was only a matter of time, you know, before someone figured things out. Just wish it wasn't him, then I probably wouldn't have been stabbed."

"He's observant, though not always. I fear that he doesn't always see the big picture."

"Like how I'm not actually doing anything to you in the form of corruption?" He really wasn't. Though he didn't approve of the cult, or what was happening to the goddess, he had no power to really stop them. Sometimes, things like this just had to play out, even though the Doctor was, technically, trying to influence things down a better path than the two timelines he had seen.

"I suppose. I think you should lay down a bit, let the medicine takes effect." He helped the Doctor from the table and kissed him. "I have to give the evening sermon anyway, and I know you don't really listen to those. Stay here, do not let him in. I will speak with him afterwards, if I must."

The Doctor shook his head. "No, ignore him, you're furious and so is he, neither of you need to see each other right now. Speak with him after I've left, alright?"

Malcolm looked at him, before nodding. "I think you're right." He wiped his hands off on a wet towel before rolling down his sleeves. "I'll be back after the sermon, I'll check on you when I return."

"Don't worry," The Doctor said as he watched Malcolm put on his coat, then his hat, "I'll be here." He said before kissing him softly on the lips.

When he pulled away, he whispered against his lips. "Don't take too long, prophet."

[ofpineapplesanddawns]

I just ADORE your Malcolm/the doctor fics!!! You are truly an amazing writer!!! Could you write a story where the doctor is injured or sick and Malcolm tries to take care of him???

Thank you enjoying my work...!

Here we go, a little injury fic for you, anon!

Warning: blood, injury, alien time travelers should not be used to feed mysterious nature gods

On with the fic!

--

The Doctor knew better, oh, he knew he was not meant to be in here, but he had to see what had happened in the past few years.

The community was still growing, the little town outside of the woods, in the clearing where farms were being established and animals were kept. The Doctor had it hand it to Malcolm, he was doing decently with running a community, even if he was doing so as a false prophet to a goddess no one was really allowed to see.

Honestly, the Doctor had run into much worse groups like this, clearly. As long as Malcolm actually listened to his warnings, maybe things won't turn out as bad as what the Doctor had seen in the future. He had seen two terrible, disgusting outcomes in the far future, and frankly, he wished to spare Malcolm and the village the horrors of what could happen.

Luckily, this place is not home to a fix point, so anything could happen!

It was fairly easy to break into the barn, hidden deep in the forest, standing out like a sore thumb. The ol' sonic was also so handy with a lock. That, and a hatpin and a paper clip also does the trick if need be.

Opening the barn, the Doctor could smell the strong scent of soil and plant matter in the air, with just a hint of blood. It was fairly easy to find the goddess, sitting in a throne of branches and roots, though the sight was horrific, to say the least.

She was in a more ashen state than when the Doctor first met her nearly five years ago, and her body seemed to be fusing with the throne.

"Oh, I'm sorry," He said softly to her, "I'm so sorry."

He approached slowly, her strange eyes watching his every step. "Hello, do you remember me? I'm the Doctor, and I'd like to help you."

The Doctor placed his hands on the throne, feeling the dry wood against his skin, careful of the pointed bits of branches and debris stuck to it. "Maybe, if I can get you out, let you go back to your home here on the island, things will be alright, yes?"

She made a strange hissing, clicking sound, and started to speak, but the Doctor didn't understand a single word. And that was impressive, he understood nearly five billion languages, yet he had never heard this one before in his life.

"She said that releasing her won't change anything."

The Doctor yelped, turning to see that Malcolm was there, along with Quinn, but no Frank. Then the Doctor hissed sharply, feeling a pain in his hand. He looked, seeing that he had sliced his palm on one of the broken branches in his jump of surprise. Red blood pooled from the wound, dripping from his hand and onto the throne.

"Doctor, get away from Her..." Malcolm said, not in a threatening sense, but in caution.

"It's just a little blood." The Doctor reasoned. "If that's what she drinks, might as well let her have a sip, don't want perfectly good blood to go to wasssttAAA!"

A vice-like grip grabbed a hold of his arm and he was pulled onto the woman, who shrieked in some sort of strange, nearly-joyousness manner.

Then she bite hand, hard.

"Let go of me, let go of me!" The Doctor cried out, trying to shove her face away, but her bite was strong, more blood came out, coating mouth and his hand. He pulled out the sonic screwdriver, flashing the light in her eyes, but that had no effect at all.

Then he felt it, sharp, needle-like points of pain, in his arms and at his ankles. He watched in horror as roots came from the throne, the floor, trying to dig into his skin.

"She's trying to drain me..." He said in observant terror.

"That's enough!" Malcolm shouted, storming over. "You have had your fill, you do not need him! Release the Doctor, he is not yours!"

The goddess puller her bloody mouth away, hissing at Malcolm, who pulled a knife from his coat and slashed his hand, wincing at the pain. He pressed the palm of it to her face, letting her suckle at the wound, giving the Doctor the oppertunity to get away, pulling the roots from his skin.

He stumbled back, clutching his hand to him, it was still bleeding, and it burned greatly. The pain in his ankles and arms stung, but the hand was much worse. He looked up at Malcolm, who pulled his hand away, whispering words to the woman that the Doctor couldn't quite catch.

He panted from the shock of it all, his attention turning to Quinn as he approached the wooden throne. They locked eyes for a second, and he could see an anger, and a curiosity, in them. The Doctor didn't like that, he looked away.

Malcolm turned to his right-hand man, whispering something to him now, and it sounded threatening, before he moved towards the Doctor. "Come, let's get you patched up, my friend. It would be wise if you did not bleed out here, She doesn't need anymore of your blood."

"I wasn't planning on donating again anytime soon." The Doctor tried to smile, but he was feeling a bit woozy as he got to his feet. "I'm gonna fall over..."

"Come now, I'll take you to the village, get you patched up." Malcolm spoke as he put an arm around the Doctor. He looked over his shoulder, seeming to be looking either at the goddess or Quinn with a hard, darken stare, then he walked the Doctor from the barn.

--

It was dark in the village, minus small fires lit about for those on night patrol. Best that no one was out, they would ask questions about the bleeding man pressed against Malcolm's side, who seemed to be mumbling things to himself from the blood loss.

It sounded like he was saying mathematical calculations to himself, the Doctor continued to be a strange man in Malcolm's life.

He got to his home, and sat the Doctor down in a chair before looking for the medical supply kit his brother-in-law had given him. "I'll clean you up myself, Doctor. I'd rather the doctor here not ask questions about what happened to you. I can't say this was an animal, that bite looks too human."

The Doctor shakily lifted his still-bleeding hand. "She got me good..."

"She really took to your blood." Malcolm frowned as he pulled out what he needed, then got himself a small bowl of water, walking over to the chair and carefully lowering himself to the floor.

"Course she did..." The Doctor sighed, closing his eyes, then opened them quickly, trying to sit up. "You only feed her animal blood, which can get boring, I'm sure. She got a taste of me and she really liked that."

"Why is that?" The prophet asked as he cleaned the hand wound first, trying to wash away the blood. It didn't look like it needed to be stitched up, but he was going to tightly bandage it, like his brother-in-law showed him before.

"Mmmm... Time Lord blood is much different from animal or human."

Malcolm stopped, turning to look at the Doctor. "Time Lord?"

"You know I'm not human, yeah?"

"Yes, you told me before."

"There ya go, that's what I am, Time Lord. 's why I've got the two hearts."

Malcolm was very aware of the two heart beats he had heard before, the back of his neck felt a little warm, must be the fire from the fireplace. "What is a Time Lord?"

"An ancient being from beyond the stars and time." The Doctor gave him a manic grin. "Do you have somethin'... sugary? It helps with blood loss."

Malcolm dipped his hands in the bowl, cleaning off some of the blood, before getting up to look around his kitchen. There wasn't much, but he returned with a jar of preserved peaches. The Doctor gave his thanks and started to eat a few of them, then sipped at the sugary juice inside.

"You didn't have to do this." The Doctor spoke after a while, when Malcolm had silently returned to cleaning and tending to the wounds. "I know you didn't want to."

"I did. You are my friend, Doctor. And I feared She would kill you." Malcolm replied. "Why were you in there? I've warned you before to never go inside."

"And I've warned you to release her."

"I can't."

"Yes, you can."

"It's not my choice."

"There's always a choice, for everyone." The Doctor said. "You gave her your blood, that was a choice."

Malcolm stopped and looked at his own hand, he had wrapped a strip of cloth from the barn around it before he had helped the Doctor. He hadn't thought, he needed to distract Her, and She seemed to have taken to it nearly as greedily as She had to the Doctor's.

"I had to help you. I look out for my friends, Doctor. I was not going to let the Goddess drain you, I've seen what She can do to an animal, it's not... it's not a pretty way to die."

It was terrifying, a nightmare, if She had full access instead of what was offered.

No one ever said a god was always merciful.

The Doctor popped another peach slice into his mouth before setting the jar down. "Malcolm..."

"Doctor?" He looked up from where he was finishing with wrapping one of his ankles.

"I want you to be careful. She's gotten a taste for new blood, she might try for more in the future."

"I know you are saying this as a possible warning, but your eyes..." He touched the Doctor's face, "they tell me it will happen."

The Doctor looked so serious, that was all the answer Malcolm needed. "I will do my best to keep her sated, unwanting of the blood of man and... Time Lord."

A tired, knowing smile came to the other man's lips. "I know you will, as best as you will."

Malcolm nodded and gathered the supplies. "You may rest here tonight, I will offer you my bed. Do keep quiet though, my daughter is sleeping in her room. I don't think she even knows I'm back."

The Doctor nodded and carefully stood up. "Thank you, Malcolm Howe. You didn't have to do this, I would have been fine when I got back to my TARDIS."

"It was the least I could do. I didn't want you to die, Doctor. You are of importance to me."

"I'm sure I am."

--

This ran away from me and got very, very long.

[ofpineapplesanddawns]

❛ you left like i was never a reason to stay. ❜ with Malcolm/the doctor

Oh, anon, that is so deliciously evil of a prompt for this ship!

Let's say this takes place right before Thomas comes to the island, so when things are getting bad and Malcolm is becoming desperate to save the island.

Warning: possible breakup, I'll leave it up to you guys to see it how you want

On with the fic!

--

The Doctor arrived at a bad time, he could tell the moment he stepped from the TARDIS.

The air smelled wrong, and tasting the soil was like eating something that had been contaminated. There were dying plants about, and the island felt like it was sick. It had felt like this the last time he had come here around this time, but it had been at a stage where things could change, it could get better.

Now it felt like it was nearing the point of no return, like the timeline splinters the Doctor had visited. The one where Malcolm was killed and Quinn won, or the one where Malcolm was the new God of the island.

He broke into a run to the village, finding it deserted, but he knew it wasn't. Faintly, near the edge, he could hear voices. The church, they were there.

He rushed to the church and could clearly hear voices inside, Malcolm's the loudest, as a sermon was happening. He peeked through the glass, seeing the whole village there, and at the front Malcolm was walking, reading from his book.

He was alive, he was alive and he was fine.

That didn't stop the beat of the Doctor's hearts in his chest, he was still worried.

He waited outside for the congregation to leave, for Malcolm to be alone before he approached. He slipped inside easily, the people of the island were so used to their mysterious visitor that no one batted an eye. Andrea looked at him for a second, giving him a nod then gestured to the front. "He's alone." She said, in a knowing tone.

This wasn't for that sort of visit, sadly, this was to be a serious discussion.

Malcolm was at the front, speaking with Quinn. Because of course he was, that bastard was always around, much more frequently since his attempted attack on the Doctor some time ago. The man gave the Doctor a terrible look, and Malcolm turned, a look of surprise on hsi face.

"D-Doctor, I did not hear your arrival." He said, limping over, his cane out of reach at the moment.

"No, I figured not when you're having a sermon. Prophet, I need to have a word with you." The Doctor glanced at Quinn. "Alone."

"Whatever you have to say to him, it can be said in front of me." Quinn growled, but Malcolm gave him a pointed look.

"No, I don't want you speaking with the Doctor. Go, keep an eye on the village, let me know how things are going with the new goats. We need them ready for the festival soon."

Quinn glowered at the Doctor, but nodded, stepping past them and out of the church. Once they were alone, the Doctor turned to Malcolm, who was looking away. "You know what I'm going to say."

"Of course I do," Malcolm spat, "it's been a major topic since the beginning, hasn't it? I'm fully aware the island is sick, Doctor."

"And getting sicker. Malcolm, I told you to find a better solution!"

"We tried! I tried!" He looked unsettled. "I don't... they found something that's been keeping things afloat, but it scares me greatly, Doctor. It's terrible, but it's keeping my brothers and sisters from death."

"But whatever it is, it's hurting her, isn't it?" The Doctor's voice was low, and he knew it made Malcolm feel worse. "What is it?"

"I... Quinn and Frank, they came up with something, in the barn. They know I am aware of it, but I can't do anything about it, I can't tell you what it is because even I can't... I can't speak of it, it's terrible. And yet, She's talking to me again. She wants more, but She won't say what. She won't tell me more than just little things."

The Doctor grabbed his hand and looked at it, pushing up his sleeve. His eyes softened, a look of pity on his face. "Oh, Malcolm Howe..."

There were scars of different sizes along the skin of Malcolm's arm, on his palm. He pulled back, cradling his arm. "My blood sates her when I can't handle what else feeds Her beyond the weekly blood letting."

"What feeds her, Malcolm?" The Doctor asked, his voice on the edge of dangerous.

Malcolm refused to look at him. The Doctor clicked his tongue. "Alright, I'll just have to take a look for myself, won't I?"

"No!" Roared Malcolm, grabbing him tightly be the arm. "You shall not confront Her nor go near that barn! Do you hear me!?"

"Then tell me what is going on!" The Doctor shouted back. "Malcolm, I want to help you!"

"I don't need your fucking help!"

"You do!"

"I don't!" He shoved the Doctor back. "You just tell me to fix this, but you never offer to fix it! You've stopped offering so long ago! So, you know what? We took things into our own hands, I took things into my own hands! I've got a plan that will help the island out until we can get order restored, and it doesn't involve you!"

The Doctor heard the anger in Malcolm's voice, saw it in how the other stared at him with burning eyes. He swallowed. "I've been trying to help you, whenever I come to visit..."

Malcolm scoffed, looking away. "You should have just stayed, maybe then you could have stopped this, before the earth became poisoned and the animals suffered."

"You know I can't do that, I have to leave at some point, I've never been one to stay in one place for long for any reason."

There was such a sharp, bitter laugh from the human. "And yet you say you love me."

"Malcolm..." That hurt, greatly.

"It's awful, every time you depart," Malcolm spoke, quietly, "especially when it was in the morning, or even the middle of the night, without so much as a note."

There was a moment of still silence, before he spoke again. "You left like I was never a reason to stay."

The Doctor felt like Malcolm had just stabbed him with those raw words. "Oh, Malcolm Howe..." He started, stepping closer, but Malcolm moved away, grabbing for his walking stick.

"I have to go look after my town, get things ready for the new converts coming in tomorrow, Doctor. It would be wise if you left."

He didn't stick around, he moved quickly out of the church, leaving the Doctor inside, completely alone.

--

I know Malcolm can be a cruel man, but from what I remember seeing, it's almost like he accepted what was going on in the barn only out of desperation to keep his people safe and alive. His solution to get money until they could make the Goddess happy again seems a lot more tame compared to whatever the fuck was going on in the barn, honestly.

Even if his paranoia was high at the time and a man died because of it, but still, holy shit. Kidnapping for a ransom is way better than torture barn for blood and Quinn's fucking disturbing plan. Yikes.

[ofpineapplesanddawns]

❛ please don’t let me forget your voice. ❜ - Ten/Malcolm?

Apparently I like suffering

So do I.

Time for bad timeline content! :D

I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.

On with the fic!

--

The Doctor didn't have to look far for Malcolm when he arrived, he found the man sitting near the statue in the damaged village, looking like he was asleep.

It did send a spark of worry through the Doctor, until Malcolm turned to look at him, his eyes normal, alive, and the Doctor plastered a grin to his face. "Lovely day for a nap?"

"I suppose so." Malcolm replied. "It's a lovely day, the weather warm, the sky's clear."

"A rare, warm day for the autumn season." The Doctor commented before sitting down next to Malcolm.

"Good day to enjoy with company."

"I hope that I'm good company then." The Doctor chuckled lightly, resting his head on Malcolm's shoulder. He did his best to ignore the movement under the coat, vines, he could smell them, he could smell a lot of things.

Malcolm's scent, mixed with a warm, earthy aroma, mixed with blood and something alive that the Doctor's couldn't quite place, but he knew what it was. Who it was.

"Doctor." Malcolm spoke quietly.

"Hm?"

The prophet sighed. "She told me that it's... nearing the end."

The Doctor sat up, staring at Malcolm. "No. No, no, don't say that, don't talk like that."

"I've forgotten so much now." Malcolm said, a sad smile on his face. "I can't remember my daughter's face. I can't... I can't remember anyone here, except you now."

"There has to be more time." The Doctor pleaded.

"This is it, the last day." Malcolm sighed softly. "I'm glad that it's a beautiful day."

The Doctor wanted to shout, to tell him off, that there was time, they had time, he was the last Time Lord, he should have dominion over it-!

Then he stopped, and realized how he was thinking.

No.

Not that again.

Never that again.

He swallowed hard and tried to hold back the pain he felt in his chest, his eyes. "I'm sorry..." He said so quietly he barely heard himself. "I'm so, so sorry."

This timeline would end, the Doctor would make sure of it, but it still hurt. It hurt so fucking much. This was still Malcolm, no matter what.

A hand touched his own, clinging to it. Malcolm wasn't looking at him, but the Doctor could see a tear roll down the side of his face. "Tell me a story, Doctor, one of your fantastical stories."

"What do you want to hear?" The Doctor asked.

"Anything. I just... please don’t let me forget your voice."

That made the Doctor's hearts ache something terribly, he... it was like... it was like B- no, no. No.

He stammered and started to speak, telling Malcolm a story of an old man and his granddaughter in the big, blue box that he had stolen so long ago.

--

Hey, guess what, I made myself fucking cry with this one.

Thanks.

[ofpineapplesanddawns]

Could you write some fluff with Malcolm/ten?

A bit difficult to think of fluff for these two, but I might have something that could work.

I feel like this is a few years into their friendship/relationship, where Ten visits often while Malcolm establishes his community and is already now a prophet. He's also a father as well, but his daughter isn't going to show up in this, we're just focused on the ship here.

Also, I'm not going to pass up on the fact that, even if only for a few scenes, Malcolm had long hair in his younger days, and it's very clear I'm a sucker for a Sheen role where he gets to sport long hair, so I'm including that in this. While I love the buzz cut, early prophet Malcolm in this au had long hair.

On with the fic!

--

"I'm not missing the opportunity for this, Malcolm, and I'm not letting you either!"

"Do you even know where we're going?"

"Just up this hill! I calculated it to have the perfect view of the meteor shower!"

Malcolm wasn't sure how the Doctor talked him into this, he had a young daughter to take care of at home, he shouldn't be out and about after dark with the mysterious man he l- cared deeply about.

But then again, his daughter was in good hands, and he had been missing the Doctor, so he wasn't going to miss the chance to spend time with him.

Still, it was a struggle to keep up with the fast man, who always seemed to be on the move, never able to keep still. He caught up finally, when the Doctor stopped to place a blanket on the ground, on top of a hill.

Malcolm could hear the sound of water in the distance, so they were near the docks, he had an idea of where they could be, even with just the light of the moon shining down on them. "Come on, lay with me!" The Doctor said as he laid on the blanket, patting the blanket.

"You do have to give me time to get places, Doctor," Malcolm commented as he sat down, "I'm not as young as I used to be, nor do I have the best leg to work with."

The Doctor beamed at him. "Ah, you're plenty young! Especially compared to me!"

"You look much younger than I."

"You should have seen me a while back, oof, this is probably the youngest I've looked in a long time!" He paused, seemed to count on his fingers, then nodded. "Oh yeah, it's been a while since my pretty boy, cricket playing days."

Malcolm looked at him strangely. "You speak in riddles, Doctor. Even the Goddess makes more sense than you, and only I can understand her words."

The Doctor scoffed, he never liked talking about the Goddess, he seemed so unsure of Her and Her gifts for the land and people of it.

"Just look up at the sky with me, you're going to see something amazing." The Doctor said, ignoring what Malcolm pointed out.

They laid next to each other quietly, at the beautiful, clear sky, with all its pinpoints of lights, sparkling against the black. Malcolm glanced to the man at his side, who seemed content and happy, staring at the night sky, before his smile seemed to shrink, his eyes searching, as if looking for something.

A small frown came to the Doctor, he appeared lost in his thoughts, and Malcolm took a chance, he reached and gently took the Doctor's hand in his own. This seemed to snap the Doctor from his troublesome thoughts, with him now looking at the prophet.

"Malcolm?"

"What is on your mind, my friend? Do you want to tell me?"

"Like... a confessional?"

Malcolm's lip quirked. "If you'd like to see it like that, but it doesn't have to be. You can just talk to me, you seem so troubled."

The Doctor sighed softly, giving Malcolm's hand a small squeeze. "I've been... traveling alone for a while now, Malcolm. I'm getting kind of tired of it, because I'm just reminded of how alone I really am in the universe. There's no one like me out there anymore, my family, my people, my... I lost everything."

"What do you mean?"

The man turned, looking at him, eyes shining in the moonlight. He looked so vulnerable like this, which was shocking, he was normally so cocky and strong, always ready for anything. Reminded Malcolm a bit of himself, before he had been arrested for treason against the Crown.

"You're an open minded person, yes?" The Doctor asked. "Considering everything you've seen on this island?"

"Of course, my mind has... become more open to strange, new things." He replied, how could he not be? He has met a Goddess, he is her prophet, and then he is friends with this man before him, who always looks the same, always says such strange things, traveling about and never giving word of when he arrives and when he leaves.

It's like he doesn't exists but always exists at the same time.

"Would you believe me if I said I am not of this world?"

Malcolm nearly laughed at the question, but stopped himself at the look on the Doctor's face, how open it was. "You're serious." It wasn't a question.

"I'm not from Earth, Malcolm. I'm from a planet in a distant part of space, far from here."

"But... but you look human."

"And you look Time Lord." The Doctor responded, turning a bit to reach out, touching Malcolm's face, brushing back strands of hair that had fallen out of place. The Doctor always did like playing with his hair when he got the chance, he was a bit of a touchy man when they were alone.

Malcolm wasn't sure what to make of what the Doctor said, but his curiosity was getting the better of him. "And Time Lord is... what you are?"

The Doctor nodded, smiling a little. "Yeah, and yes, it is a bit of a pompous title, but they were a pompous people at times. Still, I miss them greatly, it was my home world. Now it's... gone. All of it, everyone, just me, all that remains is me and my blue box."

The prophet could hear a sadness in the man's voice, and he moved closer, until they were touching at the shoulders. "What happened? Why are you here?"

"I'm here exploring the the universe, and I've come to love Earth after so many long, long years of traveling." He swallowed thickly. "And... they're gone because of a war, a terrible war that didn't need to be fought."

"I understand. War is a terrible, useless thing, created by powerful people who should never have that power."

The smile grew just a bit more on his face. "You preach against it in your sermons, your island has no need for it."

"We are prosperous as an equal community."

"Yet, you are the leader."

"I give order because the Goddess speaks through me, but I try to be with my people."

The Doctor nodded. "You are a good man in your own way, Malcolm. Just don't let the power get to your head."

"And why would I do that?"

The Doctor didn't say much, his eyes returning to the sky above. "You seem to be handling the news of me not being human well." He said instead.

Malcolm huffed. "I am in contact with a Goddess who makes our crops grow and our livestock fertile. You being from a different world rather explains a lot. I've known since we first met at the docks that you were not normal, Doctor. But it is nice to have confirmation. And an explanation to your bizarre ramblings."

The other man actually laughed at this, clearly delighted with that last bit. "Those are only going to get worse, now that you have an idea of what I am." He turned, leaning up over Malcolm, before kissing him so sweetly on the lips.

This is always how it went, deep conversations with questions left forgotten, strange explanations to things the Doctor was willing to explain, then kissing. Malcolm didn't complain, he enjoyed it well enough, this man kept his life interesting outside of his duties and community.

And he liked that, very much.

"Oh!" The Doctor said, breaking away, looking up. "It's starting!"

He laid back down, still close to Malcolm, as streaks of light crossed the inky blackness of the night sky above. The Doctor was talking, explaining things to Malcolm about the shower, but Malcolm wasn't really listening.

He was thinking about his life, in this moment, how he was a prophet of a strange being, a Goddess, and how he was also the friend and secret lover of a man from beyond the stars.

How did his life get to this point? Well, he wouldn't change it, this was much nicer than what would have happened if he hadn't gotten on that ship, hadn't spoke to this man at the docks.

[ofpineapplesanddawns]

I watched a video the other day that talked about Apostle (it was a positive video, basically just explained plot elements and some stuff you might have missed), and it gave me a very sad idea for the bad time line with God Malcolm.

So, enjoy! *jazz hands*

On with the fic!

--

It wasn’t hard to find Malcolm, he was at the church. It was amazing how well it still stood, even after the fire. But then again, the Doctor didn’t miss the strong, wood-like vines that seemed to be holding things in place. He didn’t know if that was her doing or Malcolm’s.

Malcolm was sitting in a pew, reading quietly from his own gospel. The Doctor knew it was him, he could quietly hear him reading aloud the words to himself. 

“I checked out those cave drawings you showed me before, years ago.” The Doctor spoke as he sat down next to the prophet.

Malcolm quietly closed his book, setting it aside to look at the Doctor. “Why?”

“Curiosity, and a need to know something, to confirm it.”

“And that would be, dear?”

The Doctor looked into those sad eyes, why ruin a moment of clarity when they could just spend time together, forgetting that Malcolm was now a vessel for a benevolent goddess. He took the man’s hand, holding it in his own, small vines circling around his fingers as they slipped from Malcolm’s skin, from inside his sleeve.

“I read what they meant, after translating the ancient text. Took a while to read, the language has been dead for so long, and what little the goddess has spoken of it to me was not much to go off of.”

“You’re losing track, Doctor.” Malcolm frowned.

“Right, right, uhh...” He watched as a vine gently wrapped around his finger. “Malcolm, she was never a blood goddess, you know this, right?”

“... She... love requires sacrifice.”

“Love requires love, Malcolm. She was worshiped with love and admiration, with kindness and care. A blood offering would be seen as something she could accept if it was done through an act of love and devotion, but not... not as a forced gift, something in demand for so much.”

It had been painful to understand this, to finally see why things had gone wrong. The fact that Malcolm and his friends had forced the goddess into becoming a blood sacrifice deity was painful to see the truth of, but the Doctor should have known. It explained a lot.

It explained why blood stood being such a big deal to her, even though she craved it. It wasn’t what she really wanted, but it was all that she was given.

Malcolm looked haunted, his hand slipped away. “Why... why didn’t She tell me before?”

“I don’t know, Malcolm.” The Doctor said softly. “She might of thought that this is what you thought was the best way to show your thanks and love to her, but then it became everything and nothing. You became greedy and gave her something she didn’t really want, but she had no choice but to accept.”

“Dear God...” Malcolm said so quietly that the Doctor almost didn’t catch it. “Why did you tell me this..?”

“Because it was only right for you to know the truth, before...” The Doctor felt his tongue stick to the roof of his mouth. “Before you’re gone forever.”

Malcolm sat quietly, his eyes on the floor. The Doctor placed a hand on his back, gently rubbing it. He should leave, let Malcolm be alone with his thoughts, but he feared he might slip away, and who knew how long he’d be gone this time. His times of lucidity were becoming shorter and shorter.

“I... fear that if I ask for your blood now, it will be for nothing.” Malcolm finally spoke after a long silence.

“It seems to do you just fine, but if you’re not sure right now, that’s alright.”

He nodded. “Would you... show me devotion, love? Do you think that would be good for me?”

The Doctor smiled sadly, moving closer. “Only for you, never for her.” He replied quietly.

--

Yeeeaaahhhh... they went about the whole thing wrong, which makes a lot of sense, honestly. And makes for great angst fuel for me! :D 

Also, I am so sorry for the very, very subtle reference to a line from a prophet character from my favorite game. I couldn’t resist.