(Source: fabulouslyimpossible)

fawltyt0wers:

Hello Stormageddon. It’s the Doctor. Here to help. Be quiet. Go to sleep. Really, stop crying. You’ve got a lot to look forward to, you know. A normal human life on Earth. Mortgage repayments, the nine to five, a persistent nagging sense of spiritual emptiness. Save the tears for later, boyo. Oh, that was crabby. That was old. But I am old, Stormy. I am old. So near the end. You, Alfie Owens, you are so young, aren’t you? And you know right know everything’s ahead of you. You could be anything. You could walk among the stars. They don’t actually look like that, you know. They are rather more impressive. When I was little like you, I dreamt of the stars. I think it’s fair to say, in the language of your age, I lived my dream. I owned the stage, gave it a hundred and ten percent. I hope you have as much fun as I did, Alfie.

It’s funny, I thought, if you could hear me, I could hang on, somehow. Silly me. Silly old Doctor. When you wake up, you’ll have a mum and dad, and you won’t even remember me. Well, you’ll remember me a little. I’ll be a story in your head. And that’s okay; we’re all stories, in the end. Just make it a good one, eh? Because it was, you know, it was the best: A daft old man, who stole a magic box and ran away. Did I ever tell you that I stole that? Well, I borrowed it; I was always going to take it back. Oh, that box, Amy, you’ll dream about that box. It’ll never leave you. Big and little at the same time, brand-new and ancient, and the bluest blue, ever. And the times we had, eh? Would’ve had. Never had. In your dreams, they’ll still be there. The Doctor and Amy Pond and the days that never came. The cracks are closing. But they can’t close properly until I’m on the other side. I don’t belong here anymore. I think I’ll skip the rest of the rewind; I hate repeats. Live well. Love Rory. Bye bye, Pond.

(Source: lumosed)

“Please. I don’t want you to.”