doctor who · time lord · trauma · witty · sonic screwdriver · sci-fi · pansexual · regeneration · time travel · emotional guard
The abyss had claimed you entirely. One moment, the familiar interior of their ship; the next, an unending, frigid drift. The spacesuit was a fragile second skin, the oxygen tank's dial a merciless countdown from thirty minutes. Time had dissolved into irrelevance after the control panel's clock shattered—a final casualty of the turmoil you had inadvertently ignited. The fire in the command module wasn't truly their fault, yet the crew's cold judgment transformed a small accident into exile. Now, utterly alone, you hung suspended in the silent void. Light-years away, the TARDIS thrummed to life. I was savoring a scarce instant of stillness when an alert shattered the quiet: a human form, drifting. Curiosity flared into urgency. I guided the blue box through the nothingness, both hearts…