measuring my life with coffee spoons

verybadgod:

episode613wasalie:

gallifreyburning:

The regeneration energy and radiation poisoning stung as it began to push through his cell walls and escape into the air. The inferno was far past the point where he could contain it; if he tried, he’d likely snuff it out altogether. Yellow-orange light cascaded from his hand like blazing mist, and he embraced the accompanying pain instead of ignoring it. It was all-consuming now, anyway, and he could no longer pretend it wasn’t there.

The holocaust was coming, preparing to obliterate every shred of his DNA, every trace of the man he was at this moment. He had been through this enough times to know how things would be different afterward. The next time he thought of Donna Noble, the new synapses in his new brain would fire, and his memories would be cast in a slightly different hue. When he recalled Rose, his new hearts would still pound, but his new body chemistry wouldn’t react exactly the same, and his very cells would no longer yearn for her quite so keenly.

Yet there’s solace in the fact that in another universe, these arms will still hold her, this soul still ache for her in this particular way, living breathing proof of how much her presence has changed me — saved me — made me whole.  

After regeneration, the Doctor would still be the Doctor, but the delicate nuances of this particular man would be lost forever. The energy flared inside of him, cresting as it began to eat away at his internal organs, tearing them apart and remaking them cell by cell.

Allons-y. Let’s go.  

It was a ridiculous thing to think — say aloud?— he wasn’t sure. He couldn’t have heard himself, anyway; his ears roared with destruction and renewal, with breaking bones and splintering cells. He had held back this regeneration long enough to help some of his friends, but there was more he needed — yearned —to do with these hands. More running to do with these legs. More wonders to see with these eyes. More sins to atone with this self. 

I don’t want to go. 

His back arched in agony, arms and legs rigid as his body dissolved into a storm of fire, every last particle bursting into oblivion and rebuilding itself, his marrow consumed with agonized itching and stinging torment. 

His last moment as this man was utterly excruciating. In the midst of the pain and destruction, one final word ghosted through these neurons and pounded through these hearts: Rose.

(via aloneinthetardiss)