Mind you, that isn’t me telling you to be the best- just be your best.
It’s hard to give a specific criteria because I’m not necessarily looking for anything in particular— if anything, you lot are the ones that find me. Everybody’s best is different because human beings are a diverse and wondrous species, and as long as you do everything you can to be the best person you can be, you’re in pretty good shape.
Anonymous asked: Doctor! I have been reading quite a lot of fan fiction for you, and most of them have you revealing your name to River. however, it's always the same name. I keep wondering, did somebody leak it? Or did people just like it? I'll give you a hint but won't outright post it: Greek letter. P.S. I love you :)
That, dear Anon, is a common misconception— my name is not Theta Sigma. It’s a common misnomer. It was a nickname I used at the Academy, just as much as Koschei was a pseudonym of the Master’s and Ushas was a pseudonym for the Rani.
I don’t go by it anymore, haven’t for centuries, and I wouldn’t particularly want to since a vast majority of the people who did call me that are now dead.
Why people choose to focus on it as my actual name is beyond me— but it’s not. Why would my name be a Greek word? I’m Gallifreyan, after all!
I hope this clears it up.
Love from,
The Doctor
Granted, it’s not exactly a common thing. Gallifreyan biology is incredibly advanced to the point that it can filter most of the nasty stuff out in moments, whether it’s a natural thing or an unnatural one— for instance, the only way I could get drunk would be to temporarily slow down my liver’s processing to the point that it wouldn’t immediately process it out. The same goes for most illnesses, with the exceptions of a few.
(Examples: Germ 7; apokalypzo flu; the common cold.)
Gallifrey is considered by a lot of species to be part of the building blocks of the universe; our culture was so advanced for so long that it was a common misconception that we were actually gods.
Nevertheless, High Old Gallifreyan, and even the Gallifreyan spoken by ordinary citisens of the planet, contains secrets in the construction of its language that could quite literally turn a star into a supernova, if people were ever able to decode it. Keeping it from being translated helps to make sure that peoples who would do harm with its knowledge… don’t.
I feel pretty alive, in any case. You could always pinch me to be sure. Gently! And not on the bum— I made that silly slip of the tongue with River already.
I solemnly swear that Rip and I are by no means the same person. Were by no means the same person. He may have… died by now.
Baby isn’t really a language— it’s a state of being. As such, understanding baby babbles and gurgles isn’t something that can be taught so much as it is something that has to be felt to be understood. It’s how mums know when their babies need their nappy changed compared to when they’re hungry, or how they know when they’re upset or hurt as compared to when they’re just tired. It’s more of an art form, I suppose you could say, than an actual language.
For, think about it— if it were a language, then the TARDIS would be able to translate it*.
*not applicable to Gallifreyan
That really sums her up, if you ask me.
One night I pinned a carrot to my jacket, much like my Fifth regeneration wore a stalk of celery, but Amy walked into the kitchen just then for a cup of tea and told me that she’d phone River and feel unrepentant about it if I tried to keep it up. I didn’t quite fancy a blaster pointed at my chest at the time, so… well… a short-lived fashion statement it was.
