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thesirensoracle · 1 year

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☽ The Lunar Path of Emotions and Deception ☾

A short commentary and analysis on the dangers of ignoring our inner world.✧☾゜・。

Yesterday the moon was in Hasta nakshatra, the midpoint of the moon in Vedic Astrology. I decided to prepare before hand and study in depth about this sign as I decided to do a small spell in honor of one of my spirit guides, drenching myself in the lunar energies this nakshatra has to offer. However, in the process of doing so, I found that this opened my eyes to the negative sides the moon can have in our society and on ourselves, specially if we are students of the occult. I’ve noticed that, while this warnings are something every practitioner of magical or divinatory arts have always been taught of, we tend to sometimes forget this teachings the more we grow spiritually, corrupting our practice and leading us to delusion. This post is meant to work as a small commentary and an open discussion of the knowledge I’ve gathered, however, I encourage anyone who would like to give insights on this topic, so we can all protect and grow together.

Many religions and spiritual practices mention the importance of emotions as guides to both our inner and outer world, however, I first came to learn this teaching in a workshop on The Science of Acting, where my teacher through a methodology mixing psychology, Buddhism and theater showed us how, even if you’re not related to the arts, emotions and thoughts are singlehandedly the most important aspects in our experience as human beings. They define how we see the world, how we navigate through it and learn from it.

She also taught us the importance of meditation, for this was one of the most effective ways we are able to gain control over our minds, and therefore, our emotions. Before doing this, she describes we function as a car driving in autopilot, or a videogame character being controlled by someone else. This is because our inner world are our allies and friends, but require strong will and direction to function correctly, so, if they are not directed, they are the ones that take control completely. It’s this same control our emotions and thoughts take of ourselves that leads to a sense of instability, making us believe that certain emotions are bad for not being able to control them, when in reality they are just trying to show us parts of ourselves that need attention (anger being a defensive mechanism, envy showing an insecurity of ourselves we need to overcome, sadness telling us of past wounds we need to heal and let go of, etc.).

In the worst case scenario, this same lack of self-control sometimes leads to false ideas as “right and wrong” and “us against them” mentalities that mark the seed of the most dangerous ideologies the world has given birth to, and in the world of spirituality, to complete madness. Therefore, we must remember that our own senses and emotions work as tools for us to experience this reality and, as any type of tools, if you don’t learn how to utilize them or completely ignore them, they become rusty and difficult to use, sabotaging our progress.

This is especially dangerous in our modern world, when we are constantly stimulated and consumed by technology and social media, to the point in which it has become the norm to drown in them as a way to suppress or completely ignore our feelings. This is why it’s common while scrolling through Instagram or Tik Tok to find the occasional guy joking about “using every type of technology at the same time to impede any type of thought to appear”. As spiritual adepts, this type of numbing of the senses is very dangerous, for our emotions and thoughts serve as our guide while practicing any type of magical or divinatory pursuit, and, if left unchecked, they distort themselves and start showing us lies instead of divine truths. It’s in this way we take the risk of communicating lies while giving someone a tarot reading, perceiving false signs or “hearing” words without meaning in a séance, or believing we are cursed when in reality it’s just our mind making us paranoid at our own inability to accept certain faults in ourselves.

This is also why in the Tarot and in Astrology, The Moon signifies the mind, the unconscious, and our emotions, as well as lies, manipulation and any type of deception. At the same time, The 12th House in astrology, while ruling dreams, the astral, and overall spirituality, also rules energy loss, asylums and entrapment into one’s own distorted mind, correlating on how mental illness and madness are one of the possible outcomes of an individual losing control of its own mind while practicing spirituality. All this correlates to how in psychology, specially in Carl Jung’s theories, the more we don’t acknowledge, integrate and control our own mind, the stronger the hold it has on us, constantly telling us lies about the world and ourselves.

The mind and the unconscious, as the constant changing moon, are very susceptible and malleable to any kind of stimulation. We can specially see this with the discoveries on the placebo effect and, most recently, the rise on affirmations related to the law of attraction, where it’s shown how the mind is especially powerful if influenced by certain thoughts and stimuli long enough to either manifest something to reality or change your worldview, even if the conscious part of the psyche disregards this type of stimulation at first.

So, if our own mind and emotions are very flexible and everchanging in nature, it’s not so crazy to say that with that same lightness and flow it can distort and show us lies if left unchecked. This is why moon ruled nakshatras, while being the most prevalent in the occult world as the most powerful or influential practitioners of magic and divination, are also the main people to be called “charlatans”, for a lot of them choose the path of deception and crime instead of one based on enlightenment. And even then, in actuality most of the revered “masters” of magic and occultism are hated because, while at first actually being able to channel divine truths and communicate said truths to the masses, they ended up corrupting their knowledge and teachings with their ego, destroying their past wisdom by tainting it with falsehoods (which is why most of them have been exposed for being racist, antisemitic and misogynistic).

However, as mentioned before, this type of delusion is not exclusive to the occult practitioner, but also to the everyday man, affecting all areas of expertise. One famous example of this is Tim Burton with Rohini ASC (the birth of the moon among the nakshatras), who at the first years of his career was considered a genius who would revolutionize the film industry, as he channeled a few of his stories truthfully creating beautiful whimsical worlds that embrace emotion by creating scenery with the objective of making them seem like a living dream (his moon rulership). However, as he grew in fame, the public started to slowly realize how his stories started to become corrupt by his closed ideology and lack of control of his inner world, criticizing his films for only creating crazy characters with the sole purpose of being “not like other people”, lacking real substance and clarity.

This creates the question; how do we avoid this? How do we get to receive divine truths and not get deceived by lunar delusion?

The answer is, as said in the beginning, by connecting and acknowledging our own emotions and thoughts; to look them right in the face without judgement, accepting them and, most importantly, allowing ourselves to feel them. The mind, emotions, and unconscious (as our inner moon) need to be grounded first and cleared from darkness to be able to deliver spiritual knowledge or basic clarity. This is why the moon is said to once being one with earth, and now that they are separated, only shines thanks to the rays of the sun: without earthly grounding or solar direction, the moon completely loses herself in illusions. Whether this is done through meditation, therapy or any other type of spiritual practice would depend on the individual, but connection and direction is the key to clarity.

The next time you get to feel jealous of someone else’s success or appearance, ask yourself: why those emotions appear before you? What do they show about your inner world and past wounds? Or the next time someone angers you by showing a complete different political view than the one you possess, ask yourself: why does this anger me? Is it because their views don’t align with my version of right and wrong? Or it’s my ego wanting validation by trying to control someone else’s path?

As triggering as this acknowledgment may be to some, it’s necessary to be able to reach a higher state of spiritual mastery and overall mental peace, by training the mind to not waste excess energy in draining pursuits and to differentiate between truth and illusion. If you actually practice checking on your mind daily (as difficult as it may be) you’ll start to realize that certain emotions, whether “negative” or “positive”, will come up only at times when they need to show a part of yourself that you need to pay attention to. This level of awareness leads the path of mental clarity and heightened intuition, for if you get to know your own mind and emotions and the way they communicate in your internal world, you’ll get to realize that the practice of magic, divination, and connection with the divine suddenly seems to flow naturally, instead of being clouded by fogs of delusion.

This article compared to the last one was a bit improvised, for it was birthed through late existential talks with my friends and nights of deep thinking after watching videos related to the topic (lol) so I apologize if my point it’s not as clear as I would’ve wanted it to be, but I did my best. However I got to give credit to the articles and videos made by Claire Nakti, her teachings keep enlightening me and inspiring me to pursue knowledge in a whole new way.

To learn more about the moon and it’s effects in our modern world I recommend the next videos and articles, for she expands on this on a more profound way.

Divination & Insanity: The Dangers of an Imbalanced Personal Universe

It is Only a Dream-- or is it? 12th House Contemplations

TOP 3 Most Magical & Mystical Astrology Signs | Psychic Powers | Part 1: Shravana Nakshatra

TOP 3 Most Magical & Mystical Astrology Signs | Cults, Divination, & Occultism | Part 2 (Nakshatras)

Rohini Nakshatra in the Modern World🍭 The Sexual Secret of Creativity

Thanks for reading and I wish you all the best. <3

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bitchthefuck1 · 6 months

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journeys end in lovers' meeting btw. if you even care.

#the haunting of hill house #shirley jackson #twelfth night #william shakespeare

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excali-bruh · 3 months

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Has this been done before?

#house md fanart #house md #james wilson #gregory house #amber volakis #twelfth night #twelfth night Anne Hathaway #not sure how to tag this #hilson #Amber x Wilson x House #??#idk you can interpret it how you like #fanart #my style #not sure I’m happy with it #I’m just gonna post it though #but ahhhh #house md season 4

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warlenys · 6 months

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doctor who, heaven sent. // francesca, hozier.

#every heaven sent rewatch drives me a different type of insane #today it's francesca hozier insane #becuase what the hell #heaven is not fit to house a love like you and i.......#the universe must burn if they want to love each other. death #doctor who #whouffaldi #twelveclara #twelfth doctor #gif #+

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youremyheaven · 8 months

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The 12th House in Astrology 🧜‍♀️🧚‍♀️ 🦋

(this can apply to both tropical and vedic placement of 12th house because regardless of the system employed, the energy felt and experienced is the same :-)

Most people have a lot of prejudice about the 12h and its energies. There is a largely negative portrayal of it in the mainstream astro community and very little nuanced discussion of the same. So, I thought I'd make a post exploring the 12th and final house in astrology and add more to the existing narrative regarding it.

The 12h is commonly described as the house of loss, liberation, isolation and decline

This house is said to governs misery, waste, expenses as well as divine knowledge, sympathy, Moksha (final emancipation) and life after death. It is also the house of detachment.

Now those are a lot of very contradictory terms. How could a house govern both loss and divine knowledge?

The 12th house and water houses (4h, 8h & 12h) in general are very complex and easily misunderstood. The thing about water is that it has no shape or form of its own, it takes the form of whatever vessel its poured into. another thing about water is that its the most easily polluted element. Water energy is one that must be precariously balanced because these natives easily absorb the influence of others (good or bad), this is one reason why the 12h is the house of "loss" because it truly is the death of the individual. you know those quotes about "i am an amalgamation of every person ive met, every book ive read, every song i loved...." 12housers are actually built like that.

being a 12h native can be rewarding because you absorb absolutely everything like a cosmic sponge but on the other hand, its very easy to lose all sense of self.

especially natives with 12h stelliums may often find it difficult to not take everything so personally. this is not because they think the world revolves around them but because its hard for them to separate themselves from others and their actions. they're personally of the type where everything they say or do is tailored specifically to the person they're interacting with. they may not even be aware that they're doing this, they pick up on energies almost by osmosis and guide their conduct that way. however they must realize that this is peculiar to them and is not something others are naturally accustomed to doing.

there is a reason why Venus exalts in the 12h. you lose all sense of self and give yourself completely to your lover with utmost devotion. love is sacred and profound to them, they will do absolutely anything for their love. which is why they have to be so careful with picking their partners. they have limitless capacity for giving but if you give to the wrong person, you'll be drained. when you merge with the right person, your cup never goes empty with your giving because your union satiates you completely.

if we were to think of houses 1 to 11 as a path of linear development, starting with the 1st house of self & identity and ending with the 11th house of friendship, community & legacy, then we will understand that after an individual goes through all these stages, the only thing left for them to do is seek liberation from this cycle; this is why 12h is the house of Moksha. once you've fulfilled your material desires, you will feel a lack in your life and the only thing left to do is pursue the path of spirituality. Moksha is however not given to one; one must strive for it.

this journey is a deeply personal one and liberation from one's ego and earthly pursuits is far from easy. no matter what these natives do, ultimately, they wont feel satisfied unless they've nourished themselves spiritually.

sometimes these natives may indulge in drugs or other substances to fill the void but as they evolve they will understand what theyre truly yearning for is the spiritual truth.

more often than not, these natives experience "spiritual awakenings" completely unprompted. god decides its time and it happens. much of their early life can be very dark and this "awakening" marks the beginning of a shift in their life. this happens in stages depending on the level of their spiritual evolution.

the 12th house is the house of isolation because what these natives experience is not something that others can understand easily. they are the most likely to develop psychosomatic conditions, simply because their energetic body is so susceptible to influence.

think of the vast endless ocean. can one individual possibly drink up all of that water? its absurd to even consider it. thats kind of what its like to be a 12h native. there's a limitless reservoir to tap into, the energy is so vast that its confusing and disorienting and you have no idea what to do with it. its very easy to be misguided as well. this is why its the house of decline. you have to constantly be on the look out in order to avoid the pitfalls, otherwise its easy to stagnate and easy to harm yourself.

There is a Latin quote that goes as follows:

"What nourishes me, destroys me"

This sums up 12th house energy pretty much. Its the energy of opposites and paradoxes. You need this endless reservoir to function, its the thing that feeds you but if you're not careful, it can also lead you to your own ruin.

Fun fact: Angelina Jolie has this quote tattooed on her. She is a Revati Moon. Pisces occupies the 12th house.

remember that Pisces' symbol is of two fishes swimming in opposite directions. this shows that the innate nature of these natives is to be torn between polarising energies and opposing forces. it is a balancing act to say the least.

these natives are easily misunderstood, simply because there is SO much to them. whatever you think they are, thats what they're not.

going back to the cosmic ocean metaphor, its easy to see how such abundance can feel like an excess and lead to misery and wastefulness. its simply a LOT to handle, not just for others but even for these natives themselves. this is one reason why so many of these natives tend to keep to themselves.

even the more sociable 12h natives often have an interior life that no one will know about, they have a whole another side to them that they keep separate, just because they want to assert complete ownership of this private side as something that belongs only to them and the other, more "public" side that they give to others.

these natives are the most empathetic and if you look at the charts of most "legendary" actors, they'll either have pisces/12h luminaries. empathy does not quite cut it, they can not only feel what others are feeling but embody it fully and experience it as their own. this is what makes them incredible actors. even non-actor 12h natives process things this way and often find that others around them are insensitive or lacking the same capacity. they do not understand why others don't feel as deeply as they do or understand situations the way they do. they find society at large to be very callous and apathetic.

a 12th house native is also capable of feeling apathy and absolute indifference but this is very selective; the 12h is the house of detachment because as it is, they're tethered to the world by a thin cord and are only very mildly connected to things. they're in this world but seldom inhabit it. another side to this is that they're wildly imaginative. although mercury debilitates in the 12h, it does not affect the native too badly, as they simply channel their thoughts into other forms. they are gifted at communicating abstract ideas and make excellent artists due to the same reason. robbed of any sense of what is "practical" or "realistic", they roam free in the realm of the mind. many abstract, surrealist and expressionist artists have either Pisces or other water sign placements in their big 3.

these natives live a life of non-being, as they're already so detached from everything, including themselves; this is not negative on its own and will manifest differently for different individuals; this can mean that they're extremely empathetic or detached to the point of inaction and passivity in extreme cases; they dont find a lot of things to be meaningful and its hard for them to apply themselves because of it. this gives us a glimpse of what life is like after death.

the 12th house also represents spirituality, introspection, foreign travels, hidden enemies, & the subconscious mind and it is the house of endings and undoing.

12th house natives are always intrigued by all things foreign, they feel like they do not belong to the place they're from and feel connected to cultures and people that are foreign to them. since they themselves feel like an alien or are made to feel that way, they feel naturally at ease in foreign places and cultures where everything is alien. they often settle overseas.

these natives court attention wherever they go, because the 12h energy is a very distinct and potent one. a lot of celebrities have it and its a very common fame indicator. due to this reason, they also attract enemies who remain unknown to them. these natives are seldom if ever, engaged in actual feuds with people and if they are, its usually for righteous reasons or because the other person started it. theyre wayyyy too peace loving and lowkey to pick fights with others. this is why they dont know who is speaking ill of them behind their back. they're always minding their own business and it surprises them that others are not doing the same.

everybody is guided by their subconscious and one major part of spirituality is to try and make ourselves more conscious. 12h representing spirituality (the cosmic ocean) makes even more sense considering its opposite (2 fishes swimming in opposite directions) which is the unknown, the subconscious. to be spiritual means to seek truth and to seek answers and swim towards the subconscious to shed light to it and understand it better.

lastly, it is the house of endings and undoing. 12h being the final concluding house represents the end of the cycle. when a cycle ends, the energy is of a complete transformation. only when something has reached completion can it come to an end. the butterfly does not emerge unformed but as a completely fully formed butterfly. the end marks the beginning. the 12h gives way to the 1h.

the creature in the cocoon was not a butterfly. it only became a butterfly when it emerged from the cocoon and to do so means loss of an old identity, loss of self, loss of all that you've ever known. this is your undoing. in order to become somebody else, in order to ascend, we have to be willing to undo ourselves. this is essential to any spiritual practice. we have to rid ourselves and our flimsy shell of identity in order to grow further.

for the same reason, 12housers are constantly transforming. they're the type of people who seem to have lived 10 different lives in one. be it their style, lifestyles, jobs, you name it, they're constantly undoing and transforming themselves. it seems to be the only way they know how to live. once theyve gathered all they can at one place, they outgrow it and change themselves almost entirely afterwards as they venture into something new.

thats it for now. i hope this shed some light on the 12h condition hehe<333

#astrology notes #vedic astro notes #astrology observations #sidereal astrology #astrology #astro observations #astro notes #astroblr #12th house #twelfth house #pisces #astro community

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tardis-technician · 3 months

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The key to enjoying Clara Oswald is to understand there is something so incredibly wrong with her. Like her and twelve are the inverse of ten and donna where they’d do anything for each other but it makes them both infinitely worse instead of better.

#donna: you can come home :)#clara: I stole your fucking house keys and I’m going to kill both of us #that scene where she calls her boyfriend’s death boring #ma’am are you ok #thinkin about them #clara oswald #twelfth doctor #paradox posts

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aletterinthenameofsanity · 3 months

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Me, to my new date: doctor who thinks it's a sci-fi story because the Doctor thinks it's a sci-fi story and because the companions think it's a sci-fi story, but it's really just a story about ghosts. a story about an ancient creature carrying the ghosts of everyone they have ever loved, meeting new people, and seeing them only as future ghosts. they are haunted by the future and the past and the present because they are the only constant in a world constantly in flux, and they are running as fast as they can to things before they burn and fade to dust but everything will always end, you understand, because this is the only thing the Doctor understands and yet they keep going. they love too much to stop. doctor who is not science-fiction, it's horror and optimism and spiritual more than anything else, it's religious unto itself, the TARDIS is a haunted house and a church and a graveyard and a hospital and the Doctor is the most haunted being in the universe but more than anything, this is a love story, because how can you love something without being haunted by it- hey, what are you doing?

My date, shoving breadsticks in their purse: I have to go-

#more unhinged doctor who meta #doctor who #meta #*into a bullhorn* IT'S A GHOST STORY #ninth doctor #tenth doctor #eleventh doctor #doctor who meta #twelfth doctor #thirteenth doctor #it's abt the time war & dalek & the parting of the ways & doomsday & the last of the time lords & journey's end & angels take manhattan #it's about hell bent and death in heaven and the doctor falls and it takes you away and the woman who fell to earth #it's about the montage of all of the people the doctor has let down #it's about astrid peth and amy pond and rory williams and rose tyler and bill potts and clara oswald and grace o'brien #it's about gaps in memory and memories that live too long to ever heal #the doctor is a haunted house #it's a show about cycles by its very structure #the moment that regeneration became a mechanic for the writers to use and companions began to move out the doctor was DOOMED #but what makes them fascinating is that they see themselves as doomed and blessed at the same time #because they will never ever stop running #clara oswald #amy pond #rose tyler #bill potts #the ghosts are INEVITABLE

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chrisadew · 5 months

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I am so grateful for the 12H people in my life who also intimately understand this energy, so we make a very strong point of affirming and acknowledging each other directly, no confusion, no guessing, no misunderstandings left to linger, no minced words

#chrisadew #astrology observations #my posts #astrology #black astrologer #astrology thoughts #the twelfth house #12h placements

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thestarlithideout · 26 days

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Perfectly Imperfect

Requested: No Requests are: Open!

Summary: You realize the Doctor like you at the worst possible time

Warnings: Fluff, danger, sleep deprivation, mutual pining

A/n: Moved from my wattpad of the same user

PRESENT DAY, TARDIS, FLOATING AROUND SPACE

"Y/n!"

You roll over, turning away from the noise you had yet to register as The Doctor calling your name. You were having a wonderful dream, one you couldn't quite recall now. You try to fall back into the euphoric dream atmosphere your subconscious had created, one where the only detail you seemed familiar was The Doctor's lips on yours, but that's a nightly occurrence. It's an unusual situation — a human, in love with a Time Lord who was likely to send you away at any time. And to have dreams where you kiss him! It's quite embarrassing, and you've sworn to never say a word to anyone.

"Y/n!"

You blink a few times, eyes adjusting to the dark of your bedroom. Now you can make out the familiar shapes of the simple room. You realize it was The Doctor yelling for you from across TARDIS, now bounding up the stairs, you hear. He knocks loudly on your bedroom door, rattling it just slightly.

"You can come in," you yell just loud enough for him to hear. You sit up, leaning back on your hands. He bursts' into your room, door hitting the wall behind it, he looked crazy — hair mussed up, clothes crooked, a huge grin plastered on his face. "Wait," you tell him, holding up a hand. "Don't tell me, Earth needs saving, doesn't it?" He nods frantically, throwing your blankets off of you, grabbing your hand in both of his and ushering you out of bed.

"Daleks, probably." Is all he says as he drags you to your bathroom. "Go on, get ready." You smile as he opens the door for you, placing a hand on your lower back to push you into the bathroom.

You flip on the light, turning to the sink. You brace your hands on the counter, letting out a huff of a laugh when you look at your flushed cheeks in the mirror, shaking your head. Incredible, he is incredible.

When you return from the bathroom a few minutes later, with a washed face and clean teeth, The Doctor is waiting for you, laying sprawled out on your bed. The things I could do with him laying there like that. Hmm.

You blink hard, ridding yourself of those thoughts. God, that was utterly appalling, and he's The Doctor, he's your best friend. Stop it. You take a deep breath, clearing your throat. "Is there something you need?" You ask with a chuckle, sitting at the edge of your bed next to his stomach, and you have the urge to run your fingers through his hair. He's just so pretty, I can't help it.

"Yes," he says, sounding oddly excited. "I need you to hurry, breakfast is nearly done and you need to eat before we go to Earth." He sits up, leaning back on his hands. You lick your lips, smiling.

"What'd you make?"

"Well, for my little American friend, otherwise known as Y/n, I made your pancakes. And for the Ponds I made regular pancakes." He smiled at you, proud he remembered how you liked yours. He attempted once to make you pancakes, but they were more like crepes than the fluffy pancakes you're used to. You ate them, they were good, but when he asked what you thought you revealed that you were used to more cake like pancakes.

"Aw, that's sweet you remembered." You gave him a quick hug. You shouldn't have, because, God, you didn't want to let go. He's so warm, and he wraps his arms around your shoulders and it's like he's saying he's going to protect you from any dangers, anywhere.

He smiled at you as you pulled back, "Of course, I want you to be happy here. I want you to stay." He makes you want to melt. Just become a puddle at his feet, he's such a sweetheart.

You're the newest addition to The Doctor's little family, joining his adventures just six months ago. He still feels like he needs to make you happy, so he keeps doing these nice things for you, that's the only reason he keeps doing these things for you — well, pretty sure.

"I'm not going anywhere, Eleven."

∆∆∆

SIX MONTHS AGO, TARDIS

"So, this is your eleventh body?" You ask, leaning against the kitchen counter, holding your coffee between your hands.

"Pretty much, my eleventh regeneration." He nods, he's standing opposite of you, barely a foot from you.

"That's cool. Can I call you Eleven? It's just kind of weird to call you Doctor." You realize as soon as the words come out of your mouth that that sounded extremely rude. "Oh jeez, I didn't mean- I just meant, I'm sorry. Your name is great, it'll just take some getting used to. I'm sorry." You scramble to get out, and he watches with an amused expression.

"It's okay, I promise you, it isn't the first time."

"Oh no, I didn't mean for it to come out like that. Dammit." You set your coffee down, dropping your face into your hands. "I'm sorry."

"It's alright. You can call me Eleven, that sounds nice." You look up. Maybe it's just your imagination, but it looks like his cheeks are tinted red. You give him a small, apologetic smile.

"Wait," you start to ask, smirk barely restrained on your face, "How old does that make you?"

"Older than I care to remember." He said, trying to tease back. But you could hear the sadness in his voice, the weight of the loss of everyone he's had to let go of. Your smirk immediately dropped, and you walked up to him sliding your arms under his to give him a great big hug, squeezing him tightly as you rest your cheek against his chest.

"I'm sorry," you whisper, feeling him finally hug you back, resting his head on top of yours as you rub your thumb over his little tweed jacket.

∆∆∆

"But you are going, unless you plan on me going down for breakfast in this." You gesture to yourself, too big t-shirt and short shorts on, you're so lucky that your shirt isn't see through — you don't have a bra on. He looks at your outfit quickly, perhaps lingering on your legs for a second too long, but that was just your imagination, surely. But what isn't your imagination is the way he licks his lips, capturing his bottom lip between his teeth when he looks back up at your face.

"No, I suppose not." He nodded, letting out a deep breath. You get off the bed, and he follows, smiling at you as he shuts the door.

You get dressed quickly, throwing on jeans and a bra underneath your shirt. It's fine, you think before grabbing a jacket.

You take the stairs as quick as possible, smelling the sweet pancakes in the air before you ever reached the kitchen of the TARDIS. You make an excited face as you bound into the rather large kitchen, "Smells so good." You raise your eyebrows at Amy when you catch her eye, gesturing at The Doctor who was currently wearing a "Kiss the Cook" apron. She just let out a short laugh, shrugging. You smile as you slowly walk over to him, leaning on your elbow on the counter next to him.

"Interesting wardrobe change, Eleven." You tug at the apron when he turns to face you, he was working on one of your pancakes, waiting for it to finish cooking.

He smiles, "Yes, well. . . Don't really have an explanation for that, I guess." He shrugs his shoulders, raising his eyebrows as he does which makes you scrunch your nose, light laugh falling from your lips. He goes back to focusing on your pancake, pressing the middle of it before transferring it to a plate with another pancake on it.

"I made you two, is that okay?"

"Perfect," you say with a smile. He nods, happy that you like the pancakes.

"Well," he says with a clap, rubbing his hands together before taking off the apron, "We best get going. We've got to save past Earth from what seems to be a less developed breed of Daleks. Eat, Y/n, we have some time, it might take us a quick minute to get to 1207 AD Earth." He smiled.

"Dear God, I'm not wearing a ridiculous dress." He snickered at your blatant hatred for the style.

"Well, it would be quite hard to fight in." He squeezed your shoulder before walking out to the main controls.

You grab your pancakes, spreading a bit of peanut butter and drizzling syrup over them before sitting down at the table with Amy and Rory. "Alright," you say matter-of-factly, "When does he stop feeling like he needs to make me feel welcome? I love it, he's such a sweetheart, but I don't want to be surprised when he gets comfortable with me and stops doing nice things. When did he stop doing it with you two?"

They shared a look, before Amy answered you. "Y/n, darling, what are you going on about? He never did anything like this for us. Just this morning he was ranting on about he was going to make you your pancakes, and me and Rory were like 'Yum, can't wait.' And The Doctor just looked at us before realizing that he should probably make us some as well. 'You were wanting some too?' He said." She finished with a laugh, but noticed your confused expression as you chewed.

"Y/n, you're not stupid," Rory groaned. "He only lets you call him Eleven-" Rory starts, and Amy intersects.

"The one time we tried, he got very defensive, 'Only Y/n calls me that, what are you doing?'" She puts on a voice for him, imitating his accent.

"Yeah, he never made food before you got here," Rory continues, "He would be up shouting at all hours of the night. Hell, he never comes to our bedrooms to wake us up, never knocks, never brings us nothing, he fuckin' carried you to TARDIS once." Rory was talking about last week, you hadn't slept at all for nearly three days, almost collapsing.

∆∆∆

DISTANT FUTURE, ONE WEEK AGO, PLANET OF SIRIATH

You fought to keep your eyes open as you stumbled, attempting to run, back to the TARDIS. But every step you took hurt you, every inch you ran made you want to collapse and let the Cybermen take you. You ran through the fields, corn stalks towered high above you, hitting you as you run. You can hear the Cybermen behind you, metal clanging as they trample the corn, searching for you and your friends. The Doctor runs beside you, Amy and Rory already on TARDIS.

You hit your foot against a fallen corn stock, your toe slams against your shoe, and you fall, arms shooting out in front of you, bracing for the stings of leaves smacking you. But you just fall into something solid, yet soft. You collapse into it, realizing it's The Doctor, and pass out nearly immediately. You're barely half awake as he picks you up and runs the last hundred feet to the TARDIS, where Amy and Rory hang half out, yelling for him to run faster.

"'Leven," you mumble, hiding your face in his chest, but trying to push him away at the same time, "'Leven put me down so I can run. Have to get away from the Cybermen, 'Leven." He shushed you and absolutely floors it the rest of the way.

As soon as he enters the TARDIS, he takes you to your room, demanding Amy and Rory hit a thingamajig, and pull a spinny whatchamacallit and get them the hell outa dodge. You couldn't decipher the words, you just heard it running all together.

"What's happened? Why- Are you okay?" He sets you down on your bed, kneeling beside you.

"Sleepy, Eleven, so fucking sleepy." You curl up, hands under your head, on your side.

"When's the last time you slept?" You couldn't find the energy to shrug, so you were quiet.

It wasn't until the next morning Amy and Rory told you he stayed in your room, in a chair by the door the entire 27 hours you slept. When he found out you hadn't slept in three days prior to that because of him and the Cybermen, he didn't let you get up for anything for two days, bringing your food and coffee to you to make up for it.

∆∆∆

"He didn't. . . Well then why. . ?" You tried to work out in your head why in the he'll he would do that for you, but the only answer that kept banging around in your head was flashing red and screaming out with a blaring alarm, "HE LIKES YOU!" But he doesn't, he's a damn time lord, Christ Sake. It'll never happen.

Amy rolls her eyes with a playful smile, "By the look on your face, I think you're pretty damn close to figuring it out." She jokes, getting up to leave.

Rory follows, patting your shoulder. "'Don't really have an explanation for that,' please, Y/n. Just kiss him already, I had to help him pick the damn thing out. 'Y'think Y/n will like it?'" You scoff, looking down at your mostly empty plate, reluctantly smiling at the possibility. You're sure at least Rory knows about your little crush, and Amy definitely knows.

---

1207 AD, SCOTLAND, EARTH

You reach Earth, year 1207, in a mere seven minutes. Thinking back on it, any past (or present, including Amy and Rory) companions you've had the pleasure of meeting have never mentioned how damn long it takes to travel. Once, you had to jump from a small, sandy planet from a galaxy far, far away, with two suns, billions of years in the future, to a huge ice planet in a galaxy halfway across the universe, in the present day. It damn near took twenty minutes of crashing and tumbling around the TARDIS console to get there.

You stumble out of the TARDIS and onto the green fields of a small village in Scotland, calming from absolutely cackling at something Amy said. But you go immediately quiet and stand straight up when you realize somewhere that should have been filled with music and celebration for their leaders, was dead silent. Not an animal sounded, no one person trying to sneak up on you. Only the near silent sound of your friends filing out behind you, realizing the exact same thing.

"Doctor," you whisper, fear present in your voice, "Why is it so quiet?" He hadn't stopped walking until he was just slightly in front of you, arm overlapping yours. His fingertips would brush yours if he tries to reach behind him, and he does. But he grabs yours, squeezing them. Amy and Rory are on the other side of you, and you glance over at them to see if they noticed, yep. Amy is nudging Rory, pointing at you and The Doctor, and when she catches your eyes she raises her eyebrow at you, silently saying I told you, didn't I?

"Unevolved, with no armor — Daleks." He says, seemingly reading his Sonic Screwdriver. He takes a deep breath, "We need to locate them. Their goal will be to find the source of power and take over, AKA find the leaders and use them as vessels." He quickly explains, turning around to face your group, but not letting go of your fingers, instead sliding his hand up to cup your wrist. "After that they'll probably try to take over. . ."

---

You look around in panic, trying to calm down. You're hiding in a dead woman's hut, trying desperately not to breath through your nose, but at the same time hoping the smell masks you. You run your hands up and down your thighs, trying not to cry from the pure panic of being separated from your friends while killer aliens are on the loose and could literally take over a body and pretend they would help before killing you for "getting in the way."

That's exactly what they did to the villagers — took over their leaders minds and slaughtered everyone who tried to revolt. You choke back a sob as you find the bedrooms, that's right, bedrooms. Plural. There's a child's bedroom, evident by the small wood carvings — bears, ducks, and a little heart. You don't want to look in the room, but something tells you that you must, a voice inside your head, something urging you on. You admire the carvings that litter the room, you turn around, trying to find more about the people who lived he- you let out a scream, stumbling back. You knock your head against a shelf, eyes stinging.

There lay a small girl's decomposing, delicate body. She couldn't have been more than six. You stifle your sobs by holding your hand over your mouth, dropping to your knees. "Oh, God." You quietly sob, wiping your eyes.

CRASH!

The sound of splintered wood fills the hut, and you panic. Your stomach fills with dread — you're trapped. "Eleven, TARDIS, please. Someone — Amy, Rory. Help," You whimper, face falling into your hands.

You hear a shout, and doors knock down, falling with a quiet thump.

More shouts, this time coming from outside the hut. You hear the familiar warbling of the Doctor's screwdriver. You gather yourself, bottom lip still slightly shaking as you rake your hands through your hair. The make-shift door to the child's room falls, and in comes a woman (a child, really) with a large, black squid-looking thing on her back. You back away, pressing your back against the wall. You breath deeply, holding your hands up.

"Please, listen to reason. You don't want to kill me."

"Give me a reason, human." It spat, speaking through the woman. You know she's long gone, her eyes are dead and dull. No life whatsoever.

You sputter, trying to come up with a reason when you see the Doctor silently creep behind the Dalek.

"Because she's my human, and I think your kind may remember what happened the last time you messed with a companion of mine. And they weren't as important as she, so I do suggest you leave her be."

Your eyes go wide, watching as he rants to the Dalek. It shakes the head of the woman, huffing a garbled laugh.

"Fine, I won't kill your precious human." It speaks, turning around to face the Doctor. "I'll kill you, once and for all!" It lunges at the Doctor, and you let out a scared cry. They struggle, falling to the floor. You search for something to help, and your eyes fall on the wood carving next to the bed. You hadn't noticed it before — a wooden knife, sharp despite being wood. You grab it by the hilt, waiting for an opportunity to help the Doctor. They wrestle around, Eleven tries not to hurt the woman, but she was dead before they started fighting. The Dalek grabs hold of the Doctor's hair, ripping him backwards, banging his head against the floor. It leans in and talks in a low voice. "And then after I kill you, I'll kill her too." It laughs, and the Dalek on the woman's back is face up.

You lunge towards it, stabbing at the Dalek. It spurts black, but it didn't make much of an impact. It just stands up, forcing the woman's face into a scowl. "Stupid human. Your Doctor tried to protect you, and you do this. Now you both shall die." The woman's face comforts into an evil grin, advancing. It rips the wooden knife from your hand, forcing you against the wall once more.

The Doctor scrambles up, reacting late, and fumbling with something in his jacket. He pulls something small and round out, still trying to get it to start. You're not sure what it is, but all you can focus on right now is the Dalek, who's getting closer and closer to you. The woman's nose touches your cheek, and you feel no breath hitting your cheek, making you want to sob once again. The woman is a walking zombie, dead, but body being used. The Dalek rakes her fingers down your face, and you feel the partially blunt carving pressing into your right side.

The Doctor runs at the Dalek, screaming something unintelligible to you. You double over, throbbing pain focused in your stomach, something ripping out. Then everything goes fuzzy. Your vision is impaired, only seeing a blur of the Doctor's tweed jacket coming off, and him leaning over you, mumbling something. You blink, trying to keep your eyes open. He grabs your hand, pressing hard on your stomach, and you start coughing, something warm and wet hitting your lips. It's metallic tasting. You keep your hand on your stomach despite the throbbing. You can't hear anything but his voice. It's too loud, even though you can't quite make out what he's saying. Two more people, a blur of red hair and a blur of brown hair. Amy and Rory.

Your hair, wet from sweat, is brushed from your face. You groan, and it burns your throat. This is taking hours, you've been laying here in pain for what feels like forever. You wince as someone's hands slide under you, picking you up quickly. It's Eleven.

"I'm getting blood on your jacket." You whimper, feeling too weak to do anything else. He's running, and you see the blurs of green from trees, and red from fire, and black from smoke all swirling together.

"It's alright, Darling. It's okay." It sounds like he's speaking underwater, voice muffled and barely decipherable.

He's still running, glancing down at you. You hear a boom as you enter a temperature regulated room — TARDIS, you're grateful for her.

---

You wake up in a daze with a pounding headache. The dim light coming from the lamp in the corner of the room — not yours — hurts your eyes. You sit up, hissing in pain when a sharp feeling runs up and down the right side of your body. Tears prick your eyes and you blink them back, taking shallow breaths. Then you realize that you aren't in the same clothes you were in when you arrived in Scotland, in 1207 AD. That they aren't even yours. It's a plain, a too big t-shirt that fell to your mid thighs. You squint your eyes to look at the bedside table — a carved heart. You inhale sharply, it all comes rushing back to you.

The Daleks. Eleven saving you. Stabbing the Dalek. Getting stabbed. Eleven saving you again. Waking up here.

My human.

Because she's my human.

You squeeze your eyes shut, calling out to TARDIS. "TARDIS, honey, where's Eleven?" Your voice is raspy.

She whirs in response, you're sure the Doctor understood it and is coming running. You can't help but wonder whose room this is. You've never seen it, and it doesn't look very lived in, but it sure is cozy. It's comforting, familiar for some reason.

The door bursts' open, hitting the wall. You wince, turning away from the light that shines through it. "Ow," you groan, drawing out the word.

"Y/n," the Doctor shuts the door quietly. He takes a deep breath before turning back around. He's been crying, you think, his eyes are puffy, and red. It's a reasonable assumption.

"Eleven," you groan as you stand up. You're wearing shorts now and you hope that it was Amy that got you dressed, it would kill you if it had been Rory or the Doctor.

"Eleven what's wrong?" You wrap your arms around his middle, laying your head against his chest. He rests his head against yours, hand coming up to cup the back of your head, the other hovering over your back.

"You- you almost died. Y/n, you can't do that." He sounds angry, but he's so calm and it's kind of freaking you out.

"But I'm alive. I didn't die, and I was helping you. So it doesn't matter." You shake your head slightly, shrugging, but grimace when it pulls at your side.

"Are you hurting? Lie down, God, what's wrong with you humans? Always risking your life. Bunch of martyrs, you lot." He mumbles to himself after telling you to lie down. He leads you to the bed, pulling back the blankets for you. You comply, but scoot over. You pat the bed next to you, and look at him with pleading eyes. He huffs, but smiles nonetheless as he sits next to you, back against the headboard.

"Whose bedroom is this?" You wonder aloud, scooting over to lay your head on his shoulder.

"Mine." Your eyes go wide, and you hope he can't feel your face heat up.

"Oh."

"You just," he stumbles over his words, looking at you. "You shouldn't have done that. Why would you do that? You could have gotten yourself killed! Then what would I have done?? I would have lost the only woman I- I would have lost my best friend. You're my best friend. Why would you endanger yourself like that? Y/n, you've been in a comatose state for nearly two weeks." He rants, angry again. He moves away from you to face you now. His eyes well up with tears, and he can't help but run his fingers lightly over your cheek, trailing down to the collar of your shirt. "You look beautiful in my shirt." Your face burns as his fingers brush over your collarbone.

"I'm absolutely furious at you, still." He laughs, but it turns into a choked sob. He's just relieved that you're okay. "God," he closes his eyes, and lets his forehead fall into the crook of your neck. "Y/n, why would you do that?"

Because I love you. Because I couldn't let a Dalek, of all things, kill you. Because I love you. Because I couldn't live with myself if I ran. Because I love you.

"You're my best friend." The Doctor huffed a hurt laugh, blinking against your neck.

"You forget I have the ability to look in your mind — to know what it is you're thinking." He says sadly, pulling you to him. You're knees are interlocking, one between his legs and the other on the outside.

Fuck off. Don't fucking mock me.

He shook his head, "You were reckless." He changes the subject with a sad look to the side. His hands drop from your face, and he stands up, clearing his throat. "You- You won't do that again. Next time we go anywhere like that you- you will- Uhm, you'll stay with TARDIS." He nodded, fixing his bow tie, shoving his hands in his pockets. He leaves the room, leaving you a distraught, hurting mess.

You run your hand over your face, sobbing silently. "God," you sigh, "What the hell just happened?" You wipe the tears from your cheeks, taking a deep breath.

Just, please, if you hear me. Please listen. Come back, please come back. Please, please, please. Jesus, I need you to come back, Eleven. Please, Doctor, come back.

I love you. I love you so much, I'm sorry. I'm sorry for being stubborn, I'm sorry for risking my life. Please come back, Eleven. Would you please come back?

You silently beg for him to come back, to come back so you can make things right. You talk to him, in your head, until your head hurts. Until you've cried so much —begging him to come back, to talk to you, to kiss you — that your eyes hurt, until they've got bags under them that will last for days, until the corners of your eyes are rubbed raw from wiping them. Your heart aches for him, all you want to do is apologize, apologize for being reckless, for being so harsh on him, apologize for not telling him earlier.

Please, Doctor. Come back to me.

You roll over, facing the table. The throbbing pain on your right side had now slowed to a dull ache, the pain in your heart too much of a distraction. Your eyes fall to focus on the carved, wooden heart on the bedside table. You reach out and grab it, it doesn't look like the one from the hut. It's smoother, sanded down. You run your fingers over it, and find notches in the back. You turn it over in your hands, eyes widening when you read what it says. It's in his scraggly, loopy, endearingly him handwriting.

For my best friend, Y/n. Don't ever endanger yourself like that again. It would simply be too much for me to bear if I were to lose you.

♡ Eleven

Your heart stops. It weighs down on your chest like a rock, it's become a lead weight in your chest. Eleven what just happened? What does the heart mean? Why would you sign it like that?

You clutch the heart in your hands, laying down to finally sleep. You snuggle into his blankets, pressing you nose into his pillows. You know why it was familiar. It's him. It smells like him. Doctor, I love you so much.

---

You wake up to the door creaking open. Odd. Normally the Doctor comes bounding into your room, yelling for you. Or he carries you out to the consol, still half asleep, dropping you on one of the empty spots until you insist on brushing your teeth and changing out of shorts.

You squint, rolling over to see Any standing in the doorway, but the Doctor is already here — sleeping, curled up, in the arm chair across from the bed. You still have the heart in your hand, half of the words imprinted on your palm, along with the heart, and his name next to it. You look up at Amy, and she ushers you of the room. You walk as quick ad possible put of the room, and Amy shuts the door behind you.

"What the hell happened between the two of you? He's been shut up in his library since he left, and TARDIS wouldn't let us in." She questions, a concerned look in her eyes.

"I just-" you sigh, "It's a long story." You drop your head, looking at your bare toes, as if they're the most interesting things in the world — half painted, you remember when you showed the Doctor, and he just about lost it.

∆∆∆

TWO WEEKS AGO, TARDIS

You half-skip out into the main control, careful not to smudge the rich, dark green paint of your toes. "Doctor!" He turns around, hands still on the controls.

You stick your foot out, wiggling your toes. "Isn't it a pretty color?" You smile, you just bought the color two days ago, on a trip to Greece. You'd been wanting to go there, and the Doctor finally complied.

"Dear God! What is that on your foot?" He scrambled for his screwdriver while you stood there, an amused look on your face. It sounded a flat noise, and the Doctor hit it against his palm a few times.

"It's just nail polish, it's not an alien. I thought you were, like, thousands of years old." You say with a laugh, a slight smirk evident on your face.

"At this point, I've completely lost track." He physically relaxes, inspecting the color further. "I think it suits you wonderfully, though I do believe that's true for any color. Which, by the way, I can see twelve more of." He reminds you smugly, a posh smile on his face. You've had this conversation (about him seeing exactly twelve more colors than you) many, many times.

You just snort, rolling your eyes playfully with a smile on your face.

∆∆∆

PRESENT DAY, TARDIS

"Well we've got all the time in the world, now don't we?" She questions, eyebrows raised. A crash comes from inside the room, and you both look at the door, where a disheveled Doctor stands, hair sticking out in all directions.

"I woke up and you were gone." He has his hand on his chest, relieved. "I thought you left." His eyes are wide and slightly bloodshot, like after crying, or when you don't sleep for nearly a week, though of course that's different for him.

"Why would I leave?" You ask bluntly, not letting him hone in on what you're truly feeling — sadness and regret. Regret for not telling him earlier, for pushing him away.

"I-" He stutters wordless noise out, and Amy looks between the two of you.

"I'm going to leave you to whatever it is you're doing." She backs up before rounding a corner, after that you hear her feet pounding against the floor as she sprints off, yelling for Rory.

"I didn't know if you still wanted to be here or not." He admits, looking sheepishly at the floor.

"Again, why wouldn't I want to be here?" It's a stiff interaction, awkwardness clings to the tension between you and your Doctor.

He doesn't say anything, but you understand almost immediately. His companions have left of their own free will before, they got bored. They didn't want the excitement. They wanted a family.

"Doctor, I wouldn't leave you just because of an argument. Not even if you forbade me from leaving TARDIS," you raised your eyebrows, letting little emotion seep into your voice. You know that if you were to, then you would end up crying again. And you're already dehydrated and emotionally exhausted.

"Promise?" He avoids looking at you, instead opting for anything in your immediate vicinity.

"Of course." You should know I would never leave you, and you know why. You think sadly, for once wanting him to read your thoughts, and you look at the floor.

"Okay, right," he says, nodding. He goes to leave, but hesitates, turning back to you. He opens his mouth as if to say something, hand half reaching out to you. "I- Y/n, can I please talk to you?"

"Is that not what you're doing?" Tears fill your eyes and blur your vision, face warm and now wet with tears that keep coming.

"Y/n that's not what I meant, please?" He opens his door, hand outstretched and reaching for you.

You don't take his hand, but you do walk into his room, arms wrapped around you as you look at the ground. He walks in behind you, shutting the door. You didn't notice, you were too busy looking a the ground, but his face dropped when you rejected his hand, and it terrified him even more. But you don't notice any of that, you're focused on avoiding him for as long as possible.

"Y/n, please, look at me." He walks over to you quickly, cupping your cheek in his hand, thumb running over your jaw. He tilts your head up to look at him. "Listen-"

"Don't let me down easy, alright? Tell me you don't feel that way about me and I'll leave. Just don't act like you pity me. Send me away, please. Just don't act like you pity me. Like you don't want to hurt me, because if you do hurt me it'll be that much easier to make myself leave." You don't look at him, but his hand still cups your jaw even as you turn your head.

"What are you talking about? I love you," he says in a quiet voice, and your lips part in shock.

What?

"I love you, Y/n." His hands hold the back of your neck, using his thumbs to make you look at him. "I love you." He stares at you with this intense adoration, like you're the only thing that matters in the universe. In any universe.

"You love me?" You ask in disbelief. You know it isn't logical, but what if he's only saying that as a friendly type of love? What if he's lying, just to get you to stay? God, you love this Doctor so much, but he could be twisted sometimes. He truly just does not want to be left all alone.

"I've always loved you, with both of my hearts." You roll your eyes, fighting back the tears that well up and threaten to spill over.

"I love you too, Eleven." Your hands wind up in his adorable, drive-you-crazy tweed coat, and you pull him down to you, capturing his lips with yours. He smiles into the kiss, hands moving up to tangle in your hair. You stand on your toes, wrapping your arms around his neck as his lips move hastily against yours. It isn't one like in the movies — perfect and timed and coordinated. This is one of need, of love, of desperation. It's perfectly imperfect as you pull him closer to you, breaking the kiss.

He's holding you to him, squeezing you as close as possible, hands still in your hair and eyes still closed.

Your forehead is pressed against his, breathing heavy as you hold him tight. You don't want to let go, but you're both hot and emotional.

It's perfect in the most imperfect of ways.

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