LOWDOWN

Name: The Doctor. The Twat with Two Hearts. Ka Faraq Gatri, the Destroyer of Worlds, John Smith, The Traveler from Beyond Time, the Sandman, the Oncoming Storm, Theta Sigma.

Age: Fifteen Hundred? Maybe? Fuck if he knows.

Personality: Abrasive, grumpy, irritated, and somehow still manages to be dashing enough to save the universe. He coaxes by less on charm these days and more sheer force of personality. He took to his new, ah, colorful vocabulary with aplomb, inventing words and phrases that even the Library can't define. He's working on toning it down. Eventually. Maybe. Though honestly, after forgetting how to fly the TARDIS, he's just going to try and fucking survive one day at a time.

He's proud, defiant, anti-authoritarian, a touch more stern than his previous incarnations. The Doctor wears his hearts on his sleeve: if he's impressed with you, he'll sing your praises for hours. If he's angry, his excrement-inducing wraith is to be feared. The language doesn't change.

CONTENT WARNING/CONTACT

This version of Twelve is very, very non-canon, and inspired by the Malcolm-Tucker-As-The-Doctor meme that's been going around tumblr since Capaldi was announced. As such, there will be a lot of swearing, cursing, cussing, and general non-PC language.

However.

I do not want to cause anybody emotional harm or turmoil. This meant to be funny, not mean! I'm trying my best to not use any sexist, racist, homophobic, or ableist slurs in my writing. I don't feel comfortable with that, and besides--even if he's got a mouth that'd make certain archeologists blush, he's still the Doctor. He's grumpy, not cruel. If I slip up, please, please, please let me know! All comments here are screened for privacy.