sanctamater: The galaxy resides in her gaze.

; send me a six word story describing my muse.

posted 8 hours ago with 2 notesreblog
✎ Anonymous: She walks with galaxies behind her.

; send me a six word story describing my muse.

posted 8 hours ago with 2 notesreblog
heresyourdamnfries: She is time and the stars.

; send me a six word story describing my muse.

posted 8 hours ago with 0 notesreblog
; send me a six word story describing my muse.

(Source: askboxmemes)

posted 9 hours ago with 59,945 notes
via: agentclntbrtn ♱ source: askboxmemesreblog


         If the Doctor was at all surprised or intimidated by Carson’s incredulous
         arrival he didn’t let it show, but he did straighten up a bit, smiling a patient,
         friendly smile at his boss. He might not have felt the typical fear that most
         others did at the prospect of Carson’s professional rage — but he did
         genuinely like the man. He certainly wasn’t going to be impolite.

         “Sorry! Yes, polished silver. Very important, the silver polishing. I just got
         sidetracked, talking about fish. Well, using admittedly convoluted metaphors
         that involve fish. Was it really that crude?”

         He directed the last question towards Mary, turning to look curiously at her,
         expression soft and humoured. It took him a moment to realise that Carson
         was still in the room, and he swiftly turned back.

         “Right! Mediocre fish language aside! I’ve got a job to do! Enjoy your breakfast,
         ah, Lady Mary. I’d best be on before Carson decides to use my head for tennis
         practise. Do you play tennis, Carson?”

                          “Mn. If truth be told; I’ve heard cruder, Mr. Smith.
You must learn to up your game.” Mary flashed him
                          a polite smile. It would seem that their conversation
                          was at an end. There was a note of finality in her tone
                          that she knew the old butler would approve of. For a
                          moment, Smith’s friendly demeanor caught her off
                          guard; most servants, save for Carson and Anna, of
                          course, tended to avoid her like the plague. She took
                          an odd satisfaction in being quite so intimidating.

                          Perhaps it was a good thing that Carson had stepped
                          in when he did - Smith clearly had work to be getting on
                          with, and she had a breakfast prepared by Mrs. Patmore
                          that needed eating. She took a seat at the closest table.
                          “Thank you,” she inclined her head, respectful, “I certainly
                          hope that wasn’t the last conversation you and I have.”
                          Mary found herself surprised at the statement, more than
                          anything, surprised at the fact that she had meant it.

                           ”Good day.”

(Source: romanaofheartshaven)

posted 1 day ago with 16 notes
via: bowtied ♱ source: romanaofheartshavenreblog
bowtiedv: white shadowsq



     ”I’d imagine Leela could make most people rediscover their—
     more humble traits, so to speak, given the proper… persuasion.”

     Namely, the threat of a blade against their throat. The impressive
     part, though, was that at least half of the time Leela didn’t even
     have to draw out her weapon of choice to make her point, simply
     because the promise of it bore enough weight on its own.

     But Leela had been smart — and kind. Kinder than she let most
     people see. Her compassion could extend to anybody if she
     deemed them worthy of it, and the friendship she had formed
     with Romana, along with her marriage to a Time Lord… it was
     proof enough of that. Neither were particularly easy feats.

     The Doctor sorted through the cabinets of various medications
     until he found the sleek metallic cylinder that housed his supply
     of nanogenes. He shook it slightly, until the canister started to
     glow with a faint golden hue, then he returned to Romana’s side,
     twisting the cap.

     “It’ll be a bit cold,” the Doctor warned her, though he was sure she
      already knew that. The nanogenes circled and curled around his
     hand, reading his healthy Time Lord DNA and biology before he
     flicked them at Romana’s wound, and they delved into the damaged
      tissue to start their work.

That made Romana laugh - a proper laugh.
Full, and humorous, and hearty.  For a span,
she almost forgot the situation at hand; the
wound still throbbed uncomfortably at her side,
but she was far too distracted to notice; Leela
was a force so utterly and completely brilliant,
it was a wonder that Romana and the others
hadn’t been completely blinded by her.

They most certainly did not have the most
sooth of introductions. In fact, Leela had tried
to kill her with said blade ( it was hardly her
fault - she had been possessed by Rassilon at
the time in his mad attempt at seizing power )
she had  apologized about it later, even though
Romana had insisted that there was nothing to
apologize for.

                  Leela was, and forever would be - a friend.

                  Romana gave a tiny nod at the Doctor’s words -
                  she hated this bit, of course. This was not the
                  first time she had undergone nanogene therapy,
                  but that did not give the Time Lady any comfort.

                             She followed the golden cloud as it swirled
                             around the Doctor’s hand, before swarming
                             to her wound. She hissed sharply, inhaling 
                             deeply. It did not hurt, but it certainly wasn’t
                              the most pleasant of sensations.

posted 1 day ago with 27 notes
via: bowtied ♱ source: bowtiedreblog

Friendly reminder that Romana threw a chair through a window.


Friendly reminder that Romana threw a chair through a window.



Alec sighed, scrubbing at the side of his face with his hand. It had sounded much more reasonable in his head now that he’d said it out loud. He was tired, he knew- it’d been a long day of getting nowhere with the Latimer case as it had been for the past month or so. “Sorry,” he muttered, taking another mouthful of the drink Becca had poured for him with a grimace. “It’s been a hell of a week. The strange and out of the ordinary just seems to be peaking its head ‘round every bloody corner.”

"Don’t." She said a little stiffly, having a sip from her wine glass; she understood, truly - she did. With the murder case, his heart, and her appearing out of no where, well. It was natural that he had his suspicions. The idea of keeping a distance from him had crossed her mind, but with the situation as it was… that simply wasn’t a viable option. One couldn’t be too careful… and, if he continued to push himself, in this way, Romana wanted to be on hand should anything happen. "You have no reason to apologize to me. I’m a stranger, remember?" Another sip, and she places the glass down gently, "— you had better get used to the strange and out of the ordinary. I hear they go hand in hand with sleepy English towns." 

Once you’ve been tagged list 6 things you and your muse have in common and 6 things you don’t. Then pass this along to some other people.  

Tagged by: actualproperclara

6 Similarities between Mun and Muse? 


6 Differences between Mun and Muse?


tagging (if you’ve not already done it!): bowtied themanwhomakespeoplebetter princesssparklefists heresyourdamnfries xaedificare roraniicus apaisleygirl theladycardinal wasthatnotprocedure melodypxnd coordinatrix

posted 1 day ago with 1 notereblog
The Final Days: Romana & Hercule Poirot


Ah. The woman had wished to do the poor old man a kindness. It made him smile, however he shook his head “-no no no I am afraid… besides the fact that my stomach would scarcely be able to handle such a trip, Poirot promised himself that he would never again leave his own time,” he had done it once. And only once. The Doctor was in a crisis, and him, having been very dear friends with The Doctors… wife was it? Poirot never could tell, he agreed to assist, not realizing he was to be whisked away to some far off space station. However, once he had adjusted, he had found the culprit and brought him to justice, however he did explain quite clearly that he would never do that again.

"Poirot however does appreciate the offer." to escape his fate… it looked almost as a blessing. But he could not.. he had to do this. He had to do what God had put him on this Earth to do. "-but enough about Poirot, what have you been doing! You must have such wonderful stories to sh… to sha…" his breathing became labored, and he quickly fumbled for his inhalants. Snapping one, and taking deep breaths, his heart steadied. "-Pardon… a small.. ailment,"

In all honesty - she had expected as much.
To her credit, she knew the man rather well.
But still, she could not help herself and offer.
One trip to the stars with an old friend, perhaps
bringing back a slice of the heavens would 
bring him comfort. And, though, he insisted that
he merely wanted to spend his last days in 
this calm, in this peace - Romana was far from
convinced. Poirot thrived in mystery and puzzles
and detection, to accept anything less… well,
she found it incredibly hard to believe.

                 There  was something behind those eyes, those
                 kind eyes, that did not sit well. The spark within
                 them did not gleam with the hint of mischievousness
                 that she was accustomed too. Now, for anyone else
                 this would simply be down to old age. Somehow, she
                 suspected that it was not. “Fair enough,” she said,
                 having a sip from the delicate tea cup.

                                    Romana rose from her seat, placing a gentle
                                    hand on the detective’s shoulder, upon the fit.
                                    She crouched down by his side, expression
                                    lined with concern, her tone soft. “Hercule,”
                                    she murmured, it was rare of her to use his first
                                    name, and somehow added to the seriousness
                                    of the situation “tell me what troubles you.” 

posted 1 day ago with 12 notes
via: pxirot ♱ source: pxirotreblog