kristen. devoted booshie, whovian and sherlockian, da beatles are my lyfe, and I'm perpetually in love with Noel. forever obsessing over David and Julian. Oh and here's my ugly mug, if you're interested.
Hacked by The Mastermind 11072011
16199~forget the wibbly wobbly, make it a fixed point.
horny-ood is the Jawn to my Sherlock 5ever
Doctor: I just want a mate.
Donna: You just want to mate?
Doctor: I just want a mate!
Donna: You’re not mating with me, sunshine!
(via mystolenthunder)
“I’ll show you the universe”He said, a big smile on his lips though his eyes were sad”We could travel together, forever.”
If The Master had agreed to travel through space and time with The Doctor..
——
Omg, don’t ask me. My mom was disappointed because there was no Doctor on my other watercolor drawing with the TARDIS, so I decided to draw another pic with the TARDIS in the universe, this time with The Doctor ( and The Master ;D)
(via fuckyeahmasterdoctor)
Two Whites with One, One White with Two
“Mum, d’ya mind if I put a kettle on?”
“I’ll take care of it sweetie,” she replied, smiling because her daughter was alive and well and looked happy. Then she remembered Rose’d just swanned off for twelve months and turned toward the stove away from her daughter. “You just go back with him and watch whatever’s going on.” That part came out sharper than Jackie intended, cutting the tenuous string of affection Rose attempted as a reconnection. She almost jumped back, shuffling out to the living room with a mumbled response.
Jackie grabbed the kettle, jerked up the faucet to fill it with water, then dropped it on the burner. She looked out into the living room, eyes catching the movement of the telly. Aliens in London, blimey. Her eyes shifted to Rose, leaning over the back of the chair he where he had plopped himself. He cocked his head toward her, whispering something. Rose giggled then, pushed at his shoulder, and he smiled back. The kettle began to whistle. Jackie turned and opened the pantry doors, grabbing three mugs. She hadn’t seen that look from Rose before. That awful Jimmy Stone, she looked at him like he was a god and she was nothing. Mickey was a dear, and she knew Rose cared for him but she couldn’t see them still together in five years. But the way she looked at that berk–looking old enough people must assume she’s the Other Woman, the young trophy, or something worse; damn him–and the way he looked back at her? Her hands shook as she pulled the wailing kettle from its burner. Rose might be back, but her baby wasn’t hers anymore.
She clutched at the handle of her mug too hard and the ceramic cracked. She told herself she was crying over that mug. She loved that mug. She pushed the tears away, tilted the boiling water into the two remaining mugs and asked Rose to help her bring out the milk and sugar and tea bags. She pulled down another mug for herself, watching Rose and him as they doctored their coffee. Rose still liked hers white with one, at least, just like her. He liked his white with two. She may as well remember it for the future.(x)
