i'm made of dreams
and not of steel;
here is a link to all my tagged advice asks.
PLEASE NOTE: there will be triggers.

Rule #400: Always waste time when you haven't got any!

Through crimson stars and silent stars and tumbling nebulas like oceans set on fire -- through empires of glass and civilizations of pure thought and a whole, terrible, wonderful universe of impossibilities.

I'm the Doctor. What are you waiting for?
Come along, Tumblr.
(cursor) (music)

( ooc: I found sully from monsters inc. )

( ooc: I found sully from monsters inc. )



"I think so?

—It’s so loud sometimes, when I’m asleep. Sometimes I think I’m awake when I’m not.”

       ”Does it scare you, or is it just loud?
        — How about some water, hm? Are you thirsty?”




             ”What is that?”
      It’s  a  mixture of  alarm  and  offense  that  anyone
      would  dare  attempt  some  manner  of  sneaking
      into her palace; though it could  hardly   be  called
      covert    when    the    perpetrator   signaled    their 
      arrival   with  such   an   unpleasant    sound.   Yet,
      perhaps  the most obnoxious  and  troubling  was
      the  large blue box  that now  stood  between  she
      and  her vanity.  Brows  furrow into  a  scowl,  eyes
      narrowed as she  stomps  a  foot  and  waves  off
      her clearly incompetent guards. A spark breathes
      to life in her palm, a blazing ball of fire in seconds.
                               ”If you wish to keep your life and your ——
                      … little blue home, I suggest you come out, dear.”

                          “Little blue home!”

          The Doctor’s gleeful voice boomed through the walls
          of the TARDIS. Considering the outer shell of his ship
          was effectively soundproof, the TARDIS must have
          found it funny to project his voice through the shielding
          because in the next moment he continued—

          “Oh, blimey, I’m echoing. She’s put me on speaker,
          hasn’t she? Cheeky. Hello there! One moment!”

          There was some shuffling, a brief hiss of air, and then
          the doors opened and the Doctor stepped out, looking
          more like he was ready for a jaunt on the moon than a
          siege on a castle. He beamed at Regina through the
          helmet of his suit.


          “You know, little blue home is probably the most
         accurate first description anybody’s called the TARDIS
         in about… well, as long as she’s been a blue box and
         my home. Nice fireball. It won’t set anything on fire but
         your lovely room, though.” He patted his stomach,
         rustling the material. “I’m fireproof!”

( ooc: when I bought this ice cream I saw the words “COTTON CANDY”. I did not notice the words “ROCKIN’ POPPIN’” above them. )



                                         ”Long story. I assure you, he deserves it.
                                          At least I’m not saying I’ll shoot him
                                          even though that has been suggested.
                                          Have you heard of ‘The Five’?”

       ”Oh, sure. The Five Realms, the Five Spheres, aï larivv — that’s 
       the five in common tedyokityn… The Five Beatles in Melbourne
       in 1964… the Fantastic Five… no, hang on. Sorry. I changed that.
       It’s Fantastic Four, now. Scratch that one.”



          “You are a very odd man, do you realise?
             It’s obvious by now that the box is yours.
             The only question that remains is— why?
             Of all the places to put it, this mustn’t have
             been easy.”

             Siger crosses his arms over his chest and presses
             his lips together tightly. This eccentric man is
             confusing him greatly. He’s not used to being

       “—  Why not?”

       It was probably the least mature response he could have given,
       like a kid acting petulant and contrary to a parent. But it was a
       legitimate question, and the Doctor raised an eyebrow at the man,
       twisting the key in the lock, but not quite opening the door. 

       “And anyway, it was just as easy to put her here as it would have
       been to put her anywhere else.”

melodypxnd replied to your post: “On a scale of one to ten, how bad of an idea is it to punch Montague John Druitt?”:
It’s not about who he is, it’s about who he hurt.

       Maybe you ought to explain.


Her eyes widened briefly. “You’ve been mistaken for a bug guy before?” Willow shook her head. “Not buggy. It’s just…I mean you can never be too sure. And…I saw a movie. Where a substitute was made of bugs.” Not a total lie.


       “Must’ve been some movie,” he commented lightly, shuffling some
       papers on the desk for no reason other than the fact that he wanted
       to look at least a little professional. Professional people did like to
       shuffle their papers.

       “A friend once asked me if I was a slug in a human suit. I told her then
       and I’ll tell you now — what you see is what you get. Is that alright?”


+ bowtied

The planet was mostly desolate, or at least it
was, compared to the ones Bee had visited
before. It was mostly rock. His sensors picked
up that it was cold, and the temperature was
dropping rapidly.

There was a signal here, one that Bee’s own
vessel had picked up, though it wasn’t one that
he had recognized.


Dust stirred as the bot rested heavy feet onto
the surface.

Bee sent out a signal in return for the one that
he had picked up, directing it towards the source,
which he was headed to now.

       One of the panels on the TARDIS’s console pinged.

       This might not have been quite so alarming had he
       been anywhere else, but the Doctor had parked his
       ship on this barren planet for the sole reason that it
       was barren. No local lifeforms - completely inhospitable. 

       The Doctor pushed his goggles up on his face,
       scampering out from underneath the console. So much
       for that repair job. He could probably put it off for
       another decade or two, anyway.

       “Hello!” he said, plinking a finger against the glass bulb
       that was currently flashing yellow. “What have we here,
       eh? Not a distress signal, no. Not a warning, not a threat…” 

       A thoughtful hum rose in the Doctor’s throat, pressing
       against his soft palette, and he pulled the monitor screen
       around, banging on the corner with the palm of his hand
       to turn it on. His fingers skittered over the screen, pressing
       in commands.

       “Well! We can’t be rude. Let’s send one back, shall we,
       dear? Let’s try a… blue ping. Blue is good, blue is friendly.
       Blue is cool.”