Why the hell can I hear a thump when I look at the picture? And no thump when i look away? OHMY.
WHAT IS THIS SORCERY!!!
holy crap
I CAN SEE SOUNDS.
DEVIOUS FUCKERY
I CAN FEEL THE THUMPS IN MY EARS WHAT
GFGKLEMFNGK
JESUS CHRIST YOU GUYS ARE RIGHT.
WHAT
OH MY GOD
I’m re-blogging this every time I see it.
what the fuck..
(Source: redmoonlight)
I wish we said “fancy” in America. As in, “I fancy you.” It’s such a more agreeable term than “I have a crush on you.” What’s a crush? Like, I AM A BOA CONSTRICTOR AND I AM GOING TO IMMOBILIZE YOU WITH MY MISPLACED AND OBSESSIVE AFFECTION. “I fancy you” is like, you’re so shiny and glittery and I just want to put you on a shelf and look at you for a while ‘cause you’re fancy.
(Source: aimmyarrowshigh)
She loves him. The Doctor, her Doctor. (Although all Doctors, whether she’s met them or not, feel like her own.) Of course she loves him. She loves his daft smile when he’s playing with Tony, loves how excited he gets when he does something simple successfully like the wash. (The first time they’d had to call in someone to vacuum the suds out of Jackie’s expensive shag carpets. Jackie still reminds him about it.) She loves how he holds her hand as he’s falling asleep and how he still wakes her up from the nightmares. Because even though it’s been a year, the void still hasn’t left her.
She’s happy, really she is. But that hadn’t of stopped her from noticing the date on the calender as it approached. It hadn’t of stopped her from driving out to Norway at five am, when everyone was still asleep. (Yet the kettle was on with her favorite mug set next to it, and Rose knows her mum too well to think it was an accident.)
She’d driven to the beach in silence, quietly laughing to herself at one point over how many times she’d been on that road.
There’s a knot in her stomach when she arrives. The slam of the car door makes her nerves jump, and she shoves her hands deep into her pockets when the chill in the air goes to her bones.
The air smells the same. The stones are the same, the waves move in the same direction. For a moment, Rose thinks if she looks to her left she’ll see herself standing there. Crying, aching, left empty and alone. Or running, running to him and away from him, and taking his hand because she’d needed something to hold onto.
She finds a rock to sit on and thinks about him. Lets herself, because most of the time she can’t. It doesn’t feel fair to the man she’s with, even if sometimes he looks at her as if to say ‘It’s alright’.
She’s still mad at him, for not giving her a choice. For not saying goodbye. She still wonders what might have happened if her Doctor didn’t exist. She wonders if he would have brought her back her anyway, and that hurts too much to think about, so she moves on.
She wonders what he looks like, who he’s with. She wonders if he’s happy, if he could let himself be, not just because of her, but because he never could.
She lets herself wish, one last damn time, that she could say goodbye properly.
She doesn’t cry, because this is the last time she’ll ever be here and she’s not going to leave once more crying.
Rose watches the sun rise, watches the way the edge of it creeps over the horizon until it’s all she can see. It’s the way the thought of him comes to her, suddenly and slowly at once, until it’s all she is. She’s come here to say goodbye, but she knows she’ll never really ever let him go.
When she gets back to the car, he’s there, leaning back against Pete’s old Jeep.
He looks up, eyes big and round, not saying anything. Rose just shakes her head. “How’d you know?”
His lips curve up slightly. “Rose. You’ve been looking at the calender every day for a month like the end of the world was coming.”
Rose grins, teasing. “Yeah, that only happens once and I was already there.” But the Doctor doesn’t smile back, just looks at her with worried eyes. “Why didn’t you come to the shore?”
“I didn’t come to intrude, just to make sure you were okay.”
Rose walks closer to him, tugging on his scarf. “What if I had stayed longer?”
Now the Doctor smiles. “I brought soup.”
Rose laughs, and lets herself fall into him, breathing him in. He puts his arms around her, and she holds onto him, tighter.
(Source: the-shade-of-sonic-lipstick)
We at the Doctor Who Tumblr would like to say that we have full faith in Matt as a torch bearer.
(Source: thetardiswasonfire)
if he did Donna would see it on television, recognize him and thus her mind would burn up.
Eleven has realized this and thus he’s now carrying it to save her life.
He’s got it under control.
At least they don’t have to worry about him singeing his eyebrows off.
(Source: blainiacs)
Terrifying Fact Number Two, is that I’ve just watched Matt Smith carrying a flaming torch on screen. Oh, it’s for such a thrilling scene in Episode 12. Really and truly, magnificent and epic. A proper movie moment. But never mind that, it’s Matt carrying a FLAMING TORCH. Look, Matt’s lovely, he’s a magnificent, brand new, hilarious, heartbreaking, heroic Doctor — but the fact is, if that man walks into a room with a coffee then it’s only so long before you’re wearing it. No, really, clumsiest man on earth. He walks like he’s in a constant state of surprise at his own limbs. I remember when he turned up at a Worldwide meeting really early on, and the first thing he did was spill a cup of coffee over a rather lovely woman. Naturally she giggled, flushed and introduced her mother. (Ahh, life when you’re Matt ! I accidentally made eye contact with the same woman — she phoned the police and shot me in the face.) On the way out he apologised to a completely different woman for the coffee incident. “That was the wrong woman,” I said, as he went out the doors. “Nope,” he replied, “That was the second cup.”
Oh, and there was the top secret, very special, extra readthrough for Episode 10 (I’m talking that up, but what the hell) and Matt came striding in with a GUITAR ON HIS BACK. I have honestly never seen a whole roomful of people flatten themselves against a wall with such a high-pitched squeal of terror. Except Karen, of course, who trotted along behind him without a care in the world. Oh, the horror as the Doctor spun and chatted and coffeed a series of delighted women. How that guitar arced and scythed! Swish! Get down, Karen! Swish! Karen, save yourself! Swish! Not her face, Matt, NOT HER FACE!! Ah, the memories. You know, to this day I’m not sure if Matt knew he had a guitar on his back — he might just have collided with a musician.
Steven Moffat
and they’re letting this guy carry the torch through Cardiff.
(via matt-smith-socks)
(Source: community.livejournal.com)
