stardustghost-a

[stardustghost-a]

yeah but what if I came back and rebooted...

[stardustghost-a]

stephanie beatriz as candy in the trailer for half magic (2018.)

[stardustghost-a]

tardisnamed​:

WHO IS SUSAN FOREMAN? That is a question that she has been struggling with a lot lately. Ever since regenerating she just can’t seem to pin it down. Actually, she supposes that she lost herself before that. During the war she was someone else entirely. Even though she doesn’t like to think about herself back then doesn’t mean it isn’t true. And then afterwards she was impulsive, volatile. She couldn’t think about herself without thinking about the fact that she lived when nobody else ( or close to nobody else, anyway ) did. So she chose not to think about herself by engaging in reckless adventures, just willing each one to be her last. That’s how she got here, in this body.

Alex’s death. That’s what started her crisis of identity.

She won’t ever be the same. She knows that. But she doesn’t want to be. That’s what regenerating does – it makes you someone else. When she died a weight was lifted. There is still a darkness that will always be with her, but at least she is no longer full of rage. She can think clearly. Maybe, one day, she can even be happy.

She can’t say she’s very happy right now.

“ HEY… HEY… ” Susan backs up, her arms outstretched defensively. The thought to reach for her blaster crosses her mind, but she lost it in the last skirmish. This is what she gets for responding to an emergency signal without thinking to ask any questions. By the time she arrived on the small, comet-sized planet everybody was long dead and replaced by parasitic clones. They had tricked her into coming all so they could feed on the time energy emitted from her vortex manipulator. That’s why the stupid thing won’t work now. She was going to have to force open a rift to reconnect it, but she can’t do that if she’s dead.

Looking around, Susan wracks her brain as she tries to think of what to do to get out of the situation. “ Stay where you are. ” This incarnation seems to have a tendency to talk incessantly, but she can’t think of anything to say now. It’s not like it matters. The clones never understood anything she said before. All they knew was to attack… which makes it a bit odd that the woman isn’t attacking her now. The others lunged as soon as they saw her. And not only that, but she seems to have understood what Susan said. Or at the very least registered it as words which is a big improvement from the blank looks of nothingness she was receiving before. And her face is far more detailed than the fake people she had been dealing with. Clones always seem to mess up the little details…

Long arms quickly grab the nearest rock, and Susan holds it out as threateningly as possible. She wants to seem bigger, scarier, but her eyebrows are raised in a way that show she’s curious. She’s not sure what to think. “ Who are you? ”

@stardustghost​ / starter call

* THE SHADOWS SUIT HER,    romana  has  learnt  to  begin  to  find  comfort  in  being  out  of  sight.    it’s  a  rare  thing  indeed     -    for  her  every  breath  to  not  feel  like  it’s  being  analysed,     for  her  to  move  without  risking  being  pushed  into  the  very  soil  beneath  her  feet  by  the  pressure  she  can’t  escape.    she’s  trying.    she’s  truly,    deeply  trying.    it’s  a  bitter  kind  of  irony  that  haunts  her  every  waking  moment:     her  previous,    second  self  had  been  borne  with  sunshine  in  her  veins  and  a  talent  for  seeing  hope  in  the  darkest  corners,    &&  because  of  that  she  was  always  doomed  to  die  too  soon  when  war  had  come  knocking.     kindness  is  so  rarely  rewarded,     softness  always  punished.

❝   not  that  I  don’t  believe  you’ll  use  that...   pointy  rock,    but  at  the  angle  you’re  holding  it  you’re  more  likely  to  hurt  your  hands  than  little  old  me.   ❞

who  is  she?     who  is  she?     oh  that  question  burns  and  blisters.    romana,    regent.    a  ghost,    a  warrior,    a  lost  cause.     she’s  far  too  many  things  and  far  too  few  all  at  once.     for  all  her  efforts  to  find  an  answer  the  more  she  finds  herself  drowning  in  uncertainty.    the  shadows  ask  no  questions    &&    it’s  all  the  easier  to  lose  herself  in  the  task  at  hand.

the  woman  is  scared  and  her  battle  to  empathy  is  lost.

❝   what’s  your  name?   ❞      asking  a  question  in  answer  to  a  question,     how  terribly  rude.     she’s  not  ready    -     willing    -    to  answer  yet  so  she  settles  for  answering  as  vaguely  as  she  can  whilst  remaining  honest.      ❝   breathe.   I’m  no  threat.     to  you  anyway.   ❞      there’s  no  such  thing  as  a  harmless  being  in  times  such  as  these.    no.   that’s  wrong.    there’s  no  such  thing  as  a  live  harmless  being  in  times  such  as  these.     but  instinct  promises  her  that  the  other,      for  all  her  threats,     is  unlikely  to  be  too  dangerous.

or  maybe  she’s  just  hoping  she’s  wrong.

moving  again  romana  sits  on  the  edge  of  a  larger  rock,     brown  eyes  down  as  she  opens  a  boot,    slowly  tugging  it  off  to  empty  it  of  aggravating  little  pebbles  torturing  her  from  within  leather.     ❝   wouldn’t  attack  cinderella  now,    would  you?   ❞

[stardustghost-a]

habibi - tamino

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riscng​:

        𝐚 𝐰𝐚𝐱𝐢𝐧𝐠 & & 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐆𝐎𝐃𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐒 , 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 , 𝐚 𝐜𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐠𝐚𝐳𝐞𝐝 𝐮𝐩𝐨𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐩𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐰𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦.    it isn’t as if she doesn’t know the SCIENCE behind the earth & & her moon , but there is a mystery yet UNEXPLAINED by human means.     (     a meaning to the beauty     )     ––––––––     a conversation now HAD between palm of the hand & & the extraordinary life held in a little BLUE shed.

“     it’s a secret.     ”     adventure BEAMS in twin dimples of soft cheeks. she turns her ATTENTION towards the other corporeal form , momentary focus shifted.     (     it is not a language she can repeat , not in this tongue     )     but she can still FEEL it all. tally grins , a little hum on her lips without thinking.     “     she’s wonderful. she’s amazing , look at this library !     ”     then softer , to herself , the witch MULLS ,     “     she knows , too.     ”        ––––––––      the moon does sing.

“     what does it sound like to you ?    ”     she asks , curiosity SPARKLING on lashes.

* EXPLAINING IT FEELS IMPOSSIBLE,    but  if  anyone  stands  a  chance  at  grasping  it  it’s  tally.    the  little  witch  who  was  so  almost  destroyed  by  war,     whose  youth  and  tenderness  could  have  been  sacrificed  at  the  altar  of  the  universe’s  cruel  demands  for  no  reason   other  than  punishment  for  being  a  little  too  good.     a  little  too  tender.     the  stars  have  never  been  forgiving  to  those  whose  hearts  beat  like  war  drums.      a  secret.      oh,     romana  is  used  to  those,     to  the  things  that  cannot  be  admitted. 

❝   a  secret?     how  terribly  tempting.   ❞     she  gently  gives  the  console  a  rub  and  the  tardis  sings  again,    a  soft  tune  that  feels like the very stars  around  her.    the  tardis  knows  so  much,     so  many  secrets,     she  remembers  the  fires  that  engulfed  their  planet    -     she  remembers  the  weeks  romana  spent  stumbling  through  ashes  to  collect  the  half  burnt  books  that  fill  her  library.    ❝  she  sounds  like  the  closest  to  home  I  have.  ❞    of  grief,     of  joy,     of  supernovas  and  endless  winters.    her  tardis  deserves  a  name     -    deserves  more  than  romana  can  give  her.

this  time  she  moves  closer  to  tally,     her  smile  back  and  playful.     ❝   close  your  eyes  and  give  me  your  hand.     I’ll  show  you  how  she  sounds  to  me.   ❞

[stardustghost-a]

[stardustghost-a]

skyllarks​:

“CALL IT OLD AGE,” the Doctor replies with the ghost of a smile on their lips. Their hearts ache for all the years that they have lived, all the pain that they have endured and the love that they have felt. They are tired of the grumpiness and of the dark. Now that another period of darkness in their lives is over, they are slowly, carefully, allowing themself some softness, not to mention that they have always been a sentimental idiot. Always moving forward with occasional glances to the past. How tempted they have been to visit past friends, those that are long gone. They hardly allow themselves the opportunity.

“I remember. It’s why I took you with me, I believe. I’ve always loved a challenge.” And what happy ending could either of them find? All the Doctor knows is to run, run, run. It’s been their whole lives. Considerations of settling are long gone, brief moments of optimism in their past. And how could the last Time Lords ever find peace before death anyway? How was that even possible when they could not return home? “I hope you find it, Romana. I think you may well deserve it.”

* CALL IT OLD AGE,    which  one  of  them  is  older?    do  they  even  know?    romana  has  no  way  to  judge    -    so  many  of  her  memories,     so  much  of  the  time  war  is  missing  from  her  head.     even  the  memories  she  still  has  feel  like  poison  in  her  veins:     taunting  her  with  the  reality  she  can’t  escape  from.     the  doctor,    the  wannabe  healer  of  the  very  stars,     had  been  a  soldier  when  it  came  down  to  it.     romana    -    she’s  been  so  many  things.     the  orphan  of  a  planet  she’d  once  been  the  president  of,    who’d  come  so  close  to  being  able  to  bring  change.     her  legacy  has  become  death,    exhaustion  all  she  knows.      the  doctor  is,     at  their  core,    soppy,    so  what  does  that  make  romana?

❝   you  didn’t  have  a  say  in  taking  me  with  you,    not  to  begin.     then  you  got  used  to  me.  ❞    she  counters  with  a  surprising  lack  of  venom.     time  has  sharpened  her  teeth:    her  first  regeneration  could  strike  to  hurt,     but  she’s  long  since  learnt  how  to  go  for  the  jugular.    ❝  I  deserve  nothing  at  all.     perhaps  the  constant  screaming,    the  taste  of  ash,     is  the  prize  my  presidency  deserves.   ❞     perhaps  one  day  the  screaming  will  get  too  much  and  she’ll  simply  shatter  into  shards  of  something  that  once  resembled  a  woman.    ❝   can  you  even  remember  how  many  people  have  travelled  with  you  over  the  years?     all  those  whose  paths  were  changed?   ❞

[stardustghost-a]

you’re a dying thing that never quite dies. still desperate, still trying to keep going, to keep flying— to prove you’re alive.

the difference between surviving and living | m.a.w (via dvoyd)

[stardustghost-a]

quantumstarpaths​:

It isn’t that Paul doesn’t like interest. It’s something he looks for in people, in fact. It isn’t the interest that bothers him, isn’t the fact she’s trying to learn, or the fact that she’s questioning him. He believes there is little worse one can be than ignorant, and she is making the effort not to be, which is something he can appreciate. The problem is that he can hear the doubt in her voice, and there’s a difference between people questioning and people doubting, and he’s familiar with both enough to be able to tell them apart. “What part of it is confusing you?”

* SHE DOES HER BEST,     does  her  best  to  keep  up  the  charade.    playing  young,    playing  human,     playing  as  if  the  technology  that  fills  this  ship  isn’t  horribly  outdated  to  her.    oh  how  she  respects  them    -    fragile  little  dreamers.     life  would  be  easier  if  she’d  been  allowed  to  keep  living  her  existence  truly  believing  she’d  ever  been  one  of  them.      playing  ditzy  doesn’t  suit  her,     especially  when  she  spends  so  much  of  her  time  expertly  avoiding  all  questions  about  herself.      ❝   this  is  wonderful!     really.   you  should  be  proud.    it’s  just  a  little...     convoluted?    convoluted,   yeah.   ❞

[stardustghost-a]

Caroline Penvenen in Poldark 2x05

[stardustghost-a]

STARTER CALL   |   @spacetrekked​ romana vi for soji !

* THE TRUTH IS DIFFICULT,     romana  has  done  her  best:    her  best  to  move  on  from  all  the  people  she’s  been,    her  best  to  focus  on  building  herself  a  new  era  she  can  be  proud  of.    the  peacemaker  is  someone  new,     someone  who  is  meant  to  help.    she  couldn’t  protect  dahj,    time  away  resulting  in  her  own  absence  when  the  woman  needed  her  most    -    when  she  should  have  been  able  to  help. 

she’s  had  lifetimes  of  guilt,     it’s  time  to  stop  drowning.

soji  doesn’t  need  to  know  the  details  of  why,    of  how  important  dahj  was.     she  has  her  own  grief,    her  own  loss,     romana  is  used  to  mourning  alone.     ❝   come  on.    there  must  be  a  planet  you’d  like  to  see.    an  era.    something  fun.  ❞

[stardustghost-a]

Exile, I thought again; that is to be saved, and unrelated to anything. One of the circles of Hell, but which?

Christa Wolf, Cassandra: A Novel and Four Essays (tr. Jan van Heurck)

[stardustghost-a]

destinedgreat​:

no  fun  felt  like  an  understatement.  his  species’  history  was  bathed  in  its  own  genocide,  his  existence  outlawed  by  all  of  heaven…  his  mere  birth  a  crime  worthy  of  death.  and  oh,  had  they  tried!  heaven,  archangels…  even  god  himself,  but  somehow…  somehow,  he  was  still  standing.  broken  and  bruised,  but  standing  nonetheless.  how  was  that?  existing?  a  moment  passed,  before  the  right  word  came  to  the  child,  voice  quiet  and  hollow.  “  …  hard.  ”

but  she,  she  was  an  alien!  stop  moping,  kid!  focus  on  that!  an  alien    ——–    a  real  life  alien.  like  star  wars,  but  actually,  really  real!  and  if  it  was  any  other  time,  any  other  moment  in  his  life,  maybe  he’d  be  more  excited  about  that,  babbling  about  aliens,  and  the  fact  that  they  actually,  truly  existed.  a  very  old  alien  from  a  nearly  extinct  species.  so,  she  knew  what  it  was  like…  to  be  alone.  to  be  alone  in  the  world,  with  no  one…  no  one  who  understood.  suddenly,  the  universe  clicked.

“  …  so…  you’re  like  me…  ”

* IS HE LIKE HER?    he  best  hope  that’s  not  the  way  his  life  is  headed.    full  of  sorrow,     self  sacrifice,     far  too  much  life.     the  greatest  gift  the  universe  can  give  is  to  know  the  right  moment  to  simply...     be  done.      which  is  better?     he’s  so  young,    instinct  tells  her  younger  than  he  looks,    the  soft  ‘hard’  more  relatable  than  she  would  ever  wish  on  anyone.     survivors  rarely  get  a  say  in  which  parts  of  themselves  get  traded  away:    hard  barely  even  starts  to  cover  the  constant  struggle  of  being  one  of  a  kind.

or,    at  least,    when  she  gets  her  hands  on  the  master  she’ll  either  be  one  of  the  last  two  or  she’ll  happily  leave  the  title  of  final  survivor  to  the  doctor.     they’ve  had  it  before,     the  sorrow  suits  them  better.     ❝  trust  me,    duck,    it’s  a  good  thing  there’s  few  like  me.  ❞    not  one  of  the  good  guys    -     not  one  of  the  bad  guys.    or  at  least  she’s  never  been  intentionally  evil  but  romana  can  hardly  pretend  being  unintentionally  evil  is  truly  any  better.     she  is  what  she  is.

❝   how  are  you  both  so  young  and  so...    not  young  at  once?   ❞

[stardustghost-a]

[stardustghost-a]

timewarn​:

            𝐌𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆   𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇   𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄   𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄   𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒   𝐈𝐒   𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑   𝐀   𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃   𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐀 .      even if it is to save gallifrey .    though it certainly wouldn’t be the first time that the time lords have made such reckless attempts to prevent their own fates .    it wouldn’t ever stop them – right or wrong .      𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐒 .    sometimes he’s loathed to admit that ,    but he’s gone out of his way for them before – why wouldn’t he do it again .    especially since it’s romana who is asking .    he sighs softly ,    knowing well enough that he’s absolutely never going to say no ,    and sits back in the uncomfortable wooden chair .     ❝      alright .    ❞      he answers begrudgingly .

     he could laugh it all off ,    pretend it’s not serious ,     𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐈𝐓'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐁𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒 .     because ,   frankly ,   it isn’t his business at all .     he made sure of that when he left the first time ,   and extra sure of that when denied to lead .     now he only goes back when he has no choice .      𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐄𝐒 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐁𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐄 𝐈𝐓 𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐒 .      but he can see that romana is serious ,    that this is serious ,    and even if it breaks all rules that the time lords ever invented gallifrey is still his home .      he doesn’t want to see it destroyed .    he doesn’t think he wants to see what she’s seen ,    but he also doesn’t want her to feel like she’s completely alone here .      𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐒 𝐇𝐈𝐌 𝐇𝐄'𝐒 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐇𝐎𝐏𝐄 .     one might call that ego ,    or one could call it empathy .    he picks up on it in the same way one picks up on a paper cut or a hang nail .    annoying ,    painful ,    and quite frankly intrusive .                but it definitely gives him an advantage from time to time that he never had with his other faces .     he’s not quite figured out what that advantage is or how to use it ,    yet  ,    but it has come in handy from time to time .

      ❝      show me .       ❞  

* CONTACT  /  CONTACT  /  CONTACT,      the  air  dances�� in  the  silence  between  them  as  brown  doe  eyes  tightly  shut.    her  mind  is  her  own  and  her  secrets,    the  memories  she  still  has,    will  accompany  her  to  whatever  nameless  planet  her  final  death  will  someday  be  on.    in  her  own  universe,     in  her  own  sky,     gallifrey  is  no  longer  even  a  dot,    just  empty  space  and  empty  grief.     this  is  the  face  that  can’t  be  forgiven    -     the  doctor  in  her  timeline  who  made  the  impossible  choice.    but  he  hasn’t  yet.    gallifrey  here  still  stands    /    still  has  a  chance  to  maybe  someday  be  better  than  it  was  and  the  peacemaker  craves  a  peaceful  ending.     just  this  once,    can  the  stars  not  take  mercy  on  her?

if  the  memories  she  does  still  have  are  so  awful,     she  has  no  desire  to  know  what  the  ones  her  mind  pushed  down  into  the  abyss  beneath  her  hearts  are  like.     so  regardless  of  how  it  hurts,     how  familiar  memories  are  laced  with  exhaustion  and  agony  her  features  never  show,    for  a  moment  she  allows  herself  to  simply  be  romana  again.    the  romana  who  tried  so  hard  to  be  good,     the  romana  who  failed  yet  still  somehow  lived.     she’s  here,     across  from  the  doctor,     yet  they’re  complete  strangers  to  each  other.

the  images  burn  her  from  the  inside  out    -    until  she  can  feel  her  edges  crumbling  inwards.

gallifrey  screams  over  and  over,    &&   just  for  a  moment  she’s  not  the  only  person  who  has  to  hear  it.     destruction  is  easier  to  grasp  when  it  feels  real;     can  the  doctor  feel  it?     how  some  parts  of  her  still  echo  with  fire,     healed  only  on  the  surface,     never  free  from  how it  all  still  follows  her.     sharp  brown  eyes  open  again,     picking  up  her  tea  to  sip  at  it    ( pushing  the  ash  back  down,    pushing  her  soul  back  down ).

❝   the  echoes  stop  after  a  bit.   ❞    sometimes.

[stardustghost-a]

STARTER CALL   |   @brvesouls​ romana ii for sif !

* HOW LONG HAS PASSED?     since  she  left  the  doctor’s  side  and  began  her  journeys  by  herself.     duty   &&   expectations  have  formed  her  life  since  her  looming,    born  with  a  duty  she  never  asked  for  and  an  unforgiving  planet.    but  she’s  free  at  last  and  clinging  to  her  own  decree,        time  to  be  her  own  romana,    to  explore  the  stars  and shape  herself  into  her  own  image.     this  second  face  of  hers  is  full  of  joy  and  hope,    soft,    blue  eyes  young  and  shining.

this  time  she  gets  to  choose  who  she  becomes.    face  borrowed  from  a  distant  princess,    mannerisms  borrowed  from  too  many  people  to  keep  track  of.

❝   oh,    you  have  to  see  it.   ❞    gallifrey,    home,     may  keep  calling  her  back  but  she’s  far  from  ready  yet.     her  smile  pure  sunshine  as  she  twists  upon  her  feet.    ❝   come  on.    a  little  adventure,     you  and  me.     we’ll  be  back  before  you’re  missed    -    it’s  a  waterfall  of  actual  diamonds.   ❞