#vale decem

[shewolfofvilnius]

this little assortment of music from doctor who in "music box" style is amazing. Best 18 minutes I spent on Youtube today, and deserves WAY more views Vale Decem in particular had me crying at 2:50am so

[alies22]

I was watching Doctor Who for the millionth time and I realized something

the eleventh doctor always says "never ignore a coincidence unless you're busy"

and that could have come from what happened to Donna.

around her was an acquaintance who took her to the Tardis, to the doctor and to all the events that would lead her to the episode "Journey's End".

the doctor didn't see the coincidences and when I went he didn't care. He only realized what was happening at the end (actually the clone that came from his hand noticed it first)

So it must have been after these events that he started using that phrase.

it was probably just "never ignore a coincidence", but since the doctor is the doctor he had to have this condition.

[saguaroooo]

I listened to Murray Gold and a wasp entered my room during vale decem. I sent it away with the amazing chorus in the background feeling like a warrior fighting a dragon with my shiny armour (pink Floyd shirt) and my trustful sword (a broom) to save the princess (The Hamilton Funko it landed on)

[asoulwithadream]

can't stop violently shaking about the possibility of "vale quattuordecim"

[mx-hyperfixation]

why did nobody tell me that vale decem translates to farewell ten,,

and the lyrics have translations too

and I’m not crying you are,,, and most certainly am not spiralling back into the doctor who fixation because I’ve run out of good omens episodes for now

[none-ofthisnonsense]

I've never been so happy and so sad to know Latin in my life

[aletterinthenameofsanity]

Eleven/Amy/Rory Writing Update (pt. 12)

Me, steadily downloading more and more pieces of the Doctor Who soundtrack onto my phone for writing inspiration? More likely than you think! (I think I'm up to 21 pieces of score, and for someone who doesn't normally write to instrumental music, that's saying something.)

What can I say? The Doctor Who soundtrack slaps. And slaps hard.

(All hail our lord and savior Murray Gold. Icon.)

[antlir]

the world she was promised was not the world she got:‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎an end to suffering and pain in exchange for new suffering, new pain?‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎she kicks herself when she pictures it‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎––‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎a painful memory of her naive nature and his ability to dig his teeth into her tender desires for a life that was livable.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎no, the world she was promised wasn't given to her, but this is at least a second chance.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎there was something utterly lonely about being in derek's pack, a secondary reminder of how different she was, but here?‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎is there such a thing as different when no one is the same.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎it's overwhelming, it's promising, it's exciting.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"thanks."‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎as she lowers herself into her seat, she feels like a freshman again, stuck trying to figure out how to talk to people with the baggage of her self hatred.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎now she has to learn to talk to people with the lack of knowledge and understanding she has of this world.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎it's not too different‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎(at least this time she feels pretty).‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎fingers tug at her skirt, and she adjusts her stature once, twice, before turning with a red lipped grin to the girl beside her.

"erica.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎is it obvious that i'm new or do you just know everyone here?"‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎there's an edge to erica, her leather jacket, heels, the way her eyes are caked in a dark makeup‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎––‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎but that wasn't always there, he created it within her, and trying to lose it comes with discomfort, felt up in her shoulders as she rolls them backwards, telling herself, be nice, be nice, be nice.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"uh, yeah it is.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎i was pretty good at science at my old school, so...‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎i'm hoping it'll be the same here just‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎––‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎madder?"‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎it's an attempt at a joke, and she laughs slightly when she finishes, brown eyes gazing down to her notebook before looking back to frankie.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"i think i'll be getting the textbook later today?‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎i came in last night pretty late, didn't really have time to get prepared."‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎she hopes the girl doesn't ask why, she hopes no one ever asks her why, why now, why so late, why here, why not beacon hills...‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎so she continues on, not giving the other a chance to start:‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"if you're good in this class you may have to help me out."

ERICA REYES: DO YOU MIND IF I SIT HERE?

mad science was the one class where she studied by herself. it didn't bother her, though— what with her dad's well-known history in the subject, and his daughter's own... little tendency to create life every now and then; the students probably just worried about a beacon exploding in their faces, or their dissected frogs being revived. [which only happened twice, thank you very much!] in the midst of mixing a vile of goblin sweat into her latest creation, an unfamiliar voice spoke behind her, an inquiry most unexpected, and her movements suddenly stilled, work forgotten, equipment abandoned on the table. “yes!” mismatched eyes moved upwards, though they fell quickly, brows furrowed tightly. embarrassment clung to the girl in a matter of seconds, realising her simple response might've sparked the wrong conclusion. “i mean— yes, of course you can sit here... not yes because i mind you sitting here.” explanation evoked in a single breath, fingers tugged at wrist stitches quietly, before glee replaced slight awkwardness. lips grew bright with a signature frankie stein grin. she stretched out, moving the few books scattered along her workbench to make room, beacons and test tubes deserted in favour of her social life.

an introductory handshake was foregone in case sparks flew from her palm; the last thing she wanted was to frighten the poor girl. “i'm frankie, by the way!” she exclaimed while tidying up her belongings, patting the empty side when finished, beckoning @ariamuses to take the spare chair. “you're new, right?” a beat passed until the next hurried, excitable question, “is this your first class with mr. hack?” both asks already answered by her chosen residence— that, or she had no concern regarding the minds of the frankenstein's when this particular field was involved. new or not, they'd certainly never met before today, so frankie turned slightly in her seat, full attention on her bench-mate, deciding she was far more important than the classwork she could do in her sleep. “mad science is way easy once you get the hang of it. do you have all your textbooks yet?” she didn't attempt to reel in the nature of her excitement, despite its possibly overwhelming nature. she remembered her first week at monster high too well [the ghoul internally cringed whenever she reminisced], and she'd have preferred an overbearing student trying to help, opposed to receiving none at all.

[pokimoko]

Listening to instrumentals from the silly doo-wee-ooo show is actually something that can be so painful.

[doctorwhoisadhd]

thinking about putting together a murray gold leitmotif fakebook

[phaedo]

i've been meaning to start a real blog where i make actual thought-out posts about stuff so i can attach a ko-fi to it but the problem is i haven't written anything worth doing that with i just need money

[embodies]

hands are never idle even if the mind rests. as donna listens attentively to the lady's spiel ( for alcina certainly compensates for the dollmaker's lack of words by filling the void with her own ) her fingertips enact a gentle dance through the air, watching through veiled countenance as the porcelain counterpart responds in tandem. angie is, by all accounts, an extension of herself but to any would - be beholders she functions as fluidly as if she were separately animate. the tittering giggles of the doll are stifled by a digit coming up to where ( one would imagine ) donna's mouth sits prim and proper behind the black fabric, diaphanous and hushing. no audible shhh is uttered but still the doll obediently quietens, an apologetic bow of the ventriloquist's head toward the countess encouraging her to continue her rant. it is better if these thoughts are vented in safe company, rather than risk provoking the godly wrath of heisenberg ( or worse, miranda ) later. occhio non vede, cuore non duole. what the eye doesn't see, the heart doesn't feel. angie pipes up, shrill voice a knife in the otherwise dulcet air. the artificial gaze of the plaything is piercing, but certainly nothing lady dimitrescu hasn't dealt with before.

❛ —my mistake ! you were saying . . . ? ❜

@vale-decem. for lady dimitrescu. ♡

[burnedself]

And I oop--

[shittywriterbrain]

NOOO NOOO WHEN I SAW "I FORGIVE YOU" PLAY I DIDNT KNOW IT WAS *THE* KISS TRACK. WAY TO FUCKING DESTROY ME BECAUSE THE SCENE JUST AUTOMATICALLY PLAYS IN YOUR HEAD YOU CAN'T STOP IT

[landscaping-your-mind]

NOTHING IS ENOUGH I NEED TO REWATCH S2 THROUGH 4