#karengillcn

[morphographic-blog]

66 77 91 :)

66:what would your ideal flower crown look like? pretty simple just white and yellow daisies

77:pink or yellow lemonade? pink

91:where do you plan on traveling this year? miami, cozumel, southern california, chicago (well moving there but. still.), probably new york at some point

[dungeonsanddragonsfifthedition]

heyy :)

orange juice. turquoise. a good morning/good night text that you weren’t expecting. that glitter emoji. the lyric “happiness hit her like a train on a track.” polka dots.

[morphographic-blog]

14, 15, 16 :)

14.What makes you laugh no matter what? there’s a couple arrested development scenes that i will laugh about for like 7 minutes even if someone just quotes them 

15.Who was the last person you talked to? if texts count then my friend jane but if in person then my brother

16.Do you get butterflies around the person you like? yeah but i also have anxiety so it’s like.....a billion butterflies with wings of steel 

[bananannabeth]

domestic

prompt by the amazing karengillcn

a cute little domestic amy and rory thing. during pond life or the power of three? all fluffy and stuff :)

domestic

“What are you doing?” Amy stops elbow-deep in a brown paper grocery bag, hazel eyes going wide as she stares at her husband across the kitchen.

Rory, for his part, continues unpacking. “I’m putting away the groceries, what does it look like I’m doing?”

“What’d you do with the sauce?”

“Put it in the cupboard,” he says dryly, “You know, where it belongs.”

“It belongs in the fridge.”

He stills, hands full of packs of biscuits, and blinks at her. “No, sauce belongs in the cupboard.”

“What? No, it’ll go bad faster. You’ve got to keep it chilled and fresh.” Amy marches over to rectify the situation.

Rory drops the biscuits onto the counter and moves to stop her. “It doesn’t need to be chilled, especially if it’s not even open yet.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says breezily, trying to duck around him.

He plants a hand on her stomach and holds her back. “Ah, I think you’re the one who doesn’t know what they’re talking about,” he replies, clearly offended.

“Rory, come on,” she says patronisingly.

“Amy,” he says in the same tone, “I spend way more time in the kitchen than you, I think I know where the sauce goes.”

“Obviously not, or you’d put it in the fridge,” she snaps. “And you do not spend way more time in the kitchen than me! I’ve cooked every night this week!”

“We got take out two nights,” Rory points out.

Amy will not be stopped, however, passionately insisting, “I’ve cooked three nights this week!”

“Oh, wow, three nights worth of cooking -”

“And how many nights have you cooked, mister?” She jabs him hard in the chest with her index finger.

He swats her hand away and shrugs. “None, but -”

“None! I rest my case.”

“-But I’ve been working nights this week so it doesn’t count!” 

“It does so count! I cook three delicious meals for you and you just ignore them -”

“Would you really call them delicious?” Rory mutters, and immediately regrets it.

Amy’s eyes narrow dangerously. “That pie was a masterpiece.”

Figuring that he’s already dead, Rory decides to just go for it. “It was a little dry...”

“It just needed some sauce!” she yells.

“You just need some sauce!” he yells back, reaching behind him to grab the sauce off the shelf.

A mad tug-o-war ensues, in which Amy just about climbs up him to try and reach the bottle he’s holding over his head. He unscrews the lid and madly scratches at the silver freshness seal over the top. 

“Give that to me!” his wife shouts in his ear

“Oh, you want the sauce?” he taunts, stumbling back and knocking his hip on the counter.

“Rory, I swear to god -” With one last violent sweep, Amy manages to knock the sauce bottle from Rory’s hand.

Right as he got the seal undone.

Knocked free, the bottle turns upside down and before either of them have a chance to realise what’s happened they’re both covered in sauce.

“Oh my god!” Amy shrieks, finally letting go of Rory to try and wipe the sticky red sauce out of her eyes. It’s splattered over her shoulders, her chest, the entire length of the arm she’d had outstretched.

Rory hasn’t fared any better. He can feel sauce dripping from his head down the nape of his neck, beneath his collar. It’s all over his shoulders and a bit has gotten in his ear.

The kitchen is as much of a mess as they are.

Amy stops shaking her arms as Rory cradles her face in his hands and leans in to kiss her. Gentle and soft and completely at odds with their mad struggle a few seconds earlier.

“What are you doing?” she asks when they part.

Rory smiles. “You taste like sauce.”

[bananannabeth]

amy’s melody

the absolutely lovely karengillcn gave me a bunch of prompts far too long ago and i’m so so sorry that i’m only just writing them up now, but better late than never, right?

prompt:

between the almost people and a good man goes to war when like rory and the doctor are looking for amy and then she has melody in that room and then madame kovarian and people do whatever they did to her. like super angsty. and sad. make me cry.

Amy has been hurt before. She’s no stranger to injuries, growing up as a rough and tumble tomboy, blossoming into a beautiful young woman not afraid to hit anyone who dared make a lewd comment about the length of her skirt. She’s experienced her fair share of scrapes and small injuries travelling with the Doctor, too. And that’s just the physical stuff. That’s not even counting the emotional pain of losing her parents, being told she was crazy for most of her life, losing Rory, almost losing the Doctor... Amy Pond is used to pain. She can handle it. But not this pain.

Not this time. She is being torn in two, literally ripped down the middle, and she has lost all control of her body and all control of this entire situation and never before in her entire life has Amelia Pond ever felt this scared. 

How could this be happening? How could she go from standing on the TARDIS with the Doctor and Rory to lying on her back in this strange, sterile room giving birth when she wasn’t even pregnant five minutes ago?

A scream tears itself from her throat, raw and jagged and oh god is this pain ever going to end she sobs. 

There are other people in the room, but she can’t make them out. Everything is a haze of pain, blurred shapes and distant voices and unfamiliar hands touching her. 

“Push,” a voice says by her ear. “Push.”

Amy doesn’t want to, she doesn’t want to do anything that the strange, menacing voice tells her to, but her body is betraying her. She has no choice. She pushes, and she feels like she is dying, and where is Rory, Rory is supposed to be here but he’s not, Amy is utterly alone and she is going to have to save herself this time.

So she listens to her body, betrayer that it is, and pushes. She pushes and tries to remember how to breathe and she can do this, she can, she can, she can...

And then suddenly it stops. The pain isn’t quite so severe anymore, and then she hears it. Cutting through the haze, there’s a cry.

It’s her baby.

She’s had a baby. She’s a mum.

“Congratulations, it’s a girl,” the same cold voice as before says.

Hands hold her baby daughter up, and Amy sees her pink face, her round cheeks, her little arms and legs flailing. Her exhaustion ebbs away at the sight and she reaches for her.

Her baby is placed in her arms, and Amy’s heart swells. The baby stills, comforted by her mother’s heartbeat, and Amy can’t believe that she can feel so much love for someone that she’s only just met. She hasn’t felt this much innate responsibility for anyone since Mels.

“Oh, look at you,” she cooes, gently cradling her soft head. “My little baby. My little.... Melody.”

“Melody? Is that what you’re calling her?”

“Melody Pond,” Amy says, barely aware of the other people in the room. “My Melody Pond.”

“How lovely,” that voice says. A woman with an eyepatch steps up beside her and grabs at Melody.

Amy swings violently to the side, forcing her own body between them. But she is overwhelmed and outnumbered. Strong hands push her back into her pillows and her sweet little daughter is wrenched from her grasp, tearful cries echoing around the white room.

 “No, you can’t have her! What are you doing, don’t take her, no, not Melody, give her back, bring her back to me!”

“We’re just taking her for some tests,” the woman says. “And then you can have her right back.”

“What?” Amy’s voice is raspy, desperate. “Where are you taking her? What are you doing with her?”

But no one answers. They take her daughter and they inject something in Amy’s arm that makes her sluggish and helpless. The last thing she sees before the world goes black is Melody’s little foot, pink and so small and so impossibly far away as these strangers steal her away.

[ponderingthegalaxies-blog]

I was tagged by my darling baby steph to do the 20 beautiful people challenge. I have no idea what you’re supposed to do once you get tagged but here are 2 of my recent instagram selfies???

[dorothycastlemore]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!! :DDD

Thanks, Natasha!

[nerdwithaknife]

4 :)

the best thing that has happened to me this week

Well, that’s gonna be a bit difficult as it’s been a really shitty week and really won’t get better.

Three friends of mine who were looking for an apartment got one and it’s really close to mine. that’s nice. well they did have a horrible fight with the fourth friend they were originally searching with and I’m in the middle of it and it’s all really stressfull. but they did get an apartment near me.