wisteria --- ( WRITING ) ! P/U: PTERO.

[Syuura]

@ tosh; lmaoooo doesn't everyone dramallama
but i've been so desensitized xD
getting meh marks don't really devastate me anymore and i should be worried.
i'm prolly gonna have to start studying for exams next month ; n;

@ ribbun; I SEE AN OCTOMAID NAMED RIBBUN

[peacecrafting]

o Ao !

[French Vanilla]

j i n n i - y i

omg this thread moves fast *A*
yaaah I was quite intimidated to post cause I disappeared OTL

but yeee, really? *A*.. <33
/finds - it was on page 42! /pastes ;v;

===
OC2 -The only ones she trusts are her two wolves.
===

bawww jinni seki sort of just...
made up a million things about your OC. sobsob
if you hate it seki can rewrite. ; O ;

Long ago, when she is much younger and weaker, they too are tiny and frail. They play and find that claws and teeth are a no-no with her and quickly learn how much they hate the scent of her blood in the air. It is infuriating and horrible; it grips them by the collar and shows them violence, only she is there, a voice rough from disuse rattling as she hums. Her small, child's hands reach for them and stroke patterns onto their heads and their ears and the path of carnage they see falls from their eyes. They teach her how to hunt and how to run, how to be more than human and more than breakable - they become her eyes in the dark and her ears when she cries. This is long ago and now she is a creature made from the curves and lines of their howls.

There are stories about her, myths spread about a girl of white mist and white wilderness. She is a ghost, a monster, a halfbreed that no one wants - she is a warning and a threat, but all they do is whisperwhisper about wolves and legends swell and grow with each retelling. In their world, crafted by words and faith and fear, she haunts the corners of impossibility. Reality proves them all wrong, because she is more than a myth and more than a legend; she is the rush of sound echoing within stone mountains, a sharp, resounding rustle of ivory that soars on restless wings. She spends her days in simple purchases, in the breath of cool river water murmuring past her legs, the scent of tree bark and life steady under her hands and feet; daylight is precious and warm under sunshine and velvet clouds. The rumble of earth beneath her skin is as real as the wolves at her side, nipping, growling, nuzzling at her heart. This girl of white mist and white wilderness is not human the way most are and so she cannot name the curls of shimmering gold dust floating in her lungs or the familiar touch of lullabies in her heart.

Her nights are spent swallowed between two heavy heartbeats, thumping insistently at her back and by her ear. They are the hearts that beat outside of her ribcage, but she knows their rhythms, the curious ba-bump ba-dump ba-bump ba-dump, as well as her own. One of them shifts and the brush of fur along her skin is like a silent sigh singing to her. She digs her hands into the ruffle of fur, digs into the unknown and unspeakable language they share; human words seem vulgar and contrived, but they never have problems communicating without them. It is not like her to ponder this too much or worry about too long; they simply are and she understands that best of all.

She falls asleep between the two songs that burn by her sides and give to her to gift of home and love.

[French Vanilla]

@ syuura:
sobbb I think I am losing my ability to write.
; O ;
// dies

@ tosh:
eeeeh am sorry !
// tries to sooth anxious tosh

@ ribbun:
you are such a diligent thread maid. ; v ;
// cuddles

@ knight:
seki misses you. OTL
where have you been ?

@ tezu:
tezuuuuu ~ <333333

[Syuura]

pffffffft NO ; A;

i shall try for a slot!

may i have another 500 word story involving amon and avis again? * u*
this time avis ditches his hot date because he found out that amon was sick at home. then he goes and nurses him to health. fluff ensues?

can it be in avis' pov? the tense is up to you!

offerin 70k! C:

[French Vanilla]

ooh interesting.
is that first, second, or third person then ?
or can it be any of them ?

[Syuura]

can it be in first person please? C:

i'll send the trade? * v*

[French Vanilla]

ooh first person.
that sounds be a fun challenge.
I haven`t done any in first person... ever I think.

* O *

yes, send trade please ~

[peacecrafting]

finished with stats project. * u*
research paper.
just calc homework which is supa easy and ... high school is almost over ~~~~~
T AT TIME TO REPAY THAT SLEEP DEBT !!!!!! ~

@ everyone - hiiiiiiii

@ syuura - i, being a creepy stalker/fan of nilla's writing, read her drabble for your ocs. 8D
i'd like to mention that i find their dynamic insanely adorable and awesome. yes. |D

[French Vanilla]

TEZU YOU CAN DO IT.
ily. <33333333


and baaaaw, that is sweet of you.
do you stalk and read my doctor who fics too?

[Syuura]

oh really? i'm really looking forward to it then * A* <3

@ mister; haha ikr ; u; her writing make them come aliiiiive!

[French Vanilla]

no syuura they are alive and super cute by themselves already.
OTL

seki butchers them mercilessly though.

[peacecrafting]

@ nilla - to be honest, the only thing i fear doing later on is taking the driver license's test LMAO .. everything else should be smooth sailing. * A*

AND NO I HAVE NOT READ THOSE BUT I READ EVERYTHING ON YOUR LIVEJOURNAL ..
i like in lieu of kindness, zephuu's commission yes yes.

|D if you want, post the doctor who ones here to save me some stalking ???

@ syuura - she's like .. : |
the rat talisman for jackie chan
MAKE INANIMATE THINGS COME TO LIFE IDK

[Syuura]

LIES D;

srsly, your writing is so beautiful ; v;

@ mister; LMAO i miss that show

[French Vanilla]

oooh you have been reading ILK have you?
sob that reminds me that I am really behind on that.
I have another three or four chapters to go.
// should work on that tomorrow

Here is your compilation tezu. <3

one .


His pain, so raw and hot, is smoldering in him when even the basest of things, when even words were denied him and he knew then that time lords could waste time, because he had wasted his. He has forever, but she doesn't, and that has been the thorn between them all along.

Oh how he cried, cried for the girl with sunshine in her smile and sunshine in her voice. How he cried for the man who was left in the dark, a tear for every word that neither of them would ever hear.


two .


He has finally shaken most of his old habits - no urges to lick mysterious substances or taste odd looking green gloop. He dislikes apples and has only a passing fondness for bananas. There are no suits and no leather jackets, no freckles or rumbling vocal chords. This new form is new and young - younger than he has been in a long time, and both his hearts whisper the reason why; she makes him young - she shapes his face during each regeneration, the shadow of her warmth and her light filtering through him; he grows younger and younger and each time with a face more and more suited for smiling. The new teeth are a bit strange and the combination of fish and custard is so absolutely fantastic that he is not sure why he has never loved it before.

But Rose is more than a habit. A flower girl on cobbled streets and a wicker basket - a child's rehearsed and repeated "Would you like a rose, sir?" and his mind is swimming. The cheerful grin he beams for the world is as fake as his calm when he says, quite winningly, "Why yes, I would love one," (he skirts her name like it is holy ground) and his hand trembles the slightest bit when he takes the lush pink blossom from her.

She is everywhere around him and Amy - well, Amy is great, but Amy is Amy and definitely not Rose. She is magnificent and bold and Amy, which is good if only because he does not think he can withstand another Rose. His hearts thump achingly in agreement and he wonders why this young body feels so old.


three .


Amy is a good kisser, oh yes. It should not surprise him since she was working as a kissogram, but moments ago this woman was a girl who barely reached his knees. She had made bangers and mash and beans for him and now that girl is gripping his shirt and reaching for him, eager and lost. It is not fair that the only thing he can think of is the beach and the him that got to have the one adventure the Doctor never could. His lips burn with the press of fire and gold, the weight of laughter dear and heavy against his mouth, heavier than any figment of memory has the right to be.

He wonders, when she is kissing him, if this is how Rose kissed the half he left on the beach. Is it possible to be insanely jealous of himself?

Yes, he quite thinks it is, so he pushes her off of him and resolves to fix things between her and her boyfriend while desperately grabbing for the braces that have slipped past his shoulders.

Amelia Pond is sweet and sharp and a little bit rash, but he knows she is just afraid of being left behind again. He is adventure and novelty and never ending escape from mundane life and mundane obligation, but she is not truly suited to an eternal life of wandering. She is earthy and ambitious - she will want to leave him and settle one day. It's okay, because he knows this the moment he invites her to the TARDIS.

A life of wandering is lonely, but once upon a time he had found someone who wanted to wander with him.

And even though he has left her behind, he still believes in Rose Tyler.


four .


There is sand pouring everywhere, from her eyes, from her mind, rushing from the inside of her bones to stick hotly onto her nerves. Amy tries not to scream and tries not to hope he can fix it, because it means she trusts him again even though he has kept her waiting for years. But he comes, he always comes, however late, and saves her from her fear.

At night she secretly counts down the minutes until he will waltz out of her life again and swears this time she will be okay. The Doctor believes it too - some people will miss him, of course, but they find happiness after. Maybe that is why he picks her, because he knows that even without him, Amelia Pond will pick up her life where she leaves it and be fine. And Rose, he had been sure that Rose was the same and maybe she was, but Rose is different.

He needed Rose and that had changed everything. 


five .


This is his third bowl of custard and he is dismayed to find he has finished off the fish. What a catastrophe - how will he ever cope without quite possibly the most marvelous thing since his sonic screwdriver (TARDIS not included, because she is alive and beautiful and not a thing)? After dealing with River the entire time, he just wants his fish and custard and his memories to be left in perfect peace for a moment. Amy screams that she has found the pool, and he is off, curious as to see where it is now. A new TARDIS, a new pool.

But Rose's room stays untouched in the same place it has always been.


six .


The Doctor is not afraid of many things, but she strikes fear in him in ways no one has before. He has changed and she is the same and somehow the uncertainty as to whether they will be the same is as damning as blood on his hands. He finds that they aren't - her megawatt smile that shines even when the sun doesn't lights their way though, so they fall into a chaotic joy that is as great and gripping as what they had before. He is different, she says, not good or bad, just different. Different is okay, he thinks, because somehow even if he is, they are the same in all the ways that count.

Christmas is a rather odd and charming human holiday. For once he spends it the way he should, sharing everything that matters with the person that means the most. She gives him peace.

Next Christmas, all he will see is the blonde toss of hair in the corner of his eyes and the touch of her jacket lingers in his palm. The snow will be real and he will be a stranger, but she lives, he tells himself, and that is the only thing he will have to keep him warm at night.

her name was rose


seven.


Traveling with Amy is a lesson in guilt and self-loathing. She starts bright and magnificent, the way only children can be, and quickly turns into one of those mysterious human puzzles that he has never been able to grasp. Sometimes he thinks he sees flashes of Rose in her – when she grabs for his secrets and when she is unapologetic as demands everything he can give. But she is not Rose, he reminds himself, because Amy is brash and invasive and scared of herself.

The TARDIS console hums under his palms, warm, alive, here. She reminds him that even when he travels alone, he has her, his beautiful TARDIS. The Doctor strokes the coral panels and can feel an echo of Rose’s laughter, sparkling, impossible, trickle through the TARDIS’ song.

He remembers that once upon a time, a brave, fragile human had looked into the heart of his ship and his TARDIS had looked into her. Maybe, he thinks, maybe Rose is still here – that a small part of her that has been left in this brilliant, shining core and even the smallest idea that they are together, connected somehow, comforts him.

“It’s been a while?” Amy’s whispered voice floats back to him now and his body thrums with the memory of big brown eyes lit by mortal hope and the tears of that love still tear at him. It has been too long and not long enough (because even though he is a Time Lord, the Oncoming Storm, the Destroyer of Worlds, it will never be long enough to forget Rose).

Rory is angry and upset when he strikes out at him (almost a bit like Jackie this one, only he does not think Rory makes tea quite as well) and all he can hear are those words, ringing as they drag up memories of a broken and twisted Davros. This is what he makes them; his companions, his Children of Time; he makes them into dangers to themselves and that is why they all leave him eventually. Amy will too, one day.

Rose would have stayed with him forever, forever, here in the TARDIS with her Doctor. He saves the worlds and the universes all the time. He is the Doctor with two hearts and the weight of Time pressing down on his chest – he can not belong to just one person, not even to himself.

Secretly, his TARDIS knows that he belongs to her and the girl who taught them that happiness is not a fairytale.