So Question.

Hello! Accepting fic prompts!

Hi, I just wanted to mention that I’m taking prompts to write oneshots, I’ll at least attempt most pairings for Doctor Who (New Who only, I’m sorry!), I’m also open to Janto and Owen/Tosh or Owen/Gwen Torchwood stuff. Okay! Letting you know!

A Letter to the Doctor

Pairing: Tentoo/Rose, Ten/Rose mentions

Rating: PG for very very mild angst

Dear Doctor,

That sounds so weird. I'm very used to hearing other people call you that, of course I am. People yell it at you, threaten you with it, insult you with it, thank you with it, laugh it out admiringly. It's just weird to say it myself.Well, this whole idea is weird, isn't it? Writing to you, I mean. I don't even really know that you're going to read this, just have the assurance of a madman and the tiniest little tear in the universe, like a crack in a wall, only big enough to send a small signal through. But we had to try, didn't we?I'm the one writing the letter because Dad thinks it would be pointless for him to do it, and Mum...well...let me explain.

They were stuck on Earth for five years, while the TARDIS was growing. It was helped along by everything Torchwood had. Dad won't even tell me what all was used. Even then, five years was impossibly fast. But it was enough time to get things started.Mum had trouble, at first, of course. For a long time, she says, she was so uncomfortable with it, with him. But he won her over. Little ways. He never acted very different, Mum says, a little moodier, a little darker, but all the same mannerisms, the same clothes (well, excepting of course the odd lazy day in jeans or sweats and a galaxy tshirt he appparently found and loved), the same smile. But he did do something a lot different.

He took her on dates. Very reserved things, picnics, beach walks, fancy dinners. Sometimes they just stayed in. Dad would play Mum music on the piano and the guitar, and sing with it, pretty Gallifreyan songs from his childhood, his favorites. He'd tell her stories he'd apparently planned to tell her before...you know. They'd talk all about where they'd go when the TARDIS was up and ready. And finally Mum just...accepted it. I think that's my favorite story.

So Dad tells it (and I do love when he does, what a storyteller my old dad is), he was meddling with some little bit of the TARDIS (which mysteriously has a broken chamelion circuit. Can you guess what the old girl looks like?) when she walked in and just hugged him from behind. And he just looked around and raised his eyebrows at her, all confused, and she asked "Can we go back to New Earth? The last time was a bit iffy, but..." And he knew, right then, that she was seeing him again. Really seeing just him and not that body he was in.

He did take her to New Earth, by the way. He proposed to her on the applegrass covered ridge, d'you remember that place?The ring's beautiful, a little blue band with a perfect (alright, almost) white diamond on top, cut over a nova pattern made of real stardust. Dad went all out on it, made it himself with help from our old girl. Mum still shows it to me everytime she tells the story.

The wedding was in a little church in London. There were some human things, Mum walked down the aisle and had the white dress and all, but the main part was a Time Lord ceremony. And only Gran, Gramps, and Tony were invited. That one's my second favorite story. They let me go watch it last month, from behind a door. Don't worry, no one saw me, no paradoxes. I cried.

I was born a year after they got the TARDIS working, as we were landing on Earth. Mum and Dad still call me Earth Girl all the time. That was eighteen years ago. I've grown up in the TARDIS, traveling, exploring. They took me to Barcelona for my last birthday, the planet not the city. And yes, we do keep track of birthdays, albeit a bit oddly. Mum's got the details, I just play along.I love every minute of this. I've even managed to keep in touch with a couple of kids on Earth, Rory, Amy, and Clara. Dad loves them, loves showing off around them. So do I, but don't tell him I said that. They've come with us once or twice. He keeps us away from too many life-or-death problems. Well, he tries...I asked Mum whether she had anything to say to you. She smiled and said she had one thing to say.

She's having a fantastic life with you, here.

Dad says that by the time you get this, you'll probably have regenerated once or twice. Are you ginger this time?

It's weird though, again, isn't it? I hope you still like how you look, and how you act, and that you still remember Mum and Dad. I hope you haven't worried too much about them, or missed her too badly. Who knows, maybe you'll see us at some point. It'd be fun to see how Dad reacts to what would have been future him.I guess the point I was trying to make was that we're happy here, all three of us (soon to be four!), and we hope that wherever you are, whatever's happened since, that you're still running. Because I think that if the Doctor ever stopped running, the stars would go out because they missed him so much. Keep going, Doctor. Have a fantastic life, for us.

All our love,

Donna Jackie (That's me, hello!)

Rose Tyler

The Doctor

PS: I have attempted to attach a picture of us on New Earth last week. I hope you like it, especially Dad's beard stubble and my hair. Blue tips on blonde, good, yeah? I'm thinking of going ginger next.

We’re just... Having fun sprEading some wonderfuL Positivity. That’s all.

“We’re just... Having fun sprEading some wonderfuL Positivity. That’s all.”

I’m a humble theorist, my poor lost friend, Can’t see why Anyone wouldn’t waNt thaT in their lives.

(ok one last observation for now then maybe I’m done but-)

When Mark was in the height of his rage, we got this fiery display of sparks and chaos.  

Then, in the post credits scene, we see Damien walking out of the cabin. 

Looking back at this scene, I loved the detail how the grass (which wasn’t there before, another sign of Spring with the flower? To show Winter’s over and that Damien is no longer trapped?) itself is affected by similar red effects.

Maybe it’s nothing. Maybe it’s emotional insight of what Damien is feeling.

Thanks for the recent love on my Anti theories, and on my Schneep story. You guys are so sweet. :)

A Really Rather Dumb Bet (Schneep and Chase Drabble).

A/N: Because everyone needs a little more fluff and comedy for these two fools.

The horrid crashing sound was more than enough to send Henrik careening out of bed. It wasn't as if he wasn't used to loud noises, he made plenty of them himself and hell, he was good friends with Jack. It was just that this particular loud sound had been made at two o'clock in the morning when he'd thought he was alone in the house. Anyone else might have been inclined to do something rational, like call the police or go back to sleep. Henrik, however, knew much better, which was why he swung his door open with great gusto, walking confidently into the living room, brandishing a stethoscope like a garrot and yelling "WHO IS IT ZAT DARES TO DISTURB ZE REST OFF ZE GREAT HENRIK VON SCHNEEPLESTEIN?! VHAT CRIMINAL IS STUPID ENOUGH TO CONTEST HIM?!" Honestly, even in the fluorescent pink pajama shorts and haphazard glasses, he struck an intimidating figure. What greeted him was not an awestruck-and-or-blinded-by-the-neon-PJs burgler, but a broken window, a collapsed side table, a few scattered remote pieces and magazine pages, and a very dissheveled, very drunk, widely grinning Chase Brody. "DOC! AH'M -hic- SO HAPPY TAH SEEEE YOOOOOU!" This was met with a blank stare, to which Chase pouted considerably. "Aw, c'mon -hic- Schneeps, you've gotta be h-hic-happy to see me too. I hav'n ev'n seen you in like...like...ever!" "Chase, vhat ze fuck?" The good doctor shook his head and went to help his terribly inebriated friend to sit on the couch. "First off all, vhy are you here at two in ze morgen?" "Because I wanna see-" "See me, ya, I got zhat. Sank you, ze sought is appreciated." Clearly he wasn't going to get a better explanation. "Second question, zhen: vhy did you come through ze vindow?" "The door was locked." He would have facepalmed if he'd had a free arm that wasn't busy trying to shove said window back into the gaping hole it'd created on the way down. "Off course. And vhy are you drunk as an Irish sailing skunk?" "Because Marv gave me -hic- some awesome whiskey! And bet me -hic hic- I couldn't finish it all in one go! I won! Ha!" Chase laughed. The laughing quickly turned into a vague wretching. He turned very green and Henrik didn't wait to be asked before he pointed down the hall to the open bathroom door. For a drunk man, Chase moved surprisingly quickly and with surprisingly few casualties. Henrik only had to dive to catch one vase and three paintings before the door shut behind him. He sighed. Tomorrow, he supposed, he'd have to get some more answers out of that man, and a sound apology from Marvin. Tonight, though, he simply went to the closet in the hall and pulled the door open to reveal a set of shelves with extra linens on them. He ran a finger down the edges of the shelving. JJ, Marvin, Angus, Robbie...ah, there it is! Chase. He pulled out a set of Nerf sheets, and began to make up a bed on the couch. BANG! CRASH! THUMP! "Hennnnnn-!"

Sigh.

He stood, straightening his shorts. A doctor's duties never cease.

should anyone be interested, and because these are actually writing/artsy related. go for it! i’ll answer to the best of my ability. :)

identity ask.........oh shit

if someone wanted to really understand you, what would they read, watch, and listen to?

have you ever found a writer who thinks just like you? if so, who?

list your fandoms and one character from each that you identify with.

do you like your name?  is there another name you think would fit you better?

do you think of yourself as a human being or a human doing? do you identify yourself by the things you do?

are you religious/spiritual?

do you care about your ethnicity?

what musical artists have you most felt connected to over your lifetime?

are you an artist?

do you have a creed?

describe your ideal day.

dog person or cat person?

inside or outdoors?

are you a musician?

five most influential books over your lifetime.

if you’d grown up in a different environment, do you think you’d have turned out the same?

would you say your tumblr is a fair representation of the “real you”?

what’s your patronus?

which Harry Potter house would you be in? or are you a muggle?

would you rather be in Middle Earth, Narnia, Hogwarts, or somewhere else?

do you love easily?

list the top five things you spend the most time doing, in order.

how often would you want to see your family every year?

have you ever felt like you had a “mind-meld” with someone?

could you live as a hermit?

how would you describe your gender/sexuality?

do you feel like your outside appearance is a fair representation of the “real you”?

on a scale from 1 to 10, how hard is it for someone to get under your skin?

three songs that you connect with right now.

pick one of your favorite quotes.

Hmmmmmm.

Okay. So! I’m thinking these are locations and/or people that have a connection to Wil.

-”Springf_....” (Springfield?)

-”Florid_...” (Florida, probably)

-”Tuscany” (...as in Italy??)

-”Next???” (Probably questioning where he’s going to be next or what he’s going to do next)

-”_aldorf Juniper” (Waldorf, I’m assuming. But I’ve no idea what Juniper means.)

-”_a Jaka Baka” (...what.)

-”_son Jackson” (PLEASE LET THIS BE JAMESON JACKSON OHHHH THAT WOULD BE A COOL CROSSOVER FOR STORY REASONS)

It just doesn’t add up…

Is anyone else getting Coraline vibes from this? Do something “small” in exchange for eternal happiness? Something’s not right about all this...

Echoes (A Middle-of-the-Night Drabble)

Frisk thought they had never seen anything as beautiful as an Echo Flower. It looked almost as if it were a negative image of a sunflower, the colors reversed and strangely fluorescent, blues and whites that seemed to light up the dark marsh around them, otherworldly and wonderful, in the original sense of the word. Their appearance wasn’t even the strangest part of them however. Frisk swore, as they walked past, they heard one of the funny plants talk.

Now, given their previous encounter with talking flowers had been not altogether pleasant, Frisk was understandably cautious about getting too close to the whispering blooms. But Sans had mentioned Echo Flowers, back in Snowdin, and they thought perhaps their caution was unfounded, and that perhaps the echoes might be worth listening to. They had always been a supremely curious child, anyway. So they took a cautious step closer to the nearest flower.

It was surprisingly hard to get to, surrounded by so much vegetation and growth that Frisk was led to believe that it had been a very long time since anyone had stood close to the flower at all. This assumption was reinforced by the faintness of the recording, but it was not impossible to understand what was being said. A young voice spoke up first, the sound of splashing footsteps suggesting two small monsters were passing at the time of the recording. “They say you can make a wish on echo flowers. What’s your wish?” It was hard to tell whether the voice was male or female. Perhaps it was neither, mused Frisk with a chuckle. They wandered on to the next plant, mimicking the long-forgotten conversationalists’ path. “I...don’t wanna tell.” This voice sounded as if it’d come from a young boy. He seemed to be afraid of something. Apparently the other voice had surmised this as well, because they promptly asked what it was he was afraid of. Frisk continued to the next plant, fancying they could see two ghostly figures walking in front of them. In their fantasy, the two figures were silent until they reached the next plant, a few feet down the marsh. “I’m afraid you’ll laugh at me.” “I promise I won’t!” the first voice assured the boy, and in Frisk’s mind, they could practically see the child clap the shoulder of the other confidently. Frisk smiled as they imagined the first voice as a human, like themselves, striped sweater and all. The other, a monster child, Frisk decided, sighed and looked away. “Alright.” He paused for a long moment. “My wish is to see the stars.” The human child seemed to nod, and smile. This turned into a small laugh as they reached the next flower. Another, further on, had the monster child, who had white fur, Frisk thought, annoyed, saying “You promised you wouldn’t laugh!” “Sorry,” the first child said, still smiling, “It’s just funny.” “What?” Frisk seemed to watch them round the corner as the conversation drew to a close, and they ran out of echo flowers. “That’s my wish, too.”

Frisk felt oddly sad, hearing the end of that conversation. It felt faintly familiar to them, as if they’d heard it on some TV show they’d loved when they were younger, barely remembered. But they were sure they’d never heard it before, and wondered at the image they’d seen, the fantasy they’d drawn up. It’d seemed so real, the children seeming like they’d come to life with their voices barely echoed back by the flowers that’d lived up to their names. Had they really imagined it all? Who knew? This whole place was full of magic and strange life. Perhaps more than just their voices had been caught, frozen in time by this strange place.