#experimentingwithbackcombing

battle-weary, battle-torn, war-ridden, "all y'all are in a tussle"

I think it's a good idea to shop around as far as graduate schools go. Like do research about the field & the actual schools until your eyes bleed. You can also usually talk to people on the faculty, too, about their program & life after grad school.

Oh man, in my head, Tony is perpetually three years old and toddles along after the Doctor when he comes over to visit and refuses to let him out of his sight no matter what even if the Doctor has to use the loo.

She stared at him, every muscle in her body tensed as she fought not to retch. Between the heat, the humidity, and the scents of the market, it took all her concentration.

The Doctor waggled the popsicle in her direction. She physically recoiled. He took it back with a hurt look and followed her away from the market stall.

Usually she loved this, when he dove headfirst into Pete’s World the way he used to dive headfirst into the universe, and their trips through Asia seemed to bring him back to his most innate self; the lush jungles, winding rivers, dense cities, and almost alien rural landscapes brought out the tireless explorer in him, curious and brazen and enthusiastic to a fault. And, much like when they had the TARDIS and all of time and space at their disposal, every trip made her fall even more in love with him.

But everything, everyone, had a limit. And she had just found hers, in a small stall in the furthest corner of this Thai market and the durian ice cream the Doctor was licking in a way he usually preferred to lick her.

He seemed to catch the direction of her thoughts because he wiggled his eyebrows at her and took another suggestive lick. 

*blushes*

T. AGE I GET MISTAKEN FOR:

Well, at least 17. Typically anywhere from 16-21. (I’m actually not even 15 yet)

E. MY BEST FRIEND:

Well, I’d say I have two/three. One is Elizabeth (if-i-stay-where-she-went) and she’s honestly one of my favorite people ever and she means the world to me. Another is Riley who I haven’t known as long but I’m just as close with and a third is Colin (feetlost)who is without a doubt the sweetest guy to ever exist. I could honestly go on about them for decades so I’ll stop there.

N. FAVORITE PLACE TO SHOP AT:

Barnes & Noble because I adore reading and Express for clothes because while it’s expense, it’s so me.

V. LAST TIME I CRIED.

During some ridiculous hullabaloo about making Christmas plans with my family, for reasons I won't get into here - suffice it to say that my family can be quite...forceful, and it makes things very stressful for doormat-inclined individuals like myself.

O. MY EYE COLOUR.

Plain old brown. I'm quite fond of my eyes, though. :D

R. FAVOURITE SONG AT THE MOMENT.

Haha answered this one twice already, but HAVE YET ANOTHER. :D You've Got Time by Regina Spektor.

T. AGE I GET MISTAKEN FOR.

Answered! :)

E. MY BEST FRIEND.

Answered this one as well! But besides her, definitely the Mr. :)

X. WHAT WOULD YOU DO IF (…)?

His eyes crack open slowly, one slightly more than the other. His head feels like it has taken on the mass of a dwarf star. Up out of too deep a sleep, something he was still getting used to having to do more frequently.

Something scratches against his chest, and he realizes what awoke him in the first place. Her hand is the inadvertent offender, her left arm splayed out across him in sleep.  Her head is turned away from him, the blonde tangle of her hair all he can see in the dim light. The sapphire of her ring has taken a layer of skin as its bounty, but not enough to bleed. He lifts her arm gently, setting it beside him. With a soft snort accompanied by a rustle of sheets, and she rolls over to face him.

He grins at her, though he’s not sure that she’s actually woken up. Her half blinks accompany an adorably unaware smile before she snuffles into his shoulder. Her other hand comes up to lay on his chest, unconsciously smoothing the prior damage as her breath soon evens out again.

A light breeze flows in from the open balcony door, and he closes his eyes as it gently ruffles his hair, making the sheet briefly balloon before falling back over them both. The night lights of Paris are yet casting their pinky glow about the room. He briefly smiles as La Vie En Rose trips through his brain- Audrey Hepburn wasn’t lying about the colour.