I AM LOST.

﹙ 𝐄𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐈𝐓𝐘 is a hoof with unanswerable sounds, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚟𝚘𝚒𝚍 𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚎. ﹚  ––  my dream is to fall apart, to cry for a century, but i have not cried.  𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑎𝑡 𝑎𝑙𝑙.

[spacials]

𝑤𝑒𝑙𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑙𝑜𝑠𝑡 . . . !

this is a private writing blog for an original character, technically a reboot of one that i created like . . . man . . . just about seven years ago! so, yes, the concept is definitely dated, but i wanted to try my hand at bringing a character who was previously named gallifreya (hehe) into a more modern interpretation. the way i’m approaching this blog is an exploration of space drama / dramedy. gracie tyler is the daughter of rose tyler and the metacrisis doctor, corin. i will never force this canon on anyone who doesn’t want it and can happily adjust if you’d still like to write but don’t feel that fits your universe – just let me know! i won’t be offended in the least.

𝑏𝑎𝑠𝑖𝑐𝑠 . . . !

though i recognize this is the most goofy fanon-y, bad fanfic concept, and i will definitely make a lot of jokes about that hehe, i do ask you be nice generally! if you really hate this idea just like . . . don’t follow me!

typical rules apply, no godmodding, etc. i will unfollow if you are racist, transphobic, sexist, homophobic, lesbophobic, and otherwise anything gross. i will reblog both resource posts regarding current global issues when needed and will also reblog callouts when warranted – all will be tagged as best as possible.

though gracie is an extremely human character, knowing myself and my love for horror there’s likely to be the following triggers from time to time, tagged but something i would like to warn everyone about in advance anyway! body horror, descriptions of gore/violence, etc. 

though gracie is going to be set in her early to mid twenties and therefore of age, i don’t care to write sexual content in depth. it’ll be rare to be mentioned, even, at least in any way more than just a joke or a loose reference or smth.

gracie is a concept more than anyth rn! i’d love to plot w ppl to decide just how she manages to start traveling, what she ends up doing with her life, etc. at the core of her story, gracie is unhappy with herself, lost in terms of motivation, and aching for meaning. she is absolutely, undoubtedly, human. she thinks that maybe, somewhere, there’s a bigger truth to her, or that she’s more capable, maybe one day she’ll find out she’s a goddess reincarnated, or the destined champion of a far off world. anything but this, that she is now – just a girl. just a person.

anw all to say my biggest concern on this blog is that i am not up to date on dw and really just going based on what i liked about it when i watched it – i’m really trying to build a newer canon that’s a little separate from the source in some ways and just wanna have a little fun hehe. i may not be absolutely brilliant abt lore so feel free to let me know if smth sounds wrong but also understand if ur a dick abt it i will ignore u. this is the law

𝑟𝑒𝑔𝑎𝑟𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑔𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑖𝑒 . . . !

gracie tyler, daughter of rose and corin tyler, has spent her entire life wanting to be special. though her mother and father were never unsupportive, she always felt isolated and lost in her own body, whereas her sister seemed to thrive. when it came time for university, gracie’s sister thoroughly impressed the family with a passion for biology, and looked to be on track to become a great, innovative mind in the field one day. meanwhile, gracie thought herself lacking. she faced rejection after rejection from colleges, and lacked any concrete calling past wanting to go somewhere.      [ to be continued, ]

[spacials]

* SCENES;

            “And so you’ll be off, then. What, an astronaut?” The words are a little cutting, somehow, thrown haphazard across the pristine countertop that places a neat three feet between the pair. Stella’s hands and gaze are both preoccupied with washing the dishes, a habit Gracie always found distinctly obnoxious – a precious attention to detail, cleaning directly after a meal. It felt like something unsubtle, a jab. “Don’t they got, like, decades of training behind them or something? Not like you can just pick it up –”

            “Didn’t say that, never said astronaut,” she counters, a funny pleading tonality edging her words, even as they’re mumbled. “You cut it down everytime, Stels.”

             “What?”

             “She’s got an apartment, she’s in college, she’s really doing something with her life. Mum pays it, anyway.” Gracie’s tone grows sharper and more confident with each word uttered, as she finally manages to pull her sister’s attention towards her. “It’s not that impressive.”

             “Neither’s sleeping in your old baby room with no plan, no direction, spouting fucking nonsense about being an astronaut ––”

             “I didn’t say astrona-”

             “–– and acting like you aren’t a full grown adult. You’re a child, Gracie, you’re always, you’ve always been –– a spoiled, fucking child.”

             There’s an instant distance that splits the two of them, a silence overtaking the room as they hold their eye contact in what might be perceived as a struggle for domination on the subject. An act to prove who’s right. But there’s a hint, so subtle and blurry, in both their vision: a begging of understanding. They’ve never had the words, been able to find the common ground so obviously underneath them. It’s always been like this. Vitriol and biting. 

              “You’ll never get it,” Gracie says, finally breaking the wall of quiet.

              “Nah, your mind’s such an enigma. It’s so beautiful and mysterious and weird and cool. No one can possibly ––”

              “Christ, Stella, it’s over, I’m leaving.”

              “Fine.”

              “Fine.” The silence, more awkward now, yet again gains ground as Gracie removes herself from the counter and begins to gather her bag and coat. Stella’s attention returns to the dishes, though now they’re so clean it hardly matters how much rougher she scrubs. She’s just wasting water, at this point, running it so hot against the back of her hand that it might scald her. 

               Gracie stops as she reaches the front door, holding it halfway open as she turns back to call out to Stella with a voice coated with annoyance. “For the record,” she yells. “I’m not a fucking astronaut.” With that, ensuring herself the final word, she slams the door shut with little regard for her sister’s neighbors, and putters off as she frustratingly throws her coat around her shoulders.

[groovies-a2]

 the  madman  in  the  woods  runs  bloodied  &  cold  —  dried  mud  plastered  over  tear  -  stained  cheeks.  (    this   rotting  ground  makes  a  fool  of  me,  i   pound  my  fists  against  the  earth,  hoping  for  quiet.   )

you  make  angels  out  of  demons in  the  night,   you  hear  one  calling  for  you  from  the  shed,    ‘      please,   make  it  stop,   it  hurts.    ‘    it   copycats   cacophonies  of  lovers    in    your  head   .  .   .    it  won’t  stop  —  unless  you  make  it.

  excalibur comes  in  the  shape  of  a  severed  wrist,   it  comes  in  the  noise  of  mechanical  revving  &  puffs  of  smoke  (…)  a  weapon  fit  for  a  king   —   divine  ruler  of  rot  &  decay .   a  cruel  irony  :  he  spreads  carnage  like  a  stain  as  much  as  he  tries  to  stop  it.

━━━★           𝐠̲𝐫̲𝐨̲𝐨̲𝐯̲𝐢̲𝐞̲𝐬̲      ⇾       INDEPENDENT  HEADCANON  &  FILM  BASED   PORTRAYAL   OF   𝙰𝚂𝙷𝙻𝙴𝚈 𝙹𝙾𝙰𝙽𝙽𝙰 𝚆𝙸𝙻𝙻𝙸𝙰𝙼𝚂   FROM   𝐒𝐀𝐌 𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐌𝐈'𝐒 𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐋 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐃   BY    XANDER.      dark   /   triggering.   personal  blogs  &  minors  dni.

[redkills-deactivated20240415]

𝙸𝙽𝚃.    𝙿𝙾𝙻𝙸𝙲𝙴 𝚂𝚃𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽.     𝙽𝙸𝙶𝙷𝚃.        JESSICA  CARTER   WALKS  INTO  THE  ROOM  AND  THE  PD  COMES  INTO  A  HALT  ,   COLLECTIVE  BREATH  STOLEN  BY  HER  GAIT  .  IF  THE  PAPERS  EVER  CREATED  AN  IMAGE  OF  THE  SOCIALITE  ,   IT  DIDN’T  MAKE  HER  JUSTICE  . 

BEHIND  HER  ,   A  CLEARLY  ARMED  AND  DANGEROUS  SECURITY  MAN  FOLLOWS  HER  STEAD  ,   SHOOTING  A  CLEAR  LOOK  OF  KEEP  OUT  TO  THE  BYSTANDERS  .   SHE  MOVES  GRACEFULLY  TOWARDS  THE DETECTIVE  ,  WHO  HAD  BEEN  EXPECTING  HER  AND  SEEMED  NONPLUSSED  AT  THE  SHOWING  .    “     SORRY  TO  KEEP  YOU  WAITING  ,  DETECTIVE  .    ” 

SHE’S  NOT  SORRY  ,  OF  COURSE  .   AND  SHE’S  GOT    THE  GRIN  TO  PROVE  IT.

ORIGINAL  ,     EXTRAVAGANT  ,   JEALOUS     &    MURDEROUS  .

[peteyrbaelish]

Doctor Who Series 10 - Scenery 

[olivia-crain]

Little Women (2019) dir. Greta Gerwig

[noirlac]

[spacials]

▌ ⁑╰      ∗✴⋆    tag.      drop.   ∎ ჻ hi! .

[spacials]

stella is gracie’s twin sister i’ve decided

[spacials]

marstons​       ,

“  its     macie ,     right ?     i’m     uh ,     sorry     about     your     sister     and     all .     don’t     worry     too     much ,     dutch     has     got     a     plan .     he’s     always     got     a     plan .     gotten     me     out     of     some   …   pretty    bad     situations     myself .     is     your     arm     healing     okay ?    took    a    pretty    nasty    couple’a    shots .  ”     @spacials

                  “ 𝒈𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒊𝒆,”                     she corrects him,  stressing the syllables as if it’ll sink in more concretely that way.            “ right. she’ll be fine. she could use a little excitement anyway. ”                    though steady and unwavering, the words hide a minor concern behind them, which grows as minutes pass.  but thinking pessimistically is against her nature,  and if her sister got killed over something so idiotic . . .           mom would skin her remaining daughter alive.  she presses a tentative palm to the area near the wounds at his mention and winces at the touch   ( perhaps not so much at the actual lingering pain, but at the fear of it )   but tries quickly to recover, sliding her hand back by her side.       “ s’alright. ”         brows furrow before she shoots her gaze directly at him, a wild curiosity in their glint.         “ you been shot before, mister? ”

[andhungry]

richard siken sentence starters.

quotes are all taken from various poems out of richard siken’s poetry book crush.  feel free to change pronouns/etc if needed.

❝  tell me how all this, and love too, will ruin us.  ❞

❝  tell me we’ll never get used to it.  ❞

❝  there are so many things i’m not allowed to tell you.  ❞

❝  i swallow your heart and it crawls right out of my mouth.  ❞

❝  i want it back now, baby. i want it back.  ❞

❝  i’m sorry. we know how it works. the world is no longer mysterious.  ❞

❝  that’s a nice touch.  ❞

❝  i like him and i want to be like him.  ❞

❝  i’m sure you remember, i was on the phone with you, sweetheart.  ❞

❝  history repeats itself.  ❞

❝  there are many names in history, but none of them are ours.  ❞

❝  you could drown in those eyes.  ❞

❝  but damn if there isn’t anything sexier than a slender boy with a handgun, a fast car, a bottle of pills.  ❞

❝  sorry about the blood in your mouth. i wish it was mine.  ❞

❝  i couldn’t get the boy to kill me, but i wore his jacket for the longest time.  ❞

❝  you wanted happiness, i can’t blame you for that, and maybe a mouth sounds idiotic when it blathers on about joy but tell me you love this, tell me you’re not miserable.  ❞

❝  there is no way to make this story interesting.  ❞

❝  i want to tell you this story without having to confess anything, without having to say that i ran out into the street to prove something.  ❞

❝  tell me we’re dead and i’ll love you even more.  ❞

❝  you will be alone always and then you will die.  ❞

❝  i’m sorry i came to your party and seduced you and left you bruised and ruined, you poor sad thing.  ❞

❝  who am i? i’m just a writer. i write things down.  ❞

❝  i take it back.  ❞

❝  here is the repeated image of the lover destroyed.  ❞

❝  you still get to be the hero.  ❞

❝  what more do you want?  ❞

❝  love, for you, is larger than the usual romantic love. it’s like a religion. it’s terrifying.  ❞

❝  no one will ever want to sleep with you.  ❞

❝  you know that recently we have had our difficulties and there are many things i want to ask you.  ❞

❝  you had not expected this.  ❞

❝  walk a mile in my shoes.  ❞

❝  a man takes his sadness down to the river and throws it in the river but then he’s still left with the river.  ❞

❝  you are weak and hollow and it doesn’t matter anymore.  ❞

❝  hush, my sweet. these tornadoes are for you.  ❞

❝  that sounds overly valorous.  ❞

❝  do you love yourself?  ❞

❝  i don’t have to answer that.  ❞

❝  you wanted more.  ❞

❝  i had a dream about you.  ❞

❝  there’s nowhere to go. there’s nowhere to go.  ❞

❝  in these dreams it’s always you: the boy in the sweatshirt, the boy on the bridge, the boy who always keeps me from jumping off the bridge.  ❞

❝  will you love me even more when i’m dead?  ❞

❝  you didn’t show up. i kept waiting.  ❞

❝  i swallowed crushed ice pretending it was glass and you’re dead.  ❞

❝  i don’t really blame you for being dead but you can’t have your sweater back.  ❞

❝  you can sleep now, you said. you can sleep now. you said that. i had a dream where you said that. thanks for saying that. you weren’t supposed to.  ❞

❝  hello darling, welcome home.  ❞

❝  please keep him safe.  ❞

❝  i just don’t want to die anymore.  ❞

❝  you want to die for love, you always have.  ❞

❝  you didn’t think you’d feel this way.  ❞

❝  you saved my life. i owe you, i owe you everything.  ❞

❝  please, just for one night, will you lie down next to me, we can leave our clothes on, we can stay all buttoned up.  ❞

❝  you’re all i ever wanted and worth dying for, too.  ❞

❝  drive into that tree, drive off the embankment. ______, make something happen.  ❞

❝  we are not dirty.  ❞

❝  you keep singing along to that song i hate. stop singing.  ❞

❝  here is the sink to wash away the blood.  ❞

❝  this is not harmless. you are not breathing.  ❞

❝  i will come back from the dead for you.  ❞

[spacials]

tempting to settle at least one arc in the would have been canon of the tardis coral being given to corin but we’ll see ..

[janasojka]

Fragments.

[spacials]

spacials or astralost... hm hm hm

[spacials]

ahstrocle​       ,

to  :   @astralost  .

in  truth  ,   amelia  had  long  ago  lost  track  of  her  whereabouts  .   matter  of   factly  ,   she  knew   it  was  someplace  new  ,   maybe  even  dangerous  because  with  every  passing   second    a  metallic  taste  grew  stronger  in  the  back  of  her  throat ,   a  ringing  in  her  ear  growing  louder  and  louder  but  she  couldn’t   avoid   moving  forward  ,   trying  her  best  to  remember  her  steps  .  if  i  lose  track  ,   i  might  never  find  my  way  home  .

like  many  dreams  before  this  it  started  with  crossing  the  uncrossable  pathway  and  walking  down  hallways  and  up  and  down stairs     —   —     unlike  alice  ,   her  travel  was  far  from  easy   —   —      something  deep  inside  her  remembered  where  they  went  ,  as  if  she  had  once  looked  upon  this  map  on  the  veins  of  a  browning  leaf  .   if  not  now  ,  then  she  might  not  ever  dare  to .   though  she  was  dreaming  (  right?  )  ,   a  sense  of  urgency  compelled  her  further  until  she  crossed  the  door  again  .   into  a  different  place  now  ,   a  common  street  somewhere  she’d  never  been ,  filled  with  people  who  looked  fairly  normal  .   not  one  of  them  spared  her  a  second  glance  ,   despite  her  coat  sticking  out  like  a  sore  thumb  against  the  golden,  deeply  orange  sun  .   the  only  star  left  in  the  sky  where  she  came  from  ,   but  not  here  .     how  odd   .

the  roaring  of  waves  crashing  into  sand  pulled  her  with  the  tides  ,   a  strong  smell  of  ocean water  mixing  with  the  detestable  iron  crawling  up  her  throat  as  she  padded  her  way  through  the  street  ,   huddled  inside  her  big  blue  coat  that  made  her  look  smaller  than  her  age  .   this  adventure  was  a  decay  she  hadn’t  ever  known   except  she  had  and  couldn’t  quite  remember   (  yet   )  .

she  wasn’t  going  to  ask  any  adult  for  help  .  no ,  she  was  amelia  jessica  pond ,  she  could  go  anywhere  on  her  own  .  but  another  child …     well  ,   even  alice  made  friends  in  wonderland  .  she  made  her  way  towards  the  shore  where  deeply  beige  and  brown  sand  mixed  with  darker  pebbles  made  homes  for  crabs  and  for  another  little  girl  whom,  like  her,   seemed  to  be  alone ,  playing  at  the  edge  of  the  waves  .   “   hi.    ”   she  offered  ,  sheepish  and  terribly  scottish  .   “  i’m  amy  .   d’you  wanna  play?    ”

          𝑡𝘩𝑒𝑟𝑒  𝑖𝑠  𝑎  𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑙𝑒𝑛𝑒𝑠𝑠  𝑖𝑛  𝑡𝘩𝑒  𝑙𝑜𝑢𝑑𝑛𝑒𝑠𝑠  𝑜𝑓  𝑎𝑛  𝑜𝑐𝑒𝑎𝑛;   this one in particular with its cool,  at times chilling,  breeze that slips past your skin like the dull side of a knife  ––  a cool spoon against the hairs of your arm.  gracie, amidst this cold, sits alone as she’s oft to do, tracing shapes in the sand until it looks like maps, or constellations. a brilliant display of something unearthly, something she was sure she’d never seen before. it was, to her, unworth doing had anyone else seen it before.

at the sound of a stranger’s voice, she turns, though at the behest of her mother and father both, does well to remember her cautious hesitation. nonetheless, she is more reckless than her sister has ever been, and a sort of spite to maintain the reputation has always led her to breaking stranger danger codes in the past. as gaze meets the blue coat, and finds its way up to the eyes of the woman it belongs to, curiosity cocks gracie’s head to one side. a stranger, indeed. but she liked her eyes. there was something about them that reminded her of her mother, in a way  ––  the kind that held a secret,  the kind that broke like waves against jagged rocks,  the strong kind,  with wonder.

“ well,   ‘m not playing.   ‘m not a little kid. ”              PLANNING,  RATHER :      DISCOVERING.   considering herself playful and silly like the other girls of her age feels such wicked disservice to the very real worlds she seeks to create, in sand or otherwise. she knits her brows together and straightens her posture where she sits, as if to make herself appear older, or stronger – a little bit of both.  as intimidating, of course, as a ten year old could stand to appear.  she’s quick to lose the bravado as attention moves to the shapes scrawled beneath her.  rapid movement pulls her palm carefully across them, fading them into obscurity within a matter of moments.  as she does, she speaks again, unwilling to allow terrible lengths of silence.        “ ‘m  gracie. ” 

[spacials]

@createself​   asked:    “  feels kinda like my soul is burnt.  ”

              𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒  𝑖𝑠  𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑡𝘩𝑖𝑛𝑔  𝑔𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑖𝑒  𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤𝑠  𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑙𝑦;     that of a mother whose selfhood is breaking. she’s seen it and watched the cracks in her gaze, and wanted so badly to understand the nature of them.    whatever she’d seen before . . .   whatever existed in her head,      that she carried with her day in and day out. time and time and time again    ( and time and time and time more,    the word is such a heavy thing on rose’s lips, it can seem.  or perhaps she’s imagining it, the way the ‘t’ pops as it does, and the ‘m’ feels like a sigh. )        “ you’re so dramatic, ”       she says, letting the words linger as serious for just a few minor beats before breaking the line of her lips to a smile.  it isn’t long, however, before the jovial smirk falters, and she takes the weight of the sentiment back into mind. she moves a hand, palm upright, to the space between where herself and her mother sit on sandy ground, outstretched in a gesture of comfort.

[spacials]

   *    CHARIOTEER   :                    ENDLESSLY  SEEKING  SOMETHING  BETTER . . .        private  dw  oc  by  róisín.