We will sing to youDoctor. The universe will sing you to your sleep

My God, have you seen yourselves? You all think you’re so clever, don’t you?

fic: A Praise Chorus, 1/7. (Ten/Rose, high school AU) 

allrightfine:

"She’s not in that basement of yours, hiding between your baseball cards and that stack of Playboys that went missing from my garage."

(the late ’90s/early ’00s American high school AU too many of us lived to actually need.)

AO3 | Teaspoon

3,901 words, this section; adult-ish, but for later chapters (they’re 18). 

a/n: I’ve been batting this idea around for a while, because high school AUs are a wellspring, but I wanted to place it vaguely-specifically in the late ’90s/early ’00s in America, and stoprobbers​ happened to encourage me at just the right time. In her defense, she did tell me to finish Stepford first. (This one, at least, is only a few thousand words from done, no Stepford antics here, I swear it.)

Title from Jimmy Eat World’s song of the same name.

It’s an abuse of power is what it is.

There’s an implicit contract, a sort of sacred bond, between a man and his video store clerk.

You don’t look at rental history, if you do, you don’t judge, and if you do look and you do judge, you sure as hell don’t bring it up.

But that’s exactly what Wilf’s done, right here, in the middle of a sunny Saturday afternoon, he’s gone and broken that bond and upset the balance of the entire universe. Again.

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Love’s the funeral of hearts
And an ode for cruelty
When angels cry blood
On flowers of evil in bloom