Valentine's Day Drabbleathon!
Since I'm in a slushy mood and it's officially V-Day by my clock, I hereby announce the
Sarah Jane Valentine's Day Drabbleathon!
Post a drabble or ficlet in the comments. It must involve Sarah and it must involve Valentine's Day. It can be fluff, smut, angst or something else entirely, with any pairing you like.
As for example:
Will he miss me ( Read more... )
Sarah Jane Valentine's Day Drabbleathon!
Post a drabble or ficlet in the comments. It must involve Sarah and it must involve Valentine's Day. It can be fluff, smut, angst or something else entirely, with any pairing you like.
As for example:
Will he miss me ( Read more... )
Every year, like clockwork, on every Valentine’s Day, there’s a delivery of something…. odd. It’s always different from anything else she’s ever seen in all her travels. It’s been metal, it’s been circuits and high tech gleaming chrome, it’s been roughly hewn, it’s been tenderly grown.
Sometimes it’s small enough to fit inside an A4 envelope.
Sometimes it’s large enough to take two postmen to carry it from the van, swearing loudly and trying to work out how it got into the system.
Sometimes it’s light enough to watch it gently float downwards in the dancing sunlight that seems to come with each present.
Sometimes it’s so heavy, she can’t figure out how the packaging even got it this far.
And once…. just once…. it was a glorious bubbling burst of light and colour and taste and sounds that surrounded her in a wonderful, delightful moment of pure joy that seemed to last both for ever and not long enough.
She knows who they’re from. And she knows exactly what they mean, even if she knows he’ll never actually say it to her (or anyone else’s) face.
“Thank you, Doctor,” she whispers.
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