Stuff and stuff:
- Further info about the gifts: yes, some will be longer than others. No, that doesn't mean I love you more or less, lol ♥. I just write whatever comes to me, and sometimes that's a lot and sometimes it's not. That's all there is to it. Also, as I said posting should start just after christmas, but it may extend out over january depending on how fast I write. Some of these suckers look to be fairly lengthy, judging by their outlines.
- I've written a fair amount of fic over the past year. Sometimes I simply lost inspiration, sometimes canon moved past me before I could finish. Whatever the reason, I'm planning on posting some of the snippets I abandoned over the year. All will be unbetaed and unfinished, jsyk. It's more for my own sake than to get them read, or anything, because I'm interested in the ways my writing has or hasn't changed over the year. That said, these entries will be public, in case there's something in there you lot are interested.
So, let's start that off with this tidbit:
Working title: the one where they go to paris
Pairings: River/Eleven, Amy/Rory.
Rating: G (is that a rating? I AM SO BAD AT THIS.)
Disclaimer: Not mine, etc. You know, I think I've forgotten to do this for my last few fics. Whoops!
Word count: ~700
Summary: ummm. Hijinks? Okay but seriously: Set after The Wedding of River Song. Amy and Rory haven't seen the Doctor since he married their daughter, which is something Amy is still trying not to think about too hard. The married daughter part, not the not-seeing-him part.
Life is normal now.
That’s not to say it’s boring, not at all. She’s married to the Last Centurion, who is, more importantly, one of her best and weirdest friends (although not the weirdest); her daughter, the one who looks older than she does, breaks out of jail every night for wine and stargazing in her back yard. Finally, and most importantly, she’s Amy Pond, and life is never boring for Amy Pond. Not when there’s so much to see and do and experience, even without a TARDIS.
Maybe normal isn’t the best word, actually, considering who they are and where they’ve been. But by her standards, it’s pretty mundane. Sweet and fun, sure, but there’s no cracks in her walls and no monsters in the dead of night. It’s actually kind of nice.
Still, by anyone else’s standards she’s sure they must look like the biggest freaks in Britain. Especially when her daughter (who, again, looks older than her and is married to her imaginary best friend) comes crashing into the kitchen, literally out of nowhere, wearing a police uniform and shouting gleefully about the Doctor just as she and Rory finish up the dishes. Now that’s a flashback and a half. Amy wonders briefly if she still fits into her old costume.
“Alright, River, slow down,” she says, putting down her drying rag. Rory pulls his arms out of the sudsy water, and my but they are nice arms, and says, “Wait, the Doctor?”
It’s been two weeks since River explained the Doctor’s scheme. Two weeks. Two weeks and no word, save the little stories River brings to them, every night on the button at three in the morning. Amy doesn’t even try to understand how River’s timeline is working - something about spending her days travelling backwards and popping in with the young Doctor, her evenings travelling forward and dancing with the future/present/oh god why is time so confusing Doctor, and her three a.m.’s chattering their ears off and winking with promises of “spoilers”. Honestly, it makes her head ache fit to burst, so she ignores it. Two weeks without the Doctor? Fine. Just don’t bother explaining to her why it’s been two weeks, or she’ll drown you out with a loud, off-key rendition of “Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds.”
Right. Enough of that. She doesn’t need the headaches or the heartaches that come of thinking of the Doctor. Focus, Pond, she tells herself. River’s talking, waving her hands excitedly. “Wait, okay, go back a bit,” Amy interrupts. “The Doctor’s in Paris and who what now?”
River smiles at her fondly. “The Doctor’s in Paris, Amy. Right now, he’s in Paris. Something about the Eiffel Tower and a time distortion and Napoleon, it’s all a little convoluted, but, at this very moment, he’s in Paris.”
“Alright, great,” Amy says, crossing her arms. “The Doctor’s in Paris. Fantastic. We don’t have a TARDIS.”
“I suppose we could catch a plane,” Rory says, and he’s got that gleam in his eye that means he’s already considering costs and travel routes and the pros and cons of threatening a pilot into flying them there tonight, with her still in her bathrobe and him still all sudsy. She loves him so much she could just die, but he’s right foolish sometimes.
“Won’t work, he’ll be gone by the time we get there,” she replies, giving him a look. He grins dopily, like, yeah, I’m a fool, but you’re incredible. She smiles, and says, “Time distortion. Not a big deal, he’ll have it fixed in the blink of an eye.”
When she turns to look at River, she catches her giving them the same look Amy herself just gave Rory. Raising her eyebrows, Amy waits for an explanation. River laughs and says, “I don’t need a TARDIS, Amy. Every night I travel from a prison cell in space to the man I love, and from there to the family I never had, and those three things are rarely in the same galaxy, never mind country.”
Amy grins, reaches out and grabs Rory’s hand, suds and all. She says, with forced nonchalance, “Yeah, yeah, whatever. You can travel through time and space, aren’t you cool. Enough bragging! Let’s go find our boy.”
“One Doctor, coming up,” River says, and she leads Amy and Rory out into the night.
(and then stuff happened idk)