(Untitled)
Originated from catyuy and paying it forward from there:
To the first five people who comment to this post, I will gift you with something of my own crafting. It may be an icon, a manip, a drawing, a ficlet, or something completely random. You may love it or you may think it sucks, but regardless, it will be made with love for you from me. ;) Feel free ( Read more... )
To the first five people who comment to this post, I will gift you with something of my own crafting. It may be an icon, a manip, a drawing, a ficlet, or something completely random. You may love it or you may think it sucks, but regardless, it will be made with love for you from me. ;) Feel free ( Read more... )
Comments 18
(Hey, it's a comment. Lol.)
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Squishy
Calab was still on a high after the massacre of all those potentials. He could have also got one of the main Slayer's core group, but oh well. There would always be next time. From what his boss could gather the others had kicked the Slayer out of her own home. Nobody knew where she was now.
He glanced down at his hand. He still had the guy's eyeball. He gave the passing thoughts about what how the guy was managing without it and what to do with the eyeball.
After a moment's consideration, he popped it into his mouth.
"Hmm, a bit too squishy." He noted before moving on to find the First.
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But he'd had to do it. He'd had to know just one time what it felt like.
As badly as he was hurting now, he didn't regret it. Not one little itty bit. He doubted his partner did either.
"Honestly, Harkness," Owen Harper grumbled. "Trust you to manage to get frostbite on your penis in the middle of summer."
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No true thought; absent of sight, sound, touch, taste, smell. Not even contact with the TARDIS as that was another man's domain now. There was no sense of great weight or weightlessness. Just senseless floating in a darkness destined to never end. Sleeping, just as the Ood had assured he would be.
The first break in this blanket of slumber was a brief flash of a golden light, startling him out of his mindless state of thought. It was instantly dismissed as an abberation, a trick of a formerly overactive mind that used to crave all forms of stimuli. At worst, it was perhaps his next self regenerating and all would soon return to senseless sleep.
He became gradually aware of a heaviness about him. It was as though something had reached out and chose to anchor him in a specific place in the darkness. Sound came next as dim noises made themselves known. Voices, his sluggish mind supplied, but he could not make out words, just sounds his mind could not yet comprehend. An interminable ( ... )
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it's wonderful..a dream that comes true...but it's also a little sad...
and I want to know how he can be there...and he's still him?
oh I love it! thank you!! you're amazing!!
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Yeah, it is a bit bittersweet. He's alive and with Rose but we don't know how he got there, or what happened to Ten II.
I may do a sequel/prequel/midquel or somesuch at a future point, but yes, it's still him. :-)
And you're welcome. :-)
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*sighs* If only. I'm glad you liked the story, thanks for reading.
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Even with the pain of saying good - bye to Rose still fresh in his hearts, he could still take quiet joy in seeing somebody look out his TARDIS and see sights far beyond their own perviously narrowed perspectives for the first time.
That is not the only thing that amazes him.
He looks at the redhead next to him; this loudmouthed shrill bride, who suddenly appeared in his TARDIS only hours earlier and intruded upon his grief. He sees her, staring at the birth of the Earth with dawning wonder her eyes. In that moment, he no longer sees the bride with the sharp tongue and a hard slap, but the vulnerable woman within her.
He wonders how else this woman and this day will surprise him.
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