It's in his chest, and settles there in pools like rain after a storm.
It's there when they are hand-in-hand, and she brushes her thumb against his, innocently, absent-mindedly, and every time she smiles.
It hurts to be near her. It hurts much more to be apart.
She's sitting in the grass, staring up at the Venusian moon, her outline cast in the blue light of dusk. The Tardis' door swings shut with a click, catching her attention, and when her eyes brighten when she sees him his hearts forget how to beat. He strides over and sits down beside her, feels the jolt as their hands brush momentarily.
She rests her head against his shoulder, breathing in the scent of leather and feeling his deep voice vibrate through him as he describes to her all the stars and worlds they can see from there.
It's in her chest, and flutters like moth's wings drawn to a flame.
Re: Vienna Waits, pgmylittlepwnyApril 24 2009, 03:44:48 UTC
FIRST AND FOREMOST
I've been throwing this prompt around for two billion years, and no one has had the smarts to pick it up, bb. Until you. And I totes wouldn't have it any other way.
SECOND AND NEXTMOST
His hand was offered and accepted, just like always, as they stepped onto the dance floor.
Her hand was offered and accepted, as always, as she stepped backwards into her room followed by the Doctor. And their dance was continued, with less silk and more skin, beyond the early morning.
HELLO PARALLELS. NICE TO SEE YOU THIS EVENING. I love things like this ridiculous amounts; the simple intimacy of their relationship, how it's all at once comfortable and simmering with all the things they never say and the HEAT and LOVE that boil between them is ASTOUNDING and it's all so fucking sweet and aching and beautiful that I could scream and do, sometimes, those special fangirl screams that could be mistaken for pain but never are.
Until the sun threatened to rise and her bare shoulders began to tease and taunt, muscles sliding beneath
( ... )
It’s that time of night when there’s a lull in the world, when the lights are dazzling like tiny fireflies dancing their own waltz through the skies and the people are smuggled away from the silent, magic of the world. It almost looks like artificial daytime, in a world where there is only air and dust and the reverent beauty of things left behind. She can’t keep her eyes glued on one spot, they dip and they turn and they spin like she’s seeing all the wonders of the entire universe in this one tiny place.
She vaguely remembers him ping-ponging words and people and places at her when their destination was decided. Homer (NOT Simpson!), Sophocles, Euripides, Aristophanes, Socrates, Plato and not forgetting Aristotle. But right now, in this very sliver of time, all she can see is that bare, boneless tree standing in the distance. Almost achingly lonely, bent with the weight of time on its back, with its wooden arms reaching out to touch something living. In her mind she can see it flourishing with the breath of youth and spring, the
( ... )
Comments 129
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NUDE BEACH!
PS: Is there any way to get than animated thing in 150x90 size... me not has a ginormous sidebar.
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1: to suffer a usually dull persistent pain
2: to experience a painful eagerness or yearning
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It's there when they are hand-in-hand, and she brushes her thumb against his, innocently, absent-mindedly, and every time she smiles.
It hurts to be near her. It hurts much more to be apart.
She's sitting in the grass, staring up at the Venusian moon, her outline cast in the blue light of dusk. The Tardis' door swings shut with a click, catching her attention, and when her eyes brighten when she sees him his hearts forget how to beat. He strides over and sits down beside her, feels the jolt as their hands brush momentarily.
She rests her head against his shoulder, breathing in the scent of leather and feeling his deep voice vibrate through him as he describes to her all the stars and worlds they can see from there.
It's in her chest, and flutters like moth's wings drawn to a flame.
Reply
It hurts to be near her. It hurts much more to be apart.
I loove that line, the whole thing is gorgeous though. :D
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( ... )
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I've been throwing this prompt around for two billion years, and no one has had the smarts to pick it up, bb.
Until you.
And I totes wouldn't have it any other way.
SECOND AND NEXTMOST
His hand was offered and accepted, just like always, as they stepped onto the dance floor.
Her hand was offered and accepted, as always, as she stepped backwards into her room followed by the Doctor. And their dance was continued, with less silk and more skin, beyond the early morning.
HELLO PARALLELS. NICE TO SEE YOU THIS EVENING.
I love things like this ridiculous amounts; the simple intimacy of their relationship, how it's all at once comfortable and simmering with all the things they never say and the HEAT and LOVE that boil between them is ASTOUNDING and it's all so fucking sweet and aching and beautiful that I could scream and do, sometimes, those special fangirl screams that could be mistaken for pain but never are.
Until the sun threatened to rise and her bare shoulders began to tease and taunt, muscles sliding beneath ( ... )
Reply
( ... )
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She vaguely remembers him ping-ponging words and people and places at her when their destination was decided. Homer (NOT Simpson!), Sophocles, Euripides, Aristophanes, Socrates, Plato and not forgetting Aristotle. But right now, in this very sliver of time, all she can see is that bare, boneless tree standing in the distance. Almost achingly lonely, bent with the weight of time on its back, with its wooden arms reaching out to touch something living. In her mind she can see it flourishing with the breath of youth and spring, the ( ... )
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UM. Yeah.
No words.
YOU WRITING NINE/ROSE FIC. USING PATRICK WATSON SONGS AS INSPIRATION.
And Mel's glorious prompt.
This is totally a success, now. ;)
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I KNOW! I WROTE NINE/ROSE! :O
Oh whatever, you don't need me to make anything you do a success okay. ♥ ♥
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