Cos there is nothing else happening, a couple of bits of old fic again, this time Donna related. Small and boring, but have a read if you would like....
First is prior to her return but after RB -
####################
Martian Boy.
He was a right skinny bastard. He put that jacket round my shoulders and it felt like I'd split the seams just by looking at it. It wasn't very warm, though. He needs a bit more meat on his bones. Not that I felt cold up there. I don't feel the cold. But no one had ever put a jacket round me before.
Bit poncey, if you ask me.
And boy, could he talk! On and on. I couldn't get a word in edgeways! I mean, I'm shy, so I didn't say much…but it was a miracle he heard a word I said he was so busy giving it large.
On and on and on.
Cheeky sod as well. Bloody Martian boy. Didn't think Martians would be so mouthy. Not in English, anyways.
He had very brown eyes. And so big. Huge...
Comes of being a bloody Martian, I suppose. They are all bug eyed, ain't they? Like ET. Except he wasn't like ET. Well, he was as irritating as ET, but he didn't look like ET. He was...taller. Thinner. A lot thinner. Good puff of wind would have had him over. He should try eating now and again on Mars. I know it's Mars and all that, but... Maybe he should have wolfed down a couple of Mars bars. Yeah, he would have liked them.
But...he showed me the beginning of time. I mean, the very, very beginning. What other bloke could do that for you? It's usually too much trouble for them to show up on time for a date, cos they got stuck in the pub talking to their mates – but show you the very beginning of the world? Yeah, like that's going to happen. They might think they can make the Earth move for you, but...
Well, no one could ever match that, could they?
Ever.
No one will ever, ever match that.
Oh...bugger.
Who'd have thought I'd miss Martian boy?
#####################
And now onto poor Donna after she'd left again...
##########################
Niggle.
She couldn't wait for this weekend... X factor was starting again. Lovely. That was her Saturday nights sorted for a few weeks... X factor, feet up in front of the telly, Pringles in one hand and a nice Bacardi Breezer in the other... Then up and get ready for a night out with the girls down Blazers, a kebab on the way home and a lie in on Sunday, listening to Mum moan about not helping around the house and not doing anything with her life. What did she think temping was? Easy? ‘Cos it bloody wasn't. She needed her Saturday nights with the girls. Plus Big Brother had been a right letdown this year, and X Factor was going to be her only other bright spot, watching all those losers trying to make something of their lives. Half of them looked like they came from outer space...
Oh, bugger. There it was again.
The niggle.
The feeling, somewhere in the back of her head, of something just out of reach she couldn't touch.
She'd started to get it at the oddest times. When she saw that bloody great spider run across the carpet yesterday. When she watched that Poirot bloke on telly. When she heard Star Trekkin' at Shaz's party the other weekend. Once it happened when she'd seen a blue front door she'd passed, and another time, bizarrely when she'd seen that skinny bloke from Pulp... God knows why, ‘cos she certainly didn't fancy him, that was for sure, all skin and bones. And he was a speccy four-eyes as well, she’d never gone for blokes in specs.
It was sometimes worse when she went to visit Granddad on his hill, taking him his flask and a nice sausage sarnie. She'd look through his telescope at the blackness and although she saw nothing, she'd keep looking. The niggle kept her looking, like she was expecting something. She was a right silly cow, she knew. Just blackness up there, no matter what the papers said, they just talked a flipping load of rubbish. But that niggle, that bloody niggle... She'd turned to Granddad the other night, pulling his leg about wasting his time on his bloody hill, silly old sod, 'cos there was nothing up there. And he was crying. He'd tried to hide it, but she knew he was. She'd asked him why, but he'd said that the 'wind was making my eyes water sweetheart and you're right, I am a silly sod. Nothing up there. Not anymore.' Then he'd got up and told her he wanted to dance to one of his old songs he had going on his little portable stereo, so she'd got up and boogied with him. He'd soon perked up, bless him.
Soon be home, she thought as the clocked ticked round to 5pm... She flicked through the holiday brochure that Jane had left - she'd been bragging about her honeymoon in Italy. She couldn't see why anyone would want to marry that mouthy cow, she thought she was it, all...
The niggle. And there it was again, making her stop and stare at the picture. A picture of Pompeii, people walking in the ruins, the volcano in the background. Who would want to go to a place where so many people had died, had suffered? The blackness. The choking ash, the screaming. The poor children... Why did they go to the beach, why go to the beach, instead of running right to the hills?
She shook her head.
Stupid Jane was such a show-off; her boyfriend must be a right loser, taking her there for a honeymoon. She looked at the clock - 5pm. Lovely. Home time, in the car and a stop off on the way to pick up the weekend supplies - Breezers and Pringles.
She threw the brochure onto the desk, all thoughts of Italy gone. It had been a hell of a week, they’d had her non-stop typing. There were more important things for her to think about than stupid Jane's honeymoon and her boring job... Like sour cream and chive or barbeque beef - what flavour Pringles was she going to have this week?
God, she was so looking forward to this weekend. It was going to be brilliant.
Sunday, 25 October 2009
Tuesday, 20 October 2009
And yet again, DW makes me cry...
And not just snffles, great big tears.
It's not a popular view, but I do love 'Silence in the Library', 'Forest of the Dead' and River Song. I know she is not liked by many for various reasons, but I like her so that's all that counts. Whatever, the end always ALWAYS makes me sniff, but watching tonight... oh dear. Big sobby wet tears. I know, silly stupid and rubbish, but can't help it. Lord knows what will happen at Christmas when Ten hangs up his lovely long coat and turns into Eleven, but I forsee many hankies and much wailing. Unless Rusty mucks up and P's me off with a Mary-Sue overload and then I may have to hate him.
Anyway, small bit written when tonights ep was first on...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Rain
He tells her his name and the heavens open, rain falling down onto the parched orange earth beneath their feet as the twin suns shine brightly on the horizon. A confusion of colours arch across the sky and she repeats his name back to him, watching the water skim over his skin and drip from his eyelashes, his eyes desperate and ancient, wide and childlike. Such an impossible man, full of such contradictions, a wild, overblown festival with a silent, secret heart.
He smiles grimly at her. His name, not spoken for so very long, sounds wrong, so wrong when he says it, when he tells her it. But then she repeats it back to him, then he hears her voice and it's so very right it hurts. His smile broadens and he looks up into the rain, closing his eyes and feeling the warm water on his cold skin, feels it soaking through his shirt and suit and bones of him. It's been literally ages since he felt warm, felt this down to the very cells of his body.
She is so happy, standing with this strange, infuriating man, as she gets soaked with alien rain on an ancient, impossible planet. She looks at him and wonders for a moment; it looks like tears on his face, the rain. Like he's crying.
He looks back at her smiling at him.
He thinks of something he was once told.
'Your Song will soon end.'
He thinks about a tattered blue book full of memories.
He thinks about The Library.
It's not a popular view, but I do love 'Silence in the Library', 'Forest of the Dead' and River Song. I know she is not liked by many for various reasons, but I like her so that's all that counts. Whatever, the end always ALWAYS makes me sniff, but watching tonight... oh dear. Big sobby wet tears. I know, silly stupid and rubbish, but can't help it. Lord knows what will happen at Christmas when Ten hangs up his lovely long coat and turns into Eleven, but I forsee many hankies and much wailing. Unless Rusty mucks up and P's me off with a Mary-Sue overload and then I may have to hate him.
Anyway, small bit written when tonights ep was first on...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Rain
He tells her his name and the heavens open, rain falling down onto the parched orange earth beneath their feet as the twin suns shine brightly on the horizon. A confusion of colours arch across the sky and she repeats his name back to him, watching the water skim over his skin and drip from his eyelashes, his eyes desperate and ancient, wide and childlike. Such an impossible man, full of such contradictions, a wild, overblown festival with a silent, secret heart.
He smiles grimly at her. His name, not spoken for so very long, sounds wrong, so wrong when he says it, when he tells her it. But then she repeats it back to him, then he hears her voice and it's so very right it hurts. His smile broadens and he looks up into the rain, closing his eyes and feeling the warm water on his cold skin, feels it soaking through his shirt and suit and bones of him. It's been literally ages since he felt warm, felt this down to the very cells of his body.
She is so happy, standing with this strange, infuriating man, as she gets soaked with alien rain on an ancient, impossible planet. She looks at him and wonders for a moment; it looks like tears on his face, the rain. Like he's crying.
He looks back at her smiling at him.
He thinks of something he was once told.
'Your Song will soon end.'
He thinks about a tattered blue book full of memories.
He thinks about The Library.
Saturday, 10 October 2009
As I don't seem to be able to post 'normal' things...
That being stuff about my life, here is some more of my bad, un-beta'd fic. I know, I should be blogging about my days and views I have on the news, music, the world in general, but I never really seem to be able to do that. My life generally is get up, go to work, hate my life, come home, eat dinner, hate my life, go to bed. Not very exciting reading. Therefore, you're just getting fic again. If anything changes or my mood lifts, I'll see what I can do opinions wise.
Anyways, fic. Two short bits, both a bit saucy so I suppose I should warn you. Although I'm sure you are all old enough. These were written for a LJ challenge in about five minutes flat for each of them, so please forgive any mistakes that I've not picked up and general rushy-type crappiness. So - away we go...
Carbon
It wasn't him, not really.
He looked the same, he sounded the same. Well, nearly the same. This him was cheekier. Sexier. More overt.
When he'd found her at UNIT she'd thought it was him, the 'original' him, at first glance. But then she'd noticed the slight differences in the stance, the walk... He'd then greeted her with a huge hug as normal, but had let his hand linger a little too long on her hip. She was convinced she was dealing with a sort of shape shifter until he'd explained he'd come back through some crack in time somewhere, that it had gone sour over there and he'd come back to the only other place he'd known before he'd been, in his words, 'dumped'.
She'd done some physical checks just to make sure and then, because she couldn't think of what else to do, she'd taken him home.
And somehow, they'd ended up here.
He was so free, everything wild and new and fascinating to him, the same and yet nothing like him. He'd held her hand during dinner, brushed her cheek, tucked her hair behind her ear during dessert and kissed her over coffee. She'd told herself it wasn't him, it was a carbon copy, not the original. A carbon copy with blurred edges, not quite the same, some rough and incomplete spots here and there, not the same... But then, then he'd traced down her neck with his mouth, all small kisses, flickering tongue and nipping teeth, his fingers joining in. Popping buttons open on her blouse, reaching in, stroking and teasing lace covered flesh and she didn't care, just didn't care. Because. Because she didn't. She wanted to have him, because he was so very good at this. Because she could.
He slid into her slowly, the weight of his body pinning her to the sofa and she arched upwards to meet him, wondering if this is what it would have been like with him. Would the rhythm have been the same, the feel of him inside her. Would he have felt like that, buried deeply in her? Would he have teased her nipples with his mouth, that never still, rarely silent mouth? And would his fingers have slid down and touched her like that as he'd picked up the pace, pushing faster, harder? She scraped her nails down his back as she climaxed and just as she came back to herself, she wondered if he would groan when he came like that, if he ever had come like that, sticky and hot inside of her.
She felt his breath against her neck as he shifted off her and she was sure she could feel the edges of him blur a little more, the copy degrading slightly. She moved away from him and reached for her clothes.
'I'm not him, you know. I have his memories, but I'm not him. I'm me.' He reached and stroked her back. 'I'm different.' He kissed her between the shoulder blades.
'I'm different. I'll be different. It'll be different.'
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Punchline
'Now, this part, Martha... This part is very interesting.'
The Doctor pointed to a diagram in a huge, ancient book and continued. 'See. All these extra bits and bobs... How do they all fit in?'
Martha peered at the book. She had no idea.
'Most organs are smaller. I have two hearts, but they are smaller. And more efficient. Naturally. I'm really a bit of a medical marvel, even if I am getting on a bit. Fit as a fiddle, me.' He grinned widely at her. 'Anyway, the organs are smaller but work at a higher level - huge lung capacity but I have a respiratory bypass system - can go without air for a while. Not for long, but it's certainly handy...'
He went to turn the page, but Martha stopped him.
'Is everything smaller?'
'Well, as I said, most are.'
'Just internal organs? What about external?'
The Doctor looked at her in something akin to shocked surprise. 'Martha Jones, I am surprised at you!' he blustered 'I... I...' He shook his head. 'I am lost for words, really. And not very often that happens, to be honest, as you well know.'
'I'm just interested. Medical curiosity. What if something happens to you, how do I know if you look 'normal' or not?' Martha said as seriously as she could. She wasn't being very successful.
'I am perfectly normal, I'll have you know. And I'm glad you find it so funny.' He slammed the book shut. Martha began to protest and say she was sorry when he stopped her.
'As you are so interested, Doctor Jones let's have a look at a live specimen, shall we?' He looked around, as if searching for something, stopped and then ambled up to Martha, hands in pockets. 'Oh. That would be me, then.' He unbuttoned his jacket and shirt, shrugging them off and then pulling at his tee shirt, all still within centimeters of Martha.
'Doctor, what are you doing?' She backed away slightly, until she hit the end of one of the tables in the TARDIS library.
The Doctor was now unzipping his trousers as he moved forward again, this time pressing himself against her as he stepped from his clothes, completely naked.
'Enough studying of books, doctor Jones; Time for a practical... Examination.' He slid a hand around her waist and pulled her to him, kissing her soundly. 'It's exam time. Let's see if you and I pass...'
He soon had her as naked as he was and sitting on the library table as he kissed down her body, making, he said, 'a through examination of her for his records.' The fact that his examination included liberal use of his tongue in various areas did not upset Martha one bit and she gave him a 'A-', only deducting points for not paying equal attention to her left breast as he had to her right.
He now stood between her open thighs as she kissed down his chest, charting the muscles of his back with her fingers. She was orally examining his nipples when she reached down to stroke him and stopped as she took him in her hand.
'Ahh.'
'Martha?'
She bit her lip, trying not to laugh. So it was external organs as well. Oh dear. What was she going to say to him? 'Nothing...'
'What is it about that tone of voice and that face that makes me not believe you?' He kissed her forehead.
'No really. Nothing. It really is...' She stroked him 'Nothing.' Oh, God. This was not going well, she thought.
'Good.' He smiled at her, a smug smile that seemed quite out of place in the circumstances. 'Because, my dear and lovely Martha Jones, I have a surprise for you.'
He suddenly pulled her to the edge of the table, pushing her thighs open wider and guided himself into her, thrusting hard.
Martha's eyes widened and she gasped. He was filling her completely, feeling huge and hard inside her, hitting just the right spot that made her shiver. He withdrew from her all the way and thrust again, making Martha groan with pleasure and he filled her again. She grasped his shoulders and looked at him. The Doctor grinned at her one of his hugest, most self-satisfied grins.
'So, Martha Jones, what have we learned today?' He thrust back into her. 'That Time Lords have some smaller, but superior functioning, organs.' Thrust. 'And of course, being a Time Lord I have one constant advantage.' He thrust once more and bent to nibble Martha's earlobe.
'What's that?' Martha squeaked breathlessly.
He moved his lips from her earlobe to whisper low to her.
'It's bigger on the inside.'
Anyways, fic. Two short bits, both a bit saucy so I suppose I should warn you. Although I'm sure you are all old enough. These were written for a LJ challenge in about five minutes flat for each of them, so please forgive any mistakes that I've not picked up and general rushy-type crappiness. So - away we go...
Carbon
It wasn't him, not really.
He looked the same, he sounded the same. Well, nearly the same. This him was cheekier. Sexier. More overt.
When he'd found her at UNIT she'd thought it was him, the 'original' him, at first glance. But then she'd noticed the slight differences in the stance, the walk... He'd then greeted her with a huge hug as normal, but had let his hand linger a little too long on her hip. She was convinced she was dealing with a sort of shape shifter until he'd explained he'd come back through some crack in time somewhere, that it had gone sour over there and he'd come back to the only other place he'd known before he'd been, in his words, 'dumped'.
She'd done some physical checks just to make sure and then, because she couldn't think of what else to do, she'd taken him home.
And somehow, they'd ended up here.
He was so free, everything wild and new and fascinating to him, the same and yet nothing like him. He'd held her hand during dinner, brushed her cheek, tucked her hair behind her ear during dessert and kissed her over coffee. She'd told herself it wasn't him, it was a carbon copy, not the original. A carbon copy with blurred edges, not quite the same, some rough and incomplete spots here and there, not the same... But then, then he'd traced down her neck with his mouth, all small kisses, flickering tongue and nipping teeth, his fingers joining in. Popping buttons open on her blouse, reaching in, stroking and teasing lace covered flesh and she didn't care, just didn't care. Because. Because she didn't. She wanted to have him, because he was so very good at this. Because she could.
He slid into her slowly, the weight of his body pinning her to the sofa and she arched upwards to meet him, wondering if this is what it would have been like with him. Would the rhythm have been the same, the feel of him inside her. Would he have felt like that, buried deeply in her? Would he have teased her nipples with his mouth, that never still, rarely silent mouth? And would his fingers have slid down and touched her like that as he'd picked up the pace, pushing faster, harder? She scraped her nails down his back as she climaxed and just as she came back to herself, she wondered if he would groan when he came like that, if he ever had come like that, sticky and hot inside of her.
She felt his breath against her neck as he shifted off her and she was sure she could feel the edges of him blur a little more, the copy degrading slightly. She moved away from him and reached for her clothes.
'I'm not him, you know. I have his memories, but I'm not him. I'm me.' He reached and stroked her back. 'I'm different.' He kissed her between the shoulder blades.
'I'm different. I'll be different. It'll be different.'
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Punchline
'Now, this part, Martha... This part is very interesting.'
The Doctor pointed to a diagram in a huge, ancient book and continued. 'See. All these extra bits and bobs... How do they all fit in?'
Martha peered at the book. She had no idea.
'Most organs are smaller. I have two hearts, but they are smaller. And more efficient. Naturally. I'm really a bit of a medical marvel, even if I am getting on a bit. Fit as a fiddle, me.' He grinned widely at her. 'Anyway, the organs are smaller but work at a higher level - huge lung capacity but I have a respiratory bypass system - can go without air for a while. Not for long, but it's certainly handy...'
He went to turn the page, but Martha stopped him.
'Is everything smaller?'
'Well, as I said, most are.'
'Just internal organs? What about external?'
The Doctor looked at her in something akin to shocked surprise. 'Martha Jones, I am surprised at you!' he blustered 'I... I...' He shook his head. 'I am lost for words, really. And not very often that happens, to be honest, as you well know.'
'I'm just interested. Medical curiosity. What if something happens to you, how do I know if you look 'normal' or not?' Martha said as seriously as she could. She wasn't being very successful.
'I am perfectly normal, I'll have you know. And I'm glad you find it so funny.' He slammed the book shut. Martha began to protest and say she was sorry when he stopped her.
'As you are so interested, Doctor Jones let's have a look at a live specimen, shall we?' He looked around, as if searching for something, stopped and then ambled up to Martha, hands in pockets. 'Oh. That would be me, then.' He unbuttoned his jacket and shirt, shrugging them off and then pulling at his tee shirt, all still within centimeters of Martha.
'Doctor, what are you doing?' She backed away slightly, until she hit the end of one of the tables in the TARDIS library.
The Doctor was now unzipping his trousers as he moved forward again, this time pressing himself against her as he stepped from his clothes, completely naked.
'Enough studying of books, doctor Jones; Time for a practical... Examination.' He slid a hand around her waist and pulled her to him, kissing her soundly. 'It's exam time. Let's see if you and I pass...'
He soon had her as naked as he was and sitting on the library table as he kissed down her body, making, he said, 'a through examination of her for his records.' The fact that his examination included liberal use of his tongue in various areas did not upset Martha one bit and she gave him a 'A-', only deducting points for not paying equal attention to her left breast as he had to her right.
He now stood between her open thighs as she kissed down his chest, charting the muscles of his back with her fingers. She was orally examining his nipples when she reached down to stroke him and stopped as she took him in her hand.
'Ahh.'
'Martha?'
She bit her lip, trying not to laugh. So it was external organs as well. Oh dear. What was she going to say to him? 'Nothing...'
'What is it about that tone of voice and that face that makes me not believe you?' He kissed her forehead.
'No really. Nothing. It really is...' She stroked him 'Nothing.' Oh, God. This was not going well, she thought.
'Good.' He smiled at her, a smug smile that seemed quite out of place in the circumstances. 'Because, my dear and lovely Martha Jones, I have a surprise for you.'
He suddenly pulled her to the edge of the table, pushing her thighs open wider and guided himself into her, thrusting hard.
Martha's eyes widened and she gasped. He was filling her completely, feeling huge and hard inside her, hitting just the right spot that made her shiver. He withdrew from her all the way and thrust again, making Martha groan with pleasure and he filled her again. She grasped his shoulders and looked at him. The Doctor grinned at her one of his hugest, most self-satisfied grins.
'So, Martha Jones, what have we learned today?' He thrust back into her. 'That Time Lords have some smaller, but superior functioning, organs.' Thrust. 'And of course, being a Time Lord I have one constant advantage.' He thrust once more and bent to nibble Martha's earlobe.
'What's that?' Martha squeaked breathlessly.
He moved his lips from her earlobe to whisper low to her.
'It's bigger on the inside.'
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)