and I breathed the dried seas the earth had lost

And why should I stop here?

2009-08-17T14:15:12Z

Putting it out here for all to see. The ones at the top are most active, and then I slowly progress downward. Sarah pointed out last night that out of thirteen characters, I started five of them in the last six months since I've been out here with her; clearly, she is a bad influence and so I blame her. ;)

Characters I Play
tara intuitivewiccan	finch hadthisfeeling	seventh doctor timewill_tell	mulder is_out_there	maria not_on_her_own
han solo falcon_pilot	death hauntedbyhumans	dana haveyoulived	kaylee just_havefaith	patrick detective_skid
rube nighthawkreaper	CJ oftentimeswitty	fourth doctor walkineternity

"No. It was just a feeling."

2009-08-16T23:09:49Z

I endeavor to get better about updating this. I really, really apologize for being so absent. I've been so focused on my RP characters and writing and making icons in my free time that I've neglected this journal. Humblest apologies.

In the meantime, you guys, I finally watched V for Vendetta for the first time...um, last week? Shame of shames, yes, I had not seen it all this time, though I had very much wanted to. So Sarah and I bought the V for Vendetta graphic novel a few weeks ago when the John Adams miniseries was on on sale for hella cheap on Amazon.com. And to get the free shipping, we needed something extra; Sarah & I had been saying we wanted the V for Vendetta graphic novel, so this was the perfect opportunity to get it. And we did. And I started reading it at work and desperately wanted to see the movie. Sarah finally found her copy, and we watched it. I loved it so much that we watched it the next night. And we've watched it two more times since then. All told, I've seen that movie four times in one and a half weeks, and have finished the graphic novel and OH LAWDY, I am obsessed. Mega, mega obsessed. So obviously I love V, and particularly love his beautiful use of language. I love Evey. But I also love the characters that other people probably don't recognize enough (or so I'm assuming, since most icons made and fics written are about V & Evey), namely Inspector Finch and Gordon Dietrich (hello, it's Stephen Fry, how can you not love him?). I have to say that I particularly love the portrayal of Finch in the film more than in the graphic novel, and prefer the film version. And when I say 'prefer' the film version, I mean that Inspector Finch is my favorite character. I think that whole domino scene really sealed it for me.

I'll probably be posting again later today because I've been making lots of icons recently and need to put them up in my icon journal, at long last.

How are you things with you, peeps? What's going on in your life?

"Maybe this time I'll win."

2009-03-19T20:53:34Z

I was going to do a picspam of Natasha Richardson as a final farewell, but I can't find it in me to do that, it just makes me too sad. I never followed her work religiously, but she was one of those actresses who was always on my periphery, as one to be aware of, one who was genuinely good at what she did. Not only that, she was just a classy, classy lady with a "luminous spirit" (to quote Dame Judi Dench). She will be greatly missed by me, and many fans the world over, and I know that is merely a whisper of the heartbreak and world-shattering grief her husband, sons, mother, sister, and other family members and friends must be experiencing right now.

As happens when all people pass away from this world: the sun has lost a little warmth, and a great star has dimmed in the sky.

I can summon up the motivation to link to this YouTube video, however. Thanks to soaked_in_stars for originally posting it. This is Natasha's performance of "Maybe This Time" in Cabaret. Have tissues handy. Be at peace, dear lady.

Always look on the bright side of life.

2009-03-16T21:05:59Z

Has anyone read The Book Thief? I bought it on Friday and have been engrossed. I'm about 250 pages in so far and it's got me thoroughly hooked. If anyone else has read it, I was hoping for some thoughts about whether Death is a corporeal being in the book or a spirit that just has a shape of some sort? He refers to himself as a 'he' so if he has a gender, does that come with a body? Or is he just a spirit? Thoughts?

I am so in love with California. I love finally being somewhere that you truly feel is home. Currently still job-hunting. I'll admit that I get frustrated at times, but you know, job searching is never a quick thing, even when the economy is great. Well, unless you're my mother. Sometimes I question whether or not I should have become a nurse like I once thought about doing, but then I think...no, I'm too much of a History geek to have majored in anything else. I know the job I get soon more than likely won't be in my field. And I think all of dealing with job search woes are entitled to be frustrated, but I refuse to give in to the ridiculous fear-mongering going on in this country in regards to the economy, because all that does is make everyone more depressed. And so, I refuse. The economy is not great right now, we are in a recession, things are gloomy. Why must we be reminded of this every single day, multiple times a day? This too shall pass, and in the meantime, let's all try to balance optimism with a bit of healthy cynicism and pragmatism. I'll get a job; I won't get one tomorrow, maybe not even this week or the next, but eventually. If I started thinking otherwise, then I would truly doom myself. And to those of you also job searching, really don't get down. Don't. That's the worst thing you can do. Keep going and keep breathing, and just remember not to stop.

I am wishing all the best for you, poppets, we're all going to be all right. Trust me. :D

justspies @ 2009-03-05T13:55:00

2009-03-05T22:08:34Z

Quick question: for those of you that enjoy chai tea, which way do you like it best? Hot or cold? If you like it cold, do you like it over ice, or do you like it in slush form?

Onto some pictures! Yesterday, Sarah pulled out a plush Manta Ray she'd gotten from the Monterrey Bay Aquarium. The plush Manta Ray's name? Monty! :D So anyway, we were playing with Sarah's Chihuahua, Bailey, and noticed that Bailey was being even more amusing than usual. So I documented the "Manta Ray attack" and subsequent defeat, in pictures. Enjoy!

The day begins to draw to a close, and the various members of the household slowly prepare for bedtime. Bailey is ready for bed as well, since she did not get enough sleep this particular day; being the guardian and protector of her people, however, she cannot go to sleep quite yet. She must be certain no dangers lurk in the shadows.

...and, wait? What's that sound?

Sneak attack!

Oh, fuck, it's a Manta Ray! It's in the house! Bailey must protect her people!

The tail is the most vulnerable spot, it cannot maneuver away if its tail is firmly lodged between sharp, vicious Chihuahua teeth, capable of shattering even the most crunchy bit of dog food.

It attempts to swim away, but Bailey still has its tail firmly lodged in her powerful jaws.

Bailey decides to up the ante, pouncing on the Manta Ray's body and searching out yet more vulnerable spots. In the process, she learns the Manta Ray is also ticklish. This provides her with even more of an advantage.

Tickle, tickle, crunch, thrash, tickle.

Food?

Monty the Manta Ray has been successfully subdued.

Sarah: "Oh, Bailey, you risked your life for us."
Kristin: "I was so terrified of the giant plush Manta Ray and you protected me, Bailey. I can't thank you enough."
Sarah: "How will we ever repay you?"
Bailey: "Continue worshiping me, pathetic mortals."

...tune in for our next installment. When Monty reappears, miraculously alive, will Bailey once again continue trying to kill it? Will they reach a truce? Is it possible, even, that friendship, or something more, could arise between Bailey and Monty? Stay tuned.

That dog is so freakin' cuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuute. :D

"All right, fine, I'll be a dwarf, but my name is Carlos."

2009-01-15T01:30:28Z

So I love doing picspams for things that I have a great deal of interest in, and also love getting people hooked on shows. It's been two and a half years since I did a picspam for Freaks and Geeks so I think it's about time for another one. This is one of my all-time favorite shows, I rewatch episodes a lot. In a nutshell, the show is a drama-comedy (most of the quotes I picked were humorous, but it's not a sitcom or anything, it's definitely more of a 'dramedy') it centers around Lindsay Weir and her brother Sam (they have a subtle, but close sibling bond that at times reminds me of the bond between my brother and I, only I would be Sam and my brother would be Lindsay) and their respective friends, the freaks and the geeks.

If you watch the show, then enjoy the nostalgia. If you don't watch, hopefully this piques your interest. And really, if you don't watch, you need to. 'Nuff said.

QUOTES

Neal: "The dance is tomorrow. She's a cheerleader. You've seen Star Wars 27 times. You do the math."

Mr. Rosso: "You're our best Mathlete."
Lindsay: "Please don't say that."

Nick: "Teachers want us to work, and I say, 'Fine, I'll work. But you've gotta let me do the kind of work that I wanna do.' And for me, it's my drum kit, man. This is my passion. This is the essence of who I am now. But before I had this, I was lost, too. You see what I'm saying? You need to find your reason for living. You've gotta find your big, gigantic drum kit."

Mr. Weir: "I used to have a friend who smoked, you know what happened to him? He died!"

Lindsay: "All my new friends think I'm some goody-two-shoes and all my old friends think I'm throwing my life away. What the hell am I supposed to do?"

Mr. Weir: "Elvis didn't expectorate on his fans."
Sam: "No. But he died on the toilet."
Mr. Weir: "Well, that's paradise compared to where the Sex Pistols are gonna end up."

Daniel: "I love being told not to drink by a pot-head hippie guidance counselor."

Neal: "Bill, Dallas sucks."
Bill: "You suck! Dallas rules!"

Lindsay: "Hey, Bill. Get up. That's how the drummer from Led Zeppelin died."

Mr. Weir: "Last time I had this much fun, I was pinned down in a foxhole by the North Koreans."

Millie: "She does it."
Lindsay: "What do you mean, it?"
Millie: "She fornicates it!"

Sam: "Will girls ever like us?"
Neal: "I think our best play is to go for the smart, sexy librarian type."

Daniel: "Rock 'n roll don't come from your brain. It comes from your crotch."

Bill: "It wasn't a squeak. It was the sound of cheese being cut."

Bill: "Fredericks, you're a turd...a stinky f-fat turd. Go sniff a jock strap, you poop head. You love patting boys' butts...butt...you butt-patter! You're a perv and a loser and a stinky t-turd!"

Mr. Weir: "You think I don't appreciate you? Well, I do. Everything I do I do to serve you. I think of you when I'm stocking fishing poles. I think of you when I'm answering questions about cross country ski wax. My whole life is about serving you. And I love you, Jean."

Neal: "So I wake up this morning, and guess what's sitting at the foot of my bed?"
Bill: "A turd?"
Neal: "Yes Bill, a turd."

Daniel: "All right, fine, I'll be a dwarf, but my name is Carlos."
Bill: "Carlos the dwarf?"
Daniel: "Yeah, you got a problem with that, Gorthon?"

Sam: "I don't need another friend. I already have two."

Lindsay: "We're all unhappy. That's the thing about life."

Bill: "No, these are not bionic...these are all me."

Lindsay: "Mr. Rosso, Nick and I are just friends."
Mr. Rosso: "Hey, no need to explain anything to me. I got it on in a van at Woodstock."

Recipe: Funny Cake

2008-10-24T19:23:57Z

FUNNY CAKE

So what makes it 'funny'? Well, the fact that first of all, no one can decide whether it's pie or cake. It's...cake in a pie crust. Secondly, you put the batter into the pie crust first, pour the chocolate syrup over it, and then the syrup drizzles down while it bakes (creating a marbled effect with the cake) and when it's done, there's a layer of fudge on the bottom. Everyone has their own preference, but most people seem to prefer this when it's been chilled for a few hours, or overnight, to allow the fudge layer time to harden and thicken.

SYRUP

1 1/2 c. brown sugar
1 1/2 c. hot water
3/4 c. cocoa
1 1/2 tsp. vanilla

Bring to a boil and set aside to cool.

BATTER
1 1/2 c. sugar
1/2 c. melted shortening
2 eggs
1 1/4 c. milk
1 tsp. vanilla
2 1/2 c. flour
2 1/2 tsp. baking powder
1/4 tsp. baking soda
1/2 tsp. salt

Pour batter into unbaked pie shell. Spoon chocolate syrup over batter. Bake in 400 degree oven 15 minutes, then turn oven down to 375 and bake until done (about 25-35 min., so keep a watchful eye on it or it will dry out). Makes 2-9" or 1 deep 10" size pies.

You will have lots of extra batter. Unless you have one really deep pie crust and pan, you'll actually get two pies out of this. So you can make two funny cakes, or get inventive with the extra however you please.

NOTE: When you're baking this, prepare for the likelihood that some of the chocolate syrup will spill over the edges while it's baking, so I recommend putting the funny cake on a foil-covered baking sheet as a preventative measure.

Doesn't look like much on the outside...

But positively sinful inside. :D

"A dream is an answer to a question we haven't yet learned how to ask."

2008-09-10T21:38:04Z

Another post today, because I have to honor the occasion: LJ tells me that today, in 1993, The X-Files first aired. I have such unadulterated, unwavering love for that show. It was the first show I ever got "hooked" on, and I remember very vividly the summer that I got hooked. It was 1997...I was just about to enter seventh grade, and little did I know how much that show would come to help me and be some sort of odd touchstone in that particular school year.

So to celebrate, I have pics and quotes below the cut.

My favorite episode? I cannot choose, I refuse to. When you have a show you love and are unashamedly obsessed with, it's rather hard to pick just one episode, especially when there were so many good ones. Off the top of my head?

Bad Blood
Pusher
Home
Memento Mori
Small Potatoes
Detour
Post-Modern Prometheus
Triangle
Dreamland I & II
Rain King
Tithonus
The Unnatural
Orison
All Souls
Ice
Beyond the Sea

...lots more.

Which leads me to my current quandary; I received a $50 giftcard for Barnes & Noble from my aunt and uncle (the sweetest people, and I miss them terribly; they live in Ohio, so I rarely get to see them) for my college graduation. I really, really want to buy A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, and spend the difference purchasing a DVD I've been lusting after. The problem is that I'm lusting after lots of DVDs. I thought about getting a season of The X-Files; I only have Season 3, and logically, I really need Season 1, but Seasons 4-6 are my favorites. I hate making decisions like this. There are also some other shows and movies I want, so I might decide to just put The X-Files on the backburner for now. But I can't...damnit!

Anyway, enjoy my tribute to one of the best shows ever made.

QUOTES

Mulder: "Yeah... he wants advice. Dating advice.
Scully: "Dating advice? From whom?"
Mulder: "Yours truly. Hello? Hey, Scully. Scully, you there?"
Scully: "I heard you. Mulder, when was the last time you went on a date?"
Mulder: "I will talk to you later."
Scully: "The blind leading the blind."

Mulder: "I think that what we *may* be looking at is what appears to be a series of vampire or vampire-like acts."
Scully: "On what do you base that?!"
Mulder: "Uh ... well, on the corpses drained of blood and the fang marks on the neck. But, as always, I'm very eager to hear your opinion."
Scully: "Well, it's obviously not a vampire."
Mulder: "Well, why not?"
Scully: "Because they don't exist?"

Mulder: "Were you abducted?"
Amanda: "Huh? No, no, he dropped by my apartment one day, and one thing sort of led to another..."
Mulder: "But the baby's father is an alien?"
Amanda: "No, no, I didn't say he was an alien, I said he was from another planet. His name is Luke Skywalker. He's what's known as a Jedi Knight."
Scully: "Did he have a lightsaber?"
Amanda: "No, he didn't bring it."

Scully: "Have you thought seriously about dying?"
Mulder: "Yeah, once, when I was at the Ice Capades."

Scully: "Mulder, it is such a gorgeous day outside. Have you ever entertained the idea of trying to find life on this planet?"
Mulder: "I have seen the life on this planet, Scully, and that is exactly why I am looking elsewhere."

Scully: "Oh my God, Mulder. It smells like... I think it's bile."
Mulder: "Is there any way I can get it off my fingers quickly without betraying my cool exterior?"

Mulder: "Dear Diary, today my heart leapt when Agent Scully suggested Spontaneous Human Combustion."

Scully: "Your contact, while interesting in the context of science fiction, was, at least in my memory, recounting a poorly-veiled synopsis of an episode of Rocky and Bullwinkle."

Scully: "Well, it seems to me that the best relationships--the ones that last--are frequently the ones that are rooted in friendship. You know, one day you look at the person and you see something more than you did the night before. Like a switch has been flicked somewhere. And the person who was just a friend is... suddenly the only person you can ever imagine yourself with."

Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?

2008-09-07T16:44:40Z

Have you ever seen
anything
in your life
more wonderful

than the way the sun,
every evening,
relaxed and easy,
floats toward the horizon

and into the clouds or the hills,
or the rumpled sea,
and is gone--
and how it slides again

out of the blackness,
every morning,
on the other side of the world,
like a red flower

streaming upward on its heavenly oils,
say, on a morning in early summer,
at its perfect imperial distance--
and have you ever felt for anything
such wild love--
do you think there is anywhere, in any language,
a word billowing enough
for the pleasure

that fills you,
as the sun
reaches out,
as it warms you

as you stand there,
empty-handed--
or have you too
turned from this world--

or have you too
gone crazy
for power,
for things?

* Picture taken by me, last week. Poem by the incomparable Mary Oliver.

Seven/Ace Drabblefest!

2008-06-22T07:20:45Z

So, for those interested, I set-up a drabblefest for Seven & Ace (Doctor Who), and it can be found at the new writing journal I just set up for myself: Seven/Ace Drabblefest!

And speaking of that, I figured I'd set up a writing journal for things like that, pertaining to fic from different fandoms, so I don't clutter up my personal LJ quite so much. If you care to add me, le writing journal is thedunesea. Why yes, I do aspire to be a reclusive, old, semi-crazy, retired Jedi Knight.

Drabblefest prospects.

2008-06-20T18:30:14Z

I was thinking there should be a Seven/Ace Drabblefest. I've been seeing lots of drabblefest/drabble-athons (and various other monikers) lately, and thought there should be one specifically for this pairing. Trouble is, I'm not sure how many people would participate, or even how to advertise it. And it wouldn't be limited solely to 'shippy drabbles, either. But I thought, perhaps, it could be fun. Any of you know people who would possibly be interested, and where would be a good place to advertise? I figure I could just host it in my journal, or possibly on a community, if one allowed it.

Happiness is my default position

2008-03-13T01:40:41Z

I've been looking for a distraction, and I thought I'd try something a bit different.

Just to allow for more honesty, and possibly creativity, I've turned anonymous comments on. So say whatever you want!

Question: What makes you happy?

I'm crazy about the roundness of your head

2008-03-04T07:37:21Z

I really have nothing to say, I figure I'll just let this entry speak for itself. Escapism, thy name is Kristin. See, picpsams are an excellent way to excuse yourself from life, wouldn't you agree?

And so, I present to you a picspam (with 30-something pictures) of possibly my most favorite television character of all time, C.J. Cregg. Yes, I am hopelessly in love with her, too. Pretty much, I 'ship C.J. with anyone, but most especially, I 'ship her with me. :D

Enjoy!

QUOTES
[leaving the press briefing room] "Set fire to the room. Do it now."

"Damn, you know what I forgot to do today? I forgot to check the president's glands."

"We could all be better teachers."

"I can suggest some other things you can do with yourself."

"Yes, Steve, I can tell you all those things, because when I said we weren't releasing any information whatsoever, I meant except his name, his address, his ethnicity, and what we think his motive was."

"You get my support the same way I get yours--when I agree with what you're saying, or when I don't care what you're saying."

"The President has asked Josh Lyman and Sam Seaborn to run these meetings, so it's entirely possible that by week's end, we'll have alienated Christians, China, and our government."

"Who cares? It's a breakfast to trumpet a new spirit of bipartisanship, cooperation, and understanding in the new year, no one's going to be listening to each other anyway."

"The Post is calling it sleek, challening, and oftentimes witty, not unlike myself."

"I'm The Enforcer, Sam. I'm going to crush him, I'm going to make him cry, and then I'm gonna tell his mama about it."

"I'm drawing inspiration from the strength of the Goff family, the descendants of Hunter John and the owners and operators of the Goff family mill for more than two centuries now. In 1846, when Theodore Odie Goff was the proprietor, the mill burned to the ground. Well, that totally blows."

"I don't know, desks, a blackboard--could be some kind of classroom."

"Leo, we need to be investigated by someone who wants to kill us just to watch us die. We need someone perceived by the American public as being irresponsible, untrustworthy, partisan, ambitious, and thirsty for the lime light. Am I crazy or is this not a job for the US House of Representatives?"

"Oh, me-oh, oh, my-oh. Oh, Cleveland, Ohio!"

"When I came in here, back in the late 50s, there was a purpose to it, but then one thing led to another and I blacked out. I mean, I can hang in there with the best of them, sir, but somewhere in the discussion of anise and coriander and the other 15 spices you like to use to baste a turkey, I simply lost consciousness."

"Someone's gonna get an ass-kickin' from the missus."

"So how long do you usually make people your bitch?"

"I'm sitting here listening and already I've turned to a life of crime."

"Red Mass, Red Mass, Red Mass, you say. Red Mass is at... You're right, ten o'clock at the Shrine of the Immaculate Conception. Which is also what they called my dorm room in college."

"Bring it, boss."

"Well, this is exactly what happened to Ebeneezer Scrooge, who was a very nice little guy until something happened with Mr. Fezziwig that I can't remember."

"You've got a very nice sass yourself, sir."

"The theme of the Egg Hunt is 'learning is delightful and delicious' - as, by the way, am I."

"Excuse me, I need to go look like an idiot."

C.J. to Toby: "I'm crazy about the roundness of your head."

"Listen, I know better than to stick my face in your personal life, except, you know, for sport."

"No, I didn't mean that you have no social skills, Toby. I'm sorry if you think I was being insensitive to your... I... I think you're very--You're a very pretty girl, Toby."

"Don't be fooled, they love us in Orange County. They're crazy-go-nuts for the President, though really the whole Democratic Party in general. I think they really like it when we come to town. When we were there last month, we were working the crowd and some young boys, worried possibly that I couldn't afford fruits and vegetables on a government salary, tossed me some of their own."

"I'm the press secretary, boo-boo. I don't have that kind of time."

"I need numbers fast, maybe some garlic and a crucifix."

"Smaller than me is a shrub."

"What girl can resist being referred to as poultry?"

"If we're not running offense, we're running defense. And if we're playing defense, then there's some clever sports analogy that explains what happens then."

"They made him say Hail Marys as they beat him to death. This was a crime of entertainment...beyond the crime itself is a manifestation of racism or sexism or anti-Semitism or homophobia that are only the tip of the iceberg of the pathology troubling this country."

"We have, at our disposal, a captive audience of schoolchildren. Some of them don't go to the blackboard or raise their hand 'cause they're think they're gonna be wrong. I think you should say to these kids, 'You think you get it wrong sometimes? You should come down here and see how the big boys do it.' I think you should tell them you haven't given up hope and that it may turn up, but in the meantime, you want NASA to put its best people in a room and start building Galileo VI. Some of them will laugh, and most of them won't care, but for some, they might honestly see that it's about going to the blackboard and raising your hand. And that's the broader theme."

"How about instead of suggesting that we sell the guns to them, suggesting that we shoot the guns at them. And by the way, not to change the subject, but how are we supposed to have any moral credibility when we talk about gun control and making sure guns don't get into the hands of the wrong people? God, Nancy, what the hell are we defining as the right people?"

"Obviously there’s one story that’s gonna be dominating the news around the world for the next few days. And it would be easy to think that President Bartlet, Joshua Lyman, and Stephanie Abbott were the only people who were victims of a gun crime last night. They weren't. Mark Davis and Sheila Evans of Philadelphia were killed by a gun last night. He was a biology teacher and she was a nursing student. Tina bishop and Belinda Larkin were killed with a gun last night. They were twelve. There were36 homicides last night. 480 sexual assaults. 3411 robberies. 3685 aggravated assaults. All at gun point. And if anyone thinks those crimes could have been prevented if the victims themselves had been carrying guns, I’d only remind you that the President of the United States was shot last night while surrounded by the best trained guards in the history of the world."

C.J.: "Tell me we're not conducting mind control research at the Pentagon."
Leo: "We're not conducting mind control research at the Pentagon."
C.J.: "You're not doing it on me right now?"

Josh: "I really think I'm the best judge of what I mean, you paranoid Berkeley shiksa feminista! Whoa, that was way too far."
C.J.: "No, no. Well, I've got a staff meeting to go to and so do you, you elitistist Harvard fascist missed-the-dean's-list-two-semesters-in-a-row Yankee jack-ass!"
Josh: "Feel better gettin' that off your chest there, C.J.?"
C.J.: "I'm a whole new woman."
Josh: "You look like a million bucks, by the way."
C.J.: "Don't try to make up with me."

C.J.: "Hey, Spanky."
Sam: "Oh, God. What'd I do?"

C.J.: "You mock me?"
President Bartlet: "I do. May I continue to?"
C.J.: "Yes, sir."

President Bartlet: "Claudia Jean, did you just pinch Toby?"
C.J.: "I'm sorry, sir. It was a professional dispute."

C.J.: "So that leaves us with the televised classroom, the green beans, the stamp, and depending on who those people were that were standing near me, the possibility of a story about me being good in bed."
Toby: "Good in bed."
C.J.: "Yes."
Toby: "Why?"
C.J.: "Because I am!"

Bruno: "Man, you have got a killer body. You know that?"
C.J.: "In fact, I do."

C.J.: "Well, you've earned it! Sam, Sam, the sunshine man. Get on the couch, I'm gonna do you right here."
Sam: "Okay."
C.J.: "Sorry, I was still talking to Carol."
Sam: "What is wrong with you?"
C.J.: "We really don't know."
Sam: "If you were really serious about that thing with Carol I could just sit in the corner and not say-"
C.J.: "Get out!"

C.J.: "What's your secret service code name?"
Sam: "They just changed them."
C.J.: "I know. What's yours?"
Sam: "Princeton."
C.J.: "Mine's Flamingo."
Sam: "That's nice."
C.J.: "No, it's not nice."
Sam: "A Flamingo's a nice looking bird."
C.J.: "A Flamingo is a ridiculous looking bird."
Sam: "You're not ridiculous looking."
C.J.: "I know I'm not ridiculous looking."
Sam: "Any way for me to get out of this conversation?"

C.J.: "I'm experiencing some pain."
Sam: "For how long?"
C.J.: "About a month now, but it'll go away by itself."
Sam: "When?"
C.J.: "When I die, Sam."

C.J.: "Pretend like you're talking to me again."
Sam: "Okay, but this time, let's use code names."
C.J.: "Where's Josh?"
Sam: "He's over there talking to that woman."
C.J.: "Interesting."
Sam: "Of course, it's possible they're just pretending to be talking."
C.J.: "Indeed."

Doctor Who Fic: Bodies Into Pillars Of Light

2008-02-25T20:30:55Z

Title: Bodies Into Pillars of Light
Fandom: Doctor Who
Characters/Pairing: Seven/Ace
Rating: G
Disclaimer: The characters here are the property of the BBC, and I make no claims to them.
Summary: The Doctor and Ace come to some realizations about themselves, and each other.
Notes: The title is lovingly nicked from a Mary Oliver poem, "In Blackwater Woods".

His fingers brushed against the slick rock with quiet wonder. He was ruminating, ostensibly far removed from everything else, everyone else, and it was as though nothing but the slow cadence of his own heartbeats anchored him to reality. At least, outwardly, he appeared that way, but the Doctor's silences often belied a frenetic, hyper-aware mind within.

The Doctor brought his moist hands to his nose, sniffing briefly before pressing his forefinger lightly to his tongue, and smiling in a way that dispelled shadows.

Ace divided her time watching him with mild chagrin and searching for even the tiniest gap between rocks, desperate for a way out. She groaned exaggeratedly as her attempt to remove a small rock only led to another blocked exit. As she threw the object on the ground in frustration, it split into three pieces, echoing with an oddly pleasant hum.

The Doctor's attention was briefly diverted away from his contemplation, and with his pointer finger pressed to his chin, he murmured ruefully to one of the fragments, "You'll have to forgive her, she gets tetchy in confined spaces."

This time, Ace glared at him, crossing her arms and leaning against the cave wall. "Better to take my frustrations out on a rock than on you."

"But I don't break so easily," he countered, evenly.

"Didn't realize a rock would splinter like an egg," she tossed back, narrowing her eyes to see him better in the dim lighting.

"Many things are more fragile than you might assume they are. Appearances can be deceiving, after all."

Ace rolled her eyes, crouching to scoop the largest bit of rock among the debris into the palm of her hand, and standing up again to situate herself against the smooth wall.

"Know that well enough now," she eventually spoke.

The Doctor moved away from his vantage point at last, standing in front of Ace with his hands folded behind his back. He had a smug look on his face that might have annoyed her if it didn't simply confuse her for the moment.

"What?"

Even now, in this cave on Terexia, circling a sun she'd never heard of, the Doctor's eyes were holding memories: tea with Charles Darwin, sailboats frozen to lakes, and trees that grew lanterns--he was here, but beyond, forever in two places; in the present, in the past, seeing everywhere he could go, and everything that could be.

Finally, he brought his right hand out, uncurling his fingers to reveal the small, silver device he had given her. It had a complicated technical name, but for ease of reference, she simply referred to it as a keychain. It certainly functioned as one, though from what the Doctor had said--or not said, which spoke volumes--it was far more than that.

"You dropped this," he smiled, pressing the button to turn on its light--blue as the drowning tips of glaciers.

Ace took it, turning it over for a moment before slipping it into her pocket. "How--"

"Such ardent contempt for these harmless, if vexing, rocks," his voice rose in pitch, amusedly, "caused you to carelessly drop it. Luckily, I was observant enough to notice."

"But you were--"

"Appearances, Ace," he reminded her.

"Looked like you were havin' a moment with those rocks over there, Professor," Ace snickered lowly to herself.

Either the Doctor had not heard her, or chose to ignore it. She believed the latter, now.

"I always see you," the Doctor admitted, turning sharply and digging through Ace's rucksack for the blanket he'd stuffed in there. She had disbelieved he could make it fit, but he'd proved her wrong, as he often did, to her consternation.

"Should I name it?" Ace asked.

As the Doctor unfolded the blanket, he questioned softly, "Name what?"

"The sonic keychain thing you gave me."

"It's not sonic, Ace, it's--"

"Yeah, yeah, but I'm thinkin' of what to call it."

"If you so detest calling it by its designation, I don't see why 'keychain' isn't suitable," he responded, taking a seat on the ground and leaning against the cave wall with the voluminous blanket draped across his lap.

"Sometimes people name things," Ace shrugged, watching him closely.

Finally, the Doctor smiled gently. "What would you name it?"

"Charlie?" Ace offered, curling her fingers around the rock she still held, and shifting to where the Doctor sat. "For Charlie Parker."

His grin still in place, the Doctor tilted his head a fraction, urging her to sit as he pulled on the corners of the blankets, the invitation implicit in the gesture. Wordlessly, Ace obliged his entreaty, digging the heels of her sneakers into the solid ground as she shifted comfortably.

"Saxophone," the Doctor replied with a laconic phrase perhaps ambiguous to anyone else.

"John Coltrane," Ace grinned, sliding her back just slightly closer against the Doctor's stomach.

"Oh, someone with a 'C'," the Doctor pondered. "Count Basie."

"Big Band. Benny Goodman," Ace pulled the blanket closer in conjunction with the Doctor's own fingers tightening the fabric around her shoulders. "Think we could go to the Grand Terrace Ballroom in Chicago next? See 'em performing in their glory?"

"I'd say we deserve it, after this mildly disastrous holiday," the Doctor mused.

Ace snorted. "Wasn't so bad, Professor, we're just here all night in this cave, is all."

"Yes, until the daylight softens the rocks into malleable clay," he supplied, absently.

Ace looked at the own rock in her hand, brushing her thumbprint across the slick surface and smiling in wonder as the faint light flashed rapid shifts of vibrant color across the refractable face.

"So this rock...won't be a rock once the light gets it," Ace pondered.

"Yes," the Doctor lingered the sibilant.

"Bit of a shame. 'S pretty."

"Rare is the beauty that transcends time, Ace, much as we would sometimes wish otherwise," the Doctor permitted himself to place his hands on her shoulders, squeezing through the blanket with a caustic touch only he could ever manage.

Ace set the rock down then, leaning into the Doctor and smiling thoughtfully. "So go on, Professor, now we're on the subject: what's beautiful to you?"

In response to her question, and her acquiescent shift, he brought his hands slowly down, resting against her lower ribs.

"Nothing traditional," he affirmed.

Though he couldn't see it, Ace rolled her eyes. "Yeah, figured that. Doesn't matter, I wanna know."

"Well," he began, his eyes reanimating dormant memories, "the ice fields of Delmar, which are particularly pleasant to look upon when the violet sun is at its highest point. A flower holding rain. The last of the singing trees of Vaxcara. And then there's held hands linking people for transient, lovely moments in time. Hugs are delightful, and the dreamers of the universe should never stop believing that all ills can be lessened with embraces. Oh, what else? Constants."

Ace was silent for a minute, bringing her knees down and stretching her legs out to relax further.

"Was that satisfactory?" He questioned.

"Oh, yeah, it was."

The Doctor was tempted to ask her for her own opinion on beauty, but was suddenly more concerned with distracting her from whatever was troubling her. Removing one hand from her side, he brushed his palm and fingers firmly against the rock moisture again, holding it before her.

"Touch my hand, Ace," he urged, in that deceptively melodic, commanding voice he so often used.

She obliged, quietly waiting for the explanation he was sure to give.

"Taste it," he instructed, watching the back of her head as Ace brought her pointer finger to her tongue.

"Chocolate," Ace smiled, licking her thumb. "Tastes like chocolate."

The Doctor paused; it was but a brief hesitation to Ace, though it felt protracted to the Doctor. At last, he came to a decision, though with her back to him, Ace would have had no way of knowing that he had been pondering anything at all.

"Ace, would you like to see what I see?"

At that, her head turned, eyes wide as the sea beckoning companionship. "What d'ya mean, Professor?"

"A flash, Ace, like a photograph. But for a minute, you can see what I see. Not at quite the same depth, I have no desire to overwhelm your mind, even briefly. But you can see what I've told you about, and more. The insides of a star, the veins of life everywhere, the whisper of eternity. This water that tastes like chocolate is far more than it would appear to be."

A half-smiled quirked her lips, and her eyes twinkled. "I wanna see, Professor."

That's my girl, his mind rumbled silently.

Looking directly into her trusting, depthless corneas with his own, the Doctor flattened his palm against her cheek, watching her eyes close as she drew in a slow breath. An incipient understanding came over her face, one he dared himself to find commiseration and perspicacity with. She could see the beauty of the universe, but also its inherent harshness. It struck him as selfish, in that moment, to thrust such a comprehensive awareness upon her, but she bore it as he expected her to, as he'd taught her to. Gingerly, his fingertips brushed her cheekbone as she opened her eyes.

"Professor..." Ace's voice was hushed, teeming with awe.

"Yes," he nodded.

"You..."

"How did it feel, Ace?" He questioned, removing his fingertips and scrutinizing every flicker of thought and emotion in her expression.

She had touched the smooth, esoteric edges of the universe, and was immutably linked with the one creature who was doomed to mend its holes in perpetuity.

"I don't see beauty, really, Professor. Think it's bollocks, if ya ask me, but...there's one thing I guess I'd call beautiful," Ace finally spoke.

"And what is that, Ace?"

"Knowin' I've got somethin' important to hold onto. I've got...this," she curled her fingers around his hand, tentatively, "and even when it goes, if it goes...I had it."

The Doctor smiled the infrequent smile he reserved for these moments, the smile now given only to her.

"I would be remiss if I neglected to mention one of the other things I find beautiful," he murmured lowly.

"An' what's that?" Ace asked, innocently curious.

"You," he said, nonchalantly.

Ace's brows knotted together in confusion. "Me? Why?"

"Because you're wearing the hours I never see."

"You...what?"

"How does a Time Lord mark time? Or keep time, for that matter?"

"All right, Professor, tell me," Ace smirked casually to belie her dueling bemusement and wonder.

"With a constant," he tapped her nose, "in a universe of impermanence."

I anchor myself to you.

He could not give himself completely away, because there were slivers of truth about him that, once revealed, would bare his soul to the vestiges of star fragments unforgiving of those afraid to endure silence. And because he was unwilling to walk the lost empires of starlight, he shifted life so he could forget the things he was supposed to bear alone: loneliness, and centuries after a name was anchored only to his memory.

fin.

Anybody remotely interesting is mad in some way

2008-02-17T09:39:18Z

Apparently a rather bad line of thunderstorms will be hitting us later today. I'm tempted to call it The Storm, with its epicness and such. So...I wanted to get this done in case the power goes out. Please enjoy!

SEVENTH DOCTOR FANMIX

"I loathe bus stations: terrible places, full of lost luggage and lost souls."

Fic: Doctor Who

2008-02-12T07:50:51Z

Title: Catharsis
Fandom: Doctor Who + Sarah Jane Adventures
Rating: G
Disclaimer: Alas, the characters do not belong to me.
Characters: Seventh Doctor, Maria Jackson (SJA)
Summary: The Doctor is accorded a moment of quiet comfort as he reflects on someone he left behind, and someone he's gained.
Notes: Soooo...hearts_blood and I had this idea for an AU where a more aged Seventh Doctor (because he was rather fond of babies and slightly more paternalistic than other incarnations) is semi-involved in Maria Jackson's life, sort of as a grandfather/father figure, and I wanted to write this piece. And I also suppose (along with others!) that Maria Jackson is the granddaughter of Ben and Polly Jackson. :) So...full circle. In this fic, Maria is a few months old.

The Doctor removed his duffel coat, draping it across the rocking chair adjacent to the crib. Glancing thoughtfully at the overhead light in the room, the Doctor switched it off, his face beaming as the room dimmed, with nothing but the tiny lamp on the dresser to illuminate it. Then he reached for the mobile he had brought with him, hanging it carefully from the ceiling above the crib, assuring its tightness with his sonic screwdriver.

At once, the shadowed walls were decorated with the mellowed tangerine hue of artificial stars, twisting slowly across the room and catching the baby's eyes, teasing dreams at her young mind. Pocketing the sonic screwdriver, the Doctor finally bent down to carefully scoop the baby into his arms. At first, he held her slightly away from him, his left hand gently cradling her neck as his right hand held her lower body against his chest. She made slight, feeble movements, adjusting to this sudden departure from her crib, and wondering, with the silent awe of a wordless infant, at the strange man holding her.

"Hello, Maria Jackson, I'm the Doctor. There are many gestures people employ when they meet others for the first time--a hand shake, a tip of the hat. Those more familiar might greet one another with hugs or kisses, but I think this first meeting, we'll stick with me holding you, if you don't mind. I have an affinity for holding babies, and it's been a terribly long time since I've had the chance to do so."

He smiled brightly at her, bending down and making soft noises akin to those emitted by birds. As she couldn't speak, or giggle much just yet, young Maria Jackson simply gurgled at him, the corners of her young mouth uplifting minutely in a smile.

"Yes, sometimes I change form a bit. It's dull to fulfill but one role in life, you know. I'm very rarely called upon to be more than a Time Lord. Just now, however, I get to be a silly old traveller--who could just be any other man, upon first glance--holding a little one."

With deliberate care, he adjusted the infant in his arms so that she was tucked against his chest, securing his arms around her body as he lowered himself into the rocking chair.

"You'll find I'm often content talking with myself. To myself, at times, should the need arise. And then there's talking for myself and around myself, and even the rarer times when I talk without myself," he chuckled. "Don't worry, I'm only a bit mad. The most interesting people usually are, I always say."

Maria gurgled again, and her fisted left hand waved aimlessly in the air. Adjusting her head so it rested on his forearm, the Doctor used his free hand to gingerly grasp her slight appendage, playing with her fingers.

"I can tell already--you've got capable hands. I would imagine you can do...oh, anything with them. The piano? Painting? Cooking? Sculpting?" Then the Doctor cracked a grin. "Ah! I'll teach you to play the spoons, Maria-girl. We'll be an impeccable duet."

He pressed a kiss to her tiny fingers, then shifted to reach for a book on the dresser. As he balanced it against the arm of the rocking chair, he grew progressively unimpressed with the story it presented, and set the book back in its place.

"It seems silly to read from a book when I need only stretch casually into my capacious mind and pull out one of innumerable memories to share with you. Memories--little photographs seared into the mind. Memories are stories, and stories are exempt from the consequences of time."

Maria's elbow hovered close to her body, her fingers curling at the stars shimmering on her wall, just out of reach.

"So what story shall I tell you, Maria?"

Her hand went to her mouth, and there was that slight curve to her lips once more that warmed his ancient hearts as the sun enfolds the seas in a blanket of celestial silence. Her eyes diverted briefly to the turning mobile above her crib.

"The stars? Well, it's hard to tell you much about them. But you can touch them someday, should you wish."

The baby yawned, and the Doctor smiled tenderly down at her, brushing his hand against the minuscule tufts of hair on her head, soft as down.

"I suppose there's time yet for stories. When you're a bit older, I'll tell you about the suns that sing and the birds that dance; the trees painting rivers and the fields of starflowers." He tapped her nose fondly. "I might tell you, someday, what you've done, what you're doing...for my hearts that live in silence for too many years at a time."

He thought his granddaughter, the niche she filled that would never be replaced, a void supplanting her physical presence. But the ache that leaving her had given him was slowly mending, and he held the infant girl closer in silent gratitude. When Maria yawned again, blinking sleepily up at him, he cleared his throat and started to sing "Moon River" in a hushed, steady voice. He thought of the incarnations preceding this one that might have been averse to such sentimentality. But as he watched Maria's eyes close, pretending for a moment he was nothing but a grandfather again, briefly, he felt blessedly content. For a moment, the universe imparted a semblance of mercy.

fin.

justspies @ 2008-01-23T00:50:00

2008-01-23T06:58:57Z

I just wanted to say a little something about Heath Ledger passing away. It's not going to be eloquent and masterful, it's just some thoughts I've had. I'm genuinely saddened, and was even more gutted when I saw pictures of him toting his daughter around on his shoulders. Images like that sink his loss in even deeper. I've seen people mention that it's silly to be so sad about a celebrity's death when there are plenty of other 28-year-olds, or fathers, or brothers, sisters, aunts, mothers, etc. who die that we don't hear about. Because they're not famous, or they didn't die in the bus crash that made front page news.

Point is, a lot of people die that we'll never know about. In a way, I think his loss is a reminder of that. It's a reminder of the people who pass away quietly, who are just as important to everyday people as actors might be to their fans. We can be touched by people's talent and grace and apparent character and personality. We can miss people we never knew. I firmly believe this.

And it's on my mind even more palpably today because a 19-year-old girl who goes to my college was killed in a car crash last weekend on her way home to visit her family. It's been on my mind -- thinking about how her family must have felt, what this girl was like, etc. And there was a newspaper article in our school newspaper about a girl who was raped and murdered on my college campus a decade ago. It was a decade ago, but she shouldn't be forgotten just because of that. No one ever should, no matter the circumstances or the passage of time

So, rest in peace, Heath Ledger. And the other souls who go without mention.

justspies @ 2007-12-28T16:42:00

2007-12-28T21:43:36Z

Doctor Who Love Meme = a thing of beauty, which I have been intermittently spamming all day, in between mum's best friend flying in from Delaware, and baking an apple pie for company.

Really? I'm terribly fond of you, Sarah, and I don't find it any trouble at all

2007-12-22T00:25:15Z

FINALLY! I finished it!

Fourth Doctor/Sarah Jane Smith Fanmix

The OTP-iest of OTPs. :D!

And go ahead and commence with the mocking of my taste in music. That's not even an unusual dichotomy; the best amusement is had when "Back in Black" pops up right after "As Time Goes By."

People imagine they can reach other

2007-12-03T05:26:02Z

All right, for the hell of it, fifteen icons of composers. I have sunk to a new low in the annals of geekdom. o_O

( "A symphony must be like the world. It must contain everything." )

Proust had his madeleines; I am devastated by the scent of yeast bread rising

2007-11-16T21:57:13Z

I was walking past some trees the other day and it suddenly occurred to me that I ought to make a post properly articulating, and exalting my love of bread. Perhaps some of you will appreciate it. Perhaps you might throw virtual kumquats at me for inciting hunger. This, of course, isn't at all a thorough collection of the innumerable varieties of bread out there. These are simply some of my favorite breads, and various bread products.

Without further ado...

AN ODE TO BREAD: MAKING THE WORLD SAFE FOR DEMOCRACY!

Asiago Cheese Bread

Bagels!
I support bagels. My particular favorites are Everything (as long as they don't put too many poppy seeds on) and the Cinnamon Crunch bagels at Panera. Oh, and the Asiago Cheese ones.

Rosemary Onion Focaccia Bread

Multigrain Bread.
Yes, sad as it is, we can't have artisan bread all the time, so when I buy a loaf at the store, I always go for some type of multigrain bread

Marble Rye Bread.
Also, arguably, the best episode of Seinfeld

Ciabatta Bread

Cornbread

Cinnamon Swirl Bread.
I'm also a whore for cinnamon

Banana Bread

Challah Bread

Gingerbread

Pumpkin Bread

Sourdough

Biscuits

Chicago Hard Rolls.
I'm not sure what links these to 'Chicago', that's just what they're called at Publix

Chocolate Babka.
Which also contains cinnamon!

Carrot Cake

Cranberry Orange Muffin

Crescent Rolls

English Muffin.
Best toasted with peanut butter

Kaiser Roll

Indian Naan.
Good by itself, or dipped in curry sauce

Pita Bread.
Oh, hell, you can do anything with this. From just spreading hummus on it to making all manner of stuffed pita sandwiches

Pretzel

Orange Scone

Cinnamon Rolls

Sticky Buns.
The best can be had at the Q-Mart in Quakertown, Pennsylvania

Baguette.
I may be crazy to say this, after observing all the delectables preceding this, but I can firmly say that the French baguette is my absolute favorite type of bread. It surpasses all these pastries, and other varieties of bread. I just...love it. Yes, I'm weird

Icons

2007-11-10T22:26:41Z

[25] Sarah Jane Adventures

the rest here.

I was born for this

2007-10-30T06:13:59Z

Isn't it just the neatest thing to be standing in a room, feeling a bit lonely amidst the crowd, and then you hear someone call your name, smile at you, and hurry over to engulf you in a hug?

I WILL HUG ANYONE AND ANYTHING! Even Daleks!

And in honor of the greatness that is the Hug, I present to you a picspam of some of my favorite hugs, in film and television. There are lots missing from this spam, but for the lack of screencaps.

Please, if you're so inclined, add pics of your favorite hugs. :)

So:

THE PICSPAM OF HUGS

The awkward hug.

The natural, "just for the hell of it" hug.

The "fuck yeah!" hug.

The "I'll hug anyone" hug.

The most enthusiastic "is there anything better than this?" hug.

The comfort hug.

The melancholic "we're still best friends, but life goes on" hug.

The grateful hug.

The polite hug.

The unexpected hug.

The triumphant & accomplished hug.

The reluctant hug.

The "I'm going to take care of you" hug.

The "I've missed you like hell and I'm so happy to see you" hug.

The scared & clingy hug.

The sideways "life is good" hug.

The "I wish I didn't have to go" hug.

The "you can count on me" hug.

The thankful "I'm here for you" hug.

The "you are loved" hug.

For the curious, in order, the hugs are from: Arrested Development, Firefly, Star Wars, Doctor Who (#4-7), Leon: the Professional, Curb Your Enthusiasm, Grey's Anatomy, Cool Runnings, Walk on Water (#12-14), Sarah Jane Adventures (#15 + 16), You Can Count On Me (#17 + 18)

Mood Theme

2007-10-19T22:52:41Z

Fourth Doctor & Sarah Jane Mood Theme @ my community icon journal

Doctor Who Fic

2007-10-19T17:16:10Z

title: And You'll Know When I Must Leave
author: Kristin
disclaimer: I never have, and never will, own these characters. And the world shall mourn.
fandom: doctor who [fourth doctor character study]
summary: the fourth doctor indirectly reflects on himself as he takes a newfound friend home
notes: I wanted to explore Four's psyche just a tad, so as a result, it's more about him than any other characters. I didn't want to focus on specific companions, so that's why I've got more of just an incidental character in there to help the story along. Enjoy!

"It's not enough to love," he says, a thin wisp of smoke puffing out between the slit of his lips. "You have to endure. That's the thing they never tell ya about life."

He flicks flakes of ash the color of thunder snow into the fleeting gust of wind. "Because I'll tell you: we are all alone, even if it's just for a second. Some people are luckier than others."

The Doctor wraps another strand of his scarf around his neck, surprised the chill should affect him so. He half-considers it would almost amuse him to observe himself in a mirror at the moment, bundled as he is under his numerously wrapped scarf, his black knit hat, and thick coat. He even muses his cheeks must be rosy with the cold. The man next to him is equally fortified against the chill, a cigarette dangling loosely from his lips as he busies his hands buttoning up his corduroy coat.

"That's an awfully pessimistic approach to life, Nicholas," the Doctor responds.

Nicholas Harwood shrugs. "Maybe I'm generalizing. It's not true for everyone, it's just--hell, you've got to be okay alone, you know? You've got to be, otherwise, you'll never be good for anyone else."

The Doctor has never worn a knit hat in this incarnation, and he wonders how he'd been so easily plied by the young girl who seemed wanting to mother someone, and he was apparently the easiest target.

He's becoming too sentimental, perhaps.

"And why is that, precisely?" The Doctor poses to his new friend.

Nicholas smiles a little sardonically. "Then we get to be too selfish. You start wanting people around because you need them. And that's trouble, that is."

The Doctor ruminates on this, tugging the knit hat playfully up and down, just above his brows.

"You ever needed anyone?" Nicholas asks.

Eventually, the Doctor's hands still, his breaths purposefully pronounced as he gleams some illusory satisfaction with the white billow they make, coloring the air for just a second like the last glimpse of a ghost.

But he doesn't believe in ghosts.

Because that would mean...

"Not particularly," the Doctor responds, absently.

He hasn't known this man long, and even though he's a friendly sort, the Doctor prefers not to divulge the deeper facets of his character to a person he won't know beyond this day.

But he has needed people.

He takes a truth and twists it slightly, and the words are his to use, and suddenly, the Doctor can be whatever he must be.

Nicholas Harwood folds his chin into the palm of his hand, puffing out an exaggerated breath between his lips as he stubs out the cigarette he'd been having a languid, dirty love affair with. Nicholas Harwood's breaths are more pronounced, rhythmic, and certain.

The Doctor has always been fond of benches; nothing quite like them on any other planet.

Nicholas Harwood desperately misses one person right now.

And the Doctor is almost happy that his ache for friends is a collective grief. When he begins to think too much, he considers the absence of each friend, and it nearly smothers him.

"Do you think she'll come?"

"Well, you told her to come, yes? I see no reason she wouldn't."

Nicholas laughs derisively, "We just...haven't seen each other in so long. I'm afraid she blames me for things...that happened."

"Humans have an unenviable ability to hold grudges for the most ridiculous reasons. Why waste such brief existences holding onto feelings of ill will? It only dampens the spirit and darkens the soul."

Nicholas hunches forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

"Have you ever known us to learn anything quickly?"

"True."

"You must have a lot of friends. I mean, you're...how old are you, again?"

"Age is irrelevant. What matters, of course, is the depth of my years, and the people I constitute my travels with. I've most certainly had an abundance of friends."

His hands go into his pockets then, and the Doctor leans back casually against the bench, slumping only slightly.

"So you must have to say goodbye an awful lot."

His next breath is purposeful, and lingers, because he wants to see a sign of life before he laments those gone from him.

"Yes."

Never mind that he avoids that word. The syllables against his tongue are harsh and distasteful. He's accrued untold adjectives in place of such a word, anything to keep from saying it. There is an unmatched finality in 'goodbye' that he desires never to face directly.

He outlives suns and planets and Earth fads and the melting of seas and yet he is never old enough to accept endings.

This is why he is perhaps the most selfish being in the universe.

"Do you remember all of them? Do you still think about them, or worry about them?"

He doesn't believe in ghosts.

The death of a star takes years to travel across the universe. If he loses a friend to mortality, he likes to believe he'll know of it after such a time that he would be cushioned against the blanketing frost of grief.

"I could hardly function with respectability if that were the case. No, I simply resolve to believe the best about their circumstances, and carry on with my life, just as they do."

Once, when the Doctor was considerably younger, he had a favorite toy--a portable music player that could fit in his pocket--which he accidentally dropped down a ravine. It was easier to make the trek back home across the expanse of harsh, treacherous terrain in utter silence believing that he'd never liked the thing much at all to begin with.

"Your sister is all you have, then?" The Doctor queries.

Nicholas nods. "By my own design, really. And pathetically. I don't need her, I just...miss her."

There are no endings.

Everyone he loves is immortalized by memory; moments and voices and images and phantom touches capable of being conjured even in the darkest, faintest flash of neural synthesis.

"Well, that's not at all a bad thing, is it? It seems to mean you're not one of those sad few you were philosophizing over earlier. You've got someone, haven't you?"

Nicholas shrugs. "In a manner of speaking. I'll be more confident when I see her. She might...not want anything to do with me."

"It doesn't do to be so cynical, you know. It's just possible that you influence certain events by predesignating them as abysmal."

Nicholas goes to speak, but his attention is suddenly caught by a figure walking down the slight embankment towards them. She is wearing a thick coat and a knit hat, much like the Doctor, though her scarf is significantly shorter, and in his opinion, more fashionable. He stands up, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he takes a deep breath. It is unmistakably his sister. For a brief moment, he looks to the Doctor for courage. In response, the Doctor smiles, nodding his head in assent, and crossing his arms as he watches the man close the distance between them.

The Doctor is unable to hear the words they exchange, but watches as they stand stiffly before each other, trading awkward smiles and hushed words, from the look of their brief breaths. Not a moment later, their arms go around each other, and Nicholas lifts his sister up from the ground a bit, crushing his face into the crook of her neck.

It is a wholly pure moment, near to perfection in its reaffirmation of feelings seemingly gone tepid and cold. It is the moment the Doctor occasionally wishes he might have, upon revisiting any of his friends.

It is the moment he will never have.

But he shrugs, deciding not to concern himself with that melancholy at the moment. He finds he's quite reluctant to leave this bench, having grown oddly fond of its inanimate comfort in the time they'd spent here.

The Doctor pats the smooth wood as he stands, backing away slightly to observe it. The bench is clearly old, but stalwart.

It bends forward, slightly upraised, a creature that has wearied of earth.

Like the bench, the Doctor supposes he will, some years hence, be unable to reconcile the things he's done, the place he is, the people who have lost their names to the poison of age. The bench has lost many friends.

It wants no longer to be left behind.

The Doctor strokes the top board, his thumb curving across the surface where someone's name had been carved.

"I can't take you with me," he whispers, almost laughing at the absurdity.

Then he turns, walking up the embankment towards his TARDIS. He has no plans to say goodbye to Nicholas; the man is clearly happy, and the Doctor has done what he promised to do. But a voice across the expanse calls to him.

"What about you, Doctor? Isn't there anyone you could visit? Someone you miss?"

The Doctor tugs absently at a loose thread on his scarf, his lower lip curling in contemplation.

"Well, that's the trouble, you see," he smiles softly, "I miss everyone."

fin.