They go together...

Quidnunc - One who always has to know what is going on

"Do you have a sword, Uncle Claudio?"

"Do you like to garden, Auntie Hero?"

"Mother, how do you know when the roses are going to bloom?"

"Father, what are the documents on your desk?"

"Ilaria, slow the flow of your words," Beatrice tips up her darling daughter’s chin. She swipes her thumb to remove the jus from Lari’s lip. "I’m sure your Uncle and Aunt will answer your questions in due time, little Spark." 

"She possesses the thirst for wisdom of her mother," Benedick leans to kiss his darling’s nest of auburn curls. Afterwards he glances his wife, tossing a wink with his wolfish grin. "Twas only a subject of time, given her inheritance of her mother’s beauty." 

"It shall be only months until she inherits her father’s habit of flattery," Beatrice smirks in return to her husband dearest. 

Claudio coughs in discomfort as he swipes his lips with his napkin. “Well, little one, I do have a sword.” 

"And I do like to garden, my sweetling," Hero indulges her sweet niece with a tap on her freckled nose. 

"You see, Lari, the wild roses bloom in spiral, like a ripple on the water," Beatrice also answers her daughter’s question with calm countenance. 

"And the documents on my desk are letters and documents for our estate," Benedick answers without condescension. With a smile he looks at his daughter. "Does that answer your question, Spark?"

"Yes," the girl answers without pretense, simply taking another bite of roasted chicken.

"Is there anything else you would like to know?" Hero proposes readily. The little one’s insatiable hunger for knowledge reminds her of Beatrice in their childhood. 

"I suppose," Ilaria takes on a serious countenance "Sometimes there are noises in the night I don’t know what to make of." 

"How so?" Beatrice tilts her head. 

"Well, sometimes there are sounds from the corridor of your and father’s chambers." Ilaria disregards her parents’ twain looks of alarm to look straight to her Uncle and Aunt. "They’re odd, and sometimes it sounds like they’re hurt, moaning and crying." 

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I hope Georgie doesn’t mind that I took those prompts (again).

Anagapesis - The feeling when one no longer loves someone they once did.

 Cutting Loses (Sarah/Alec)

Gymnophoria - The sensation that someone is mentally undressing you

"Hi there, Doctor," John greets breezily. 

"Hello, John," the Doctor greets as she draws the curtain behind her. John is fiddling with the ties of his hospital gown. "It’s a bit early to be in for even you, isn’t it?"

"Yeah, breaking my own record," John laughs nervously. His fingers continue to fiddle with the white string under his neck. Somehow he takes the bow it took him ten minutes to do and undoes it in two seconds. 

"Oh!—here," the Doctor jumps up to tie the gown again. Her clipboard tumbles to the ground but apparently the top bow of John’s robe is much more important to her. 

"That’s ok—cold!" John yelps as the Doctor’s icy fingers brush the top of his spine. She mutters an apology and begins tying the bow slowly enough for John to remember he’s rather under dressed. The Doctor’s movements slow considerably and he blushes up his neck. 

The Doctor does remain silent, much more occupied with looking down John’s wiry back. There are plenty of scratches and scars all along it; a map to his clumsy life story. He’s more muscled than she expected for his two bit frame, seeing his muscles contract around his flanks as he breathes… 

John grows more flustered by the second, worrying about a thousand things at once. What’s got the Doctor so transfixed? Is she looking at how skinny he is?—the bumps of his spine? Is she looking at his underwear (with the Flash lightning bolt across the arse)?! The hairs on the back of his neck are standing up. He glances to the metal cabinet, where he can make out the reflection of the Doctor checking him out intently. John shivers; he’s never been “checked out” before, let alone by a woman as…Doctor-y as…the Doctor… 

"Sorry," the Doctor mutters hurriedly as she steps away from John. She spares a flustered hand to rake through her hair, scolding herself for literally drooling over a patient. "So, um, what brings you in this morning?"

Apodyopis - The act of mentally undressing someone

The Doctor listens intently as John recounts the story of how he took a tumble off the kitchen counter while trying to retrieve a cup. It’s just like last week, when he rolled all the way down Mister Alworthy’s hill to catch a goose waddling into his garden. John means well, but has the coordination of perhaps a two-left-footed-snake-in-galoshes. 

"So, of course, bump my head right on the counter corner," John laughs as if the incident couldn’t have rendered him dead with different luck. 

"You should be more careful, John," the Doctor notes lightly, still listening but far from focusing on his words. Her chin rests in her sly fingers, tapping slightly against her cheek. Her eyes remain on his oddly muscly back. Shadows dance along his flanks, traveling down to the dimples over his adorable backside. That is one cute bum; the Doctor bites her lip.

"Doctor?" John turns and calls out to her. Her eyes are transfixed blankly, without any real desire to focus. Under the lighting of the room he can see that a pale flush is creeping up her neck. It looks like there’s something on the tip of her (delicious, totally cute) tongue. "Is everything all right?" 

"Hm?" she startles a little in her seat. She blinks, realizing she has spent the last ten minutes shamelessly licking John head to toe with her mind. She’s always had a bit of a thing for him, of course, but there are so many rules against she shouldn’t even be considering it. That being said, she has considered - and dreampt of - enough to have crossed that line long ago. 

"You look kinda…spaced out," John blinks but still smiles disarmingly. The Doctor remains flustered and he feels heat creep up the back of his neck, "earth to Spacegirl." 

"Sorry John, I guess I’m a little," the Doctor licks her lips, now wondering what his chest is like under that cotton gown, "distracted." 

"That’s all right," John shrugs, just short of twisting self-consciously. He clenches and unclenches his fists anxiously by his sides. "Should I…I can come back another time." 

"No, no, don’t be…it’s fine," the Doctor shakes her head a bit and stands. John lies himself down and she leans over with her stethoscope. Her hair, loose and flowing freely, pools on his chest like liquid fire. She clears her throat nervously, "sorry." 

"S’okay," John murmurs quietly, quite frazzled by the mounting tension in the room. 

The Doctor keeps herself quiet now, trying to focus on her work. Instead, she focuses on the sound of John’s rapid heartbeat (his pulse is always fine when it’s checked, then when she listens to his heart it’s hurried). She focuses on the feel of his chest under her fingers, and how her own heart feels like it’s traveling up into her throat. Her palms suddenly become clammy and she withdraws. 

"Doctor, are you okay?" John asks with an innocent blink at how her cheeks turn steadily pinker.

Ayurnamat - The philosophy that there is no point in worrying

"Are you comfortable?" 

"John," the Doctor calls out as he paces. 

"Maybe it’s a little cold in here." 

"John," she calls again, a little more forceful than the last time. 

"Or are you too warm?"

"John, please just come here." Finally she seems to have grabbed his attention. He comes over to her, where she lies on the jumpseat, which now reclines. "Would you please stop worrying?" 

"How can I not worry?" John sighs but lets the Doctor pull him in by the hand. Hers are soft, pale and smattered with the most adorable freckles. He loves her freckles. "Do you know how much I worried about you before?"

"Do you know how little good worrying does?" the Doctor smiles gently. She guides John to the seat next to her. "Worrying is just you thinking about things that haven’t happened-"

"Yet!" 

"At all," she puts a hand to his cheek. He’s starting to grow stubble, left unshaven from all the days of activity. "Just because you’re scared of what could happen doesn’t mean it will." 

"Three days," is all John says, and has to say. His eyes seem all the more tired from the admittance. 

"Three days of fine peace," the Doctor finishes the statement. She doesn’t have any of the panic in her that John does—far from. Instead she has a kind of serene glow to her. "I’ve been enjoying them." 

"Well, I suppose you’d have reason to," John lays his head to her stomach in fatigue. 

"He’s perfectly content, that is," the Doctor smiles and puts her hand on her own stomach, just brushing John’s hair. "I can feel his restlessness, but other than that, we’re fine."

"I just want you both safe and happy, with me," John murmurs against the Doctor’s swollen abdomen. It’s tight and hard, which she says is normal but worries him grey. 

"I know, John, but I promise it’s all right," the Doctor’s eyes are already drooping, from exhaustion or warm contentment either way. 

"You’re tired," John muses before he guesses. He immediately takes off his jumper and lays it over her. "Why don’t you have a nap, Love?" 

"If you stay here with me," the Doctor snuggles into the warmth of it. She can smell him on it, making her cheeks tinge pink. 

Cagamosis - An unhappy marriage 

Every night, she thinks, Dorothy stands on that balcony. The cool air hits her skin like a slap but she likes it. She revels in feeling something, anything, but the devoid loss of love this place forces upon her. Everywhere she turns, she finds more empty space. 

A door opens across the way. Its sound is slow, eerie, as the creaking echoes around the courtyard. The scuffing of slippers floats up outside of the complex and into the night—towards the moon and the clouds. 

Dorothy sees him. 

A beautiful man stands across the annex. He stands on his own balcony, in his slippers and his dressing gown. There are glasses on his face that catch the glare of the moonbeams. His scraggy brown hair looks unkempt, not too long but not well groomed for his beautiful, angular face either. His wife doesn’t care. 

Dorothy smiles despite herself; her husband couldn’t give less of a damn about her. He hasn’t looked at her in days, as far as she can guess. They don’t talk, let alone touch. She grows more and more isolated as the days go by. Her only solace is the time on this balcony. 

The handsome stranger smiles at her. She can see that far. It makes her smile too. He waves, if clumsily - shyly - and she blushes. She’s glad he has glasses (maybe he can’t see her pink complexion in the darkness). 

A snore erupts from Frank, shattering the serenity of the quiet. It demolishes Dorothy’s sense of peace. Her heart breaks as the thick breathing in the room reminds her of what really is. 

"Evening," the stranger calls gently. His ring catches the light, same as hers does, but both are polished from constant fidgeting, moving…near removal. His wife lies sleeping, neglectful of his feelings for as long as their marriage has lasted. He guesses that the husband of the beautiful creature across the yard knows that feeling. Why else would someone so ethereal be out in the night like he is—like this?

The echo reaches Dorothy, however faint. It seems a lot louder in her head. She can see his lips move and suddenly it’s like it’s right by her ear. Life itself surges through her and she doesn’t feel so numb anymore. She doesn’t care that she stopped wearing Frank’s coat out here to keep her warm—she can’t stand the smell of it anymore. She doesn’t care that she’s freezing because suddenly there’s a small warmth in her. It comes from a place she forgot existed. It seems to bloom directly from her heart; she thought that had stopped beating a long time ago. 

"Evening," Dorothy whispers, but the beautiful man seems to hear, or at least understand. He smiles, and her happiness survives, at least for now. She offers her own wave and his smile grows. She doesn’t know how she can see that it does, in the dark and across the way, but she can. She can see his smile plain as anything  and it’s the most beautiful thing she has ever seen. 

At the strike of midnight the spell is broken. Both parties remember the spouses lying in wait for them. The silence is now suffocating and heavy. Dorothy is reminded all too much of Frank’s disgusting cologne, permeating their sheets and his clothes (but nothing she touches). She’s reminded of how his daughters will awake in only hours, waiting to devoid her of even more love, even though she can’t resent them because they’re her girls too. She can’t resent her own children—her own babies. So, she resents herself, she resents her life, and she resents Frank. 

"Good night," she whispers. Dorothy offers one last smile before the wind picks up and slashes across her cheeks. It hurts, this time, like hail hitting her too hard. It’s painful. 

Gargalesthesia - The sensation caused by tickling

"Aw, come on!" 

The Doctor smiles as Adipose babies swarm John happily, climbing him like a great monument and swinging happily. Their sweet little squeaks chime at all different times, like choral bells. “They want to thank their rescuer, John.” 

"They’re so cute!" John laughs as one little babe in particular, spooned by his palm, wiggles for a belly tickle. John obliges and tickles the jiggly white with one finger. The Adiposian little one giggles and gurgles in response. "These are just babies, right?" 

"Yep, they’ll grow to be about as tall me," the Doctor says as she bends to kneel by them. One baby toddles over to her, with his stubby little nubs, and allows himself to be scooped up into her hand. "But they will stay in this precious little stage for quite a while." 

"That tickles!" John near giggles with delight as two Adiposians crawl up his back to play with the hairs on his neck. 

"Oh, come here, darlings," the Doctor reaches to pick them up like kittens. They respond quickly by swarming her. "You’re so loving!" 

"Of all the aliens I’ve seen I think these little marshmallows are the cutest." John looks up from the Adipose to the Doctor, whose adoring eyes are on them. They’re sparkling, like when she sees, well, pretty much anything. She has this way of looking at everything like it’s the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen. Everything is a wonder of the universe to her. 

A little Adipose draws John’s attention again, but in a very sagely way. The wee devil tickles John’s thumb with his single tooth, looking at him with knowing eyes. John feels unusually exposed under the beady black eyes. 

"You’re just the cutest little babies, yes, you are," the Doctor coos.

John smiles at the smooth, sweet, tone—like cool porcelain under the touch. She dotes on each baby equally, loving and attentive. He loves seeing her like this. Not that she’s usually a guarded person, but she’s far from unguarded. 

"John?" the Doctor turns somewhat suddenly. She can catch him, all the time, looking at her in his periphery. Yet for all her years she can’t fathom why he would be so keen to watch her of all things. She’s showing him the wonders of the universe for crying out loud! What’s got him so preoccupied with her? "John, what is it?" 

"Well, these little guys are so mushy, I find it rather ticklish," aside from tossing one of the babies in his hands like a plush, John takes on a devious grin. 

"Aw, you tender little humans," the Doctor flips her auburn hair over her shoulder. Her smirk is entirely jovial. "You’re so cute, with your smushy warmness." 

"Excuse you, Time Lady supreme, but I am not as ‘smushy’ as you think!" John declares as he strikes up a super hero pose. The Adipose babies all giggle and clap (albeit clumsily) at the display. 

"Isn’t he funny?" the Doctor giggles at the little ones.

"I am the superhero known as Earthboy!—sidekick to The Time Lady,and I shall be the defender of the galaxy!" John stands and continues in his charade, making the Adipose dance and giggle around him. Some even mimic him to the best of their stubby armed ability. 

"You’re full of it," the Doctor smirks at her Earthboy. 

"Doubters of the Eartboy shall be vanquished!" And with that John leaps at the Doctor with a playful roar. He sounds like a baby lion, pouncing on his prey. 

"No!" the Doctor laughs as John’s fingers traipse up and down her sides. He keeps close, on the attack, buries his face in her neck. Her cheeks flush from laughing. "I surrender!—I surrender to the mighty Earthboy!" 

"Victory!" John declares, making the Adipose cheer. He comes to hover above the Doctor, on all fours. He focuses in on her face, beautiful and flushed from his tickling. She looks absolutely beautiful. 

"Oooh!" the little Adipose put their stubby paw/hands to their mouths notoriously. The female ones seem to giggle a little more excitedly, tottering in place. 

She nodded and grasped at his suit lapels. Her head didn’t so much rest on his shoulder as it fell sideways. Feeling more panicked, he practically ran the rest of the way. 

Thoroughly Detoxed, part 2 (of 2). Doctor/Donna

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Gargalesthesia - The sensation caused by tickling

"Aw, come on!" 

The Doctor smiles as Adipose babies swarm John happily, climbing him like a great monument and swinging happily. Their sweet little squeaks chime at all different times, like choral bells. “They want to thank their rescuer, John.” 

"They’re so cute!" John laughs as one little babe in particular, spooned by his palm, wiggles for a belly tickle. John obliges and tickles the jiggly white with one finger. The Adiposian little one giggles and gurgles in response. "These are just babies, right?" 

"Yep, they’ll grow to be about as tall me," the Doctor says as she bends to kneel by them. One baby toddles over to her, with his stubby little nubs, and allows himself to be scooped up into her hand. "But they will stay in this precious little stage for quite a while." 

"That tickles!" John near giggles with delight as two Adiposians crawl up his back to play with the hairs on his neck. 

"Oh, come here, darlings," the Doctor reaches to pick them up like kittens. They respond quickly by swarming her. "You’re so loving!" 

"Of all the aliens I’ve seen I think these little marshmallows are the cutest." John looks up from the Adipose to the Doctor, whose adoring eyes are on them. They’re sparkling, like when she sees, well, pretty much anything. She has this way of looking at everything like it’s the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen. Everything is a wonder of the universe to her. 

A little Adipose draws John’s attention again, but in a very sagely way. The wee devil tickles John’s thumb with his single tooth, looking at him with knowing eyes. John feels unusually exposed under the beady black eyes. 

"You’re just the cutest little babies, yes, you are," the Doctor coos.

John smiles at the smooth, sweet, tone—like cool porcelain under the touch. She dotes on each baby equally, loving and attentive. He loves seeing her like this. Not that she’s usually a guarded person, but she’s far from unguarded. 

"John?" the Doctor turns somewhat suddenly. She can catch him, all the time, looking at her in his periphery. Yet for all her years she can’t fathom why he would be so keen to watch her of all things. She’s showing him the wonders of the universe for crying out loud! What’s got him so preoccupied with her? "John, what is it?" 

Here’s the thing.

I read a lot of scripts.  A lot.  From professionals to aspiring writers to complete newbies.  Features and pilots.  Specs and treatments.

And 8 times out of 10 the fan fic that I’ve read over the last, oh, 15 years is leagues better than this stuff.  It’s more inspired.  It’s more compelling.  It’s genre bending and creative and heartfelt.  It’s well-paced and intense and funny and sexy and meaningful.  It’s smart and thoughtful and good.  It’s novel-quality.  Better than, sometimes.

Rare is the script I don’t want to put down, but how often have we stayed up until 3am to get to the last chapter of a 100k fic? And it’s not even a fan fic author’s day job.  This is what they do on the side.  In their spare time.  For free.

So my point is, fan fic authors, you’re good.  You’re good writers and great storytellers.  I know it doesn’t always feel like it, especially if you’re one of the authors who’s not a BNF and doesn’t get the notes/hits that a few do.  And  because some people still view fic as “not real writing.” You guys know the shit that gets made into movies.  You’re better than that.  So be better than that.  If writing is what you think want to do, then just know you’re already doing it.   You’ve already started.

I’ve read lots of post-Detox stories. They’re all marvelous, but I don’t think I’ve encountered this scenario yet. If it has been written, I apologize (and point me to it, so I can enjoy). 

Happily Ever After 

"Sarah, I need to talk to you," Alec takes her hand and whisks her away from the commotion of the graduation party. 

Sarah feels dread spread through her. She has been fearing the time when Alec would tell her that their relationship would have to end when they parted ways. It’s always implied but she didn’t think she could handle hearing it spoken. Her heart is already breaking, thinking about not seeing him everyday, thinking of him moving on and meeting someone who’ll become Mrs. Alec Hardy: DI. Her heart is already broken because she’s already in love with him, and she only took the shadowing at a big private school because she thought she was losing him anyway. 

Alec leads them to a dark corner, away from the commotion. He spins to address her but coughs a bit. “Sarah, you…you look beautiful.” 

Sarah blushes deeply, touching her hair nervously and unconsciously running her hands down her dress. She doesn’t remember ever being this nervous in her life. “Alec, what’s going on?” 

"Okay, right, I really need to talk to you about something," he runs a hand through his hair. 

"And it really can’t wait until after?" Sarah asks with fading hope; she could at least graduate with a boyfriend, couldn’t she? 

"No, it can’t," Alec affirms solidly. When he really takes Sarah in she looks horribly anxious. "I know you took that job across coast, and I’m happy being certified anywhere…except Sandbrook." 

Sarah chokes on a laugh in the middle of his speech. 

"I looked at places close to Greybridge." 

"What?" Sarah dares to breathe. 

"I found a little apartment that we could more than afford until we both get settled. It’s close enough for you to walk, or for me to drive you on my way to the station, where I asked my certification be transferred and examined." Alec takes Sarah’s hands in his, hoping they aren’t too clammy from nervousness. "I know we never talked about…what happens after…all this." 

"Alec, you don’t have to," Sarah tries to shake her head but Alec runs his thumb over her lip, which he knows ties her tongue and gives her butterflies. 

"Sarah, I want to always look from a book and see you there. I would stay here forever if it meant I could have study dates with you everyday. I wish I could wake up every morning and see you there, with me, please." Alec looks into his favorite eyes in the whole world. "Sarah, I love you." 

"I love you, too," she whispers, unable to speak any stronger. 

"And I never want to stop loving you. I want to be this in love with you for the rest of my life, so," Alec breaks their contact. Sarah’s hands follow his movements for just a split second, assuring he’s making the right choice—taking the right chance. He bends to one knee and pulls out a little box. 

"Oh, my God," Sarah puts a hand over her mouth. Of all the ways she thought this might turn out - all her fears - she never guessed this. 

"Sarah Jane Postern," Alec begins, simultaneously more nervous and more sure of this than anything in his life. 

"Will you marry me?"

Sarah gasps, trying to hold back tears. This is the man she loves most in the entire world, and he wants to spend the rest of his life with her. He wants to live together, share a life, maybe…maybe have children. She can’t squeak out an answer so she settles on nodding her head through her tears. 

"You will?" Alec whispers in absolute elation. His heart is still racing faster than should probably be humanly possible, but it feels lighter. 

"Yes," Sarah nods and reaches out to him. In one smooth motion he’s standing before her, slipping a ring onto her finger. It’s gold, fitting her finger perfectly. 

"I wish I-I could afford something, uh, bigger," Alec stammers harriedly. He’s caught between crying in happiness and being embarrassed that he can’t afford a diamond of proper size. 

"It’s perfect!—it’s perfect," Sarah giggles against Alec’s lips, kissing him over and over. "I love it! I love you!" 

Alec picks Sarah up in his arms and spins her around, “I love you!” 

"Guys, we need to be up there!" Ellie comes rushing over. She stops at the sight, immediately looking at Sarah’s finger, clad in glittering gold ring with a simple diamond on it. Her eyes collect tears and she stares at her two best friends. "She said yes…YOU SAID YES!" 

"Of course I did!" Sarah jumps from Alec’s arms to hugging Ellie tightly.