For every âš I get I will show a sample of a muse I used to play but donât anymore. Or send a âť for a muse I would like to play, but havenât yet!
I played an eleventh doctor once upon a blue moon. Â I miss him terribly.
âRiver!â The Doctor grinned as he danced around the console of the TARDIS.  Oh this was his third favorite holiday of all; the first being Christmas, which he always had a list for, and the second being New Years.  The idea of new beginnings was always a fresh one for the doctor.  But this holidayâŚ.this was a favorite because it was about the ghosts of the past and the idea that they could cross the threshold between the living and the dead to visit their loved ones.  The Spanish called it El Dia de los Muertos, which technically wasnât just halloween, like the Americanâs assumed.  âHope you have your dancing shoes on, and a mask.  Or something.  Not that you necessarily need one.  Youâre frightening enough as it.  OI donât give me that look, youâre intimidating.  I love it.â He shrugged, laughing as he flinched away from the curly headed bombshell that occupied his console room.  âI have a dress for you, just there..â He nodded his head over his shoulder towards the dry cleaner bag hanging over the metal handrail, âand I have my own costume, but Iâm going to change later.  We have just one small stop to make before we head out.â Â
The Doctorâs voice trailed off for a moment as he wiggled a few toggle switches, and pulled on a lever. Â He didnât say much for the rest of the relatively short trip, and as the TARDIS came to a halt, he nudged a box from just underneath the TARDIS, picking it up without a word. Â He didnât care if River followed, heâd like it if she did, because he should never be alone. The Doctor nudged the door open slowly, letting the inky black night swallow him whole as he trotted out. Â
There was a reason why he loved The Day of the DeadâŚit was the night in which the loved ones long since could could reconnect with their families and friends.  It was as old as the mayans and older still, and heâd seen it so many times, so many celebrations.  Traditionally, one left the favorite food and items of the deceased, but the Doctor wasnât always about tradition.
It didnât take him long to find the slab of granite, he knew its location by muscle memory.  âAmy.  Rory.â his words were visible on a gray wisp in the cold of late October as he crouched down into the damp ground, running his hand along the cold stone, and staring at it for a moment.  He didnât try to hide the tears that welled behind his mossy brown eyes, his face contorting as he tried to contain himself for a moment.  âIt isâŚ.midnight.  On El Dia De Los Muertos.  Bit of a stretch I knowâŚâ He grinned to himself.  Amy would have smacked him by now, and the hit would have smarted good against the backside of his head.  âI haveâŚfish fingersâŚâ he murmured, pulling out the small ziploc bag, setting it on the cool grass, âAndâŚcustard.â He laughed, to himself, a tear running down his cheek in spite of his grin.  Setting the cardboard container of custard down on the ground next to the baggie of fish fingers, he leaned back on his heels, and looked down in the box.  Leaning forward, he set a couple of tea light candles on top of the stone and lit them (and successfully burning his fingers with the match), âTonightâs the night.  Hopefully you can follow the trail back to the TARDISâŚ.I have sugar skulls! And those M&Mâs you like so much Rory.â  He smiled for a moment, and rocked forward to his toes, kissing the stone as he stood, another tear streaking down his face slowly as he tucked his hands into his pockets for warmth, gazing up as River exited the TARDIS, and eased her way towards him.  When she neared, he simply leaned into her, pressing his lips to her temple and closed his eyes.
The Doctor was dreamer of improbable dreams, but even he knew this one was impossible
