#chitarra10

It has taken ages for me to reply because this was hidden under my buried prompts in my inbox, but here you and @juldooz go!

A Man Crashes A Wedding… - Jack Harkness finds himself at the Watson-Morstan wedding in a whole different universe, wondering what the night (and his future) might have in store for him.

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He wasn’t supposed to be here. Not here at the wedding, exactly, but here in this universe. As the Doctor had said, wibbly wobbly timey wimey and all that, but crossing universes was a thing that was not supposed to happen.

Of course, considering his awful awful luck in all things, and the fact he was going to be alive…well, forever, he should have expected it. But it was going to change the future in his home universe if it hadn’t already. He knew what awaited him, being The Face of Boe and all that, but maybe…maybe that wouldn’t happen here. New universe, new rules?

He could hope.

He didn’t know anyone at this wedding party, but he had heard it was the Watson-Morstan wedding and that meant something in his world. Apparently, John Watson and Sherlock Holmes were real live people in the flesh in this universe. Who knew? Maybe there were some things to start looking forward to in this universe after all. At least the liquor selection was top notch, he’d give them that.

“You know, if Sherlock hadn’t left, I could get a read on you.”

Nice female Irish accent. Not the slightest bit slurred, too, which was a bonus. But the fact she’d pegged him as something “other” told him he should keep his guard up. “And just why would you need a read on me?” he asked, giving her a blindingly charming smile.

“Well, I’m interested in having a rather enjoyable time after this wedding, but I hate to say, the friends of my friends are rather…uninteresting. Sherlock excepted, of course.”

“Of course,” he said.

“Did you come here with a date?” she asked.

He shook his head. “Stag. A friend of a friend, but not a friend of your friends, I don’t think.”

“Interesting,” she said with a warm smile. “So if you’re alone…would you like to have company?”

He indicated to the bartender to get two drinks, a refill of his and whatever she wanted. “Share a drink with me and we’ll find out,” he said, raising his glass to her when it was slid in front of him.

“I’ll drink to that,” she said in reply and tapping her glass against his.

couldn’t listen all the way through | not my thing | it’s okay | kinda catchy | I really like this | downloading immediately | already in my library

Okay first of all the instrumental is amazing, you know I’m a sucker for classical music so I absolutely love the strings in the first half, just beautiful. The singing is great too, it’s not over-complicated or anything, quite simple actually, but it works really well. Of course this has nothing to do with the song itself but I watched the official music video when I listened to it and the visuals were mesmerising.

One small thing about the lyrics, there is one line that says “I’d give anything to hear/You say it one more time/That the universe was made/Just to be seen by my eyes.” That was slightly unexpected to me, because I would have thought that it’s a much more beautiful, much more wondrous thing that we exist despite how rare our existence is (like it says in the song [although you could argue that statistically the chances of life in the universe isn’t a rare occurrence but we won’t go into that]) and despite the fact that the universe isn’t made for us. To quote Richard Dawkins, “[a]fter sleeping through a hundred million centuries we have finally opened our eyes on a sumptuous planet, sparkling with color, bountiful with life. Within decades we must close our eyes again.” That our small, insignificant, fleeting lives exist in the midst of the apathy of the universe is beautiful in itself.

CLICKY HERE!

You probably thought I forgot these, didn’t you? Nope! I’m going to do a drabble collection of crossovers...well, whenever I can get to a Starbucks and get on AO3 because it’s still blocked on the library computers. But here you go, hun!

--

Mundane Evening Activities

He didn't know what to make of her. Him. Them. Them in the singular was probably the best, for he knew the Time Lords had the ability to swap genders with each regeneration, and this woman before him had once been the feared man called "The Master," who had caused more trouble than his father at his worst.

Troublesome, and yet intriguing.

He had to admit Missy was a far lovelier sight to lay eyes on than the other incarnations, and he knew Missy would use that to an advantage. He'd been used before for other people's advantage, and used others for his. Games of trickery came second nature to him, after all. But there was...reluctance. Missy might be of the Time Lord lineage but they were lower than a God, and that was what he was.

Mustn't forget that. Mustn't get distracted.

He leaned forward, arms clasped on the table. "Tell me, Missy. What do you want from me?"

The smile that spread on Missy's lips was beguiling, intriguing. Interesting. It had been far too long since he had been interested. "Oh, we've got plenty of time for that, Loki. But first...shall we take a walk?"

"A walk," he said.

Missy nodded. "A walk."

"Very well," he said, and her smile increased, but not in warmth, just in size.

Interesting indeed.

I have heard of it, but I do not know what is in it aside from some form of meatballs? But yes, it’s out here in California. I mean, we have a Little Italy in downtown San Diego (which is where I heard of a recipe for it coming from), so we do have a decent Italian population in places.

(I almost gave this title to my Sherlolly mythology story I just posted last night, FYI...)

Sherlock has lived in near isolation his entire life, with the exception of household staff, his siblings and his parents. They say he is ill, that if he goes out into the world he will die, but he feels fine. He feels strong.

Then one day a new person comes into the household, a man named John Watson, who tells him stories of the outside world. He piques a teenage Sherlock’s fascination, much to the elder Holmes’s dismay, and he is sent away, but not before John gives him a gift: a card he says will get him almost anything and take him almost anywhere.

After a particularly heated argument with his parents five years later, he leaves his home with nothing except a bag of clothing, a little food and the magic card. Once out, he goes to look for his friend John and discovers many interesting things along the way.

But his parents were right: the outside world is out to kill him...but not in the way he expects. Because Sherlock is special.

He just doesn’t know it yet.

Imperfection - All Molly wants is a few things in life: her confidence back, the man she wanted all along, and happiness. When she decides to take her chance and it all goes horribly wrong and a man says he can make her dreams come true, she decides to accept his help for the chance at having it all. But she learns the hard way to be careful what you wish for... (Sherlock/Molly & Lestrade, PG)

This is absolutely one of my favorite commissions I’ve ever gotten, TBH. I loved writing it once I got past my block and it just...the music and the idea meshed so well and it just turned out so amazingly. Thank you for asking me to write this!

REBLOG IF YOU’RE A FANFIC WRITER AND YOU WANNA KNOW WHAT YOUR FOLLOWERS’ FAVORITE STORY OF YOURS IS ❤

Even with the angst (sorry!) I had way more fun with this than I should have. I’ve missed writing River...

Bitter And Sweet (An “In So Few Words” Story) -The Doctor has thoughts while River gets ready for a costume party.

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“How have you not managed to fatten up an ounce in over nine years?”

The Doctor grinned as he heard River’s voice from inside the massive closet the TARDIS had, and he leaned against the edge of the doorway, staring in appreciatively at River trying to squeeze into his coat. She had done a fairly good job of copying the rest of his look, but the coat was just not going to get any bigger to fit her more muscular arms. “Time Lord metabolism.”

“I’m part Time Lord and I don’t have that metabolism,” she said in a huff. She sighed and pulled the coat off, tossing it on the floor. “It’s unfair.”

“Many things are unfair, like your treatment of my coat,” he said, coming in to pick it up. “Why the impersonation?”

“Costume party,” River said. “I was thinking we could dress as each other. There are loads of my outfits I think you’d look smashing in.” She threw him a cheeky look in the mirror, knowing he could see it.

“Fancy dress or anything goes?” he asked. “There was an outfit at Stonehenge I had a fondness for.”

“Oh, good choice,” she said with an approving nod. “As long as you didn’t suggest a spacesuit of any sort, I’d like anything of mine you wore, to be honest.”

A pang run through him as his encounter with her two regenerations past ran through his mind. But time. They still had time, as it had only been nine years. More time than less, and he was thankful for that. “You know I would never suggest a space suit,” he said, moving over and pressing a kiss in her hair. He wasn’t always affectionate, but now, right now, he needed to be. He needed River close so he could forget that after this night was over, the next time he would see her would be the last time he saw her.

“Oh, don’t you go distracting me,” she said, and then she caught the look on his face and frowned. “Darling?”

“Nothing,” he said, moving to rest his chin on her shoulder. “You know, the black dress and red rumps would also look good on me.”

River laughed. “You can’t pull that off, my love. You don’t have curves in those places.”

“And yet you still love me?” he asked.

“More than anyone else,” she replied. “Even my other husbands and wives.”

“Competition,” he grumbled.

“Mmm, unless one of them is another Time Lord, you don’t have any, not anymore,” she said with an impish smile. “You’re the one who has my heart. You always have.”

“So you’re giving up your serial marriage habit?” he asked, sliding his arms around her.

“For you? Yes,” she said. “But don’t change on me again. You’re dashing while you’re young, but you’re magnificent as a dapper older gent.”

“What if I became a woman?” he asked.

“Well, the sharing clothes thing would be easier,” she said, pursing her lips. “As long as you aren’t a ginger. Scottish I can handle. Ginger...I’m as close as either of us should get.”

“But you aren’t a ginger,” he said.

“My point exactly.” She turned in his arms and gave him a quick peck. “You know, I could always go as an earlier regeneration. Where is that bloody mile-long scarf?” She pulled away and bounded deeper into the closet, clothes occasionally being tossed over her shoulder if they interfered with her view of the clothing hanging up. He watched with a bittersweet smile. His River, the woman he knew he would love for the ages, who had no idea they had so little time left. And he wouldn’t tell her.