#oneshiningmxment

omg that was tragic...

♙: to cook Christmas dinner together

A loud clanging could be heard from below the sink as Hayley searched the cupboard for the right pots and pans. God, she needed to go and buy some new ones - she'd probably had the same pans for about seven years. And then a bang as the redhead whacked her head.

"Ow! FFFuck!" When she heard the door to the kitchen open, Hayley emerged from under the sink, rubbing her head. Oh, thank God! It was Donna. Donna, who -- to be honest -- wouldn't be surprised by how unorganised Hayley's plan of Christmas dinner was. It always was that way with cooking meals.

Or as the saying goes. A butterfly does not see its own beauty, but everyone can see it.

Send Me A ‘✉’ For Five Times My Muse Didn’t Text Yours, And One Time They Did

[Not sent] Donnaaaaaa

[Not sent] When are you coming back?

[Not sent] I'm starting not to feel my legs

[Not sent] Time Lords aren't built to hide in an old wardrobe for long periods of time, you know. Is the prioress gone yet?

[Not sent] Is that you? I hear someone coming

oneshiningmxment

                                melancholy. it bore down on him.                                                                                                                         like atlas, he held the weight of the world                                                                                  on his shoulders. like hades, he did feel                                                                                       cheated by fate. a swarm of emotions                                                                                           clouded his eyes, centuries of age and                                                                                         loneliness glistening in the tear lurking                                                                                         under the apex of his left eye. it pressed                                                                                       against the skin of his lower lid, and he                                                                                         could feel it fighting his control.

                                      loneliness. it encompassed him. and he                                                                                                           could not deny that things were                                                                                                     harder than they once were. harder                                                                                               than they ever were before. and he                                                                                               had been forced to do things...very hard                                                                                       things...and they hurt. they had come back                                                                                   full circle, and not even the near-impenetrable                                                                            barriers of his beloved TARDIS could ever                                                                                   spare him from the slings and arrows of                                                                                       outrageous fortune.

                                                                              the doctor sat there midst the machinery, their                                                                             steady prowess foiling the broken gears of his                                                                             inner turmoil. for the fate of donna noble had                                                                                 shattered him. and it wasn't just the longing for company.                                                           it was his coldness that he had shown prior to his actions.                                                         shutting down every ounce of sympathy and remorse                                                                 as he looked into her tear-enblazoned irises with the                                                                   empty gaze of his own. the feel of her warm skin,                                                                       growing warmer to the touch as his fingers connected                                                                 with the skin of her temples. the cries of protest that                                                                 echoed echoed echoed even know in the silence, each                                                               word more tortuous than the last as they whispered to                                                                 him through a veiled mind.

                              for awhile he had tried to forget. to fill the hole in his hearts                                                         with the wonders of the universe. but as time passed                                                               (he had no idea how much; he refused to keep count) the                                                           doctor began to go through the same motions.                                                                              -----flip, turn, sideways, grab on, turn up collar,                                                                                  brush off jacket, slide on glasses.

                       the gravity of his situation threatened to break him;                                                                    his weary hands purposeless as they held up the                                                                        weight of the sky.

                                  somethin' in the way she moves...

                             he's selfish in his desires. but here the weight of the                                                                    sky is lifted ever so slightly, as his hands are imbued                                                                with a slight sense of renewed purpose. damned that                                                                he may break his penance, but a few words--just a few                                                              words. that's all. a final glimpse and a few words.                                                                        one final visit. and he's gone from her life forever.                                                                        not even a few, just the one word that he never got to say.

                                   goodbye

                                         risen to his feet now, he lolls around the console,                                                                        imprisoned in a limbo of happiness and grief and                                                                      anxiety. in the back of his mind he knows that it's selfish.                                                          he doesn't deserve a peace of mind after what he did.                                                                  but he wants it. and the universe be bloody well better                                                                off with someone else if he can't seal the finality of a                                                                  lost farewell. he owes her that much.

                               shaken with a mix of emotions--some without                                                                              classification---he's standing on the doorstep in his                                                                    suit and coat, the time beforehand having faded into                                                                    a blur, as he's unsure what transpired after he decided.                                                              he waits eagerly on that doorstep, and the folds of the                                                                  trench coat bend to the contours of his arms as he                                                                      reaches out to knock.

                       yet now that he's here, he realizes that there's a                                                                          tentativeness. it fumbles with the certainty(???)                                                                          of his decision earlier. and he realizes that                                                                                                  he just can't.

                             after a multitude of time has passed,                                                                                            and his arm has been outstretched towards the                                                                            door, he finally commands himself to turn around--

"Are you even remotely aware of what the words- 'Do not enter' mean?"

   A snarl curls her nose as she snaps, harsh and almost bone cutting at the monkey.