Wow, I Feel Normal...

I really feel normal.

This is going to come around and do something bad to me. I can feel it. The impending doom...

Ah, I should tell myself to stop being so bloody negative. The sun isn't shining but my ibuprofen, God bless it, is removing most if not all of my aches. Joyous!

Things are looking up today. Gotta finish homework for tomorrow, watch some Doctor Who (always a plus), and what else? Oh, have to call Marshfield today...

Besides that, it looks like rain here. Again. So I can't go outside and enjoy the sunshine, because there isn't any.

Ah, I've got to go write down that new fic I had an idea for, so TA!

Bec

Update: My desktop keyboard being partially out of commission apparently doesn't stop me from getting fic posted. New one up today. If you've been watching Doctor Who the last two weeks, things have gotten interesting between him and another recently introduced character (I have no restraint, so I'm on the UK schedule, which is two weeks ahead of the US one).

I've been trying to write this fic for three days. I am unable to get the link to the story to actually work, so HERE IT IS. It's not long...enjoy. They aren't bonded yet but I assume that this is what their relationship would be like.

She accepted (mostly) his inability to shut his face when faced with imminent alien attack.

He accepted (nearly) that she often knew what was coming for him before he saw it coming and he was only mildly offended that she never bothered to tell him to duck.

She didn’t always hang up her shirts.

He didn’t wear socks.

She knew he slept with his sonic screwdriver.

He was sure she had a stuffed King Tut somewhere in his TARDIS.

He hated pears.

She hated bananas.

She drove him crazy with her questions.

He drove her mad with his answers.

Their first kiss happened over a fight amid the history books in the TARDIS library. She was shouting at him over something that had happened in the 43rd century that he was sure he had been involved in and actually had averted said disaster occurring. Him and his ego had to let her know this, of course.

She had gotten to the point where she was seeing red, threatening to smack him if he didn’t wipe that manic “I kissed the Universe and made it cry,” grin off his face.

But instead of tossing her out to the mercies of the Vortex he had run her up against the bookshelves and kissed her, hard.

Later he said it was because she was beautiful. She thought he was just trying to prove his point even more than he already had.

He blew up a toaster and blamed it on his ship. She let out a most unladylike guffaw at the sight of his singed and blackened face and told him to take his pretty self to the medbay and fix his own damn burns.

She dug holes in the dirt, labeled bits of pottery with meticulous care. He let her get on with it, laughed at her, and then with a smug and satisfied grin, offered to take her back and let her meet the person who had made the bowl she’d just picked, piece by piece, out of the ground.

He was too arrogant (she humbled him quite often.)

She was too brave (he made her afraid sometimes.)

When he bonded with her, he swore to love her to the end of her days. She didn’t know he knew where that end was.

She swore to love him to the end of his-if she could ever find them.