I don't even remember when I did this, but I found it while cleaning out some folders on the compy this morning. It's odd that I'd forget to put it up, because it's kinda awesome.
He didn't want it at first, a third party to their footloose duo. But the idea grew on him quickly, and it is hard to imagine that their three had ever been two.
Two points make a line, but three points make a shape, a triangle. Balance is simpler with a third weight to slide as needed. A tricycle is easier to ride than a bicycle; it's more stable. This life is better with two, but it becomes fantastic with three.
He feels his hearts break a little when things change and he can't face it. I'm so sorry, Jack.
She picks up the pieces and tries not to mourn the Captain shaped hole in the TARDIS. He's not dead, he's just gone.
It feels selfish to want him back, a piece of something she can understand when everything else is shifting. She cannot call it normal; their trio was never that.
She still takes the Doctor's hand, but when she reaches out to her other side, her palm is empty and cold. Two coats, leather and grey wool, take a place
Something to Believe InSomething to Believe In
To one who has faith, no explanation is necessary. To one without faith, no explanation is possible.
- St. Thomas Aquinas
The Doctor stood before the reliquary, drinking in the details of the icons and statues. Everything was gilded and frilled, but crumbling as well in the way that well-loved objects often became, paint chipped and worn away by the beseeching hands of supplicants over the years. A crucifix in bronze, a statue of a female saint (he thought it was meant to be Mary Magdalene, but it was so stylized he could hardly tell), the mummified finger of some obscure local saint--all very ordinary for this tiny church in the mountains of Andalucia, and fascinating in the way that human relics of faith so often were.
Rose sat behind him on a pew, gazing thoughtfully into the flame of one of the votives and chewing her lip, brow furrowed. She had asked to come here--well, not here specifically (she had never been to Spain before, muc
A Distinct Lack of PantsA Distinct Lack of Pants
Rose really shouldnt have been surprised that she and the Doctor were once again running for their lives, an angry Reggisian mob seconds behind them. It was second nature now, between his forgetting local customs and her inability to keep quiet when she felt something was wrong. For them, causing a scandal was as easy as breathing.
Then again, the circumstances were a bit surprising in and of themselves this time around. The Baroness in charge of the local peasantry had taken a fancy to the Doctor, and Rose was the one having a jealous snit (a complete role reversal for them, and one that Rose was sure she would never live downexperiences with a certain French tart aside). Of course, expressing said jealous snit by giving the Baroness a patented Tyler Slap after she started getting touchy-feely probably wasnt the best idea, especially seeing as it lead to their usual scenario of running for their lives, angry mob and all.
Rose dropped t
Open for BusinessOpen for Business
The Doctor raised a skeptical eyebrow at Jack as the former conman strutted into the console room, making his way towards the TARDIS doors. Youre not going out in that, are you?
Jack fingered his shirt as he looked down at his outfitteal silk shirt, left open to his navel, tucked into a pair of leather pants, with the legs tucked into a pair of black boots that hit him mid-calf. Something wrong with my outfit, Doc?
Jack saw a muscle twitch in the Doctors jaw at the nickname, but the expected correction didnt come. Bit obvious, isnt it?
Rose walked into the room then, gossip magazine tucked under one arm. Whats obvious?
Jacks current choice of attire.
Rose gave Jack a visual once over, and he shifted his stance to pose for maximum effect. Instead of swooning, though, Rose just wrinkled her nose at him. It is a bit flash
Flash is what I do
Do Re Mi on dALots of fractalists, they say, is leavin' dA every day,
Beatin' the hot old dusty way out to find new galleries.
'Cross the internet they roll, tryin' to get out of that ol' rip hole,
They think they're creatin' a piece of art, and they'll be collectin' royalties.
Cause, the admins at the dA help desk say,
"Fractal art rips don't count, go away."
Oh, if you got the parameter file, on dA, you ain't got the copyright,
Why, you better go back to your beautiful Mesart, VoodooChilli, ArtQ, Foundmyself, Renderosity.
deviantArt is a garden of Eden, a paradise to post in or to see;
But believe it or not, you won't find it so hot
When rippers take your fractals and run free.
You want to make you a Julia spiral arm, that can't deal nobody harm,
Or render a Gnarly fractal that looks like a sea anemone.
Don't share the parameters near and far, you better save them right where they are,
Better take a little advice from me.
'Cause I look through the dA news posts every day
And the headlines on