Erin Ptah (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ptahrrific) wrote2008-12-24 07:28 pm
ptahrrific) wrote2008-12-24 07:28 pm
Entry tags:
Fake News/Doctor Who: A Truthy TARDIS Crew's Christmas, part 5
Title: A Truthy TARDIS Crew's Christmas (5/5)
Rating: PG
Series: The Colbert Report, Doctor Who
Spoilers: Anything DW/TW/SJA is fair game.
Summary: In which cocoa is made, cookies are eaten, songs are sung, secrets are revealed, tensions explode, and decisions are reached.
The rest of my evening is booked, so you're getting this chapter early. I am indebted tostellar_dust for tearing the serial apart and making me put it together right. Table of contents, and footnotes, as ever, here.
A Truthy TARDIS Crew's Christmas
Part Five
13 Bannerman Road: December 24.
"It's nothing important," said Stephen dismissively. "The Wørd thinks you're jealous."
"How did a sarcastic psychic alien figure that out before you did?"
Slow realization dawned on Stephen's face. "But you can't possibly be jealous of Jack," he protested. "Just because he's handsome, charming, strong, tall, a secret agent, eternally young, has had hundreds of girlfriends . . . you never let stuff like that get to you!"
Jon winced. "Not until just now, no."
"Then what's the problem?"
"Everything else!" exclaimed Jon. "The way you jump to do anything he suggests, the way you hang all over him, the way you—you—I heard you two last night, okay?"
At that, Stephen shifted uneasily. "What did you hear?"
Jon half shrugged. "Heard you say you love him."
Stephen didn't seem quite sure what to do with his hands. They rose as if to clasp Jon's shoulders, reached halfway out, paused, drew back, and ended up clutching at the air.
"Of course I love him," he said desperately. "Of course I do. He's like my brother. That's all it is. It's not . . . you can't think . . . please don't look so forlorn, Jon, I can't take it! What's wrong?"
"I don't understand what you want from me!" burst out Jon.
Now Stephen looked even more lost.
Jon took a deep breath. "It's not like I'm an insecure guy, here," he began shakily. "I don't need to be reassured every thirty seconds. You only said you loved me that one time, but you've never been very demonstrative about non-anger-based emotions, so I figured, hey, that's just how you are, right?"
This was answered with a very small nod.
"But now it turns out that, not only are you willing to say it, you're capable of having heart-to-heart conversations while cuddling in front of a fireplace! No, I don't think you're sleeping with him, but our relationship isn't just about sex! Is it? I don't even know. For more than a year I thought you hated my guts, when it turns out you were supposedly in love with my guts the whole time but couldn't say anything because it would snarl up the space-time continuum, so clearly I'm not a reliable judge of what you're thinking!"
Stephen's voice was barely above a whisper. "Jon, I proposed."
"In the heat of the moment! After the first sex you'd had in eighteen months! And now that you've had a chance to cool down, it turns out you don't want me sitting next to you when there are sixteen-year-olds in the room! Do you actually want this? Or—did you see some kind of future in which we're together, and now you feel obligated to make it happen?"
"You think—?"
"I don't know what to think anymore, Stephen!"
They both stopped short as the doorknob in the front hall rattled.
⇔
Jack, Sarah Jane, Luke, and Maria were peeling themselves out of their winter layers, shaking snow out of the folds on their coats onto the front rug, when Stephen stalked down the hall with Jon in tow.
He let go of Jon's sleeve as he came to a halt, so that the other man stumbled forward a few more steps. "I have something to say!"
When the general shuffle had died down, and Stephen was satisfied that all eyes were on him, he turned to Jon.
⇔
The whole tale (or rather, an edited-for-content version, to Jack's mild disappointment) came out later that evening.
Its audience gathered in the attic, where it turned out Mr. Smith could display the Wørd's graphic on his screen. Jack had never made the connection between the television segment and the reason Stephen made psychic paper go wonky, but the papilløn was far from the most incomprehensible thing he had ever met. Between her incisive insights and snarky puns, he was immediately charmed.
Jon stepped in to add his perspective at times, and Sarah Jane made a few comments, but this was really Stephen's story to tell.
It was a good one, too. Jack was hooked, as were the kids: Luke taking it all in with his usual open curiosity (and laughing at most of the Wørd's comments, though some of them went over his head), and Maria listening intently, with a few tight-lipped smiles.
Not until Stephen had finished did Maria break her silence. "Do you think it was fair?" she asked, addressing Jon. "That he had to wait almost two years for you, I mean."
Stephen looked sharply at her. The Wørd went tactfully blank. Subtly, so that only Jack's military training let him pick it up at all, Sarah Jane tensed.
Fortunately, Jon was no fool. When he spoke, every word was chosen with care.
"I think," he said slowly, "that it was necessary. And maybe it wasn't fair, and it would have been completely understandable if he had given up on me halfway through." His hand moved to Stephen's knee. "But I consider myself very, very lucky that he didn't."
(Okay, Jack definitely liked this man.)
Stephen was looking directly at Maria now, sizing her up with a gaze so intense that Jack could actually see her trying not to flinch. There was no way this would end well. He hadn't been comfortable with the idea that morning, just out-shouted by Sarah Jane . . . .
"It's hard," he said. "Even when you know they're worth it. It tests you, waiting that long for someone."
Maria nodded warily.
"But if you can do it—if you're strong enough to handle it—then you're ready to deal with whatever happens next."
At this, Maria smiled, sweet and bright. "I understand."
Jack was impressed. Sarah Jane looked relieved. And Luke . . . well, Luke hadn't batted an eyelash through the whole thing, as though he had expected nothing less. Maybe he was savvier than he generally got credit for.
"Sarah Jane?" broke in the genteel voice of the computer. "If I Might Make A Suggestion?"
Sarah Jane shook herself. "Go ahead, Mr. Smith."
"The Roads Will Not Be Cleared Tonight. If You Plan To Attend Midnight Mass By Walking, It Would Be Prudent To Leave Soon."
"Ooh, thanks for the warning." Stephen got to his feet. "Uh, I know you guys are all godless heathens of some sort or another, but if you want to come along . . . ."
Even Heathens Appreciate A Good Sing-Along, quipped the Wørd, as the entire group got to its feet.
⇔
"You don't believe all of it, though, right?" asked Maria as they trudged along half-shoveled sidewalks, basking in the glow of houses bedecked with colored lights. "I mean, did you ever go to 33 A.D. to check if anyone really got crucified and came back to life?"
"Why is that so hard to believe?" demanded Stephen. "You already know someone who doesn't stay dead."
Jon laughed. "There's an idea. Hey, Jack, ever been to first-century Jerusalem?"
"Nope. Sorry to burst your bubble."
"But you're immortal," pointed out Luke, a speckling of miniature rainbows from the nearest house lighting up his serious-as-ever expression. "And you know a time traveler. So maybe it just hasn't happened for you yet."
"Nonsense," said Jack, grinning at the absurdity of the idea. "It's impossible."
"Why?"
"Because . . . ."
He frowned. Why was it impossible?
"I mean, come on, there's no way I . . . . Don't look at me like that, Stephen! I'm not the foundation of your religion. Period. Let's talk about something else, okay?"
The conversation fell into silence.
"Oh!" exclaimed Jon suddenly. "We've been meaning to ask you something. Do you know of any species that looks like a six-foot-tall human head?"
"A couple, yeah," said Jack, remembering one in particular. "Why do you ask?"
"Well, uh, we kind of have one. You might have seen him on the show. The Giant Head of Brian Williams?"
Oh. That couldn't be who Jack was thinking of, then.
Unless . . .
Names get corrupted over time, after all. It was currently known as the Giant Head of BW . . . and when you had lived for hundreds of thousands of years, your skin was bound to get a little leathery . . . .
"Jack?" asked Stephen. "Do you have any ideas?"
"I just might," said Jack. "Have any of you ever heard of the Face of Boe?"
⇔
⇔
December 25, 2009.
The floor was strewn with boxes, ribbons, wrapping paper, bits of plastic packaging, and the remains of exploded crackers. Stephen had been dubious when he saw the first colored paper crown, but ten minutes later everyone else was wearing them, and he refused to be left out.
The initial frenzy of gift-opening, fueled by the sugar rush from a fresh batch of cookies, had settled into a mood of lazy contentment. Luke was thoughtfully dismantling the artifact that Jack had brought him from Torchwood HQ. Sarah Jane watched with pride over a cup of eggnog, sprinkled with plenty of nutmeg. Jon was absorbed in the little silver-grey Verron puzzle box he had gotten from Stephen; Maria had offered to show him how it opened, but he was determined to work it out on his own.
After all the fuss Stephen had made looking for it, Jon's present to him had turned out to be nothing more than a couple of snappy silk ties. But now, sitting on the floor with (most of) his favorite people in the universe around him, he found to his surprise that it didn't bother him at all.
In fact, his whole body seemed to be suffused with a warm glow. One that had nothing to do with the rum he had added to his eggnog.
Nothing Like Christmas With The Family, said the Wørd appreciatively.
Well, no. That would involve a lot more shouting.
I Don't Mean Your Relatives. I Mean Your Family.
Stephen was still trying to figure this out when his thoughts were interrupted by a mechanical whirr. K-9 had made his way up to the edge of the circle of people, only to be stymied by the mess on the floor.
"Here, I'll clear a path," offered Stephen, crawling over and shoving a miniature hill of packing peanuts out of K-9's way.
"No need, Mas-ter Ste-phen," announced the dog. "I am car-ry-ing some-thing for you."
Stephen couldn't think what it would be. Still, no matter how satisfied he was with the Christmas spirit alone, he was never one to turn down free stuff. When the panel in K-9's side slid open, he reached eagerly inside. "Good dog!"
K-9 wiggled his ears modestly.
The box wasn't much. Wrapped in plain green paper, it was just the right size to fit neatly in Stephen's palm. There was no card, and the little square of the wrapping paper folded over and taped to the top had no names in it, only a single printed sentence:
I'm ready if you are.
Stephen's heart began to pound.
OMG, added the Wørd, pithy as always.
Tearing the rest of the paper off, Stephen flipped open the velvet box inside, then whipped his head up to look at Jon. "You—but—the ties—?"
"Emergency backup," stammered Jon. "In case I decided not to . . . but, well, I did . . . so what do you . . . ?"
Snapping the lid shut over the matched set of gold bands, Stephen launched himself across the room and into Jon's arms. "What do you think, you idiot? Yes! I am! I do!"
Breaking into a grin, Jon pulled him close, kissing his cheeks, laughing; and Stephen laughed right back, leaning against Jon, nuzzling his neck, murmuring I do and I love you over and over into his ears, and not caring in the least whether anyone was watching.
Or so he thought, until he happened to look up and find, to his disappointment, that nobody was watching.
"What's everybody looking at?"
"Thought I heard—" began Jack, then broke off at the clomp of feet coming down the stairs.
Moments later, the door swung open. "Hello, everyone! Sorry I'm late, got tied up in a sort of invasion thing up by the North Pole, but that's all sorted now—ah, I see you got the snow! Should be perfectly safe, it'll react like normal water in most situations, as long as you don't put it in the microwave. How is everyone? Oh!" His grin fell as his eyes landed on Stephen, still wrapped around Jon. "I've missed the big moment, haven't I?"
Stephen, for his part, was smiling so widely his face was starting to hurt. "We could always act it out again, if you wanted."
"No, no, that's all right," said the Doctor, his spirits bouncing back as quickly as they had fallen. "But, please, tell me you saved me one of those hats!"
Rating: PG
Series: The Colbert Report, Doctor Who
Spoilers: Anything DW/TW/SJA is fair game.
Summary: In which cocoa is made, cookies are eaten, songs are sung, secrets are revealed, tensions explode, and decisions are reached.
The rest of my evening is booked, so you're getting this chapter early. I am indebted to
stellar_dust for tearing the serial apart and making me put it together right. Table of contents, and footnotes, as ever, here.A Truthy TARDIS Crew's Christmas
Part Five
13 Bannerman Road: December 24.
"It's nothing important," said Stephen dismissively. "The Wørd thinks you're jealous."
"How did a sarcastic psychic alien figure that out before you did?"
Slow realization dawned on Stephen's face. "But you can't possibly be jealous of Jack," he protested. "Just because he's handsome, charming, strong, tall, a secret agent, eternally young, has had hundreds of girlfriends . . . you never let stuff like that get to you!"
Jon winced. "Not until just now, no."
"Then what's the problem?"
"Everything else!" exclaimed Jon. "The way you jump to do anything he suggests, the way you hang all over him, the way you—you—I heard you two last night, okay?"
At that, Stephen shifted uneasily. "What did you hear?"
Jon half shrugged. "Heard you say you love him."
Stephen didn't seem quite sure what to do with his hands. They rose as if to clasp Jon's shoulders, reached halfway out, paused, drew back, and ended up clutching at the air.
"Of course I love him," he said desperately. "Of course I do. He's like my brother. That's all it is. It's not . . . you can't think . . . please don't look so forlorn, Jon, I can't take it! What's wrong?"
"I don't understand what you want from me!" burst out Jon.
Now Stephen looked even more lost.
Jon took a deep breath. "It's not like I'm an insecure guy, here," he began shakily. "I don't need to be reassured every thirty seconds. You only said you loved me that one time, but you've never been very demonstrative about non-anger-based emotions, so I figured, hey, that's just how you are, right?"
This was answered with a very small nod.
"But now it turns out that, not only are you willing to say it, you're capable of having heart-to-heart conversations while cuddling in front of a fireplace! No, I don't think you're sleeping with him, but our relationship isn't just about sex! Is it? I don't even know. For more than a year I thought you hated my guts, when it turns out you were supposedly in love with my guts the whole time but couldn't say anything because it would snarl up the space-time continuum, so clearly I'm not a reliable judge of what you're thinking!"
Stephen's voice was barely above a whisper. "Jon, I proposed."
"In the heat of the moment! After the first sex you'd had in eighteen months! And now that you've had a chance to cool down, it turns out you don't want me sitting next to you when there are sixteen-year-olds in the room! Do you actually want this? Or—did you see some kind of future in which we're together, and now you feel obligated to make it happen?"
"You think—?"
"I don't know what to think anymore, Stephen!"
They both stopped short as the doorknob in the front hall rattled.
Jack, Sarah Jane, Luke, and Maria were peeling themselves out of their winter layers, shaking snow out of the folds on their coats onto the front rug, when Stephen stalked down the hall with Jon in tow.
He let go of Jon's sleeve as he came to a halt, so that the other man stumbled forward a few more steps. "I have something to say!"
When the general shuffle had died down, and Stephen was satisfied that all eyes were on him, he turned to Jon.
The whole tale (or rather, an edited-for-content version, to Jack's mild disappointment) came out later that evening.
Its audience gathered in the attic, where it turned out Mr. Smith could display the Wørd's graphic on his screen. Jack had never made the connection between the television segment and the reason Stephen made psychic paper go wonky, but the papilløn was far from the most incomprehensible thing he had ever met. Between her incisive insights and snarky puns, he was immediately charmed.
Jon stepped in to add his perspective at times, and Sarah Jane made a few comments, but this was really Stephen's story to tell.
It was a good one, too. Jack was hooked, as were the kids: Luke taking it all in with his usual open curiosity (and laughing at most of the Wørd's comments, though some of them went over his head), and Maria listening intently, with a few tight-lipped smiles.
Not until Stephen had finished did Maria break her silence. "Do you think it was fair?" she asked, addressing Jon. "That he had to wait almost two years for you, I mean."
Stephen looked sharply at her. The Wørd went tactfully blank. Subtly, so that only Jack's military training let him pick it up at all, Sarah Jane tensed.
Fortunately, Jon was no fool. When he spoke, every word was chosen with care.
"I think," he said slowly, "that it was necessary. And maybe it wasn't fair, and it would have been completely understandable if he had given up on me halfway through." His hand moved to Stephen's knee. "But I consider myself very, very lucky that he didn't."
(Okay, Jack definitely liked this man.)
Stephen was looking directly at Maria now, sizing her up with a gaze so intense that Jack could actually see her trying not to flinch. There was no way this would end well. He hadn't been comfortable with the idea that morning, just out-shouted by Sarah Jane . . . .
"It's hard," he said. "Even when you know they're worth it. It tests you, waiting that long for someone."
Maria nodded warily.
"But if you can do it—if you're strong enough to handle it—then you're ready to deal with whatever happens next."
At this, Maria smiled, sweet and bright. "I understand."
Jack was impressed. Sarah Jane looked relieved. And Luke . . . well, Luke hadn't batted an eyelash through the whole thing, as though he had expected nothing less. Maybe he was savvier than he generally got credit for.
"Sarah Jane?" broke in the genteel voice of the computer. "If I Might Make A Suggestion?"
Sarah Jane shook herself. "Go ahead, Mr. Smith."
"The Roads Will Not Be Cleared Tonight. If You Plan To Attend Midnight Mass By Walking, It Would Be Prudent To Leave Soon."
"Ooh, thanks for the warning." Stephen got to his feet. "Uh, I know you guys are all godless heathens of some sort or another, but if you want to come along . . . ."
Even Heathens Appreciate A Good Sing-Along, quipped the Wørd, as the entire group got to its feet.
"You don't believe all of it, though, right?" asked Maria as they trudged along half-shoveled sidewalks, basking in the glow of houses bedecked with colored lights. "I mean, did you ever go to 33 A.D. to check if anyone really got crucified and came back to life?"
"Why is that so hard to believe?" demanded Stephen. "You already know someone who doesn't stay dead."
Jon laughed. "There's an idea. Hey, Jack, ever been to first-century Jerusalem?"
"Nope. Sorry to burst your bubble."
"But you're immortal," pointed out Luke, a speckling of miniature rainbows from the nearest house lighting up his serious-as-ever expression. "And you know a time traveler. So maybe it just hasn't happened for you yet."
"Nonsense," said Jack, grinning at the absurdity of the idea. "It's impossible."
"Why?"
"Because . . . ."
He frowned. Why was it impossible?
"I mean, come on, there's no way I . . . . Don't look at me like that, Stephen! I'm not the foundation of your religion. Period. Let's talk about something else, okay?"
The conversation fell into silence.
"Oh!" exclaimed Jon suddenly. "We've been meaning to ask you something. Do you know of any species that looks like a six-foot-tall human head?"
"A couple, yeah," said Jack, remembering one in particular. "Why do you ask?"
"Well, uh, we kind of have one. You might have seen him on the show. The Giant Head of Brian Williams?"
Oh. That couldn't be who Jack was thinking of, then.
Unless . . .
Names get corrupted over time, after all. It was currently known as the Giant Head of BW . . . and when you had lived for hundreds of thousands of years, your skin was bound to get a little leathery . . . .
"Jack?" asked Stephen. "Do you have any ideas?"
"I just might," said Jack. "Have any of you ever heard of the Face of Boe?"
December 25, 2009.
The floor was strewn with boxes, ribbons, wrapping paper, bits of plastic packaging, and the remains of exploded crackers. Stephen had been dubious when he saw the first colored paper crown, but ten minutes later everyone else was wearing them, and he refused to be left out.
The initial frenzy of gift-opening, fueled by the sugar rush from a fresh batch of cookies, had settled into a mood of lazy contentment. Luke was thoughtfully dismantling the artifact that Jack had brought him from Torchwood HQ. Sarah Jane watched with pride over a cup of eggnog, sprinkled with plenty of nutmeg. Jon was absorbed in the little silver-grey Verron puzzle box he had gotten from Stephen; Maria had offered to show him how it opened, but he was determined to work it out on his own.
After all the fuss Stephen had made looking for it, Jon's present to him had turned out to be nothing more than a couple of snappy silk ties. But now, sitting on the floor with (most of) his favorite people in the universe around him, he found to his surprise that it didn't bother him at all.
In fact, his whole body seemed to be suffused with a warm glow. One that had nothing to do with the rum he had added to his eggnog.
Nothing Like Christmas With The Family, said the Wørd appreciatively.
Well, no. That would involve a lot more shouting.
I Don't Mean Your Relatives. I Mean Your Family.
Stephen was still trying to figure this out when his thoughts were interrupted by a mechanical whirr. K-9 had made his way up to the edge of the circle of people, only to be stymied by the mess on the floor.
"Here, I'll clear a path," offered Stephen, crawling over and shoving a miniature hill of packing peanuts out of K-9's way.
"No need, Mas-ter Ste-phen," announced the dog. "I am car-ry-ing some-thing for you."
Stephen couldn't think what it would be. Still, no matter how satisfied he was with the Christmas spirit alone, he was never one to turn down free stuff. When the panel in K-9's side slid open, he reached eagerly inside. "Good dog!"
K-9 wiggled his ears modestly.
The box wasn't much. Wrapped in plain green paper, it was just the right size to fit neatly in Stephen's palm. There was no card, and the little square of the wrapping paper folded over and taped to the top had no names in it, only a single printed sentence:
I'm ready if you are.
Stephen's heart began to pound.
OMG, added the Wørd, pithy as always.
Tearing the rest of the paper off, Stephen flipped open the velvet box inside, then whipped his head up to look at Jon. "You—but—the ties—?"
"Emergency backup," stammered Jon. "In case I decided not to . . . but, well, I did . . . so what do you . . . ?"
Snapping the lid shut over the matched set of gold bands, Stephen launched himself across the room and into Jon's arms. "What do you think, you idiot? Yes! I am! I do!"
Breaking into a grin, Jon pulled him close, kissing his cheeks, laughing; and Stephen laughed right back, leaning against Jon, nuzzling his neck, murmuring I do and I love you over and over into his ears, and not caring in the least whether anyone was watching.
Or so he thought, until he happened to look up and find, to his disappointment, that nobody was watching.
"What's everybody looking at?"
"Thought I heard—" began Jack, then broke off at the clomp of feet coming down the stairs.
Moments later, the door swung open. "Hello, everyone! Sorry I'm late, got tied up in a sort of invasion thing up by the North Pole, but that's all sorted now—ah, I see you got the snow! Should be perfectly safe, it'll react like normal water in most situations, as long as you don't put it in the microwave. How is everyone? Oh!" His grin fell as his eyes landed on Stephen, still wrapped around Jon. "I've missed the big moment, haven't I?"
Stephen, for his part, was smiling so widely his face was starting to hurt. "We could always act it out again, if you wanted."
"No, no, that's all right," said the Doctor, his spirits bouncing back as quickly as they had fallen. "But, please, tell me you saved me one of those hats!"
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Thank you! ♥
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Commented mostly to use my other icon, so that I can say I covered my bases. :P Also, I grabbed this one pretty much specifically because of this 'verse, so it needs its time to shine, lol.
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I love you *_*
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So glad you enjoyed, and have a merry one!
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Thank you!
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...okay, this completely and utterly broke the cuteness scale. As did the comic where Stephen was telling Jon how much he loved him. D'aww, I now have a warm, happy, fuzzy feeling. =D
Wonderful. &hearts
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Thanks ^_^
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thanks so much--it was all a blast to read!
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*Jon voice* No, thank you!
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:D
This made me really happy. Their argument at the beginning was just what I've been waiting for, weirdly enough... And I loved the resolution at the end. So so sweet and perfect. (And I guess we can assume this is the Fourth Doctor?)
Lol, I love the Word with its "OMG."
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This can be any Doctor you want. It's ambiguous for a reason =P
Thank you!
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XD
SO. MUCH. HAPPY.
and this:
Breaking into a grin, Jon pulled him close, kissing his cheeks, laughing; and Stephen laughed right back, leaning against Jon, nuzzling his neck, murmuring I do and I love you over and over into his ears, and not caring in the least whether anyone was watching.
Or so he thought, until he happened to look up and find, to his disappointment, that nobody was watching.
is the cutest thing that has ever happened
*hugs it*
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Glad you like!
(Love the icon!)
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JACK IS JESUS?!?!?!? OMG I laugh...but his frightening relaization that it isn't entirely impossible was great.
"Even Heathens Appreciate A Good Sing-Along"- *Raises hand* "Oh, me! Me! I do! I do!" Seriously, I love Christmas songs. Even the religious ones.
As always, K-9 is the most adorable thing ever and gets hugs.
Aw. Jon n' Stephen...That was completely adorable in all sorts of ways. I'm all warm and fuzzy now. <3 Happy Holiday!
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Heh, my folder 1400+ Christmas demonstrates the same thing XD
Thank you, and have a merry one!
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♥ ♥ ♥ so much!
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Glad you like, and hope yours was merry!
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I GOT SOMETHING TO SAY!
i heartheartheartheartheartheartheart you. the art is some of your best; they're so hot. andand. "But you can't possibly be jealous of Jack," he protested. "Just because he's handsome, charming, strong, tall, a secret agent, eternally young, has had hundreds of girlfriends . . . you never let stuff like that get to you!"
Jon winced. "Not until just now, no."
that bit! also, the in-love-with-my-guts-but-it'd-snarl-up-the-time-continuum. and. did you get the hot chocolate.
Jack should've hit on Word-sama! and Mr Smith; he talks like her.
Jack is Jesus??...??
Holiday Word is adorable, or you are.
and Doctor wanting one of those hats.
What's everybody looking at?
Kagaya
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Jack probably did hit on the Wørd. And Mr. Smith, for that matter XD
I hope somebody's written Jack-as-Jesus fic. The idea must have occurred to someone else.
♥!
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I was waiting for some kind of confrontation between Jon and Stephen because he was(as usual) kind of frustrating all along and here it is! and what an amazing confrontation it was!
Insecure!Jon is so cute!! His first present was a bit disappointing thought, but his proposition....*am dead from cute*
Well, now I will leave you cause I have a chapter to read again...
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Thank you!
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(And it's not *quite* Jack-as-Jesus, but: *recs fic* (if you haven't already seen it, that is!))
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(Oh, man, that fic. Saw it; loved every bit of it.)
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So glad you liked!
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Okay, now that that is out of my system....
Fantastic. Brilliant. I have so loved this whole story, and this last bit was just... awwww :D
I love that Jon used K-9 to deliver the rings! *g*
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Jumping on the bandwagon incredibly late
(Anonymous) 2010-04-19 08:19 pm (UTC)(link)Re: Jumping on the bandwagon incredibly late
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The only appropriate response, really. So glad I reread this. THE FACE OF BOE. Hah, I love that I get that now.
I think I'm done spamming you now. XD
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The spam came appreciated!
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(Anonymous) 2010-09-20 12:37 am (UTC)(link)BEST PROCRASTINATION FROM MUSIC THEORY PAPER _EVER_. *HEARTS*
queenfanfiction from LJ
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(For future reference, it's very easy to sign in on DW with your LJ account :D)
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(Anonymous) 2010-11-27 07:23 pm (UTC)(link)no subject