i wonder how people describe me when they’re talking about me to someone who’s never met me
Alex Kingston at Britannia Awards, 2013
^^ thank you, lovely!!
thank youuu!!! ^^
I kind of find it funny when someone says ‘ho Doctor could have taken Melody back to her parents boo the poor plot’.
Yes, why not? It could only have good results, right? Melody goes back to her parents, never grows up to be Mels, never plays matchmaker for her parents, wipes off her existence.
Boo Moffat. *rolls eyes*
Let’s see how I can fit this into that. :P
#2:There were many theories about how she was murdered.
1 AM AND I HAVE A NUGGET IN MY HEA D THAT I JUST HAVE TO WRITE aka how I make a spooky/angsty line a fluffy baby fic
"There were many theories about how she was murdered-"
River nodded, snuggling into the covers. 1 am. She counted fingers. Only 4 hours of sleep. 5.30 would be too late to go to bed without disturbing their schedules.
"-of course no one knew exactly how it happened-"
She scrunched her eyes shut. Sometimes it was difficult to discern who was better behaved- her 7 month old daughter, or said daughter’s father. “Sweetie, can we talk about this in the morning?”
"Hm? Oh." He nodded, his eyes still fixed at the text in his lap, "Yes. Of course." His focus still on his book, John leaned and pressed a kiss at the corner of her lips, "Good night, River."
Too tired to roll her eyes at him, she snaked a sluggish hand out to switch off the lights, “Good night, nigh-“
"No, but seriously, River. How do you think she died? Who could have murdered her?"
She turned to him with a sickly sweet smile, stroking a hand over his bare chest. Grinning, he leaned closer, prepared to kiss her, “Riv-“
Alex Kingston and Matt Smith, Behind the Scenes, Time of Angels
This win comic con this year !!!
TheyHe kept her alive in theirhis thoughts. Too alive, perhaps.
He kept her alive in his thoughts. Too alive, perhaps.
Centuries she was everywhere. Inside his ship, outside. Around him, near him. Moving about, commenting on his poor driving skills, her dry remarks punctuating the dull droning of the people around him.
She had long been dead. She was supposed to be in the data core. And yet, she was always there. Even death couldn’t hold River Song back.
He tried to ignore the cheeky winks and teasing smirks. Something so frustratingly endearing was a cause of heartache.
Sometimes, she curled around him like warmth on dry winter nights, her voice a soothing murmur as tears pooled at the corners of his eyes. Even her whispered insecurities were laced with loving embraces and comforting words, only meant to assure him, strengthen him.
He clung to her in those moments, his eyes tightly closed as he feigned sleep. His hands itched to draw her into him, to comfort her. To show her how she had emblazoned herself on his hearts.
And that meant the inevitable goodbye.
She was alive in his thoughts, and he refused to give them up.
She slapped him, teased and taunted him. Sometimes she even tried to throw things at him. And he ran with her. It didn’t matter which her, younger, older or a data ghost, but she ran by his side, and he ran with her.
Sometimes, in dead silence, thoroughly convinced he couldn’t hear or see her, she talked about everything she had never told him about. All the missed dates, forgotten anniversaries. Every time he was late, every time he hurt her. All the Christmases she waited for him. So many of them after she was released from Stormcage. So many.
He jumped to them, pretended his ship was taking him- them- there. Tried to make that one last memory, snatch that one rare moment with her. A Christmas spent running from dinosaurs, another being chased by a group of Sontarans. Inane moments where a young River dragged him to shopping and left him handcuffed at the back of a bookstore with his pants around his ankles as she spent her time browsing through Archaeology texts. Or where she tried her hand at domesticity, knitting a way too big sweater for him- big enough for two to share. Quite enjoyably cosy too.
It may have been cruel, but he was Scrooge. Carefully counting, collecting and hoarding all the moments he had never had with her. At least in death, she could travel with him, be with him.
He hid from her- the real her- hid from his thoughts. Watching that sad, rather bereft smile curl at her lips hurt.
The emptiness, the silence after bidding her goodbye at Trenzalore unnerved him. It suddenly became too quiet. He began looking around, actively seeking her, calling out to her. Just this once. Perhaps round the corner. May be in the library.
A slow descent into madness was infinitely more preferable. At least she would have been there.
It hurt, yes. But he was an addict and she was his drug.
4. Which has the most “you” in it, however you’d define that?
6. Idea that you always wanted to write but could never make work?
Trained assassins. Or arranged marriage. Arranged marriages are quite common in India. The concept of two strangers getting to know each other, learning to live with and love other- idk, I kind of like it.
Another one was a Castle AU- Detective Alex Kingston investigating the death of ex-beau Matt Smith’s fiancee’s sudden death, and coming face to face with her own fears (May be I’ll try in a few months [or years], but yeah)
In case of Dinah/Quentin, it’s AUs that I find difficult to work with.
9. Favorite character to write?
Matt and Quentin are easier to write b:
14. Would you want to write canon for any of your fandoms (like be hired by showrunner to do an episode)? Which one?
Nope. That’s a difficult job.
18. If you could go back and revise one of your older stories, which would it be?
2. Favorite piece overall?
I have several b: But if I have to pick one, it would be Even as our cloudy fancies take, suddenly shape in some divine expression. I haven’t written much doctor/river (I end up crying when I do </3), but I adore that verse!! (and it allows me to write my otp in a way I can never see on screen T,T)
3. Which was the hardest to write, in terms of plot?
Probably Baby Bird. I love writing it, I do. I always keep thinking if I’m going too slow, or too fast. [idk if it qualifies for that, but none of the other fics make me want to pull my hair out]
4. Which has the most “you” in it, however you’d define that?
All of them, technically. I can never write without imagining myself in a similar situation.
Which is probably why most of the time I suck phenomenally
5. What is an image/set of images that you’re particularly proud of?
The first chapter of Baby Bird, a terrified Alex clinging to Matt
(really, that chapter is all you need to know about the direction of that fic :P)
Matt and Alex together weighing her decision to continue with the unplanned pregnancy. Seriously, I wanted that moment to be there.
DT not being a jerk about Alex not reciprocating his feelings. Or being too melodramatic about it.
Every Essie Ann moment. Each one of them. They are not big, but I love those moments.
And this little cookie. It’s ending is my favourite.