his_sarah_jane: (excuse me?)
Write a conversation between your character and another using only dialogue. However, both characters are doing something and it must be obvious from the dialogue what it is.

“Doctor? Doctor, why don’t I believe you-”

“Nonsense, Sarah Jane. I assure you that I have the situation completely under control. In fact, I would even go so far as to say that I’ll have the situation mastered in, oh, two point five minutes.”

“I really don’t believe you.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because it’s you, Doctor! You’d probably think a situation is under control if we were being chased by… by a giant heard of rhinoceroses!”

“Which, I would remind you, we are not. Now, it’s not as if there’s anything dire about the current dilemma, is there?”

“…oh, I wouldn’t say that.”


“Because you… you shifting that way and…

stop it, Doctor! Stop it!”

“Stop what?”



“I really think that scarf ought to be considered a lethal weapon.

“Not to mention a form of cheating, Doctor!”

“Now, really, I must protest, Sarah. I’ve checked the rules over and there’s nothing in them about-”

“Your move.”


“Oh, you heard me! Spin, will you? And get that right hand on yellow.”



“Your move, I’m afraid.”


Ow! Bloody hell, that hurt!”

“Two point five minutes exactly, Sarah Jane.”


“Really. I must protest. A Time Lord’s body happens to be-”

“And a Time Lord’s scarf? Oh, honestly! ”

his_sarah_jane: (writing)
What or who do you think made you the way you are today?

Sarah tapped her pencil against her desk, sighing as she stared at the question in front of her. It was a jumping off point, something her aunt had suggested in framing her personal statement for her university applications. However, if you were to ask the seventeen year old, it was a bloody pain in the arse. A waste of an afternoon that could be far better spent meeting up with some mates down at the park for a game of field hockey.

The question, though, seemed to glare up at her from the page. What or who do you think made you the way you are today? Why? It was a stupid question, as stupid as every other question Aunt Lavinia had suggested she answered.

“You’re the writer,” she had said. “I’m positive that it won’t take you long to think of something. But here’s a list of topics I clipped out of the daily paper. It may help.”

So far, none of the questions had helped. She was down to the last one. Her personal statement: five hundred words proving that Sarah Jane was capable of a university education, capable more so of entering a journalism program. And in the past two weeks, she had come up with nothing.

With a sigh, Sarah stopped tapping her pencil against the desk and braced her hand to write. Maybe words would flow better on her typewriter, but she had absolutely no desire to waste the ink.

“Who or what made me the way I am today?” Sarah read aloud, rolling her eyes as she did. “Who bloody well cares?”

My aunt, Lavinia Smith.

No. She didn’t like the sound of that. Sure, Aunt Lavinia imparted wisdom upon her niece while she was growing up. Sarah certainly knew that her feminist attitude had all to do with her aunt’s beliefs. But that wasn’t enough.

It seemed that this question was going to be a whole lot harder than it looked. Sarah let out a frustrated breath and returned to tapping her pencil a few seconds longer before scribbling down more ideas. Each was quickly scribbled out after the first.

My aunt, Lavinia Smith.

The loss of my mum and dad.

Being unable to save Andrea. Watching her die.

Lois Lane

Sigrid Schultz.

Field hockey.

Writing my first essay
Oh, who am I kidding?

My parents did technically make me. Daft answer to a daft question? Sounds perfect.


Sarah Jane stared at the last item on her list, underlining and then circling it with thought. It was a possibility alright. Who needed someone else to shape them? Who needed some bloody event you didn’t even want? Certainly not her. A small grin crossed her features as she nodded. For now, it had to be the best answer she came up with. With confidence, she began to write:

Most individuals would answer this question claiming a specific life-altering event or perhaps a role model in whom they placed the upmost degree of confidence and admiration within. It is, after all, what this question is begging for to be penned. Without a doubt, I have had my share of life altering events. I have known people in my life that have been role models without even realizing. But none of them, not a single course of action or a single word of advice, possess the influence to make me who I am today.

That honour falls fully and completely to me.

It is I who, in the end, chose the lessons to abide by, picked the people to learn from. No one in the whole of Earth exists who would have made the same decisions I made if put in my shoes. I can’t claim to have chosen wisely, nor can I claim that I’ve stuck with those decisions I made. But, as a whole, it was my actions and my choices that led me to be writing this essay today.
his_sarah_jane: (sarah and eleven)
Alien sex pollen

The night glittered with gold. Willow trees swayed in the wind, percussion to a hidden orchestra of frog-like creatures and chirping insects. Moonlight danced along a lagoon. Little pixie like aliens fluttered about, fireflies in the darkness. One pixie, more curious than the rest, had strayed from the group. If this one little pixie were to be given a name, one would find the name of Puck, or Robin Goodfellow as it may be, quite fitting. Yet, Shakespeare had not yet penetrated this vast deepness of space.

Most mischievous of the lot, Puck enjoyed following visitors to Serenada. More than that, he enjoyed playing with those visitors. A trio walked past the lagoon, two bipedals and a hairy beast on all fours. Puck took delight in the golden pollen falling from the trees above and watched as it continued to saturate the clothing (and fur) of the travelers.

They were unaware. He was not.

Puck knew the words. Puck knew the potential the pollen of Serenada’s trees possessed: inhibitions released, desires met. And tonight was a night for mischief. He had always liked mischief.

The night glittered with magic.

In the background, aloof and away from all, a knowing police box stood and watched.


“Are you feeling better now?”

The Doctor looked at her. The height difference that had once so existed between them was now little more than normal. It made certain things easier. Studying her eyes, for one, or checking to ensure her ankle was all right. Even in the moonlight, the concern was evident in his cool, blue eyes.

Sarah Jane nodded, smiling softly. She kept her grip on Sawyer’s neck fur. He made a good a crutch as any. The wolf did not seem to mind one bit. He stayed pressed to her side, almost as if trying to make up for the fact she had fallen in the first place. “I am. After all, this planet is far too beautiful to give up for one sprained ankle.”

“So long as you can manage,” he answered softly. “The moment you can’t-”

“I’m fine, Doctor.”

Sarah sighed. She came to a sudden stop, falling to the ground with an undignified snort. Her fingers fiddled with the laces of her boots as she worked to undo them. From the corner of her eye, she saw the Doctor stand next to Sawyer, both watching her with concern. Bloody ankle.

Bloody man.

If only you could know, the things I long to say.” The words came unbidden. Sarah Jane sang softly as she ran her fingers through ripples in the lagoon. She watched his reflection, unaware that anything could be amiss. “If only I could tell you, what I wish to convey.

“At least you’re enjoying Serenada.” The Doctor smiled crookedly before he slowly sat down behind her. “All of Orion’s splendor and none of its sadness.”

The dreams I can't declare, the needs I can't deny. You'd understand them all if only you would try. All my secrets, you would learn them. All my longings, you'd return them. If only you would notice how I ache behind my smile. I guess you never will, I guess it doesn't show. But if I never find a way to tell you so… Oh, what I would give, if only I knew how.

The music of the night swelled in crescendo with Sarah’s last few words. She turned to look at her friend. Already he was lost in the solitude of his own thoughts. It made her heart ache as she watched. There was so much, too much, that he had witnessed without her. Oh, how could she ever make it up to him?

Maybe by telling him the truth. It had been bothering her for some time now. Since he welcomed her home again and she had remembered just how wonderful it felt being wrapped in his arms. Sarah had never felt that comfortable around any other man. But how could she tell him? He’d only laugh.

But if I never find a way to tell you so…” Her voice was barely audible to her own ears. Then she took a deep breath and forced a grin on her face. “Doctor-”

“A dance, Sarah Jane.” She had been cut off. Somehow, in the few seconds that had passed by, he had risen to his feet and was now offering a hand to her. “Can’t you hear it? The sounds of the night? I’ve always wondered what it is about this planet that makes it so enchanting. It has to be the music, clearly so. So a dance. Please.”

He felt so hesitant, felt as if his hearts were leaping out of his chest as he waited for her answer. The Doctor had no jelly baby to offer, nor any tom foolery to make the moment what she might expect. She seemed so accepting of his new self, but at times he found himself doubting. When he felt her hand slide in to his, however, all doubt was erased. The Doctor smiled broadly and helped her to her feet.

He swept her into a waltz, holding her waist lightly as they began to dance along the water’s edge. Two smiling faces stared at each other. The reeds chimed in the wind as fairy light began to play around them.

Dancing is a language that is felt instead of heard,” the Doctor began. It was an explanation of each step, of the dances he had learned while a part of Arthur’s court. “You can whisper, sing, or shout without so much as a word. Tell your body what to do. See how much a single gesture can reveal. And every little step, every single step, is one step closer to saying what you feel.

Sarah followed his steps without hesitation. It took a little bit of effort to try not to take the lead. Quickly enough, though, she couldn’t tell who led or who followed. The dance became a partnership, a partnership that led them twirling and gliding along the lagoon.

And every little step, every single step,” Sarah whispered as they entered a small grotto, “is one step closer to being understood.

The dancing stopped.

A light breeze ruffled their clothing, twisting Sarah’s skirt around her ankles and creating playful ripples in the Doctor’s sleeves. She stared up into his eyes, brown gazing at blue, both sets lost to the world around them. At the edge of the lagoon, Sawyer howled. Moonlight snuck in through the cavern entrance, bathing them both in its glow. A ring of fireflies danced around them.

And a disembodied voice, somewhere among the winds, percussion, and strings of nature, began to sing:

Yes, you want her. Look at her, you know you do. Possible she want you, too, there is one way to ask her. It don't take a word, not a single word, go on and kiss the girl! Sha la la la la la, my oh my, look like the boy too shy, ain't gonna kiss the girl. Sha la la la la la, ain't that sad, ain't it a shame, too bad, he gonna miss the girl. Do what the music say, go on and kiss the girl. Go on and kiss the girl, you gotta kiss the girl, go on and kiss the girl…

The music seemed to soften and the world seemed to disappear as the Doctor leaned downward. Sarah Jane closed her eyes and tilted her head upward. Their lips met and time stopped.

Go on and kiss the girl.

Her lips parted to allow his tongue to enter. His arms wrapped around her waist and she placed hers around his neck to steady herself. All those words she had meant to say came spilling out in the kiss. To Sarah’s utter surprised, those sentiments were returned.

Clothes melted away as a new dance started. The Doctor gently lowered Sarah to the floor. She looked up at him as he knelt above her, looking for a sign. Sarah Jane nodded. Their lips met again. Limbs tangled and hearts beat loudly, all three. Sweat mixed and the music gave way to a different melody. Pants and groans and whispers of need.

And when he entered her, she finally admitted aloud that she loved him. The Doctor smiled and buried his head in her neck as they continued their dance. They continued until neither was left wanting, until both were spent.

He took her into his arms after, wrapping his shirt messily around them both. She settled her head against his chest and hummed contently. There would be no need to return to the TARDIS tonight. There would be no need for any more words tonight, either. Just blissful sleep. And the promise of a new day, started together rather than apart.

From the sidelines, on his perch atop the head of a very annoyed wolf, Puck clapped and laughed with high-pitched glee. The golden pollen worked every time. “He kissed the girl!”

[ooc: [livejournal.com profile] merlin_doctor and Sawyer borrowed with permission of mun. song lyrics in italics from Broadway’s “The Little Mermaid.”]
his_sarah_jane: (his girl friday)
2. Mun (sort of): Muse, introduce your mun. Anyone can ask questions about your mun, as long as it's all in character.

Environmentally Minded Grad Student Faces Frustration Over Ticket Booking for Transportation to Cardiff
By: Sarah Jane Smith

An incoming second year Masters student at the Duke University’s Nicholas School of the Environment discovered that travelling by train is much easier when in the possession of a Britrail or Eurail pass today, Sunday June 1, 2008. Jenny, an American-European hybrid, has spent the last week travelling about the Netherlands with her parents and younger brother, who she claims isn’t necessarily all that easy to get along with. When making plans to visit a friend in Cardiff accompanied by her mother who would “possibly kill me if I accidentally (and miraculously) ran in to John Barrowman without her,” she found that trains are far more expensive when travelling without a pass.

“It was easy,” she explained. “Last year all I had to do was write in the day and hop on the train. Now? There are prices. And crazy expensive ones at that. Seventy-one pounds for a round trip for two? Riiight – way too much money.”

An alternative is currently being investigated: a round trip coach ticket in place, which is little more than half the cost of train fair. Yet, as the intrepid traveler resides in Amsterdam for the next twelve hours from the tri and is unable to get to Victoria Station to purchase said tickets, all may not bode well yet! Websites, specifically that of the National Express coach service, have been reported not to work when investigating purchasing options.

She does, however remain optimistic that this cause will not be lost. At the very least, Jenny (of no relation to the Doctor’s daughter, despite the creation of [livejournal.com profile] jen_anomaly) has every intention to put forth as much money as necessary so that she alone can visit Wales’ capital.

“It would be lovely to have Mom come, too. But I really want to see my friend. And more to that? I want to see that Torchwood door entrance I missed last year. Plus? Maybe I’ll finally do that statistics work I’ve been needing to do if I’m stuck on a bus or train for hours.”
his_sarah_jane: (kiss)
Get your character drunk.

By now she should have known better when the Doctor told her not to eat the food or drink the water. After all, she had been travelling with him steadily for months by now. And common sense said that what may be edible for one species wasn’t for another.

Still, everything on this planet was gorgeous. When the Doctor had said Phototron Five was known as a pleasure planet, he had meant it. The ocean sparkled like diamonds in the golden sun. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky, which was a gorgeous blue-purple-pink colour that reminded Sarah Jane of a permanent sunset. Beyond the beach was a lush forest of unique, vine-like plants. That was where the town was – the town past the huts on the beach that is.

The Doctor had abandoned her by the water hours earlier, wandering off with some village elders to discuss the current tourism rate. She had thought that he had fit right in. As the elders stroked their bushy white beards, he played with the fringe of his scarf. Sarah was too preoccupied with collecting seashells to notice when the talking stop and the wandering off had begin.

Not that Sarah Jane cared now, either. )


his_sarah_jane: (Default)
Sarah Jane Smith

April 2011

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