ShopDreamUp AI ArtDreamUp
Deviation Actions
Literature Text
She was brilliant. River Song could do anything. She was playing the piano.
She is brilliant.
The Doctor simply sat and stared. Everything she did, she excelled at. He crept into a shadowy corner of the Tardise's unused music room and sat quietly in a chair.
River was playing the piano.
Dressed only in a thin nightgown and lacy pullover she swayed softly as she played a low dreamy piece, her fingers caressing the keys with as much familiarity as she held a gun.
When had she found the time to learn to play the piano? Where had she learned it? Surely not in an abandoned orphanage, or in Stormcage.
Yet, she played as perfectly as she did everything else. Sometimes he was jealous of how well she did everything. Well, not really, he was actually impressed, and rather smugly proud.
No doubt her childhood had driven her to excel at whatever she attempted. That thought brought a pang of grief and guilt. But look at what it had created!
He could only imagine what she could have achieved if she'd been able to train on Gallifrey. The whole universe could have been her oyster. Yet, she wasn't bitter. She was the least bitter person he'd ever met.
His hearts swelled. It wasn't that she was brilliant, or strong, or beautiful, it was what she'd made of herself that made him love her. His wife.
"Why are you sitting way back there, sweetie?" she asked without looking up from the Chopin Nocturne she'd segued into.
He jumped, unaware that she'd noticed him. "You play beautifully," he said.
She turned on the bench and smiled at him, all glowing softness in the spotlight of the Tardis. "Come play with me," she said.
His hearts pattered like a lovesick boy's. He stumbled toward her and collapsed on the bench. She laughed. It tinkled against his ears like bells. He had it bad.
"So what shall we play?" she asked, her fingers still unconsciously picking out the lovely strains of the Chopin Nocturne, the music briefly swelled, then trailed gently away.
He watched her hands on the keys, such small competent hands, lethal, loving, graceful.
"I'm not as good as you."
She laughed. "Improvise," she said archly.
He grinned. Oh, how she knew him.
He pecked out Chopsticks with his long bony fingers. She grinned and matched him. He elaborated. She countered. Pretty soon Chopsticks was gamboling over the keyboard like a couple of frolicking lambs. Under the piano their feet fought and flirted for the pedals. She nudged his shoulder, he tickled her pinkie. They laughed and segued into a Beethoven duet, a Broadway musical, the Beatles, Liberace....
Soon the Tardis corridors were rocking with the pounding strains of "Great Balls of Fire!"
In the console room, the Tardis hummed smugly to herself. Warmed by love and laughter, she bumped and grinded her way through space.
She is brilliant.
The Doctor simply sat and stared. Everything she did, she excelled at. He crept into a shadowy corner of the Tardise's unused music room and sat quietly in a chair.
River was playing the piano.
Dressed only in a thin nightgown and lacy pullover she swayed softly as she played a low dreamy piece, her fingers caressing the keys with as much familiarity as she held a gun.
When had she found the time to learn to play the piano? Where had she learned it? Surely not in an abandoned orphanage, or in Stormcage.
Yet, she played as perfectly as she did everything else. Sometimes he was jealous of how well she did everything. Well, not really, he was actually impressed, and rather smugly proud.
No doubt her childhood had driven her to excel at whatever she attempted. That thought brought a pang of grief and guilt. But look at what it had created!
He could only imagine what she could have achieved if she'd been able to train on Gallifrey. The whole universe could have been her oyster. Yet, she wasn't bitter. She was the least bitter person he'd ever met.
His hearts swelled. It wasn't that she was brilliant, or strong, or beautiful, it was what she'd made of herself that made him love her. His wife.
"Why are you sitting way back there, sweetie?" she asked without looking up from the Chopin Nocturne she'd segued into.
He jumped, unaware that she'd noticed him. "You play beautifully," he said.
She turned on the bench and smiled at him, all glowing softness in the spotlight of the Tardis. "Come play with me," she said.
His hearts pattered like a lovesick boy's. He stumbled toward her and collapsed on the bench. She laughed. It tinkled against his ears like bells. He had it bad.
"So what shall we play?" she asked, her fingers still unconsciously picking out the lovely strains of the Chopin Nocturne, the music briefly swelled, then trailed gently away.
He watched her hands on the keys, such small competent hands, lethal, loving, graceful.
"I'm not as good as you."
She laughed. "Improvise," she said archly.
He grinned. Oh, how she knew him.
He pecked out Chopsticks with his long bony fingers. She grinned and matched him. He elaborated. She countered. Pretty soon Chopsticks was gamboling over the keyboard like a couple of frolicking lambs. Under the piano their feet fought and flirted for the pedals. She nudged his shoulder, he tickled her pinkie. They laughed and segued into a Beethoven duet, a Broadway musical, the Beatles, Liberace....
Soon the Tardis corridors were rocking with the pounding strains of "Great Balls of Fire!"
In the console room, the Tardis hummed smugly to herself. Warmed by love and laughter, she bumped and grinded her way through space.
Literature
Not Remotely Important
The old man still looked up at the sky. Every night, when he had the chance, he would wrap up warm and take a flask of hot tea out to the seat beside his telescope. It was an act of tribute now. He had long since let go of the idle fancy that he would ever see that man, that most wonderful man again. Sometimes it was a truly bitter memory, another friend lost to war, and how he hoped that the poor creature, that ancient blazing angel had been wrong. Perhaps he was out there somewhere, fully recovered, too embarrassed to return. Too afraid?
Wilfred knew it was still dangerous. His granddaughter visited often, particularly when his bungalow wa
Literature
The Song of the River.
Time lords are not often sick, but when they are it is very nasty and so they become quite the whiny little grumps. And so it happened one day that the Doctor was laying in bed, shouting through horrid sinus congestion for Rory to “Please hurry up with the bloody tea!” while an equally grumpy, but blessedly unsick Amy kept a cool wash cloth on his forehead to keep his fever down.
She glared at him and snapped “No more yelling at MY Husband, Doctor!”
Rory finally brought the tea in, and set it next to the man in the bed.
“Here’s your tea now will you please stop whining?”
The Doctor grabbed the tea
Literature
4023
"Doctor."
The ghost spoke softly from the spacesuit's communicator as the timelord looked on. He stared at the empty shell now slumped in the silver chair, what had once been that brilliant, mysterious woman. She had known his name and she had saved his life. She had known his name and it was whispering now out of the data trapped in the suit's neural relay. All he could do was watch, handcuffed to one of the computer's metal supports, neither able to reach his sonic screwdriver nor the modified one that had belonged to Professor River Song.
Her voice continued to trickle into the room, though her lips did not move; eyelids closed in endles
Suggested Collections
Featured in Groups
She was brilliant. River Song could do anything. She was playing the piano.
Doctor Who, 11th Doctor, River Song, Romance, Humor, Fluff, PG
If you enjoy the story, add me to your watch list to be notified of future stories. Read more stories in My Gallery.
Please leave a comment. Thank you.
Doctor Who, 11th Doctor, River Song, Romance, Humor, Fluff, PG
If you enjoy the story, add me to your watch list to be notified of future stories. Read more stories in My Gallery.
Please leave a comment. Thank you.
© 2013 - 2024 Betawhofic
Comments6
Join the community to add your comment. Already a deviant? Log In
After a particulary long day and with a huge pile of school stuff to do...
This is absolutely amazing :3
Sometimes I wonder if there's something River can't do..
But really, it's beautiful.
Thank you for making my day better ^_^