Guysguysguys. Right now, go read Handlebars by
orange_crushed . It is brilliant and amazing, all about Amy and Rory and the Doctor.
She is twelve years old, almost thirteen, and she is standing on top of the garden shed in an old blanket. It isn't a blanket, and it is. It's a toga. Never mind the flowers. She's about to be sacrificed to the gods of the volcano, represented here by a sandbox dragged underneath the awning. She closes her eyes and imagines the smoke and ash floating in the air around her, the low sound of chanting, the jingle of gold chains. She's tied her own hands together awkwardly with a handkerchief and her wrists are sweaty where they're rubbing together.
She is twelve years old, almost thirteen, and she is standing on top of the garden shed in an old blanket. It isn't a blanket, and it is. It's a toga. Never mind the flowers. She's about to be sacrificed to the gods of the volcano, represented here by a sandbox dragged underneath the awning. She closes her eyes and imagines the smoke and ash floating in the air around her, the low sound of chanting, the jingle of gold chains. She's tied her own hands together awkwardly with a handkerchief and her wrists are sweaty where they're rubbing together.
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Date: 2010-05-18 05:21 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-05-18 10:09 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-05-18 06:24 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-05-18 10:17 pm (UTC)