• Question: Could it be Apodyopis or Gymnophoria for that AU in wich Donna is a doctor and John is clumsy? - workitmakeit
  • Answer:


    Gymnophoria - The sensation that someone is mentally undressing you

    "Hi there, Doctor," John greets breezily. 

    "Hello, John," the Doctor greets as she draws the curtain behind her. John is fiddling with the ties of his hospital gown. "It’s a bit early to be in for even you, isn’t it?"

    "Yeah, breaking my own record," John laughs nervously. His fingers continue to fiddle with the white string under his neck. Somehow he takes the bow it took him ten minutes to do and undoes it in two seconds. 

    "Oh!—here," the Doctor jumps up to tie the gown again. Her clipboard tumbles to the ground but apparently the top bow of John’s robe is much more important to her. 

    "That’s ok—cold!" John yelps as the Doctor’s icy fingers brush the top of his spine. She mutters an apology and begins tying the bow slowly enough for John to remember he’s rather under dressed. The Doctor’s movements slow considerably and he blushes up his neck. 

    The Doctor does remain silent, much more occupied with looking down John’s wiry back. There are plenty of scratches and scars all along it; a map to his clumsy life story. He’s more muscled than she expected for his two bit frame, seeing his muscles contract around his flanks as he breathes… 

    John grows more flustered by the second, worrying about a thousand things at once. What’s got the Doctor so transfixed? Is she looking at how skinny he is?—the bumps of his spine? Is she looking at his underwear (with the Flash lightning bolt across the arse)?! The hairs on the back of his neck are standing up. He glances to the metal cabinet, where he can make out the reflection of the Doctor checking him out intently. John shivers; he’s never been “checked out” before, let alone by a woman as…Doctor-y as…the Doctor… 

    "Sorry," the Doctor mutters hurriedly as she steps away from John. She spares a flustered hand to rake through her hair, scolding herself for literally drooling over a patient. "So, um, what brings you in this morning?"

    Apodyopis - The act of mentally undressing someone

    The Doctor listens intently as John recounts the story of how he took a tumble off the kitchen counter while trying to retrieve a cup. It’s just like last week, when he rolled all the way down Mister Alworthy’s hill to catch a goose waddling into his garden. John means well, but has the coordination of perhaps a two-left-footed-snake-in-galoshes. 

    "So, of course, bump my head right on the counter corner," John laughs as if the incident couldn’t have rendered him dead with different luck. 

    "You should be more careful, John," the Doctor notes lightly, still listening but far from focusing on his words. Her chin rests in her sly fingers, tapping slightly against her cheek. Her eyes remain on his oddly muscly back. Shadows dance along his flanks, traveling down to the dimples over his adorable backside. That is one cute bum; the Doctor bites her lip.

    "Doctor?" John turns and calls out to her. Her eyes are transfixed blankly, without any real desire to focus. Under the lighting of the room he can see that a pale flush is creeping up her neck. It looks like there’s something on the tip of her (delicious, totally cute) tongue. "Is everything all right?" 

    "Hm?" she startles a little in her seat. She blinks, realizing she has spent the last ten minutes shamelessly licking John head to toe with her mind. She’s always had a bit of a thing for him, of course, but there are so many rules against she shouldn’t even be considering it. That being said, she has considered - and dreampt of - enough to have crossed that line long ago. 

    "You look kinda…spaced out," John blinks but still smiles disarmingly. The Doctor remains flustered and he feels heat creep up the back of his neck, "earth to Spacegirl." 

    "Sorry John, I guess I’m a little," the Doctor licks her lips, now wondering what his chest is like under that cotton gown, "distracted." 

    "That’s all right," John shrugs, just short of twisting self-consciously. He clenches and unclenches his fists anxiously by his sides. "Should I…I can come back another time." 

    "No, no, don’t be…it’s fine," the Doctor shakes her head a bit and stands. John lies himself down and she leans over with her stethoscope. Her hair, loose and flowing freely, pools on his chest like liquid fire. She clears her throat nervously, "sorry." 

    "S’okay," John murmurs quietly, quite frazzled by the mounting tension in the room. 

    The Doctor keeps herself quiet now, trying to focus on her work. Instead, she focuses on the sound of John’s rapid heartbeat (his pulse is always fine when it’s checked, then when she listens to his heart it’s hurried). She focuses on the feel of his chest under her fingers, and how her own heart feels like it’s traveling up into her throat. Her palms suddenly become clammy and she withdraws. 

    "Doctor, are you okay?" John asks with an innocent blink at how her cheeks turn steadily pinker.

    "Um, yeah," the Doctor stutters to talk past her blushing. She struggles to keep her mind steady and leans up again. Her fingers flail for the stethoscope as images of a very naked John Smith continue to fill her mind. "I’ll, um, I mean you nud—NEED!!…um, you need…muscle relaxant."

Source: thenoblelark


I hope Georgie doesn’t mind that I took those prompts (again).

Anagapesis - The feeling when one no longer loves someone they once did.

 Cutting Loses (Sarah/Alec)

Read More

Source: imnotacommittee
  • Question: Cagamosis - an unhappy marriage for Chris and Doe please! - Anonymous
  • Answer:


    Cagamosis - An unhappy marriage 

    Every night, she thinks, Dorothy stands on that balcony. The cool air hits her skin like a slap but she likes it. She revels in feeling something, anything, but the devoid loss of love this place forces upon her. Everywhere she turns, she finds more empty space. 

    A door opens across the way. Its sound is slow, eerie, as the creaking echoes around the courtyard. The scuffing of slippers floats up outside of the complex and into the night—towards the moon and the clouds. 

    Dorothy sees him. 

    A beautiful man stands across the annex. He stands on his own balcony, in his slippers and his dressing gown. There are glasses on his face that catch the glare of the moonbeams. His scraggy brown hair looks unkempt, not too long but not well groomed for his beautiful, angular face either. His wife doesn’t care. 

    Dorothy smiles despite herself; her husband couldn’t give less of a damn about her. He hasn’t looked at her in days, as far as she can guess. They don’t talk, let alone touch. She grows more and more isolated as the days go by. Her only solace is the time on this balcony. 

    The handsome stranger smiles at her. She can see that far. It makes her smile too. He waves, if clumsily - shyly - and she blushes. She’s glad he has glasses (maybe he can’t see her pink complexion in the darkness). 

    A snore erupts from Frank, shattering the serenity of the quiet. It demolishes Dorothy’s sense of peace. Her heart breaks as the thick breathing in the room reminds her of what really is. 

    "Evening," the stranger calls gently. His ring catches the light, same as hers does, but both are polished from constant fidgeting, moving…near removal. His wife lies sleeping, neglectful of his feelings for as long as their marriage has lasted. He guesses that the husband of the beautiful creature across the yard knows that feeling. Why else would someone so ethereal be out in the night like he is—like this?

    The echo reaches Dorothy, however faint. It seems a lot louder in her head. She can see his lips move and suddenly it’s like it’s right by her ear. Life itself surges through her and she doesn’t feel so numb anymore. She doesn’t care that she stopped wearing Frank’s coat out here to keep her warm—she can’t stand the smell of it anymore. She doesn’t care that she’s freezing because suddenly there’s a small warmth in her. It comes from a place she forgot existed. It seems to bloom directly from her heart; she thought that had stopped beating a long time ago. 

    "Evening," Dorothy whispers, but the beautiful man seems to hear, or at least understand. He smiles, and her happiness survives, at least for now. She offers her own wave and his smile grows. She doesn’t know how she can see that it does, in the dark and across the way, but she can. She can see his smile plain as anything  and it’s the most beautiful thing she has ever seen. 

    At the strike of midnight the spell is broken. Both parties remember the spouses lying in wait for them. The silence is now suffocating and heavy. Dorothy is reminded all too much of Frank’s disgusting cologne, permeating their sheets and his clothes (but nothing she touches). She’s reminded of how his daughters will awake in only hours, waiting to devoid her of even more love, even though she can’t resent them because they’re her girls too. She can’t resent her own children—her own babies. So, she resents herself, she resents her life, and she resents Frank. 

    "Good night," she whispers. Dorothy offers one last smile before the wind picks up and slashes across her cheeks. It hurts, this time, like hail hitting her too hard. It’s painful. 

    "Good bye," Chris whispers. The beautiful woman’s hair flies with the harsh night wind and he sighs. He’s in love with a specter, like a dream that lives in a mirror. He remembers the woman in his bed, sprawled out selfishly, just waiting to harp at him come morning. He used to love her. That was long ago, and before he spied the lovely vision of his dreams. She drifts back in through the door, gone silently like the night itself. Chris sighs to himself, "Dorothy Ratcliffe."

Source: thenoblelark

I just realized that posting Lindsay’s request—it only posted half of it!! So, as apology and still devoted to her, here’s the full length fic (that I wanted to post if tumblr weren’t a butt!)

Gargalesthesia - The sensation caused by tickling

"Aw, come on!"

The Doctor smiles as Adipose…

Source: thenoblelark
  • Question: Ayurnamat for Doctor!Donna and John, please? - Anonymous
  • Answer:


    Ayurnamat - The philosophy that there is no point in worrying

    "Are you comfortable?" 

    "John," the Doctor calls out as he paces. 

    "Maybe it’s a little cold in here." 

    "John," she calls again, a little more forceful than the last time. 

    "Or are you too warm?"

    "John, please just come here." Finally she seems to have grabbed his attention. He comes over to her, where she lies on the jumpseat, which now reclines. "Would you please stop worrying?" 

    "How can I not worry?" John sighs but lets the Doctor pull him in by the hand. Hers are soft, pale and smattered with the most adorable freckles. He loves her freckles. "Do you know how much I worried about you before?"

    "Do you know how little good worrying does?" the Doctor smiles gently. She guides John to the seat next to her. "Worrying is just you thinking about things that haven’t happened-"


    "At all," she puts a hand to his cheek. He’s starting to grow stubble, left unshaven from all the days of activity. "Just because you’re scared of what could happen doesn’t mean it will." 

    "Three days," is all John says, and has to say. His eyes seem all the more tired from the admittance. 

    "Three days of fine peace," the Doctor finishes the statement. She doesn’t have any of the panic in her that John does—far from. Instead she has a kind of serene glow to her. "I’ve been enjoying them." 

    "Well, I suppose you’d have reason to," John lays his head to her stomach in fatigue. 

    "He’s perfectly content, that is," the Doctor smiles and puts her hand on her own stomach, just brushing John’s hair. "I can feel his restlessness, but other than that, we’re fine."

    "I just want you both safe and happy, with me," John murmurs against the Doctor’s swollen abdomen. It’s tight and hard, which she says is normal but worries him grey. 

    "I know, John, but I promise it’s all right," the Doctor’s eyes are already drooping, from exhaustion or warm contentment either way. 

    "You’re tired," John muses before he guesses. He immediately takes off his jumper and lays it over her. "Why don’t you have a nap, Love?" 

    "If you stay here with me," the Doctor snuggles into the warmth of it. She can smell him on it, making her cheeks tinge pink. 

    "Of course," John kisses his wife’s cheek and lays his head down on her rusty silken locks. 

Source: thenoblelark
Photo Set

Baisemain [1/1]


Fandom: Doctor Who
Pairing: Ten/Donna
Summary: Almost as soon as they arrived at the party, the Doctor ran off.
A/N: Bee gave me one of these prompts and it got painfully out of hand, so I decided to actually post it on AO3. Somehow it’s still only shippy if you squint.

(via dreamerbee)

Source: starqate
  • Question: Hearing, rather than seeing her son enter the room, Nellie popped one eye open as Leo toddled around their bed, his thumb in his mouth and his stuffed lion safely held in his arm. He stopped in front of his sleeping father and blinked before reaching up with his hand and patting his father on the face. Snorting in his sleep, Peter groaned and then sighed, pulling the blanket higher. With a determined pout, Leo threw the lion on the bed and began yanking at the covers. - Anonymous
  • Answer:



    There’s an anon fic in my ask and it’s fantastic

Source: dreamerbee
  • Question: Stifling a giggle, Nellie rolled and wrapped herself around Peter, propping her head on his shoulder. “I do believe your son wants your attention.” Hearing him grunt and then watch as he slowly peeled the blanket down, Peter bit back a sigh as his son, now finished and seeing his daddy, beamed up at him and held out his arms, leaning forward. - Anonymous
  • Answer:



Source: dreamerbee
  • Question: Picking him up, Peter swung his son in the air, the toddler’s happy squeals bouncing off the walls. Happy they were actually dressed, Nellie reached down for his toy and held it up for Leo to take, who gladly brought it to his chest. As Peter brought him down, Nellie pushed down the blanket and Leo happily snuggled between them, his eyes already drooping as he grinned at his daddy, his head on his mummy’s chest. - Anonymous
  • Answer:


Source: dreamerbee