fileacomplaint said: I get a little misty eyed whenever I see that part in bill and ted’s excellent adventure when Bill thinks that the medieval dickweeds killed Ted.
I weep during the prom episode of Buffy when the class gives her that umbrella. Every damn time.
when ash lets butterfree go
BYE BYE, BUTTERFREE! :”””(
Umbrella buffy!
In the beginning, after the end of the earth but before chips, Rose was careful with words. They were a commodity she wasn’t sure how to use with the Doctor. He spoke all the time, but never really said anything at all. On the other hand, Rose spoke her mind almost all the time. But standing on the bustling London sidewalk that day, her head full of the exploding sun and the end of her world, she treated words like eggshells.
Devastation.
In that crowd of pedestrians, for only the second time since they’d met, the Doctor really spoke. “You think it’ll last forever, people and cars and concrete. But it won’t. One day, it’s all gone. Even the sky. My planet’s gone. It’s dead. It burned, like the earth. It’s just rocks and dust … I’m a Time Lord. I’m the last of the Time Lords. They’re all gone. I’m the only survivor. I’m left traveling on my own, because there’s no one else.”
I’ve shown you the raw, devastated hearts of me; I’ve made yours raw, too, he said without saying it, his blue eyes so very unyielding. Can you bear that? Can you bear me?
What kind of reply does a nineteen-year-old girl make, when she’s just witnessed the destruction of her planet and seen it restored again with the twirl of a TARDIS rotor? When she’s aching and reeling and standing next to the most mad, wonderful man in existence?
Careful words. Precise. Specific. A small promise. For today, yes. I can bear it. I can bear you.
“There’s me.”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
In the end, after the Olympics but before the final visit to Jackie’s, Rose’s words were careful once more. She stood beside the Doctor on a wind-beaten cliff, overlooking a desolate and craggy landscape. The planet had burned long ago, but somehow life sprang up in the wake of destruction. Plants, water, and creatures so magnificent they defied the laws of physics with their flight. He brought her to this once-decimated place to bask in the miracle of new life and marvel at its beauty. He told her about the impossible odds of regrowth and this planet’s inexplicable, unparalleled existence.
Miracles.
They stood together in comfortable silence for a long time. He turned to her, his hair wild in the breeze. His words were few; his tone held a universe of meaning. “How long are you going to stay with me?”
Here are the beating hearts of me, he said without saying it, his brown eyes so very tender. Miraculous. Whole. Yours.
She’s careful with her words this time, too – not because she’s uncertain, but because he must understand the depths of her promise. This word is every part of me, devoted to you in return.
“Forever.”
It’s too much. I can’t.
