I Catch Aliens

Permission Meme

Thu, 17 Dec 2009 06:11:24 GMT

☆ Threadhopping with this character - yes/no/maybe so?: Yes!

☆ Backtagging with this character - yes/no/maybe so?: Yes!

☆ Hugging this character?: Gwen likes hugs. XD Though if she had no idea who your character is, she might think it's a bit strange.

☆ Giving this character a kiss?: Gwen also likes kisses! But, again, better if your character knows her.

☆ Punching this character: Sure, but be prepared to get punched back. When in doubt, PM me.

☆ Is there anything ought not be mentioned near this character?: Not anything I can think of.

☆ Is there anything you need us to know about interacting with this character? Special physical features, fighting abilities, STUFF: Gwen's a classy dresser... she likes black jackets and boots. Idk?

☆ Anything else, please mention here: I'm totally open to pretty much anything. As I said, when in doubt, PM. Or, just do it. Whatever.

Reality Shifted Application

Sun, 13 Dec 2009 07:55:46 GMT

Player Name: Bex
Player LJ: purple_shoes
Timezone: MST
Other Characters: Alex Drake (poshmouthytart), Ashes to Ashes

Character: Gwen Cooper
Series/Fandom: Torchwood (spin off of Doctor Who)
Deviance: d1

Age: 30
Gender: Female
Species: Human

Canon Used: Television series (both Doctor Who and Torchwood), radio plays, and (selected) spin-off novels

Appearance: http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v27/thexwoman/RPG%20stuff/gwen.jpg

Psychology: The highlight of Gwen’s personality is her concern for others and her empathetic nature – some would argue empathic, although Gwen has no notion of the difference. She is extremely caring for those she loves and sensitive to their needs and discomforts. While she holds others in high priority, it is often ends in a discredit to herself, as she had been known to sabotage herself by launching her into tantrums and emotional bitterness when she feels slighted. This is a result of her overwhelming selfish side, and her impulsive nature often leads her to jumping to conclusions or saying something unnecessary, or doing something without much thought to the long term ramifications.

While extremely loyal to those who have earned her trust, she can be pushed to disloyalty in matters that she feels she has no choice, or in a swirl of emotions she can’t handle. She tends to be highly emotional and reactionary, although she struggles to keep these emotions under control.

Gwen has a great amount of respect for authority, but is not afraid to stand up to authority when she feels her perception of justice is in jeopardy. She is curious and driven, and borderline obsessive, and when she sets her sights on a goal, she will not give it up, no matter the price. For the most part, she is often a slave to her emotions and environment, and her volatile reactions are a reflection of the traumatizing experiences she has had in the last two years mixed with a sheltered, almost spoiled background in which little was denied to her. She is still adjusting to the horrors she has seen since joining Torchwood, and struggles to balance these traumas with her sheltered life before. She is also emerging from a tendency to compartmentalize her life; the strange things she has learned in her job created a world almost completely separate from her home life. She reached the point where balancing the two worlds and blending them into a single life became necessary for her own emotional stability.

Other Skills/Abilities: Gwen has intermediate hand to hand combat skills honed both by the police and her work at Torchwood. She's also knows her way around a gun with both hands.

Other Weaknesses: Gwen had typical human weaknesses; she can be a hardass but she's no superhero.

History: Gwen lived a relatively uneventful life into her late 20s. She was born and raised in Wales, and because of her drive for justice and her proud Welsh heritage, she decided to join the South Wales Police not long after her graduation from college. It was in college that she met Rhys Williams, her long time partner and future husband. They lived a very normal, almost easy life until Gwen was about 27, when she stumbled across a rash of serial murders, and ended up launched into an unsteady alliance with Torchwood Three, an organization aimed at studying and controlling alien activity. Although they tried to wipe her memory, Gwen was able to trigger the memories and regain them, and help solve the murders. In the wake of it, the Torchwood leader Captain Jack Harkness offered Gwen a place on the Torchwood team, and she jumped at the opportunity.

However, Torchwood was nothing like the police, and Gwen continually struggled with the traumas she experienced and the requirement to keep her career shielded from everyone she knew and loved, even Rhys. She lashed out by having an affair with fellow Torchwood member Owen Harper, and eventually becoming insubordinate towards Jack. However, she deeply loved and admired Jack, resented Owen, and struggled with keeping her relationship with Rhys stable even as the lies she told him became overwhelming.

To Gwen's horror, Rhys was murdered by a Torchwood enemy, and Gwen betrayed Jack in order to reset time and eventually resurrect Rhys. Jack then disappeared with the Doctor, and for a while Gwen served as the leader of Torchwood, and her unexpected launch into that status helped her better understand her job and gave her a further confidence in her own authority and place among the team. It was also during this time Rhys and Gwen became engaged. After Jack returned, her previous actions did not seem to change her relationship with Jack, though it did force her to re-evaluate her relationship with Rhys. She chose to strengthen their relationship, and eventually introduced Rhys to the Torchwood team and let him into the secret life she had been living for over a year. This helped her solidify her confidence in her relationship with him; even through their wedding she struggled with fighting alien hostiles. They, eventually, were successfully married, and although her feelings for Jack remain, Gwen has dedicated herself to making her marriage with Rhys work.

Recently, Owen and another member of Torchwood, Tosh, were killed. Gwen struggled with their loss and impending sentence of mortality it put on the team, and almost left Torchwood, but agreed to ultimately stay. She continues to mourn the loss of her teammates, but is dedicated to moving on with her life within and without work.

Canon Point: After the radio play “The Lost Souls” (also post 4x13 of Doctor Who, “Journey's End.”)

Reality Description: Gwen's reality starts in typical 2008 Cardiff, Wales. A typical bustling city with typical people, typical technology and typical day to day things like cars and buses and bills and coffee shops.

But Gwen's world isn't always as typical, because hidden beneath all that is the Torchwood Three Hub, where “typical” is less along the lines of queuing for a cash point and more along the lines of aliens in the sewers, space whales in warehouses, and mind-reading technology. There's a rift that runs through the centre of Cardiff, a tear in space and time, and Gwen's work days are filled with examining and sometimes battling what falls through that rift, be it alien or otherwise. They are two realities with different challenges and difference difficulties, wrapped up in a single reality that Gwen often has to fight to balance.

The most common NPC Gwen will encounter is her husband, Rhys Williams. He knows about Torchwood and the dangers of Gwen's job, but (often begrudgingly) supports her. They've had their ups and downs, but she loves him and appreciates his loyalty after all Torchwood has put them through. They live together in a flat in Cardiff.

First Person Speaking Sample:

[It seems as though the plane has a new visitor! Meet Gwen Cooper; dark hair, wide eyes, and why, yes, she is staring up at the strange hole in the sky with a look on her face somewhere between drooling amazement and abject horror.

She may also be muttering some near indistinguishable words to herself. After what she's looking at now, talking to oneself in public is certainly the least of her worries.]

Oh, this is brilliant, yeah? Leave it to my life, just tryin' to make sure no one gets maimed on a Saturday night, and I end up... here. Where ever here is, anyway.

[She takes a deep breath and examines her surroundings. She's probably taking this just a tad better than she would even have expected.]

I'm startin' to think we need a handbook. Don't press mysterious buttons, don't go down dark alleyways on your own, and don't go explorin' mysterious shops without backup.

This must be what's on the other side of the Rift. Only a matter of time, you end up on the wrong side of the very thing you've been fightin' for two years. Must have been what Mum meant when she said “Don't play with fire, Gwen, or you'll get burned.”

'Course, at the time she was referrin' to Rhys, but a lot has changed since then.

[She crosses her arms and taps her foot, finally taking her eyes off the sky to look around.]

So, anyone interested in tellin' me what's goin' on around here?

Third Person Writing Sample:

From another game I play Gwen at. This is a recently completed log with our Ianto Jones. (This is actually a canon-update log for Children of Earth, and since I'm taking Gwen from earlier in canon I hope it's still okay to reference.)

http://community.livejournal.com/crowdedhour/74655.html

Did you read the rules? Yes

Thu, 10 Dec 2009 14:04:45 GMT

theCome kiss me under the mistletoememe

Sat, 05 Dec 2009 03:58:06 GMT

CHRISTMAS IC FRIENDING MEME
MY THREAD HERE

Sun, 29 Nov 2009 06:24:17 GMT

Pass a Secret Note ✘ Meme

for theatrical_muse... Thank you

Sat, 28 Nov 2009 04:49:28 GMT

There's a tattered, leather bound book that sits on her nightstand. No one opens it but her, and even she rarely writes in it. Usually she doesn't think about it, but every now and again, an overwhelming need overcomes her to write down the things she can no longer say. The secrets she no longer has anyone to tell.

Dear Jack,

She presses the pen to her lips and casts a glance to the form beneath the duvet next to her. Her husband grumbles and shifts in his sleep, and an affectionate smile crosses her face.

I never said thank you. I don't know why I didn't, when I had the chance, all those years ago. How was saying goodbye so much easier then? Maybe I hoped if I never said 'thank you' it would mean things weren't really finished. I still owe you something, and I hoped one day you would come back for it.

But you're never coming back, are you, Jack?

A door opens and her pen stills over the paper. She hears the footsteps down the hall towards the kitchen. It's just Siana, up for a glass of water or a midnight snack. She's eight years old and her life is already flashing before Gwen's eyes. Gwen can't even remembered when her daughter became old enough to get a cup out of the cabinet on her own.

So here it is. Thank you. Not for the shit that was our job, or the things we went through, or the people we lost. But for thank you for saving me and Rhys. For doing what you did to help us. And for leaving, so we had a chance to live our lives together.

Slippered feet pad down the hall again, and the door closes. Gwen looks at the clock; it's almost 11pm, and she has to be up to see Siana off to school in the morning. Rhys has to go to work. Washing up needs done, meals need made, clothes need washed. Normal things. Boring things.

Wonderful things.

Thank you, Jack, for leaving. For reminding me of what's important. I hope wherever you and are, and whatever you're doing, you've been reminded of that too.

The book is closed and on her bedside again, her cathartic moment drifting from her mind as slumber claims her. She knows he'll never read the letters she's penned to him over the years; even if she sees him again, she knows she doesn't write in the book for him anymore. She writes it in it for herself, to remind her of the things they fought for, the things they died for, the things they killed for.

She writes in the book so that she can remember, one day, to thank him.

------------
Cut for length and spoilers for Children of Earth.
------------
Muse: Gwen Cooper, Torchwood
Prompt: #311 - Thank somebody for something.
Verse: Open Verse
Word Count: 461

from pi_sparrow

Thu, 12 Nov 2009 06:08:11 GMT

The Pass a Note!Meme

The Rules:

-Pass a note! To another character in your muse's canon, or to someone else's muse!
-It can be text, whipped up in photoshop, done by hand and scanned in, doesn't matter!
-Spread a little love old-school style (no pun intended)

Gwen Handwriting Font

Tue, 10 Nov 2009 22:54:50 GMT

EDIT: I've made a slight tweak to the font, actually just the lowercase "h", but I went ahead and uploaded the newer version and sample image with the correction.

I made a font for Alex this morning, and I decided to do one for Gwen too! It's based loosely on her handwriting from the Torchwood Archives (scanned so generously for me by damnfinecoffee, and while I'm aware that what they used it also a font, I wanted to do this anyway). Please feel free to yank and use if you'd like.

(click for larger sample image)

>>download font here<<

(Let me know if you would like it uploaded somewhere other than MegaUpload.)

ETA: I did this through http://fontcapture.com.

for muses_gonewild... Quote Prompt

Sat, 07 Nov 2009 03:57:51 GMT

"The brain is a wonderful organ. It starts working the moment you get up in the morning and does not stop until you get into the office."
- Robert Frost

Even on the clearest of Cardiff days, when the wind from the bay hardly chills her bones on the walk towards the Plas and her coffee from the local cafe tastes a bit better than usual, she still knows all that doesn't mean just because she's at work her brain got there, too.

Working for Torchwood has it moments of frustration. Some days, that frustration caps at her inability to locate the "Select All" button on her e-mail before she hits "Delete."

------------
Cut for an image
------------
Muse: Gwen Cooper, Torchwood
Prompt: Quote from Robert Frost
Verse: Open/Crack
Word Count: 82 + image
Note: Liberties with canon timeline have been taken.

spread some love! (you know I like these)

Sun, 01 Nov 2009 21:25:15 GMT

Roleplay Love Meme

quote meme from pi_sparrow

Sun, 01 Nov 2009 16:12:06 GMT

Go here and reload until you get five quotes that sum up your philosophy or outlook, then post them.

"The first and great commandment is: Don't let them scare you."
Elmer Davis

"How can you come to know yourself? Never by thinking, always by doing. Try to do your duty, and you'll know right away what you amount to."
Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

"You must not lose faith in humanity. Humanity is an ocean; if a few drops of the ocean are dirty, the ocean does not become dirty."
Mahatma Gandhi

"I generally avoid temptation unless I can't resist it."
Mae West

"Life only demands from you the strength you possess. Only one feat is possible - not to have run away."
Dag Hammarskjold

for theatrical_muse... Wake Up

Thu, 15 Oct 2009 04:53:57 GMT

Wake up.

There's something.

Just wake up.

She's not really asleep, not really quite unconscious or dead. She's aware of the fact that her legs are moving, even though she can't feel them. She feels her arm around Suzie, the sting of her shoulder as the weight of her body is near-dragged across the pier. She watches the splintered wood as her feet shuffle along, one foot in front of the other, Gwen. Keep moving, keep feeling.

Wake up.

She doesn't quite remember when she hits the ground, if she fell or if she was dropped, but it doesn't really matter at that point because her eyes are closed. There's a light behind her eyelids, but it's fading into darkness. She's already forgotten the sensation of prickling, warm sun on her skin, or the uncomfortable stabbing of ruined wood through her clothes. There's just a darkness now. The last sensation, the last feeling she thinks she will ever have, is the rushing brush of lips against her own.

And then darkness.

Wake up.

Darkness. Complete darkness, and she wants to feel around her. She wants to use her hands to guide her to an escape. But she thinks there isn't an escape. Also, she thinks she doesn't have hands anymore.

She suspects it's like sleeping, like all of her is asleep except for this single shred of what's left of Gwen Cooper. That final heartbeat, that last rattle of breath. She wonders briefly is death is the same for everyone, if those final seconds in the living world pass like eternity to the dying.

But she doesn't think about it long, because she senses, somehow, that she is no longer alone.

There's something.

There's something in the darkness.

Wake up.

And then, she does. A light breaks through, and before she can convince herself she's ascending to her childhood Heaven, a gust of air rips across her lips. Her lungs spasm with pain, and she lashes out in alarm. Her eyes open, the sun burns, and she clings to the soft material of clothing. It takes her too long to find out she's in Owen's arms, still on the pier. Her head throbs, her heart throbs, everything throbs with the most exquisite pain because she's awake, she's alive, she can feel again.

Owen rocks her like a child, but she won't close her eyes again. She doesn't know how long until she'll be able to rest. She thinks, already, she's been asleep for too long. And she's seen it now; the terror moving in the darkness.

It's time to wake up.

------------
Cut for length
------------
Muse: Gwen Cooper, Torchwood
Prompt: #301: Wake Up
Verse: Open/Canon Verse
Word Count: 431

Meme time!

Tue, 29 Sep 2009 04:10:39 GMT

I put this up at my personal journal, but it's fun so I figured I'd put it up here as well. Feel free to answer just one or more.

A. "Has my portrayal of a character(s) changed the way you think of him/her?"

B. Pick one of my characters and I'll answer the following questions about him or her.
1. What would your character kill for? What would they die for?
2. What would they refuse to do under any circumstances? Why?
3. What do they dream about?
4. What’s their biggest fear?
5. What single object would they be most hard pressed to part with? Why?
6. What is their fondest memory?
7. What is their worst memory?
8. What or who was were their most significant influence? Expound.
9. What do they believe makes a successful life?
10. What makes them laugh?
11. What are their religious views?
12. What is their greatest strength?
13. Do they have a fatal flaw? If so, what is it?
14. Who is the most important person in their life?
15. If they died, who would miss them most? How would they die?

C. Pick a fandom, any fandom I'm in. I will tell you:
1. One True Pairing Ship:
2. Canon Ship:
3. "If this happens I'll stab my eyes out with a spork" Ship:
4. "You are one sick puppy" Ship:
5. "I dabble a little" Ship:
6. "It's like a car crash" Ship:
7. "Tickles my fancy but not sold just yet" Ship:
8. "Makes no canon sense but why the heck not" Ship:
9. "Everyone else loves it but I just don't feel it" Ship:

Fandoms:
Torchwood (Gwen Cooper at alien_catcher)
Doctor Who (no muses)
Life on Mars (no muses)
Ashes to Ashes (Alex Drake at poshmouthytart)
Stargate SG-1 (Vala Mal Doran at letsmake_babies)
Sherlock Holmes (Irene Adler at thewomanswit)
The X-Files (no muses)
Star Trek: The Next Generation or Voyager (no muses)

Non-fandom muses are:
Camel (Original character at crowdedhour, talkingcamel)
Artemis (Greek mythology at fallenpedestals, maidenhuntress)

Sun, 27 Sep 2009 07:27:44 GMT

♬ Sing me a song and I'll tell you a story ♬
MY THREAD HERE

for theatrical_muse... This is...

Tue, 15 Sep 2009 07:00:29 GMT

This is how the world ends.

It lay in dust, now, the singular reminder of what had been the end of her old world, and the beginning on her new. She picks up the shoe box, and the dust is coarse against her palm, scratching against the warped, peeling cardboard as she clears it away.

Inside are the memories of a life she once lived, before the world ended. An identification card, with a picture of a woman who had become a stranger. It was unsettling to think that had once been the face she saw, every day, when she looked in the mirror. Her old warrant card from the police; she’d never been told, exactly, to turn it in, so she never did. A few newspaper clippings, the ones that had not been kept in her desk and had not, thus, been lost when her old world had burned.

A single, faded photograph. The smiling face of a familiar stranger, surrounded by the figures of ghosts who have never ventured far from the safe confines of her memory.

The video tape lay at the bottom. Outdated technology now, near-forgotten, like the events the tape had captured. But when she sets it in her palm, she can still feel the weight of an ending world, and she can still hear her own, trembling words in her ears as if she were still speaking them.

I’m recording this in case anyone every finds it so you can see...

... you can see how the world ended.

This is how the world ends.

“Mum?”

Gwen drops the tape back in the box and closes it swiftly, a cloud of dust rising up to tickle her nose.

“Mum, what are you doin’?”

She’s grown so much, Gwen thinks, already fourteen with a commanding presence that reminds Gwen of herself in a way that isn’t particularly comforting. Her daughter stands in the doorway, pushing dark hair from her eyes and crossing her arms.

“You’ve been up here two hours. Dad says come down for tea.”

Gwen looks at her daughter. She is tall, stocky like her dad, her round features so reminiscent of the stranger in that faded photo. Gwen looks at the shoebox. It holds only dust covered memories of a distant past she has fought so hard to remember.

She slides the box back between other dust choked relics of her past and stands up, brushing off her hands. “Okay. Let’s go eat.”

Her daughter looks at her, green eyes alight with an innocent curiosity. “What were you lookin’ at, Mum?”

“Things,” Gwen answers, too quickly, with a tone of finality. “Just... old things.”

She ruffles the girl’s hair playfully, and daughter shoots mother a look of defiant disbelief. Arm and arm they walk downstairs, Gwen once again ready to live in the present, allowing the old world, the ended world, to remain at undisturbed rest.

This is how the world begins.

------------
Cut for length and minor spoilers for Children of Earth
------------
Muse: Gwen Cooper, Torchwood
Prompt: #300: This is...
Verse: Open Future
Word Count: 497

Question Meme!

Mon, 14 Sep 2009 16:58:07 GMT

⇘ASK MY PUPPET MEME⇖
Ask them a question!

Yes, I promise, I will get back to prompts and proper things soon. I just need to get my head around my pups again.

Six Impossible Things Meme

Tue, 08 Sep 2009 04:35:07 GMT

Six Impossible Things :: my thread

Happy Birthday, Ianto Jones!

Thu, 20 Aug 2009 01:39:44 GMT

On Ianto's desk in this Hub sits a, well, obviously home-wrapped gift.

The tag attached reads:

Ianto,

I was going to make you coffee again but after the ~~last time~~ unfortunate incident with the French press I thought just a gift this year would be better.

Happy Birthday!

Gwen

for theatrical_muse... The Weather

Wed, 19 Aug 2009 05:24:11 GMT

She made dinner; lasagne, but it had burned ever so slightly, searing a dark mottled brown over the top and around the edges.

He rang, and she answered the phone breathlessly, precariously balancing a tomato in one hand and a bowl in the other.

“I’ll be late,” he said.

“It’s okay,” she replied, because it would be unfair to think otherwise.

By the time they ate the lasagne was cold and dry, the salad wilted and soggy. He ate it without complaint, pulling away the burnt corners of his meal.

She slid a near brown leaf around her plate with her fork, smearing a dark trail of vinaigrette in its wake. Her other hand lay gently over the mound of her stomach.

“Nice day today,” he said, between bites.

“Was it?” she replied.

“Yeah.” He chewed slowly. “You didn’t go on your walk then?”

“No, too tired,” she said. She stuck a lettuce leaf in her mouth. The dressing was a tart shock to her senses, and her tongue recoiled.

“Shame. The weather was great. Nice and warm, blue sky. You should get out more, if it holds up,” he half-mumbled through a mouthful of food.

She tilted her head, offering a nod of agreement. “While I can still walk properly, anyway. ‘Fore long I’ll be waddling down the road like a pot bellied pig.”

“Sure it won’t be that bad,” he said. “This lasagne is really good.”

“Don’t lie. It’s awful.”

Silence, as he chewed his food, with perhaps more difficulty than such a dish should allow for. Silence, as she nibbled at the ends of a few lettuce leaves that hadn’t been tainted by the vinaigrette. The baby kicked against the palm of her hand, and she calmly stroked her belly.

“We should do something nice this weekend,” he said. “Just us. Maybe a picnic if the weather doesn’t go sour.”

She stabbed the lasagne with her fork. “Don’t know. Forecast says storms.”

He swallowed his last mouthful of cold, burned, mediocre lasagne. “Does it? Well, that’s what we get for living in Cardiff.”

“Yeah,” she said, twirling her fork on her plate. “Well, it was a nice idea.”

He paused for a long moment, before setting his fork on his plate with finality. “Yeah. Some other time then?”

“Of course,” she replied. “Some other time.”

------------
Cut for length and minor spoilers for Children of Earth
------------
Muse: Gwen Cooper, Torchwood
Prompt: #295: Talk about the weather
Verse: Open/Canon
Word Count: 410

{{A million thank yous to twicedisplaced for the beta. &hearts}}

for theatrical_muse... The News

Mon, 10 Aug 2009 07:20:18 GMT

It never ceases to amaze her, really, how people so easily forget.

The time always comes, after every spectacular event, after every earth-shattering understanding of the greater universe, when Gwen picks up the paper and realises it’s been forgotten. It’s a never ending constant in her life, knowing that the spaceships hovering over London, the mass panic through the streets of Cardiff, the view of her city in flames and devastation, will soon fade into the background noise of petty politics and X-Factor scandals.

But they will never fade for her. The images that flash through her mind, the nightmares that still shake her awake in the dark. She knows it would be easy for her to forget too; to turn in her resignation, to take a single pill that would steal every painful memory and toss them into oblivion. To most, her nightmares are simply stories; black and white print against crinkled paper, accompanied with fuzzy photos impossible to verify. For Gwen, they are constant reminders of the continual danger that haunts her every step.

On the couch, her head tucked snugly against Rhys’ shoulder, her eyes skim the pages of the newspaper as she takes in the stories of the latest disgraced celebrity or politician. The newspaper is now her own escapism, because the world the journalists so freely write about is such a far cry from the world she sees everyday. And she can’t particularly blame them. After all, the world deals with its trauma in the best way it can; by moving on.

In those moments, Gwen knows the true weight of Torchwood. Even through the tears, the terror, and the nightmares, Torchwood continues to fight. And Gwen continues to remember, so the rest of the world can have the gentle luxury to forget.

------------
Muse: Gwen Cooper, Torchwood
Prompt: #293: Talk about a news item
Verse: Open/Canon
Word Count: 495

All you need is love...

Sun, 09 Aug 2009 15:51:27 GMT

RP Love Meme // Show me love

nick_mccarthy made me...

Sat, 08 Aug 2009 08:46:30 GMT

Which Franz Ferdinand Lad are you?
Your Result

Bob Hardy
You are the very cute and lovable Bob Hardy. Girls want to pinch your cheeks and talk about how cute you are. Especially when your on you usual spot on the stage.

Nicked from rhystherant

Mon, 03 Aug 2009 03:44:07 GMT

Comment here with one of your character's names for a big block of text about how mine feels about yours. Return the favor!

(Feel free to request a 'verse if applicable!)

oh, the meme thing...

Mon, 27 Jul 2009 00:50:16 GMT

RPSHIPSMEME

for muses_gonewild... Her Bed

Sat, 25 Jul 2009 05:56:17 GMT

Spoilers for "Children of Earth"

By 10pm, she is in her pyjamas. The window is open, and the evening wind ripples the curtains and tickles her skin. He won’t be to bed for another half hour, and it is her time, the only time she allows herself in the span of her days, to feel the weight of it all against her.

She sits at the window for a few moments, until the tickle of her hair against her cheeks begins to send an annoyed restlessness through her body. She moves slowly – waddles, now, she has to admit – and sits with an exhausted sigh at the vanity. She holds a brush in her hand, the heavy wood solid in her palm, her hand sticky against it’s rough finish as she drags it through the length of her hair.

It’s almost ten minutes past when she slips beneath the duvet and shuts off the light on the night stand. She lay in the darkness, staring up at the ceiling she can’t see. The silk of her nightdress is smooth against her skin, and she slides her hand across the bulge of her stomach as she feels another life move inside of her.

She’s not used to the weight, and she doesn’t know if she will ever be. She huffs another laboured breath and curls to her side, her wrist hanging limply across her body. She curls her legs as close to her body as she can, plants her curled fist against her mouth. And she cries.

Her hand muffles her sobs, and as her grief washes over her she digs her teeth into skin. Her throat is tight and dry, and the tears gather on the pillow against her temple, wet and clammy. She can’t afford to let him hear her cry; the weight of her grief already plagues his eyes, and she can already barely stand to look at him. She knows there is only so much of her loss he can help her carry. The rest is her burden, and hers alone.

She feels a tremble within her; the baby, kicking against her. Stifling her tears, she puts her hand back on her stomach, rubbing and patting until she can feel the child quell within her. Right now, she remembers she doesn’t carry her grief alone; her child bears it too, and she hopes that a mother’s sorrow is not genetic. Her child should not suffer the weight of its mother’s sins.

At ten thirty, her sobs have vanished, and her eyes have cleared. He slides into bed next to her, thinking she’s asleep, and his arms slip around her body. His hand splays against her stomach. She is still awake when she feels him slip into his own peaceful slumber.

It’s all the time she has, to feel the weight against her. The weight of his hands, the weight of their unborn child. But neither is as heavy, or as permanent, as the weight of ghosts.

------------
Cut for Spoilers for Children of Earth
------------
Muse: Gwen Cooper, Torchwood
Prompt: 164. Her bed (setting)
Verse: Open/Canon
Word Count: 495