Companions + Tumblr (insp)
The biggest tragedy of Doctor Who for me is the fact that Jack never met the Ponds.
I mean, he would have liked Eleven and Amy.
He would have PURSUED Rory to the ends of the universe, and Rory would just be really confused and Amy would get super overprotective
"Captain Jack Harkness, and who are you?"
can you understand why I need this
Rome’s fingerprints are
running down your back;
I want to build you
an empire that forgets
Today marks the three year anniversary of Rory and Amy’s wedding! Hooray!
So to celebrate, we’re going to be reblogging a whole bunch of Amy/Rory posts today to honor our favorite lovebirds. Tag your posts with #Pondiversary to join the party.
You can click the image above to see more of the Ponds’ wedding pictures.
Happy anniversary, Ponds!
make me choose » Anonymous asked Rory/Amy or
"The universe is big, it’s vast and complicated and ridiculous. And sometimes, very rarely… impossible things just happen, and we call them miracles.”
I went over my own word count on the first try. Score.
"Amy?" Rory spun around in the busy spaceport city. He’d only looked away for two seconds and now he was lost. There were colors everywhere. Bright, some inhumanely bright, colors on people, on buildings, and even the grass.
There was, however, no Amy Pond
Nor any sign of The Doctor.
Rory smacked his hand against his forehead, even as the crush of human and decidedly less human bodies began pushing him through the busy marketplace. “Of course I’m lost. ‘Rory, Amy, there’s a lovely place that has four floors of soaps. It’ll be brilliant.’” Rory muttered, imitating the Doctor’s high pitched enthusiasm poorly. “We couldn’t just make a run to Tesco’s for soap.”
Struggling, Rory finally pushed his way through the crowd and into a little smoky establishment he could only assume was a bar. There were people packed around all the tables, mingling and exchanging drinks and plates of sweet and spicy smelling food. It was as good as a place to wait as any. Eventually, someone would notice he was gone.
The only free seats in the place were at the bar – a large thing, obviously made of plastics and metals then decorated to imitate an old west saloon bar – and the stools were just a little too high for comfort. Probably made for larger bodies, Rory thought as he struggled to climb into a vacant seat. Rory waved the credit chip the Doctor had given him to flag down a bartender. He was one of those odd near-human sorts. They always looked so similar to any other bloke until Rory noticed the extra fingers or, in this case, long and fragile looking legs.
"Lager," Rory said as he leaned across the bar. The man made a face and pointed at a bottle. Rory shook his head. "LA-GER." Another confused look and Rory had to bite back the noise of frustration. He could handle a lot of things, but a planet with no lager might push him to his breaking point.
"He wants an Epton," another voice broke in just as a body slid into the vacant seat next to Rory. "Give him one of the chilled. It’s not the same as a lager, but it’s as close as you’ve got." With a nod, the bartender took Rory’s credit chip and returned with a cold pint of what, Rory hoped, was beer.
"Thanks," Rory said. He turned to greet his drink-rescuer and was met with one of the most blinding smiles he’d ever seen. There was enough teeth in that smile to make a shark jealous.
"Captain Jack Harkness," the man said and extended his hand. "And you are?"
"Er. Right. Captain," he stammered. "I mean, I’m Rory. I’m not a Captain." He shook hands with the stranger, surprised by the warmth of his skin, and leaned back into his chair.
"I figured you weren’t," Jack said. "You seemed a little lost on the drinks. And, you know, weird accent."
"Right. Just travelling through. Waiting on some friends to do some shopping."
"Yeah. The Doctor still likes the soap here, doesn’t he?"
Rory, unfortunately, chose that moment to choke violently on the fizzing almost-beer he’d purchased. A few panicked coughs, and a couple of strangely lingering smacks on the back from his new friend, and he was able to breathe again.
"You know The Doctor?"
“We’ve traveled together a few times,” Jack smiled, and Rory swore there was a touch of sadness to it. “Never as often as I wanted to though.”
"How’d you know I was with him?"
"I can just tell. You look out of place, and, really, I can feel the TARDIS all over you."
"You can —- wait, you can sense a spaceship?" Rory gripped his glass tightly, even as a familiar pounding ache began to build behind his eyes. This man was all charm and big smiles, and now was claiming he could tell Rory was with The Doctor because he had a 6th sense for the TARDIS. That wasn’t normal.
Jack finished his own drink in one gulp and shrugged at Rory. “She’s a special ship. We’ve got a good bond. Listen, as painful as it is to not get to know you a little better, I’ve got to say hello and run.”
"You don’t want to help me find them? You don’t want to see him?"
Jack stood, and Rory took in the broad shoulders and tattered and stained military coat. “Don’t really have the time,” he said, and then laughed as if he’d told the most hilarious joke in the universe. “I’ll give him my love next time. Maybe some for you too.”
Then, with a wink and a grin, the other man disappeared into the crowd surrounding the bar. Rory strained his eyes to try and see where he’d gone, but to no avail. If he had a pound for every mysterious stranger he’d met so far… well, he’d have enough to buy quite a few real beers.
Rory took a large sip of his own drink, and then jumped as a familiar, and annoyed, voice boomed in his ear.
"Rory Williams, did you leave me to go get pissed in a space bar?"