Reasons to do this: it will bring both you AND I joy

[cherry]

Guys! I am informed that it is some sort of day dedicated to spreading joy. I am all for this. (Some of you from waaaaay back in my #subcafe days may remember my inaugural "tell people that they rock," day.)

In this spirit, and knowing that everyone is best pleased by different things, I am offering a virtual cornucopia of things designed to bring joy. By commenting, you can have any combination of the following a la carte options:

1) A drabble. (Doctor Who, Dexter, Avatar: the Last Airbender, Life on Mars, Due South, Ocean's 11, Firefly, Dead Like Me, BSG, assorted comics (X-Men, Gen-X, Runaways, Y: The Last Man, etc.), Dogma, House, Dark is Rising, Narnia, Heroes, Harry Potter, Torchwood, or things you won't know about until you ask.)
2) An icon.
3) A reason I think you rock.

Comments

[cherryice.livejournal.com]

More Joy Day is more of a concept with a sliding time scale, I think. *G*

There's always a nip in the Hub, Martha has noticed. Wales in winter draws the heat from her skin, cold intensified by the chill emanating from the cut stone walls, the press of earth around them. The damp works its way into her clothes and hair, doing its best to release the curl in her hair, the chatter in her jaw. Arms wrapped tight around her knees, she digs her bare feet deeper into the worn blankets of Jack's bed. Thinks of the impeccable temperature controls of the TARDIS, of the thick orange comforter that lay across her bed there.

"Hey," Jack says, offering her a chipped mug, steam whisping up towards the stone roof.

Martha is leaner than she was two years ago, fuller than the day she knelt on the Valiant, nothing but bone, muscle, and hope. Her bones ache with it still, sometimes, the ribs she broke in Japan, the long scar along her left thigh. A year she spent, mostly in the dark and wind, rivers and fog and storms, and she thinks sometimes that the chill got too deep into her.

Jack drapes a blanket around her shoulders, over the jumpers, then drops down and winds an arm around her. He's down to his shirtsleeves and braces, gooseflesh clearly visible along the pale skin of his arms. She remembers the oppressive heat of the engines of the Valiant, the sweat and dirt on his face when she saw him again. Tish still sleeps with her windows thrown open wide.

"It all still happened," she says, leaning in to his shoulder. She doesn't look at his face. Sips her tea, peppermint.

"I know," he says, rough edges to his voice. Tish won't tell Martha what happened to him, but she wakes up crying sometimes, and all Martha can do is sit with her.

Jack leans his head against Martha's, curve of his cheek fitting easily against the top of her skull.

Jack's arm around her, blankets heavy against the chill in the air, the heat of the cup pressed between her palms. The temperature controls in the TARDIS are impeccable, but this -- this is warmth.

[wondygal.livejournal.com]

Aww, Martha and Jack! That sure brought me joy while I'm waiting to see the finale. *bounces* Very lovely! Oh, they are so awesome together.