Doctor Who Fan Fiction

Tis a bit random...actually it's very random.

( REG Doctor fic )

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SarahMc - catwoman@merseymail.com
Extended version of an idea I had for the latest dw100 challenge. Warnings for Sulky!Sarah Jane and horrible cheesy solving of problems but nothing much else.

( You don't get raindrops on roses in Space. )

I was just hit by this fanwanky mood one morning last week, so bear with me. Making fun is allowed, but only in conjunction with useful criticism like "you used the wrong word, knucklebrain" since I do know how to use spellcheck. As a polite warning, I can't resist making fun of Benny, Ace or fandom assumptions and the Doctor only appears on the sideline. Oh, and let me know if a) you laughed b) should add more silly scenes.

( Fishing License )

( Midnight Breaking, G )

( Fic )

WARNING: Story contains a spoiler for Project: Lazarus.

( Read Story )

Celery
by Versaphile

He wasn't exactly sure why he chose it, but then he was never exactly sure why he chose anything at the start of a new regeneration. He had stumbled around grasping for a clue to his new self, unable to even remember his own name for a while, and something about it just felt right. Here was something fresh and young, like his new body. Unassuming yet useful, from time to time.

And wasn't that what he was now? They looked at him as if he was, companions and strangers alike. Nobody had ever looked at him that way before, in his old bodies. It stung his pride more than he liked to admit. He had changed, yes, but he was still himself.

He didn't know why he attached the stick of celery to his lapel, but he liked how everyone's eyes strayed downwards when they met him, how they stopped and blinked in confusion for just an instant. And when they looked up again, there was a bit of that old uncertainty in their faces. He smiled at them genially and with satisfaction.

Notes: This was up in my journal. I forgot that I could put it through here. :( If you've already read it, skip it. Thanks!

( Read story )

Borrows the name David A. McIntee gave the Master in his MA The Dark Path but nothing else from that book. This belongs to the “seriously fucked up” category, I think, not to mention being decidedly AU in some ways. My brain is weird. Oh well. You have been duly warned.

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Title: Time and Again
Summary: Written for 15minuteficlets. Though I cheated and took about 30 minutes! The Doctor and Zoe search for Jamie. The word is here:
http://www.livejournal.com/users/megthelegend/30471.html#cutid1
Notes: My very first post to this lovely community, though I've read & enjoyed (and given feedback!) for a while now.
Disclaimer: Not mine, don't sue.
Thanks to: Jen, Vic, Dot, Pete, and Melissa, as always.

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Summary: The Doctor is stranded on a desolate planet and must rely on the help of his old nemeses. The Doctor isn't pleased with himself and this little paradox he created, but the Master is just enjoying the view (of this new Doctor that is). Five/Master is inferred. Okay, so the Master is just sketchy, sketchy, sketchy.

Please R/R?

( Crossed Paths )

[For the dw100 crossover challenge, but it got a little long (again).]

"How do I look?" The Doctor spread his arms wide and turned in place, showing off his new outfit.

"Practically my spitting image," replied William, a half-grin on his face, "if not for the hair. Sit down, Doctor."

The Doctor sat. William pulled his unruly hair back and began to braid it, his hands moving in quick and practiced motion.

"It's strange to be looking at the back of one's head." He pulled a black ribbon from his coat pocket and wrapped it tightly around the short braid. "Or what is close enough to mine, for our purposes." His fingers tied an efficient knot. "There, finished."

The Doctor made a face and tugged at his queue. "It's a little tight. I don't know why we have to bother with all of this, this subterfuge." He waved his hands about as if to point to exactly where said subterfuge was to be found. The actual result was a rather energetic flapping. "I think it would be better all-round if we just greeted the Captain and explained our business here. I'm sure he'd understand. What do you think, Charley?"

"I think," she said, drawing the words out, "that you're lucky that you get to leave the TARDIS. I'm the one who's stuck here without a convenient twin to play prince and pauper with."

"A naval ship is no place for a woman," said William. Charley rolled her eyes.

"Yes, and neither was an airship. That didn't stop me from a little subterfuge of my own," she retorted. This William fellow might have been the Doctor's twin in body, but he could certainly use a bit of work on matching his attitude.

"I'm afraid he's right, Charley." She rolled her eyes again. Now they were both at it.

"Yes yes, I heard you the first five times. If it's so dangerous, you'd better be careful yourself, Doctor. William's Captain sounds like trouble to me."

"Charley, I live on trouble!" The Doctor grinned broadly. Her warning was just encouraging him, she could tell. Bloody incorrigible Time Lord.

William cleared his throat.

"Captain Sawyer," he said, "is a good man. A good man who has given his life in service and cannot bring himself to accept that even the strongest must someday rest." His expression was somber, and his eyes held a distant sadness. "He does not know himself, and would not know you as friend rather than foe."

The Doctor put a comforting hand on William's shoulder, and gave him his best reassuring smile. Then he plucked the hat off of William's head and put it on his own, tilting it at a jaunty angle. William frowned, then reached up and straightened it.

"Are you two quite finished?"

"Yes, Charley," they replied in unison. Amused, they turned to her and grinned matching grins. She shook her head and tried not to smile back; they didn't need any more encouragement.

The Doctor straightened himself up, attempted the most calm, William-like expression that he could, and strode towards the TARDIS console. He pulled the lever that opened the wide doors that lead to the hold of the Renown and strode towards them.

"Don't wait up," he said, eyes twinkling. He disappeared into the outside world, leaving Charley and William alone in the TARDIS.

"Fancy a cup of tea?" she asked.

"By chance would you happen to have biscuits to go with that?"

"And cucumber sandwiches, if you like. The TARDIS has everything."

William thought of months at sea, of hard tack and the complete absence of anything resembling fresh food. His stomach grumbled.

"Everything?" he asked, his voice eager. Charley leaned in conspiratorially.

"Everything." She took his hand and pulled him towards one of the many corridors that lead out of the control room. "If the Doctor's going to leave us stuck in here, I'm sure he won't mind if we have a few bites to eat in the kitchen."

William hummed in agreement, and let himself be pulled.

The Master loved Gallifrey. He loved its unimaginable, unlimited power. He loved the way the central towers hummed with energy. Its very existence controlled the entirety of space-time, made clocks run forwards and galaxies grow in ever-expanding swirls. As a youth, he would sneak out at night and lay on his back in the central plaza, feeling the slight vibrations in the ground beneath him, peering up at the countless stars overhead.

What a pity that such wonders were wasted on Gallifreyans.

It wasn’t that he’d set out to conquer the universe. At first it was a game to see how much power he could snatch before one of those small-minded fools that ran the High Council caught wind of it and tried to stop him. At first the back-stabbing and manipulations of Gallifreyan society politics were enough for him, the looks of terrible submission on his enemies’ faces as he lorded over them deliciously sweet.

But after a century or so, he began to yearn for something grander. So what if Gallifrey was the center of the universe? The universe was filled with alien races who’d never even heard of the Time Lords, because the Time Lords hid from their power like weaklings. He was more than those pathetic, self-proclaimed lords of time.

He was the Master, and he would not settle for non-interference in the name of dusty ideals. He would not limit himself to one planet, one culture. He would snatch power from hundreds of worlds, gather strength that those unimaginative politicians could only dream of. Like Rassilon, he would bend time to his will and remake the universe in his own image, and when the Time Lords caught wind of it he’d delight in seeing them try to stop him.

He stood in his control room, feeling the powerful vibrations in the floor beneath his feet, peering out at the countless stars through the TARDIS viewscreen. Space-time was at his mercy. Soon he would bask in the looks of terrible submission on alien faces, and taste the delicious sweetness of his dominion over all things.

A Vid I made over the summer is now available to the public!

beautiful.zip

It is clips from the Dr. Who Movie
to the music of Sarah Brightman's "It's a Beautiful Day"
which is an interesting take on Puccini's "One Fine Day" from Madame Butterfly.

Oho, you say, now I get it!

It finally made its way to the internet thanks to versaphile, bless her.

Large thank you to nostalgia and rach74 for the reads and the comments.

Title: Cleansing Fire
Rating: R
Characters: Eight and original male.
Author's notes: One of these days, I'll get the damn fic right. It's my dying wish.
Disclaimer: All BBC, none of mine. If it was mine, do you really think I'd be writing fic?

**

“How does one do this?”

It was an introspective question asked not to a friend, not to a stranger, nor even to an expert in any field. It was mumbled, quiet, in the stillness of the moonlit room to his reflection.

His reflection obviously had nothing to relate, nothing to say. Pale, almost gaunt, swathed in white, his reflection was a specter, a shell, the left over from a flame that had burned too brightly, too quickly. His blue eyes reflected back at him not wonder, nor intelligence; they showed pain and anguish.

Cold, almost too cold fingers attempted to button his shirt, but he just couldn’t seem to find the buttonholes. Finally, both he and his reflection opted to let it lie open, lifeless, on his chest. That, of course, preempted his tying the cravat.

His reflection seemed to show growing boredom on its face about his dressing habits and he sighed, agreeing with it, and just let his state of dress be. It was only a distracting thing, dressing. It was keeping him from thinking again how humans or any race did this.

He looked past his reflection, past his curling, long hair, past the blue eyes that seemed too soft for his face, to the glowing, fiery landscape outside. Eros Five was a volcanic planet. It was in constant upheaval. But when he had set the TARDIS down here, it seemed that the End of Days was upon the planet and its inhabitants. And of course, it wasn’t the best time to lose the TARDIS, but it had happened.

His eyes watched the lava flows below. A flare of molten fire and his face was suddenly illuminated in glowing red and orange. The planet only had hours. He knew enough geophysics to see that obvious fact. And yet, what had he done? He had helped many to vacate the planet. He had helped many to find the directions needed. But there were quite a few that would never leave, and he knew he couldn’t force them to.

They had stayed on and so had he.

Rustling of the sheets on the bed behind him made him turn to contemplate the occupant of the bed. His name was Edward. A geophysicist himself, the man had tried in vain to warn his people for years of the coming apocalypse. He had given up, knowing there was nothing to do, in the end. They had stood on the observation tower at the largest land breach. Together they had watched the fountains, the rivers, the growing ocean of magma and lava as it covered the land and vaporized the sea.

There was nothing to do. All civilizations had their ups and downs. One often read about it books. But in his life, in his time, he had seen too many. But this time, he witnessed in through the pair of youngish brown eyes in the man’s face. It had surprised him, the happiness Edward had in his voice when he had said, quietly, that it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. He had thought that only he saw it, this beauty of creative destruction.

The retreat to Edward’s apartment had led them through deserted streets where only litter kept vigil.

He had come to know this man in the last week, had considered him a friend. He had asked him to leave this gods forsaken planet to travel with him. But Edward had declined.

He had watched the man as he stood, illuminated in the light of lava. He had watched as Edward’s gentle face lost its laughter and joy at the site of creation; he had watched as his mouth had crumpled into a sad frown. He had watched as the tears began to fall. It seemed second nature to extend his arms, to hold the man from behind as he witnessed destruction.

The Doctor had learned that love often never came, and when it did, it often came for the wrong reasons. Love was often borne out of pain, out of loss, or out of anger. Seldom did it occur rightly. He knew the moment that Edward had turned to him that it wasn’t love. It was desperation; it was a need to not be alone. He had come to know the man, he had grown to call him friend; he couldn’t deny the need. It was all he truly had to offer for help.

Somehow uniforms and cravats were removed. He had laid Edward on the bed and tried to shush his tears away. Gentle teasing kisses on the lips, nips on the neck, the feeling of strong arms around his naked torso. It was all to make him not feel alone, wasn’t it?

The tears abated as moans began. It wasn’t a time to take or be taken, it was a time to share. He had given all that he could, the Doctor thought. He had given pleasure, had heard it eked out in the other man’s voice. He still could taste the salt of sweat and come on his tongue. He had forgotten how it had tasted. It wasn’t just fluid; it was pure pleasure. He had even forgotten how skin tasted rough; how moans were meant to be felt and not heard.

He had even forgotten how it felt to have a man’s hands burrow through his hair to hold him tight against a body.

A lesson learned in the face of disaster, the Doctor thought wryly. This is not something to forget.

“But how does one do this?” he asked again, this time to the man lying naked in the bed.
The man didn’t stir. The Doctor gazed at his naked back, his long legs stretched out under the stark white sheet. It would be a long while before he would forget the touches, the feeling of strong tough and yet soft skin under his hands, forget the feel of holding another man’s body in his hands and gazing into another’s man eyes to see them staring blankly at their own mortality.

The Doctor reached over to gather his green frock coat in hand. He supposed his reflection would tell him what Edward would have if he were awake. One just does it; one just walks out the door. There was nothing else for him to do. Good-bye was anti-climatic, achingly lacking.

That was how one did it, he thought suddenly. He glanced at the fiery landscape again. Goodbye was not easily muttered in a bedroom. With a sad glance at Edward, the Doctor turned and walked to the door. For a moment, the reflection of the window was shattered by the hallway’s harsh light flooding in but then it subsided as the bedroom plunged into darkness again.

The Doctor stood outside the door finally finding the strength in his hands to button his shirt and tie the cravat. He hesitated, but then plunged ahead, walking quickly before his conscience could make him go back. It was better this way, but he would never quite understand why.

Insanity struck. Forgive me.

( It involves a bathtub and a duck named Herbie... )

I honestly don't know what came over me. I hope it never, ever does again.

(This was originally started as a drabble for the dw100 food challenge, and then it got a bit longer than 100 words.)

( Mushrooms )

Fic. Spoilery for EDAs.

( here you go... )

Title: Butterflies
Author: Severa
Pairing: Eight/Charley
Rating: G

A/N: While reading the novels the "Butterfly Room" was just the cutest thing. So I knew I had to get Charley in there. This fic is also partly a Birthday Present to versaphile so I hope it doesn't suck.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
( Butterflies )

nothingbutfic's fic this morning reminded me that I have had this lying around on my hard drive for I refuse to admit how long.

( Crumble Cake (R, Ace/Benny, NA continuity somewhere between Deceit and TLHH; learning to share.) )