eleventh_doctor: (watching the ceiling cat watching you)
Time doesn’t run linearly, of course. Just because a Doctor occupies one point in time and space, doesn’t mean she can’t be occupying others simultaneously. Ten years is a long time.

He sits at her table, not the other way around. The reasons blur over time, but she thinks it was because she looked a little lonely. He smiles brightly, and chatters, and offers her a pastry. She buys him a cuppa, and the pastries, too, so he won’t have to steal money from a bank machine this time.

He chats with her for an hour, and then runs off to save the world (again).


)No.
Not quite.(


every angel is terrifying. )



Community: [livejournal.com profile] theatrical_muse
Prompt: 316 - What were you doing ten years ago?
Word count: 895
Author's note: This was supposed to be a silly Doctor&Doctor catch-up fic. My brain had other ideas. Sulk.
eleventh_doctor: (headtilt weighing options)
That ball of fire that sits beside me-
He beats the earth, and Jesus loves him.
His days are long, his bones are broken;
I served him right, I go to heaven.



Their relationship is like a dance, twisting, turning. A long dance over the ages, a tango, a waltz, a swing step. The music changes, the partners age – a beard there, a new gender here– but the dance lives on.

They’re dancing now. He twirls her on the down-beat, almost enough force applied to dislocate her arm. In a minute, she’s in a position to snap his neck – muscle memory changes, but the memory of Venusian Aikido doesn’t die. They smile, and make it look so effortless that no one can tell the work going into their steps. It’s a fight in disguise. It always has been.

I go with him. )
eleventh_doctor: (doctor and master)

except for some stubborn leaves (or, Domesticity for Dummies)

The Doctor is sprawled out on the grass, chin propped up in her hands as she listens to the soft tinkling of wind chimes in the distance, birds singing in counterpoint. Leaves born by gentle breezes paint swirls of colour on the wind; the overall effect is quite lovely.

“You realise, of course,” she says, “that this makes it a full month since you last tried to kill me.”

Her companion, clad all in black despite the hot suns in the sky, is seated stiffly with a tree trunk at his back. “Is that why you called for this ridiculous picnic?”

“It’s not ridiculous,” she answers, just a little bit hurt. “It’s quite nice, and I made sandwiches.”

As one, they turn their heads to examine the contents of the picnic basket. Several of the sandwiches appear to have grown legs, and are attempting to crawl away.

“Well,” the Doctor says, “I made them at some point.”

The two fall into silence as the Master uses his laser screwdriver to reduce the sandwiches to something resembling fried jelly.

“Well.” the Doctor says again, filling in the conversation lull, “I brought cheese, too, and apples.”

The Master fixes her with this look, this look that’s somewhere between frustration and horror and exasperation and just a touch of fondness (or so she likes to think). “Doctor,” he says, “if you attempt to feed me any more of your picnic lunch, I will slip aspirin into it.”

She rolls over onto her side and fixes him with the saddest face she can muster. “You don’t mean that.”

“Oh, but I do,” he says, and stands, wiping miniscule amounts of dirt from his clothing with gloved hands. “And I think I’ll be taking my leave from this ridiculous affair. Good day, Doctor.”

She means to object, she really does, but at that very moment, the tree the Master had been sitting against falls towards her. Only her fast reflexes prevent her from becoming a Doctor pancake.

“And I believe you’ll find it’s been five seconds, not a month, my dear Doctor,” the Master calls, without bothering to turn back.

She pushes a hefty tree branch off her stomach and huffs. “Git.”



Community: [livejournal.com profile] theatrical_muse
Prompt: 288 - Is redemption truly possible?
Word count: 367
eleventh_doctor: (in the end life's too short)
“Across the dimensions,” she begins dreamily, looking at the Doctor but not quite seeing, “there’s a man called the Patrician. He re-shaped Gallifrey in his own image, taught them not to interfere with the universe, to watch and guide it as it grew. He brought peace to the Time Lords, the Daleks, and the Cybermen.” The gun rocks slowly in her hands as they shake, sometimes pointing to the Doctor’s head, sometimes to her hearts, but always to the Doctor. “He destroys without taking a life.”

The Doctor twists her wrists in their bonds, but the knots are unlike anything she’s encountered before. “Just let me go. I can help if you let me go.”

She smiles without joy; a few locks of blonde hair fall over her face. She’s pretty, if you don’t notice the scars, or how her blue eyes always appear to be re-writing the universe they see. “I can’t go home without destroying the universe, Doctor.” Her voice, too, is pretty, almost musical. “That’s what you told me.”

'You know it, too,” the Doctor says, inching her fingers painfully slowly to her jacket, with all its wonderful little tools. “It would fracture both our universes.' )


Community: [livejournal.com profile] theatrical_muse
Prompt: 56 - What would a description of your *exact opposite* be like?
Word count: 823
Note: With special guest appearance by Tupu!Master!
eleventh_doctor: (pup wishes to specify DOCTOR; not nurse)
D'you remember back when I posted that article about the Christmas special, with the two leaked pictures? Right, well, I dug deep into the internets and unearthed three more pictures. Two for the Christmas special, one for the new series.

The least spoiler-y, the new promo shot!

Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket

Srsly, Master, watch out for those women.

Slightly more spoilerish screencap(s) behind cut, and MORE spoilers related to the new series. )

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