x_losfic: (Eight)
Written as part of an on-going competition to out-crack [profile] gothic_hamlet. Sorry about 3 little postlets in one day! *boggles* I'm never as much of an f-list clog as this!

Title: Less Subtle

Author: [personal profile] x_los 

Rating: R

Pairing: Ten/Master

Summary: Ten/Laser Screwdriver (which is actually less dildo-esque than the TCE). Title is from the flavor-text of the Laser Screwdriver toy advertisement, which describes it as a less subtle version of the Doctor's Sonic Screwdriver.

Exactly 100 words, excepting the title.


This was bad. This was psychotic, co-dependent, ‘nowhere near the appropriate stages of grief’ bad. You were supposed to write Year of Magical Thinking, or up stakes to Boca, not—

He eased the tool in. Bigger and better than his, as the Master had (repeatedly) observed on the Valliant. Ribbed with none-too-subtle ridges, as if it were designed with this, with him, in mind. Considering all the times the Master had violated him in the manner he was trying so desperately to recreate, it probably had been. He choked on a laugh. The Master had been right. Who’d have sonic?




Title: "No, Seriously, The Enemy Within"

Author: [personal profile] x_los 

Rating: R

Pairing:  Eight/Master

Summary: Eight/Goosnake!Master (oh sweet god no)

Exactly 100 words, excepting the title.



“How did you manage to take snake form?” the Doctor panted, “Or escape the Eye of Harmony? Or—”

“Shhh,” the Master hissed (It might have just been ‘Sssss’—hard to tell.). As a gooey cobra, he twined up into the Doctor in ways he’d never managed while anthropomorphic.

“Guh!” the Doctor squeaked, struggling, pawing at the toolbox he’d brought to fix the Eye for leverage. The strong serpentine body curled around his leg had other plans. It snapped him back, slinked from his arse and gagged him until he lost consciousness.

The Master slithered off to restore his body, smugly satisfied.
x_losfic: (Eight)
Written as part of an on-going competition to out-crack [profile] gothic_hamlet. Sorry about 3 little postlets in one day! *boggles* I'm never as much of an f-list clog as this!

Title: Less Subtle

Author: [personal profile] x_los 

Rating: R

Pairing: Ten/Master

Summary: Ten/Laser Screwdriver (which is actually less dildo-esque than the TCE). Title is from the flavor-text of the Laser Screwdriver toy advertisement, which describes it as a less subtle version of the Doctor's Sonic Screwdriver.

Exactly 100 words, excepting the title.


This was bad. This was psychotic, co-dependent, ‘nowhere near the appropriate stages of grief’ bad. You were supposed to write Year of Magical Thinking, or up stakes to Boca, not—

He eased the tool in. Bigger and better than his, as the Master had (repeatedly) observed on the Valliant. Ribbed with none-too-subtle ridges, as if it were designed with this, with him, in mind. Considering all the times the Master had violated him in the manner he was trying so desperately to recreate, it probably had been. He choked on a laugh. The Master had been right. Who’d have sonic?




Title: "No, Seriously, The Enemy Within"

Author: [personal profile] x_los 

Rating: R

Pairing:  Eight/Master

Summary: Eight/Goosnake!Master (oh sweet god no)

Exactly 100 words, excepting the title.



“How did you manage to take snake form?” the Doctor panted, “Or escape the Eye of Harmony? Or—”

“Shhh,” the Master hissed (It might have just been ‘Sssss’—hard to tell.). As a gooey cobra, he twined up into the Doctor in ways he’d never managed while anthropomorphic.

“Guh!” the Doctor squeaked, struggling, pawing at the toolbox he’d brought to fix the Eye for leverage. The strong serpentine body curled around his leg had other plans. It snapped him back, slinked from his arse and gagged him until he lost consciousness.

The Master slithered off to restore his body, smugly satisfied.
x_losfic: (Default)
The milled porridge was a warm salty weight in his mouth. He tongued the soft, buttery lump, licking traces from his lips.

“Oh Doctor,” he moaned, “you were so right—breakfast of champions.”

“And are you sorry for mocking a ‘silly human regional peccadillo,’ just because you didn’t understand it?”

“So penitent I might be willing to demonstrate my appreciation of salty flavors. It’s only been a few hours, but do you, like the South, rise again?”

“Shush or you’ll see less action than Maine did.”

“And here I was hoping you’d take me like Sherman through Georgia.”

“…I hate you.”
x_losfic: (Default)
The milled porridge was a warm salty weight in his mouth. He tongued the soft, buttery lump, licking traces from his lips.

“Oh Doctor,” he moaned, “you were so right—breakfast of champions.”

“And are you sorry for mocking a ‘silly human regional peccadillo,’ just because you didn’t understand it?”

“So penitent I might be willing to demonstrate my appreciation of salty flavors. It’s only been a few hours, but do you, like the South, rise again?”

“Shush or you’ll see less action than Maine did.”

“And here I was hoping you’d take me like Sherman through Georgia.”

“…I hate you.”
x_losfic: (Ten)
Society for Creative Anachronism: Ten and Ainley!Master do the Ren Faire

The Doctor laughed for five minutes solid as the Master tugged his silver-encrusted collar, attempting to wait out the humiliation.

“Let me guess: you come here to feel impressive because you’re more historically accurate?”

“And better dressed,” the Master growled.

“You’re such an anorak!”

“And you’re here, glomping me, because you appreciate turkey legs and over-priced ciders, or because you’ve lost me to some catastrophe and in a fit of remorse you’re violating your own time line to track me down?”

The Doctor winced visibly. Coughed.

“Wanna go correct anal-retentive SCA members?”

Smirk. “Why Doctor, I thought you’ve never ask.”


Golden Retriever (I was thinking of Girl!Crack and their dog)


“You can’t feed the dog on dreams, Doctor, it’s not one of your insipid companions. Eventually you’re going to cave and go to the Tesco.”

“I’m never leaving the bed. You’ll have to build extensions onto the frame and headboard if there’s anything you expect me to do.”

“I know I’m exquisitely good, but even I’m not a replacement for Alpo.”

“Why’d we get a dog anyway?”

“You said if you were doing domestic you were going all out.”

The Doctor groaned into the pillow, defeated. “Fine. Let’s hope I can find money.”

"Oh don't fret, Doctor. I have coupons!"




And I'm going to re-watch Ghost Busters before writing Martha Saves Manhattan.
x_losfic: (Ten)
Society for Creative Anachronism: Ten and Ainley!Master do the Ren Faire

The Doctor laughed for five minutes solid as the Master tugged his silver-encrusted collar, attempting to wait out the humiliation.

“Let me guess: you come here to feel impressive because you’re more historically accurate?”

“And better dressed,” the Master growled.

“You’re such an anorak!”

“And you’re here, glomping me, because you appreciate turkey legs and over-priced ciders, or because you’ve lost me to some catastrophe and in a fit of remorse you’re violating your own time line to track me down?”

The Doctor winced visibly. Coughed.

“Wanna go correct anal-retentive SCA members?”

Smirk. “Why Doctor, I thought you’ve never ask.”


Golden Retriever (I was thinking of Girl!Crack and their dog)


“You can’t feed the dog on dreams, Doctor, it’s not one of your insipid companions. Eventually you’re going to cave and go to the Tesco.”

“I’m never leaving the bed. You’ll have to build extensions onto the frame and headboard if there’s anything you expect me to do.”

“I know I’m exquisitely good, but even I’m not a replacement for Alpo.”

“Why’d we get a dog anyway?”

“You said if you were doing domestic you were going all out.”

The Doctor groaned into the pillow, defeated. “Fine. Let’s hope I can find money.”

"Oh don't fret, Doctor. I have coupons!"




And I'm going to re-watch Ghost Busters before writing Martha Saves Manhattan.

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