x_losfic: (Default)

Title: Silver Bells, and Cockle Shells (coda to Quite Contrary)

Author: [personal profile] x_los 

Rating: PG

Pairing:  Ten/Simm!Master, girl!Doctor/girl!Master

Summary: Yet more morning after fluff!

A/N: request for [personal profile] order_of_chaos. Title from nursery rhyme "Mistress Mary, Quite Contrary," like the first one.



 

x_losfic: (Default)

Title: Silver Bells, and Cockle Shells (coda to Quite Contrary)

Author: [personal profile] x_los 

Rating: PG

Pairing:  Ten/Simm!Master, girl!Doctor/girl!Master

Summary: Yet more morning after fluff!

A/N: request for [personal profile] order_of_chaos. Title from nursery rhyme "Mistress Mary, Quite Contrary," like the first one.



 

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.”

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