Possible Post Crane-Wife Projects
Feb. 5th, 2010 02:13 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
x_losficI cleaned up my documents folder today and made a LIST OF TERROR for my discussion with my beta as to follow-up projects after Crane Wife.
In-progress (17): excluding all random notes, this is the folder of fics—however long or short they may currently be—that I essentially have fully developed, idea-wise
Bad, Bad Things (Five/Koschei) (36)
“He is running an errand alone. The Doctor loves his companions, of course he does, but occasionally the flash and bluster of young people banging about is hard on his seven-hundred-year-old nerves.”
Imaginary Numbers (Cambridge Math Professors Human AU—Five/Delgado!Master) (1,812)
“Oakden sat with a sigh, flicking out a napkin to cover his lap with a deft snap of his wrist. The gesture apparently amused John, who smiled and, nearly mockingly, copied it.
“So,” John leaned forward, impatient to begin, “This is, I think, the part of the evening in which we discuss our backgrounds. Shall I get you started? Your mother was a Russian physicist, but you were born in Cambridge.”
Oakden quirked an eyebrow. “You’ve done your research, I see.”
“You haven’t?” John seemed almost to pout at the implication of such negligent disinterest.
“On the contrary, my dear. You went to Eton, where you were universally called ‘Theta,’ you live in Trinity College, you’re an only child, and this,” he indicated the table, “is, I’m told, quite out of character for you.”
John frowned. “I assume you don’t mean the Burgundy? Admittedly I’m usually a Syrah man, but I did ask the steward which you typically bought.”
“As a matter of fact, I had your old mathematics master down for dinner earlier this week. We happen to be old accquaintences—”
John, who’d been taking a sip of said Burgundy, put the glass down and laughed. “You assumed I went ‘round propositioning my professors regularly?””
Five Times Lord Braxiatel Had Occasion to Regret The Doctor’s Exile Very Deeply Indeed (And One Time He Wished The Doctor Would Just Sod Off Forever)
(Brax, Susan, Romana, Leela, Various D/M) (3,817)
““Doctor,” Braxiatel grit through his teeth, “when can we expect Romanadvoratrelundar back? Her House is deeply concerned. I assure you the High Council’s threat to track you is far from idle posturing.”
“Ah,” the Doctor finally managed to produce an abashed expression, “I don’t think that’ll be necessary after all, Brax. I’m afraid that’s what I was calling about. Now, she’s perfectly safe, but I told Romana all about your message. ‘Romana’ I said, ‘there’s nothing for it, you’ll just have to go back and tell them what you’ve been up to.’ Poor girl, it broke her hearts, the idea of giving up the adventuring life in the TARDIS with me—”
“Are you approaching anything like a point, Doctor?”
“Elliptically!” The Doctor gave him a wounded look, which Braxiatel humored with about as much open-minded consideration as he’d spare for a Dalek personal ad.
“I feel certain the remainder of this story can be compressed into one sentence.” From an upper desk drawer, Braxiatel pulled out the remote capable of hurtling the Doctor’s TARDIS into the center of the Panopticon. He raised an eyebrow.
Recognizing it, the Doctor swallowed. “Romana didn’t want to come back to Gallifrey and chose to stay behind in an alternate universe with a robot dog.””
Exquisite Corpse (Three, Five, Eight, Delgado!Master, Ainley!Master) (5,410)
“ “If you loved me you’d kill me.” The Doctor’s insistent voice faltered as the Master finally turned to face him. “The next regeneration might well be uncorrupted. I know you’ve tried everything, you must have. I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t presume you’d exhausted our options. But you have to let go of me. And if the next regenerations are flawed as well—” the Doctor swallowed, “you’ll simply have to—” ”
Let No Man (Marriage Crack Sequel) (Five/Ainley!Master) (20,773 + 2,860 + 2,111 = 25,744+264)
“Something kindled in Leela’s imagination, awakening hitherto unsuspected sensibility. “It is just like Romeo and Juliet!”
The Doctor gave her a very worried look, operating the final door code panel that would give them entrance into the heart of the house. “How so?”
“Doctor!” Leela gave him a shocked look. “How can you not know it? It is a very old story!”
“Humor me, Leela.”
“Very well then, I shall tell it to you. Two warriors, both alike in dignity—Romeo and Juliet, by name, have been fighting for some years over various points of honor. They are both members of the tribe Infairveronawherewelayourscene,”
“Wait just a moment—”
“Doctor,” Leela glared severely, “It is rude to interrupt a storyteller. Their Chief thinks such a disagreement unbecoming of warriors of the same tribe, especially the bravest and most skilled among his people. They find, in the enforced peace, that they have a great respect for each other’s bravery and strength, and marry.”
Warden!fic (Five/Ainley!Master) (7,030)
“The Master had rarely looked quite so furious. His own breathing was strained, and he was directing an expression of loathing at the Doctor. It was so intense that the man felt, in his artfully rolled up shirtsleeves, with his passion-mussed hair, his red, bite-tender lower lip, cradling his right arm, like an idiot and a bastard and something of a whore.
There’d been a certain unstated tension between them since boyhood. They’d never explicitly said or done anything about it, and the Doctor had never overtly resorted to using it against the Master. Perhaps he’d touched the man or indulged him with admiration to distract him at a crucial moment, but the Doctor had never moved beyond those boundaries into any kind of admission. He’d never called the Master out on that score, never fully exploited the weakness. Never been willing to quite confront it as a motivating factor behind the other man’s actions, or acknowledge, even in the privacy of his own mind, the extent to which he might be prey to a similar fascination.”
Unnamed Large Russia (Three/Master) (with Crossovers) (3,543)
““How could you possibly know I would come this way? He asked, shoving his case under a bench and not looking at the other occupant, who sat on the bench as comfortably and commandingly as if he really were a Prince here. The Doctor was annoyed at himself for not noticing the Master’s distinct psychic presence at the station, though they must have been close if the Master could follow and ask for a ticket in the same cabin as him. The Master smiled lightly, seeming to stare down at the book in his lap, though the Doctor knew full well he hadn’t been reading it.
“You used to have big picture books in your room of Earth trains. You said you wanted to be a conductor once, when we were at your parent’s house and you showed me your toys. I asked why you’d ever want to waste yourself doing something so primitive and stupid. You cried and wouldn’t talk to me for an hour, not even when I said I was sorry. You insisted you hated me. Your mother had to make you apologize for being rude to a guest. I remember, if you don’t.” The Master leaned his head back against the cushion, with no expression on his face. “It was the first time I ever made you cry.” He paused, shut the book in his lap, smiled again at nothing. “Doctor, really. Of course I knew you’d take the train.””
Gift Economy (Five/Ainley!Master) (10,988)
“The Master broke the tension. “We might as well be in Surrey anyway. How typical of you to pick a planet that’s identical to Earth and declare you’ve discovered paradise.”
“Now wait a moment, the Eye of Orion’s entirely--”
“Will you admit that there are gently rolling, verdant hills?”
“Well yes, but—”
“Will you concede the presence of picturesque ruined castles?”
“Oh of course there are—”
“Are its major attractions a sense of bucolic peace and an extensive network of footpaths and bridleways?”
The Doctor bristled. “It’s not the same at all. It’s nothing like Earth! You just don’t appreciate the subtle differences.”
The Master rolled his eyes. “I don’t know how they ever manage to prize you off the Home Counties.”
“Usually with color brochures of the Lake District,” the Doctor shot back. “Have you any constructive suggestions, or are you just going to insult mine?””
Splatter Pattern (Theta/Koschei) (463)
“They’d both believed that achieving understanding was important, that mastering a situation was impossible without minds sharp and refined as cut diamonds. They cut their mental baby teeth on all the old, memorable crimes of the galaxy that had never been solved for lack of evidence or a deficit of investigative intelligence. Eons of vice had been food for a brief, frantic hobby that their insular classmates, who believed the world began and ended at the sides of the Capitol dome, thought completely eccentric.”
The One With Russ (Three/Master, Warchief) (3,872)
“Trailing various expressions of indignation, the Doctor accompanied the War Chief. The Master, the Brigadier and Jo were left in their incomplete tableaux. The Master whirled to face Jo. “Any idiot can threaten to simply annihilate the Doctor and what’s precious to him from the air. You think I haven’t thought of carpet-bombing London? It lacks finesse. It’s a sensationalist trick, unworthy of a real contest of wills.”
“Not quite the thing, no.” Lethbridge-Stewart put in dryly.
“His hair is ludicrous!” He still appealed to Jo, expression more animated by anxiousness than Jo usually saw it. “Miss Grant, surely you would agree that it’s just unfortunate, and nearly painful to look at.”
Jo gave him that “The side burns were a bit mad.””
Kidnapping fic (Three/Master) (1,746)
“The Master gave him a shocked, somewhat goggle-eyed look, as if he’d been unexpectedly smacked. “Naturally I chose you! Disagreements aside, you’re—well.” The Master shrugged, a little baffled. “You must know that I regard you very highly. Who better to cheer myself up with? We were inseparable friends for centuries, after all.”
“Be that as it may, you currently spend half your time trying to kill me!”
“And you spend half your time turning your nose up at my offering you a half-share in the universe, but I’m willing to overlook it for the duration of what I’m sure will be our perfectly pleasant time traveling together.”
The Master stood and offered the Doctor his hand. The Doctor growled and tried to stand on his own. Too woozy, he quickly sat back down for an instant. After he’d caught his breath again, the Doctor, grudgingly grasping the Master’s forearm, hauled himself up. He held onto the other Time Lord for a minute until his head adjusted to the change in altitude, and then stepped back.
“So,” the Doctor winced, rubbing his head irritably, “I’m a little present from you to you, then? Some people just buy themselves flowers and hope for a brighter tomorrow, you know.””
Untitled, Ten/Yana, Ten/Jacobi!Master (137)
“Martha doesn’t notice the watch he fondles in the pocket of his waist coat, though Chantho’s noticed he’d developed a habit of constantly stroking it since the Doctor’s arrived, like something’s worrying at him.
The Doctor is only too pleased to offer Professor Yana and Chantho transportation to Utopia. The TARDIS isn’t very specific, however, and the end of the universe is a difficult placetime to navigate. When they land on Malcassario in their same position but several thousand years in the past. Chantho’s people are thriving and alive and seem to need a woman of her scientific talent. And a handsome young thing, by her species’ standards, takes quite a shine to her during the Doctor’s efforts to sort out the political problem they’ve stumbled upon.”
Bit of good Eight/Master (536)
““Excuse me?” And before the Master could answer, “No, no excuse me, Master, is that what you think we’re about? How infrequent our encounters are is no fault of mine—you can’t drop by for biscuits without doing something so morally reprehensible it terrifies me. And let me explain something else to you about—no,” the Doctor shoved the Master, who was struggling to sit up, back down with both hands, pinning him to the bed, “no I’m not nearly done yet, and you’re going to listen to me until I am perfectly convinced you’ve understood, is that clear enough for you? I adore you. You are my favorite person, bar none. When you hurt yourself or do something senseless or cruel it breaks my hearts, every time, and I never stop and say so because that’s not how we play our particular game, is it? “
Final Game, Part II (Three/Master)
Family of Blood thing (616—near done, needs revision) (never posted)
“John needed Joan to read that dairy of an unlived life, to absolve him of its contents, both written and secreted (implied, if only to him) between the anecdotes and images.
He wanted to love Joan. He would love her on the slightest pretext. He needed to prove to himself that he wasn’t the man with the magic ship, the man who’d looked on tempests and been shaken, the man who’d failed lifetimes ago and left a monster in his wake.
John Smith was going to do it right, be that ever-fixed mark. Be a husband, raise children, everything he should. He would never be as terrified by Joan as he was in love with her. She had no ambitions beyond tending her boys. John would promise her forever and keep it this time. And John wouldn’t need to dream of the stars. And John wouldn’t need to run.”
Spoiled for Choice: Rewrite and Finish (pretty much all D/M) (values are approximate, includes all notes: 687+5,377+320+3,356, 1,049+5,552+1,699+386+2,499+5,783+6,411+2,562+617+7,173+538+11,970+478+4,445+2,024+2,526+48+40+1,198 = 66,738)
“…And my magnifying glasses wouldn’t hurt, if you’ve any idea where I’ve put them.”
“Try your coat’s back pocket.”
A brief rustle of fabric, and the Master sounded a little amused.
“Point to you.”
“Well, I do spend an inordinate amount of time staring at your--” remembering Jo was in the room, even though she looked busy and thoroughly uninterested (and if she didn’t know they were having sex at this point, he worried about the state of her late marriage), he amended his sentence with a touch of ‘not in front of the children’ paternalism, “pockets. And I’m lovely at phone sex!” He hissed more quietly. “Which one of us thought it’d be clever to try to strangle the other with a sentient phone cord? Because that absolutely wins for missing the point.”
“It does not!” The Master huffed, now clearly welding something with a very small implement by the background noise, though how he was doing that one handed with a cell phone to his ear was a mystery to the Doctor. “That was quite sexy!”
“Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart walked in.”
“Oh.” He could hear the Master wincing. “That’s less so…”
Five/Shalka (113)
“He teetered between insular grief and the instinct to push forward, to force a calm, polie smile and deny that there was any grieving to be done. On nothing stronger than a whim, which gathered force and certainty as he expressed it, he gently, firmly told Peri Brown no. The last thing he needed, at just this moment, was the responsibility of taking on a new traveling companion. He dropped Peri off in Morocco with her friends, and retired to the Vortex for a spot of quiet contemplation.
His TARDIS seemed so empty, without Turlough. Without Tegan, or Nyssa, or Adric. He was, by now, unused to being alone. Another whim brought him—”
Revisions (21): things that have been posted in comments or on a kink meme and need cleaning up and reposting as proper fic
‘telepathic’ drabble (100)
“He craved that freedom like a drug. Touch me, he begged. He didn’t mean with flesh, though that collided in due course. Those sharp joys were all the better for being fleeting.”
‘Why I’m still alive’ indeed (Three/Delgado!Master) (2,219)
“Miss Grant’s voice droned from the CCTV as she detailed the stresses of her position as the Doctor’s pet human with admirable feeling. The poor Doctor was probably already asleep, given that it was nearly impossible for him to be simultaneously silent and conscious. But Miss Grant was apparently indefatigable. The Brigadier never gave her the off days she wanted: the world had a right to know. Not looking up at the image, the Master reached up and turned her down to a barely audible murmur—he’d see how long it took her to run out of steam.”
Adric (Five/Ainley!Master) (1,293)
“The Master grit his teeth, frustrated by the Doctor’s blunt assessment. It was true though. The window of time in which either of them could free himself was fast closing. The Doctor would watch his body rot on the wall, perhaps never realizing that the Master was anything other than a corpse—never grasping, in his regeneration-delerium, that he /knew/ that body. Wouldn’t know that it was ever the form of a man he had been acquainted with for centuries—a man who had been extraordinarily important to him, at that.
Being someone the Doctor could simply forget had never appealed to him.”
Aphrodisiac ficlet (Three/Master) (4,139)
““We need,” the Doctor breathed a moment, leaning against a tree, before beginning again, “we need to go back. To—to release the other subjects.”
The Master wheeled back to face him. “Come on, do you want to die with them? There’s nothing you can do! Take a look at yourself. How capable do you really feel of charging back down there, Doctor?”
The Doctor took his point, grudgingly. He stepped forward, only to nearly fall when a wave of dizziness swept over him, blurring his vision.
“I’m not—” the Doctor shook his head. “What was in—”
“We can’t know with any certainty until we’re back in my TARDIS.” The Master took a step back, grabbing the Doctor’s elbow.”
Brig fic augh why (Three/Master, Brig/Master) (2,217)
“The first time the Master visits the Doctor’s cell after he’s won, the Doctor is careful. He doesn’t goad him into anything. For the first time in all the Master’s visits his body language is entirely closed. His words are spare and don’t invite the arguments they like so much. Without specifically broaching the topic, the Doctor shuts the Master down.
The Doctor breathes relief when he’s gone, sitting back on the hard wood bench he’s expected to sleep on with his head in his hands. There are still bits of vinyl and tufts of white plastic stuffing clinging to the strips of dried, gunky adhesive at the bench’s edges. He expects the Master had some kind of cushion torn off the bench to make an alternative berth more appealing.”
Cheetah!Master/Eight (1,992)
“This was, he reminded himself, like that time he’d just had to know what the Master had been up to working with the Daleks, and had ended up accidentally-on-purpose leading him safely back to his TARDIS with just enough plausible deniability about having done so to stay in the black. Or like the time he’d lifted the Master from Rassilon’s Foul Prison in thanks for having actually come to save him in the Death Zone. Of course ‘Foul Prison’ turned out to be significantly less agonizing than expected, to the Doctor’s chagrin, and really ‘Rassilon’s Comfortable If Somewhat Demeaning Hospice Care For the Clinically Egomaniacal’ would have been a more apropos name, but it was the thought that counted, wasn’t it?”
Death (D/M generally) (1,817)
“Theta’s mother’s blue eyes (they were Theta’s eyes—this was the first time he’d recognized that) holding his, her thin, weak human hands clutching at his face, “Koschei, your mother is dead,” and he’d nodded solemnly and asked when she was expected to wake, when he could see her, assuming the lab accident had cost her a regeneration—the loss of the mother he’d known, and deeply sad, but not—and oh, how her little human mouth had trembled, and afterwards he’d imagined it was in amusement at his childish idiocy as much as with her effort not to cry, “No, no Koschei, not, not like—””
Three, Lumley!Doctor/Delgado!Master (3,376)
“While he waited, he browsed the Doctor’s library and, when he got hungry, took pleasure in composing a sandwich from the esoteric ingredients available in the Doctor’s kitchen. He browsed the wardrobe room like a man in a department store, chuckling to himself at the more sartorially offensive pieces, lingering over an old academic robe of Theta’s he had indulged in a number of fantasies about back in their schooldays.
He busied himself in the Doctor’s labs for a good portion of the afternoon, appreciating, as he always did, the Doctor’s genius. He played with the Doctor’s gadgets. Childishly gleeful, he turned on a detector for something or other and gamely following its insistent beeps in an effort to discern what exactly it was supposed to detect. It gave a joyful ‘ding!’ when brought into contact with dark matter seepages, as it turned out. He pocketed the device. It was elegantly designed, and might well be useful to him someday.”
Five/Cheetah!Master (3,011)
““Here, kitty kitty,” he tried, lamely, dangling a bit of wire from the console enticingly and blushing a bit. In a supremely feline gesture that was not at all a product of biological alteration, the Master arched a curious eyebrow, as if amused by the display.”
Hold Still Eight/Jacobi!Master) (835)
“
“You always come back. It’s just, you know, a new body comes with all those new, fresh wants. You’re not around in my time line, and I just missed you, and your coat and your gloves and your stupid immobile hair and unrepentant smirk and indulgent taste in cosmetics. I thought maybe you might be interested in helping me deal with it? If I’m imposing I can just pop back to San Francisco—””
“In a few minutes time I’m going to create a diversion…” (Three/Delgado!Master) (1,335)
““I could, er, scream for help?” He wasn’t very enthused about the prospect—it would be awfully hard to summon up shrieking distress.
“Not a bad idea,” the Master mused. “Of course no one would come. The guard they’ve left has already kindly offered to shoot you—in the event that you prove non-cooperative, naturally—” the Master clarified. “And in order to convince me to tell him you’re being of use to me, you’d have to promise to be quite helpful indeed. Yes,” the Master considered it, crossing his arms over his chest with a grin, “Scream away, Doctor,” he invited with a gesture of his hand.
“Must you look so damn pleased with yourself?” The Doctor huffed.
“Be fair, Doctor,” His eyes were lidded, his voice dropped low, and he bent in to kiss the Doctor lightly on the lips, “I’m pleased with you, too.””
It’s a Bubble (Five/Simm!Master) (2,542)
““Having fun yet?” The Master sneered at the disheveled blond, who looked up at him, eyes flashing, and seemed to moan something indignant and ridiculous and so very him, some variant of “How could you?” perhaps, around the Master’s cock.
The Master shuddered and bucked his hips forward involuntarily. The Doctor’s indignation was something of an acquired kink of his.”
Jenny (Ten/Simm!Master) (2,233—NEEDS EXPANDED)
““We always wanted children,” the Master shook his head, rueful.
“I think I have an idea,” Jenny bubbled suddenly. Her father—probably because she was born after his breakdown, didn’t associate her with the trauma of the war. He would come running to her if she could get a distress signal out where he could find it. He would pry open his mind if she pretended to be mentally injured, to need psychic healing. And then the Master could enter that opened chink and have full access to the Doctor, and do absolutely anything he needed to do to heal him in turn.
The Master smiled indulgently as Jenny spun out the plan he’d been slowly working her towards. Her thinking it was all her idea was his favorite part.”
Lost Five/Ainley!Master (2,429—NEEDS EXPANDED)
“They still hadn’t found a source of comfortable fiber with which to make bedding (the polar bear sighted earlier had yet to reappear, though the Master seemed somewhat obsessed with finding and killing it, more because its inexplicable presence annoyed them than because he wanted to eat it, from what the Doctor could tell), and the island got uncomfortably cold at night. It must have been what passed for winter here.”
Observer Effect (Three/Master) (1,127)
“The Doctor’s only surprised for an instant to find the Master waiting for him in the Process Room, leaning against the wall in an indolent pose. Stupid, the Doctor thinks to himself, because the Master usually knows what he’ll do before the Doctor’s figured it out himself.
The Master’s had the luxury of looking at him from the outside, of making a study of him. He only sees the conclusions the Doctor comes to, the actions he decides to take. The Doctor oversees the messy business of reconciling his own scattered impulses and reaching those conclusions. Like an atom he can’t determine his momentum without altering his position—always too busy moving to form a clear idea of the path he takes. To himself he seems so indefinite.
It galls him to think that the Master must find him rather obvious.”
Revenant (Three/Crispy!Master) (1,775)
“The Master likes asparagus, and too-sweet rose lassi that leaves you choking in the cloying press of its floral stench. The Doctor, without a look of horror or pity or despair, careful now as he was careless before, raises the wet cloth he prepares with the breakfast tray in case of mishaps. He blots the Master’s lip with incredible gentleness. His soft ‘there’ is nearly just breath.
The Master, he thinks, as he watches the other man again lift the spoon, the belly of which is smeared with the Master’s blood, loves a very rare steak.”
Deathless (One/Master) (3,000)
“The blood-splattered myth of him was there when the Horde came, a relic of the Kievan Rus. The Slavs scared children over cooking fires with stories of an enchanter who disdained death. Who traveled vast, incomprehensible distances with the aid an unmatchable steed from a far away kingdom. A foul thing that cleft its heart from its body: magician-king, trickster, thief of girls. The Slavs were in those days suspicious of undue cleverness. The vile Koschei, it was said, had been cunning as sin.
This is what they remembered:
Buried in the black forest, a fortress unlike anything they’d ever seen. A castle built of golden metal, tipped with iron-dark spires that twisted up higher than the treetops. Those spires giddy with almost obscene embellishments, the metal curling wild and broad like something grown. No one but the sorcerer comprehended the purpose of the sharp profusion of adornments. Everyone felt their power. His peasants feared to even look at them, as if the sight alone of such strangeness could corrupt their eyes.”
Susan (One/War Chief!Master) (2,531)
“His old eyes are still adjusting when he hears Susan shriek “Grandfather!” Whip-fast the Doctor turns, wondering what she’s gotten herself into this time—that child is nearly as much of a handful as her father was. The Doctor was younger then--he’d found the rigors of childrearing that now exhaust him invigorating. And he’d hadn’t been the only one raising his son. Everything is harder alone.
He turns, resigned to extricating Susan from something nasty, only to start. His mouth opens in a whispered, uncontrollable denial when he realizes it isn’t him Susan is calling for.”
Downing Street (Ten/Simm!Master) (1,225)
““Shut up,” the other man grabbed the Doctor by the hair and turned his head to the side so he could suck and bite at his neck. The Doctor gasped and pounded a fist into the conference room’s wood paneling before he could wonder why a human knew to go for that spot.
“I’ve got more of those electric nets,” the other man’s words were poison, filtering out between frantic kisses on the Doctor’s face, coupled with too-eager hands ripping at the buttons of his coat, “all over the city, and I’ll kill everyone, Doctor,” teeth on his jugular, nipping lightly, the stranger snarling with need as he ineffectually tried to tug the Doctor’s coat off his back, hampered by the wall, “I’m not joking, everyone if you don’t cooperate. Wrap your legs around me. There’s a good boy.””
Keller Machine (Three/Master) (1,112)
“The Master is flicking at the dials with exaggerated slow precision.
“Look—” The Doctor begins. The Master turns his head to look at him, expression carefully neutral.
The Doctor swallows.
“Look. What would it take for you not to turn it on?””
Three/Ainley!Master (1,295)
“The Master thought he had the way out of the dungeon figured out right up until he turned a corner and found himself in yet another long bank of cells. He looked about wildly for an exit, eyes lighting on something entirely unexpected.
“Oh no,” the man chained to the wall had a look of horror on his face, as if he’d just discovered the tires of his beloved junker had all been slashed. Come to think of it, the Master really should have tried that. “Not you again!”
The Master opened his mouth to sneer that the Doctor’s presence, let alone this Doctor’s, wasn’t in any way improving his situation, but was incapacitated by a kosh to the back of his head before he could produce a witticism. Apparently his pursuers knew their own prison better than he did.”
In-progress (17): excluding all random notes, this is the folder of fics—however long or short they may currently be—that I essentially have fully developed, idea-wise
Bad, Bad Things (Five/Koschei) (36)
“He is running an errand alone. The Doctor loves his companions, of course he does, but occasionally the flash and bluster of young people banging about is hard on his seven-hundred-year-old nerves.”
Imaginary Numbers (Cambridge Math Professors Human AU—Five/Delgado!Master) (1,812)
“Oakden sat with a sigh, flicking out a napkin to cover his lap with a deft snap of his wrist. The gesture apparently amused John, who smiled and, nearly mockingly, copied it.
“So,” John leaned forward, impatient to begin, “This is, I think, the part of the evening in which we discuss our backgrounds. Shall I get you started? Your mother was a Russian physicist, but you were born in Cambridge.”
Oakden quirked an eyebrow. “You’ve done your research, I see.”
“You haven’t?” John seemed almost to pout at the implication of such negligent disinterest.
“On the contrary, my dear. You went to Eton, where you were universally called ‘Theta,’ you live in Trinity College, you’re an only child, and this,” he indicated the table, “is, I’m told, quite out of character for you.”
John frowned. “I assume you don’t mean the Burgundy? Admittedly I’m usually a Syrah man, but I did ask the steward which you typically bought.”
“As a matter of fact, I had your old mathematics master down for dinner earlier this week. We happen to be old accquaintences—”
John, who’d been taking a sip of said Burgundy, put the glass down and laughed. “You assumed I went ‘round propositioning my professors regularly?””
(Brax, Susan, Romana, Leela, Various D/M) (3,817)
““Doctor,” Braxiatel grit through his teeth, “when can we expect Romanadvoratrelundar back? Her House is deeply concerned. I assure you the High Council’s threat to track you is far from idle posturing.”
“Ah,” the Doctor finally managed to produce an abashed expression, “I don’t think that’ll be necessary after all, Brax. I’m afraid that’s what I was calling about. Now, she’s perfectly safe, but I told Romana all about your message. ‘Romana’ I said, ‘there’s nothing for it, you’ll just have to go back and tell them what you’ve been up to.’ Poor girl, it broke her hearts, the idea of giving up the adventuring life in the TARDIS with me—”
“Are you approaching anything like a point, Doctor?”
“Elliptically!” The Doctor gave him a wounded look, which Braxiatel humored with about as much open-minded consideration as he’d spare for a Dalek personal ad.
“I feel certain the remainder of this story can be compressed into one sentence.” From an upper desk drawer, Braxiatel pulled out the remote capable of hurtling the Doctor’s TARDIS into the center of the Panopticon. He raised an eyebrow.
Recognizing it, the Doctor swallowed. “Romana didn’t want to come back to Gallifrey and chose to stay behind in an alternate universe with a robot dog.””
Exquisite Corpse (Three, Five, Eight, Delgado!Master, Ainley!Master) (5,410)
“ “If you loved me you’d kill me.” The Doctor’s insistent voice faltered as the Master finally turned to face him. “The next regeneration might well be uncorrupted. I know you’ve tried everything, you must have. I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t presume you’d exhausted our options. But you have to let go of me. And if the next regenerations are flawed as well—” the Doctor swallowed, “you’ll simply have to—” ”
Let No Man (Marriage Crack Sequel) (Five/Ainley!Master) (20,773 + 2,860 + 2,111 = 25,744+264)
“Something kindled in Leela’s imagination, awakening hitherto unsuspected sensibility. “It is just like Romeo and Juliet!”
The Doctor gave her a very worried look, operating the final door code panel that would give them entrance into the heart of the house. “How so?”
“Doctor!” Leela gave him a shocked look. “How can you not know it? It is a very old story!”
“Humor me, Leela.”
“Very well then, I shall tell it to you. Two warriors, both alike in dignity—Romeo and Juliet, by name, have been fighting for some years over various points of honor. They are both members of the tribe Infairveronawherewelayourscene,”
“Wait just a moment—”
“Doctor,” Leela glared severely, “It is rude to interrupt a storyteller. Their Chief thinks such a disagreement unbecoming of warriors of the same tribe, especially the bravest and most skilled among his people. They find, in the enforced peace, that they have a great respect for each other’s bravery and strength, and marry.”
Warden!fic (Five/Ainley!Master) (7,030)
“The Master had rarely looked quite so furious. His own breathing was strained, and he was directing an expression of loathing at the Doctor. It was so intense that the man felt, in his artfully rolled up shirtsleeves, with his passion-mussed hair, his red, bite-tender lower lip, cradling his right arm, like an idiot and a bastard and something of a whore.
There’d been a certain unstated tension between them since boyhood. They’d never explicitly said or done anything about it, and the Doctor had never overtly resorted to using it against the Master. Perhaps he’d touched the man or indulged him with admiration to distract him at a crucial moment, but the Doctor had never moved beyond those boundaries into any kind of admission. He’d never called the Master out on that score, never fully exploited the weakness. Never been willing to quite confront it as a motivating factor behind the other man’s actions, or acknowledge, even in the privacy of his own mind, the extent to which he might be prey to a similar fascination.”
Unnamed Large Russia (Three/Master) (with Crossovers) (3,543)
““How could you possibly know I would come this way? He asked, shoving his case under a bench and not looking at the other occupant, who sat on the bench as comfortably and commandingly as if he really were a Prince here. The Doctor was annoyed at himself for not noticing the Master’s distinct psychic presence at the station, though they must have been close if the Master could follow and ask for a ticket in the same cabin as him. The Master smiled lightly, seeming to stare down at the book in his lap, though the Doctor knew full well he hadn’t been reading it.
“You used to have big picture books in your room of Earth trains. You said you wanted to be a conductor once, when we were at your parent’s house and you showed me your toys. I asked why you’d ever want to waste yourself doing something so primitive and stupid. You cried and wouldn’t talk to me for an hour, not even when I said I was sorry. You insisted you hated me. Your mother had to make you apologize for being rude to a guest. I remember, if you don’t.” The Master leaned his head back against the cushion, with no expression on his face. “It was the first time I ever made you cry.” He paused, shut the book in his lap, smiled again at nothing. “Doctor, really. Of course I knew you’d take the train.””
Gift Economy (Five/Ainley!Master) (10,988)
“The Master broke the tension. “We might as well be in Surrey anyway. How typical of you to pick a planet that’s identical to Earth and declare you’ve discovered paradise.”
“Now wait a moment, the Eye of Orion’s entirely--”
“Will you admit that there are gently rolling, verdant hills?”
“Well yes, but—”
“Will you concede the presence of picturesque ruined castles?”
“Oh of course there are—”
“Are its major attractions a sense of bucolic peace and an extensive network of footpaths and bridleways?”
The Doctor bristled. “It’s not the same at all. It’s nothing like Earth! You just don’t appreciate the subtle differences.”
The Master rolled his eyes. “I don’t know how they ever manage to prize you off the Home Counties.”
“Usually with color brochures of the Lake District,” the Doctor shot back. “Have you any constructive suggestions, or are you just going to insult mine?””
Splatter Pattern (Theta/Koschei) (463)
“They’d both believed that achieving understanding was important, that mastering a situation was impossible without minds sharp and refined as cut diamonds. They cut their mental baby teeth on all the old, memorable crimes of the galaxy that had never been solved for lack of evidence or a deficit of investigative intelligence. Eons of vice had been food for a brief, frantic hobby that their insular classmates, who believed the world began and ended at the sides of the Capitol dome, thought completely eccentric.”
The One With Russ (Three/Master, Warchief) (3,872)
“Trailing various expressions of indignation, the Doctor accompanied the War Chief. The Master, the Brigadier and Jo were left in their incomplete tableaux. The Master whirled to face Jo. “Any idiot can threaten to simply annihilate the Doctor and what’s precious to him from the air. You think I haven’t thought of carpet-bombing London? It lacks finesse. It’s a sensationalist trick, unworthy of a real contest of wills.”
“Not quite the thing, no.” Lethbridge-Stewart put in dryly.
“His hair is ludicrous!” He still appealed to Jo, expression more animated by anxiousness than Jo usually saw it. “Miss Grant, surely you would agree that it’s just unfortunate, and nearly painful to look at.”
Jo gave him that “The side burns were a bit mad.””
Kidnapping fic (Three/Master) (1,746)
“The Master gave him a shocked, somewhat goggle-eyed look, as if he’d been unexpectedly smacked. “Naturally I chose you! Disagreements aside, you’re—well.” The Master shrugged, a little baffled. “You must know that I regard you very highly. Who better to cheer myself up with? We were inseparable friends for centuries, after all.”
“Be that as it may, you currently spend half your time trying to kill me!”
“And you spend half your time turning your nose up at my offering you a half-share in the universe, but I’m willing to overlook it for the duration of what I’m sure will be our perfectly pleasant time traveling together.”
The Master stood and offered the Doctor his hand. The Doctor growled and tried to stand on his own. Too woozy, he quickly sat back down for an instant. After he’d caught his breath again, the Doctor, grudgingly grasping the Master’s forearm, hauled himself up. He held onto the other Time Lord for a minute until his head adjusted to the change in altitude, and then stepped back.
“So,” the Doctor winced, rubbing his head irritably, “I’m a little present from you to you, then? Some people just buy themselves flowers and hope for a brighter tomorrow, you know.””
Untitled, Ten/Yana, Ten/Jacobi!Master (137)
“Martha doesn’t notice the watch he fondles in the pocket of his waist coat, though Chantho’s noticed he’d developed a habit of constantly stroking it since the Doctor’s arrived, like something’s worrying at him.
The Doctor is only too pleased to offer Professor Yana and Chantho transportation to Utopia. The TARDIS isn’t very specific, however, and the end of the universe is a difficult placetime to navigate. When they land on Malcassario in their same position but several thousand years in the past. Chantho’s people are thriving and alive and seem to need a woman of her scientific talent. And a handsome young thing, by her species’ standards, takes quite a shine to her during the Doctor’s efforts to sort out the political problem they’ve stumbled upon.”
Bit of good Eight/Master (536)
““Excuse me?” And before the Master could answer, “No, no excuse me, Master, is that what you think we’re about? How infrequent our encounters are is no fault of mine—you can’t drop by for biscuits without doing something so morally reprehensible it terrifies me. And let me explain something else to you about—no,” the Doctor shoved the Master, who was struggling to sit up, back down with both hands, pinning him to the bed, “no I’m not nearly done yet, and you’re going to listen to me until I am perfectly convinced you’ve understood, is that clear enough for you? I adore you. You are my favorite person, bar none. When you hurt yourself or do something senseless or cruel it breaks my hearts, every time, and I never stop and say so because that’s not how we play our particular game, is it? “
Final Game, Part II (Three/Master)
Family of Blood thing (616—near done, needs revision) (never posted)
“John needed Joan to read that dairy of an unlived life, to absolve him of its contents, both written and secreted (implied, if only to him) between the anecdotes and images.
He wanted to love Joan. He would love her on the slightest pretext. He needed to prove to himself that he wasn’t the man with the magic ship, the man who’d looked on tempests and been shaken, the man who’d failed lifetimes ago and left a monster in his wake.
John Smith was going to do it right, be that ever-fixed mark. Be a husband, raise children, everything he should. He would never be as terrified by Joan as he was in love with her. She had no ambitions beyond tending her boys. John would promise her forever and keep it this time. And John wouldn’t need to dream of the stars. And John wouldn’t need to run.”
Spoiled for Choice: Rewrite and Finish (pretty much all D/M) (values are approximate, includes all notes: 687+5,377+320+3,356, 1,049+5,552+1,699+386+2,499+5,783+6,411+2,562+617+7,173+538+11,970+478+4,445+2,024+2,526+48+40+1,198 = 66,738)
“…And my magnifying glasses wouldn’t hurt, if you’ve any idea where I’ve put them.”
“Try your coat’s back pocket.”
A brief rustle of fabric, and the Master sounded a little amused.
“Point to you.”
“Well, I do spend an inordinate amount of time staring at your--” remembering Jo was in the room, even though she looked busy and thoroughly uninterested (and if she didn’t know they were having sex at this point, he worried about the state of her late marriage), he amended his sentence with a touch of ‘not in front of the children’ paternalism, “pockets. And I’m lovely at phone sex!” He hissed more quietly. “Which one of us thought it’d be clever to try to strangle the other with a sentient phone cord? Because that absolutely wins for missing the point.”
“It does not!” The Master huffed, now clearly welding something with a very small implement by the background noise, though how he was doing that one handed with a cell phone to his ear was a mystery to the Doctor. “That was quite sexy!”
“Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart walked in.”
“Oh.” He could hear the Master wincing. “That’s less so…”
Five/Shalka (113)
“He teetered between insular grief and the instinct to push forward, to force a calm, polie smile and deny that there was any grieving to be done. On nothing stronger than a whim, which gathered force and certainty as he expressed it, he gently, firmly told Peri Brown no. The last thing he needed, at just this moment, was the responsibility of taking on a new traveling companion. He dropped Peri off in Morocco with her friends, and retired to the Vortex for a spot of quiet contemplation.
His TARDIS seemed so empty, without Turlough. Without Tegan, or Nyssa, or Adric. He was, by now, unused to being alone. Another whim brought him—”
Revisions (21): things that have been posted in comments or on a kink meme and need cleaning up and reposting as proper fic
‘telepathic’ drabble (100)
“He craved that freedom like a drug. Touch me, he begged. He didn’t mean with flesh, though that collided in due course. Those sharp joys were all the better for being fleeting.”
‘Why I’m still alive’ indeed (Three/Delgado!Master) (2,219)
“Miss Grant’s voice droned from the CCTV as she detailed the stresses of her position as the Doctor’s pet human with admirable feeling. The poor Doctor was probably already asleep, given that it was nearly impossible for him to be simultaneously silent and conscious. But Miss Grant was apparently indefatigable. The Brigadier never gave her the off days she wanted: the world had a right to know. Not looking up at the image, the Master reached up and turned her down to a barely audible murmur—he’d see how long it took her to run out of steam.”
Adric (Five/Ainley!Master) (1,293)
“The Master grit his teeth, frustrated by the Doctor’s blunt assessment. It was true though. The window of time in which either of them could free himself was fast closing. The Doctor would watch his body rot on the wall, perhaps never realizing that the Master was anything other than a corpse—never grasping, in his regeneration-delerium, that he /knew/ that body. Wouldn’t know that it was ever the form of a man he had been acquainted with for centuries—a man who had been extraordinarily important to him, at that.
Being someone the Doctor could simply forget had never appealed to him.”
““We need,” the Doctor breathed a moment, leaning against a tree, before beginning again, “we need to go back. To—to release the other subjects.”
The Master wheeled back to face him. “Come on, do you want to die with them? There’s nothing you can do! Take a look at yourself. How capable do you really feel of charging back down there, Doctor?”
The Doctor took his point, grudgingly. He stepped forward, only to nearly fall when a wave of dizziness swept over him, blurring his vision.
“I’m not—” the Doctor shook his head. “What was in—”
“We can’t know with any certainty until we’re back in my TARDIS.” The Master took a step back, grabbing the Doctor’s elbow.”
Brig fic augh why (Three/Master, Brig/Master) (2,217)
“The first time the Master visits the Doctor’s cell after he’s won, the Doctor is careful. He doesn’t goad him into anything. For the first time in all the Master’s visits his body language is entirely closed. His words are spare and don’t invite the arguments they like so much. Without specifically broaching the topic, the Doctor shuts the Master down.
The Doctor breathes relief when he’s gone, sitting back on the hard wood bench he’s expected to sleep on with his head in his hands. There are still bits of vinyl and tufts of white plastic stuffing clinging to the strips of dried, gunky adhesive at the bench’s edges. He expects the Master had some kind of cushion torn off the bench to make an alternative berth more appealing.”
Cheetah!Master/Eight (1,992)
“This was, he reminded himself, like that time he’d just had to know what the Master had been up to working with the Daleks, and had ended up accidentally-on-purpose leading him safely back to his TARDIS with just enough plausible deniability about having done so to stay in the black. Or like the time he’d lifted the Master from Rassilon’s Foul Prison in thanks for having actually come to save him in the Death Zone. Of course ‘Foul Prison’ turned out to be significantly less agonizing than expected, to the Doctor’s chagrin, and really ‘Rassilon’s Comfortable If Somewhat Demeaning Hospice Care For the Clinically Egomaniacal’ would have been a more apropos name, but it was the thought that counted, wasn’t it?”
Death (D/M generally) (1,817)
“Theta’s mother’s blue eyes (they were Theta’s eyes—this was the first time he’d recognized that) holding his, her thin, weak human hands clutching at his face, “Koschei, your mother is dead,” and he’d nodded solemnly and asked when she was expected to wake, when he could see her, assuming the lab accident had cost her a regeneration—the loss of the mother he’d known, and deeply sad, but not—and oh, how her little human mouth had trembled, and afterwards he’d imagined it was in amusement at his childish idiocy as much as with her effort not to cry, “No, no Koschei, not, not like—””
Three, Lumley!Doctor/Delgado!Master (3,376)
“While he waited, he browsed the Doctor’s library and, when he got hungry, took pleasure in composing a sandwich from the esoteric ingredients available in the Doctor’s kitchen. He browsed the wardrobe room like a man in a department store, chuckling to himself at the more sartorially offensive pieces, lingering over an old academic robe of Theta’s he had indulged in a number of fantasies about back in their schooldays.
He busied himself in the Doctor’s labs for a good portion of the afternoon, appreciating, as he always did, the Doctor’s genius. He played with the Doctor’s gadgets. Childishly gleeful, he turned on a detector for something or other and gamely following its insistent beeps in an effort to discern what exactly it was supposed to detect. It gave a joyful ‘ding!’ when brought into contact with dark matter seepages, as it turned out. He pocketed the device. It was elegantly designed, and might well be useful to him someday.”
““Here, kitty kitty,” he tried, lamely, dangling a bit of wire from the console enticingly and blushing a bit. In a supremely feline gesture that was not at all a product of biological alteration, the Master arched a curious eyebrow, as if amused by the display.”
Hold Still Eight/Jacobi!Master) (835)
“
“You always come back. It’s just, you know, a new body comes with all those new, fresh wants. You’re not around in my time line, and I just missed you, and your coat and your gloves and your stupid immobile hair and unrepentant smirk and indulgent taste in cosmetics. I thought maybe you might be interested in helping me deal with it? If I’m imposing I can just pop back to San Francisco—””
“In a few minutes time I’m going to create a diversion…” (Three/Delgado!Master) (1,335)
““I could, er, scream for help?” He wasn’t very enthused about the prospect—it would be awfully hard to summon up shrieking distress.
“Not a bad idea,” the Master mused. “Of course no one would come. The guard they’ve left has already kindly offered to shoot you—in the event that you prove non-cooperative, naturally—” the Master clarified. “And in order to convince me to tell him you’re being of use to me, you’d have to promise to be quite helpful indeed. Yes,” the Master considered it, crossing his arms over his chest with a grin, “Scream away, Doctor,” he invited with a gesture of his hand.
“Must you look so damn pleased with yourself?” The Doctor huffed.
“Be fair, Doctor,” His eyes were lidded, his voice dropped low, and he bent in to kiss the Doctor lightly on the lips, “I’m pleased with you, too.””
It’s a Bubble (Five/Simm!Master) (2,542)
““Having fun yet?” The Master sneered at the disheveled blond, who looked up at him, eyes flashing, and seemed to moan something indignant and ridiculous and so very him, some variant of “How could you?” perhaps, around the Master’s cock.
The Master shuddered and bucked his hips forward involuntarily. The Doctor’s indignation was something of an acquired kink of his.”
Jenny (Ten/Simm!Master) (2,233—NEEDS EXPANDED)
““We always wanted children,” the Master shook his head, rueful.
“I think I have an idea,” Jenny bubbled suddenly. Her father—probably because she was born after his breakdown, didn’t associate her with the trauma of the war. He would come running to her if she could get a distress signal out where he could find it. He would pry open his mind if she pretended to be mentally injured, to need psychic healing. And then the Master could enter that opened chink and have full access to the Doctor, and do absolutely anything he needed to do to heal him in turn.
The Master smiled indulgently as Jenny spun out the plan he’d been slowly working her towards. Her thinking it was all her idea was his favorite part.”
Lost Five/Ainley!Master (2,429—NEEDS EXPANDED)
“They still hadn’t found a source of comfortable fiber with which to make bedding (the polar bear sighted earlier had yet to reappear, though the Master seemed somewhat obsessed with finding and killing it, more because its inexplicable presence annoyed them than because he wanted to eat it, from what the Doctor could tell), and the island got uncomfortably cold at night. It must have been what passed for winter here.”
Observer Effect (Three/Master) (1,127)
“The Doctor’s only surprised for an instant to find the Master waiting for him in the Process Room, leaning against the wall in an indolent pose. Stupid, the Doctor thinks to himself, because the Master usually knows what he’ll do before the Doctor’s figured it out himself.
The Master’s had the luxury of looking at him from the outside, of making a study of him. He only sees the conclusions the Doctor comes to, the actions he decides to take. The Doctor oversees the messy business of reconciling his own scattered impulses and reaching those conclusions. Like an atom he can’t determine his momentum without altering his position—always too busy moving to form a clear idea of the path he takes. To himself he seems so indefinite.
It galls him to think that the Master must find him rather obvious.”
Revenant (Three/Crispy!Master) (1,775)
“The Master likes asparagus, and too-sweet rose lassi that leaves you choking in the cloying press of its floral stench. The Doctor, without a look of horror or pity or despair, careful now as he was careless before, raises the wet cloth he prepares with the breakfast tray in case of mishaps. He blots the Master’s lip with incredible gentleness. His soft ‘there’ is nearly just breath.
The Master, he thinks, as he watches the other man again lift the spoon, the belly of which is smeared with the Master’s blood, loves a very rare steak.”
Deathless (One/Master) (3,000)
“The blood-splattered myth of him was there when the Horde came, a relic of the Kievan Rus. The Slavs scared children over cooking fires with stories of an enchanter who disdained death. Who traveled vast, incomprehensible distances with the aid an unmatchable steed from a far away kingdom. A foul thing that cleft its heart from its body: magician-king, trickster, thief of girls. The Slavs were in those days suspicious of undue cleverness. The vile Koschei, it was said, had been cunning as sin.
This is what they remembered:
Buried in the black forest, a fortress unlike anything they’d ever seen. A castle built of golden metal, tipped with iron-dark spires that twisted up higher than the treetops. Those spires giddy with almost obscene embellishments, the metal curling wild and broad like something grown. No one but the sorcerer comprehended the purpose of the sharp profusion of adornments. Everyone felt their power. His peasants feared to even look at them, as if the sight alone of such strangeness could corrupt their eyes.”
Susan (One/War Chief!Master) (2,531)
“His old eyes are still adjusting when he hears Susan shriek “Grandfather!” Whip-fast the Doctor turns, wondering what she’s gotten herself into this time—that child is nearly as much of a handful as her father was. The Doctor was younger then--he’d found the rigors of childrearing that now exhaust him invigorating. And he’d hadn’t been the only one raising his son. Everything is harder alone.
He turns, resigned to extricating Susan from something nasty, only to start. His mouth opens in a whispered, uncontrollable denial when he realizes it isn’t him Susan is calling for.”
Downing Street (Ten/Simm!Master) (1,225)
““Shut up,” the other man grabbed the Doctor by the hair and turned his head to the side so he could suck and bite at his neck. The Doctor gasped and pounded a fist into the conference room’s wood paneling before he could wonder why a human knew to go for that spot.
“I’ve got more of those electric nets,” the other man’s words were poison, filtering out between frantic kisses on the Doctor’s face, coupled with too-eager hands ripping at the buttons of his coat, “all over the city, and I’ll kill everyone, Doctor,” teeth on his jugular, nipping lightly, the stranger snarling with need as he ineffectually tried to tug the Doctor’s coat off his back, hampered by the wall, “I’m not joking, everyone if you don’t cooperate. Wrap your legs around me. There’s a good boy.””
Keller Machine (Three/Master) (1,112)
“The Master is flicking at the dials with exaggerated slow precision.
“Look—” The Doctor begins. The Master turns his head to look at him, expression carefully neutral.
The Doctor swallows.
“Look. What would it take for you not to turn it on?””
Three/Ainley!Master (1,295)
“The Master thought he had the way out of the dungeon figured out right up until he turned a corner and found himself in yet another long bank of cells. He looked about wildly for an exit, eyes lighting on something entirely unexpected.
“Oh no,” the man chained to the wall had a look of horror on his face, as if he’d just discovered the tires of his beloved junker had all been slashed. Come to think of it, the Master really should have tried that. “Not you again!”
The Master opened his mouth to sneer that the Doctor’s presence, let alone this Doctor’s, wasn’t in any way improving his situation, but was incapacitated by a kosh to the back of his head before he could produce a witticism. Apparently his pursuers knew their own prison better than he did.”
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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Date: 2010-02-05 03:02 am (UTC)And I remember that Five/Cheetah!Master ficlet...
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Date: 2010-02-07 05:15 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-02-07 05:43 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-02-07 05:45 pm (UTC)Okay, then... um....
The Three/Delgado kidnapping fic?
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Date: 2010-02-07 05:41 pm (UTC)That'd be a right quick clean up, too! Surely five/cheetah is a night's editing, a night with the beta and up?
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Date: 2010-02-05 03:10 am (UTC)(And I will totally pledge my firstborn child to you when you get around to finishing that War Chief/Three/Delgado one. Juuust so you know.)
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Date: 2010-02-07 05:39 pm (UTC)Aha. Oh, The One With Russ. You were funtimes--three era's always a delight to write, it just /comes/, you don't have to grit your teeth for it like stupid impossible Ainley!voice.
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Date: 2010-02-05 05:03 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-02-07 05:39 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-02-05 09:49 am (UTC)FORGET ALL THIS SILLY DOCTOR/MASTER STUFF AND WRITE MY BRAX FIC!!!
...please.
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Date: 2010-02-07 05:23 pm (UTC)*turns to Erin* Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain.
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Date: 2010-02-07 05:42 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-02-07 05:46 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-02-07 05:54 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-02-07 06:36 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-02-07 05:40 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-02-12 02:31 pm (UTC)Cheers.
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Date: 2010-02-17 11:07 am (UTC)