Drabble Prompts Post
None of these are betaed or. in some cases, make sense.
For bbdomme
The problem with a time and space portal on Earth was that, of course, it went out all the bloody time. Inconveniently. The problem with a time and space portal from Earth to Narnia was that it went traveling and it took the Doctor a bloody long time to locate it again in the 1940s, in the countryside. Miles from the London they'd just left. He found his way, eventually, but late. Even for him, he was late. Days late. Relatively. He left Jack and Rose at the castle, celebrating a coronation that he didn't explain with four children just as confused as his two. He went to walk on the beach.
"You died." he accused, stepping into pace.
"Only for a little while." The Lion returned, voice even.
"That still counts. You always tell me it does."
"Of course it counts. But not for long. Everyone else lived."
"But not you."
"I came back, Doctor. You can't tell me you've not made the same sacrifice."
Peri. "And would again."
"and I'm not to be accorded the same courtesy of choice?"
"It's not like that..."
"It's exactly like that." The voice was fiercer now, not quite a growl, but building to it.
"Now look here..."
"Just this once. This once, Doctor, everyone lived. Give me that." Aslan said, tired and old as both of them were.
The Doctor ducked his head, watching their footprints form on the sand, then nodded. "Just this once."
For matsujo9
"No, seriously now, we're where?" Rodney was not panicking. Rodney was not panicking.
"1977."
Rodney was panicking.
"Oh my god, we are not. That's not possible. Time Travel is...okay, not impossible, but. How are you so calm? Are you messing with me? This is part of that British sense of humor thing isn't it? You're putting on an American accent to confuse me. I'm not fooled buddy and OH MY GOD, WHAT IS THAT?"
The alien slung his arms (tentacles) around Jack's shoulders. Jack sighed. "Dr. Rodney McKay, this is Theodore Thierty. He's going to send us home."
The alien looked as surprised as Rodney.
"I've done this before," Jack sighed, then waved to himself under a street lamp.
Rodney followed his gaze then sighed. "I'm never being loaned to Torchwood again. Ever. Figure out your own rift manipulator whatever."
For sistercarrion
"This'll be your room, then," the Doctor stood outside of Jack's door on the Tardis. It had been five days and the Doctor hadn't ever come looking for him- Jack had always wandered out to the console room to find them. Rose, sometimes, the Doctor always. Jack half suspect he was planted there, like a particularly bad tempered flower.
"Um. Yeah," Jack sat up on the edge of the bed, pulling his boots on and giving the Doctor a confused look.
He looked around, frowning slightly, "Thought this one had been jettisoned. Centuries ago."
He wasn't speaking to Jack but Jack answered anyway. "...Guess not?"
The Doctor wandered into Jack's room and touched a dirk on the dresser that Jack hadn't moved. He'd liked it. It fit the rest of the tartaned room, the heavy oak furniture. The kilt in the closet he hadn't moved either.
The Doctor put the knife back, then nodded at Jack, "Need you in the console room." He waggled his fingers at Jack, "Your fingers are girlier."
"Thinner," Jack corrected automatically.
The Doctor smirked at him. "Whichever." He looked around the room again. "Fits you."
Jack stood carefully, warmth a ball in his stomach. Tone rather then understanding the words themselves. He nodded, then stepped behind the Doctor, slightly to the left. Comfortable there and he followed the Doctor out.
For knitmeapony
Sunrise, sunset. Sunrise, sunset. Years. Decades. Centuries. Old ones left and died and humans he'd grown up with had died long ago.
There was still Will. His family was gone, long gone. He kept a map of their families, a chart of his blood, spread over the globe. Who lived. Who died. He watched the children grow up. Marry. Have children of their own. Die. He watched humanity from outside of humanity and slowly felt his own leaving until he wasn't Will Stanton anymore, not really. He was the Sign Bearer, the last old one and so alone he ached sometimes. The wrong places. Not his heart. The pit of his stomach. The back of his head. A sharp blow, each of them.
He watched his own children's descendants until they'd forgotten even the surname Stanton. He watched Barney and Simon's children and grandchildren, but lost them long ago. No magic to search by. No blood to tie them.
He'd refused to look for Jane and Bran's children. Couldn't. He just couldn't do it for a long time and then he thought it was too late.
Sunrise. Sunset. Days. Months. Years. Centuries. Wales again because he couldn't help it. And a golden eyed boy with white-blond hair approached him on the street and called him by a name he hadn't heard in centuries. "Will? Will Stanton?"
Will met those eyes and saw Bran. Saw Jane. Saw magic that had been as much a part of them as the air they'd breathed.
The boy smiled at him, "We've been waiting for you, Old One. Welcome home."
For penguingirl84
Jo was growling.
That wasn't unusual.
What was unusual was the fur covering her face, the elongated finger nails, curved into claws, and the fact that she was on the other side of the bars, not staring emotionally at whomever was in the cell.
In fact, given her roaring and throwing herself at the cage, Jack was pretty sure this was the most emotion he'd ever seen her express inside the Sheriff's office.
"How long until it wears off?" Jack asked Henry, morbidly fascinated.
Henry looked up absently from his moving puzzle. "What? Oh. Depends on what dose dart Taggart hit her with. Could be an hour, could be either."
"And so we just. Have to keep her under arrest until then?"
Henry looked at Jack, questioning. "Do you want to let her out like this?"
"...Well. No."
For unfeathered
Again," The Master poked Jack in the ribs with the cattle prod again.
"Fuck. You." Jack growled between clenched teeth, arms above his head, on tiptoe. Dangling helplessly..
The Master snorted, "So crass, Captain. Try again." Another blow with the cattle prod.
"No."
Another. "I'd do it before your lungs can't take it."
Asphyxiation was not the worst way to go. Except when Jack woke up with a cattle prod in his mouth for a few seconds before he died again. That wasn't pleasant.
He'd die anyway this time, but if he could make it less painful and if the only thing he was losing was his dignity (he was covered in his own blood, grease, and dirt. He'd shit himself earlier this week, hosed off like an animal in front of everyone. He didn't have any dignity) then he could do it.
Jack's voice rose on a note, lungs not quite expanding as he sang The Circle of Life. The Master pushed the cattle prod against his spine, killing Jack on the last note, just as Jack's lungs collapsed.
For bbdomme
The problem with a time and space portal on Earth was that, of course, it went out all the bloody time. Inconveniently. The problem with a time and space portal from Earth to Narnia was that it went traveling and it took the Doctor a bloody long time to locate it again in the 1940s, in the countryside. Miles from the London they'd just left. He found his way, eventually, but late. Even for him, he was late. Days late. Relatively. He left Jack and Rose at the castle, celebrating a coronation that he didn't explain with four children just as confused as his two. He went to walk on the beach.
"You died." he accused, stepping into pace.
"Only for a little while." The Lion returned, voice even.
"That still counts. You always tell me it does."
"Of course it counts. But not for long. Everyone else lived."
"But not you."
"I came back, Doctor. You can't tell me you've not made the same sacrifice."
Peri. "And would again."
"and I'm not to be accorded the same courtesy of choice?"
"It's not like that..."
"It's exactly like that." The voice was fiercer now, not quite a growl, but building to it.
"Now look here..."
"Just this once. This once, Doctor, everyone lived. Give me that." Aslan said, tired and old as both of them were.
The Doctor ducked his head, watching their footprints form on the sand, then nodded. "Just this once."
For matsujo9
"No, seriously now, we're where?" Rodney was not panicking. Rodney was not panicking.
"1977."
Rodney was panicking.
"Oh my god, we are not. That's not possible. Time Travel is...okay, not impossible, but. How are you so calm? Are you messing with me? This is part of that British sense of humor thing isn't it? You're putting on an American accent to confuse me. I'm not fooled buddy and OH MY GOD, WHAT IS THAT?"
The alien slung his arms (tentacles) around Jack's shoulders. Jack sighed. "Dr. Rodney McKay, this is Theodore Thierty. He's going to send us home."
The alien looked as surprised as Rodney.
"I've done this before," Jack sighed, then waved to himself under a street lamp.
Rodney followed his gaze then sighed. "I'm never being loaned to Torchwood again. Ever. Figure out your own rift manipulator whatever."
For sistercarrion
"This'll be your room, then," the Doctor stood outside of Jack's door on the Tardis. It had been five days and the Doctor hadn't ever come looking for him- Jack had always wandered out to the console room to find them. Rose, sometimes, the Doctor always. Jack half suspect he was planted there, like a particularly bad tempered flower.
"Um. Yeah," Jack sat up on the edge of the bed, pulling his boots on and giving the Doctor a confused look.
He looked around, frowning slightly, "Thought this one had been jettisoned. Centuries ago."
He wasn't speaking to Jack but Jack answered anyway. "...Guess not?"
The Doctor wandered into Jack's room and touched a dirk on the dresser that Jack hadn't moved. He'd liked it. It fit the rest of the tartaned room, the heavy oak furniture. The kilt in the closet he hadn't moved either.
The Doctor put the knife back, then nodded at Jack, "Need you in the console room." He waggled his fingers at Jack, "Your fingers are girlier."
"Thinner," Jack corrected automatically.
The Doctor smirked at him. "Whichever." He looked around the room again. "Fits you."
Jack stood carefully, warmth a ball in his stomach. Tone rather then understanding the words themselves. He nodded, then stepped behind the Doctor, slightly to the left. Comfortable there and he followed the Doctor out.
For knitmeapony
Sunrise, sunset. Sunrise, sunset. Years. Decades. Centuries. Old ones left and died and humans he'd grown up with had died long ago.
There was still Will. His family was gone, long gone. He kept a map of their families, a chart of his blood, spread over the globe. Who lived. Who died. He watched the children grow up. Marry. Have children of their own. Die. He watched humanity from outside of humanity and slowly felt his own leaving until he wasn't Will Stanton anymore, not really. He was the Sign Bearer, the last old one and so alone he ached sometimes. The wrong places. Not his heart. The pit of his stomach. The back of his head. A sharp blow, each of them.
He watched his own children's descendants until they'd forgotten even the surname Stanton. He watched Barney and Simon's children and grandchildren, but lost them long ago. No magic to search by. No blood to tie them.
He'd refused to look for Jane and Bran's children. Couldn't. He just couldn't do it for a long time and then he thought it was too late.
Sunrise. Sunset. Days. Months. Years. Centuries. Wales again because he couldn't help it. And a golden eyed boy with white-blond hair approached him on the street and called him by a name he hadn't heard in centuries. "Will? Will Stanton?"
Will met those eyes and saw Bran. Saw Jane. Saw magic that had been as much a part of them as the air they'd breathed.
The boy smiled at him, "We've been waiting for you, Old One. Welcome home."
For penguingirl84
Jo was growling.
That wasn't unusual.
What was unusual was the fur covering her face, the elongated finger nails, curved into claws, and the fact that she was on the other side of the bars, not staring emotionally at whomever was in the cell.
In fact, given her roaring and throwing herself at the cage, Jack was pretty sure this was the most emotion he'd ever seen her express inside the Sheriff's office.
"How long until it wears off?" Jack asked Henry, morbidly fascinated.
Henry looked up absently from his moving puzzle. "What? Oh. Depends on what dose dart Taggart hit her with. Could be an hour, could be either."
"And so we just. Have to keep her under arrest until then?"
Henry looked at Jack, questioning. "Do you want to let her out like this?"
"...Well. No."
For unfeathered
Again," The Master poked Jack in the ribs with the cattle prod again.
"Fuck. You." Jack growled between clenched teeth, arms above his head, on tiptoe. Dangling helplessly..
The Master snorted, "So crass, Captain. Try again." Another blow with the cattle prod.
"No."
Another. "I'd do it before your lungs can't take it."
Asphyxiation was not the worst way to go. Except when Jack woke up with a cattle prod in his mouth for a few seconds before he died again. That wasn't pleasant.
He'd die anyway this time, but if he could make it less painful and if the only thing he was losing was his dignity (he was covered in his own blood, grease, and dirt. He'd shit himself earlier this week, hosed off like an animal in front of everyone. He didn't have any dignity) then he could do it.
Jack's voice rose on a note, lungs not quite expanding as he sang The Circle of Life. The Master pushed the cattle prod against his spine, killing Jack on the last note, just as Jack's lungs collapsed.