Life on Mars (Ten, Martha, Donna), R
Title: Life on Mars (yes, I picked one at random just now, shhh)
Characters: Ten, Martha, Donna
Rating: Eh, give it an R for language and safety.
Spoilers: None
Word count: 397
Disclaimer: I always forget these, but I am, as it happens, aware that I am not licensed by the BBC to do much of anything, least of all write for Doctor Who. All the same, I do own the story, such as it is. And you can't get blood out of a turnip, so there.
Summary: Our intrepid travelers confront the greatest threat the universe has yet known and find it underwhelming.
Vaguely conceived as a drabble for lifeonmartha's 1,000 Drabbles of Awesome, but it went on for too long, and we turned out to have already finished. I have no idea where this came from, but I suspect I'll be visiting again on New Year's.
"MARTHA JONES
has a lovely arse that she owns
and not a bad bodice;
her bum swishes,
her cunt's delicious,
at least I suspect, but she got all, 'sod this';
Oh, Martha, Martha, Martha,
Nightingale,
Flibbertigibbit,
Love's own,
thhhbbbt, blech, what's that in my mouth anyhow?
Where was I?
OH, MARTAH! Of your breastage I gladly sing,
and all the spirit that you bring;
Martha Jones is brave, and cunning, and mild,
and her calves are fantastic-say, that doesn't rhyme, does it? But they are, you know, hey, YOU THERE, have you seen my Martha's calves? They're fantastic,
even her hair is all bombastic, I love that word, bommmmBAStic,
even her hair is all bombastic,
my lovely Martha JO-OONES!!"
Martha glared at Donna as they made slow progress up the street, the Doctor dangling by his arms between them. "You are never allowed to challenge him to a drinking competition again."
"It's not my fault he can't hold his liquor."
"No, but your astronomical tolerance is."
"I can't help it, it comes with the red hair. Like my feisty attitude and gift of gab."
"You aren't Irish, Donna."
"Red hair and breasts!" the Doctor sang up from between them. Then he was sick on their shoes.
"Oi, you're a medical doctor, can't you do anything for him?" said Donna, as the Doctor started in on a stanza about Martha's footwear. "This is the third pair this week."
Martha considered, felt in her jacket with her free hand, and coshed the Doctor over the head. Who said she hadn't learned anything from Torchwood.
"Oh, thanks."
"No problem."
They continued through London toward the TARDIS, the Doctor's head bouncing rhythmically as they dragged him along. "We can have sex without him, though, can't we?" Donna said reasonably.
Martha gave her a severe look. "Only when you're sober."
"Well, that could take a while. D'you suppose he keeps anything for this in the TARDIS?"
For answer, Martha dropped the Doctor to dip into another coat pocket. She tossed Donna a little blue phial. "I am a medical doctor, you know."
Donna held the phial up to the street light. "I think I like your qualifications better than his."
"Yeah. I get that a lot."
It is a difficult thing to walk with an extra switch in your hips whilst carrying a six-foot-three humanoid, but Martha and Donna managed it.
It made the Doctor's head bounce harder.
x-posted lifeonmartha, marriedonmars
Characters: Ten, Martha, Donna
Rating: Eh, give it an R for language and safety.
Spoilers: None
Word count: 397
Disclaimer: I always forget these, but I am, as it happens, aware that I am not licensed by the BBC to do much of anything, least of all write for Doctor Who. All the same, I do own the story, such as it is. And you can't get blood out of a turnip, so there.
Summary: Our intrepid travelers confront the greatest threat the universe has yet known and find it underwhelming.
Vaguely conceived as a drabble for lifeonmartha's 1,000 Drabbles of Awesome, but it went on for too long, and we turned out to have already finished. I have no idea where this came from, but I suspect I'll be visiting again on New Year's.
"MARTHA JONES
has a lovely arse that she owns
and not a bad bodice;
her bum swishes,
her cunt's delicious,
at least I suspect, but she got all, 'sod this';
Oh, Martha, Martha, Martha,
Nightingale,
Flibbertigibbit,
Love's own,
thhhbbbt, blech, what's that in my mouth anyhow?
Where was I?
OH, MARTAH! Of your breastage I gladly sing,
and all the spirit that you bring;
Martha Jones is brave, and cunning, and mild,
and her calves are fantastic-say, that doesn't rhyme, does it? But they are, you know, hey, YOU THERE, have you seen my Martha's calves? They're fantastic,
even her hair is all bombastic, I love that word, bommmmBAStic,
even her hair is all bombastic,
my lovely Martha JO-OONES!!"
Martha glared at Donna as they made slow progress up the street, the Doctor dangling by his arms between them. "You are never allowed to challenge him to a drinking competition again."
"It's not my fault he can't hold his liquor."
"No, but your astronomical tolerance is."
"I can't help it, it comes with the red hair. Like my feisty attitude and gift of gab."
"You aren't Irish, Donna."
"Red hair and breasts!" the Doctor sang up from between them. Then he was sick on their shoes.
"Oi, you're a medical doctor, can't you do anything for him?" said Donna, as the Doctor started in on a stanza about Martha's footwear. "This is the third pair this week."
Martha considered, felt in her jacket with her free hand, and coshed the Doctor over the head. Who said she hadn't learned anything from Torchwood.
"Oh, thanks."
"No problem."
They continued through London toward the TARDIS, the Doctor's head bouncing rhythmically as they dragged him along. "We can have sex without him, though, can't we?" Donna said reasonably.
Martha gave her a severe look. "Only when you're sober."
"Well, that could take a while. D'you suppose he keeps anything for this in the TARDIS?"
For answer, Martha dropped the Doctor to dip into another coat pocket. She tossed Donna a little blue phial. "I am a medical doctor, you know."
Donna held the phial up to the street light. "I think I like your qualifications better than his."
"Yeah. I get that a lot."
It is a difficult thing to walk with an extra switch in your hips whilst carrying a six-foot-three humanoid, but Martha and Donna managed it.
It made the Doctor's head bounce harder.
x-posted lifeonmartha, marriedonmars