fic: Be Mine, Valentine.
Morning tea aboard the TARDIS was fairly predictable. But predictability seemed to have taken a day off since he had walked into the kitchen to find it bereft of the Master. A steaming cup of tea was waiting for him next to what appeared to be a still beating human heart. The Doctor's first thought was of utter revulsion.
The second was far more terrifying and begged to question just how the Master had managed to procure it.
Closer inspection proved that it was indeed not an actual heart but it was grotesque in it's realistic design, little spurts of 'blood' coming out with each beat. Beside it was a card, elegantly written out in the familiar whorls of Gallifreyan and roughly translated, "Will you be my valentine?" The Doctor shoved the card in a pocket, it was almost endearing.
Almost.
Attempting to ignore it as an isolated incident and more than likely a prank, he tried to settle back into his usual repair rounds and headed off. His trek, after working in the console room for most of the morning, was then to the shower. He found a trail of trampled roses from the atrium littering the path along the corridor, guiding the way. Sighing, he picked up the roses and plucked the next note off the bathroom door. Apparently ignoring the Master wouldn't work and he was very put out by the Doctor's attempt to do just that.
The note, still in the pattern of his native language, was again a rough translation:
"Roses are red,
violets are blue.
Homemade dynamite still explodes,
even if it's a bit crude."
P.S. Have you checked your room? -M
prompt: Um. Valentine's Day? idk
words: 290
The second was far more terrifying and begged to question just how the Master had managed to procure it.
Closer inspection proved that it was indeed not an actual heart but it was grotesque in it's realistic design, little spurts of 'blood' coming out with each beat. Beside it was a card, elegantly written out in the familiar whorls of Gallifreyan and roughly translated, "Will you be my valentine?" The Doctor shoved the card in a pocket, it was almost endearing.
Almost.
Attempting to ignore it as an isolated incident and more than likely a prank, he tried to settle back into his usual repair rounds and headed off. His trek, after working in the console room for most of the morning, was then to the shower. He found a trail of trampled roses from the atrium littering the path along the corridor, guiding the way. Sighing, he picked up the roses and plucked the next note off the bathroom door. Apparently ignoring the Master wouldn't work and he was very put out by the Doctor's attempt to do just that.
The note, still in the pattern of his native language, was again a rough translation:
"Roses are red,
violets are blue.
Homemade dynamite still explodes,
even if it's a bit crude."
P.S. Have you checked your room? -M
prompt: Um. Valentine's Day? idk
words: 290