Fic what I would never write, honest (pt2)
It's just possible that I got a wee bit carried away writing that massive Whoniverse orgy that I would never write. *cough*
(Minus any actual orgy-ing, of course. Obviously.)
clocketpatch: "DW: ALL of the Doctors and Companions (including Big Finish, Book, Expanded universe, Cushing, and Curse of the Fatal Death Companions and Doctors) have a massive Space!Orgy together on Pluto."
But the thing is, while I would never be the person to write an orgy, I have always had a weakness for multi-era crack...
(I had to refer to all the Doctors by number because there is no other way I could do multi-era crack of this sort and have anybody know who's talking. But I'm sorry about that.)
PG for implications, 2172 words.
***
“Yes, but whatever are we here for?” asked the Second Doctor. “All of us at once?”
The Fourth Doctor was in a particularly foul mood. “It had better be nothing less than one of those direst emergencies!”
“Which you have a tendency to duck out of,” the Third Doctor pointed out. “Don’t think it hasn’t been noted, old chap.”
The Eleventh Doctor stood on top of the TARDIS, waved his arms about and fell off, which left it to Clara to explain.
“It’s for an orgy,” she said. “He’s decided orgies are cool and he never sees enough of his friends these days. Don’t blame me. I told him no, they weren’t and not to -”
Her Doctor reached the top of the TARDIS again and interrupted. “Yes! We’re going to get into the Guinness Book of Universal Records and have fun all at the same time! What could possibly be wrong with that?”
“Oh, God,” said Amy, putting her hands to her face. “This was River’s idea, wasn’t it?”
Rory shuffled nearer her. “Do you think he actually knows what an orgy is? Maybe somebody should tell him?”
“I thought I heard my name,” said River. “And in answer to your question -” she checked her diary “yes, he definitely does by now, take my word for it. And sadly, no, not my idea. It did cross my mind, but I never thought he’d agree.”
“Oh, an orgy,” said the Fourth Doctor, standing next to both Romanas. “Oh, well, that’s different. It’s all those overrated end of the universe reunions I’ve got no patience with.”
Sarah Jane was less impressed. “An orgy! There is nothing all right about that, Doctor!”
“Oh, I don’t know,” said Romana II. “I suspect it might be rather fun. It certainly should be interesting, in any case.”
The Doctor nodded. “Yes, and -” Then his face clouded over. “What blithering clot invited Harry?!”
“An orgy,” said Zoe thoughtfully, standing next to Adric. “There are rather a lot of us here, aren’t there?”
Adric wrinkled his forehead. “Yes. I thought that was the point?”
“Well, then, this is going to take considerable organisation if we’re going to do things properly,” she said, with sudden decision. “I shall draw up a plan. Do you want to help?”
“Yes, but what’s an orgy?” said Adric, who’d never met River. “Does it involve food?”
Zoe thought about it. “According to my research, it’s extremely probable. It may not be strictly for eating, though.”
“Then what’s the point of that?” said Adric in disgust.
“This must be your fault,” said the Third Doctor, pinning down two Masters at sword point.
“My dear Doctor, your own future self has just said -”
“It’s always your fault! Are you telling me that I would ever have come up with a plan like this if it wasn’t your fault?”
“Doctor, you did say,” Jo said, tugging at his sleeve. “I mean, the other you said, so maybe he does have a point this once.”
The Master smiled (both of him). “And may I say how flattered I am to be included?” said the original one.
“Listen, Jo,” said the Doctor, ignoring the Master (as usual). “It is just conceivable that there are circumstances under which I might have come up with such an horrendous idea, but never, never would I have invited that jackanapes - and I most certainly would not have invited the Brigadier!”
Clara, standing behind them, coughed for attention. “Trust me, Doctor, it was your idea. And he wasn’t sure about the Master. Said he always spoils everything, but apparently we were just shy of the last universal record if we left him out.”
“Wow,” said Peri to Jack, breathlessly.
“My pleasure.”
“Except, uh, I don’t think anyone else has started yet.”
“Somebody’s got to be first,” said Jack, who was always ready for that somebody to be him.
Peri looked beyond him. “Oh.”
“What?”
“I think the Doctor dragged my husband along, too. I’m really sorry…”
“An orgy!” said Donna, incandescent with outrage. She slapped her Doctor. “This is exactly the sort of crap I told you I wasn’t putting up with, Spaceman!”
Before the Doctor could protest that you could hardly blame him for what he was going to do in the future when he was a completely different person who had evidently lost some important marbles in the process of regeneration (and he’d have to try avoiding becoming him for as long as possible now, thanks), he was also slapped by Tegan, Rose, his Master, Frobisher, and Donna again, who felt she was being unfairly left out by this point.
“Oy,” he said, eventually, nursing his cheek. “That was completely uncalled for, all of you!”
“I’m afraid the whole thing is probably my fault,” said one of several other Ninth Doctors to the Eighth Doctor. “I ran into him during a crisis involving a tear in the fabric of reality and happened to mention that we did this sort of thing in my universe all the time. Don’t we, Emma?”
His companion nodded. “Oh, yes. And especially with some of those dishy future selves of yours, Doctor. Of course, nobody’s so keen on the Master, not after all that time in the sewers, but he does so hate being left out.”
“You see?” said her Doctor. “And, Emma, I thought you said none of them were as handsome as me?”
“Of course not, darling,” Emma said, with her fingers crossed behind her back and a speculative eye on the Eighth Doctor.
“How fascinating!” said the Eighth Doctor. “And I thought I was being terribly daring with the odd kiss here and there. We’ll have to try harder in future, Charley.”
Charley went a particularly vivid shade of beetroot. “I think I prefer things as they are, Doctor, thanks,” she said as firmly as she could.
“You’re from Torchwood, aren’t you?” Clyde said, cornering Gwen. “So, come on, how did you pull this off?”
Gwen stared. “What, you think this is my doing? How d’you work that out?”
“Well,” said Luke, “this is exactly the sort of thing my Mum warned us would happen if we ever went near Torchwood.”
Rani nodded.
“I’m thinking of applying to join when I’m old enough,” said Clyde and then, at the other two’s looks: “Not because of that, obviously. Just, you know, more alien fighting. I might apply to UNIT instead. They’re cooler.”
Gwen opened her mouth to insist that this had nothing to do with Torchwood and then realised that she hadn’t checked with Jack and you never knew. “Good luck,” she said to Clyde, and worried again about why the orgy-organiser (who probably wasn’t Jack) had thought it was a good idea to include the pterodactyl.
“Doctor,” said Clara, rescuing him from being caned to death by his original self. “You okay?”
He dusted his jacket down and glared at his retreating former self. “Yes. I don’t know, you invite someone to a party, and then they’re not in the least bit grateful!”
“Talking of invitations,” said Clara, her tone becoming stern, “exactly how many of me did you bring along?”
The Doctor put his hands in his pockets and stared upwards.
“Doctor!”
“Well, it wouldn’t have been fair to leave any of you out, would it? I didn’t leave any of me out!”
Clara sighed. The worst thing was, from what she could vaguely remember, she had a feeling an awful lot of her would probably be enjoying this. It was just a shame that none of those Claras were this particular Clara.
The Brigadier was fuming, and had lined up all UNIT members in a separate corner of the hall. “I have every respect for the Doctor, but I will not have my men abducted and forced to take part in such nonsense - not again!”
“Again?” said Liz Shaw, raising both eyebrows. “Is there something I should know about, Brigadier?”
Suddenly, music blared out from hidden speakers, and the latest, least stable incarnation of the Master leapt onto one of the available TARDISes to the strands of “Love Machine”.
“Yes!” he said. “This is all my idea! And now you’re all here, exactly as I planned -”
“I knew it!” said the Third Doctor. “When is it ever not his fault, hmm?”
The Eleventh Doctor swung around. “Hey, it was all my plan. I should know; I spent a hundred and fifty years writing out the invitations. Well, not all at once. In between other things.”
“Ah, yes, but who do you think planted such an uncharacteristic idea in your head, Doctor?” said the Master. “Who else could it be but me? It happened the last time we met - a failsafe, to be triggered into action on regeneration. Witness the humiliation of all your lives and allies!”
“What humiliation exactly?” said the Doctor. “I thought it might be fun. All my best friends getting on in the same time and place and everything.”
“… If this is all your fault, then why the hell did you just slap me?” asked the Tenth Doctor.
“Why not?” said the Master, and threw back his head to give an evil laugh. “And now I release the sex pollen and complete my - Aargh!”
He fell from the TARDIS roof, speared by the Third Doctor’s sword, which the original Master had swiftly stolen and put to effective use. Everyone turned to look at him.
“Far be it from me to stand in the way of someone plotting against you, Doctor,” he said. “But there are ways and ways of doing so. It seems I am no longer the Time Lord I once was.”
“Never mind, old fellow, we all have our less flattering regenerations,” said the Third Doctor, patting him on the back. “Look at all of mine!”
The Eleventh Doctor coughed. “Right, well, it seems we’ve been spared me making a rather embarrassing social faux pas and now we can all go home. Unless anybody wants to have an orgy? I mean, seeing as we’re all here and the room’s booked.”
There was a long pause while he looked around the hall hopefully.
“Just you, me, the looker with the curls and the diary, and the penguin,” said Captain Jack, taking down the votes. “And Professor Summerfield, of course.”
Frobisher panicked. “Hey, what, me? I never raised a flipper!”
“Sorry,” said Jack. “Wishful thinking. I’m partial to Whifferdills. Oh, and six Claras, including the Dalek. Sorry, you’re all so short I didn’t see you.”
Clara had an inkling then of how the Doctor felt about his other selves.
It was at that point that Harry Sullivan accidentally pulled on the cord that released the sex pollen.
“I said you shouldn’t have invited Harry,” said the Fourth Doctor, before nobody had leisure for talking and they got on and broke that universal record, possibly in several different dimensions and with scandalous disregard for the Blinovitch Limitation Effect.
*
Of course, that wasn’t the end of it. It turned out that the venue itself had been part of the Master’s plot. On Pluto, everything was taxed in this period, most definitely including orgies. The Doctor nearly died of the paperwork, not to mention the bill, but the authorities were adamant that they weren’t unlocking the cell door until the forms had been completed.
“Look at this one,” he wailed to Clara. “It wants everybody’s names!”
She folded her arms. “Well, since you invited everyone, that shouldn’t be too hard, should it? You must know all your friends’ names.”
“Oh, well, yes,” he said. “Of course I do! Most of them, anyway. Most of the time. It’s not them, it’s me. I don’t even know how many of me there are any more. And humans think they know what an identity crisis is.”
Clara sat down next to him; a gesture that meant she might possibly be thinking about forgiving him some time in the next decade. “Why did you think it would be a good idea, Doctor? I mean, you’re you. You must have known it really wasn’t -”
“Oh, I don’t know,” he said. “I’m pretty sure I originally had a cunning plan to outsmart the Master, but then a few hundred years later I thought it might be a nice team bondage exercise.”
“Team bonding,” said Clara firmly. “And next time, just throw a party. Or take everybody away to the country for the weekend and make them assemble furniture or something.”
“But I thought orgies were supposed to be fun. That’s what… people told me.”
“In theory,” said Clara. “But they’re not everybody’s cup of tea, right? Anyway, from now on, we never talk about this ever again and I might be able to stop throwing things at you at least once an hour, how’s that?”
“Sounds good to me,” the Doctor said, and smiled at her. Then he screwed up the form and flung it across the room. “Blow that for a lark, I think we should just escape, don’t you?”
***
Crossposted from Dreamwidth -- Comments there:
(Minus any actual orgy-ing, of course. Obviously.)
clocketpatch: "DW: ALL of the Doctors and Companions (including Big Finish, Book, Expanded universe, Cushing, and Curse of the Fatal Death Companions and Doctors) have a massive Space!Orgy together on Pluto."
But the thing is, while I would never be the person to write an orgy, I have always had a weakness for multi-era crack...
(I had to refer to all the Doctors by number because there is no other way I could do multi-era crack of this sort and have anybody know who's talking. But I'm sorry about that.)
PG for implications, 2172 words.
***
“Yes, but whatever are we here for?” asked the Second Doctor. “All of us at once?”
The Fourth Doctor was in a particularly foul mood. “It had better be nothing less than one of those direst emergencies!”
“Which you have a tendency to duck out of,” the Third Doctor pointed out. “Don’t think it hasn’t been noted, old chap.”
The Eleventh Doctor stood on top of the TARDIS, waved his arms about and fell off, which left it to Clara to explain.
“It’s for an orgy,” she said. “He’s decided orgies are cool and he never sees enough of his friends these days. Don’t blame me. I told him no, they weren’t and not to -”
Her Doctor reached the top of the TARDIS again and interrupted. “Yes! We’re going to get into the Guinness Book of Universal Records and have fun all at the same time! What could possibly be wrong with that?”
“Oh, God,” said Amy, putting her hands to her face. “This was River’s idea, wasn’t it?”
Rory shuffled nearer her. “Do you think he actually knows what an orgy is? Maybe somebody should tell him?”
“I thought I heard my name,” said River. “And in answer to your question -” she checked her diary “yes, he definitely does by now, take my word for it. And sadly, no, not my idea. It did cross my mind, but I never thought he’d agree.”
“Oh, an orgy,” said the Fourth Doctor, standing next to both Romanas. “Oh, well, that’s different. It’s all those overrated end of the universe reunions I’ve got no patience with.”
Sarah Jane was less impressed. “An orgy! There is nothing all right about that, Doctor!”
“Oh, I don’t know,” said Romana II. “I suspect it might be rather fun. It certainly should be interesting, in any case.”
The Doctor nodded. “Yes, and -” Then his face clouded over. “What blithering clot invited Harry?!”
“An orgy,” said Zoe thoughtfully, standing next to Adric. “There are rather a lot of us here, aren’t there?”
Adric wrinkled his forehead. “Yes. I thought that was the point?”
“Well, then, this is going to take considerable organisation if we’re going to do things properly,” she said, with sudden decision. “I shall draw up a plan. Do you want to help?”
“Yes, but what’s an orgy?” said Adric, who’d never met River. “Does it involve food?”
Zoe thought about it. “According to my research, it’s extremely probable. It may not be strictly for eating, though.”
“Then what’s the point of that?” said Adric in disgust.
“This must be your fault,” said the Third Doctor, pinning down two Masters at sword point.
“My dear Doctor, your own future self has just said -”
“It’s always your fault! Are you telling me that I would ever have come up with a plan like this if it wasn’t your fault?”
“Doctor, you did say,” Jo said, tugging at his sleeve. “I mean, the other you said, so maybe he does have a point this once.”
The Master smiled (both of him). “And may I say how flattered I am to be included?” said the original one.
“Listen, Jo,” said the Doctor, ignoring the Master (as usual). “It is just conceivable that there are circumstances under which I might have come up with such an horrendous idea, but never, never would I have invited that jackanapes - and I most certainly would not have invited the Brigadier!”
Clara, standing behind them, coughed for attention. “Trust me, Doctor, it was your idea. And he wasn’t sure about the Master. Said he always spoils everything, but apparently we were just shy of the last universal record if we left him out.”
“Wow,” said Peri to Jack, breathlessly.
“My pleasure.”
“Except, uh, I don’t think anyone else has started yet.”
“Somebody’s got to be first,” said Jack, who was always ready for that somebody to be him.
Peri looked beyond him. “Oh.”
“What?”
“I think the Doctor dragged my husband along, too. I’m really sorry…”
“An orgy!” said Donna, incandescent with outrage. She slapped her Doctor. “This is exactly the sort of crap I told you I wasn’t putting up with, Spaceman!”
Before the Doctor could protest that you could hardly blame him for what he was going to do in the future when he was a completely different person who had evidently lost some important marbles in the process of regeneration (and he’d have to try avoiding becoming him for as long as possible now, thanks), he was also slapped by Tegan, Rose, his Master, Frobisher, and Donna again, who felt she was being unfairly left out by this point.
“Oy,” he said, eventually, nursing his cheek. “That was completely uncalled for, all of you!”
“I’m afraid the whole thing is probably my fault,” said one of several other Ninth Doctors to the Eighth Doctor. “I ran into him during a crisis involving a tear in the fabric of reality and happened to mention that we did this sort of thing in my universe all the time. Don’t we, Emma?”
His companion nodded. “Oh, yes. And especially with some of those dishy future selves of yours, Doctor. Of course, nobody’s so keen on the Master, not after all that time in the sewers, but he does so hate being left out.”
“You see?” said her Doctor. “And, Emma, I thought you said none of them were as handsome as me?”
“Of course not, darling,” Emma said, with her fingers crossed behind her back and a speculative eye on the Eighth Doctor.
“How fascinating!” said the Eighth Doctor. “And I thought I was being terribly daring with the odd kiss here and there. We’ll have to try harder in future, Charley.”
Charley went a particularly vivid shade of beetroot. “I think I prefer things as they are, Doctor, thanks,” she said as firmly as she could.
“You’re from Torchwood, aren’t you?” Clyde said, cornering Gwen. “So, come on, how did you pull this off?”
Gwen stared. “What, you think this is my doing? How d’you work that out?”
“Well,” said Luke, “this is exactly the sort of thing my Mum warned us would happen if we ever went near Torchwood.”
Rani nodded.
“I’m thinking of applying to join when I’m old enough,” said Clyde and then, at the other two’s looks: “Not because of that, obviously. Just, you know, more alien fighting. I might apply to UNIT instead. They’re cooler.”
Gwen opened her mouth to insist that this had nothing to do with Torchwood and then realised that she hadn’t checked with Jack and you never knew. “Good luck,” she said to Clyde, and worried again about why the orgy-organiser (who probably wasn’t Jack) had thought it was a good idea to include the pterodactyl.
“Doctor,” said Clara, rescuing him from being caned to death by his original self. “You okay?”
He dusted his jacket down and glared at his retreating former self. “Yes. I don’t know, you invite someone to a party, and then they’re not in the least bit grateful!”
“Talking of invitations,” said Clara, her tone becoming stern, “exactly how many of me did you bring along?”
The Doctor put his hands in his pockets and stared upwards.
“Doctor!”
“Well, it wouldn’t have been fair to leave any of you out, would it? I didn’t leave any of me out!”
Clara sighed. The worst thing was, from what she could vaguely remember, she had a feeling an awful lot of her would probably be enjoying this. It was just a shame that none of those Claras were this particular Clara.
The Brigadier was fuming, and had lined up all UNIT members in a separate corner of the hall. “I have every respect for the Doctor, but I will not have my men abducted and forced to take part in such nonsense - not again!”
“Again?” said Liz Shaw, raising both eyebrows. “Is there something I should know about, Brigadier?”
Suddenly, music blared out from hidden speakers, and the latest, least stable incarnation of the Master leapt onto one of the available TARDISes to the strands of “Love Machine”.
“Yes!” he said. “This is all my idea! And now you’re all here, exactly as I planned -”
“I knew it!” said the Third Doctor. “When is it ever not his fault, hmm?”
The Eleventh Doctor swung around. “Hey, it was all my plan. I should know; I spent a hundred and fifty years writing out the invitations. Well, not all at once. In between other things.”
“Ah, yes, but who do you think planted such an uncharacteristic idea in your head, Doctor?” said the Master. “Who else could it be but me? It happened the last time we met - a failsafe, to be triggered into action on regeneration. Witness the humiliation of all your lives and allies!”
“What humiliation exactly?” said the Doctor. “I thought it might be fun. All my best friends getting on in the same time and place and everything.”
“… If this is all your fault, then why the hell did you just slap me?” asked the Tenth Doctor.
“Why not?” said the Master, and threw back his head to give an evil laugh. “And now I release the sex pollen and complete my - Aargh!”
He fell from the TARDIS roof, speared by the Third Doctor’s sword, which the original Master had swiftly stolen and put to effective use. Everyone turned to look at him.
“Far be it from me to stand in the way of someone plotting against you, Doctor,” he said. “But there are ways and ways of doing so. It seems I am no longer the Time Lord I once was.”
“Never mind, old fellow, we all have our less flattering regenerations,” said the Third Doctor, patting him on the back. “Look at all of mine!”
The Eleventh Doctor coughed. “Right, well, it seems we’ve been spared me making a rather embarrassing social faux pas and now we can all go home. Unless anybody wants to have an orgy? I mean, seeing as we’re all here and the room’s booked.”
There was a long pause while he looked around the hall hopefully.
“Just you, me, the looker with the curls and the diary, and the penguin,” said Captain Jack, taking down the votes. “And Professor Summerfield, of course.”
Frobisher panicked. “Hey, what, me? I never raised a flipper!”
“Sorry,” said Jack. “Wishful thinking. I’m partial to Whifferdills. Oh, and six Claras, including the Dalek. Sorry, you’re all so short I didn’t see you.”
Clara had an inkling then of how the Doctor felt about his other selves.
It was at that point that Harry Sullivan accidentally pulled on the cord that released the sex pollen.
“I said you shouldn’t have invited Harry,” said the Fourth Doctor, before nobody had leisure for talking and they got on and broke that universal record, possibly in several different dimensions and with scandalous disregard for the Blinovitch Limitation Effect.
*
Of course, that wasn’t the end of it. It turned out that the venue itself had been part of the Master’s plot. On Pluto, everything was taxed in this period, most definitely including orgies. The Doctor nearly died of the paperwork, not to mention the bill, but the authorities were adamant that they weren’t unlocking the cell door until the forms had been completed.
“Look at this one,” he wailed to Clara. “It wants everybody’s names!”
She folded her arms. “Well, since you invited everyone, that shouldn’t be too hard, should it? You must know all your friends’ names.”
“Oh, well, yes,” he said. “Of course I do! Most of them, anyway. Most of the time. It’s not them, it’s me. I don’t even know how many of me there are any more. And humans think they know what an identity crisis is.”
Clara sat down next to him; a gesture that meant she might possibly be thinking about forgiving him some time in the next decade. “Why did you think it would be a good idea, Doctor? I mean, you’re you. You must have known it really wasn’t -”
“Oh, I don’t know,” he said. “I’m pretty sure I originally had a cunning plan to outsmart the Master, but then a few hundred years later I thought it might be a nice team bondage exercise.”
“Team bonding,” said Clara firmly. “And next time, just throw a party. Or take everybody away to the country for the weekend and make them assemble furniture or something.”
“But I thought orgies were supposed to be fun. That’s what… people told me.”
“In theory,” said Clara. “But they’re not everybody’s cup of tea, right? Anyway, from now on, we never talk about this ever again and I might be able to stop throwing things at you at least once an hour, how’s that?”
“Sounds good to me,” the Doctor said, and smiled at her. Then he screwed up the form and flung it across the room. “Blow that for a lark, I think we should just escape, don’t you?”
***
Crossposted from Dreamwidth -- Comments there: