Christmas Ficathon: Day 1
Yays, I wrote something! Remember, you can still go here and leave me fic requests and prompts. I need more if I'm going to make it to the 24th! Anyway, here you go with the first offering.
Title: Gifts
Fandom: Doctor Who (more or less brb_gallifrey RP 'verse)
Characters: Zagreus, TARDIS
Rating: G
Word Count: 590
Summary: The TARDIS taunts gives a gift to Zagreus.
For dragonessa24 and narcissisma who play much better versions of these characters than I could ever write. To them, I apologize and will make it up to them by writing that TARDIS/Zagreus porn I promised.
His first mistake, he thought upon awakening, was consuming the contents of a bottle labeled “drink me.” He would just have to have been that desperate to drink something left for him by the ship, but he had been so terribly hungry, and in the absence of food (the ship would have to give up the location of the kitchen sooner or later), the redolent odour of alcohol wafting from the bottle was far too tempting.
Remarkable, really, how quickly the contents of the bottle had taken effect. But then she would have known the precise substance necessary to take down a Time Lord, anti-time infected or otherwise.
“Clever ship.” He was positive those were the words he had intended to say, and he probably would have continued with a delightful and inspired oration on the old girl’s merits, but what dropped from his mouth instead was growl. And drool. He grimaced, wiping the dampness from his chin as he righted himself, blinking.
He let out an agonized howl when he saw the state of the console room.
Every available inch of space was trimmed with Christmas decorations. Wreathes adorned each steel girder, evergreen boughs dipped from the ceiling, the console dripped with tinsel, and everywhere there were lights - blinking, flashing, pulsating, completely out of sync with each other. He tried to keep up, tried briefly to determine their patterns, deduce their intentions, but the moment he thought he’d finally begun to understand, they were off in another direction, teasing and taunting. It might, perhaps, have been a visual feast were it not for the throbbing beginning behind his right eye, now spreading across to either temple. Pain, he was discovering, was not conducive to thought - linear, circular, or any other pattern. In all probability, this had been the ship’s plan all along. Clever, clever ship.
He was on the brink of sending out silent thanks that his hearing was escaping the onslaught when, as if the old girl had anticipated the thought, the console room flooded with the most garish, tasteless, thundering Christmas music known to the universe, proclaiming all it wanted for Christmas was him. And it was loud.
The old girl had thought of everything, except the Christmas cookies.
He steadied himself on the console, forearms tensing to the point of pain as he shut his eyes against the sensory overload - even the lights on the console were blinking merrily at him. The time rotor wheezed once, twice, as if begging his attention; he cracked an eyelid warily. Perched on the console was a meretriciously-wrapped package bearing his name in ornate writing. Curiosity being a perfectly natural default of his, he picked up the box, weighing, examining and sniffing alternately. Ignoring all warning thoughts of Greeks and gifts, he clawed the paper away and reached inside.
And pulled out a stuffed jabberwock, bearing its teeth in merriment. He dropped it with a start and a yelp, cradling his hand as if burnt. He let out a string of verbal nonsense, perhaps occasionally getting out a word that made sense in some language, though there really were no words for his rage. The lights on the console winked at him as he backed out of the room, turning his back on the toy beast only once he reached the doorway. He stalked down the corridor, his incessant babbling loud enough to drown out the roar of his stomach but not enough to cover the throbbing music that followed him long after he should have been out of earshot.
Title: Gifts
Fandom: Doctor Who (more or less brb_gallifrey RP 'verse)
Characters: Zagreus, TARDIS
Rating: G
Word Count: 590
Summary: The TARDIS taunts gives a gift to Zagreus.
For dragonessa24 and narcissisma who play much better versions of these characters than I could ever write. To them, I apologize and will make it up to them by writing that TARDIS/Zagreus porn I promised.
His first mistake, he thought upon awakening, was consuming the contents of a bottle labeled “drink me.” He would just have to have been that desperate to drink something left for him by the ship, but he had been so terribly hungry, and in the absence of food (the ship would have to give up the location of the kitchen sooner or later), the redolent odour of alcohol wafting from the bottle was far too tempting.
Remarkable, really, how quickly the contents of the bottle had taken effect. But then she would have known the precise substance necessary to take down a Time Lord, anti-time infected or otherwise.
“Clever ship.” He was positive those were the words he had intended to say, and he probably would have continued with a delightful and inspired oration on the old girl’s merits, but what dropped from his mouth instead was growl. And drool. He grimaced, wiping the dampness from his chin as he righted himself, blinking.
He let out an agonized howl when he saw the state of the console room.
Every available inch of space was trimmed with Christmas decorations. Wreathes adorned each steel girder, evergreen boughs dipped from the ceiling, the console dripped with tinsel, and everywhere there were lights - blinking, flashing, pulsating, completely out of sync with each other. He tried to keep up, tried briefly to determine their patterns, deduce their intentions, but the moment he thought he’d finally begun to understand, they were off in another direction, teasing and taunting. It might, perhaps, have been a visual feast were it not for the throbbing beginning behind his right eye, now spreading across to either temple. Pain, he was discovering, was not conducive to thought - linear, circular, or any other pattern. In all probability, this had been the ship’s plan all along. Clever, clever ship.
He was on the brink of sending out silent thanks that his hearing was escaping the onslaught when, as if the old girl had anticipated the thought, the console room flooded with the most garish, tasteless, thundering Christmas music known to the universe, proclaiming all it wanted for Christmas was him. And it was loud.
The old girl had thought of everything, except the Christmas cookies.
He steadied himself on the console, forearms tensing to the point of pain as he shut his eyes against the sensory overload - even the lights on the console were blinking merrily at him. The time rotor wheezed once, twice, as if begging his attention; he cracked an eyelid warily. Perched on the console was a meretriciously-wrapped package bearing his name in ornate writing. Curiosity being a perfectly natural default of his, he picked up the box, weighing, examining and sniffing alternately. Ignoring all warning thoughts of Greeks and gifts, he clawed the paper away and reached inside.
And pulled out a stuffed jabberwock, bearing its teeth in merriment. He dropped it with a start and a yelp, cradling his hand as if burnt. He let out a string of verbal nonsense, perhaps occasionally getting out a word that made sense in some language, though there really were no words for his rage. The lights on the console winked at him as he backed out of the room, turning his back on the toy beast only once he reached the doorway. He stalked down the corridor, his incessant babbling loud enough to drown out the roar of his stomach but not enough to cover the throbbing music that followed him long after he should have been out of earshot.