Because I like things to be organized and in one place.
Also because I am taking a brief break from my Religion reading. Will be back to comment and converse shortly.
In the meanwhile, the comment-fic I'm posting over at
who_otp's Drabble Tag is going here, for the sake of organization. Watch this space in the event that I ever do more, which is somewhat unlikely as I don't really know how to write most of the pairings people have requested. Which is a shame, because some of them are really quite tempting.
Also, in my class reader, I'm pretty certain that Augustin of Hippo just analogized religion and fandom. Hee.
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Things to Do On Holiday
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They had landed on Everis Four to find it shockingly devoid of giant lizards, civil wars, or hostile colonizers. It was, as yet, the first world she’d seen with no adventure to be found.
So they decided to take a holiday. They could both use it, after that business with the giant robots. There was a festival going on, too, and it looked like such fun.
She didn’t even mind too much when she learned that today was the Official Day of Matrimony, and that by wandering absentmindedly into the Halls of the Most Holy she and the Doctor were obligated to consecrate their marriage vows. Oh, the Doctor put up a fuss at first, but after a bit of convincing and a resigned “well, I’m sure it won’t be my last accidental wedding”, he played along. The threat of execution for blasphemy if they didn’t perform their duties certainly added incentive.
And it was fun, in a bizarre way. They gave her a lovely gown to wear and set off some interesting fireworks and gave her the opportunity to tease the Doctor about all the ridiculous brocade he had to wear.
It wasn't until the High Priest informed them of the (very public) Ceremony of Consummation that they decided to risk execution and make a run for it.
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History
---
The Master finds him again (or maybe for the first time) in the depths of the Kaled bunker, the wires in his unsteady hands. The face is new but he knows him all the same.
“Well, look at you, Doctor.” His voice is a purr. “Holding the life of a whole species - whole worlds in your hands all over again. Tell me, how does it feel?”
“Wouldn’t you know that?” The Doctor only risks a glance at him before his gaze goes back to the wires. “All the worlds you’ve destroyed, lives you’ve ended?”
“Are you still on about that?” He frowns at him, his face grotesque with flippancy. “Come on, can’t we let the past be the past? Water under the bridge? No? Or is it let the future be the past? I never could figure out which it would be.”
“Why are you here?”
“And besides,” The Master ignores him, “those were, are, will be - they’re such tiny little things. This -” he gestures to the incubator, to the infant Daleks. “This is a history! This is a cosmos! Races, solar systems - savior and executioner, but which one’s which? Tell me that.”
“I am not-” He doesn’t realize he’s shouting until the word leaves his lips. Then, quieter, “You do know, don’t you. You know how this ends.”
The Master smiles and leans in closer, conspiratorial. “They will burn us, Doctor,” he whispers. “Every last one of us. They will swallow planets and carve out stars.”
In the space between them the future shivers.
-----
In the meanwhile, the comment-fic I'm posting over at
who_otp's Drabble Tag is going here, for the sake of organization. Watch this space in the event that I ever do more, which is somewhat unlikely as I don't really know how to write most of the pairings people have requested. Which is a shame, because some of them are really quite tempting.
Also, in my class reader, I'm pretty certain that Augustin of Hippo just analogized religion and fandom. Hee.
-----
Things to Do On Holiday
---
They had landed on Everis Four to find it shockingly devoid of giant lizards, civil wars, or hostile colonizers. It was, as yet, the first world she’d seen with no adventure to be found.
So they decided to take a holiday. They could both use it, after that business with the giant robots. There was a festival going on, too, and it looked like such fun.
She didn’t even mind too much when she learned that today was the Official Day of Matrimony, and that by wandering absentmindedly into the Halls of the Most Holy she and the Doctor were obligated to consecrate their marriage vows. Oh, the Doctor put up a fuss at first, but after a bit of convincing and a resigned “well, I’m sure it won’t be my last accidental wedding”, he played along. The threat of execution for blasphemy if they didn’t perform their duties certainly added incentive.
And it was fun, in a bizarre way. They gave her a lovely gown to wear and set off some interesting fireworks and gave her the opportunity to tease the Doctor about all the ridiculous brocade he had to wear.
It wasn't until the High Priest informed them of the (very public) Ceremony of Consummation that they decided to risk execution and make a run for it.
-----
History
---
The Master finds him again (or maybe for the first time) in the depths of the Kaled bunker, the wires in his unsteady hands. The face is new but he knows him all the same.
“Well, look at you, Doctor.” His voice is a purr. “Holding the life of a whole species - whole worlds in your hands all over again. Tell me, how does it feel?”
“Wouldn’t you know that?” The Doctor only risks a glance at him before his gaze goes back to the wires. “All the worlds you’ve destroyed, lives you’ve ended?”
“Are you still on about that?” He frowns at him, his face grotesque with flippancy. “Come on, can’t we let the past be the past? Water under the bridge? No? Or is it let the future be the past? I never could figure out which it would be.”
“Why are you here?”
“And besides,” The Master ignores him, “those were, are, will be - they’re such tiny little things. This -” he gestures to the incubator, to the infant Daleks. “This is a history! This is a cosmos! Races, solar systems - savior and executioner, but which one’s which? Tell me that.”
“I am not-” He doesn’t realize he’s shouting until the word leaves his lips. Then, quieter, “You do know, don’t you. You know how this ends.”
The Master smiles and leans in closer, conspiratorial. “They will burn us, Doctor,” he whispers. “Every last one of us. They will swallow planets and carve out stars.”
In the space between them the future shivers.
-----