(no subject)
Poor Velcro had his whiskers singed last night. Yes, kitty, sticking your face in a candle flame has consequences.
But apparently, so does popping over to look at random communities whose denizens are having fun mashing timelines together. Hello, tardis_crossing; elen_ancalima made me do it.
Fandom: Doctor Who
Characters: Tenth Doctor, Rose, Donna, Ace, K9, the Brigadier
Genre: gen, humor
Summary: Defeating that Rutan probably shouldn't have become a collaborative venture.
Title:
This One's Mine
"Oh, give me that," snapped Ace, snatching the Brigadier's pulse rifle and letting rip on the Rutan out in the main cavern. The blast had no effect, but made her feel better.
"Wait, I've got it!" crowed the Doctor, swiping a medallion from the Brigadier's lapel and having at it with his sonic screwdriver. The Brigadier sighed inwardly. His Doctor wouldn't have done that -- well, the second one, anyway -- the one with the white hair -- he knew whom he meant. That one would've tapped him on the shoulder and said, "Would you mind if I borrowed your medal for half a moment, my dear chap?" and even though he'd have taken it anyway, at least he would have asked.
And whatever he was going to do, it probably would have worked. Unlike the brass-enhanced sonic beam that the pinstriped Doctor was currently directing at the Rutan, which only seemed to be making it expand.
Behind him, the blonde girl was tossing out suggestions -- "Doctor, what about a temporal transducer wave generator, you almost had it finished last time this happened, haven't you come across the right wing nut since then?" -- and the redhead was shooting them down -- "I'll give you wing nuts, it's a glowy green space blob, don't you think it's taken measures against being temporally transisized, what it needs is a good hose-down with drain cleaner--" and the robot dog was nudging around his knee to get a better shot. "'Scuse me," chirped the Doctor, "I need your hat." And at least he had asked this time, but that was no comfort when he stuck the smart military cap round the corner on the end of his sonic screwdriver and it came back thoroughly slimed.
"Ooh, close one." Dropping the hat from his suddenly finicky fingers, the Doctor turned back to Donna, Rose, and Ace, who were now arguing about whether it was nice for a woman to carry a gun. (Donna, who favored the femininity and surprise advantages of unexpectedly spiky heels, was outnumbered, despite bravely refusing to be intimidated by the pulse rifle that Ace was brandishing in every direction.) When K9, the laser still protruding from his nose, rolled over the hat to put his two cents in, the Brigadier decided that was the last straw.
"If you don't mind," he said, calmly retrieving his pulse rifle and leaning round the corner. Five rapid rounds took out the support pillars, and seven hundred tonnes of slightly concave cavern roof came down on the Rutan with a concussion that blew them all over like ninepins.
The Doctor sat up, rocking back and forth in the manner of a dazed marionette. "Brute force," he muttered. "Something to be said for it, you know, once in a while." But if he pouted like an injured schoolboy and didn't let the Brigadier help him up, that was a small price to pay for finally being right.
_____
But apparently, so does popping over to look at random communities whose denizens are having fun mashing timelines together. Hello, tardis_crossing; elen_ancalima made me do it.
Fandom: Doctor Who
Characters: Tenth Doctor, Rose, Donna, Ace, K9, the Brigadier
Genre: gen, humor
Summary: Defeating that Rutan probably shouldn't have become a collaborative venture.
Title:
This One's Mine
"Oh, give me that," snapped Ace, snatching the Brigadier's pulse rifle and letting rip on the Rutan out in the main cavern. The blast had no effect, but made her feel better.
"Wait, I've got it!" crowed the Doctor, swiping a medallion from the Brigadier's lapel and having at it with his sonic screwdriver. The Brigadier sighed inwardly. His Doctor wouldn't have done that -- well, the second one, anyway -- the one with the white hair -- he knew whom he meant. That one would've tapped him on the shoulder and said, "Would you mind if I borrowed your medal for half a moment, my dear chap?" and even though he'd have taken it anyway, at least he would have asked.
And whatever he was going to do, it probably would have worked. Unlike the brass-enhanced sonic beam that the pinstriped Doctor was currently directing at the Rutan, which only seemed to be making it expand.
Behind him, the blonde girl was tossing out suggestions -- "Doctor, what about a temporal transducer wave generator, you almost had it finished last time this happened, haven't you come across the right wing nut since then?" -- and the redhead was shooting them down -- "I'll give you wing nuts, it's a glowy green space blob, don't you think it's taken measures against being temporally transisized, what it needs is a good hose-down with drain cleaner--" and the robot dog was nudging around his knee to get a better shot. "'Scuse me," chirped the Doctor, "I need your hat." And at least he had asked this time, but that was no comfort when he stuck the smart military cap round the corner on the end of his sonic screwdriver and it came back thoroughly slimed.
"Ooh, close one." Dropping the hat from his suddenly finicky fingers, the Doctor turned back to Donna, Rose, and Ace, who were now arguing about whether it was nice for a woman to carry a gun. (Donna, who favored the femininity and surprise advantages of unexpectedly spiky heels, was outnumbered, despite bravely refusing to be intimidated by the pulse rifle that Ace was brandishing in every direction.) When K9, the laser still protruding from his nose, rolled over the hat to put his two cents in, the Brigadier decided that was the last straw.
"If you don't mind," he said, calmly retrieving his pulse rifle and leaning round the corner. Five rapid rounds took out the support pillars, and seven hundred tonnes of slightly concave cavern roof came down on the Rutan with a concussion that blew them all over like ninepins.
The Doctor sat up, rocking back and forth in the manner of a dazed marionette. "Brute force," he muttered. "Something to be said for it, you know, once in a while." But if he pouted like an injured schoolboy and didn't let the Brigadier help him up, that was a small price to pay for finally being right.
_____