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crack_van2010-09-02 03:19 am
innocentsmith.livejournal.com) wrote in crack_van2010-09-02 03:19 am
Entry tags:
Killing the Groundhog by x_los (PG)
Hi, I'm ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
innocentsmith, and I'll be driving the Crack Van (Crack TARDIS? Crack canary yellow roadster?) for Doctor Who this month. I'll be focusing mostly on Doctor/Master stories from several eras; I tend to like fic with lots of twists and turns, companions being awesome, and angst that's leavened with cracky fun. Let's get underway with a little old school Who...
Fandom: DOCTOR WHO
Pairing: Doctor/Master (Three/Delgado!Master)
Length: 6811 and 2095 words, respectively
Author on LJ:x_los
Author Website:x_losfic
Why this must be read:
Most people, finding themselves trapped in a Groundhog Day-style time loop, would waste time being alarmed and gradually humbled by the unfathomable mystery of existence. Most people, however, are not renegade Time Lords: Delgado!Master just gets progressively more exasperated and creative.
The Doctor caught the Master digging a pungee pit outside the window of his lab.
“Why the devil are you engaging in partisan warfare?” the Doctor asked as the Master patiently used a laser lathe to slice clean edges on the pit, having zapped the dirt that had previously occupied the gaping hole out of existence. He'd made accompanying floor spikes out of what looked a lot like teeth. Whose teeth was unclear, but from the look of their jutting lengths they obviously belonged to something big and threatening. “Don’t you have more advanced weaponry?”
“Oh I’ve managed to obtain codes for a majority of this planet’s nuclear armaments. It’s amazing what people leave just lying about their highly guarded military facilities. I could blow up UNIT so many times over that the grandchildren of people currently in Nottinghamshire would still be getting radiation sickness and have a variety of diverting genetic issues. I’ve wondered if the death of another Time Lord would be enough to ‘break the cycle,’ as it were.”
The Doctor’s eyes narrowed. He looked a bit tired. “And what was your conclusion?”
“That it would be a shame to waste your life in an attempt to escape a plot device that can be foiled by the protagonist of an early nineties romantic comedy.”
“Anything Bill Murray can do, you can do better?”
“Why Doctor,” the Master grinned cheerily up at him, having hunched down to scatter a few more teeth-spikes across the floor, “I didn’t know you had such confidence in me.”
“What’s all this in aid of, then?” the Doctor nodded sharply to the suddenly very Contemporary-Vietnamese patch of the very British long, green lawn, wondering how UNIT hadn’t noticed and chased him off before noticing that the Master’s edges were looking a little blurry. Ah. Perception filter. And the Doctor could see the Master because he wanted to see him. And the Master knew that, and was probably, based off the Doctor's not inconsiderable centuries of experience of the man, not going to let it drop without milking it bone dry. Lovely.
“You know how you hate Conversations.” The Master appropriated the Doctor’s traditional finger quotes, used when mocking the sort of couples who Talked About Their Issues, for the occasion.
“I’m aware, yes.”
“Well, in pursuit of the previously mentioned ‘mental equilibrium’--and don’t worry, you won’t remember it, don’t go straining your poor, hobbled brain trying-—we’re going to have a congenial discussion.”
“And the pit facilitates discourse how?”
“Well the idea was that I would finish up here, sneak in my usual way and if you tried to make a break for it via the window I could point out how very unwise that would be.” The Master, who would have been an obscenely good Boy Scout, was grinning, obviously happy with his complex and deadly crafts project.
“You’re very bored, aren’t you?” The Doctor asked.
Killing the Groundhog: A Controlled Outcome and its coda, Civil as an Orange
innocentsmith, and I'll be driving the Crack Van (Crack TARDIS? Crack canary yellow roadster?) for Doctor Who this month. I'll be focusing mostly on Doctor/Master stories from several eras; I tend to like fic with lots of twists and turns, companions being awesome, and angst that's leavened with cracky fun. Let's get underway with a little old school Who...Fandom: DOCTOR WHO
Pairing: Doctor/Master (Three/Delgado!Master)
Length: 6811 and 2095 words, respectively
Author on LJ:
x_losAuthor Website:
x_losficWhy this must be read:
Most people, finding themselves trapped in a Groundhog Day-style time loop, would waste time being alarmed and gradually humbled by the unfathomable mystery of existence. Most people, however, are not renegade Time Lords: Delgado!Master just gets progressively more exasperated and creative.
The Doctor caught the Master digging a pungee pit outside the window of his lab.
“Why the devil are you engaging in partisan warfare?” the Doctor asked as the Master patiently used a laser lathe to slice clean edges on the pit, having zapped the dirt that had previously occupied the gaping hole out of existence. He'd made accompanying floor spikes out of what looked a lot like teeth. Whose teeth was unclear, but from the look of their jutting lengths they obviously belonged to something big and threatening. “Don’t you have more advanced weaponry?”
“Oh I’ve managed to obtain codes for a majority of this planet’s nuclear armaments. It’s amazing what people leave just lying about their highly guarded military facilities. I could blow up UNIT so many times over that the grandchildren of people currently in Nottinghamshire would still be getting radiation sickness and have a variety of diverting genetic issues. I’ve wondered if the death of another Time Lord would be enough to ‘break the cycle,’ as it were.”
The Doctor’s eyes narrowed. He looked a bit tired. “And what was your conclusion?”
“That it would be a shame to waste your life in an attempt to escape a plot device that can be foiled by the protagonist of an early nineties romantic comedy.”
“Anything Bill Murray can do, you can do better?”
“Why Doctor,” the Master grinned cheerily up at him, having hunched down to scatter a few more teeth-spikes across the floor, “I didn’t know you had such confidence in me.”
“What’s all this in aid of, then?” the Doctor nodded sharply to the suddenly very Contemporary-Vietnamese patch of the very British long, green lawn, wondering how UNIT hadn’t noticed and chased him off before noticing that the Master’s edges were looking a little blurry. Ah. Perception filter. And the Doctor could see the Master because he wanted to see him. And the Master knew that, and was probably, based off the Doctor's not inconsiderable centuries of experience of the man, not going to let it drop without milking it bone dry. Lovely.
“You know how you hate Conversations.” The Master appropriated the Doctor’s traditional finger quotes, used when mocking the sort of couples who Talked About Their Issues, for the occasion.
“I’m aware, yes.”
“Well, in pursuit of the previously mentioned ‘mental equilibrium’--and don’t worry, you won’t remember it, don’t go straining your poor, hobbled brain trying-—we’re going to have a congenial discussion.”
“And the pit facilitates discourse how?”
“Well the idea was that I would finish up here, sneak in my usual way and if you tried to make a break for it via the window I could point out how very unwise that would be.” The Master, who would have been an obscenely good Boy Scout, was grinning, obviously happy with his complex and deadly crafts project.
“You’re very bored, aren’t you?” The Doctor asked.
Killing the Groundhog: A Controlled Outcome and its coda, Civil as an Orange