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21 October 2011 @ 05:37 pm
comment fics: Doctor Who and Castle  
This week I discovered comment_fic, which seemed a nice way to take a break from writing non-fiction essays. I have my own story ideas to write, sure, but they keep wanting to be novellas when I want to write short stories. So I went forth and wrote little ficlets in comments. 'Tis fun! Also, I seem to write Doctor Who these days. Huh.

Title: Bluest Blue Ever
Rating/Warnings: U
Length: 284 words
Summary: for the prompt the origin of coining it TARDIS Blue

Bluest Blue Ever

“It’s a police box.”

She leaned back against the control panel, accidentally shifting the Purple Lever – colours after all being an important identifier – three spec degrees South.

“So?”

The Doctor frowned at her, decided ignoring the Purple Lever for now would be easier that getting his latest Companion to move, and went back to adjusting the Automated Pan-dimensional Rear View (which admittedly went more often by the moniker of ‘The Squiggly Bit’).

“So it’s Police Blue. Or Royal Blue, or what ever it is that they call it.”

“It most certainly is not! It’s the bluest blue ever. Incomparable, because you can’t compare anything else to a TARDIS, not at all, and especially not to my TARDIS, thank you very much.”

Finished with The Squiggly Bit, he glanced again at the Purple Lever, but moved on instead to the Zebra Handle.

“You lot might run around defining yourselves by comparisons,” he continued, “but the TARDIS is unique. Uniquely herself, aren’t you old girl? Besides, I’m sure it’s not polite. Is it polite to say you look like someone else? I’m sure it can’t be.”

The Zebra Handle didn’t really need any encouragement to be honest, but he loosened and tightened a bolt so that it didn’t feel left out.

“So what is it then?”

The Doctor turned to look at her, exasperated. What was it with humans, who always had to ask even when – especially when – they wouldn’t be able to understand the answers?

She is a TARDIS. A blue TARDIS, TARDIS Blue.”

He stepped closer and waved his screwdriver under her nosey nose. (Not that it wasn’t a nice nose.)

“Now, please move. I have to fix the positioning of the Purple Lever.”


Title: Next Stop: Anywhere
Rating/Warnings: PG
Length: 350 words
Summary: for the prompt Donna, she can’t figure out why seeing that particular shade of blue always makes her feel this way

Next Stop: Anywhere

Donna puts the saucepan full of pasta back down on the kitchen counter out of the way as John runs around her legs and under the dining table in the middle of the room. At least he tries to. The over-large police helmet – a plastic kids one some uncle got him, deep blue with a silver crest – makes him a little too tall and he bounces back slightly as it catches the table edge.

“You alright, love?” she asks.

“No stopping!” John ducks his head, scrambles under the table, and successfully comes out of the other side.

“Not even in the name of the law?” Donna asks, hands on her hips.

“I gotta go catch the bad guys!” her son shouts, already in the living room.

She doesn’t quite remember when he started this newest obsession, but she likes that he plays at being a policeman bringing people to justice rather than at killing people like the Thompson’s brat next-door. There are good guys and then there are the real good guys, and the real good guys save people.

It’s just that sometimes when she looks at him with that ridiculous hat slipping down over his eyes she gets a thrill of excitement and possibility and wonder, that John could go anywhere, anywhere at all, and he’d have the most fantastic time, running and bringing justice, and she swears that she can see stars reflected in his eyes.

It’s the blue of the helmet. It’s the colour that flashes at the heart of a diamond, that creeps in at the edges of the sky as dawn approaches, that lurks in pictures of the swirling universe. It’s so much excitement, but just behind it there’s something else. Donna doesn’t know what to call it. Fear maybe? That little voice that grown-ups have telling them that there are consequences after the adrenalin rush has worn off and that consequences can hurt. That being able to go anywhere isn’t everything.

Maybe it’s just that John’s her little boy and she’s nowhere near ready to let him go yet, however fantastic anywhere might be.


Title: Impossible Things
Rating/Warnings: PG13, SPOILERS for The Wedding of River Song
Length: 453 words
Summary: for the prompt Amy/Rory, after witnessing the Romance between the Doctor/River they remember their first kiss

Impossible Things

“We got married and had a kid and that’s her.”

“Okay.”

Amy’s glad that Rory’s taking everything so calmly because she certainly isn’t.

She’s just married her daughter (Melody, Mels, River Song) off to the Doctor (the mad man with a box who she doesn’t have faith in any more) after saving Captain Williams (Rory, the man she married but not in this time) and killing the woman who stole her daughter (who is marrying the Doctor right now) and all Amy can think about is the Macarena. This world is ending, reality being torn apart, as her daughter kisses the Doctor (a man Amy’s kissed herself) and all she can think about is the bloody Macarena.

Messing around on the village green at Leadworth, grass beneath her bare feet as she shows Rory what to do. One arm outstretched, palm down, and then the other. They’d been friends for so long that switching to being something else (even when it wasn’t something else really, just a continuation of the same but more) seemed like impossible magic. A fairytale, and she knew back then that those don’t come true.

Arm out, palm up, and then the other. Rory trying to follow and Mels lying on the ground laughing at him. He gets confused by the time she’s gotten to putting her hands on her hips and she doesn’t understand why he has so much trouble with the simplest of things. She wriggles her bum at him.

Amelia Pond grew up and she knew that fairytales don’t come true, but Amy Pond grew up as well in her own way, grew out of herself. Amy Williams believes in impossible things, like Rory kissing her, right there on the village green.

Time splinters and Amy’s by a lake watching the Doctor walk down to the shore before she’s back on top of a pyramid and Rory’s hand is reaching out to grasp her own.

“Do you remember anything?” she asks him quietly.

He tightens his grip, then she’s standing on sand with the taste of wine in her mouth and an astronaut is walking out of the water. Pyramid again and she squeezes Rory’s hand in return.

“I married you, you know,” she says.

“I know,” is the reply, but she doesn’t know if he really knows or if it’s just because she’s already told him, told her Captain they should get married like it was a order. That they were married, are married, and this is their daughter destroying reality.

Their daughter reaching to hold her back on a beach by a lake.

Their daughter kissing a Time Lord to kill him again.

“I love you,” says Amy. “You should know that as well.”


Title: (untitled Castle ficlet)
Rating/Warnings: PG13
Length: 280 words
Summary: for the prompt Castle, Team, "Can someone explain to me why I walked in on an argument about dinosaurs?"


“Can someone explain to me why I walked in on an argument about dinosaurs?”

Castle, Ryan, and Esposito all look up at once, guilty expressions across the board, like a bunch of little boys getting caught by a teacher. She’d never tell them, but Beckett loves that she has that effect on them. Those times when it seems like no one on her team are paying any attention to the fact that she’s in charge, damn it then it’s always nice to remember that she can reduce them to this.

They recover fast though. Never let it be said she has a team of complete idiots. Well, except for Castle. Maybe.

“It’s evidence,” says Ryan, handing her a slim pile of glossy photographs.

“We think Eriks got stabbed in the eye.” Esposito straightens up from leaning against the desk, backing Ryan up with body language as well as words.

Beckett remains sceptical.

“You think someone stabbed Eriks in the eye with a plastic toy dinosaur?”

“Blood on the tail matches the victim,” says Ryan.

“Lanie says it fits,” adds Esposito. “Weapon of opportunity?”

“Which suggests this wasn’t premeditated after all.” Beckett places the photographs on top of the pile of folders and paperwork building up on her desk. “Where does that leave us?”

Castle raises his hand.

Not that he waits for her permission or anything before saying, “Arguing about which dinosaur is the most dangerous of them all.”

“They’re extinct,” says Beckett.

Castle picks up the topmost photograph –showing a dark green dinosaur lying halfway under a sofa with it’s blooded tail staining the white carpet – and holds it up in front of his chest.

“Yet still deadly.”
 
 
feeling: surprisedsurprised