What was the Doctor thinking during "Husbands of River Song?"
She didn't recognize him. That hurt. He hadn't realized.
It had never occurred to him that there would ever be a time River wouldn't recognize him.
It was strange the things one took for granted. Like that twinkling look of flirtation in her eye. It hurt that it wasn't there.
Or that air of ownership. That, used to drive him silly. The way she'd lead him around, like a bull by the nose, all cocky and smug. He'd wanted to get away from it, to show her he was his own man.
Well, he was his own man now. And all he wanted was to be hers again.
Is this what she was like when he was
The Doctor and River's 24 year night was not all smooth sailing. Everything was new, and they were finding their feet. But some things never changed...
She snatched the garment out of his hand.
"What? River!" He scowled at her.
"You're not wearing it, Sweetie."
"Oh, so you can tolerate bowties, but a hoodie is too much?" He waved angrily and glared at her.
"Bowties have sentimental value. Hoodies are just ugly." She smiled and cupped his lean cheek in one strong soft hand. "You're too pretty to wear ugly."
He leaned his cheek into her warm hand, his backbone melting. Then he abruptly straightened. "I'm 2,000 years old, you can't tell m
When River Song and Captain Jack are in a hurry, nothing stands in their way...
Jack did a backflip off the stairway wall, landed on his feet and took off, dress shoes scuffing on the wet pavement.
River leaped over the barrier wall into the parking lot, stiff-arming herself over the brick edifice without pause.
Jack leaped over after her, bounding up with both feet tucked like a rabbit, his vintage WWII coat fluttering out behind him.
They dodged through the cars, rebounding off bumpers and boots, rolling across bonnets and leapfrogging the occasional mini's cab.
The air was hazy, cool, heavy with moisture, a dense not-quite fog. It was
Doctor Who: Join the Triumph of the Skies by BasiliskRules, literature
Literature
Doctor Who: Join the Triumph of the Skies
What to bid speak
Fate, Time, Occasion, Chance, and Change?
A very long time ago, an alarm is sounding.
“Something wrong?”
“It's the repair shop. What kind of idiot would steal a faulty TARDIS?”
(A bored one. A scared one. A desperate one, perhaps, who has good reasons to be in a hurry. Most importantly, one who despite his looks, is still too young to admit that he is an idiot.)
Even when it’s the right TARDIS, it’s a museum piece. A Type 40? Really? There’s a reason it’s in here, you know.
But sometimes, there are things that matter more than logic. Arkytior is looking anxiously aroun
Doctor Who: The Night Behind Which Is Dawn by BasiliskRules, literature
Literature
Doctor Who: The Night Behind Which Is Dawn
For what would it avail to bid thee gaze
On the revolving world?
It's as if the ice from the cryochambers is seeping into his bones, filling them with cold and unbearable weight. It takes conscious effort to look Kazran in the eye. Because how can it matter to him, right now, what he was trying to do?
"I'm sorry. I didn't realise..."
"All my life, I've been called heartless. My other life, my real life, the one you rewrote. Now look at me."
And just for a second, he wonders.
He wonders if once, some god, or perhaps some demon interfered, for a reason he never realised and can never know.
He wonders if somewhere in time there was once a
Summary: It's unnerving to travel with River Song, she tends to get sidetracked.
“River!” the Doctor yelled.
River hung upside down, a rope wrapped around one leg as she broke into a safe two stories up.
“What Sweetie?” she asked casually, her hair streaming down, as she twirled the dial.
“What are you doing?” he whispered hoarsely, looking over his shoulder, expecting guards to come bursting out of the hallway.
“Shopping,” she said with satisfaction as the safe popped open. She reached in and pulled out a dripping handful of diamond necklace. She held it up, upside down. “How do you
River Song has been captured by a band of savages, the Doctor must rescue her before it's too late.
The Doctor crawled stealthily behind the bushes, his floppy hair falling in his face, his bum stuck in the air. The aliens hadn’t noticed him yet, and if he could just get to the other side of their campsite, he could retrieve his sonic screwdriver and his wife.
His wife, unfortunately, was unconscious. She’d had his screwdriver, she’d danced backwards out of the Tardis, teasing him with it, when she’d been jumped and thumped on the head. He’d slammed the door and immediately moved the Tardis, including a few min
The Doctor and Clara find something very strange in a disappearing nebula.
"Clara!" the Doctor's yell reverberated down the Tardis corridors.
"Clara, Clara, Clara!" the Doctor poked his head around the corner, looking both ways. "Oh, there you are!" He sidled around the corner, a tall gangly man in a hoodie and a black frock coat, looking a bit like a preying mantis or grasshopper.
Clara shambled down the corridor, her hair askew. "What do you want?" she demanded petulantly.
"Where have you been?" he asked, prancing up and taking her biceps. He started dragging her toward the console r
The Doctor and River play some Quidditch.
The Doctor reached. He stretched out his arm as long as he could and wiggled his fingers. He almost had it!
Suddenly his weight shifted and he rotated 180 degrees vertically. He found himself hanging underneath his broomstick, the landscape flashing by. The golden snitch flew around him in a mockingly whirr, practically laughing.
He swiped at it, setting himself to swinging. He hastily grabbed his flying broomstick with both hands as he zoomed over the Quidditch pitch.
“Heads up, Sweetie!” River yelled and smashed a bludger toward him with her beater’s bat.
“Hey!” He
The Pond family is doing a little yard work...
River was trimming the hedges. Rory was mowing the lawn. The Doctor was using a toothbrush to polish the stepping stones, (no one told him he didn’t have to, it kept him out of trouble.)
River ran a bare foot up the Doctor’s calf as she stepped over his prostrate form, proceeding along the hedge. He kicked a heel lightly in response. Rory pretended not to see.
Amy looked up from where she was pulling weeds in the tulip bed. “Anyone for some lemonade?” she asked, pushing her large floppy “Southern Belle” hat back and wiping her forehead.
“What?”