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Birthday day!
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the_redjay.
I am immensely disorganised this year, so you get a bit of still evolving fic, inspired by - and spoilery for - Death in Heaven.
(Part of my Not the Last verse, and set sometime after A Good Day. This will, in time, become part of the stories following on from A Good Day. For now, it is just a little stand-alone snippet.)
Written mostly because Missy is the best thing since River Song, and wonderful to write. No knowledge of my 'verse needed, I don't think.
Title/Summary: Not what she expected.
Setting: AU post-Death in Heaven
Spoilers: Death in Heaven
Rating: PG-13.
Word count: 1000 words approx.
Characters: The Seeker (OC), Missy.
Not What She Expected
She re-appeared, but not where she had expected to.
Looking around, Missy saw she was in a TARDIS. It was brightly lit, the central column glowing golden, the walls white with a few pieces of white/red furniture along the edges. A fairly new model, but… odd. Nothing she could put her finger on immediately, but it was obviously not a standard issue - the little telltale factory specifications seemed to be missing, the ‘tools’ far more whimsical… as if a custom model. Did they do those anymore? The war had stifled any creativity…
“He was actually going to kill you,” a voice said, and she looked up to see a black-haired youth study her with puzzled green eyes. “They say travel expands your horizons, but this was something I never thought I’d see. What the hell did you do? Apart from the cyber army made out of dead people?”
For a moment she just stared, not sure how to tackle this. Was he from Gallifrey? (He was certainly not a future version of either herself or the Doctor, and that narrowed the field considerably.) She inched nearer to the console - he couldn’t be more than a few centuries old at the most, and (she did a swift mental scan) he didn’t seem to have any back-up. Maybe they’d sent him through the crack to track her down - some brilliant kid who thought he had the stuff, thinking he could earn himself a pat on the cheek from Rassilon. She almost chuckled. Bless his little cotton socks, she’d eat him alive. And his TARDIS seemed a neat little thing - she could do with transport now UNIT were probably all over hers.
A sudden smile from the lad threw her a little, as did the words that followed: “Damn clever, but did you honestly think he’d go for it? I’ve not got a lot of scruples, but - although an army like that might come in handy - even I find it a bit too macabre to emulate.”
“Who are you?” she asked, making sure he was focussing on her as she gently laid a hand on the console, stroking a switch so softly he’d never notice… Except instead she got a shock, and withdrew her hand sharply.
“Christ almighty, do you have live wires in that?”
He smirked at her, eyes dancing in a way that stopped her short.
“No - the controls are isomorphic. And I’m the Seeker. Are you planning on thanking me for saving you, or are you just going to take it for granted?”
“Isomorphic controls,” she said, recalling a very lovely laser screwdriver… “Who taught you that?”
That smile again.
“You did - dad.”
Slowly she circumnavigated the central controls, eyeing him up. Black hair, green eyes, purple jacket (very nicely cut), simple white shirt, black trousers and shoes… Not a single thing that she could pin down. Nothing to either confirm or undermine his crazy lie.
Although she might have underestimated him - it was certainly a thoroughly unexpected lie, and showed considerable imagination. She’d be sad to kill him…
Ah well, the lie could prove a useful crutch for moving forwards.
“You… are my son?” she asked, imbuing her voice with a hint of a motherly tremble, before bringing up her hand to her chest. “This is… so unexpected. I never realised… Sorry, I’m quite overcome-”
Doing a quite frankly fabulous job of ‘fumbling for a handkerchief’, eyes misting up, she was shocked at the metal object that suddenly appeared about an inch from her left heart - not to mention the knife that simultaneously touched her neck from behind.
“Don’t even think about it,” the kid said, and - eyes widening - she realised that the weapon he was threatening her with was her very own laser screwdriver.
“How the hell did you get that?” she snapped, and he tilted his head.
“You gave it to me for my eighth birthday.”
“Oh enough with the lies already!”
She was angry now (it had been a long day and all her plans had been ruined), but he merely reached out with his free hand and emptied all her pockets.
“Not lying, you stubborn old thing, and if you’d bother to turn your head, you’d see something like proof.”
Having ignored the knife, she glanced up and faltered for the second time. It was a Toclafane, clear as day. Her own beautiful Toclafane…
She was distracted when he spoke again, studying the top of her head:
“Are the hairpins poisonous?”
“Are they what now?” she asked, and he caught her eyes.
“Your hairpins. Are they poisonous? I’ll probably let you keep them, but I’d like to know, just for reference.”
“You have a very twisted mind, young man,” she said, with gravity, and he grinned at her, pocketing the laser. The Toclafane's knife, however, stayed where it was. (Bother it.)
“What else would you expect? You brought me up.”
This was getting ridiculous.
“Look, just stop it. It’s very entertaining, and the Toclafane is a lovely touch, but we both know that I never had, or ever will have, any children.”
Stepping back, he frowned.
“Oh I’m not from this universe - I thought you’d worked that out.”
She rolled her eyes. He really was impossibly stubborn, and she felt a keen urge to give him a good slap. (Whilst he was confused she could prick him with one of the hairpins… How had he guessed they were poison tipped?) But maybe not yet, let him lower his guard first.
“Well goodness gracious me, what a marvellously clever chap you are.” (Too much sarcasm? No, that wasn’t possible.) “How did you end up here? Trying to find Gallifrey and getting lost?”
It was his turn to look surprised.
“Gallifrey? Gallifrey is long gone. Burnt up and dead.”
“Oh but it’s not, you know,” she sing-songed. “And I know where it is…”
And then - he laughed. In her face!
“Even if that were true - and kudos for the double-lie, that’s impressive - why would I want to find Gallifrey? I’m planning to take over the world, I really don’t want a bunch of stuffy old idiots in stupid hats thinking they can tell me what to do. The Doctor is bad enough - did you see that fez of his?”
For a moment she was actually speechless.
Then…
“You want to take over the world?”
All of a sudden she found herself hoping that his fanciful stories were true, and in his smile - shimmering with mischief - she saw something that sparked recognition.
“Finally got your attention, did I?” he said smugly, and her eyes narrowed.
This might just have... potential.
the_redjay.I am immensely disorganised this year, so you get a bit of still evolving fic, inspired by - and spoilery for - Death in Heaven.
(Part of my Not the Last verse, and set sometime after A Good Day. This will, in time, become part of the stories following on from A Good Day. For now, it is just a little stand-alone snippet.)
Written mostly because Missy is the best thing since River Song, and wonderful to write. No knowledge of my 'verse needed, I don't think.
Title/Summary: Not what she expected.
Setting: AU post-Death in Heaven
Spoilers: Death in Heaven
Rating: PG-13.
Word count: 1000 words approx.
Characters: The Seeker (OC), Missy.
She re-appeared, but not where she had expected to.
Looking around, Missy saw she was in a TARDIS. It was brightly lit, the central column glowing golden, the walls white with a few pieces of white/red furniture along the edges. A fairly new model, but… odd. Nothing she could put her finger on immediately, but it was obviously not a standard issue - the little telltale factory specifications seemed to be missing, the ‘tools’ far more whimsical… as if a custom model. Did they do those anymore? The war had stifled any creativity…
“He was actually going to kill you,” a voice said, and she looked up to see a black-haired youth study her with puzzled green eyes. “They say travel expands your horizons, but this was something I never thought I’d see. What the hell did you do? Apart from the cyber army made out of dead people?”
For a moment she just stared, not sure how to tackle this. Was he from Gallifrey? (He was certainly not a future version of either herself or the Doctor, and that narrowed the field considerably.) She inched nearer to the console - he couldn’t be more than a few centuries old at the most, and (she did a swift mental scan) he didn’t seem to have any back-up. Maybe they’d sent him through the crack to track her down - some brilliant kid who thought he had the stuff, thinking he could earn himself a pat on the cheek from Rassilon. She almost chuckled. Bless his little cotton socks, she’d eat him alive. And his TARDIS seemed a neat little thing - she could do with transport now UNIT were probably all over hers.
A sudden smile from the lad threw her a little, as did the words that followed: “Damn clever, but did you honestly think he’d go for it? I’ve not got a lot of scruples, but - although an army like that might come in handy - even I find it a bit too macabre to emulate.”
“Who are you?” she asked, making sure he was focussing on her as she gently laid a hand on the console, stroking a switch so softly he’d never notice… Except instead she got a shock, and withdrew her hand sharply.
“Christ almighty, do you have live wires in that?”
He smirked at her, eyes dancing in a way that stopped her short.
“No - the controls are isomorphic. And I’m the Seeker. Are you planning on thanking me for saving you, or are you just going to take it for granted?”
“Isomorphic controls,” she said, recalling a very lovely laser screwdriver… “Who taught you that?”
That smile again.
“You did - dad.”
Slowly she circumnavigated the central controls, eyeing him up. Black hair, green eyes, purple jacket (very nicely cut), simple white shirt, black trousers and shoes… Not a single thing that she could pin down. Nothing to either confirm or undermine his crazy lie.
Although she might have underestimated him - it was certainly a thoroughly unexpected lie, and showed considerable imagination. She’d be sad to kill him…
Ah well, the lie could prove a useful crutch for moving forwards.
“You… are my son?” she asked, imbuing her voice with a hint of a motherly tremble, before bringing up her hand to her chest. “This is… so unexpected. I never realised… Sorry, I’m quite overcome-”
Doing a quite frankly fabulous job of ‘fumbling for a handkerchief’, eyes misting up, she was shocked at the metal object that suddenly appeared about an inch from her left heart - not to mention the knife that simultaneously touched her neck from behind.
“Don’t even think about it,” the kid said, and - eyes widening - she realised that the weapon he was threatening her with was her very own laser screwdriver.
“How the hell did you get that?” she snapped, and he tilted his head.
“You gave it to me for my eighth birthday.”
“Oh enough with the lies already!”
She was angry now (it had been a long day and all her plans had been ruined), but he merely reached out with his free hand and emptied all her pockets.
“Not lying, you stubborn old thing, and if you’d bother to turn your head, you’d see something like proof.”
Having ignored the knife, she glanced up and faltered for the second time. It was a Toclafane, clear as day. Her own beautiful Toclafane…
She was distracted when he spoke again, studying the top of her head:
“Are the hairpins poisonous?”
“Are they what now?” she asked, and he caught her eyes.
“Your hairpins. Are they poisonous? I’ll probably let you keep them, but I’d like to know, just for reference.”
“You have a very twisted mind, young man,” she said, with gravity, and he grinned at her, pocketing the laser. The Toclafane's knife, however, stayed where it was. (Bother it.)
“What else would you expect? You brought me up.”
This was getting ridiculous.
“Look, just stop it. It’s very entertaining, and the Toclafane is a lovely touch, but we both know that I never had, or ever will have, any children.”
Stepping back, he frowned.
“Oh I’m not from this universe - I thought you’d worked that out.”
She rolled her eyes. He really was impossibly stubborn, and she felt a keen urge to give him a good slap. (Whilst he was confused she could prick him with one of the hairpins… How had he guessed they were poison tipped?) But maybe not yet, let him lower his guard first.
“Well goodness gracious me, what a marvellously clever chap you are.” (Too much sarcasm? No, that wasn’t possible.) “How did you end up here? Trying to find Gallifrey and getting lost?”
It was his turn to look surprised.
“Gallifrey? Gallifrey is long gone. Burnt up and dead.”
“Oh but it’s not, you know,” she sing-songed. “And I know where it is…”
And then - he laughed. In her face!
“Even if that were true - and kudos for the double-lie, that’s impressive - why would I want to find Gallifrey? I’m planning to take over the world, I really don’t want a bunch of stuffy old idiots in stupid hats thinking they can tell me what to do. The Doctor is bad enough - did you see that fez of his?”
For a moment she was actually speechless.
Then…
“You want to take over the world?”
All of a sudden she found herself hoping that his fanciful stories were true, and in his smile - shimmering with mischief - she saw something that sparked recognition.
“Finally got your attention, did I?” he said smugly, and her eyes narrowed.
This might just have... potential.
no subject
*BOUNCES*
no subject
no subject
no subject
*SQUISH*
no subject
(Ahhh, bless you, you lovely lady! T'will all come out in the wash...but it WOULD be nice if we could fic the world brighter. Gorgeous concept. But then, that's no surprise coming from you...)
♥
no subject
You shall make me blush! Also your won fic ain't too shabby, you prize-winning person.
but it WOULD be nice if we could fic the world brighter. Gorgeous concept.
I think that's called 'being a writer'...
no subject
Mmmm...must say I heartily agree.
(Psst. Next Seeker fic, please.)
no subject
You are a good writer, learn to take compliments like a pro!
Mmmm...must say I heartily agree.
Now, how to write a novel?
(Psst. Next Seeker fic, please.)
I've yet to start my Death in Heaven meta! /o\
(Although I have the next stories all planned out. It's just... time.)
no subject
How to write a novel? Carefully. *Laughs*
Sorry, sorry...jumping the gun there. Wish there was more TIME. That is one of the major banes to a writer's existence. Time and the lack of it!
(Looking forward to those next stories!)
no subject
And 'slowly' might be a better description. Heh.
TIME is indeed the key word. (SO much stuff in my head. /o\)
<3