(no subject)

I am COMPLETELY aware that I am not a member of our_magic_place. However, the current challenge looked like so much fun that I couldn't resist writing a response for Eleven.

You are to write a recipe, an actual recipe, for ONE of the following four things: a)a perfect mate (lover, husband, wife, etc...), b) a dream come true, c) a disaster or d) a battle of wills.

Remember, this must be in recipe form.

A RECIPE FOR DISASTER
(best when prepared by Gallifreyan High Councils.)

Approx. Preparation Time: 1,586 yrs.
Recipe makes 1 serving.

( Step into my cookbook, said the Dalek to the Cyberman. )

Probably Meta - Little!Eleven

I don't like this at all.

I can't reach the TARDIS controls, and I want my jelly babies. Everything's too big.

And I'm bored. I want to play games and things. Who's with me on this?



{Um, yes. Inspired by current TM challenge, the prompt for which I have written but is waiting for a beta. I just COULD NOT WAIT. Anyway, this is open to anyone who wants to chat, but bear in mind that if you piss her off, your shins could be in grave danger.
:D}

(no subject)

The Doctor clutched her toy for emotional support. Everything was much, much too big, and she was much, much too small. Holding the stuffed blue box helped, even if its existence was incredibly worrying. She swiped at her nose with the sleeve of her shirt and had a good look at her surroundings. She’d been in the TARDIS a moment ago, hadn’t she? Something pulled it out of the Vortex.

She was in a park, littered with seesaws and monkey bars and slides. There were swings, too, and once she spotted them, she felt sure she would think better if she was on them. She set her TARDIS on the ground for a moment to climb onto one. Things were a little better once she was swinging her short legs out as far as she could and pointing her feet toward the blue sky. The sky would look prettier orange, she decided, and spent a few minutes picturing it.

“Who are you?” A boy’s voice cut into her fun. She glared hard at the intruder and willed him to go away.

“I,” she told him with an air of haughtiness and self-importance, “am the Doctor.”

( 'Only grown-ups are Doctors.' )

Community: theatrical_muse
Prompt: 190 - You've temporarily turned into a child. What do you do?
Word Count: 1,031