Memeage

[jjpor]

I was really pleased with the last writing meme I responded to, I got some good stuff out of it, so here's one I picked up from atraphoenix:

Give me two characters from different fandoms you know I'm familiar with, and I'll give you a dialogue happening between the two of them. Without justifying how the crossover would work, how their worlds clashed or how they could even meet each other. Just a silly crossover conversation with no backstory, for fun.

Fandoms I'd be willing to take a stab at: Doctor Who, Torchwood (do they count as different?), X-Files, Firefly, Trek (can you write Trek fic or are Paramount still trying to sue people? - TOS or TNG), Babylon 5, Battlestar Galactica (either version), Red Dwarf, Lord of the RIngs etc., Discworld, any dodgy 70s or 80s TV show, provided I'm familiar with it....er...Buffy, at a stretch. Anything else you can thing of, I'll yay or nay it...

Can't make any guarantees about delivery times, but I will get them done eventually.

 

Comments

[ravenskyewalker.livejournal.com]

- The Seventh Doctor and Cat from "Red Dwarf"
- The Seventh Doctor being dark and mysterious, while attempting to talk to Kosh in B5
- Cat from RD and Ivanova from B5

I should be able to think of more, since classic DW and old BG were my personal favorite crossovers, but nothing else is coming immediately to mind. So, there's a start.

[jjpor.livejournal.com]

Here, you go, just for starters; Seven and Kosh:

The God Game

Overhead there were hydroponic orchards, rose gardens and outdoor restaurants. Just as there were down here; the way the landscape followed the concave curve of the station’s core made for a compelling view, but also a strangely unsettling one after a while.

“I always like to see examples of really baroque technology,” mused the little man with the brolly and the Panama hat. “Most places I go, I see artificial grav generators, inertial compensators…efficient but inelegant. Give me a good old O’Neill Cylinder any time. Wouldn’t you agree, Ambassador?” The hulking figure in the gleaming, disturbingly organic contact suit appeared to consider the idea; the landscape was not the only compelling yet strangely unsettling thing around here.

“Is beauty truth?” The figure’s voice was a soothingly-modulated monotone, clearly synthesised. “Is truth beauty? Does a blind man know when the sun shines?” The station’s internal monorail rocketed overhead, through the dead, zero-g centre of the core.

“You don’t fool me, Ambassador,” the little man said, a sudden shadow falling across his face even in the bright artificial sunlight, even as he apparently continued to consider the fields and gardens in the sky. The figure inclined its too-small head a fraction, its mechanical eye flexing like a camera shutter:

“Yes.”

“I know what you are, inside that suit,” the man continued, his voice a low rasp, full of power and menace. “I know all about creatures that hide themselves inside machines.”

“Good.” The man shot the Ambassador a deadly glance; a human would have shrunk away from it:

“And I know what you’re planning,” he added, bitterly. “I’m here to warn you, from one meddling god to another; they won’t tolerate it.”

“Shadow and metal,” the Ambassador opined. “Hunger. Hate. Skaro and Zha’ha’dum.”

“You know as well as I do,” the little man insisted, face darkening even further. “They are the only ones who are allowed to play those sort of games; their Lordly prerogative. You and your adversaries are like children compared to them; it’s no use defying them. I ought to know.” The Ambassador took this very well, considering:

“A broken throne. Usurpers in armour. Exterminate. Exterminate.”

“We know about them, too,” the little man insisted. “They’ve had their warning, and ignored it. I’m warning you, Ambassador; don’t share their fate.”

“Fire. Darkness. Loss. The song of a lonely god.” The man furrowed his brow, peering up at the blank camera-shutter eye from beneath the brim of his hat:

“I’m not sure I follow you, Ambassador.”

“Yes.” It was the tone rather than the word; the little man grimaced, the light of understanding in his grey eyes. Whatever it was, he did not like it:

“I see.”

“Yes.”

END

[ravenskyewalker.livejournal.com]

Ahh, yes, I like that -- very dark, and captures both the Seventh Doctor and Kosh quite well. I must say that I'm glad I never heard Kosh intone "Exterminate."

[hangingfire.livejournal.com]

Well, you mentioned Discworld...

Susan Sto Helit and any one of the Doctors. Feel free to tell me that this is completely insane.

[greatbriton.livejournal.com]

Nine and Scully? teeeheeee I think they would be brilliant.

[jjpor.livejournal.com]

Hope this is all right:

A Federal Case

“FBI! Drop the weapon and keep your hands where I can see them!” The man with the short hair and the leather jacket took his time turning round, the slim silver cylinder still resolutely clutched in his hand.

“I’m sorry,” he said, in some sort of English accent and a tone that suggested he was not sorry at all, “but does this look like a weapon to you?”

“I said, keep your hands where I can see them!” ordered the short redheaded woman with the big gun.

“Or what? You’ll shoot me?” The man spoke with a sort of amused contempt, but the amusement was only skin deep; there was something about his eyes, something haunted and dangerous. “Do you have any idea how much paperwork you’re going to have to fill out if you do that?” He gave a little snort of what might have been exasperation: “Look, if you’ll just let me put my hand in my jacket pocket, I can show you my ID and we can clear this whole thing up.”

“Nice and slowly,” the woman insisted; the gun did not waver, and neither did she. The man gave a little sigh and produced a small leather wallet from his jacket pocket, flashing the blank piece of card contained within in her general direction:

“Agent Smith,” he lied. “Centers for Disease Control. Maybe you’ve heard of us?” The woman’s eyes narrowed:

“You know that’s a blank piece of paper, don’t you?” For a split second, the man looked shocked; then he broke into a toothy grin:

“You know that maybe only one human in a million is immune to the effects of psychic paper, don’t you?” he asked her. “You must have an amazingly sceptical mind, Agent…?”

“So my partner keeps telling me,” she replied, not sharing his smile; she remained all prim, professional calm; the pistol remained pointing at his head, even as she took out her badge and showed it to him; hers was not blank. “Special Agent Scully, FBI. Now drop the weapon.” The man tried a different tack:

“Aren’t you going to ask me what I’m doing wandering around an apartment complex where three people have been found with exploded heads?” he wondered.

“I certainly am, sir,” she assured him. “When you’re in an interrogation room back at the field office.” She risked a glance over her shoulder without taking the gun off him: “Mulder! In here!”

“I made their heads explode,” the man said, calmly. That got her attention:

“You’re confessing to three murders?” she asked, carefully.

“Not murders,” he protested. “Vandalism, maybe. They were androids, you know.”

“Androids?” she asked, a little dubiously. “I saw the blood and brains,” she added, with a touch of anger. The man’s grin only widened:

“I know; the craftsmanship on those things is amazing; attention to detail doesn’t begin cover it.” He glanced at his watch. “Look, those lads in the black suits are probably going to be along in a minute to retrieve their robots, and I’d rather not be here when they arrive; they’d only want to dissect me. So, see you later, Agent Scully; have a fantastic life.” He did something to the silver cylinder in his hand. When Scully woke up, he was long gone.

END

[gm-andy.livejournal.com]

That was some kind of awesome. I think you did fantastic.
I never imagined an x-files/who crossover before but you know... it really would work with the correct Doctor.

[akashasheiress.livejournal.com]

Romana and Dana Scully.

[jjpor.livejournal.com]

Agent Scully...meet...Romana II (did you want II, it's just that I'm going to do I for lost_spook's request below):

Ask a Policeman

The knock on the office door was gentle but firm, quiet and yet somehow perfectly audible. Not that there was much noise down here in the basement. Agent Scully put down the case file she was reading and stood up from where she was seated on the other side of Mulder’s cluttered desk, turning around in mild surprise; they did not usually receive callers. And when they did, she saw, they were not usually callers like this.

“Excuse me.” The blonde woman’s voice was high, clear and had the quiet self-confidence of a true aristocrat. “I wonder if you could help me?” She looked as if she had gotten dressed in a charity shop; cherry-red boots, a straw hat and a dress that looked vaguely Victorian; a dress which very obviously did not have a visitor’s pass attached to it.

“I’m sorry,” said Scully, feeling vaguely unsettled, “but how did you get in here?” The woman looked at her, giving a little frown as she did so:

“Obviously, I walked in the front door,” she replied. “How else does one enter a building?” Scully wondered if she had escaped from some sort of secure hospital:

“Yes, but this is FBI headquarters,” she pointed out. “You can’t just walk in here.”

“Well, I did,” the woman answered, still giving her a funny look, as if she were the mad one. “I don’t normally have much trouble getting where I want to go. I was wondering if you could help me find the Doctor?”

“I’m a doctor,” Scully said, as gently and soothingly as she could manage; patients like this could turn violent at the drop of a hat. “Now, just stay calm and we’ll get you back home, just as soon as…” The woman practically rolled her eyes in exasperation:

“I’m looking for the Doctor,” she said, adamantly. “We became separated in the course of…well, an altercation with some…miscreants, and I’ll admit I may have become a little bit lost, so when I saw the sign on the front of your building…”

“It’s okay,” said Scully softly, as if talking to a child. “I know it must be frightening, being out by yourself…” The visitor gave her another concerned look:

“Not especially; I’m more worried about what the Doctor might do by himself. He’s always told me that if you’re on Earth and you get lost you ought to ask a policeman…well, your sign says this is the Federal Bureau of Investigation, so I thought…well, you are policemen in here, aren’t you?” She flashed a hopeful smile; she had a remarkable set of teeth that she had somehow managed to keep completely concealed until now; it was like a flashbulb going off.

“I suppose we are,” Scully replied. “Now, I’m just going to…”

“I asked the man at the desk if anybody in here knew about finding alien visitors,” the woman went on. “He said I should go down to the basement, that a Spooky Mulder could help me; is that you?” She thought about something. “He also laughed quite a lot; always nice to see people enjoying their work.”

“Agent Mulder’s just stepped out for a moment,” Scully replied, not adding that he was busy getting carpeted in Skinner’s office. Again. “Now, how did you manage to get down here by yourself?” she asked, gently and, she liked to think, compassionately. “Were you with one of the tour parties?”

“I’m sorry,” said the woman, with another little frown, “but I think I may have come to the wrong place. I’ll go and see if I can find him myself; I’m sure he’ll show up somewhere or other. Good afternoon…” She turned on her heel and left the office as suddenly as she had arrived; in the time it took Scully to run out into the corridor after her, she had, somehow, completely disappeared.

END

[akashasheiress.livejournal.com]

OMG, that awesome! I could hear their voices perfectly in my head. Romana seems to have got lost sometime during ''Shada'', no?

And Romana II is just dandy; I left it unspecified so that you could decide for yourself.

[clocketpatch]

That was highly enjoyable. xD

Perfect voices, and the laughing receptionist was a nice touch, and now in my head the aftermath to this is playing out where Scully tells Mulder about the poor women looking for her doctor and he flips out and digs out his file on The Doctor, and ooo...

[gm-andy.livejournal.com]

Heh... Ditto clocketpatch. Like him going, "No, No! A REAL Alien!" LOL

[clocketpatch]

Discworld!

Jack and Death (is that too obvious?) or Jack and Sergeant Vimes. Actually, Nine and Sergeant Vimes would also be awesome.

Just giving you options ;)

[jjpor.livejournal.com]

Here you go; Death and Jack to start with; this one came to me quite easily XD. Hope you like it:

The Choir Invisible

OH NO, NOT YOU AGAIN.

It should not be possible for a seven-foot skeleton wearing dark, eldritch robes, and carrying a scythe sharp enough to split infinitives, to look weary and vaguely disgusted. Nevertheless, this one did.

“Hiya, big fella, how’s it hangin’?” grinned the slightly transparent man with the RAF overcoat and the white, white teeth. “Long time no see.”

IF ONLY THAT WERE TRUE. The voice sounded like two trains crashing into each other a hundred miles away, under water. Death examined the hourglass clutched in His, for want of a better word, skeletal fist. It was gold and silver, with sparkly neon lighting around the glass part. And at the moment, it was running backwards.

“Man,” said the man, looking down at his rapidly-cooling mortal remains, “don’t I just make the prettiest corpse?”

I’VE SEEN BETTER, Death claimed. THE EMPRESS KATCHAGOOGOO XIV OF TSORT. THE POISON THEY USED HAD SOME SORT OF PRESERVATIVE EFFECT. I BELIEVE SHE WAS ON DISPLAY FOR ABOUT FIVE HUNDRED YEARS AFTERWARDS; THE ONLY MAUSOLEUM I KNOW OF THAT HAD ITS OWN GIFT SHOP.

“The weird thing,” said the man, far too busy examining his own lifeless face to pay heed to this monologue, “is that when I wake up I never remember this part; just a vague sense of despair and horror…”

NOW YOU KNOW HOW I FEEL WHENEVER I SEE YOU, Death commented. The man gave Him a wicked smile:

“Whatever happened to customer service? I thought you prided yourself on looking after guys like me at this difficult moment? I could do with some moral support, if you know what I mean…” If Death had had eyelids, He would have blinked in disbelief:

ARE YOU COMING ON TO ME?

“I’ve always had a thing for tall, dark strangers,” the man replied, eyeing Him up.

YOU’RE SICK; I’M A BLOODY SKELETON IN A ROBE. NOW, IF YOU’LL EXCUSE ME I HAVE A PLANE CRASH, THREE MINOR WARS AND AN UNFORTUNATE ACCIDENT INVOLVING A KAZOO TO ATTEND TO BEFORE I CAN GO HOME TONIGHT.

“Seeya later, big fella,” the man grinned, slowly fading from view. The top bulb of the hourglass was by now full of sand once more; Death stowed it away in his vestments and turned away with a busy air. His horse snickered, possibly in amusement.

I HOPE NOT, He muttered as he mounted up. The corpse behind Him opened its eyes and started gasping for air.

[clocketpatch]

ARE YOU COMING ON TO ME?

Bahaha, Perfect. Why do I get the feeling that this is a fairly regular occurance?

[ravenskyewalker.livejournal.com]

Here's one I can't resist:

- the Seventh Doctor and Delenn of B5

Considering the dark side of both characters, that could make for a seriously grim and powerful conversation.

I also wouldn't mind sarcastic conversations between various characters in old and new Galactica -- such as the original, male Starbuck and the new, female Starbuck. *snort*

[jjpor.livejournal.com]

Well, here you go; Starbuck and Starbuck, Pt 1:

Soul Mates

“Well, fellas, it’s been nice,” said the warrior with the devil-may-care grin and the big cigar, “but I’m done toying with you now.” He turned over his cards to a chorus of protests and curses from his fellow gamblers and, grin widening, reached for the pile of shiny cubits in the middle of the table.

“Not so fast,” protested the woman on the other side of the table, from behind her own haze of cigar smoke. She slammed her own hand of cards down, face up for all to see. “Read ‘em and weep, flyboy.” The warrior’s grin faded slowly:

“You’ve got to be felgercarbing me,” he groaned.

“Hey, not my fault you guys play triad like my frackin’ Great Aunt Athena,” the woman replied, with a grin of her own. It didn’t touch her eyes; they glittered at him, hard and cold, through the smoke.

“Pyramid,” the man told her, only patronising her a little bit. “The game’s called pyramid.”

“Not where I come from,” she shot back.

“And where do you come from?” he wondered, fascinated in spite of himself. “I haven’t seen you around before, and you know, the fleet’s a pretty small place.”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” She scraped together her winnings and knocked back what was left of her drink, then rose from the table.

“Well, at least tell me what your name is,” he persisted, getting up and following her, and trying to look casual about it.

“They call me Starbuck,” she answered, with another slightly scary grin. The warrior was taken aback:

“Is that supposed to be some sort of joke?” he wondered, puzzled. “Did Boomer and Jolly put you up to that?”

“Frack you,” she replied, sweetly. His grin reignited:

“In your dreams.” She laughed at that:

“Hey, you got any more booze, flyboy?”

* * *

[jjpor.livejournal.com]

And Pt 2:

“Yeah, so this raider’s on this nugget’s six, homing in for the kill, right?” She peered blearily at him, sucking on what was left of her cigar, as if anxious that he really did follow her.

“Right,” the warrior agreed, taking the half-empty bottle of ambrosia from her and taking a pull on it. They were in an abandoned corner of the Blue Squadron bunkroom, and the talk had turned, as it always did when pilots got together, to killing or being killed.

“Right,” she went on, “so this toaster, all he can see is this big fat kill staring him in the face; he wants to kill this nugget, wants it so bad, he doesn’t even see me coming up on his six. Boom; no more toaster. Target fixation, right; first thing they teach you. Always watch your six.”

“Always watch your six,” the warrior agreed.

“He’s dead now,” she added, taking back the bottle. “What was his callsign? Hotshot? Hotrod? Something like that…he’s dead. Frackin’ Cylons killed him some other time; I should have saved myself the effort.”

“Yeah,” the man replied, staring off deep in thought.

“So, Starbuck,” she said, loudly, dragging herself out of her melancholy, “if that really is your name – your actual name!” She laughed, and not in an entirely friendly way. “What do you do around here apart from drink and play cards and lie about how many toasters you’ve fragged?” He thought about it for a moment, and then gave her another, wicked grin:

“Well…”

* * *

“Oh my…” Starbuck managed to drag himself upright and immediately wished he hadn’t. “My head feels like someone flew a battlestar through it,” he protested, falling back onto his bunk.

“Can’t hold your drink?” Starbuck grinned as she finished getting dressed. “Why doesn’t that surprise me?”

“Last night?” He clutched at his head, trying to remember something, anything, through the haze of alcohol. “Did we? I mean, did we…?”

“If you can call it that,” she said.

“And are you…?” He stared at her in confusion for a moment. “Is any of that other stuff you said true? You know, the weird stuff?”

“That I’m you?” she asked, grinning. “Another version of you, from another place? Well, you know what they say; all of this has happened before, and it’ll all happen again, but I couldn’t tell you what’s true. I’m not sure you’d want to know anyway.”

“I don’t think I would,” he agreed.

“Think about it like this, though,” she added as she turned to leave. “At least you actually got to go frack yourself. Although, in your case, I doubt that’s a new experience.” And with that parting shot, she walked out of his life.

END

[jjpor.livejournal.com]

Okay, more Bab 5 - Seven and Delenn; I can't promise "grim and poweful", though:

Walkers in Darkness

“Excuse me,” said the strangely-accented female voice from behind him as he turned to leave the station’s vast and disorientating core. “May we speak?”

“We may,” the little man replied, turning to look at the speaker. If he was surprised by her outlandish appearance, neither one thing nor the other, he gave no outward sign. Instead he raised his Panama hat in formal greeting: “Ambassador.”

“Doctor,” she answered, with a bob of her deformed, hybridised head. That amused him; the twitch of a smile around his mouth, a twinkle in his hard eyes.

“You know who I am,” he said, lightly, as if pleasantly surprised.

“The Minbari know who you are,” she agreed, falling into step beside him.

“What is it that you call me again?” he wondered, searching his memory. “Something poetic; your people have a love of language, I seem to remember.”

““He Who Walks in Darkness,”” came the reply.

“Descriptive,” he commented. “And all too true, these days.” He gestured with his umbrella in the direction of the other Ambassador, who continued to stare after him with one camera-shutter eye. “Although you’re no stranger to that yourself, Delenn. You have some dangerous allies, in any case.” She did not comment on his assessment of Kosh, merely cocked her head in a birdlike gesture of curiosity, considering his words.

“You know my name,” she observed, eventually.

“Of course; I do wonder what must have happened for somebody of your stature among the Grey Council to be appointed Ambassador to this…” he surveyed his surroundings with another little quirk of his mouth; “this charming outpost.”

“My mission here is an honourable and important one,” she protested, a picture of innocence.

“Yes,” he replied, mildly. “And pretending to be an ambassador must have its moments as well.” This provoked a most un-Minbari-like smile as the ambassador appeared to realise just how much he knew.

“If you know my true purpose here,” she said, slowly, “then you must realise how crucial it is, for the future of the entire galaxy.”

“I do,” he answered as they neared the exit, resting his umbrella on one shoulder. “And I know how it is to play for those sort of stakes,” he continued. “And I know how it is to have to change, to adapt, to circumstances and to the demands of the mission.” He gestured at her long chestnut hair, unique among her race, her disturbingly humanlike skin tone. “I wasn’t always as handsome as I am now, either,” he added, with another twinkle, this time one of self-mockery.

“Then you know that what we have planned we have planned over long centuries,” she retorted. “We have made such sacrifices and sustained such losses…we cannot be swayed now by one such as yourself coming here with vague warnings. If our plan does not succeed, this entire galaxy will fall under Shadow.”

“Oh yes, I quite agree,” he replied, disarmingly. “You must appreciate, though, that my people do not think in terms of galaxies; they see the bigger picture, the whole of creation, and…” He stopped in mid-spiel, seeing her tight-lipped expression of determination, realising that he was not persuading her. “Listen to someone who knows about plans,” he told her, quietly, shooting another glance back towards Kosh. “Plans within plans and games within games…”

“Yes, we know all about He Who Walks in Darkness,” she said, with grim amusement. “We know of your stratagems and subterfuges.”

“Just make sure that you really are following your own plan, and not somebody else’s,” he told her, face darkening. “Make sure you’re playing the game and that the game isn’t playing you.”

“And what do you mean by that?” she frowned, something in her eyes suggesting that some of his words had gotten through.

“Don’t trust the Vorlons,” he almost whispered. “Don’t assume their interests are yours.” And with that, the shadow dropped away from his face; he smiled and doffed his hat once more as he stepped into the transport tube: “Good afternoon, Ambassador; thank you for the pleasant chat!” And with that, he was gone, leaving Delenn to look back towards Kosh, and wonder.

END

[evilawyer-fic.livejournal.com]

Red Dwarf's Cat and Torchwood's Capt. Jack Harkness, please.

[thisbluespirit]

Okay. Romana and Rimmer. (I leave you to decide which one, because I'm tempted to say I because I do like her best, but I susppect II might be funnier).

[jjpor.livejournal.com]

Here you go; this is my best stab at Romana I (shockingly, I don't think I've ever written fic for her before!), and Rimmer. Hope it's okay:

No Kind of Atmosphere

“Who the smeg are you?” It was an almost involuntary utterance, the kind of thing somebody said when they were so shocked that whatever was on their mind at that moment came involuntarily pouring out of their mouths. The tall, dark-haired woman turned slowly, a vision in white silk and the kind of economy-shattering jewellery you only wear if you’re God-Empress of a galaxy or someone who happens to live in a post-scarcity civilisation, and arched one perfect eyebrow in the direction of the speaker:

“I,” she replied, in what could only be described as regal tones, “am the Lady Romanadvoratrelundar of Gallifrey. And you would be…?” For a moment, the man was speechless, staring at her from the other end of the long, dimly-lit spaceship corridor. He wore some sort of khaki uniform, pressed with obsessive precision, and a matching tie, his short hair combed to within an inch of its life. His most striking feature, however, was the large silver letter “H” in the centre of his currently extremely furrowed forehead.

“Second Technician Arnold J Rimmer!” he barked when he recovered himself a little, almost springing to attention. “Of the Jupiter Mining Corporation Vessel Red Dwarf! And you are my prisoner!” The perfect eyebrow arched even more impressively, now accompanied by an extremely imperious smirk:

“And I am your prisoner?” she asked, clearly far from convinced. “Are you responsible for law enforcement on this vessel?”

“Now, let’s have none of your lip, my girl,” he replied, officiously, with a little smirk of his own: “Unauthorised personnel are not permitted in the engineering section,” he informed her. “Might I remind you of Space Corps Directive Number Twenty-Three Slash Zero Zero Nine?” Now it was her turn to frown:

“Any officer caught adorning the command bridge with fuzzy dice, novelty air fresheners or small plastic figurines of cartoon characters will be summarily dismissed from service?” She stared at him: “The Doctor told me that humans were strange,” she confessed, clearly mystified, “but I never suspected just how strange…”

“Humans?” he asked, his air of stupid self-confidence melting away in an instant.

“Yes,” she said, carefully and slowly, as if concerned for his mental state. “You’re a human and I’m a Time Lady…” His eyes widened:

“You’re an alien?” he spluttered.

“From where I’m standing,” she replied, coolly, “you’re the alien. However, it is true that I am a member of a different species from your own. As is the Doctor,” she added, irritably looking over her shoulder. “Wherever he’s gone.”

“An alien!” The man turned around and raced off down the corridor in the opposite direction, yelling orders at nobody in particular as he went: “Holly! We’ve been boarded by aliens; I’m ordering an immediate Turquoise Alert! All hands to battle stations! Arm the skutters! And an immediate lockdown of all nonessential sections of the ship! I’ll show that goit Lister; laugh at my weekly alien boarding repulsion drills, would he? The gimboid…”

“Hold your horses, dude,” grumbled a weary, disembodied voice from the nearest computer terminal. “I don’t even know what a Turquoise Alert is…Gordon Bennett…”

Romana watched the strange man run away, in slightly bemused silence, hands placed firmly on her hips. When he had vanished around the corner, she slowly shook her head:

“That must be what’s wrong with the Doctor,” she mused. “Spending too much time hanging around with them…” With another shake of her head, she turned in the opposite direction and set off in search of her companion; the sooner they were out of this place, the better.

END

[jjpor.livejournal.com]

Some great suggestions here, BTW, and I will do my best to deliver on all of them...in time... The Death/Jack one just came pouring out, the others may take a while. In the meantime, don't think I'm ignoring any of the rest of you. :D

[fluffysilver.livejournal.com]

Susan and Teatime! (Buahaha, crack pairings.)

... Can I steal this meme? It looks awesome.

[jjpor.livejournal.com]

Hey, that's what memes are for; steal away!

Susan Sto Helit and Mister Teatime (which would be my first full-on Discworld fic), or Susan Foreman and Mister Teatime? Because I can see the latter one quite clearly indeed; might work well!