john_amend_all

The first: a drabble inspired by Clara's line from the second trailer for the finale, and a certain scene in Survival.

"Right." Clara took a deep breath, rolled her sleeves up, and attacked the sofa once more. It finally juddered into the right place. By comparison, surrounding it with enough padded dustbin bags was the work of a moment.

"And that's that." Clara dusted her hands, and surveyed her night's handiwork. In a few hours, the Doctor, flying through the air after a motorcycle collision, would land on her carefully positioned 'domestic refuse' and not break his neck.

"The things I do to keep you safe," she muttered, and raised her voice. "OK. It's done. Where've I got to go next?"

The second was inspired by this news article:

"What d'ye think of this, girls?" Jamie asked, brandishing a newspaper.

Gia shrugged. "It certainly looks like a newspaper."

"That's not what I mean. Listen to this." Jamie began to read, tracking the words with his finger. "'The Mayor of Bakewell has hit out at a “world gone mad” after no insurance company would cover him to host a custard pie fight.'"

"Yeah, the usual," Samantha said. "Health and safety gone mad, blah, blah. Why's that got anything to do with us?"

"'Mayor Paul Morgans had hoped that the pie fight would be a fitting climax for the Bakewell Baking Festival, as well as a tribute to Jane Austen penning part of Pride and Prejudice in Bakewell’s Rutland Arms Hotel.'" He glanced down the page. "Looks like they were supposed to have fellows dressed up as Mr Darcy."

Isobel grimaced. "Ewww. Who reads Pride and Prejudice and thinks 'This is all right, but it could really do with a custard pie fight'?"

"An excellent question, Mrs. Turner." Victoria looked up, her countenance carefully controlled. "Zoë Heriot, do you have anything to do with this?"

Zoë met her gaze with an expression of blank innocence. "Why would I?"

"Because when it comes to shoving pies in people's faces, you have what is known as 'form'?" Gia suggested. "I should like to know how you reconcile it with your usual aversion to waste."

Zoë looked conflicted. "I gave the matter long and serious consideration," she said. "And I came to the conclusion that if a pie is meant for a pie fight, and it's used in one, that doesn't count as wasting it."

"Sometimes I despair of you," Victoria said.

"Well, I didn't have anything to do with it. But I think it's a pity it's been cancelled. We could have entered a team. Mel's got a splurge gun we could borrow."

"How come she's got a splurge gun?" Samantha asked.

"No idea, but she has."

"And who'd dress up as Mr. Darcy?"

The whole group turned toward Jamie, who ducked behind the newspaper and pretended he hadn't heard.

"I still don't see how or why anyone would want to insert a custard pie fight into Pride and Prejudice," Isobel said.

"Maybe it's a wacky alternative universe where that's what they do instead of dancing?" Samantha suggested. "Or maybe the bouncy one — what's her name?"

"Lydia," Victoria said bleakly, toying with a pencil.

"Maybe she sets it off for a laugh."

"I think," Zoë said, "it might work if the characters did it as a charity fundraiser. Only they'd have to be the versions from The Lizzie Bennet Diaries."

The pencil in Victoria's hands snapped in two; the sharpened end flew through the air, somehow ending up lodged in Adric's skull. He gasped, collapsed, and vanished in the usual puff of orange smoke.

Isobel put her hand on Zoë's arm. "I think it's better if we just agree to forget the whole thing."

"I forget nothing," Zoë muttered.

(My first thought on seeing the article was to add a 'Pride and Prejudice / any characters / custard pie fight' prompt to lost_spook's comment-fic fest. But that would have opened the worrying possibility of someone actually writing it.)

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