Really, the Doctor hadn’t meant to be out and about this long, and it’d all started out perfectly innocently. His companion has fallen ill, you see, and now that he had finally fallen asleep, the Doctor was going to get him some tea.
It was the original idea, anyway.
Four hours later, it’s starting to get dark, and the Doctor isn’t sure where he is. So, he just picks a street and goes down it, hoping for the best.
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[Now here’s a familiar face. Her smile is warm, yet coy, something teasing in her eyes.]
I thanked you.
[She pauses, looks thoughtful.]
I will thank you.
No? Never thanked?
Goodness, tenses sure are tricky, aren’t they?
+ asimplecointrick
It’s six on a school night, and the Master is nearly at the end of his research into this future life. There are a few curious entries that he’s finding it hard to read through, however. A single sheet of paper for Lilly Constantina, five pages of hand-written error warnings for one Doctor, and then - this.
He hefts the book in his hands, bemused.
Magneto: A Biography is as heavy as it was when he first pulled it out of the file, the post it note on the cover proudly yellowing that “he doesn’t like me much, better leave it be” as though anyone reading those words would be able to leave the mystery alone.
He decides to stick with his recent track of making good impressions, and arrives at Erik’s door with a really good vintage wine and a big smile. He’s still wearing the hoodie under his suit jacket, probably in retaliation to Lilly Constantina’s insistence that he should be wearing nothing but fine tailoring, but really because the zipper gives the “famed metalbender” more material to work with. So sue him, he’s interested!
(So sue him, he’s bored, his skin is itching, he’s been out of the war for a week and he’s not even been allowed one quiet meltdown in case it breaks his cover. So sue him, he wants to understand this new world he’s going to build for himself.)
Knock knock, knock knock. Erik Lehnsherr, are you in?
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It’s lovely to see someone take interest in the school but I’m going to have to remind you that it may be slightly 2 AM, and even I’m not supposed to be here.
[Has the Doctor ever mentioned he absolutely cannot stand living with himself because he can’t (and he’s not surprised nobody else can either).]
[Some few years ago for him, maybe decades, maybe more (he was always rubbish at keeping track), he told himself he was done with this song and dance, but once again he finds himself at the Brotherhood, outside the quarters of a certain metal bender.]
[I hate myself and I wish I were dead, the Doctor thinks, and knocks on the door.]
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Luna—
Erik….
And a chappy fellow.
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The Metalbender. To what do I owe this pleasure?
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What do you want?
asimplecointrick liked your post: Alright, now that I feel more human….
Are you volunteering Magneto? Because I am more than willing to bother you again.
He would have felt worse about showing up uninvited to the Brotherhood’s base, but it might have been harder to explain why he wanted to come in the first place. He wasn’t at all sure of what he could do to fix his… troubles, and only wanted to talk to Erik. Staring at the entrence, he wondered if there wasn’t a better way to announce his presence than to simply barge in. Surely there were only a few mutants that recognized him? Not to mention he didn’t know where Erik was at the moment. He might not even be here.
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A new visage presents himself in front of her. All Midgardians were once the same to the shield maiden of Asgard, but her time in the mortal realm had given the Lady Sif a sense of humility and she had grown to see the mortals’ worth. All Midgardians were different, as well as people she desired to protect just as Thor did—but she also knew not to underestimate them, too.
“Hail, Midgardian! I am the Lady Sif of the Realm Eternal,” she introduces herself to the mortal coolly. ”And who might thou be?”
Shoot me in the head, look who’s here!
I’m Keith, nice to meet you, Erik.
