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The Elvenqueen,
Eviledd1984
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4 yrs ago
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Time to get back into this! It's been too long.
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8 yrs ago
Creativity is the greatest rebellion in existence.
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Most Recent Posts
___
"Well...I suppose you could say we have, but the circumstances would be a little confusing to explain. At least not without me sounding like a lunatic. A different me, but the same. There I go, rambling again. But anyway, fancy a walk? I could do with stretching my legs, I've been at the beach for god knows how long and I'm gonna go mad unless I see some people!" The Doctor replied, at first seeming unsure of his words as he spoke, but later growing more confident and playful, before eventually almost growling with his closing words. A quirky smileq uickly slapped across his face for a time as he swayed his body from left to right at the hip, his hands in the deep pockets of his blue suit and licking his teeth.
Whoo! Sorry it took so long. :)
The sound of waves and wind were ever present on the beaches of Diadem, deemed the most relaxing planet in the galaxy by many of it's inhabitants. It was the forty-fifth century of the universe's brilliant little existence, and though the man dressed in his tightly-fit blue pinstripe suit with the unkempt hair whom seemed to be the beach's only occupant knew that it was forever expanding and growing, but shrinking simultaneously. This resulted in what he liked to call 'The Expandey-thing.' When around those who didn't quite understand the laws of the ultimate fate of the universe. With a deep sigh the man known only as The Doctor rose to his feet and began to brush off the dust and sand from his suit, kicking the heels of his red Converse All-Star shoes together to remove any excess sand from their topsides. Even here, on this world where it is supposed that any man could find release The Doctor could not find any form of comfort in his solitude, his mind wandering around in itself and bringing forth the survivor's guilt of everyone he had ever failed in his nine centuries of life. Rose, Donna, Wilf. Those were the prominent names that haunted him every day.
With an enraged scream, the Time Lord launched a small, lonesome pebble short of thirty meters into the sea in pure anger. Quickly turning away from the crystal clear waters of Diadem with sweat dripping from his furrowed brow in the triple-digit heat. It was as he turned that it. No, she came into his sight. The shape of the blue police box from the Earthean nineteen-fifties being the most welcomed sight in The Doctor's life that ever had, or would be. After a few minutes of walking he found himself at the doors of the TARDIS, with the brass Yale key in hand that would grant him access to his mode of transportation through time and space. After correctly entering the key in it's lock and opening the door he ran inside, almost seeming anxious to leave the 'most relaxing planet' through some form of boredom. Which was true in every aspect of the statement. The Doctor had never been one for settling down, and even this magnificent planet was no exception to his rule. Though there was one place he could never help himself from coming back to.
Earth.
Almost non-stop in his sprint, The Doctor slammed the door shut behind him with his foot during a spinning motion and proceeded to head immediately to the TARDIS's navigation panel. Being keen on returning to Earth, but being unable to face England in his current state of mind he closed his eyes and randomly selected a place on a globe by spinning it and then stopping it with a single finger. Wherever his finger had stopped the globe by, is where he would decide to go. Fortunately for him, the globe stopped with his index finger over New York City. A place he rarely visited, The Doctor always felt a fondness for the Big Apple, especially after his defeat of the Cult of Skarro with the help of Martha Jones...He wondered how she and Mickey were doing, the last he had seen of them was when he had saved them from that Sontaran soldier about a year ago...Or was it two? Stopping himself from his mental ramblings, The Doctor straightened himself out and ruffled his hair back. Looking to the core of his TARDIS and smiling before flipping the ship's dematerialisation circuit upwards, beginning his frantic dash round the console, flicking and twisting all manners of switches and knobs, some of which he didn't even know what they did. He merely used them out of habit.
It was moments later, that the distinctive grinding and whirring sound that his ship made came to be heard as the vessel began to transport itself into the Time Vortex. As the TARDIS rolled and flipped it's way through the Vortex with The Doctor stumbling around like a madman, keeping her in flight. As those sounds began to screech again, he knew that he had arrived at his destination in a park which he had visited many years ago. The navy blue beacon of hope slowly materialising onto the green grass, trees and bushes alike being blown about in the strong wind generated by The Doctor's arrival.
"Two thousand and eleven? Well...I was only off by about a century. And don't give me that look." He said to no-one in particular, later in his speech turning to the core of the TARDIS and smirking a little before gallivanting out of the TARDIS's doors and into the park, feeling a slight breeze rustle his hair as he stepped into the open air. Stretching down and touching his toes before strolling off, his brown overcoat having been thrown over his shoulder as he left his ship. But almost immediately as he had stepped foot on American soil, he looked over to his left, and there. He saw her. That little girl whom he had once spoken to many years ago. Through all of time and space and he had found her again. Though he had to admit to himself, were it not for the fact she wore the same kind smile that she had on that day all those years ago, he would likely have walked straight past her. Instead he had stopped, and stared for just a moment.
Though apparently even that was too long.
With an enraged scream, the Time Lord launched a small, lonesome pebble short of thirty meters into the sea in pure anger. Quickly turning away from the crystal clear waters of Diadem with sweat dripping from his furrowed brow in the triple-digit heat. It was as he turned that it. No, she came into his sight. The shape of the blue police box from the Earthean nineteen-fifties being the most welcomed sight in The Doctor's life that ever had, or would be. After a few minutes of walking he found himself at the doors of the TARDIS, with the brass Yale key in hand that would grant him access to his mode of transportation through time and space. After correctly entering the key in it's lock and opening the door he ran inside, almost seeming anxious to leave the 'most relaxing planet' through some form of boredom. Which was true in every aspect of the statement. The Doctor had never been one for settling down, and even this magnificent planet was no exception to his rule. Though there was one place he could never help himself from coming back to.
Earth.
Almost non-stop in his sprint, The Doctor slammed the door shut behind him with his foot during a spinning motion and proceeded to head immediately to the TARDIS's navigation panel. Being keen on returning to Earth, but being unable to face England in his current state of mind he closed his eyes and randomly selected a place on a globe by spinning it and then stopping it with a single finger. Wherever his finger had stopped the globe by, is where he would decide to go. Fortunately for him, the globe stopped with his index finger over New York City. A place he rarely visited, The Doctor always felt a fondness for the Big Apple, especially after his defeat of the Cult of Skarro with the help of Martha Jones...He wondered how she and Mickey were doing, the last he had seen of them was when he had saved them from that Sontaran soldier about a year ago...Or was it two? Stopping himself from his mental ramblings, The Doctor straightened himself out and ruffled his hair back. Looking to the core of his TARDIS and smiling before flipping the ship's dematerialisation circuit upwards, beginning his frantic dash round the console, flicking and twisting all manners of switches and knobs, some of which he didn't even know what they did. He merely used them out of habit.
It was moments later, that the distinctive grinding and whirring sound that his ship made came to be heard as the vessel began to transport itself into the Time Vortex. As the TARDIS rolled and flipped it's way through the Vortex with The Doctor stumbling around like a madman, keeping her in flight. As those sounds began to screech again, he knew that he had arrived at his destination in a park which he had visited many years ago. The navy blue beacon of hope slowly materialising onto the green grass, trees and bushes alike being blown about in the strong wind generated by The Doctor's arrival.
"Two thousand and eleven? Well...I was only off by about a century. And don't give me that look." He said to no-one in particular, later in his speech turning to the core of the TARDIS and smirking a little before gallivanting out of the TARDIS's doors and into the park, feeling a slight breeze rustle his hair as he stepped into the open air. Stretching down and touching his toes before strolling off, his brown overcoat having been thrown over his shoulder as he left his ship. But almost immediately as he had stepped foot on American soil, he looked over to his left, and there. He saw her. That little girl whom he had once spoken to many years ago. Through all of time and space and he had found her again. Though he had to admit to himself, were it not for the fact she wore the same kind smile that she had on that day all those years ago, he would likely have walked straight past her. Instead he had stopped, and stared for just a moment.
Though apparently even that was too long.
Alright, see ya!
Fair play, I was just being curious and inquiring about a topic in which I know nothing about. No need to be a dick.
Alright :) Starting work now.
Right, got that done and outta the way. Just going to go for a smoke quickly and then I'll get started. One question I have, is how long would you like Alice to travel with Ten before he becomes Eleven?
Strange. Didn't think that was a thing. Also, high-powered prosthetic?
Got my first post up, left it open so that anyone can come over to talk with John.
Got my first post up, left it open so that anyone can come over to talk with John.
The metallic clanging sound of a nightstick beating upon the door of the solitary confinement cell compassionately known as 'The Hole' to the inmates of the Alderney State correctional facility was the first thing John heard that day, being awoken by none other than Officer Graeme. A disgusting example of the corruption in law enforcement, the patriotic American whom was in his late twenties and sported a thick, black-haired crew cut atop his youthful face. His baby blue eyes were quickly visible through The Hole's peephole as it slid open in order to allow the officer to see the inmate currently confined within. His eyes being met by the aged bluey-brown ones belonging to potentially one of the most dangerous and unstable criminals within the facility. His medium length dark brown hair was swept back, and held in place by the heaps of sweat generated from the Englishman's wrinkled forehead, with a deep sigh the man rolled over into a seated position as Officer Graeme opened the door to the cell.
"Oh what, is it time for our monthly picnic Officer?" Smith asked sarcastically from behind the most arrogant and cocky smile that had ever been seen on a human being. His accent being a blend of both Cockney and Estuary English accents and speaking patterns, as he chuckled lightly Graeme sighed deeply and began to speak. "Hardly. Today's the day your limey ass gets out of the hole, or did shit-for-brains forget?" He mocked, but struggling not to bear his teeth at Smith in disgust as the two men exchanged their conversation of concealed mutual hatred. But in an instant the officer's baton was raised up to the British Bulldog's teeth.
"I'm gonna escort you straight to the yard, you will have thirty minutes. After that you will report to Dr.Ramsay for your next psychological evaluation. Any more funny business like that stunt during the cons versus guards baseball game and I'll smash these fucking teeth of yours from your mouth. Are we clear?"
"Absolutely crystal mate, c'mon then, let's get cracking. Need to work on my tan you see." Smith joked as he stood up, being motioned to move forward by Graeme. But as he did so, the Englishman felt an incredibly sharp pain in his side as the bastard slammed his nightstick into his ribs. With a hefty groan and the severe buckling of his body to the right, John growled a little and continued to walk. Being prodded in the back of the head by Graeme's baton with every step of the journey from the solitary cells to the dirt-yard.
When the two men arrived, the young Texan gave John a shove forward and told him to 'get lost'. To which Smith quickly retorted by asking Graeme if he had a cigarette he could spare, stangely enough though, the Officer obliged for once and tossed the inmate a half empty pack of Redwoods. A lighter within the card packet. In a signal of thanks John gave a two fingered salute to the Officer and planted one of the classic American cigarettes inbetween his pursed lips, a large cloud of thick smoke bursting from his mouth moments later when the cigarette was lit. A small fireball engulfing the tip.
"Started to forget what you bastards taste like in there." He muttered to himself as he began to almost patrol around the yard, eventually finding himself by the courts within which many of the facility's African-American residents would spend their yard time playing basketball and discussing their lives on the outside. But there was a certain someone that 'Smithy' was waiting for.
"Oh what, is it time for our monthly picnic Officer?" Smith asked sarcastically from behind the most arrogant and cocky smile that had ever been seen on a human being. His accent being a blend of both Cockney and Estuary English accents and speaking patterns, as he chuckled lightly Graeme sighed deeply and began to speak. "Hardly. Today's the day your limey ass gets out of the hole, or did shit-for-brains forget?" He mocked, but struggling not to bear his teeth at Smith in disgust as the two men exchanged their conversation of concealed mutual hatred. But in an instant the officer's baton was raised up to the British Bulldog's teeth.
"I'm gonna escort you straight to the yard, you will have thirty minutes. After that you will report to Dr.Ramsay for your next psychological evaluation. Any more funny business like that stunt during the cons versus guards baseball game and I'll smash these fucking teeth of yours from your mouth. Are we clear?"
"Absolutely crystal mate, c'mon then, let's get cracking. Need to work on my tan you see." Smith joked as he stood up, being motioned to move forward by Graeme. But as he did so, the Englishman felt an incredibly sharp pain in his side as the bastard slammed his nightstick into his ribs. With a hefty groan and the severe buckling of his body to the right, John growled a little and continued to walk. Being prodded in the back of the head by Graeme's baton with every step of the journey from the solitary cells to the dirt-yard.
When the two men arrived, the young Texan gave John a shove forward and told him to 'get lost'. To which Smith quickly retorted by asking Graeme if he had a cigarette he could spare, stangely enough though, the Officer obliged for once and tossed the inmate a half empty pack of Redwoods. A lighter within the card packet. In a signal of thanks John gave a two fingered salute to the Officer and planted one of the classic American cigarettes inbetween his pursed lips, a large cloud of thick smoke bursting from his mouth moments later when the cigarette was lit. A small fireball engulfing the tip.
"Started to forget what you bastards taste like in there." He muttered to himself as he began to almost patrol around the yard, eventually finding himself by the courts within which many of the facility's African-American residents would spend their yard time playing basketball and discussing their lives on the outside. But there was a certain someone that 'Smithy' was waiting for.
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