06/07/2022 12:05 PM  Chapter One: The Two Steves October 30, 1985 The shining neon of the Family Video store cut a hazy muted glow through the dimness of the retail district of Hawkins, Indiana. The early evening was just coming on and the darkness pressed down on the drab town like a blood swell. Cars stood dark and motionless in the parking lot and there was little movement behind the glass of the storefront, adorned with posters and advertisements for films like Back To The Future and The Terminator. A slow night... a very slow night, as the entire store had only had a handful of customers since the school let out just after 3pm. So it was rather convenient that no one noticed the phenomena that broke the silence, not that people would have been surprised to notice it anyway; since the Starcourt Mall had burned down that summer, strange and inexplicable events were second nature to Hawkins, especially to a particular group of people who knew a lot more than most people. So it wouldn't have surprised them in the least that a blue box had appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, right in the middle of the road outside the shop. It seemed to push itself out of thin air and hover there, a few metres above the glistening tarmac. Smoke gushed from the windows, highlighting the pale white light of the words "POLICE PUBLIC CALL BOX" and the glow of the lamp on its top. A wheezing, grinding sound destroyed the silence completely as the sound of what couldn't be mistaken as explosions could be heard coming from inside the small wooden structure. Suddenly, the doors burst open and a figure came tumbling out. He seemed to do a foreward roll and keeled sideways over the threshold of the door, flipping in mid-air. He would have fallen and slammed into the hard surface of the road if he hadn't reached out a hand and grasped the edge of the bottom panel, clinging for dear life. "Nonononono!" the man shouted, doing his best to keep his grip on the box, which was starting to falter with each passing second. "No, not like this!" he said, trying to hoist himself back up and back into the smoking doorway, where flames and falling debis could be seen swirling around. The box gave another sudden lurch, dislodging the man's grip and sending him tumbling to the floor. He fell onto his back and was immediately winded. Trying to catch his breath, he quickly hurled himself to his feet and made a beeline for the floating box. "OI!" he screamed. Before he could even get within an inch of it, the box suddenly popped out of existence, as quickly as it had come. The man looked at the empty air where it had been and a cold wave of dread swept over him, as if he'd just sunken into an ice-cold bathtub. His hair was long and sweeped across his head and waves. His clothes were incredibly baggy, at least two sizes two big for him and they hung loose from his thin, lanky body. A film of sweat covered his forehead and he seemed almost perpetually out of breath. "You can't do this!" he yelled, seemingly at nothing at that point with the box no longer there. "That's not fair, you can't just do that to people! Get back here!" He waved his arms drunkenly in the air and seemed to point at the night sky, breathless. "COME BACK, DO YOU HEAR ME? Come... back..." His breath seemed to catch in his throat and he collapsed, panting. Grimacing, his mouth opened wide and a bright cloud of orange mist burst from his mouth, curling in thick waves before floating up into the sky and dissipating. He groaned and looked up at him. "Still cooking... shouldn't be out here." Heaving himself upright, which seemed to be very difficult, he reached into the pocket of his oversized jacket and withdrew what looked like a metal tube. Pointing it upwards, he pressed a button on its side and a small red light flickered to life, accompanied by a high-pitched buzzing sound. After several seconds, he released the button and held the tube close to him, seeming to read invisible readings. "Earth... why is it always Earth?" he said to himself. He stuck his tongue out and licked the air frantically. "Graphite... oxygen... and a hint of takeaway pizza. Must be America. Great." Stuffing the tube back into his pocket, he limped further on down the road, eyes darting back and forth, searching for any indication of where (and apparently when) he was. He hadn't even gotten a few inches towards the south before he heard a loud and stern voice coming from behind him. "Hey, dingus! You're late! We didn't agree to these extra night shifts just for you to goof off!" Whriling around, he found himself looking at a tall freckle-faced woman. She wore a dark green jacket emblazoned with Family Video on the breast and she looked incredibly stern and annoyed with him for whatever reason. He could do nothing but stare at her, trying not to completely collapse from the storm of pain that seemed to be welling up inside his chest. "Hey, Steve!" she said, raising her hands in annoyance. "You're late and... what are you wearing?" Looking down at his baggy clothes, he realized nothing was fitting him anymore. New body; he'd almost forgotten. Looking back up at the woman, he tried to force some words out. "Erm... I think--" "Are you drunk?" she snapped. "Steve, man, come on!" "Wh... who?" he said. "I think you've got the wrong--" "Whatever, if you wanna do that stuff in private, don't do it on company time," she said, striding up to him and grabbing his shirt, pulling him forwards. "We've got a ton of rentals to put away and Pete will flay us alive if the world cinema section isn't alphabetized by ten." He could do nothing but follow her lead; he had so many questions. Who was she? Where was he? When was he? And who the hell was Steve and why did she keep calling him that? Helpless, he allowed himself to be dragged to the front door of the Family Video store and shoved inside. The brightly lit interior hurt his eyes at first, he could barely make out the titles and the elaborate images on the video tape box covers. He vaguely recognized a lot of the titles on display - The Goonies, Poltergeist, Return of the Jedi, Raiders of the Lost Ark, The Thing. 1980s... he thought. Early-to-mid 1980s. I should have known, everything's bigger. He felt his body hit the high counter as the woman let go of him. Steadying himself in case he should collapse again, he caught a glimpse of the name tag attached to he jacket. Hi - my name is Robin. "Robin..." he said. "Robin, yeah?" She paused and turned around to look at him again. "What the hell is wrong with you? Are you sick?" Her face softened slightly and she took a step forward. "Steve, what happened?" That name again. What was with that name? Shaking his head, his legs gave way again and he clung onto the countertop, grimacing in agony. Robin leapt forward and put a hand on his back to steady him. "Oh my god, Steve, are you okay?" "I'm NOT--!" he made an attempt to shout, but he could feel it coming on again. That undeniable rush of energy forcing itself out of him. He couldn't let her see this, it would give him away too easily. She'd be on the phone to the police and he'd be locked up and dissected in a matter of moments. Gently pushing her off of him, he rushed around the corner, looking for somewhere he could hide. To her, it would look like he was about to throw up. Spotting a door, he barged through it, finding himself in a small bathroom. Bracing himself against the sink, he opened his mouth and the same glowing orange mist poured out; a lot more forceful and defined this time, and it lingered in the air a little bit too long. "Steve, what the hell? What is that?!" he heard from behind him. Robin was stood in the door way, pale-faced and looking more than a little scared. He couldn't really hide it from her any longer; she was smart and she'd have figured out for herself eventually. Taking a step towards her, he managed to get a full sentence out for the first time since he'd bumped into her. "Listen..." he said, hands pressed together. "Whatever you're thinking, you're probably right. But I'm not who you think I am," "Why are you British all of a sudden?" she asked, noticing the thick accent he was speaking with. She suddenly stopped short and glanced frantically into his eyes. "DId they do this to you? The Russians?" He shook his head incredulously. "What? No!" "If they're hanging around again, we've got to go find Dustin and the others, we've got to get backup right away!" she said, turning to race out of the door. He suddenly lost his patience and slapped his head with the palm of his hand. "LISTEN! My name is Alex Smith - I'm a Time Lord from the planet Gallifrey in the constellation of Kasterborous. I have no idea where I am, when I am or what I look like. My father's ship exploded, I'm stuck here, my head hurts like hell, I don't have a clue why you're talking about Russians, and WHY THE HELL ARE YOU CALLING ME STEVE?!" The silence was deafening. Robin could do nothing but stare. At this man who called himself Alex, a Time Thingy from the planet Whatdoyoucallit and something about a ship. And he didn't recognize the name Steve. This was too much asshatery for one night. Suddenly, there was the crash of a door and heavy footsteps heading into the shop from beyond the bathroom door. "Hey, Robin!" a voice called out; the same tone and timbre as Alex's voice, yet American. Alex didn't dare say a word, he was too incredulous to say anything else - so this must be Steve. Robin just continued to stare at him. "Robin!"  the voice called out again. "In here!" she finally responded. The footsteps grew louder until they arrived in the doorway and another man stepped through it. A horrifying realization dawned on Alex at that moment. He hadn't looked at himself yet, and he finally caught sight himself in the grimy mirror overhanging the sink. He gazed at his reflection for a moment, then back at the man now standing behind Robin. It was the exact same man. Same hair, same face, same eyes. Everything. Alex was an absolute perfect replica of Steve. Eyes widened in both amazement and horror, Alex looked back at his reflection and then at Steve. "What...?" he said, taking a step closer until he was right in front of Steve. "What?!" "Steve, what's going on?" Robin asked timidly. "... What." Alex said finally. Reaching a finger out, he gently poked Steve in the nose. "I mean... not bad. Ears could be a bit better." "Robin, why does this guy look like me and why is he touching my nose?" Steve said, eyes darting to Robin. "I have no idea," Robin said in almost a breathless whisper. "Do you have a twin brother you never met?" "I don't think so," Steve said as Alex suddenly leaned down and pressed his ear against Steve's chest. "One heart," Alex said, straightening up. "No risk of a paradox, then. But... wow..." He started to pull on Steve's cheeks, parting his lips and glancing at his teeth. "Robin. Get him off me," Steve said, his speech garbled as Alex started clicking his fingers abruptly into his eyes. Getting irritated by this point, Steve sharply shoved Alex out of his space and took a step back. But Alex wasn't done yet, as the metal tube was out again and this time he was running its red beam over Steve. "Interesting, Mr. Spock," Alex said, reading the results closely. "You're human. Perfectly ordinary and unremarkable. So why did I choose this face?" "Robin, I want you to go call Dustin, this isn't good," Steve said, turning to Robin. "If this is the Mind Flayer again, I don't know how we're going to handle it this time." "No, no need to call anyone!" Alex said, stepping around the two of them to stand in the doorway. "This is just a bit of a horrible coincidence that happened a little too quickly. You see, I was regenerating in the TARDIS, and... oh... oh no." He looked up at the ceiling as if invisaging something suspended there, and sighed in despair. "The TARDIS! I've lost the TARDIS! It was exploding and... I fell here." He turned to focus on the two humans in front of him again. "You're right, Steve, or whatever your name is, this isn't good. If I'm stuck here with nothing but a sonic screwdriver and a replica of your face and body, then that means hiding isn't going to be easy. Am I right in assuming we're in the 1980s?" The two said nothing, just nodded. "Brilliant! Gold stars for you two... not that giving out points was ever my thing before, but maybe it is now. I just need to use a phone; can you do that for me?" "Woah, I don't know about this," Steve said, getting in between Alex and Robin. "He could be anybody and from anywhere, we don't know who he's calling, he could be sending the Russians straight in on us." "Russians?" Alex raised an eyebrow before his face broke into a smile. "Oh, you humans and your Cold War paranoia. It never gets old. But no... I'm nothing to do with Russians. I just need to get in touch with Captain Jack Harkness, he's with Torchwood." Judging by the blank expressions on their faces, neither of them had heard of Torchwood. Rolling his eyes, Alex turned on his heel and strode out onto the main shop floor. "Never mind, you won't understand; one thing's for sure, I need to get out of here as soon as..." But it was happening again. The pain was rising inside him and another burst of regeneration energy, signifying that the process wasn't completely done yet, was coming. His legs turned to jelly once more and he collapsed into a shelf of video tapes, knocking them to the floor in a rattle of plastic and metal. It wasn't long before Steve and Robin came running. "I forgot, I'm still cooking," Alex said, looking up at them. "I need... I need you to get me out of here. I can't be seen, not like this." "Help me get him out to the car," Robin said, rushing over to Alex, grabbing an arm and draping it over her shoulder. Steve looked at her as if she'd grown an extra head. "You've got to be kidding! I'm not helping some random freak who stole my face!" he said, folding his arms stubbornly. "Steve, first of all, I'm pretty sure he would have made it obvious if he'd gotten your face from somewhere. And two... who'd want to steal it anyway? Now shut up and help me!" Robin snapped, trying to heave Alex off the floor. "I don't understand how someone so skinny can be so heavy." Groaning, Steve eventually joined Robin in grabbing Alex's other arm and heaving him off of the floor. It took them a few minutes to finally reach the front door of the shop. Robin held the door as Steve hauled Alex through it and towards his car parked in the almost deserted lot. Without warning, Alex leaned forward and started to wretch. Rearing his head back, another jet of orange mist poured from his mouth and began to curl upwards into the foggy night sky. "Regeneration... so reliable..." he said lazily, before he fainted dead away, almost pulling Steve onto the floor as his body finally gave out. "What happened?" Robin asked as she rushed over to where Alex lay. "I don't know, he just fainted," Steve said, looking up at Robin. "Robin, what the hell is going on?" "Looks like you've got yourself a doppelganger," Robin said. "And trust me, that's not good news." "You bet it isn't, there's someone else with my entire look on their backs. Do you know how long it took to perfect this hair? A long-ass time, Robin, this is so embarrassing." "This goes beyond that, dingus. Doppelgangers are often seen as a symbol of bad luck; they're meant to be examples of paranormal phenomena, the spiritual opposite of their counterparts. An alter-ego. For all we know, we could be looking at your evil twin right here and now." The two looked down at Alex; even unconscious, wearing baggy clothes and displaying all the characteristics of a complete fruit loop, one thing was for sure. There was no denying he was the complete double of Steve "The Hair" Harrington. 0 Comments

06/03/2020 08:46 PM  A Word from the Future. [ft. Thirteen] So... apparently I have a repuation for tearing out hearts with my writing. As much as that flatters me, I wanted to try my hand at a much softer, warmer and funnier approach to my character - show that he isn't all about doom and gloom. A few feels crop up, but there was no getting round it because it was necessary for the overall story. Even if you chuckle once while reading this, then I've accomplished my goal. This piece also contains an excellent guest spot from Thirteen Skadoo, who very kindly agreed to write a small section (and subsequently made me cry with it) - it made the piece rounder and fuller and I'm so thankful she wrote it.  The time teen crept toward the door of his father's closet like a thief on jewel heist. He'd successfully dodged the laser beams, the complicated lock system, the night-vision cameras and the holographic three-headed dog and finally his prize was ahead of him. A closet packed with jackets that the Doctor had managed to hide away from Alex before he and his trusty spray can of bleach could get to them. Not so much hidden away now, were they? "As brilliant as Dad is, he can sometimes be bone-dead stupid," he thought to himself.  Alex reached out a hand and gently opened the door of the walk-in closet, bracing himself for more booby traps on the other side. What would it be this time? A paint-can on a string? A sea of plugs lying with the prongs upwards, ready to cause his feet a great deal of pain? The Master in a bikini? But there was nothing. Just an empty closet... and a treasure trove of jackets, all of different colours and sizes. Red, TARDIS blue, black, lilac, even one in golden brown. This time teen was going to have a field day bleaching all of these. Surveying the scene around him, Alex approached one of the racks and pulled out a very attractive-looking red velvet with shiny black buttons. "Hmm, this could do with a little re-styling," Alex muttered, pulling the can of bleach out of his pocket and shaking it so that it would spray properly onto the material, stripping it of all colour and texture. Gently, he laid the hangar holding it on the floor and spread the lapels and sleeves out so he could get a good, clear shot at it with the bleach. But before he could finally start spraying, he heard a rustle from somewhere on the other side of the closet. Alex froze, the bleach can held aloft, his finger just about to press on the pressure mechanism. It sounded like... something scuttling about. A bug? A mouse? An Adipose? Stuffing the can back into his pocket, Alex turned around and approached the back wall of the closet, jackets and clothes surrounding him on all sides. There, one of the jackets had twitched in the dim light! He saw the material rippling! There was something in here with him, but whether that something was good or bad remained to be seen. Alex reached out a hand to snatch the jacket - it was a nice-looking one too, it could die a noble death with the other one - and sure enough, the material twitched again. "Gotcha," Alex said to himself and pulled the jacket aside. Before he knew what was happening, long swatches of thin material, looking a lot like never-ending coat sleeves, had knocked him off his feet and he landed on the ground hard. In his desperate attempt to get up and escape, they had wrapped themselves around his legs and were pulling him from the floor, quickly turning him so he was hanging upside down. The jackets were alive, and they were starting a mutiny! Alex struggled frantically, trying to pull the living material free from his legs, but they held on way too tightly. Looking ahead, he saw a jacket uncurl itself from one of the hangers and approach him, looking a lot like his father... except he was invisible. "Stop hitting yourself!" the jacket shouted, a sleeve slapping Alex in the face. "Stop hitting yourself! Stop hitting yourself!" About five times did this happen before he was yanked backwards and pinned to the wall. The jackets descended on him, wrapping themselves around his entire body. He was trapped! The jacket mutiny was in full swing! Suddenly, the room was filled with the sounds of electrical beeps and whirs. A formal female voice called out, "Incoming Transmission! Incoming Transmission!" A woman fizzed in from the Tardis holographic matrix. She wore short blue trousers with yellow braces and a black shirt with a rainbow graphic across the chest. She had short blonde hair that tucked behind her ear that had a shimmering silver chain that dangled around it and warm friendly hazel eyes. A broad smile across her face as her eyebrows shot up, “Hi!” she said with enthusiasm. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. He won’t thank you for it.” She takes a step closer to him, “Oh my god just look at you.” The smile slipped from her face, “Sorry I can’t actually see you, but was it convincing?” She thought for a moment, “Never mind, best not to talk back. I’m just a recording, after all.” His eyes widened as he realized that this was a future incarnation of the Doctor, his father... in female form but still undeniably his father. "Dad... I can't breathe!" he called out as the jackets started to wind their way towards his mouth. "Let me out of here!" “Alex, I know, I know. Just let me talk. It me your dad…or your mum.” She pursed her lips for a moment thinking about, “Well, right now in your Tardis I’m your dad. I had a bit of an upgrade. Anyways,” she said as she started to pace the space with her hands on her hips, “Things haven’t been really great between you and me.” She looks down stopping her pace and then suddenly she looks into his eyes, “I want to tell you I’m so so sorry for that. Right now, I’m having a really hard time communicating my feelings.” She gave a slight smirk, “Guitar strings sing me better right now than words. But that not helpful for a time teen who just needs his dad, yeah?” Her hologram shimmers as she steps closer to him, she looked as though she was studying his face through time. “Son you can’t keep doing this.” She said pointing to the pile of jackets, “I mean they are just things, easily replaceable. But, it a choice, and that single choice is an echo through time. Like a pebble being tossed into the lake, it ripples.” She said gesturing with her hands an expanding circle. “This want of destruction it is going to build and bubble until destroying jackets aren’t enough. Where will it end? You are a Time Lord you are one of the most powerful beings in the universe, and you don’t even know it. You could destroy a whole civilization with one intention, one action, or even the wrong word.” She says her brow furrowed and her eyes pleading. Alex looked past the hologram of the Doctor and spotted the jackets lying on the floor, spread out. He was going to destroy them... but what was he hoping to achieve by doing that? The Doctor, the Doctor he knew right now, to shower him with loving affection and give him anything he asked for - whether that was a hug or a trip somewhere? What if jackets became people? What if jackets turned into something he could seriously cause harm to if he really wanted to? He felt the guilt and shame rise up in him as he heard her words. “I know you, son. You are a beautiful soul that has the potential for so much good and kindness. But it comes down to a choice. Right here, right now. Because right now it more than what do I do to get ol’ dad’s attention isn’t it? It about becoming the Time Lord you were meant to be.” Her gaze drifts to the floor before looking back into his eyes, “I will always love you, no matter what.” She nods to him, “Make me proud, yeah?” A tear slid down Alex's cheek as he looked back on how things had been recently with the Doctor. Not the best, no. There were days where he felt loved and appreciated and listened to, and some days where he felt like the Doctor would rather anyone else in the world but him for a son and that he was the biggest waste of space in the entire universe. "But what do I do?" he pleaded. "Why doesn't he like me?" Suddenly the words “Exterminate.” come through the recording. The Doctor spins around and then looks back at Alex, her eyes are wide with fear. She grabs a light blue raincoat with rainbow trim slinging it over her shoulders, “Sorry son can’t stay and chat. Got get a shift on.” Her hologram fizzles away as she sprits away her coattails fluttering behind her. As soon as the hologram vanished, the jackets immediately released their hold on Alex and he went sprawling to the floor. Scrabbling to his feet, he looked at the jackets he had been planning to bleach and immediately, without even thinking, he picked them up, replaced them neatly on their hangers and put them back. The future Doctor's words still swirling in his brain, he crossed to the door and opened it. The Doctor... his Doctor... was on the other side, shades on and coffee mug in his hand. "Enjoy yourself?" he asked him, looking over his glasses at him. But Alex didn't say anything. Shaking slightly, he passed the Doctor and ran out of the room. The Doctor turned to watch him go, smiling slightly. "Nice job, future me," he said softly, taking a sip from the coffee mug. "Although I hope my coffee skills get better." 0 Comments

06/03/2020 08:45 PM  And how do you feel about that? (CS) Character study prompt questions, answered IC. I've tried to make some things as detailed as I can, but there were a few things I probably keep repeating so sorry if it gets a bit tedious. Still had a blast picking apart my character's brain though; definitely a lot of possible directions you can take here though. The time teen found himself being manhandled into the therapist's room by the tight hand of the his father. "Dad, I don't wanna do this," he groaned. "What's wrong with a pint of cider and a chat?" "A lot if you're involved," he said sternly. "I'll be back in an hour." And with a swish of his velvet coat, he was gone. "Alex Smith?" the man with horn-rimmed glasses said. Groaning, Alex dragged his feet to the stereotypical long red leather couch and threw himself down on it. "Yeah yeah yeah, you're here to work on my feelings; constructive rather than destructive; my father's jackets symbolize the lack of attention I feel I'm getting from him. I've met Freud, you know, and I can tell you that a lot of his practices were questionable at best." "I'm just here to ask you a few questions, Alex," he said, looking over his notepad at him. "There's no judgement going on here, you know. You can say and feel however you want. Your father won't know about it unless I feel it poses a risk to yourself and others." Thinking that he might as well get comfortable if he was going to be here for an hour, Alex rolled onto his back on the couch and stretched himself out. "Go on. Shoot," he said with a bored tone, his eyes concentrating on the ceiling. Describe your first love. "First love? In what way?" "In any way you want it to mean, Alex. It doesn't necessarily have to be romantic." "Well, I guess my first love was chocolate. Dad wanted to shut me up? Just shove a massive bar of Galaxy in my hand and I'd be preoccupied for hours. Always had a sweet tooth. But if we're talking about people, then I suppose you could say my father. I've been with him a long time now and even though we don't see eye to eye... that man is extraordinary. Brilliant. Sensitive. Kind. Brave. A little bit bonkers. I guess it's a lot of pressure to grow up in his shadow when there's so many people around him all the time; but I've always loved him, even if I've almost torn myself apart trying to show him that." What frightens you? I suppose it's the thought of being alone. And I don't just mean without people around me; people are like trains. You miss one and there'll be another in a few minutes. No, I mean genuine loneliness. It's just you and your thoughts and there's no one there to let them out to, and they keep building and building until it's one massive hurricane of disaster. That and being forgotten about; no one likes being forgotten about, but when you're a Time Lord with nothing but time on your side, then you don't want to spend your existence in this universe with no one remembering you. It's awful. How do you communicate in a relationship? By bleaching their jackets and making fun of their hair. What was your childhood like? Hard, let's just say that. Hard because I was spending my time maturing around people who weren't my kind and I knew I didn't fit in. I was often doing and saying weird stuff that made me stick out like a sore thumb, which didn't help. I didn't really have any of my family around, so that also didn't help. Even when Dad found me, it was rough-going. I just saw all these people coming and going and being left behind was the worst part; I wanted to see the universe, I wanted to make something of myself, but it was always Jackie's kitchen and her terrible kitchen. I know it was to keep me safe, but at the time, it felt like a slight. What is your character's favourite treat to themselves? Ever heard of a little Earth-born TV show called The Golden Girls? I have every episode stashed in my cupboards in my room on the TARDIS. Makes perfect viewing when I need a few insults to add to my repertoire. How does you handle stress? Ask Dad. He's got a closet-full of proof. Describe something you are reluctant for others to know. That I secretly saved the TARDIS manual when Dad disagreed with it and threw it into a black hole. I know Dad knows the ship better than anyone who has ever flown her, even River, and she knows exactly how to please her -- but you never know what secrets she'd hiding. There's a few tricks I intend on trying out with her.De Describe something you are passionate about. Fair play. Acceptance. Kindness. Not being afraid to speak. What do you find comfort in? The piano. It sounds ridiculous, but whenever Dad and I have a really bad argument and our personalities are clashing, I work it out on the piano. May have written three concerto's and an opera, but I don't like to brag. You could say that's what I should be focusing my energies on all the time, but whatever. What kind of music do you like? Oh, now we're talking! Music is my absolute lifeblood. If there's something Dad and I share a very common bond with, it's music. Rock and roll and punk rock is what I've been into lately, but I can get down to some showtunes and a bit of R&B, I'm really not picky. Quickest way to anger you. Ignore me. Try it, I dare you . What was the best thing in your life? Freedom. Was and always is the best thing I've ever had and the best thing my family ever gave me. What would you give your life for? My family, in a hearts' double beat. What seemingly insignificant memories stick with you? Accidentally turning myself into a baby and having to watch Dad turn into a gooey mess every time he saw me. It was nice to re-live that part of my life again, even if that cheered him up for a little while. I'd never go back though. Those diapers itched. Do you have a nickname? If so, how did you get it? Son. I got it just by existing, I suppsoe. Who do you consider a role-model? If I said Dad, it would be too obvious and I don't think he'd like it. So I'm going to say Martha Jones, probably one of my favourite people Dad ever travelled with. She had so many feelings and so many insecurities, but she dealt with them and rose up stronger than ever. She was also not afraid to put people in their place. That's something I wish I had the confidence to do more. What is your hobby? Time-Lord-and-demon terrorizing. Describe your worst enemy. Time. It's a bitch. What do you do when you wake up? Brush my teeth. Pee. Eat a croissant. Pee. Ask Dad complicated questions about the universe. Pee. Ask Dad complicated questions about the universe. Eat. Ask Dad complicated questions about the universe. Bleach some more jackets. Pee. A memory you wish you could erase. The look on Dad's face when I let him down again. 0 Comments

06/03/2020 08:45 PM  Never Be Mine. I'm probably being a stuck record with this one cause this is the nine millionth angsty drabble I've written, but I have a lot of feelings tonight and I wanted to get them out. A massive part of this drabble is inspired by the song "Never Be Mine" by Kate Bush, a song that's a bit of a loneliness anthem for Alex. A funnier, light-hearted drabble is coming soon, but for now, bear with me as I work this one out. This is what I want This is where I want to be This is what I need This is where I want to be This is what I want But I know that this will never be mine...   Alex trudged into the TARDIS on the heels of his father, who didn't really bother to turn to look at him. The time teen dragged his feet begrudgingly, not really wanting to leave the location they were in. Not until you've talked to me, Alex thought as he forced himself through the electric blue doors and into the warm white light of the console room. "We're not seriously leaving, are we?" Alex said, standing in the way of the doors. "I mean, really? We're just going?" The Doctor took one look at him and pulled the door mechanism lever hard. The doors swung shut with a harsh bang behind Alex, almost hitting him in the back, making him stagger across the ramp towards the console. "It wasn't even that big of a deal. I only implied that Jim Morrison wouldn't be around for much longer, I didn't outright say "You're going to die in seven days", did I? That's not exactly breaking every law of time and space." Still no words. Not even a pensive upwards glance at him. "Come on, let's just go back and say we had a bit too much to drink or something," Alex said, approaching the console and resting quivering hands on it, fiddling with a switch but not pressing it. "Then we can... I dunno... go see the concert. I've been looking forward to it all week." Nothing. He was tapping co-ordinates into one of the monitors and double-checking the time rotor, ensuring the ship was ready to leave. "You promised me," Alex said, looking up at the Doctor. "You promised me you'd take me to see them one day, and now that day has come, I accidentally make a mistake and you pull the plug on the whole thing? Come on, Dad, that's a bit over the top now, isn't it?" Nothing. And with that, that familiar wheezing and grinding could be heard echoing from the bowels of the console and Alex could feel the ship dematerializing from the shabby Los Angeles back-alley they had landed in only an hour beforehand. The concert had only been a good two hours or so away. He was going to suggest they get some food - some of those classic Los Angeles hamburgers served by waitresses on rollarskates - but he'd said something a little too loosely and without a word, the Doctor had marched him out of there and back to the TARDIS. This was his "special time" ruined, and he couldn't believe it. "Will you at least answer me?" Alex said, his patience starting to wear thin. "You seem to have an answer for everything, then tell me why you've suddenly decided to promise me something and then snatch it away from me. Does it make you feel big? Does picking on me make you feel like you're doing a good job, because I've got news for you, it doesn't!" Nothing. Except maybe a flash of the angry eyes, but it had come as the Doctor had moved behind the central column on the console and the light was a little too blinding for Alex to make out exactly what he'd seen. A flash of anger. Or was it a smirk? Was he enjoying doing this to him? Was he enjoying making his life a living misery? "I bet Rose would have got to see them," Alex said, a note of bitterness coming into his voice. "I bet you're going to take me all the way back to the university and then it'll be 'Bill! Nardole! To the TARDIS, we've got a concert to go to!' and I'll be left to mark your stupid essays;" Nothing. He was trying to do that parent thing of ignoring your child when they started seeking attention negatively. Ignore it and it'll go away. Well, not this time, he thought angrily. I'll never back down after this. You don't get to do this to me and pretend it's nothing. I'm not some boring ordinary Earth-kid in some self-obsessed book for people who couldn't use common sense. I'm Alex Smith, the Doctor's son and I want to see the Doors and my stupid father is making sure that I never get the chance. "Seriously, what is with you treating your companions like royalty? They all dump or die on you in the end," Alex said, circling the console menacingly. The name Clara flashed through his mind and it almost came spilling from his lips to hang like a noose in the room but he thought better of it. He often forgot that all memory and recollection of Clara had been erased from his mind and under no circumstances could he be reminded of it. Similar as to what happened to Donna, except this time he definitely wanted to cause some damage now. "You know, out of all the years I've been with you, I've never asked for anything," Alex said, getting more and more frustrated. "Not one thing, not even 50p to buy sweets. And the first thing I ask for, you take all the right steps to screw it up, as usual. Yet when some mongrel from Earth shows up, you're swanning around like Thelma and Louise. Seriously, Dad, screw you!" He aimed a kick at the base of the console. The ship gave a nasty hissing sound and finally the Doctor looked at him, but it wasn't the doting, complying father he was trying to bring out. It was the angry, I've had enough of you father that liked to shout. "Take me back!" Alex said. "Take. This. Thing. BACK!" He kicked the console again and this time he felt a pulse of electricity rush up the console. His angry cry echoed around the console room, bouncing off the hundreds of bookshelves lining the balconies. You could probably have heard it all the way from the rainforest towards the centre of the ship. And with that, the tantrum started. With frantic precision, Alex aimed a series of kicks and punches to the console. Sparks and debris sprayed from its panels like fireworks. The ship protested by making a high-pitched buzzing sound and then a pained sort of wail as Alex rained blows and kicks down on her. When he'd had enough, he spotted his father's guitar propped up against one of the metal jumpseats and stomped toward it. Tearing it from its stand, he threw it down the staircase that led underneath the console. He could hear the strings twanging as they caught on every step; he thought he even heard one of them snap. He crossed to the chalkboard and kicked it over, stamping on the wood until it splintered under his foot. Grunting with exertion, tears spilling from his eyes, he kept kicking the chalkboard until a scream erupted from his lips. "I HATE YOU!" he shouted, turning to look with wild eyes back at the Doctor. He was just standing there, arms folded with the "you're the one being an idiot here" he nodded toward the door and Alex noticed the ship had stopped moving. He looked at the doors and though he could hear... music. The intro to "Light My Fire" was playing, and it wasn't what he'd been so used to hearing on the album he'd played to death. Shaking his head, the Doctor once again crossed to the console and pulled the lever again. The ship moved again and Alex's hearts sank as his dream concert faded away with every moment. "Room. Now," the Doctor said bluntly. Feeling deflated and upset, Alex rushed to the Doctor. "Dad, I'm sorry. Please, I didn't mean it, really I didn't. Why didn't you tell me? Please, let's go back and have a nice time, what do you say?" "Room," the Doctor said. "Dad, I'm sorry," Alex said, more tears spilling from his eyes. "I'll fix everything, I promise. "ROOM!" the Doctor shouted, rounding on Alex. "Stay there." Trembling, Alex rushed down the stairs, seeing the thrown guitar lying on the ground. He bent down to examine it. Several of the strings had broken and the neck had cracked in several places. He went to pick it up but he heard a stifled "GO!" from above him and the time teen ran. Down corridor after corridor, feeling the ship lurch and jostle as she made it clear she was not happy with him. Finding the door to his room, he wrenched open the door and slammed it shut. Several long tearful hours later, he came back up to the console room. The Doctor wasn't there, but Nardole was. "Where's Dad?" he heard himself ask. "Out," said Nardole bluntly. "A little bird told me you had a little... outburst earlier. Caused quite a bit of damage." "It was an accident, but never mind that, where has Dad gone?" "Bill needs help moving into her new house so your Dad went along to help. Tea?" he said, holding up a teapot that seemed to come out of nowhere. "No," Alex said, sinking into a chair. "No, thank you." "It's for your own good, you know," Nardole said. "Maybe if that destructive streak of yours was curbed a bit, then maybe your Dad would be a bit less hard on you, hmm?" But looking back over my shoulder You're happy without me... 0 Comments

05/18/2020 11:38 PM  While My Guitar Gently Weeps. Drabble in reveng--I mean response to Hell of a Bird's (heartbreaking, feels-destroying, amazing) drabble. Let's hope it breaks a few hearts as well. Alex Smith lets his fingers glide over the strings over the sleek black guitar in his hand. It was difficult to make them out through the thick shades he was wearing - pinched from one of his father's (bleached) jackets - but he let his fingers do the talking.  The time teen had been a keyboard player for a long time but had decided he wanted to pick up the guitar, and he wanted to believe he was making a good job of it. He definitely wasn't as adept at it as his father was - his father had a way of turning a song into something magical that you could just sit there and listen to for hours, although he wouldn't admit that. He was so engrossed in the guitar, he didn't notice his father walking in, clutching a small box in his hand. Still not noticing him, he got up and stepped onto one of the staircases surrounding the TARDIS's console room.  Strumming a rather unneccesarily convoluted chord, he let it ring out - a tad out of tune and way too much vibrato - and held his hand out, the way his father would do when he did something badass with a note. Peering over his glasses, he noticed the Doctor standing in the room. He let a small smile creep onto his lips. "Looks cool, doesn't it?" "No. It looks like you dropped yourself into the laundry machien instead of your tighty-whities," he said. "You quite finished?" Alex put his hand down to the guitar and strummed one more chord, letting the sound echo around the console room before slapping his hand on the fretboard to stop the noise. "For now." Resting the guitar against the nearby wall, Alex turned to see the Doctor holding a strange-looking box out to him. With just one glance at it, he could see the Gallifreyan writing embossed on the lid. With his limited knowledge of Gallifreyan, Alex couldn't read everything put in front of him, but he'd recognize that writing anywhere. He'd written it out plenty of times. "STELLA," it read. Mum's name, he found himself thinking. Stunned, Alex took the box and held it in his hand. The warm touch seemed to soothe him a little, but a million and one questions raced through his head. They were about to spill out of his mouth when he looked up to ask them, but the Doctor had already started walking back toward his sorting. Deciding not to barage him with so many questions, he decided they could be left for another time - he knew how broody he got when it came to the past. Sitting himself down on the step, Alex caressed the Gallifreyan inscription before opening the box. Immediately, he saw the photograph. Picking it up, he noticed the smiling face of his mother - so long gone, but the pain still not healed quite yet - looking back at him. Next to him, a long-ago incarnation of the Doctor. He'd seen his father live out so many lives that they all seemed to blur together like paint in water. Rifling through, he held some flowers and several notes in his hand. What struck him most was the piece of paper with the crossed out words except for that one line. Had all of these really belonged to his mother? Was he holding the long-stored relics of their romance - the romance that had resulted in him? A tear ran slowly down Alex's cheek as he remembered the loving embrace of his mother, whom he'd found himself marooned with, with nobody except for each other. How they'd clung to each other, riding out each storm that came their way, hoping they wouldn't drown. The overwhelming pain and sorrow when he'd lost her, some of that still stabbing at his hearts. But what didn't occur to the Doctor was that maybe Alex had a secret box all of his own, gathering dust somewhere. Replacing the lid on the box, he held it tightly to him as he passed the Doctor and went to his own room. He opened one of the vast wardrobes in the wall and rifled through old clothes and shoes, some he hadn't worn since two regenerations ago. Finally finding what he was looking for, he heaved a similarly-sized box, a similar Gallifreyan itching on the lid - except he knew exactly what it said: ALEX. Placing it on his bed, he opened the lid. Quite an assortment of items lay in there. A small teddy bear with a red ribbon around its neck; a baby's pacifier; a small piece of paper with a handprint printed on it in green paint - a very small, child's hand. A handful of Gallifreyan coins and a folded blanket with gold stars etched into it. Leaving his room, Alex followed the sound of the Doctor working until he was stood in the doorway. He cleared his throat confidently. "So, if we're sharing some memories... I thought you might like to have this. It was collecting dust, too." Holding out the box, he waited for the Doctor to take it before he suddenly hugged him. This wasn't something he'd done since the Doctor had regenerated into this form, his resolve becoming as steely as his father's. He wasn't a hugger, but maybe he'd make an exception for this sweet face. "I love you," Alex heard himself say, pressing his head to the Doctor's chest.   Mood Music: While My Guitar Gently Weeps by The Beatles 0 Comments

08/04/2019 09:39 PM  I'm Still Waiting. And the storm is coming back Maybe you’ll be coming back But baby, I’m still waiting - Kate Bush, ‘I’m Still Waiting’ The time tot was thrown back into consciousness as the pain took hold of his body again. Opening his eyes, he saw that the electric cattle prod was back, and this time with a vengeance. The Master seemed to be taking every liberty he could to get him to regenerate again; to snatch away every one of his thirteen lives as fast as he could. But Alex Smith held on, and he held on tight. Once the pain and the screaming had subsided, Alex looked up, sweat coating his brow. The security guard standing in front of him just looked like a black shape in the dim light, but he couldn’t mistake the Master standing behind him, that evil grin still on his lips. “This one’s stubborn,” he said. “He’s going to do everything he can to hold onto this face. As vain as his father.” Alex couldn’t even be bothered to answer that. “Try again,” the Master commanded. “Take it up a notch.” Then the pain and the screaming was back. Alex felt like his insides were going to burst out and cover the floor of the small cell he’d been inhabiting for what seemed like an eternity. About twice a day (he’d stopped trying to measure how long the days were by now), the same two people would enter his cell; the Master and the security guard, to inflict the daily quota of pain onto him. Alex felt his knees buckle and he collapsed onto the floor, sweating and hyperventilating from the exertion. The guard reached out a foot and kicked him hard in the side, sending him rolling onto his front. He saw the blurred face of the Master leering down at him. “You think you can win this, but you won’t,” he said. “Sooner or later, I’ll take another life from you. And another, and another. Until you learn now to question me again, brat.” And with that, the two of them were gone, slamming the cell door shut. “You okay?” an American voice called out to him. “Hey, Alex; talk to me, buddy. You okay?” Alex heaved himself off the floor and sat down on the small bed that took up most of the space in the cell. “Not really, Jack,” he said. “How are you doing?” “Oh, the usual,” Jack said. Alex looked over to a corner outside the cell. Chained to a series of pipes along the wall was Jack Harkness. The two of them had been holed up together in the basement room ever since the incident had occurred where the Master had murdered Alex, causing him to regenerate. Not a moment went by where Alex didn’t think about his father… what had happened to him? Had the Master made him regenerate too? Would he ever see him again? And most importantly, what did he look like? Not once had the Master given him a chance to see what he looked like now. Probably a way of messing with his head, what the Master always did best. The thought of never seeing what he looked like drove him insane. “Jack…” Alex said. “I’ve never asked you, but what happened to Dad? After I regenerated?” “Alex,” Jack said, a note of sternness coming into his voice. “You don’t need to know anything else except that your Dad is alive, okay? He’s alive and he’ll figure out a way to get us all out of this.” “Don’t lie to me,” Alex said. “You want me to think the Master didn’t do anything to him? I’m not a kid anymore, Jack. At least I don’t feel like a kid anymore. Just tell me what happened. Please.” “No,” Jack said. “I promised your dad that I’d keep you safe, and that means keeping you safe from anything that might have happened to him.” Alex just sighed and lay down on the bed, taking deep breaths and trying to shake off the pain that still clung to his insides. “Am I ever going to see him again, Jack?” he asked timidly. “I don’t know, kiddo,” Jack said, leaning back onto the pipes. “I really don’t know. But knowing your dad, you will. Just gotta keep hoping, that’s all we can do.” “What about Martha?” Alex asked again. “Is she safe?” “I can definitely say that yes, she is,” Jack said. “And she’s coming back. Just remember that.” For the first time since he’d been locked in here, Alex cried. Sobs wracked his body and his whole body ached with grief. Here he was, stuck in a cramped cell, with a new body he’d barely had a chance to get acquainted with, and his father out there, most likely suffering. Somewhere where he couldn’t get to him and stop it. To save him for a change, to thank him for all the times the Doctor had saved him. Jack heard the child’s crying and he just stood there and listened to him. He’d died so many times, especially now when the Master insisted on using him for his own plaything, but hearing Alex go to pieces over what had happened to his father, he really wanted to die right then and there. He had heard and seen a lot of things in his very long life, but to hear a child cry and not be able to soothe them… that was the worst of all. Some time later, the cell door eased open again. Alex jumped up from his bed and huddled down in the corner of his cell. “No more,” he moaned. “Please, no more. Anything else… just no more.” As usual, the Master entered the cramped space. He looked down disapprovingly at the time tot, huddled on the floor, begging for mercy. “Ugh, you’re so pathetic,” he said. “It’s actually quite funny. No, we’re not playing that game today, kiddo.” He clicked his fingers and the security guard came in behind him, holding what looked to be a black plastic bag. “We’re going to be doing something else,” the Master said, rubbing his hands together. “Get you out of this cell for a bit. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? It must get so boring being cooped up here with girly man over there.” He cocked his head towards Jack in the corner. “You sure you haven’t got some sort of kinky agenda behind this set-up, Master?” Jack called out from the corner. “All tied up, so you can do what you want with me. You sure it’s Lucy you’re in love with right now?” The Master looked at Jack and ran a finger across his lips. “Shut up, I’m trying to have a conversation with this sweet young thing. Unless watching him die again is something you want.” Jack fell silent. The Master crouched down in front of Alex. “We’re going outside, Alex. Let’s go visit Daddy, shall we?” Alex looked up. “He’s alive?” he said, desperately. “My dad’s alive?” The Master nodded, cupping a hand to Alex’s cheek. “Oh yes, he is, kiddo. And he misses you so much. Let’s say we go and say hello, shall we?” Alex nodded. The Master put a hand into his and pulled him up from the floor. “Is he okay?” Alex asked. “I just want to know.” “Oh, he’s doing just fine!” the Master said. Alex wasn’t sure if it was sarcasm in his voice or not. “Come and see.” Without another word, Alex felt the plastic bag being put over his head and then he was being led out of the cell. “Hey! Where are you taking him?” Jack called out. “Don’t you dare! You leave him alone!” The Master didn’t answer, but he still continued to frogmarch Alex out of the room and up a set of stairs. “Daddy’s so looking forward to seeing you, kiddo.” Alex didn’t say anything from under the bag. He didn’t want to waste time saying anything to the man who had caused all of this to happen. That had caused him so much pain and suffering. He just hoped that Jack hadn’t been lying to him. After the stairs, he felt himself being led through a door and then forced down into a chair. “Doctor!” he heard the Master call out. “I have a surprise for you!” Faintly, Alex heard the squeak of what appeared to be a wheelchair in his ears. That was when he felt his two hearts sink. A wheelchair could only mean one thing… and it wasn’t good. Now he didn’t want the Master to take the bag off of his head. He’d rather face the cattle prod again than see what was in front of him. “Dad?” he said, but the bag muffled his words. “Speak up, Alex,” the Master said. “Nice and loud for your old dad to hear.” The bag was removed, and Alex almost screamed. His father sat in front of him, but it wasn’t the father he’d seen before he regenerated. What sat in front of him was a withered old man in a pinstriped suit. His face just stared at him from sunken eyes, a small tuft of white hair clinging to his scalp. His expression was blank and emotionless, but he could see in his eyes that it was the Doctor, his father. “Dad…” Alex said. “Dad… what have they done to you?” The Doctor didn’t answer, he only stared. Alex looked up at the Master, still towering over him. “What have you done to him?!” he shouted. “What have you done?!” “Now, now, Alex,” the Master said, bending down. “Aren’t you happy to see your darling father?” Alex looked back at the Doctor and almost burst into tears. This was all his fault. If he’d only listened and hadn’t tried to play the hero, none of this would have happened. He’d still be the person he was and his father wouldn’t be sitting here like this. “Aww, I think the time tot is about to cry,” the Master chuckled. He crossed to the wheelchair the Doctor was sitting in and wheeled it closer to Alex. “Look, Doctor, your little boy is going to cry. Don’t you want to hug him? Take him in your arms and tell him you love him forever and ever? Don’t you want to comfort your baby boy?” The Doctor just stared into Alex’s face, his expression still blank. Except for a tear running down his cheek. As soon as Alex noticed it, he broke. He put his hands up to either side of his father’s head and pressed his forehead close to him. “Dad… I’m so sorry!” he sobbed. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen!” The Master just stood, watching and grinning. This is exactly the sort of reunion he had hoped for, and it was just going to get better. “I love you, Dad,” Alex continued. “I love you so much, Dad. Please, just talk to me!” “I think that’s enough for one day,” the Master said, standing up. “Say bye bye now, Alex. You won’t be seeing your father for a long time now.” “No!” Alex shouted, as more security guards appeared seemingly from thin air and dragged him up from the chair. “No, I’m not leaving him! Let me go!” As Alex was dragged away, the Master crouched beside the Doctor in the wheelchair and lifted one of his hands. “Bye-bye, son! Love you!” he called, a sadistic grin on his face. “DAD!” Alex screamed. “LET ME GO! DAD!” The Master leaned over and whispered in the Doctor’s ear. “You try anything and I’ll kill him. This time for good, do you hear me?”   0 Comments

07/10/2019 02:14 PM  Rootless. Rootless. Alex felt the stern grip of Captain Jack on his shoulder as the two of them, along with his father and Martha, carefully walked into the room where the press conference was happening. He knew that what they were here for was incredibly dangerous, and his father had been adamant that he be taken to a safe place, but Alex had rallied against the Doctor. For once in his life, he knew that this was a situation of life or death - he had never met the Master personally, but had heard all about him, and if his father was going to face a potentially deadly fellow Time Lord, he felt he needed to be there. "I'm not a baby anymore, Dad," he had said. "I can fight my own battles." Eventually, and very reluctantly, his father had relented and had turned to Jack sternly. "If anything happens, you get him out of there," he said. "I don't care what happens to me, but take care of him, you understand?" Alex Smith knew he was making a big mistake. But that was the thing, he was a baby, purely through natural Gallifreyan biology. That was why the Doctor had almost sent him away with Jack, and boy did he realize that now as they walked into that room. His hearts were thumping in his chest. He wanted to grip onto his father for comfort, but he knew that doing that would break the illusion of fading into the background and they'd be toast. The boy glanced over at the figure sitting in the chair just in front of the American President. The Master; the man he'd heard so much about. His father's greatest friend and subsequently his greatest enemy. The one who had revealed himself back on Malcassairo at the end of the universe, as the only one who had survived the Time War, and the only one like him and his father. He'd stood next to his father and watched that man burst into orange flame, and a new voice rang out from beyond the doors of the TARDIS. If he had been terrified then, he was terrified now. Of not only the Master, but of what the Doctor would do to stop him. Alex didn't even hear the words that the American was saying on the podium, all he could do was stare. How could these people be so blind to such villany? He glanced over at his father, who was holding up a silver object on a chain. "If I can get this round the Master's neck," he whispered. "Cancel out his perception, they'll see him for real." That was when it flashed into Alex's head. Maybe this was his chance... to save the world again, just like he'd done at Canary Wharf (although that had resulted in the loss of Rose and his father's depression, which still plagued him to this day, years and years later). Jack's hand tightened on his shoulder. "Don't. Move," he heard Jack say in his ear. "Your dad's got this." But those words fell on deaf ears. All of a sudden, the Toclafane were in the room, swirling around the crowd's heads, their blades jutting out from their bases glimmering in the harsh halogen lighting. Those things could cut him down in a split second, but the time tot did not care. All he wanted to do was run up to the Master, slip that chain around his neck and reveal to the Earth what a monster he really was. He didn't even see the President being murdered before their very eyes, his body disintegrating into dust, or the Master standing up and giving his great speech to the peoples of the Earth. All that existed was the two of them, like two cowboys about to have a shoot out. Pushing Jack aside, Alex snatched the chain from the Doctor's hand and raced toward the platform the Master was standing on. "ALEX! NO!" the Doctor yelled. Before he even got an inch near the platform, he felt the weight of several men slam onto him and he was wrestled to the ground. The Doctor sped forward to reach him but he too was restrained. "We meet again, Doctor... oh, I just love saying that!" the Master said, that evil grin spreading across his lips. "STOP IT, STOP IT NOW!" the Doctor yelled, looking frantically at Alex on the ground. "Let my son go, Master! He's done nothing, he's just a child! It's me you want, Master, ME!" "Aaah, Alex," the Master said, ignoring the Doctor, looking down at Alex in mock pity. "The last time I saw you, you were this big." He lifted up two fingers, his lips pouting. "Look at you now. Just as arrogant as your dear father." He reached an arm out and beckoned. "Bring him here." The guards started to wrestle Alex off the ground. The Master registered the presence of Martha and Jack in the room. "Oh look, it's the girlie and the freak. Though I'm not sure which is which." Incensed at the sight of Alex being assaulted, Jack streaked towards the group of guards holding it, but was cut down by a quick blast from the Master's laser screwdriver that he had quickly removed from his jacket. "Master, just calm down! Look at what you're doing, just stop!" The Doctor pleaded. "If you could see yourself... you'd seriously harm a child?" "Not just any child, your child, Doctor," the Master sneered. "I lost everything, I think it'll make us even, eh?" By now, Alex was in front of the Master. "Master..." Alex stammered. "You don't want to do this. Dad and I... we don't want to fight you, we want to help you." The Master slapped Alex hard across the face. "Don't tell me what I don't want to do, you arrogant child. You're just desperate to be like dear Daddy, aren't you? Make him proud of you? You've already let him down... and the universe down, thinking you could save them." Alex glanced and saw Martha bending down over Jack, his eyes pleading with her to do something, but he knew it was no good. They were trapped, all of them. Tears brimmed in his eyes and spilled down his face. "Dad!" he cried out, looking at his father below him. "Dad, I'm so sorry." "Aww, blubbering little baby," the Master said, drawing closer to him. "Pathetic. I think you need a change of attitude. And a change of face." He waved a hand to the guards surrounding them, pistols drawn. "Kill him." His father's screams rang in his ears as the guards opened fire. Bullets pumped through Alex's body, spraying blood onto the floor and walls. Alex writhed in agony as his innards were torn apart, collapsing to the floor and vomiting blood from his mouth. All he could muster was a pained choking noise. The Doctor was still screaming, this time coupled with those of Martha. "YOU MURDERER!" Martha said, leaping up from Jack's body. The Master did nothing but laugh. "Now sit back and watch the fireworks, boys," he said, crossing back to the chair. "Kiddo's first regeneration, they're always a whopper." Alex tried to stumble to his feet but the weakness in his body quickly stopped him. His vision was starting to blur and he continued to cough up blood from his mouth. He looked down at his hand and noticed a faint orange glow was starting to form, getting stronger and brighter with every second. He glanced over and noticed the same on his other hand. It was starting... the one thing him and his father had mentioned, but never really talked at length about. Because it couldn't happen, not to him. It was then that the pain started, the most agonizing pain he had ever felt as every cell in his body began to be rewritten. Erased and created again, like a videotape being taped over. He noticed the same orange glow beginning to form around his vision, stinging his tear-streaked cheeks. "Dad..." he choked out. "I love you," he managed to shout before the energy fully took hold and burst. Regeneration energy almost filled the room as it poured out of Alex's head, hands and feet. Papers on the tables flew in every direction and chairs fell over with the rush of air that appeared. The Doctor looked on, tears flowing down his cheeks as his son regenerated, unable to get him through that painful process that he had gone through many times but always feared. Because it was literal death, and it had come for the one other person he loved. Suddenly, the burst of energy came to a stop and the boy lay on the floor, except it wasn't the same boy. He looked up, brushing away sweat from his brow. This boy looked older, still a lot of youth in his face. Stubble clung to his face and chin. He heaved himself with great difficulty and looked at the Doctor. "Dad... I don't feel so--" a deeper voice said, before he collapsed onto the floor. There was a loud gasping sound as Jack revived, shaking off the weight of yet another death. Getting up, he noticed Alex on the floor. "Where's Alex?" he asked. Noticing the same clothes but a different face, he shook his head in disbelief. "No... no, this can't be happening." The Doctor gave one almighty heave and the soldiers were knocked to the floor. He sped over to Alex and took him gently into his arms. "I've got you, I've got you," the Doctor said, trying to sound soothing. "Just take a deep breath, it'll pass, I promise." But that was all he could get out, as the guards leaped up and tore Alex away from him. "JUST LET ME HELP HIM!" he screamed. "HE'S MY SON!" "And I don't care," the Master said, giving a mock yawn. "I forgot how whimpy you could be, Doctor." He nodded at the guards carrying Alex awkwardly. "Take him, lock him up. Do something, just get him out of my sight or I might vomit." The world swam before Alex as the guards wrestled him out of the room. All he heard was more screaming... the worst screaming he had ever heard in his life. He didn't know whether it was his father, Jack or Martha, the sounds just blurred together. He didn't even register the fact that he had just regenerated, for the first time in his short life. But it hurt. It hurt a hell of a lot. 0 Comments

10/16/2017 06:16 PM  Rules - Updated & Revised 1. This is pretty obvious but it should be said anyway - I am not Chris Pratt nor do I have any association with him, Marvel, Doctor Who, the BBC or any movie/TV company, as much as I'd love to. 2. This is primarily a Doctor Who RP account, but I do encourage and welcome crossovers. I have knowledge of other verses such as Sherlock, Star Trek, Star Wars and a little bit of Marvel (although I am by no means an expert). Don't be afraid that because I'm immersed in the Whoverse that I won't write with people in other verses. 2b. I cannot stress this enough; this character is AU (alternate universe). I am not trying to act like my character is 100% canon or trying to rewrite any canonical history of the Whoverse. I made him up purely for fun, because that's pretty much what RP is all about. If you don't like the idea behind him or you don't agree with the background I've created for him, then please feel free to delete me. 3. I am a para to multi-para roleplayer. I can extend to novella, but usually I don't really have the time to sit down and write a super detailed, lengthy reply these days due to my schedule. I will always try my best to make sure you have something to work with and that I am writing to the best of my ability. 3b. This may sound a little arsey, but there's nothing I hate more than people who choose to write with me, then make little to no effort when it comes to the actual writing. When I talk about "little to no effort" I mean not really giving me anything to work with, or writing a two line paragraph when I've written three full length paragraph. I know everyone gets busy, but it's only fair that if I make an effort to give you a good reply, you should make the same effort back, even if that takes a while. 3c. Literacy is key. Typo's and grammatical errors happen every once in a while, but they shouldn't happen all the time. Please try to be as literate as you possibly can while writing with me, it's just less frustrating when I'm trying to figure out what you're saying. 4. No godmodding or metagaming. This drives me round the bend big time and I've had it happen so many times during my time here. Unless I give you permission to control my character or the environment around them, do not even try it with me, because it's not fair and it's annoying. RP should be an equal playing field, not some sort of power struggle where someone's trying to gain the upper hand to look clever. Metagaming (randomly giving your character knowledge they didn't have in the past to gain an advantage) I also frown upon; character development is important - let your character make discoveries gradually, not just say they know something all of a sudden when they didn't five minutes ago. Engage in any of these and you will be deleted. 5. I will write with multiples. I'm really not that picky, and the Whoverse is full of wibbly-wobbly timey-wimey stuff so parallel universes and parallel versions of character is perfectly acceptable and possible. I do have main roles in my character's storyline (the Doctor, Clara Oswald etc) that are occupied by other people and these mains will have priority. 5b. "I RP the Doctor ... I can't write with you because that means your character's his son and I don't want kids." Nope, it doesn't. Parallel universes, remember? 6. I have a zero tolerance policy on OOC drama. A lot of the time, I am very laid-back and chilled and I don't usually have a problem with anyone, but drag me into childish games and you're out on your ass. I do not care what your opinion is on my character - if you don't like what I do with him or how I write him, please remove yourself from my list. Over the course of my 2 years on this site, I have been blacklisted, bullied and ostracized purely because I have been trying to develop and grow my character and trying to make connections. So, I'm talking to your main Doctor and you don't like it. Big whoop. People can write with whoever they want, and that includes me. This is a social writing site, the aim is to socialize and meet new people - deal with it. 6b. Passive aggressive and indirect posts will not be tolerated. I have had it with people who have a problem, but instead of acting like an adult and coming to talk to me about it, they post bitchy statuses on stream and badmouth me to other people, who then in turn badmouth me to more people. I have Line and Discord and I pretty much use them regularly; if you have my contacts, then just drop me a message and tell me what the problem is, I'm pretty sure we can sort it out and I won't be mad. This isn't high school, we can act like adults here. 6c. Please learn the difference between IC and OOC talk and drama. They're two completely different things. Generally, if I'm speaking IC, I will use quotation marks (") and two forward slashes (//) for when I'm talking OOC. This has become a bit of a confusing topic so I just want to make that clear. Also, what I say IC does not reflect how I feel OOC; that is crucial beyond belief. Just because my character hates you doesn't mean I actually hate you. Please please pleeeease understand that, because I've met a lot of people who have blocked me and blacklisted me for something I said in character. 7. I am not always online here; you may see my online light flashing, but I could be away doing RL stuff or preoccupied with schoolwork. Please don't harass me or spam me with demands that I talk to you, because chances are I'll probably ignore you or delete you (and I don't like ignoring or getting rid of people so please don't make me have to do that). I am a full-time university student outside of RP and I have to attend classes, lectures and attend to work so I can meet deadlines. I will always try my best to get to people when I can. If for some reason you can't handle that, please delete me. 8. Just have fun! You aren't obligated to sign these rules, but through RPing with me here, you are bound to them. Break or disregard them and you will be deleted and blocked; this is your first and final warning. 1 Comments

09/12/2017 03:08 PM  The Graves Alex woke up with a start. The nightmares had been getting worse and worse since the day he'd dragged his father from wherever he had been stuck when that monster had control of him. Every night, he could still feel the warmth of the blood trickling down his face and that metallic taste in his mouth ... and the barrel of the gun as it came nearer to his face, his father's finger perched neatly on the trigger. He would cry and scream and beg for him not to pull it, and that face would always leer out of the darkness, laughing at him and mocking him. This would play over and over again in what felt like an endless loop until his brain decided to spare him from the torture, and he'd wake up drenched in sweat and shaking. He'd try not to make a sound in case the Doctor heard him from the next room and came rushing in, wanting to know what was wrong ... and he couldn't let him relive that again. So he just lay there until he could convince himself to go back to sleep. But today was different; something needed to be done ... to ease the nightmares, to make them both feel in some way at peace with what had happened. Getting up, Alex pulled on some clothes and went to the console room. Doing his usual careful routine of flying the TARDIS, he inputted the names of the people whose lives his father had claimed into the main computer and did a search for burial places. First, it would have to be the child his father had killed at the cinema. It felt like starting off in the hardest place, but at least the hard part would be out of the way... 6 Comments

09/01/2017 04:48 PM  The Return Alex sat at the TARDIS console, feeling the low hum of the engine reverberate through his fingers. His father was well and truly scared; as much as he denied it, that was a cold, hard fact. When he'd let that rush of memories into his brain, he'd felt something buckle and almost give way, like a bolt in the middle of a cutter. He'd found the weakness ... he'd found the key to unlocking the door that would bring his father back. But the only problem is was that he knew that he knew it was there, and he was going to avoid him at all costs. Whatever this thing was, it didn't want to leave, and he was going to have to force it to. "No more," Alex thought. "This needs to stop." This was why he'd come prepared for when the Doctor eventually came to him. In his pocket was a needle filled with a strong tranquilizer; all he needed to do was pounce on him when his back was turned, inject the fluid, restrain him, then do his work. 26 Comments

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