60 posts from 2009

New Story

7 days ago
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I've a new story I'm going to post on here in the near future.

WORKING TITLE: Sinners and Saints

RATING: R (for violence, language, cannibalism, and gory stuff.)

MISC. : Will contain but is not limited to the following - MPreg, demonic posession, sadomasochism, very strong language, zombies of a sort, general troublemaking, SEVERE ANGST, and dismemberment. If you can't handle that or don't want to see it, then don't read the story when it's posted. Thank you.

SUMMARY: Alabaster Willem is immortal. His unexpected lover is not. Al had come to terms with Sam's mortality long ago, and in fact was thankful for it. It gave him a reason to keep fighting his darker half. Over the years, Sam has asked time and again to be turned into the same thing as Al. An ageless, immortal non-flesh eating zombie. Time and again he was refused. But when Sam finally makes it a demand and not a question, the immortal Fallen finally gives in. The price? His own tormented soul.

Super Secret Project Teaser!

Oct 19, 2009
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This is a teaser for the super secret project I'm working on.

Enjoy.

----------------------------------------------------

Prompt - Where do you see yourself in five years?

Stepping outside into the bright sun, I shield my eyes and groan. Daylight never had been my prefered light of choice. Not unless I were using it in my work. Like today.

"Quit yer bellyachin," the man beside me says with a grin. I groan again in reply as I fumble around in my pocket for a pair of sunglasses.

I don't get out much. My work takes up most of my time. Staring at the screen in a darkened room, watching as the colors melt together in Photoshop before sending them on to another artist for the next stage in the image's development. But I don't care where it goes. Because another one is sent to me, and I put the colors in, and send it on.

I'm a cog in the great wheel of progress. Just another gear in a well oiled machine cranking out cartoon after cartoon.

I feel a tug on my sleeve. I look up, and it's the same one that spoke to me before. The same man who'd dragged me out of the safety of my appartment. Enticed me with free food and drink at a company picnic if only I'd just come with him. He doesn't have many friends in the office.

Neither do I. I like it that way.

It keeps me happy, actually, in my own morbid way. My friends outside of work, from the older days in highschool thought I was mad when I told them I wanted to intern as a color artist for an animation studio. Any stuido would do. Any of them that would take me that is. It would afford me a certain level of privacy. I could control what details people knew about me, and I could project to my coworkers a version of me that was polite and nice, one everyone could get along with. And in this way, I could learn the things I needed to learn. Perhaps get a more steady job once the internship was finished.

But the important thing was the experience, not the office friendships and personal relationships I could create.

He's tugging my sleeve again. I roll my eyes behind my sunglasses and I give off that false smile that they have only ever seen from me. He's speaking again, and I'm nodding as we're heading over to get some cold drinks.

The day is hot, and it looks like I'm the only one wearing jeans. But that's alright. I don't intend to do any running or three legged races any time soon. We find a table and sit, watching as some of the others who'd brought their families take part in the festivities. I sip my drink. Ah...

An ice cold Mountain Dew. My favorite.

I talk nice with my day's unwanted companion. Making small talk about work and the weather and various favorite horror movies. How we got on that topic, I do not quite remember. I think it may have something to do with work. I remember coloring a set of panels last week with a rather gory death scene. It was boring work now that I think about it.

As the day wears on, and I find myself talking to other people that I didn't even know worked with me, I'm also finding that I may just be the only one feeling lacklustre about my job. Then again, I may not be the only one acting out a nice charade just to get the ordeal over with as quietly as possible.

I've always hated working for other people. I figured that out about myself five years ago when I went back to school. I'd told myself back then that five years later I'd have my own studio, my own series of books and cartoons. None of that has come to pass. I have miscalculated my goals.

No matter. Five years later I have none of that. But what I do have is putting me in the right direction. With the experience I am getting here at Hawthorne Pictures, I'll be able to make it on my own in time.

It's just taking a little longer than I had initially expected.

Dusk is falling now. My day's companion has returned boastng a ribbon for some contest. Hotdog eating, I believe. I'm just finishing off a bowl of macaroni salad and another Mountain Dew. Fireworks are next, I know. And I throw away my trash and come back to him.

I've taken my sunglasses off and put them in my pocket. There's no need for them now that darkness is nearing. I excuse myself, saying that I've got to get up early in the morning for work. He tells me everyone's got to get up early for work. I tell him I've gotten backed up in my work, and will need to get there early to catch up. I don't want to put everyone else behind schedule.

He calls me a stick in the mud. And I laugh, that same forced polite laugh they have ever heard come from me. I bid him good night, and he reminds me that he's the one that gave me a ride.

I remind him of the Cardiff public transportation system, and that I can easily enough catch a cab.

On my way home, I mentally relive the events of the day. I'd had fun, for my part. Though I may have seemed a stick in the mud, I had my own fun in my own way. The ride to my stop is short, and I climb off the bus to begin the walk home.

I find myself suprised by the weather. Unusually dry. The crispness of the air is no suprise, but the lack of rain is. It had been raining every day during the week, and then, suddenly dry as a bone today. Almost as if mother nature had spilled out all her tears before the day of the picnic and then allowed his work-family the day to themselves without interruption.

The walk home doesn't take long. I search my pockets for my keys. Find that I had left them somewhere. I try to recall if I'd put them into my pocket before I left. Stupidly I realize that I hadn't. I check my watch, hoping my flatmates are in. The time isn't that late, at least one should still be around.

I hit the buzzer for my flat, and I wait. No response. I hit the buzzer again and wait. On the fourth try, I finally hear an answer.

"Forgot my keys, let me up."

"What?"

I grumble then try again. "I left my keys, moron! Let me in!"

I hear a laugh. It had to be her... I've two flatmates. One girl, one boy. It was the only way I could afford to move all the way to Wales from Florida. Split the rent with a couple of mates. Well, a mate and his mate. "Come on!"

I hear the buzzer, and quickly grab the door. Once inside, I climb the stairs. The elevator's been out for weeks. I don't think anyone's ever going to get around to fixing it. Three floors up, and I'm at my door. I turn the knob, hoping she left it unlocked for me.

She did, and I let myself in. I hear laughing comming from the back. I frown. It sounds like it's comming from my room. This wasn't uncommon, since I was the one who had my own computer. There was another, in the tv room, but it was broken, and like the elevator I didn't know if it would ever get fixed. I knew how, I just never really had the time to deal with it.

I go to the kitchen to fix myself some tea. I always like a cuppa before bed. When I start to head back towards my room, I hear a shout.

"It looks just like him!"

My frown turns to a scowl as I steel myself for kicking my flatmate and her friends out of my room. I need to get some sleep before work in the morning. When I open the door, I freeze as a head turns to look at me.

"You did this?"

I don't quite understand what the girl is asking. I know she's one of my flatmate's friends. Mentally I try to recall her name, but before I have the chance to finish, she speaks again. "This is really good! You should send this off to BBC or somethink."

"W...W...what?"

I creep in closer to try and see what she's talking about, and I can feel my skin crawl as I realize in horror what they've found.

My flatmate looks at me, and I can tell she's trying not to laugh. "I knew you was a geek, but I didn't know you were a Doctor Who nut." She gives me a look that I can't quite place.

I try my best to get them to leave, but they want to keep watching my computer. Finally, I give up and leave them to it. What harm are they really doing, anyway. I'd heard them laughing. So it wasn't as if I could really be even more embarrassed.

I go to the tv room and try to watch a bit of telly while they're in my room, mocking my attempts at animation. An hour passes when I realize that I don't have that much completed for them to laugh at and watch. I get up and start back down the hallway.

The girls have migrated to my flatmate's room. Most of them. A few hung back at my computer for heaven only knows why. Now that it's only a few, I think I may be able to get them out of here. I try.

"Are you going to finish it?"

"What?"

"Your cartoon. Are you going to finish it? It's really good."

I shrug. "Yeah, eventually." I scratch the back of my head with a hessitant smile. "So... How, uh..."

"YouTube," she said without warning. "I don't see why you're wasting your time doing grunt work when you can do stuff like this."

"Uh... well... you see...."

I am sufficiently flustered, and stammering at them before I finally just stop talking. When they left my room, I stared at my computer screen at my unfinished project. It wasn't my first animation I'd done on my own. I had a few others, geek themed of course, posted on YouTube. But under a user name I didn't think anyone that knew me would be able to puzzle out.

Unfortunately... I'd left myself logged in. The rest... well the logic trail had been obvious to follow.

As I shut down my computer, and then climb into bed, I stare at the ceiling and sigh. It's been a strange day with strange things. Odd thoughts and nostalgia somewhat.

I look back again to five years ago, to the moment I had decided to set foot on this trail. I'd told them all then I had wanted to move to Cardiff, make cartoons, and someday get famous from it.

Well, at this point in time I have accomplished two of those three things.

If that group of girls enjoyed my cartoons so much, then maybe I had a shot. Maybe she was right, and I should leave Hawthorne Pictures and make it on my own. Lose the job security my internship provides for me currently and take a big risk.

I roll over and decide to remain with Hawthorne for now. The experience is what I need right now. It's a cutthroat business, especially when smaller companies have to compare to giants like Disney and Pixar and Dreamworks. Not to mention all of those companies dotting the islands of Japan.

No, I'll stay where I am and take security over risk for now. After all, I've got five more years to think about where I'm going next. Five years is just a halfway mark. Ten is the real kicker.

QotD: Best-Seller

Oct 19, 2009
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If you were going to write a book, what would you write about?

I have written books. I just haven't published them... yet. They're a hodgepodge of sci-fi/fantasy/modern/horror.... stuff.

Lots of random STUFF.

Like.... Dragons, vampires, shapeshifting demons, angels that kick butt, the inner workings of Hell, an artist/musician who can control shadows and his demonic boyfriend/husband-ish thing who's a dehtroned prince of hell.... that kinda thing.

New Banner Up.

Oct 14, 2009
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The new banner's up. It was created for me by Z. n.n She's fuckin awsome yousguys.

That is all for now. still working on the top secret project, as well as my icons site. dribble is forthcomming.

Two things.

Oct 14, 2009
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1. I need to make another dribbly post here. I'm getting around to it. Sorry for the lack of updates. It's been due to a few things, really. Fanfic writing, my personal mental state, and various other personal things I'm not going to spill out here. It's not the place to do so.

2. I'm going to be changing the banner/header here again. It's just time that i do that. So don't be suprised. I'm also changing links to the side to updated projects and such.

okay, I lied. Three things....

3. Wait.... I forgot what that third thing was. So here, have this instead. It has to do with a top secret project I'm working on with Z (again.)

T

Creativity Flows Again!

Aug 30, 2009
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I've been going through.... well, some stuff lately. And it's hindered my creative process. But here's some new dribbles! Written over the past 3 days! YAY!

enjoy! n.n!!!

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He lay on his back staring up at the ceiling with sightless eyes. He felt his chest rising and falling, and the subtle ache in his hip throbbed just enough to remind him it was still there. "Hey Al?"

"Yeah Sam?" came that voice, sleepy and slightly lilting. Always beside him, and never far from reach.

"You can do magic right?"

"What? Like pull a scarf outta a rabbits arse?"

He laughed, wincing as he let it rock his fragile body. "I don't think it goes quite like that," he said, his wrinkled face pulling his lips into a smile. "And not that kind. Those are tricks. I mean, you're... you're you. You can do stuff. Not-human stuff."

There was a long silence from the man beside him. The only way he knew Al still lay next to him was the musk that permeated the air. The subtle hint of strawberry kiwi shampoo. The distinct, exotic scent of his skin, stiffled only by the clothes he wore. It was enticing and comforting at once. He smelled like an exciting mixture of Medditeranian spices and the strongest, most intoxicating whisky. He licked his lips, his mind just about to drift further before he heard him speak.

"Yes."

A simple word. A small word. But spoken with such trepedation. Such... fear.

"But I won't do it," he added. "Not even fer you."

A feeling he hadn't known in years rose up in his old bones. A mixture of anger and jealousy, never a good combination, fueled his words. "You'd do it for Tyler, if you-"

"Don't go there with me," was Al's harsh reply as Sam felt the matress move slightly. The man beside him becomming tense and full of sudden, unspoken rage.

"But you would have, if you could though," he said. "Back then."

Silence drifted between them once more. A different sort. The old man let the words hang in the air. He had no doubt he'd struck true to the obviously still raw nerves of that particular subject shared so unusually between them.

At last, the silence was broken, and the tenseness eased from the air and from his unlikely partner's body. "Yeah," Al said. "But that was back then, when I was young an stupid an greedy."

The old man snorted as he laughed, glad that the dark cloud he had summoned had passed. "You?" he choked out sarcastically. "Never." They laughed together a few minutes more, and when the moment had passed, he sighed. "Why not me though? I mean, you could do it. I could be like you, if I wanted. I could-"

He stopped when he felt moist lips press against his temple, followed by a hand brushing the hair he knew to be sparse and gray with his many years from his forehead.

"I could. You could be strong, healthy, and young again. You could live forever, just like me, if you wanted," he said softly before his voice dropped an octave. "But first I'd have to kill you. Then do... unspeakable things. And your very soul would be devoured and you wouldn't be you anymore. You'd be something wicked and dark and vile. The cost of such a thing is too steep a price to pay. And I would never force this... evil on another. Not on you, not on anyone. Even if you begged me."

(this one kinda.... got away from me there near the end. n.n' sorries!)

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"I had two children," he said. "A boy and a girl."

"What happened to them?"

"Their mother and I got a divorce. I could have them for the summers. And some holidays. My girl was old enough to bitch and talk back, so she was sent to me with no problem. But my boy..." He started to drift off the end of his sentence, taking a sip from his glass before forcing back his emotions again. "My boy was kept from me. I tried to see him at every opportunity. I sent gifts, cards, letters. I don't know if he even was allowed to see them. I tried calling him, when he came of age. But... He would never answer.

"When I did last see him though, it was not under the best of terms. My best friend, who I'd been looking after for many years, had just died. I was an emotional wreck."

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(this was written as a bit of a lark. n.n)

TIME LORD ETTIQUETTE

1. Companions

Companions are a very serious business to a Time Lord. They are best friends, pets, men, women, human, otherwise, and the occasional equal. They travel with these companions, showing them impossible things, and in general the whole of time and space. They are also someone a Time Lord can, and often do, trust with their [many] lives.

2. Transport

Be it a TARDIS or any other means, a Time Lord's personal transport and anything inside is literally all they have. They go to great lengths to protect it, and will even go so far as to patch it together with bubble gum and paperclips if necessary. String and band-aids are ideal for such repairs.

3. Tools

Tools come in an assortment of shapes, sizes, and types. From sonic to laser. Even the occasional tin dog or oversized rubber mallet attatched to the console. Tools are very important to the sanity as well as the security and survival of a Time Lord. To be entrusted with their most important tools is a sign of respect and trust that is on such a level that it has no other equal.

4. Origin and Pride

While such a status is indeed something to be proud of, a sensible Time Lord will not reveal him/herself as such unless necessary given the situation (See case study "SPACE TITANIC" on page 6,142). However, the occasional indulgence is entirely expected. Revelation of his/her origin in the Post-Time War era will often be and is currently met with disbelief, scrutiny, amazement, or no response at all given that the species encountered may not have ever heard of them. Therefore, one must take great care in who this secret is revealed to. When it is revealed, it is imperitive that a Time Lord do so with pride and dignity, with no shame nor fear, especially when confronting a Dalek.

5. Obligation and Adversaries

This is the most important, dangerous, and hardest part. A Time Lord's duty is to experience the universe, explore it's mysteries, and delve into alien cultures. This is so that they can amass great knowledge and wisdom. And they must share these things with their companions whenever possible, after their initial explorations of course. A Time Lord's obligation is to protect life where they find it, save the innocent, and set things right when they go wrong. In doing so, they will make and meet many adversaries. And will be forced into epic battle. It is a Time Lord's obligation in such a circumstance to do so with as little bloodshed as possible even if the end result is the loss of their own life. (The only exception to this is when dealing with Daleks. In these extreme cases, genocide is highly recommended.) The continued existence and prosperity of Time and the Universe must always come first.

6. Regenerations

A way devised by the greatest Time Lord, Rassilon, to cheat death so to speak. It came about when the Gallifreyans as a race became sterile and unable to sexually reproduce. (See entry "Houses of Cousins" page 4,993 and entry "Looms of Gallifrey" page 4,997) The regeneration cycle consists of 12 regenerations of the entire body, with 13 different and distinct incarnations. If a Time Lord is near death (be it from old age, poison, mortal wound, etc.) their body will generate a restorative energy which will heal all wounds and rewrite their entire biological/physical appearance. Personalities and voices are also known to change.

6.5. Biological Metacrisis

In the event that a Time Lord wishes to remain in their current incarnation when a regeneration is triggered, they can do so provided they are in possession of and proximity to a genetically identical receptical. The process is rather straightforward. A Time Lord allows the regeneration to begin; however once wounds and injuries are healed, the excess energy must be immediately siphoned into the receptical. The regeneration is thus aborted.

WARNING: The receptical is highly voltatile following the event. It must be locked away immediately where no one can touch it, especially humans. The result would be the creation of a cloned Time Lord from the residual regeneration energy with personality characteristics as well as some genetic and physical traits of the one who touched the receptical.

7. Leaving Companions

A Time Lord is immortal, barring accidents. All companions are temporary, even fellow Time Lords. As a rule of thumb, Time Lords to not become too attatched to their companions because of this. However, it happens. Many leave on their own, wanting to return home or finding a new world to settle on. Others will die. This is unavoidable, and happens to the best of them. Some are simply lost. (See case study "ROSE" on page 1,294).

And still, for those who have become far too attatched to their companions, there is a situation reffered to simply as "Aberdine".

To Aberdine a companion is to purposely leave them behind against their will or knowledge. "See case studies "SARAH JANE SMITH" page 97, "SUSAN FORMAN" page 8, and "DONNA NOBLE" paves 1,472 through 2,010.)

Depending on how the task is done, the term "Hatianed" may be substituted. It may be harsh, but this is in fact the kindest and most humane way to leave companions behind when all other options are exhausted.

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"You'll be in here till we can get your old room sorted," he said. "Breakfast is at 8AM, Lunch is at noon. Supper is-"

"At 5:30 sharp. Just like when I was a kid. Got it," Zeke said, dropping his duffle bag inside the doorway of the guest room.

"If you need anything, I'm across the hall after midnight."

He raised a brow at this, and looked at the man who looked so much younger than himself. "Wait, didn't that used to be..."

Al smiled. "Don't break your brains trying to think it out, kiddo. I toss and turn when I sleep, and with how old your brother's got... Don't need me breaking his ribs when I roll over is all."

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"It's still just the two of you. In this giant house."

He nodded, chopping some parsley before adding it to the sauce towards dinner. "There's a maid that comes in three days a week to help me out. But it's pretty much just us two. Three now that you're here. Again."

"Why don't you just get a smaller place?" Zeke asked, picking at his salad. He wasn't going to eat it, but figured since Al had made it for him, he may as well pretend that he was. "Or put him in a home."

Al shook his head as he wiped his hands on his apron. That old, frilly pink one that Zeke was suprised was still in one piece. "Sam refuses to let go of the place. Says it's all he's got left that matters." He shrugged as he wiped down the counter, then turned to lean back against it. "And I wouldn't put him in a home even if all I had was a cardboard box to shove him in. The man deserves to live his last years in dignity, not in some fucking waiting room for death."

------------------------------------

"Your brother and Nessa are comming down from New York this evening. They'll be here by dinner. Try to clean yourself up and behave."

"What? WHY?!"

"Why not? They heard your were in town, and wanted to come see you. They need a few days vacation anyway."

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He chewed his lip as he saw the band on his brother's finger. "Well," he said, shuffling his feet. "Married now?"

Elijah blinked at him in confusion, then gave a weak smile and a nod. "Uh... yeah," he said, distratcting himself by sipping his wine. "Five years this last April."

"Who's the lucky-"

"It's not important," Eli said quickly. "It's purely for public relations. And political reasons."

"I see," Zeke said, shuffling his feet again in awkward silence.

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"Nessa's in line to be the next govenor of New York," Sam said, slightly impressed that at least one of the little bastards of their hodge-podge family was achieving something at least. He grinned as he heard Al put a plate down in front of him before the chair to his right scraped against the floor, signaling that the other man was sitting down.

"It's not official yet, Sam," she said. "I still have to survive the primaries."

Al smirked, unfolding a napkin and laying it across his lap. "With Eli workin on your campaign, there's no way you'll lose, princess. You'll be the first third party govenor they've had in... Well, I can't even begin to remember when."

Sam laughed. "One thing's for sure," he said, knowing their conversation was making Zeke very uncomfortable, for more reasons than one. "I'm sure as hell glad we don't live there anymore."

---------------------------------

"So you and Eli? But he's... and you don't got a..."

She laughed. "Oh no..." she said, swiling her wine around in her glass as if it were brandy. "Not with each other." Her smile was sly, was wicked and cruel. "But he does let me watch."

"You're a sick, twisted woman, you know that?"

She laughed again, then took a sip from her glass. "You're one to talk, Ezekiel. Everyone knows you and poor, naiive Eli were... a bit closer than brothers should be."

He felt the blood drain from his face as it ran ice cold in his veins. He didn't think anyone knew about that. Unless Eli... No. He wouldn't do that. He was smart. Hell of a lot smarter than him.

"Oh hell, don't look at me like that. He didn't tell anyone, if that's what you're worried about." Her laughter was sharp and dark and hot and all things foul despite it's sickeningly sweet melody. "Everyone sort of figured it out in their own time. Sam first, of course."

"...How?..."

"He smelled it. You know what they say about losing one sense. The others get stronger. And Sam's got one hell of a sense of smell. Better than any bloodhound, that's for sure."

He glared at her as she drained her glass, then rose from the table. "Don't keep my husband up too late tonight, Casanova. He and I have a photo-op in the morning before brunch with the Pensylvania govenor and his wife. Make sure not to leave any love bites."

He watched as she twirled on her heel, giggling sadistically as she made her way to the kitchen with her wine glass.

some random rambling dribbly things. part 1

Jul 6, 2009
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these are just some random rambling dribbly things i've been writing down lately. most don't make much sense. and yeah.... i'll TRY to section them all together with the characters involved. (I.E. whoniverse will be one color, heroesverse another, random al bits in green or something, etc.)

enjoy. :)

Doctor Who/Torchwood universe

The Alabaster bits.

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"You save the universe. Ran an intergalactic organization. And are currently on the run from said organization and you're... you're BLOGGING!"

"What?" he asked. "Jack and Martha get to blog whenever THEY save the universe. Why can't I?"

--------------------

"James?"

"Sorry Quincy. Did I wake you?"

"No," he said sleepily, turning on his bunk and burying half his face into his pillow. "I was just drifting is all."

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"Someday, it'll be the end."

"Don't talk like that Doc."

"I've only got 3 regenerations left Jack. And when the last one's come and gone, she'll have nowhere else to go. Our home is gone. She won't be much trouble. She'll lock down to one spot-"

"I have an idea," Jack said as a smile slowly spread across his face.

-------------------

"You have a sister," he said. "Half-sister really."

"Oh?"

Jack nodded. "Her name is Jenny. One day, you'll meet her."

-------------

"Dad, there's something I need your help with."

"Yeah, make it quick," Jack said, slowing his running pace a bit. "I'm in the middle of something."

"Who's calling you at a time like this? Hang up and keep running!" the Doctor shouted back to him.

"I died," the voice on the other end said. "Twice."

"What?" Jack said, stopping dead in his tracks.

The Doctor skid to a stop. "Come on Jack! Goombas! Flaming turtle shells and rolling mushrooms! Deadly to the universe!"

"In a minute Doc!"

"We don't HAVE a minute!" the Doctor shouted back, throwing his arms in the air as he glanced down the corridor ahead of them.

"Okay," Jack said, ignoring the impatient Time Lord. "Is your face still the same?"

"Dad, what the hell-"

"Just answer the question."

"Yeah, but I don't see-"

"Good. Don't worry. It happens. Part of being an alien. Don't tell anyone. You'll be fine."

"But-"

"Gotta go. Running for our lives. Daddy loves you," Jack said, turning off the mobile and dropping it into his pocket.

"What was that about?! Come on!!!!"

Jack laughed, looking over his shoulder to see a giant mushroom with big enormous eyes rolling towards them. He took a few jogging steps before breaking into a full run. The Doctor took the cue and started running again.

When Jack caught up with the wiry man, he laughed. "You owe me a trip to the nearest pleasure planet!"

"What? Why? Who was that?"

"The kid died twice. Didn't regenerate. I win! You so owe me!"

-------------------------

"Jack Harbourne. Writes The World That Wasn't book series."

"Those were pretty good," Gwen said.

"The hero is a nameless man called Traveler. And the villain, also nameless, called the Emperor."

"Sounds a little too close to home," Martha said, looking to Jack.

He knew that look. "Add that to the curiosities stack," he said at last.

------------

"Why aren't we pursuing this? He knows about things no one is supposed to-"

"Orders from higher up," Jack said.

"You ARE higher up. Or was it-"

"Martha. We leave the Harbournes alone. They're on the shortlist, understood."

"But-"

"Do not aproach. Don't even observe."

-----------------------

"There was a story when I was young. One I was told over and over again. The story of a man who was fire and ice, and who burned like the sun at the center of Time. A noble lord who longed for nothing more than adventure and the vastness of space." He smiled down at the cup between his hands. "Gramps told me such stories. Stories, he said, I could never tell mum."

--------------------------

"John? Is that you boy?"

He nodded. "All grown up," he said, glancing back at the door where he knew a younger self had left just hours before. "And oh what a tale I have to tell you."

"You found him. That Doctor and his blue box?"

Again he nodded and pulled over a chair. "I did. But that's not the story I want to tell. I've been out there, gramps. I've seen strange galaxies and alien worlds and so many wonderful, terrifying things..."

----------------------

"Oh this... This isn't natural," he said. "This is, well... It's supposed to be impossible."

"What Doc?"

"There's... Now, I'm ecstatic that I've found this, but at the same time, I'm severely concerned."

"Well?"

He took off his glasses for dramatic effect. Whether he knew this or not made little difference, because it worked. "This sample contains Time Lord DNA."

"What?!"

"More specifically, my Time Lord DNA." He nodded, back to all business. "I'm going to need more time to anylize the samples, but this is definately not supposed to happen."

"You got me pregnant?!?!" Jack shouted, suddenly angry, but could do little more than sit there with his slightly bigger than normal stomach. "I thought you said-"

"Well, it's not exactly a science, you know. Plus, we did have a lot to drink."

"You had ONE banana daqueri! ONE!!!"

"And you had 17 hypervodkas and a shot of tequila. I'm suprised you're not pissing straight alcohol."

-------------------------------------

"This is how it ends," he said. "It's always been how it ends. No matter what we do..."

Quin grabbed his hand. "You did your best."

"I'm sorry."

The American smiled. "I wouldn't spend the end of the universe any other way," he said. "Now, fancy a cup of coffee before we march to our deaths?"

"Yes please. Two sugars with a bit of that hazelnut creamer."

"All we've got is black."

--------------------------

"I know you..." she said. He nodded.

"It's me mum. It's your Johnny."

"My head," she whimpered. "It burns."

"It's okay mum. I'm here. Everything's going to be okay. I'm going to help you."

"John..."

He looked up at Wilf with a sad smile. "Next time you see me..."

The old man nodded. "You look after her, you hear. You take good care of my Donna."

"I will," he said, wrapping her in his greatcoat before lifting her up some.

-------------------------------

There was a flash. Brilliant and blinding in the central work area of the Hub. When it subsided, a man stood with weapon raised, aimed straight at his head.

"Help me!" he shouted as the woman in his arms, wrapped in his coat, screamed savagely.

"Who-"

"Commander Harkness!" he snapped. "Help me get this woman to a cryo unit!"

---------------------

"Roland, what the hell!" Jack shouted.

"I'm sorry," JJ said, emerging from the morgue. "I didn't know what else to do. There wasn't any time."

"You did this?"

"No," he said.

"Donna Noble died, kid. She died 40 years ago. And now you're telling me-"

"40 years?" he said, staring at him in confusion. "Wait... we time jumped? Shit. I'll have to get this thing looked at again. Trust John to fuck up anything he touches..."

"What happened?" Jack demanded.

"She remembered. She remembered everything. I had to get her frozen before we lost her for good."

-----------------------------------------------------------

"Your skin is so cold..."

"I'm sorry," he said.

"Don't be."

---------------------

"This is an altered world," he said. "One touched by the hands of gods, not men."

------------------

"You and your companions," he said thoughtfully. "You're an odd lot. An angel, a demon, a mortal and... whatever you are."

The older man smiled and sipped his tea. "Is it so hard to believe? You're a walking corpse, married to an angel who, by the way did what no man should ever be able to do... twice. And you cavort with mortals all the time."

He nodded his defeat. "True. But your lot, you're different. I can't put my finger on it."

The other man continued to sip his tea. "We are bound by different rules than you and your's."

"How so?"

He grinned. "For one, we are more closely tied to this world than you are. We are more than what we seem, like you. However we can and do often die. God holds no power over us, because we serve no masters other than ourselves. Even Lucifer himself holds no sway in our dominion."

"Pagans," Al said at last with a nod of understanding. "And what dominion is that, may I ask?"

He set down his cup and wiped his mouth with one of the rather fancy looking cloth napkins on the table. "Purgatory, my old friend. Neither good nor evil. Only a state of perpetual balanced existence."

----------------------------------

"Dragons? Are you serious?"

"Is it really so hard to believe, Alabaster?"

"Now that I think about it.... YES!"

"And like being a demon prince from hell is much better?"

"Hey, at least I don't breathe fire," he replied.

"No. You just fuck anything that crosses your path."

"Oi! Not the girls!"

"Okay. Unless they're a girl."

------------------------------------

"Interresting..." the stranger said without lowering his sword. "I had not counted on another of my kind here."

"If I pull the trigger," Al said. "Will you get back up?"

"Yes."

"Which crown do you serve, swordsman?"

"I serve no crown," he spat out bitterly.

"Then I've no quarrel with you, sir." Al slowly lowered his weapon, but the stranger did not reciprocate.

"And you?" he said, pressing the blade's tip into his flesh. "Which crown do you kneal to?"

"I forfeit my crown, sir."

Navy eyes softened, and the sword was quickly sheathed. "My apologies, Lord-"

"No formalities," Al said, raising a hand. "Just call me Alabaster."

"Many like us I've cut down in my journeys. You are the first to encounter me and survive."

"There are others?"

He nodded. "Yes. But they are not of the peaceful mind. Most seek to destroy. Others... merely pawns of Lucifer's generals."

QotD: Five Senses

Jul 6, 2009
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If you had to give up one of your five senses, which one would it be?

smell. because let's face it, half the food we all find disgusting is based on 90% smell and 9% taste and 1% name.

plus, i wouldn't have to deal with the constant bombardment every time i go through a mall department store and have an asthema attack in the perfume section.... and i DON'T EVEN HAVE ASTHEMA!!!

QotD: Flattery Will Get You Everywhere

Jul 6, 2009
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What's the best compliment you've received lately?

"Wow. You're awake and nobody had to make a pot of coffee to bribe you with." - My mom.

QotD: K.I.T.

Jul 6, 2009
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Phone calls, emails, text messages, facebook, Morse code or something else... How do you like to stay in touch with your friends?

email.

because my cell is almost always either out of minutes or out of power.

because my home phone is always being used by my little sister with very little rest.

because i DETEST facebook. and myspace. though myspace is good for downloading music if you know how to look.

because i fail at morse code.

because regular mail is so... retro.

because i can access my email from any computer hooked up to the internet, and also on almost anyone's ipod touch or iphone...

because i really love fucking those little devices up for people. it makes them crazy.