Words: 681
Prompt: None. This is me wanting to write the Doctor and building my own personal AU timeline.
Yes, this is Doctor fic—it's related to the Editor in my head, srsly. My AU is a strange one >_> I'm going to end up with a pretty funky character crossover going on here, eventually... And crossposted to my new mun journal,
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mind_the_tardis.So, just finished watched the "Human Nature" eps for the first time (so many good bit actors in those episodes! And poor John Smith. He was a braver man than the Doctor, I think) and I wanted to play with the watch idea. This is a bit about Ten, but a Ten who never found Rose or Donna or Martha. He's still very Ten-goofy, but he also has more of Nine left in him than canon!Ten does by the time he runs into the Family of Blood. More of that 'been on my own so long' roughness.
( The Family followed, followed him across all of time and space. He evaded them, again and again, but, even for a man who loves to run, a man with two hearts and a good pair of rubber soles to take the wear, he was growing tired. )
Characters: 2,252
Prompt:
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oncoming_storms, 56.4, "Five Lives You Saved."A little intro—some director's commentary without the meme to prompt it, if'n you want. This fic-bit takes the Editor character and throws him far into the future of his timeline, at least 200 years or so post-canon, I'd say. This means he's way off in territory that's largely personal-silly!canon—just me mucking about, considering interesting things that could happen to a self-interested skeptic after some pretty disillusioning events and a nasty run-in with a certain Doctor. And, of course, in the Who universe, "interesting" is...putting it rather lightly, as far as "things that could happen."
If I've written it right, the voice is markedly different from his canon voice—even from the slightly-more-reasonable-less-moustache-t
( So, a bit of self-indulgence bordering on OC/AU-age. Take it as you will. )
not_from_mars.Yes, so, again, not yet participated much in the RP Who community at large, but what the hell. Comments screened, anonymous on, etcetera and so-forth!
So, I don't know anyone who doesn't feel like they aren't getting enough feedback. So... let's give some. What do you like about my pup? What do you think could be improved? What things about them do you not understand that you'd like elaborated on?
paradisa!verse.Prompt: There's a plot just starting up in Paradisa that has characters' dreams becoming real/physical and visitable by other characters. I wrote the Editor's up, and it kinda went into ficlet territory. So here it is. This is the 'verse where he lived through the Jagrafess explosion and got killed by Daleks doing clean-up on the Satellite. The backstory hints, here, though, are all consistent with the canon I have in my head for him in any 'verse.
Characters: 376
( It begins in the White House, Washington, DC. )
savagestime's request! So, this was me going, I haven't written narrative for a character in ages, why am I suddenly wanting to write narrative for the Editor, let alone RP him? How do I go about filling in the holes in the cardboard character that the actual canon established, and make a real character--the character that I apparently want to play/write, that feels like it's there under the silly melodrama bit--out of this fellow, while at the same time incorporating the canon, not contradicting it? ( The first place to start is his backstory, of course--and I already had some ideas cooked up for that, enough to let me start RPing him in some comms. )
- Mood:
thoughtful
Alright, so, being new and having only written two pieces (neither of which I'm exactly shot in the arm with yet :\ ), this meme isn't really relevant to me. Still! If you want info on either of 'em, go for it. Or you can ask me questions about this here pup and the thought process behind him in general, suggest things that might be fun for fic later, ANYTHING. Yep. I like to talk~
- Mood:
silly
Anyway, if there's been any odd activity on here, that's what's up. That'll teach me to RP in my off-moments at work, I guess. But, geez, who'd screw around in someone else's RP LJ?
So. Paranoid now! @_@ My pup! My other pups! I don't want people misrepresentin' me, yo. Creeped out, and changing passwords.
- Mood:
anxious
not_from_mars.It Takes A Tough Man To Make A Tender Jagrafess.
Generated by the Advertising Slogan Generator. Get more Jagrafess slogans.
- Mood:
confused
paradisa!verse -- this is what happened right before the Editor ended up in Paradisa. Expect an alternate version for non-Paradisa-AU hijinks soon.Prompt:
oncoming_storms, Enemy at the GateCharacters: 683
( The Editor wipes a smear of the Jagrafess' glutinous pink flesh from the display screen with his sleeve. Any other day, he'd find a cloth and scrub the smudge fastidiously away, tidy as a cat—but today isn't any other day. Today is the day the Doctor came. Today is the last day. The day it is far too late to care about little things like appearances and clean suits. )
Words: 400+
Prompt:
justprompts, cigarette photoMax made such a wonderful distraction. One look up, and the recalcitrant party—the field agent who had learned too much, the broadcaster who had developed too much initiative, whichever run-of-the-mill little rebel it happened to be that day—froze. Froze, gaping, at good old ugly, growling, toothy Max, while the Editor quietly shut down his or her brain. The touch of a button, the subvocalization of a short code word, and the conscious mind guttered, extinguished, only the chip left in control. It was so quick. So clean.
So cold.
The Editor paced around the newest termination. A young man, this time—Walrence Penderson, the computer system named him. Managed to fight company mind control just enough to put two and two together and let his testosterone and righteous rabble-rousing get him invited up to Floor 500.
The gun came away easily from Penderson’s unresisting hand, and the Editor tossed it into a pile in the far corner of the control room. Let it rot there, metal and plastic snapping as the ice of the place got into its seams and expanded, cracking it into uselessness. The snow would cover it over, soon, freeze it into a solid block with all of the other weapons the Editor had collected over the years.
Hm. Nice coat. Very retro. Long, belted, tan. Dramatic sweep to it. It matched the rest of Walrence’s carefully-cultivated neo-noir image. The five-o’-clock shadow, the beyond-antique hat—what were they called, fedoras? And for the final touch…
The Editor smiled. Oh, fads, these days. He knew them all, followed them all—had, in fact, helped establish many of them, from here at the top of Satellite Five. Anything to keep humanity’s mind off real issues, real progress.
But this one. Of all the things to make a comeback.
He plucked the cigarette from Walrence’s slack lips, admiring the glow of its slow burning, the curl of smoke rising into the chill air.
“Don’t mind if I do, Walrence, old chap, don’t mind if I do.” He took a long draw, felt the heat spread out through his lungs like blood in water. Savored it. Exhaled, and watched the gray tendrils rise to meet Max.
“Come on, let’s find you a place at the table.” Taking Walrence by one shoulder, he steered the brain-dead man over to the control console. “And don’t mind the smoke, Max.” The Editor grinned, took another deep draw on the cigarette, and pushed Walrence, skin already bluing with the cold, down into a chair. “I think I just put out the fire.”
(Also! I appear to have picked up some Masters that I don't *think* I've threaded with. Hello! I'm assuming folks have seen the pup over at
sixwordstories?)Stolen from
dameluckypants.( What are five ideas/concepts/etc you keep in mind while writing your character that you believe are essential to accurately depicting them? )
- Mood: thoughtful
Why no facial hair, Tektek? C'mon!
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