[licenseartistic] December 2007 - Faceless ((application sample))
Title: "Faceless"
Prompt: Picture prompt: Time Masks (April 2007)
Character: The (Tenth) Doctor
Warnings: None
Pairings: None
Fandom: Doctor Who
Word count: 590
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: The Doctor and all other mentioned characters are property of the British Broadcasting Company, and are used without permission.
What?! Oh, for the love of... Will you put that silly picture away?
I see where your head was at, showing me those things. "That Doctor, he's a Time Lord," you said to yourself, "these lot have got great whopping clocks on their costumes, that's sure to be right up his alley!" That's about how it went, right?
The trouble is that I have, a, um... a history with things or beings with featureless faces like that. Don't mistake that for being afraid, got that? I never was. Not afraid, not me. Concerned, perhaps, particularly for the safety of little details like my companion, or the entire population of an innocent planet... maybe even the whole of creation once or twice.
Never afraid, though. I'm the Doctor, after all.
You want a list, though, yes? That's the trouble with you internets types, nothing's ever good enough for you to just take at face value. Unless, of course it's some ridiculous rumour about who's going to be playing in the next big comic book movie or who's shagging who on Hollyoaks. Phew, then you're parroting back anything you hear to anyone who'll listen, won't you?
Very well.
There's the Cybermen, who only sort of look like those two purple people eaters, but it's close enough to rate a mention. As you can probably guess from the name, they're cybernetic beings: part organic, part mechanical, and as your science fiction stories so often correctly surmise, they're pretty darn sure that's the best kind of life there is in the universe. So, whenever the Cybermen crop up, it's usually because they're looking to take over some planet and make every soul upon it into an identical Cyberman.
Tough old birds, but good and right's prevailed every time, don't you worry your pretty little heads.
A lot closer in appearance are the Autons. You ever look at a department store mannequin and wonder what'd it be like if they could move? You know, move... swarm... extend weapons from their arms and terrorise an entire city? Am I the only one who wonders that? In any case, that was their usual M.O., and really, they're cut from the same kind of cloth as most other baddies. Take over the world, destroy all the humans, et cetera, et cetera.
Taken care of them, too, when I've come across 'em.
'Course, the buggers those two really remind me of, I've only met once. And frankly, they were creepy enough that I don't care to ever cross paths with them again, I tell you.
Fifty-first century, and the TARDIS lands on this absolute wreck of a space ship. There, ah, these portals into the past, and a very specific individual from Earth history is getting terrorised by what looked like French fops in those brocade coats and giant powdered wigs and high heels, topped off with those damn masks. It got worse when I discovered those were clockwork androids, not people, and that there were no human crew on the ship.
It got a lot worse once we sussed out that those androids were actually using bits of the crew to repair the ship-- eyes, hearts, all that-- and they were trying to find some poor woman's brain as their final pieces.
Eugh.
So yeah, I may do plenty of traveling, but I doubt you'll find me in Venice around Carnival season, no matter what year.
Can my next picture be of something pleasant? Ponies? Butterflies? Oooh, bananas. How about bananas?
Prompt: Picture prompt: Time Masks (April 2007)
Character: The (Tenth) Doctor
Warnings: None
Pairings: None
Fandom: Doctor Who
Word count: 590
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: The Doctor and all other mentioned characters are property of the British Broadcasting Company, and are used without permission.
What?! Oh, for the love of... Will you put that silly picture away?
I see where your head was at, showing me those things. "That Doctor, he's a Time Lord," you said to yourself, "these lot have got great whopping clocks on their costumes, that's sure to be right up his alley!" That's about how it went, right?
The trouble is that I have, a, um... a history with things or beings with featureless faces like that. Don't mistake that for being afraid, got that? I never was. Not afraid, not me. Concerned, perhaps, particularly for the safety of little details like my companion, or the entire population of an innocent planet... maybe even the whole of creation once or twice.
Never afraid, though. I'm the Doctor, after all.
You want a list, though, yes? That's the trouble with you internets types, nothing's ever good enough for you to just take at face value. Unless, of course it's some ridiculous rumour about who's going to be playing in the next big comic book movie or who's shagging who on Hollyoaks. Phew, then you're parroting back anything you hear to anyone who'll listen, won't you?
Very well.
There's the Cybermen, who only sort of look like those two purple people eaters, but it's close enough to rate a mention. As you can probably guess from the name, they're cybernetic beings: part organic, part mechanical, and as your science fiction stories so often correctly surmise, they're pretty darn sure that's the best kind of life there is in the universe. So, whenever the Cybermen crop up, it's usually because they're looking to take over some planet and make every soul upon it into an identical Cyberman.
Tough old birds, but good and right's prevailed every time, don't you worry your pretty little heads.
A lot closer in appearance are the Autons. You ever look at a department store mannequin and wonder what'd it be like if they could move? You know, move... swarm... extend weapons from their arms and terrorise an entire city? Am I the only one who wonders that? In any case, that was their usual M.O., and really, they're cut from the same kind of cloth as most other baddies. Take over the world, destroy all the humans, et cetera, et cetera.
Taken care of them, too, when I've come across 'em.
'Course, the buggers those two really remind me of, I've only met once. And frankly, they were creepy enough that I don't care to ever cross paths with them again, I tell you.
Fifty-first century, and the TARDIS lands on this absolute wreck of a space ship. There, ah, these portals into the past, and a very specific individual from Earth history is getting terrorised by what looked like French fops in those brocade coats and giant powdered wigs and high heels, topped off with those damn masks. It got worse when I discovered those were clockwork androids, not people, and that there were no human crew on the ship.
It got a lot worse once we sussed out that those androids were actually using bits of the crew to repair the ship-- eyes, hearts, all that-- and they were trying to find some poor woman's brain as their final pieces.
Eugh.
So yeah, I may do plenty of traveling, but I doubt you'll find me in Venice around Carnival season, no matter what year.
Can my next picture be of something pleasant? Ponies? Butterflies? Oooh, bananas. How about bananas?