Big T Anderson of Youtube was kind enough to read out one of my fanfics. Check out his profile for more fanfiction readings and give him a like and comment
Big T Anderson of Youtube was kind enough to read out one of my fanfics. Check out his profile for more fanfiction readings and give him a like and comment
Nice tits Hartnell.
Well, something cheif among Sidney Newman’s final requests for the show has come to pass [another desire was retro generation, we’ll cover that eventually in my lifetime too I’m sure…probably once Tennant runs out of lucky dimes over in Duckberg], congratulation to Jodi Whittiker as she takes a man’s key and inserts it into her hole to spread her legs across the milky way.
…What do you mean that came out wrong?
Anyhoo, don’t think of this edit as a part of my series ten revisited series, I already have an altogether different plan for the finale of that particular series…no, no this is strictly some quick fun I opted to have with the series ten finale.
Since it aired, I have always felt the ideal opportunity was to have had Capaldi make a surprise exit in ”The Doctor Falls”..why should he rehash the resistance to change when Eleven assured us that we must always keep moving and never forget who we were? Capaldi spending sixty minutes moaning about it fresh off us eating our Christmas dinner may not be what happens, but it’ll form part of it, and I think that’s such a shame…better to go out in a blaze of grace
A lot of the edits you’ll see here will show up in my revisited version, but not all of them, and the first and latter halves is pretty much note for note unaltered aside from a couple of nips and tucks to join the episodes up, and of course, a very special ending.
I need to go back to the kitchen now…and Jodi needs to go back to the TARDIS…and towards the future.
We’re a week late with this, but believe me, it was a doozy trying to make it work with what was left of the episode after using some of it for other entries in this series. The first version I had made use of several deleted scenes, but I realized some of the scenes cut off abruptly [in fact, the one I kept still does] and didn’t make for a very satisfactory finale, so a lot of what I didn’t like about Knock Knock had to be kept in to pad everything out, that includes, sadly, the fact everyone comes back to life at the end.
Other than the deleted scene I wound up keeping and the new pre titles sequence, there isn’t anything all too radical about this one I’m afraid, and I still haven’t been quite able to make it forty five minutes, so you’ll have to settle for it being ten minutes shorter
Next Friday we’ll be meeting a chap called Friday and the Empress of Mars
Had so many ideas for this I couldn’t just wait for the DVDs
-Titles now come at the close of The Doctor’s speech about the TARDIS acronym meaning “life”
-Episode proceeds as normal until Bill enters The TARDIS. We skip her lines abou t needing the toilet and The Doctor directing her to one, cut from The Doctor’s “gateway to everything” speech to their arrival at the Vault
-Cut The Doctor and Bill in Australia, take them to the alien planet immediatly
-End the episode on Bill’s remark that her tears may not be hers. Cut The Doctor trying to mindwipe her.
-Coming Soon trailer should be a mix of the episode’s version and the original Time For Heroes trailer
“LEAVE THE DEAD TO DUST”
A SHORT SCREEN PLAY BASED OFF OF “HELL BENT”
Several Gallifreyan younglings are playing a game of tag with one another when a stern, commanding middle-aged woman urges them to seek shelter within-she has spotted someone approaching in the distance.
This person- THE DOCTOR- his coat slung over his shoulder, his head flooded with sweat under the searing sun of his homeworld. He has walked many miles and the fatigue is visible on his weary head.
Still, he walks with purpose, heading towards the hut. It is a place very familiar to him-very personal-he begins to reminisce…
Flashback to “LISTEN”, where CLARA OSWALD’s familiar voice sooths the frightened and distressed YOUNG DOCTOR. She assures him all is well.
CUT BACK TO:
A CLOSE UP OF THE DOCTOR’S FACE, there is clear and visible anger here…a man driven to his limits. Clara’s voice can still be heard to echo all around our ears.
The Doctor enters the hut and is greeted by the woman, the younglings cowering behind her. CLOSE UPs of their frightened faces. The woman looks concerned…for a moment.
The Doctor does not say a word. He lets his eyes do the talking.
The Woman’s facial expressions go through a series of expressions-curiosity turns to excitement-she recognizes him!
Then, as quickly as that expression appears-it’s gone, as a looming dread washes over her.
Her hesitation to speak ends abruptly.
They’ll kill you
CUT BACK TO:
Within the domed capital of the planet GALLIFREY, we see panic on the streets as the familiar tolling of CLOISTER BELLS ring from every corner of the city.
We PAN UPWARDS from the streets of the city to a majestic ,gleaming TOWERING STRUCTURES. Buildings belonging to the most elite and privileged of Gallifreyan society-THE HIGH COUNCIL OF TIME LORDS.
We steadily ZOOM IN on the central tower. Peering out of the structure is a robed figure- a stressed and perturbed expression on his features, his head resting against the metallic hand he has leaned on the glass of the window giving him a view of the city
It is a frantic and bustling scene as Time Lords of supreme stature receive a visit from the captain of the CHANCELLERY GUARDS. He leans down on one knee and bows before the assembled Time Lords
My Lord President
The President turns from the window to address the captain
The entire cloister is ringing Captain Gastron…how many of the Wraiths are active?
All of them sir.
Then we are facing great danger
Another of the assembled Time Lords, THE GENERAL, last seen in “DAY OF THE DOCTOR”, intercedes
What of The Doctor?
Returned to his roots sir, the orphanage just east of the capital.
Despatch a squadron to retrieve him immediately.
The General takes The President aside
Lord President, I have been in contact with Karn. Ohlia of the Sisterhood requests an audience
LORD PRESIDENT (angry)
They are exiles, cut off from our society, they should have no influence on the affairs of this planet!
Now is not the time to remind us of how divided we are. The hybrid is a danger that threatens all corners of the Universe.
The President’s ire is quick to fade , his face one of solemn resignation to the matter at hand.
The Doctor is enjoying a piping hot bowl of soup. The Woman keeps the children at arm’s length, watching The Doctor silently. The Doctor does not say a word, he takes a few spoonfuls.
One child chooses to be brave and breaks off from the sheltered group to ask The Doctor a question
You’re sad. Most sad. I can see it in your eyes. Why is this so?
The Doctor stares coldly at the child, there is no compassion even in moments where there should be.
The Woman pulls the child back, The Doctor resumes his meal.
A distant rumble can be heard in the distance. Steadily, the noise gets louder, the table and soup bowl begins to shake.
Some of the children begin to talk amongst themselves. Some are frightened.
She exits through the main door, the bright and searing sunlight seeps into the room, illuminating The Doctor. The children remain transfixed by him…and somehow all their fears evaporate
The Woman steps back into the barn, she steadily approaches The Doctor, anxious, but resolute.
They’ve come for you
The Doctor stares back at the children. He slowly rises to his feet and walks up to the Woman.
Tell them everything will be alright
The Woman finally permits herself a grin. The children smile too. Though his soul is lost, The Doctor is not without heart.
The Doctor pats the Woman tenderly on the shoulder and opens the door
The Doctor peers out of the door to find a small platoon of Gallifreyan storm troopers awaiting him. Towering high above them is a Gallifreyan assault ship, it’s weapons firmly and locked on to the soil on which The Doctor stands.
The leader of the platoon, BESTRAL, approaches The Doctor and extends his hand in a gesture of friendship
Doctor, I am Captain Bestral, on behalf of the high council, I welcome you back…
The Doctor has no time for pleasantries, especially from this type of person. He quickly takes a few steps backwards back into the barn and slams the door firmly shut, leaving the guards flabbergasted.
Put me through to the High Council
Bestral is granted an audience with the assembled Time Lords. The President a tad overeager for progress to be made. His iron gauntlet shimmers with sheer power as if to more clearly convey his frustration as he tries to maintain a sense of composure.
Why do you delay?
He is being… difficult…Lord President, as you had foreseen
The President turns to The General, his features contorted as he juggles disbelief and paranoia.
What does he want?
What any victim of the confession trials want and seldom never receive my Lord…a reckoning.
The child that had noted The Doctor’s sadness from earlier spots the Time Lord searching through a casket. He removes several items, including several fob watches and an Edwardian era Jacket. At one point, he finds a packet of Jelly Babies. He takes a few out and offers them to the boy.
Care for one?
No one’s supposed to touch anything in there
Because a grownup said so?
We have to obey orders, they say we’ll become soldiers one day
How long has it been since this planet last saw war?
They say war is as eternal as time.
And just like time…it inevitably passes.
The Doctor finds what he is looking for, a musical instrument, a wooden, six string guitar, he plays a solemn version of Clara’s theme on it. The children all gather around him as he plays, transfixed by the occasion. Even The Woman, trying to maintain a semblance of structure and attempting to pry the children’s attention away from The Doctor, cannot help but be moved.
There was such sadness in your eyes…now there is pain in this song. This one, does it have a name?
The Doctor spots something in the crate, the small soldier figurine from “Listen”, he stares at it, a sense of longing in his ancient face
I think it’s called…Clara
A voice from behind the door swiftly interrupts them
Doctor, this is your last warning. Accompany us to the capital, or we will be forced to remove you from this dwelling by force
What are you going to do?
The Doctor begins playing a different track on the guitar, “Excuse Me While I Kiss The Sky”
Don’t worry, it’s empty words. I trust them to follow their conscious. They know what I did in the last war.
What did you do?
I did some counting
We find the President is again in great distress, his frustration knows no limits as the guards delay outside the hut
Who do they think he is to warrant more delay?
The man who won the time war sir
Ohlia and the Sisterhood of Karn enter the chamber, flanked by guards
I see The Doctor’s homecoming has not come without it’s inevitable problems
He blame us for the horrors he faced in the confession dial
No, not at all..he just blames YOU
The Doctor is perched on a straw bed, hearing the music he’d been playing earlier played back to him by the child, who he is now allowing to play with the guitar. He hears another loud hum overhead. He steadily rises to his feet, he seems to know this is the kind of house call he had been desiring. His reckoning is here
The President of the Time Lords, flanked by Bestron and his guards, stand outside the hut
The Doctor takes the Edwardian jacket from the pile left on the floor and puts it on. He make his way to the door. The woman and children are there to greet him. The woman is conflicted, not wanting to defy the President, but does not desire The Doctor to give himself up when he has brought much joy to her children.
He’s waiting for you…I don’t think we should delay any further. If you knew the stories about what he can do…I don’t wish for that on the boys, you understand of course.
Yes. I know. This is where we part, thank you for all you’ve done for me
The child, still holding the guitar in his right hand, tugs at The Doctor’s coat with his left.
Will we see you again?
In time…and maybe in space. It’s a big universe. You could do with running straight into it when you’re older
The Doctor pats the child on the head and boldly takes steps to exit the Hut.
The bright searing Gallifreyan sunlight bursts forth and some of its rays illuminate the tense showdown between The Doctor and the President
We did not go to this much trouble for you to create discord upon your return
Get off my planet
The President laughs
You have no gratitude. Were it not for my orders, you would not standing before me now with a new face…a new life
This face is old, this life is scarred. Also by your orders. Another life has been lost. I do not forget these deeds.
Your companion’s death was a result of her own reckless overconfidence
You set a trap for me and she walked straight into it
We required your assistance
You could have summoned me
And give our location away to our enemies? We are more vulnerable now than ever Doctor, we have seen much conflict since returning to this universe. Many have tried to stand in Gallifrey’s ruins.
There were other ways
You would have been difficult to deal with if merely summoned. You may not have been willing to tell us all you know about the Hybrid, a danger to us all
The Hybrid was a story
Every story ever told is history Doctor, history that has either been prevented by us, or history that is bound to happen if we leave it unchecked
You said you were the Hybrid Doctor
Yes I did, and no, I didn’t. Have you been paying attention to history?
Tell us what you know
Get off my planet
Gallifrey is mine
The President raises his iron glove, it begins to glow
Lord President, please, this is not the way
No, let him sic his mitten on me, it’s bringing out the colour in those ice-cold cheeks
I do not jest Doctor, I shall go to any lengths to get the truth. In the confession dial you died time and again…and where we come from, time has no desire to leave the dead alone.
The Doctor stands firm, we continuously CUT BETWEEN CLOSE-UPS of the two staring intently at each other, neither backing down from what they mean or say.
Finally, one Time Lord can stand it no longer.
Lord President, do not-
The President unleashes a sudden burst of energy from his glove, the General throws himself into the line of fire and becomes a smouldering wisp of smoke and ash.
The Doctor catches the President unawares with a firm right hook, the President falls to the floor, The Doctor places one foot soundly on his glove as guards swarm over them
The Doctor removes the President’s glove
Take a look at what he is willing to do here, make a choice.
The Doctor stares at the remnants of the General’s clothes, a pained yet stern and commanding presence on his face as he recalls the smoke pouring from Clara’s corpse in “FACE THE RAVEN”
The soldiers drop their weapons and pick up the fallen President, restraining him, their choice made
I am Rassilon, the redeemer, Rassilon the resurrected, Gallifrey is mine. You will obey me!
Noone is your servant and you are not The Master, and I mean that quite literally. You do not rule over these men or any other. Not any longer.
Rassilon is taken back to his ship, he looks over at the children staring back at him. The young boy plays ‘Excuse Me While I Kiss The Sky’ on the guitar
Nicely played kid.
My Lord Doctor, shall I order the potion mixers back at the capital to prepare the General for resurrection?
No, no soldier, he’s earned his rest. Even as it comes to claim us all, it’s best for life and time if we merely leave the dead to dust.
THE LOSING SIDE
WRITTEN BY ZARIUS
(Contains spoilers for “The Final Problem”)
It was a casket. That’s all it was, all it needed to be.
A simple wooden casket, inanimate distraction for the three lively souls inhabiting an otherwise cold and barren room.
But everyone stops looking after three.
“It’s funny how little God or whatever authors all our pain in life cares about death these days, recordings of Mary from beyond, recordings of me from beyond, you just wish someone would learn to lie still in one of these” emitted a composed, sophisticated yet slightly unhinged voice from behind Sherlock. The Detective looked around him, John and Mycroft both stood ridged, not moving, staring completely beyond him, like he didn’t matter.
Sherlock turned to his right and found James Moriarty standing beside him, carving out an apple with a jagged knife.
“What are you doing here?” Sherlock asked of his nemesis.
“I’m precious” he said.
“To me? Because I’ve obsessed myself with every move you’ve ever made in this game?”
“Oh you’re not done yet with that are you?” Moriarty asked, “Do learn to move on, we’re past caring about the moves I’ve made, they’ve never been mine to make to begin with”
Sherlock deduced they were in his mind palace, his rapid fire mind indulging in the precious moments spent in between two extreme expressions of his rarely seen emotional range. The former was still taking the time to process, the latter sat there simmering, waiting for release, a release that would only come with full acceptance of the former.
It was in these precious few moments that Moriarty had taken the opportunity to conjure up himself, or rather, that Sherlock had chosen Moriarty to symbolize an ever increasing array of reactions and responses.
“It’s all up there Sherlock” Moriarty continued “Your paranoia, you believe so highly in your aspirations of godhood, you think the most biblical of things can still find a way to manifest on this plane of existence”
“What are you to this situation? And I don’t just mean what’s going on there…I meant, this moment, what do you mean to THIS moment?”
“I’ve been so underlooked in this little triangle haven’t I?” Moriarty said in a sly, taunting manner, taking a bite out of the apple, several worms wriggling through its core, he took one out of the centre and gently slipped it into his mouth.
“You remember don’t you? The night we met, you summed me up in one agonizing word, and it dashed all her fantasies. I was precious alright, but not to you Sherlock, oh no…”
“Stop it” Sherlock said.
“I was precious to her. Three times we went out after you called me gay, three pleasant little dates, but no attempt was made at second base, she listened to you after that. You ruined her big chance, but she still followed your judgement. She thought you knew best. Mothers know best you know that?”
“If you have a point to make, do try to draw it out so I can keep it together” Sherlock replied.
“Oh, would you rather you give that order, or would you prefer the soldiers at your side to do so?” Moriarty asked, pointing to Mycroft and John as they headed towards the room’s freshly unlocked exit.
“What makes you think you can hold it together? You can’t, that’s why I’m here, to finally follow up on my promise all those years ago back at that pool”
Sherlock’s fist tightened as he stared at the casket. His temper began to rise, he had only seconds left, but the recesses of his mind palace stretched time out further. He had to maintain control of the web he was at the centre of.
He would not permit Moriarty to win.
“Remember that promise? That I would burn the heart out of you?”
“I made a promise too…a vow, and while I may have stumbled in attempting to honour it, I intend to further my commitment to it, so you see I have to maintain control, I cannot give into the losing side” Sherlock continued.
“Ah yes, changing the goalposts, trying to bring it all back around to the science of emotion, chemical defects, the works. Easy to see why you would, I mean, a man made of your kind of metal can’t possibly have a heart can he?” Moriarty continued, spitting part of the apple back into the detective’s face.
“Unless you strip away that armour, all that you were, all that you hid behind, and force yourself to hand all of your needs over to someone else, someone who’d seen you for all you were, and still wanted you to have all of her. There isn’t a single scientific deduction or evaluation that can dictate that course of action Sherlock, that can only come from the soul”
“Enough” Sherlock urged the grim spectre of his nemesis as he nudged him even further.
“And even when you went into hiding, even when you went deep underground, even as you buried yourself, she threw herself into the world trying to move forward, only to keep coming up short. She latched on to fiancés who she dropped at a moment’s notice because you were back in her life, you had taken her as an assistant, spent it on a couple of dates you usually reserve for John. Oh he must have been jealous, lord knows you thought about it enough times…”
“I picked her because I respect her, I appreciated what she did, I did it because she counted for something in the end…”
“Who knows where’d it’d have all led if you hadn’t noticed that ring on her finger, but then, you made your move on her anyway. A gentle brush against her cheek, enough to send her into so many thoughts of inadequacy and guilt, knowing she’d opted for someone so much less than you…”
“I didn’t realize…how could I? She gave no signals, there was no way of knowing if she felt…”
“..The same?” Moriarty continued.
Sherlock could sense John was trying to talk him into coming with him and Mycroft. He continued to hang around the coffin, carefully caressing it with one of his hands. His actions prior to this situation steadily flashing before him. His mannerisms, his expressions, his words, and, more importantly, his desire.
“She did everything for you” Moriarty continued, “Even gave up a whole life for herself, no matter how diminished and unfulfilled that life may have been, it was still hope that she held for the future, and just by being there, being who you are, you drove her away from that. You made her so vulnerable Sherlock, just like you make everyone. EVERYONE.”
“No…” Sherlock uttered as John called out his name.
The precious moments were almost up. He was on the verge of an emotional breakdown, all he needed was a most unkind command, a permission to act out his frustration.
“She is your heart, and you let her control your head. Look upon this box Sherlock, look upon your failure, your other vow , to honour your friendship, look at this box, and set yourself upon it. Your heart is exposed, it burns, my work is, at last, done. You said to Molly Hooper that you needed her words for a case, she gave all you’ve ever meant to her for the good of that case, now apply it to the world you’re committed to above all others.”
“No” Sherlock said, his calm demeanour fading, his armour steadily stripping away.
It was at this moment that he could hold back no longer.
The order finally came.
“Author her pain” Moriarty commanded.
His fists pounded into the casket with feverish and naked aggression, it fell apart in his raw hands almost like confetti, he tossed the remnants across the room, and emitted a primeval sorrowful scream at the top of his lungs.
He sunk to the floor of the cell, the casket lay in ruins, as did his heart.
Moriarty faded from sight, his work at last done, as the consulting detective came to terms with the most overbearing defect found in the losing side.
Love conquers all.
Even Sherlock Holmes.