The Doctor stares out the window, watching the universe end, taking occasional notes. He's trying to find some inspiration. For poetry, or a song, or art. Something new.

He isn't getting far. But he's sure a spark of creativity is waiting for him to find.

Come say hi and compare notes.

The old pirate has his walking stick out today. His joints are acting up something awful, and it's not easy to get around. Much as he hates to accept it, he's getting old. He never thought that would happen. Mainly because he thought he'd end up in Davey Jones' Locker (figuratively) sooner or later. And yet somehow he managed to avoid that ( Read more... )

The old salt is busy. Writing. He's got a lot of ink, a nice new quill, and a lot of paper. And maybe this time he can finally finish the tale of Captain Jack and the mermaid. (A complete fabrication, so far as he knows, but one that he heard from at least seven sources in the past five years, and thus probably more true than Gibbs wishes to ( Read more... )