Oh my god okay I need to actually start writing things

I know I've said it a million times, but I. Am. So. Sorry. I've had so much schoolwork with finals and stuff and I've been using all my writing time and energy to write this new Ryden fic on my Wattpad and I'm also just kind of slipping in and out of having the motivation to do anything so yeah. I don't even know how I'll find time to write next year since I got into the best and hardest high school in the city (I'm still really happy I got tho even though I'll be stressed af)

So yeah I'm kind of just going through crap, plus I'm taking extra classes that extend into the summer so that I can go straight to sophomore math classes in my freshmen year so I just have a lot to do. Major kudos to you guys for sticking with me and not hating me (well, not totally, at least. Maybe. Please? Yeah okay let's face it you all hate me).

Honestly I feel like shit right now but I owe this to you guys so I'm just gonna power through this.

Literally 2 months later, after graduating from 8th grade and being followed on Tumblr by the author of the milk fic: Ayyyyyyy I'm a piece of shit and for some reason have no inspiration or talent whatsoever but now I'm actually going to write this

Doctor's POV:

Despite the dramatic "allon-sy" at the beginning, the journey down the hallway is slow, careful, and incredibly tense, not to mention completely silent. Resisting the urge to shatter the confinements of stealth and heroically charge into the unknown, I tiptoe down the corridor with Gwen close at my heels.

Gwen manages to stay silent for a while, until we've been walking down identical hallways for several minutes. "Are you sure you know what you're doing?" she whispers skeptically.

"Of course! I'm a master at mazes," I reply immediately, turning to face her.

If anything, this statement only increases her doubt. "You sure."

"Who do you think the Minotuar story is about?"

"Ha-ha," she says wryly. At my lack of response, she raises an eyebrow. "Wait, seriously? You're that Thistles guy?"

"Theseus. And no, all he did was follow the path I left behind."

"Why's he the famous one, then?"
"Well, I wasn't as strikingly attractive as I am now."

Gwen shakes her head, looking slightly amused. "I've got no idea how Rose puts up with you."

I shrug, and luckily I'm slightly ahead of the Torchwood agent, so she doesn't notice how the grin on my face is slightly too wide to be real. "Me neither."

She seems to pause in her path down the hallway for a fraction of a second, before quickening her pace slightly in order to catch up with me. "We're going to find her," she tells me, in what I can tell is the voice she uses to comfort those whom she has rescued back in Cardiff. The lost and confused, and sometimes near insane, who have, in one stroke of particularly bad luck, discovered the truth about everything that goes on outside of their world, and perhaps lost a close friend or family member on the side.

Yes, this is definitely the tone Gwen reserves for them, with its uncharacteristic meekness and sympathetic feel, mixed with concealed desperation and slightly false-sounding positivity. Like the voice of a parent when their 5-year-old just dropped their ice cream, hurriedly assuring their child that they'll replace in the hopes of avoiding a tantrum. My smile is much more convincing this time, though I do lengthen my strides to get away from the horribly pitying face she's making at me.

I may be an advocate for the helpless and needy, but in no way am I one of them.

My reply to her sentiment (which was going to be a jaunty "You are correct, Gwen Cooper") is cut off when Gwen stops abruptly, furrowing her brow at a seemingly random scuff on the otherwise shiny metal wall. "Are you sure you know where we're going?" she inquires, "Because we've passed that same scratch at least five times."

I'm about to answer her with some sort of unconcerned reassurance when I take a second glance at the spot she's pointing to and realize that it does look slightly familiar. I take a step closer to it warily, retracing our path in my head. We can't have gone in a complete circle, so what is it? A message of some sort, or is it a-

"Oh look," a loud and sickeningly familiar voice interrupts my train of thought. Gwen and I look around wildly, searching for the source of it, but there appears to be none.

Our captor, who I realize has still not properly introduced herself, sounds uninterested as she speaks, as if she has much bigger concerns than us. Concerns pertaining to Rose, perhaps? The double pulse from my two hearts quickens as her disembodied voice continues to speak. "A glitch. See, that's the problem with scavenged technology. It's just never quite as nice as it was before some imbeciles threw it in the void. Such a shame."

Suddenly, a rectangle of wall above the apparent glitch lights up and becomes some sort of screen, revealing the owner of the voice, standing with her knees bent so she can look straight into a spherical lensed camera, which I soon deduce to be the eyestalk of a Dalek. Her eyes glitter with malicious satisfaction at my flabbergasted expression. "Ah, yes, you must be confused. But really, you didn't think escaping would really be that easy, did you? One measly little door and a couple of Daleks? Honestly, I was expecting more from you, doctor. And the fact that it was your little piece of cannon fodder there that noticed the repetition before you did? Laughable, really."

My eyes widen as the cause of this predicament dawns on me. "We haven't moved at all, have we? You've trapped us in some sort of illusion… that's rather impressive, actually."

"Doctor!" Gwen hisses, obviously disapproving of my last statement.

"Just stating the facts!"

The woman clears her throat and flashes an obviously false smile. "That he is. Of course, I could've done it much better back in my own universe, but no matter. I won't be holding you for long, anyway. Wouldn't even need to, if it weren't for that whole Planeta Amore fiasco. Such a waste of resources, that one. Of course, it was a great chance to perfect what little virtual reality tech is available here, which is really what made this whole endless hallway thing possible, so really, I should be thanking you for…" she continues on her narcissistic tangent, but it becomes a sort of white noise as my focus turns to the part of the frame just beyond her pale neck.

About twenty feet behind our captor is a cylinder, which I originally took to be a pillar, but I now realize is something much more pivotal. What I first thought to be just an iridescent coloring I now notice to be not solid at all, but instead a cloudy substance, moving in slow spirals inside a glass case.

It's bright, almost blindingly so, and the more I look at it, the more mesmerized I become, and the heavier the sudden brick of dread in my stomach becomes.

This woman, with her Dalek army and apparent passion for evening gowns, has somehow managed to steal and contain the heart of the TARDIS.

Speaking of said dress-obsessed woman, I blink out of my racing thoughts to find her letting out a cold laugh. "I see you've managed to catch on, Doctor. A pity, really. I do love explaining myself," her eyes continue shine in some sort of sadistic ecstasy as she presses her lips into an expression of faux disappointment, before waving a manicured hand to the side, as if too shoo away the minor letdown. "But no matter. It's your reaction that I enjoy, and what better way to experience an honest reaction than with a live performance? Really, I…"

I tune her out again, which is becoming increasingly easier each time she opens her mouth. Perhaps there are perks to being taken prisoner by such a talkative individual. Regardless, I've noticed something much more pressing on the screen that the narcissistic woman in the foreground.

I have to squint for a moment to make sure it's really her, but, then again, exactly how many slightly disheveled blonde girls can there really be on a Dalek ship in the middle of the void? Yes, it's definitely Rose, and I watch in a mixture of relief at seeing her and horror at her surroundings as I watch her blonde head and curvy body appear on the screen and begin to walk across the room.

After barely a second of watching, though, any residual relief fades, leaving only dismay. She doesn't take her eyes off her destination for even a second to survey the scene happening no more than thirty feet away from her, as if she doesn't even realize Gwen and I are there, being displayed on what I assume to be a screen identical to the one I'm watching her through. No, she is facing completely ahead as she walks, even leaning forward a bit, almost as if in a trance.

And that trance is leading her straight for the grand centerpiece of the room, the ever-so-worrying cylinder holding one of the most powerful substances in the universe.

The heart of the TARDIS.

I manage tear my focus from the scene just in time to catch the last statement of the speech of the woman behind it all. "I would have you all write essays about this one-of-a-kind experience, except I seriously doubt you'll live long enough to turn them in."

Going through old chapters, I realized I used to write THE SHORTEST CHAPTERS IN THE HISTORY OF THE UNIVERSE OH MY GOD 466 WORDS WTF I CAN LITERALLY FIT THAT ON MY COMPUTER SCREEN WITHOUT SCROLLING AT ALL wow I sucked why did you guys even keep reading this lmao. I like to think that my writing skills have improved over the course of this fic