We are a small but welcoming group of Doctor Who enthusiasts that also share a love for Roleplay! We have members of all sorts of RP styles and levels of experience, so don't be shy if you're new! We all start somewhere!
As far as plot goes, it is fairly free reign, with the occasional structured event. Storylines range from Canon to Alternate Universe tellings and anywhere in between! Imagination is your only limitation with the possibilities!
So, go on and browse our canon list and see who's free to snatch up! OR, if you have an original character, we eagerly welcome those as well!
We can't wait to get to know you! Happy RPing!!
Updates
09/19/2017 Mandatory Activity Checks are now a thing of the past!!
No one enjoys doing RP posts when it feels like a chore. So we are doing away with it completely. There are still some posting requirements, but we hope this will make things feel much more relaxed. Be sure to review our rules to get all the details.
Events
No Events have been planned or scheduled, yet. Be sure to check back in. If you have an ideas for events, feel free to contact staff or leave a reply in our suggestion box.
“There you go, Ma'am..two dozen strawberry ice cream cupcakes. Hope you dont mind if they're a 'baker's dozen do you? I had some extra batter left over so I added a few more to your order.. Free of charge of course.” Of course, his idea of a few extra was nearly an extra dozen cupcakes. He smiled brightly as the woman inspected her order. The elderly woman smiled and reached over the counter to ruffle Tristain's hair. “They look beautiful. My granddaughter is going to love them.” she chirped.
Tristain leaned happily into the caress with a nostalgic sigh. His mother used to ruffle his hair. “Always a pleasure.. Tell Ella I said 'Happy Birthday' for me.” The woman smiled and placed her hand on his shoulder, nodding to the little ornate frame that Tristain had set up on the display counter. “Your mother would be proud of you.” and paid for her purchase and left with her order. Tristain bit his lip and looked to the picture on the counter. A little silver frame with Rina's picture in it. He picked it up and he trailed his finger delicately over the image of her face. He smiled softly and kissed the picture, setting it neatly back in place.
It was finally time to close shop. He flipped around the little 'we're open' sign to show 'Sorry, we're closed', locked the doors, and shut off the lights inside shop, leaving only the lights in the display windows on to show off the ornate cupcake display. He quietly made his way up to the apartment that his family lived in, above the shop. Thanks to his father, Leon, and his Great Grandfather, Tomaz, the apartment was bigger on the inside and there was more than enough room for all of them. He poked his head into his parent's room. Empty. “Dad must still be out in the yards.” He raked his fingers through his shaggy blonde hair and was about to close to the door when he saw something sitting on the dresser.. he'd never seen it before.
He curiously made his way into the room and picked up what looked like a strap on leather wrist band with.. for lack of a better description.. what looked like a small calculator under the flap. It looked like something spacey or.. time travel-y. Surely Rowan would know what it was! “Hey Ro!!” and he darted down the stairs and through a door behind the kitchen that led down into a basement greenhouse. He hurried past the odds and ends of plant life that his sister grew here, stopping to pet one. Yes, he was petting a plant. Ro had named it after him. As he trailed his fingers under one of the leaves, a small vine curled gently around his finger almost like a small hug before letting go. “Hey, Rowan? Are you down here? I found something in Dad's room!”
Perhaps the basement was not the most likely place you’d find either a teenage girl or an army of plants, but the Keâts family was anything but normal. The basement was unusually humid, especially when compared to the cool nature of the bakery upstairs. Upon first step in the basement one was met with loud music – this moment, “Smooth Criminal” by Michael Jackson. There were a few plants bobbing along to the song.
“Hey, Rowan? Are you down here? I found something in Dad’s room!” Trist called from the entrance. She squinted past the rows of plants and saw her brother’s feet over by Tristain the Plant. Trist was the only person that she would allow to enter the basement, asides from her uncle who would occasionally supply her with more seeds. As close as she was with her father, she was convinced he would step on something or try to cut his way through the plants. At least her plants would survive if Trist fell on them, not so much with Léon.
Rowan let out a small grunt of acknowledgment. “Yeah, I’m over by Jackson,” she called. She was on her hands and knees, planting another one of her creations. Her face and gloves were smattered with dirt. She’d just gotten done playing a game of ‘let’s see if we can pick up Rowan and toss her around’ that some of her more lively plants liked to play. Rowan wasn’t particularly impressed, but she supposed it spoke to their respect for her that they didn’t try to eat her. They did, after all, have ferocious appetites.
That was why she had named one of them ‘Nico’.
She sat up, swiping some of the sweat from her face, smearing the dirt again. She patted Jackson as she stood up. Jackson nuzzled into her hand. “One of these days I’ll figure out how to make you guys talk,” she promised. “I’ll name it.... Audrey II,” she decided, grinning. “Feed me, Rowan!” she cackled. The plant didn’t move. Ro pouted. “Yeah, well, I thought it was funny.”
She took the gloves off her hands and tossed them over to the bucket she kept her supplies in. She swiped the device out of her brother’s hands. “Well...” she said, poking at it curiously. “Obviously it’s a... doohickey,” she finished lamely.
Tristain started down at the strange contraption as Rowan fiddled with it. He could always count on Ro to have an answer. She was the smarter of the two after all. “Woooooow.. A doohickey..” he exhaled almost breathlessly, obviously impressed by her knowledge. “What does a doohickey... do?” He lifted those bright green green eyes up to his sister. “OH! Do you think maybe it's one of those.. small time travel-y things Papa was always talking about? A.. Syntax Calculator?” he tried lamely. Okay so he was close. His fingers curiously reached to tap some of the buttons along with Rowan as they tried to discover exactly what it was they had found.
“I wonder what this one does.” he replied curiously as he pressed a small light green button in the far corner. The moment he did, the manipulator emitted a high electrical whine and a sudden spark flew out. The thing was quite old after all. A pale blue field enveloped the twins.
When it was all over with, Tristain looked around. This wasn't the cellar. This wasn't even the bakery. In fact.. He wasn't even sure this was London. He clung pathetically to Rowan and let out a rather delicate squeak as a car drove past. The tire caught a puddle of standing rain water and splashed the two of them, and the Vortex Manipulator. A loud electrical pop and a sizzle of smoke later, Tristain concluded that whatever the heck was in their hands, currently no longer worked. “Oh Ro.. I'm sorry.. This is completely my fault. Come on, we need to figure out where we are and call Papa. He and Tomaz are going to be worried when he sees were not home.” he nodded meekly.
Rowan sighed and put her hands on her hips as she stared at her brother. “I don’t know what a doohickey does,” she said, sounding exasperated. “Well... not specifically,” she clarified, careful not to ruin her wise image. “But generally it does... hickeys. Nasty business, really.” Ro nodded as she listened to her brother’s theory about it being a Syntax Calculator. “That doesn’t sound right,” Ro said.
She resumed poking at the various buttons, humming cheerfully. She looked up with a quirked eyebrow as her brother asked what a certain button did. “Wait! No!” she said, trying to slap his hand away. She had seen enough movies to know that pressing buttons was okay – it’s when you asked what it did that there was an issue. “Trist!” she squeaked, grabbing his arm tightly. “I am so telling Dad!”
And when she had finally gathered her senses, she was soaked. She picked up a rock and hurled it at the car, shouting obscenities and general threats. She huffed and crossed her arms, staring at Trist. “Are you all right?” she asked, grabbing her brother and checking for bruises and scratches. She took the device from him and stuffed it in her pockets, looking around them. She grasped his hand tightly and peered around them.
“Do you even know where we are?” she asked. Ro huffed and dragged him down the street, grabbing a newspaper from an older man. “Oh, stop it, I’ll give it right back,” she told him when he let out a disgruntled yell. Ro patted his little elderly head as her eyes scanned for the city named. London. 2013. 20... 13. “Trist... Trist! Trist! We aren’t even... we’re...” She thrusted the date in his face, smacking his arm urgently.
“We are so beyond nailed that not even Maxwell’s silver hammer could get us out of this.”
He winced as she checked him over. Somehow, he'd broken his wrist. His lip hung pathetically. He didn't land funny or stumble.. or anything. But there he was with a clearly broken wrist. The skin around it was turning a deep tinge of purple and was severely swollen. He tucked his arm into his shirt to keep his wrist from moving too much. As her fingers explored, looking for bruises, she found one just under his jaw bone and he winced slightly. “I'll be okay, Ro.. Really”
“Do you even know where we are?”
He shrugged helplessly as he looked around him, feeling completely disoriented. He watched as his sister marched over to snatch a newspaper from an old man and he smiled over to him reassuringly. He then looked around at the surroundings. It looked like London but.. Buildings that he remembered looking very old and dingy looked like they'd only been built a few years ago.. Practically new compared to crumbling, falling apart, and covered in graffiti.
“Trist... Trist! Trist! We aren’t even... we’re.. We are so beyond nailed that not even Maxwell’s silver hammer could get us out of this.”
Those bright green eyes went wide in shock as he snatched the paper, looking at it more closely at it. “2013? But.. No.. That means.. We're not even.. and.. Our parents aren't.. but.. This could be a really good thing, Rowan!” he chirped, suddenly 'Mister Bright Side'. He grabbed her hand with his good hand and began to tug eagerly. “This is McNeeley street! I.. I know where we are!! Let's go find the house!” he exclaimed excitedly. Their father had never really explained Time Travel protocols to his kids. Tristain's little hearts were thundering away at the idea of heading to the bakery and seeing his mother again and just giving her the most adoring hug ever.
Rowan sighed at her brother, shaking her head slightly as he enthused about how wonderful this was. “No,” she said, trying to explain to him why this wasn’t a good thing at all. It was hard to get a word in while he was on one of his tangents, however. “This means we weren’t born, Tristain! Our parents haven’t even met yet. Why does this sound like a good idea to you?” she asked, her voice laced with cynicism. If their parents didn’t know they existed yet – then how were they supposed to interact with them? Wasn’t there a movie about this? “Tristain…”
But instead he went on, grabbing her hand and cheerfully declaring he knew where they were. “Trist,” she repeated, looking a trifle annoyed as he continued to speak. “Tristain! It would just be awkward and… bad! If we go to them now, then what if they never meet? Or fall in love? Or have us?” she insisted, digging her heels into the ground as he dragged her off. “You just aren’t thinking!” she insisted, wheeling him around gently and staring into his green eyes softly. “Listen, Trist. We’ve got to think this through. We can’t just get into the thick of things here.”
Ro licked her lips and broke eye contact, trying to soften her usually blunt demeanor. “Listen…” she said slowly. “I know how much you miss mom, but this isn’t a good idea. Yeah, she’ll be alive, but she isn’t mom. And you can’t just run up to her and give her a hug. If we’re going to meet with them, we can’t let them know we’re related to them. And we can’t just show up at the same time, you know?”
He sighed softly, his shoulders lumping slightly. He hadn't thought of it like that. He looked down at his sister, chewing softly on his lip as he rubbed the underside of his jaw with his uninjured hand as he tried to figure out what they should do next. He winced when he rubbed the underside of his jaw where the bruise was and felt a bit of swelling.. lovely. He'd fractured his jaw. Bright green eyes locked with Rowans. “I don't get it.. I didn't fall.. didn't bump anything.” he motioned to his jaw and then gestured to the broken wrist he was keeping tucked into his shirt sleeve. Oh that would be typical. He was so fragile, even The Time Vortex could beat him up.
“Well.. we can't just stand here.. I looks like it's going to rain again” he replied, looking skyward as the gray clouds began to roll in. He seemed completely lost in thought as they started walking. “OH!” he suddenly exclaimed flailing his arms excitedly. “Didn't mother used to volunteer at a center for aliens new to Earth? We could go there! I mean, it makes the most sense. We don't have anywhere to go right now, we could still run into mother, and we- Oof!!” he stumbled back clutching his head and turned to look and see what he'd run into. He blushed from the tips of his ears and down his neck as he stared at the lamp post.
“Must have... snuck up on me?” he offered with a bashful smile, employing his papa's sense of humor to the situation, trying to act as though he didn't just absentmindedly walk right smack into a stationary object that was painted a dark but obvious green. In any case, he cleared his throat, trying to play off that it didn't even happen despite the fact he'd probably just given himself a mild concussion. “Do you even know where that place was? Mother took me once when I was four but.. I don't remember where it's at.. Maybe we should ask that guy for directions!” he chirped pointed to a man across the road. Tristain raced happily to the stranger and went to cross the road over to him, just as a small car was coming past.
“Yeah, she did,” Rowan affirmed, her eyebrow raised. What did that have to do with anything? It dawned on her finally and she crossed her arms. “Tristain, that still isn’t a good idea…” she protested weakly, although it really was their only choice right now. He was right. They didn’t have a home, and they were just kids who were nearly twenty years out of their time. They needed a shelter, and one that wouldn’t ask too many questions. Unfortunately. Rowan hated to rely on other people.
She shook her head lightly as her brother slammed into a light post. “Tristain,” she said. “Really?” He was going to get himself killed if she didn’t keep an eye out for him. “Here, let me check that out for you,” she said, but he was already talking again. Rowan lowered her hands, listening to his question with a slightly tilted head. “Yeah, I think I remember where it is. I went there enough, anyway.” She was the stronger of the two siblings, there wasn’t much of an argument there, and she had often helped lug cupcakes to the shelter.
“Ask what guy? What! No, you can’t just talk to strangers!” she insisted, and then paled as he just leapt into the street without looking. She hurried forwards and pulled him out of the street, the crosswind from the car nearly bowling them over. She grabbed a post to get her balance back. “Tristain Atticus Keâts! Can you please not get us killed?” she demanded. “Come on, I’ll lead the way.”
“Tristain Atticus Keâts! Can you please not get us killed? Come on, I’ll lead the way.”
Tristain smiles a little sheepishly as he realized he'd very nearly had become a Tristy Pancake. He ran his fingers through his shaggy pale blond hair and lowered his head as his cheeks turned red. “Sorry, Ro. I just got excited. But.. You know.. All that aside, This center at least wont ask questions and IF we run into Mother.. I doubt she'll put two and two together.” he offered, trying to make it sound like he wasn't TRYING to find her, meet up with her, and give her the biggest hug ever.
No, Rowan was right. Priority number one was keeping a low profile until they could figure out a way to get home. As Rowan valiantly led the way, his head was thinking out all sorts of possibilities. “What about Meme? She's a time lady person, right? She's used to all these kinds of weird 'out of time' things right? Maybe she could help!” It was equally a far fetched notion, but Trist really was only trying to help.
As they came up to the center, he drew in a deep breath and reached to grasp his sister's hand. He was trembling. He was nervous. What if he did meet his mother? What would he say? Trist had no guile and there was no way he could lie to his mother, even if she wasn't his mother yet. “Rowan? M.. Maybe this isn't such a good idea.” Sure, he wanted to see Rina again but, he realized there was no way he would be able to even look at her without breaking down into tears.
As he grabbed at her and pulled her to a stop, Rowan let out an annoyed puff of air, turning to him. She knew it was all his fault that they’d landed in this mess, but she just needed him to follow her without asking questions. If there was a time for him to start questioning her ability to discern the difference between a ‘good’ and a ‘bad’ idea, this was not the time. She crossed her arms, looking at him closely. He looked as nervous as she felt, though she’d stamped that down as far as she could. She knew he could feel her nervousness if she wasn’t careful, and that was the last thing she needed.
“Of course it’s a good idea,” she said as patiently as she could muster. She gave him a brief, but tight, hug. She would just have to find a way to keep him quiet. If they encountered Rina, he would definitely give them away. Or… just him. Rina and Tristain had always had more of a bond than they had. At times it had driven Rowan crazy with jealousy, but that was the past. “Don’t worry,” Rowan soothed. “Even if she figures you out, she’s going to want to have you. She loves you. And I bet she’d love you just the same now as she will.”
Tristain shifted from one foot to the other. Something he did when he wasn't sure what to do. But her sudden hug had him drawing in a calming breath. He didn't know how she did it. She was always the brave one of the two. Rowan had always been so fearless where Tristain had always needed someone to cling to to reassure him. Rowan was his rock. And even though he'd shut her out for nearly a year when they were kids, she was still there for him. He adored his sister so when she asked if he trusted her, he didn't even hesitate in answering her.
"Of course I trust you."
He leaned down to dot a kiss to her cheek before taking a step back. Those vividly bright green eyes glanced around, trying to remember the way to the refugee center. He hadn't been since he was a child but everything was starting to look familiar. "Come on.. I think it's this way." he said, his voice soft with insecurity but he squared his jaw and walked forwards, the whole time, trying to figure out what on earth he would say to his mother if they ran into her.
Rowan nodded and followed him, slipping her hand inside of his. She wasn’t sure what she would say to their mother either if they encountered her. There were many things she’d like to say, and not all of them nice, but she knew she wouldn’t. In the end, they couldn’t talk to either of their parents. Neither of them were blessed liars, and she knew Tristain would crumble under the pressure. She squeezed his hand a bit tighter as she thought about that. She knew that he would, so why was she putting him in a situation like that? There had to be something else that they could do that wouldn’t cause her brother to become distressed.
But they couldn’t do anything else. She pulled him into a tight hug. “We’re going to be fine,” Rowan repeated, trying to assure herself as much as she was him. But she couldn’t let him know that. She was the strong one. Supposed to be, anyway. When they came to the building, she took a deep breath and opened the door, raising an eyebrow at Trist. “You ready?”
Chaos in Time is the original work of Ace and D.G.. Any and all content is copyrighted to Chaos in Time.
Copying, altering, or stealing any of the site's content is prohibited.
All of Chaos in Time'S characters are the original work of their owners may not be replicated or stolen.
All images and graphics belong to their rightful owners and Chaos in Time does not claim to own any of them.
The skin was created by TIMELAPSE OF WICKED WONDERLAND and was recolored by D.G..