= i'm not afraid ;

       and she’s fallen asleep;
               this might not be the best place for it.



               This time you were lucky ! ❞

             ❝ Next time you might not be. 

       ❝ Oh, come off it. Don’t be a spoilsport.
                              I’m fine, you’re fine. It’s alright



          ——- You could have gotten yourself killed. 

       ❝ —— I think the important thing to remember here 

       ❝ is that I didn’t. 

So, you got up, got dressed, had a big row with your father. You went and told your mum about all these years of abuse. Then your mother came down, got breakfast, got you and Em packed off and out to school all in time to have a massive argument with your father, and eventually kill him. And this all happened in 15 minutes?
I don’t know.



Can we all just take a moment to appreciate how
amazing actualproperclara/Jo is? 
And how selfless and talented she is at literally 
everything she does? I mean she’s never mean 
to people, she works so hard and still has time 
to help others and talk to people when they need
a friendly ear. 
She’s just a perfect friend and I’m constantly amazed
at her writing, the way she personifies and writes 
Clara and MJ make me so happy because they’re 
actually two of my favourite characters.

I just really love Jo. Okay.
I think everyone loves Jo. 
& I’m always going to be there for you.





Because hot diggity dang, never has a soul been so absolutely LUMINOUS as the one you so posses like goodness grief stop this at once. Let’s talk about how you & Brodie have destroyed hearts and minds and sanity over freakin’ Tonyward ( LIKE IT KIND OF JUST PUNCHED EVERYONE IN THE FACE TBH and we all like it like it’s some kind of weird S&M thing lbr ). And not even just that like gosh, your sense of humour is a breath of fresh air ( /augustus waters: she’s funny without ever being mean ). YOU HAVE BEEN IN THE PRESENCE OF THE FUTURE KING OF ENGLAND LIKE YOU’RE BASICALLY A KNIGHT NOW. to me, at least. Because you’re noble, kind, and I’ll never forget the incredibly maturity & patience & kindness you bestowed upon me that one very bad night and I’ll always be grateful to you and thankful for you because of it. Your interpretation of Ward is so delightfully human; he’s charming, dorky, adorable — yet so fierce, fearsome, and astonishingly complex like hot damn, girl, you go. (He’s also damn fine but we can all blame Brett for that.) AND IN THIS WORLD that has been proclaimed so dark & dreary by nearly all its inhabitants (myself included), YOU ARE A BRIGHT SHINING LIGHT THAT MAKES ME BELIEVE THE SUN CAN COME UP ON THE MORROW. OR THE NEXT DAY. OR THE DAY AFTER THAT. You’re so great & I love you. And right back at you okay. /protects you from every evil. <3



                              ‘ Ah, well tis’
                indeed a pleasure to meet you
                Lady Clara.
                                     Tell me where is
                                     it you hail from?

       ❝ Starfall, your Highness. 



        Some believe they can make a difference
          while others seem to be using it like a silly
            popularity contest. 
                         And I’m sure they think they’ll be the top dog for
                         a while; forgetting about the principal when we
                         all know that the president is just going to be 
                         more work. Though if they want to do it. Good on
                         them !

          ————————- However ! If I get handed another
          bloody badge, I’m going to smite their stash. ❞

     ❝ Oh, there’s nothing wrong
     with believing you can make a difference.
                                             You totally could !

            But there’s all sorts of talk about how——
            they’ll remove the class system, which is
            properly  bonkers  considering  how short
            the   ruling  term  is,  or  something  about

                Honestly, it’s just a bit silly to me to promise 
                all sorts of poppycock to get power without
                really understanding the power you’ll get.

                   Ha ! Not understanding your power.
                                              Isn’t that a metaphor.

             And  I’d  like  to see  you try and  smash mine, mate.
             They’re   indestructible——   I   think.   Actually,   no.
             Don’t try. They’re  miniaturized hologram projectors,
             I worked hard on them ! Well, they’re not mine-mine.

                                        They’re Jim’s.

                    Speaking of which—— vote Jim ? I don’t really care
                    for office, really, but he does and I’m sort of bound
                    by code. 



 Oh, okay 
                           I can pretend I didn’t notice… ? 

            It’s shy and hesitant, but she manages the smallest of smiles back,
            lips curled upward, her gaze soft and friendly. Sometimes it feels
            like there’s a lack of friendship in her life so she’ll take it where she
            can get it.

Besides, the other girl’s well-concealed pride
                 in her work is quite frankly adorable.

                               It’s no problem. Really, feel free to intrude anytime.
                                    Technopath? That’s a new one. 

                            ❝ Teeny tiny bit
    too late for that, don’t you think ? 

            Lithe limbs find themselves seated across the other,
            hands atop knees pressed closed together. Her feet
            tapped  in  an  undecipherable  rhythm  on the floor,
            unable to keep herself from sitting completely still.

               ❝ ——Not too new, not really.
               There’s a fair few of us faffing
               about this place, I think.

                     And  you really shouldn’t  say  that  to  me. I sort of collect.
                     Old scrap, recycled electronics. Anything,  really, and make
                     it into something else. Never go anywhere without my little
                     bag of scraps, really. 



                             ❝ E L L I O T  T H E  I D I O T ❞

            ❊ indie OCRP blog for teen wolf
            ❊ selective follower
            ❊ canon divergent ; up to date with teen wolf
            ❊ matches partner’s writing style and length
            ❊ mun is of age

                                         index. ☣ message. ☣ rulesabout.


What does that even mean? He’s too agitated to really consider the implications of it; the Doctor’s always been quick to anger, just sometimes he’s better at tempering it, and it seems he left that particular mask with the quite literal one he’d shed on Christmas.

Good. Kill the boy, and be done with it. He is of fire and ice, he’s witnessed the birth of time, and he was there when it ripped asunder beneath the machinations of the Time Lords and the Daleks. He traverses the fourth dimension and can part eternity as a musician commands their instrument. It’s about time he stated acting it, to cast off the bits of humanity haphazardly stuffed inside himself in a futile attempt to be everything he never was and can never be.

He keeps his ground when Clara advances on him; watching her still and sharp even as rage bubbles to the surface.

"Go on, Clara,” his tone is piercing, every word an accusation and no longer does he shy away from her gaze. They both know what this is about, what it’s been about since it happened, but he wants to hear her say it out loud.


"Say it!"

                     Rage ( like venom ) bubbles to a boil;
     his words fuel  her  rage  and — if for but the briefest
     of moments — she allows it consume her completely.

           Blood rises and her face is flushed — her cheeks reddened,
           her  eyes  grew  watery — as he forces her hand. And force
           her hand he actually, properly  does as she charges full on.

                The sound of the  slap  can be likened to a gunshot,
                breaking  every  known silence. All the power of her
                tiny human frame was condensed and concentrated
                in that arm, that hand.

                         Primal  rage  envelops the woman who so prided herself
                         in control. This emotion — too raw, too real to hold back
                        — was what all five foot two of her embodied.

         When  the  nerves on the palm of her hand met with the skin
         of his cheek, even nerves she never knew she had could feel
         them.  There  was  no  façade  now —  no  lost  little  girl,  no
         woman trying to be every heroine she’s ever wanted to be —
         she  was  simply  one  being  who had lost so much and was
         denied the privilege of grieving.

                  She  shoves him with surprising strength she never knew she
                  had and with both hands, she pushes his chest back, and she
                  charges mindlessly ( like a bull                              to a matador ).

                          Tears — so commonly kept and concealed  behind  brown  eyes
                          and  between  sheets ( while  enclosed  in the darkest  of  rooms
                          where she was sure  of  her  solitude )  —  were  allowed  escape.
                          The taste  of  acid  is on her tongue. Her stomach churns as the
                          bile rises  for this venom was all too often swallowed, favouring
                          silence in the interest of peace. Her lungs heaved as her breaths
                          grew heavy, as if she were breathing fire.

                                                 With the way her nostrils flared, she might as well be.

                                                                                              ❝ You left me ! 
                                                               ❝ You promised and you left me !

                                                                             ( To let you die ; powerless, alone. )