mutuals consider this a STARTER CALL! like this and i’ll either write you a thing or come into your ims to say hello and plot!
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@remainingtimelord-blog
mutuals consider this a STARTER CALL! like this and i’ll either write you a thing or come into your ims to say hello and plot!

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the master.
he doesn’t make much comment or notice when he enters the console room – ignoringhis ‘company’, but not out of ILL mood. NO, he just stalks towards HIS chair before ploppingdown, going to reach for that book he’s nearly finished —— – then going deathly STILL.
❝ … Doctor. ❞ tone accusatory, a DEATH threat in the causality of it all.
❝ Did you mess with MY chair ? ❞
REVENGE TASTES SWEET, with an innocent simper tracing his face like venom. in their quarrel the claimed piece of furniture might have suffered casualties. ❛ y’know, it’s not your chair. it is my TARDIS. ❜ he doesn’t want to gift the master any more of his precious time, but his fingers give him away as they fall down from the control panel and curl into fists by his sides.
HELLO! this is mumrik and i'm rebooting this old 11TH DOCTOR rp blog after leaving it for dead two years ago! give this a LIKE or a REBLOG if you want to interact and to spread the word so i can get back in the game. i'll be sure to check your blog out!
the world doesn’t end because the doctor dances
claraosiwald:
WRISTS REDDENED AND IRRITABLE UNDERNEATH TIGHTENED ROPES, cheek scraped almost clean through. Clara whimpered, all care for the image of a perfect and strong woman she tried so hard to maintain lost. She would endure a lot of pain for a long time before she’d give up the information that was keeping her ( and the Doctor ) alive.
THE ALIEN THAT HAD LOOMED ABOVE HER FOR SO LONG WAS GONE, but that only left her to focus on the pain. She didn’t know how it had disappeared, but she was willing to bet the Doctor had something to do with it. He’d tried. At least he’d saved the world in the process. She could hear him coming —– even as she felt her concentration wavering, she recognised the urgent footsteps and the whir of his sonic. He couldn’t come in and get her. The room was censored; once someone stepped it would go off and the needle would press into her back, the poison infecting her too soon to be saved.
SHE TURNED ONLY TOO LATE. A ragged ❝ NO ❞ screamed as he pushed the door open; and in pressed the needle. It was kind really —– end her suffering. But wasn’t it human nature to want to live? And not to want their best friend to watch it happen.
HE'D WASTED TIME SAVING THE world again, but it didn't matter if he couldn't save his best friend. the timelord was DESPERATE; he couldn't let her down AGAIN. oh, wasn't he VAIN, wasn't he occupied with things which didn't matter—he had donned A FEZ while he didn't notice clara had been SNAPPED away from his protection.
the green light from his trusted sonic illuminated his face with a sick shade of green before his running feet found their destination. palms connected with cold steel, his body crashing against the door, and he could see CLARA –beaten, bloodied, bruised, and it was his fault– through the smudged window. it was locked, and the sonic was giving off readings, warnings about entering, but he didn't care. the ONLY thing he cared about was getting inside and make sure HIS FRIEND WAS SAFE.
the sound of footsteps against cold stone floor stenched with her blood echoed in the room, as he made his way over the distance setting them apart but all he could hear was the EMPTY voice of Clara's. he came to a halt, only to watch her collapse, he watched her body fall together and he KNEW. he had failed her a last time.
his hand found her cheek and his gaze found the familiar fading brown orbs. the doctor looked into her eyes and it hit him—he wanted to RUN, ( how he wanted to FLEE and run away from this ) like he had done so many times before; but he couldn't. his companion had COUNTED on him, she had TRUSTED him, – they all had – and now the doctor had let her down once more. except this time was different. this time was FINAL.
❛ clara.. NO, clara----listen to me, hey, you'll be all right, okay? you hear me? you're going to be OKAY.
it was neither beautiful nor poetic —— ( of course it was heroic, at least that was what she THOUGHT; she had sacrificed herself to save HIM ) she didn't deserve this. HE should have been in that chair, because he had promised, HE HAD SWORN he would keep her SAFE—but that wasn't true, not anymore, ( he was exposed ) reduced to his very core, a LIAR, a FRAUD. he was a FAILURE, and now he had to face reality: CLARA OSWIN OSWALD was dying, and again because of him.

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if by my life or my death i can protect you
i will
There’s a man called The Doctor. He lives on a cloud in the sky, and all he does, all day, every day is to stop all the children in the world ever having bad dreams. |x|
Keeping Impossible Secrets || remainingtimelord
It was like a weight hung over her shoulders. Clara hadn’t been able to do anything but to stand there. To help him once he had changed. With his creaming ringing in the small brunette’s ears, she had shut her eyes and turned away. She hadn’t been able to watch it all. His screams haunted her dreams sometimes, causing her to wake up in a panic.
Fortunately, the TARDIS had helped with the money issues. Clara had been able to find a small flat near to the university. It wasn’t much, but it’d do. She lived with no one, no. That would be improper for a woman her age, unmarried and not committed to, well, anything really.
Everything had its end.
She watched him with curiosity. He hadn’t even said hello in response. That was unlike him. He seemed in a daze…Good thing about working in the library was that students quietly speculated and, well, it hadn’t gone unnoticed that Professor Smith appeared to drift off during lectures every now and then.
"Not a problem, Professor Smith," she chimed, setting the books down onto an empty space on his desk. She had decided to ignore him calling her by her first name. "And of course I ‘ave, Professor Smith. That’s why they’re called dreams, isn’t it?"
"AH, WELL, yes. Maybe it is." He stared at the wall for a couple of seconds, thinking of something he couldn't quite understand. Dusty, OLD, green eyes went back to meet Clara's. She was so FAMILIAR, but she was yet a stranger to him, the only thing he knew about her was her first name. Except that she kept showing up in his dreams every night.
"Actually----you're quite right. See, there's just SOMETHING about you that...pesters me, you do indeed strike me as someone I know." He paused, momentarily drifting off again before he realised what he was doing and snapped back to Clara.
"Tell me, have you ever heard about this BLUE BOX; not like the ones used by the police, but rather STORIES, legends, something of that kind." John pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, leaving them to rest there as he shot a FINAL glance upon the papers on his desk before he gathered them his books into his bag, and stood up from his chair.
Walking from where his shadow STILL LINGERED, he was headed for the door, but he came to a halt and turned as long fingers curled around the door handle, opening the door for her in a SWIFT motion. "Miss Oswald, would you care to walk with me to the lecture halls ? "

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“Oh my – b… begging your p-p-pardon, sssir – I-I-I… Are… you alright?”
She had not meant to deliberately knock the other person over. However, running like that in the middle of the woods, it could certainly be interpreted as such.
❛ No, yes, er ---- 'm OKAY, never been better. What about you ?
It was a lovely sight his eyes took in until the whole world shook and he fell straight on his back.
starter call again.
ooc. I suddenly fancy a thread where 11 either loses or just has lost someone. preferrably someone dear. huehuehuehue

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( brownie. )
❝ – It could be a possibility that you are older than I am, but that still doesn’t change the fact that you’re being completely and utterly DAFT right now. I actually thought this one out, y’know. It makes sense.❞
❛ NO, see, if YOU thought this one out- I thought this one out. And I can see I'm certainly being daft---- Am I growing up ?