That's hardly me.

Home - Ask - Submit The name's Smith. Matt Smith. Sometimes the blokes call me Matty, but ey, they're full of it. I'm an actor, currently living in London, and I love football. And socks. And a bit of your everyday nonsense. There's only one thing you need to know about me: Bowties, ladies and gentlemen, are cool. [A Chameleon Arched Eleventh Doctor roleplay blog. A spin-off of Ven from somewhere in his timeline.]

[mistermatty]

  "How's it, kids? Coming along, ey? Hi!"

[mistermatty]

   "Oooweeeooo! Weeeooooouhh-- that's how it goes, right?"

He grinned cheekily.

[mistermatty]

File:Matt Smith_

Any actor worth his salt has a responsibility to reinvent himself from part to part.

[was-sammyheughan-deactivated201]

[mistermatty]

i play a man who thinks he plays a man in a tv show but is actually the man himself in disguise as the man who plays him

[harknesswife]

[evolution-of--the-daleks-blog]

[your-lonely-witches]

Dante shrugged. ‘Its all yours if you want it’ he smiled. ‘Its meant to come to this room so it won’t matter. Should I take it in for you?’

[mistermatty]

"I suppose if it was meant for me," he trailed off, happily moving aside and pushing the door open enough to give the other man enough room to squeeze inside. His hotel room was nothing if not bare. Everything he had was packed neatly in a suitcase at the foot of the bed. The telly was on, just quietly, playing something from international news on a low volume. On the mattress, he had a script sprawled out, very worn-looking and overused. "The table's free on the other end of the room. Wow, there's even a soda? I'm in Heaven."

[itsdemonique]

"Alright then, let me rephrase that, I’m not room service, I’m your hotel neighbor who’s completely and utterly bored." Now it was her turn to act coy and sheepish. "Bastille? Oh yeah, I have heard of them. Good music. Though cool isn’t the word I would be using.”

[mistermatty]

"Oi, what's wrong with cool? It's the best word to describe everything amazing. And Bastille is definitely amazing." The music had stopped, but he felt particularly like dancing to one of their songs in his head just to prove that they had enough rhythm to be deemed cool. He may have also looked like a dancing fool, but that was collateral damage.

[riseabxve]

+1 Spider

[riseabxve]

"I’m sure I could. Would just have to write up a few things, toy with a new equation… I could probably do it." Peter grinned, clearly very serious. Freaking Doctor Frankenstein, he was.

Peter rolled his eyes playfully, grin still in place. “Oh, don’t get all starstruck over him. He’s, ah, not the cool one. Pops is Captain America, so that’s, like, way cooler. And, yeah, um, great to meet you, too. Sort of a big fan. I’m trying hard to not, um, have a huge moment.”

Peter grinned, looking a little pleased with himself. “Yeah? Um, looks good.”

[mistermatty]

For what it was worth, Matt was overly impressed. And he wasn't really, not often. Perhaps excited, but it did take a lot to impress him. The feeling was mutual, he supposed, and that was a good thing about meeting people; the trick to making friends with a career like acting.

"Really? They're both pretty cool to me. Anyone saving lives is fab." Chuckling, he gave the younger man a wink, finally satisfied without having to fuss with his hair. Oh, he always was. In and out of the dressing room, during interviews, photoshoots-- he was a big fuss.

Matty took a few steps back and gave a twirl, tugging his scarf down to appear more photo-esque. "Well, Mr. Photographer? I'm ready for my close up. I'll pose for you, Petey."

[seriouslymaxisfine-deactivated2]

"I’m glad," she said, still in a bit of shock, "Well, I, uh… Didn’t think I’d actually meet you…." Max stood, her outsides normal but her insides screaming. Oh god, that accent, that face, that chin. He was everything she’d dreamed of and seen and imagined he’d be. He even smelled nice. 

Clearing her throat, her face turning red, she tugged her sleeves. “W-Well, I’ll, uh… I’ll leave you to yourself, M-Mr. Smith…”

[mistermatty]

Meeting fans was always so cute. They were all different, of course, different people, but he loved them all. Most of them didn't know what to say, some did, but he always liked to try and make it a personal experience. That's what he'd want if their roles were reversed.

"Are you sure? I mean, these crisps are great. I bought them at the shop on the corner. Nearly froze in my wellies, honestly." Matt disappeared and returned seconds later, holding out the bag.

[aroseisjustassweet]

Pets~ mistermatty

[aroseisjustassweet]

That’s right, she thought, a smile on her lips, Come to your Queen.

Her hands smoothly ran through his hair, soaking in his energy. Oh, he was more than Matt Smith. The Doctor, his memory gone and all human-like. His energy was still just as potent, but she took it slowly. She wanted to savor this. 

"I guess I can…" she murmured, her lips ghosting up his neck, "But only because you’re so cute, Matt…”

[mistermatty]

Matty wondered why she looked at him like that. It was so peculiar, like she was ready to eat him up. Was he just that attractive? The magazines did say he had a wonderful profile, but he wasn't as conceited as he pretended to be.

"Thanks. I don't know what I would have done--," he shuddered when she grazed his neck, feeling the flesh underneath the water rise, "--if you hadn't." Slightly flushed from the heat of the water and the proximity of their bodies, Matty drew arms around her back, drifting long, deft fingers against her shoulder blades. "Warm enough for you?"

[themasterofwhat-archive-blog]

mistermatty started following you

Conflicted emotions came with Chameleon Arches. Confusion, flashes of memories that you swore weren’t yours - sometimes, you thought you were mad. “Keep an eye on me," the Doctor had said, eyes averted. "Please." And so the Master had.

The vacant office had been rented; doctorates and certificates had been falsified. A shiny plaque underneath a “Psychiatry” sign read “Dr. Alastair Brent, MB BS, CCT”, and inside sat one of any number of young women the Master had acquainted himself with, acting as a secretary. All would-be clients were told Dr. Brent was not accepting new patients until finally the expected gentleman walked in.

A quick call was made, and he was informed that Dr. Brent “happened” to have had a “cancellation” and was free at the moment, to just head on back.

There sat the Master, perusing a book on psychology with his feet up on his desk, leaning back casually in his chair.

"Mr. Smith, was it?" he asked without looking up at first, then closing the book and standing, crossing the room to shake the young man’s hand. "Pleasure to meet you. I’m Dr. Alastair Brent. Call me whatever you feel most comfortable with - Alastair, Dr. Alastair, Dr. Brent - doesn’t really matter to me. Have a seat."

[mistermatty]

When he'd woken up that morning, Matty was shaking.

Any man would have, really. It was freezing. The temperature gauge hadn't been adjusted properly in his flat, but that wasn't the reason for his shivering. He'd called Tom, his agent, as he always did when he felt like he was losing his grip. After all, he was the one who had to schedule interviews and meetings and rehearsals-- no one wanted to see a batty Matt Smith.

This time, it was serious. Tom suggested seeing someone, and although reluctant, Matt agreed. What was the harm? He wasn't crazy, he just needed something -- someone -- to qualm the nightmares.

The only reason he knew about Dr. Brent's office was from some old flier that Cheese had stolen from his mail slot and chewed on. Most of his mail went straight to Tom, but this one he had to yank out of a cat's gob, something he couldn't have considered anything else short of a miracle. If he believed in miracles, anyway.

"Hi. Yeah, hi, I'm Matt. Well, Mr. Smith, I guess, but that's a bit formal." He fidgeted, glancing behind him at the couch against the wall. Before sitting, he reached out to make sure it was actually there. Sometimes the strings of his nightmares had a better grip on him than he liked to let on. "Sorry. I've never actually done this before. But I suppose you could consider it an emergency, so thanks. Really. For taking me in, I mean." Matt finally settled down, cowering against one side of the couch so that he could have something to support him. He tried smiling, he did, but he was also glancing around Brent's office nervously.

[your-lonely-witches]

Dante stood there with a large plate of food looking rather confused. ‘You didn’t order anything?’ He looked at the door at it was the number he’d been ordered to go too. ‘Well that’s odd..’

[mistermatty]

Matty bit his lip, decidedly tempted by the dish Dante was holding. Realistically, he could have ordered something and then forgotten about it. But what if it wasn't his and someone else was disappointed? "To be honest, I don't remember. That looks delicious, though."

[itsdemonique]

"Um…yeah. Not really room service. Just wanting to know if you could turn down the beats and what you’re listening too. Never heard this song before and I like it."

[mistermatty]

"Not really room service? Does that mean I'm half right, at least?" The man hummed eagerly when she mentioned his music, shyly backing up and steering into the room so that he could turn down his player. "Sorry. That's Bastille. They're great, aren't they? Really cool."

[seriouslymaxisfine-deactivated2]

"S-Sorry to big you so late. I heard you were here and I tried really hard not to bother you, but I guess my curiosity got the better of me and I just… Wow, you’re really Matt Smith."

"Sorry. I’m Max."

[mistermatty]

"Oh, a fan!" There were always those nasty stories where celebrities ground out their fans, but Matty was always polite. Unless he was piss drunk, then he had no say over his actions.

"Hi. Max, right? Cheers. You found the right suite."

[twiceten-deactivated20140901]

"Yeah I was. ‘s not really room service. Well it could be, but I honestly don’t know anymore. Oooohhh. What sort of crisps?"

[mistermatty]

"You could be? Is that some kind of sensual advancement? Are you a stripper?" Matty was too busy laughing to care much, but upon the mention of his crisps, he held up a finger and disappeared. He popped back a few seconds later, waving the bag around. "Honey barbeque. I'm so American."

"Has anyone ever told you that you look a lot like my friend David?"