#be1indas

[drj0nes]

𝚖𝚘𝚋𝚒𝚕𝚎 𝚋𝚊𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚛 ; written for @be1indas !

“ you’re a godsend ! i’ve been gasping for a coffee since lunch and just haven’t had time . how did you know ? ”

[klarsynt]

@be1indas sent: ❝ i know what you’re doing. you think if you get me mad enough i won’t be so scared AND HEY, it’s working! ❞

despite the urgency of the situation amusement briefly flutter across his features. knowing which threads to pull to illicit any desired reaction is par for the course as an empath and a spy ( well, ex spy, ex torturer, ex many things...he's working on it ), but it isn't a tactic he typically uses on his friends. however, in this instance, he makes an exception. he supposes she would rather be slightly manipulated than dead. ❝ yeah good. now get over here and help me get this door open. ❞ he gestures towards the broken elevator. ❝ i'll pry it open, just need you to make sure it doesn't close again and cut my legs off. you can yell at me for being an asshole later. ❞

[klarsynt]

@be1indas sent: “ don’t bury your feelings. sadness. hurt. rage. feel it. acknowledge it so you can decide what you want to do with it. not what it will do to you. ”

           her words are almost muffled at first. his ears are filled with the sound of his own heartbeat, blood thrumming too, hard too fast through his veins. the universe is full of wonders. it's also full of horrors. out here he finds all the same cruelty and violence that earth has always held for him. it's not that he expected anything different. all species find ways of hurting each other. humans in every damn time, in every corner of the galaxies, find ways to harm that which they do not understand. maybe that's what has him so worked up. the fact he can't escape it even all the way out here. his knuckles turn white as his grasp on the railing behind him grows tighter. emil stares almost blankly at the tardis console, watching the way bits of it move, watching the lights glow softly: brighter then lower, brighter then lower. he matches his breaths with the rhythm. 

❝ the problem is i know exactly what i want to do with it, ❞ when he finally speaks, his voice is taut. his fingers twitch. they itch to dole out retribution that is not his to take. that's the deal isn't it? they get to ride along with the doctor as long as they play by his rules. driving a knife through the skulls of the assholes who exploit helpless creatures is definitely not within those parameters. hazel hued gaze slowly slides away from the console to the woman next to him. he searches her eyes. he doesn't know what he is looking for, but whatever it is he thinks he finds it because some of the tension eases out of his muscles. he can easily see why the doctor likes to keep her around. his voice is a little softer when he asks ❝ what do you do with it? ❞

[rosemarion-a]

(@be1indas.)‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎❛ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎hm?‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎no‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎...‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎not timelord.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ its tone vibrates with an uneasy frequency, slightly monotonous, and eyes just out of the range of normal human colors to the point in which someone staring too long would feel the ease to tuck their chin, turn their head‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎––‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎belinda doesn't have the luxury:‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎it won't let her‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎(‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎doors are locked, perhaps against what the doctor would call better judgment, perhaps in a fashion the doctor would call rude‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎...‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎but he isn't here, is he?‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎).‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎❛ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎'m not the doctor, but i do know what i'm doing.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎❜ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎it moves with an ease that the poor timelord never has, always muddling about with quick steps and heaved chests.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎no, no, the wolf touches each switch with its own gentleness, flicking them until the movement that is felt on grates beneath their feet feels like a gentle harmony, the push and pull of late night waters on a quiet beach.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎❛ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎he sent me to gather you, said you wanted to still see the stars, hm?‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎❜ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎suddenly, golden orbs peer upwards, stone cold face, echos of tears stuck somewhere in the corners of her eyes‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎...‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎rose's eye's, forever, never to fall.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎❛ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎you can trust me, belinda c.handra.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎❜

[welshpunches-a]

❛ yes . . . i know how to navigate a pissin' hospital , rhys ! this is just like the drive to barry . . . no ! . . . you took us to bloody newport ! . . . oh , shut up ! ❜ rolling her eyes at the voice in her ear . she's armed with salvaged spray to neutralise a suspected weevil . she didn't expect flotsum and jetsum to take her over the border . turning a corner , bumping into a nurse .

❛ sorry ! i was lookin' for the porter's wing . . . the stinky place . . . ❜ trying her best to appear nonchalant . . . snatching the device from her ear before rhys started one of his rants . recovering with a genuine smile . . . she still had it . nodding her head , of course she's thinking of a lie . ❛ i'm pest control . ❜

@be1indas liked for a starter .