Feb 28, 2022
The Doctor: Violence isn't the answer.
The Master: You’re right.
The Doctor: *sighs in relief*
The Master: Violence is the question.
The Doctor: What?
The Master, bolting away: And the answer is yes.
The Doctor, running after them: NO-
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seen from Yemen
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The Doctor: Violence isn't the answer.
The Master: You’re right.
The Doctor: *sighs in relief*
The Master: Violence is the question.
The Doctor: What?
The Master, bolting away: And the answer is yes.
The Doctor, running after them: NO-
(( now I miss playing Stark, I might have to jam yet another side-blog somewhere.... ))
DO IT! And omg so did I, I still have them on a hard drive at my dad's, of the techscaper vids i mean! We're so fucking old lmao.
@master-koschei asked: “What were you thinking?!?”
“Thinking?”
The movement of his arm as he gestures to his own head is, perhaps, just a little too wild and uncontrolled for someone who claims to be suffering no adverse effects of any injuries. He sways unsteadily. Coordination? No, apparently his body isn’t ready for good coordination yet.
“When have you ever known me to think before rushing into something like this?”
As it happens, the Doctor can’t actually remember what he was thinking when he decided the best course of action would be to use himself as bait to allow people to escape. He suspects it doesn’t matter. Instinct tends to take over when there are people in danger and an opportunity to put himself at risk.
PROTECTIVE STARTERS
master-koschei replied to your post: //does anyone else ever laugh about how...
Kos vc: Well LOOK AT HIM, you can’t blame us for that.
Kos vc: My mundane is always making sport of me :c
@master-koschei said: *smol Master just POINTING at the Doctor* “He’s more twink than I am!”
“NOBODY LISTEN TO HIM! Nobody--” He’ll point RIGHT back. “You, shut it.”
libera me
libera me - write a small drabble about why your muse is awake at 2 am.
Midnight. As good a time as any to crawl into bed, isn’t it? He wasn’t tired, though, not by a long shot. Shouldn’t even need the rest, Crowley was a demon after all. But his body was used to the nightly few hours, and he wanted to meet Aziraphale in the morning, so staying up late wasn’t the best idea.
Twelve thirty. It’d been a half hour, already? He could have sworn he’d only gotten comfortable five minutes ago. The demon rolled onto his side, staring at the 1960′s digital clock on the side table for a good two, three minutes. Onto his back again.
One o’clock. Snake-like eyes were still staring at the ceiling. Why couldn’t he just go to sleep? What was stopping him from just. closing. his. eyes?
One thirty. It had to be something about the day prior that stuck to him. Was it the way his angel looked when he said that? Was it the way the angel spoke after he said it? Shit. Shit, shit, shit. He shouldn’t have said it.
Two o’clock. His hands covered his face, fingers curling against his brows. This was his own fault. He didn’t have to say that he hated what he was. That he hated knowing what would have happened if they hadn’t traded faces. That he loved Aziraphale, he really did, but he hated being Heaven and Hell’s Romeo and Juliet, how everyone but themselves seemed to want to separate them. But he did, and the angel retreated again, and he stormed off again.
How was he even supposed to come back from that?
master-koschei
"I'm still technically correct, so I rest my case."
“Does that mean you don’t want me to boink you?” he snickered.
The Doctor: Remember when you didn't try to solve all your problems with attempted murder?
The Master: Stop romanticizing the past.