for survival;

open

“Fucker.”

[ His hand twitches at his side, begging to wipe that smirk off the Cyberplanner’s face. ]

“Oh, I’ve been terribly lost. What would I do without you? Kill myself, probably.”

#themanwithfrozenhearts #[main;]#[thread]

"Yes, well, I suppose I am that."

[ He sees the hand twitch and that only allows his smirk to widen. He's hardly said a few words and it seems that the Doctor can't even keep his anger under control. Yes, he certainly has missed this. ]

"Probably. Now, come on, don't you want to know what I've been up to while I've been away. You do know how much Iike telling stories."

empresssongarchive-blog-deactiv

open

River’s gaze was still icy, and she wasn’t effected by crooked smile. It took far more than that to unnerve her. She walked up to him and wrapped her hands tightly around his throat. “Would strangulation work better?”

#headmistresssonglunauniversity #welp she better not let it slip #[thread]#[main;]

Hands shot up quickly and only grab onto her wrists. Her grip wasn't nearly strong enough to really choke him, but it led to discomfort. The nails he had dug into her wrists and he pulled her hands off him fast as he could. He'd been making improvements to this body and one of them had been strength. Not that the body hadn't been strong before, it just hadn't been strong enough. "I think what would work better is if you continue to keep your hands off of me, love."

open

“I always figured you were Satan.”

[ He wants to reach out and grab him by the throat, but knows he’ll probably just laugh at him. ]

#themanwithfrozenhearts #[thread]#[main;]

"I take that as a compliment. You're being so kind today."

[ One of those trademark smirks crosses over his lips. ]

"So, tell me, Doctor. How lost have you been without me around to make your life a living hell every day?"

open

“Go to hell.”

[ He’s really starting to wonder why this idiot won’t just die already. ]

#themanwithfrozenhearts #[main;]#[thread]

"Ooo, I've been there for quite a while, dearie. In fact, if there were such a thing as hell, I'd be king of it."

[ Bantering, something he's missed while he was on leave. He's not going to be shoved down by the arse in front of him. ]

empresssongarchive-blog-deactiv

open

"I suggest you stop with the lies. They’re rather pathetic." River rolled her eyes, before staring at him with ice in her eyes. "I’m afraid that you’re only being egotistic. Now, stop your chattering on, so, that I can kill you quietly."

#headmistresssonglunauniversity #ahhh i've been good what about you #[thread]#[main;]

A loud chuckle emerged from his lips, one of those insane ones he was so good at and hadn't had the need to use in quite a long time. His lips formed into a crooked smile that had been polished over his absence to seem perfectly cruel. "I'm not lying about anything, love. I really did miss this whole, 'I'm going to kill you,' bit. Go on and pull the trigger then. Would've hoped I died by something better than gun shot, though."

open

theleafwasmymums

“Are you trying t’ say something t’ me about what I have or have not wanted t’ do? You don’t have the right t’ say anything about what I think or feel because you’re not in my head. I’m not falling for your tricks, Clever, and that’s why you can’t leave me alone. You won’t stop bothering me until you get what you want except there’s something in your way. Me. What happens between the Doctor and I is none of your business and if you think you’ll get under my skin because you’ve gotten some lousy information than you’ve got another thing coming. Now do us both a favor and sod off.”

#theleafwasmymums #[main;]#[thread]

"Well look at you trying to be smart with me. I don't have any tricks left up my sleeve though, Clara. It's sad, I know, that a villain could be brought down so easily as this. I'm going to be messing with you long as I can because it's fun. Before it was all about breaking the Doctor, but I think he's well gone by now. Why do I need to break him whenever he's breaking himself? Plus, let us just think back to that first conversation of ours, the fact that I know so many thing about him that you only wish you could. Clara, I know all of your weak points and I'm staying to push at them because I've nothing better to do for the time being. To me, you are merely a toy for me to play around with. Don't be offended or anything- after all you are the only toy I would ever pick. He was obsessed with you, with who you were, and now I still have some of the same thoughts he did. It's all very complicated and I wouldn't expect you to understand. The main points that you should get out of all of this is that I'm not leaving no matter what you do or say and you can try to get rid of me all you want, but it's not happening."

open

“Oh, God.”

#themanwithfrozenhearts #[main;]#[thread]

"Why, hello there, Doctor. I can tell just by the look on your face how much you've missed me."

[ Obviously they still hate each other and let's be honest that's never going to change. ]

empresssongarchive-blog-deactiv

open

River rolled her eyes. “How, charming.” Her gun was already out and pointed towards him. “Are we going to make this quick, or do I have to cancel my plans for the evening?”

#headmistresssonglunauniversity #[thread]#[main;]#omg hi bb

"Dear me, I thought you'd missed me River darling. Apparently I was wrong. Though I do dare say you should cancel your plans for the evening because I have missed you a bit," not that he'd missed her at all. If anything it was apparent she'd missed him. Clever simply doesn't miss people, it's just a way of life. It was nice to co-exist for a while but now he's getting back on his feet. "Of course I'm sure it was the body you've been missing more than the machine who occupies it."

open

theleafwasmymums

”Since when have I ever wanted t’ kiss you? I’d rather kiss a horse. Why d’you enjoy bothering me so much, Clever? Honestly I always end up smacking you and leaving so why not save us both the trouble and just leave me alone?”

#theleafwasmymums #[thread]#[main;]

"Oh, how I did miss that sass of yours. I know you never wanted to kiss me, love, but him on the other hand- Well you've wanted to kiss him a great deal. I don't plan on ever leaving you alone, hasn't that become quite perceptible by now?"

open

theleafwasmymums

“Don’t flatter yourself. I missed you as much as I love burning all my souffles. Actually I think I like burning souffles more than I like seeing you. Yeah, that sounds about right.”

#theleafwasmymums #[thread]#[main;]

"Oh, come on Clara dear. I know you've missed me quite a great deal. How about you give us a kiss, eh?"

open

"I'm sure that all of you pathetic souls have missed me, but not to worry, Mister Clever's returned and he's not going to be leaving for quite some time."

#open #doctor who rp #mister clever rp #open rp #oops hi

For Those Below | An AU | askclaraoswald

actualproperclara-blog

Clara had never particularly trusted the very well to do. It was almost an instinct that had been drilled into her and this belief has, more or less, been strengthened—- given her occupation. There was no way anyone could have that much without having had a few skeletons in their closets. And she was damn well determined to find Mr John Smith’s. Because she knew he had something to hide from the moment he opened the door for her, a well practised smile and a well cautioned air of grace that he had surrounded himself with only meant that there was trouble brewing. On instinct alone, she knew this was no ordinary man to deal with. This was not her ordinary game. And by now, Clara Oswald had learned to trust her instincts as they were what usually saved her life—- and countless others, thanks to the tyrants she has outed on the papers.

She greeted Mr Smith with an easy smile on her face. Well-practised, as she was quaint and rather dainty. It worked well when people thought her to be just Clara Oswald. Sweet, little Clara Oswald, works as a lifestyle columnist, with dreams above her station. Let them think what they will of her. She reveled in it. She lived in it. She needed it to stay alive. Look scared because that’s what they would assume of her. Feign ignorance and look pretty and people will be pouring in their secrets, thinking that you’re not listening. Oh, people did so love to talk when they thought nobody was listening.

”Clara?" She sounded amused more than anything. Maybe a little bit flirtatious, no matter how inappropriate that may have been. All part of the façade is all. Make them believe that they can only believe what they see. That was their faith, after all. Their faith was a faith that needed proof; that needed something for them to say that their beliefs are correct in their own minds and that other’s reasons. And when they believed themselves to be right in something, they’ll never accept anything else. They once believed that the Earth was flat and once their fact was widely believed, they became gods among men and anything else was unaccepted. Clara used their faith against them. After all—- who was God to a nonbeliever?

”How—- forward. I’ll assume I may do the same—- John?" she said, her pitch rising when it said her name. Clara appreciated her lilt all the same, rather hoping it worked in her favour in her goal to appear quaint and charming. It worked, more often than not, but she would not lie and say she did not appreciate a good challenge. A good mystery to crack and all that. The chase was as much fun as pulling the trigger was.

Clara played with the small pendant around her neck and allowed herself to look around the interior of his home. Pristine in its cleanliness — obviously, there was a housekeeper. The architecture was calculated. She stared with a certain wonder in her eyes, nodding along as he prattled about with his necessary niceties. She smiled kindly and tucked in her gloves into her pockets.

“Thank you but that won’t be necessary," she replied in the same nearly sickly-sweet tone that she was so prone to using in these first meetings. She hung up her coat and hat at the coat hanger, as he’d pointed out, and lightly tapped her hair into place. Well-practised enough to know that it would look as pristine as when she’d first done it that morning.

“I’m rather fond of raspberry actually. Bergamot doesn’t quite agree with me, unfortunately. I’ll have the pumpkin bread, though, thank you. Quite considerate of you.”

#th: for those below #actualproperclara

A good actress then. John Smith supposed he would see nothing else but that in Clara Oswald. It was quite obvious to him that she was. The flirting notes to her voice were put there on purpose and he decided to take note of it. And he could tell that she didn't believe him. She was here for something more than an article, she had that air about her. Deceitful. His eyes stayed trained on her with some sort of intense infatuation. Not a sexual kind, but a personality kind. Who was this woman and was she of some sort of threat to him? He did not believe her, however, to be this quaint woman in front of him now. Hair hanging nicely against her face, exchanging pleasantries with a sickly sweet tone. It was hard to keep the anger from his system, but he did. Again, he had nothing to fear. Everyone he'd killed had never been found out and they wouldn't suddenly be now. Melody would go to jail for the crimes and that would be that- he'd never loved her anyway.

Though he supposed he had to go along with her flirting. She'd think he was mentally handicapped if he didn't. A warmer smile filled his face as she questioned his usage of the name Clara. He knew how to raise flags in all of the right places and a sudden idea came to him. If she was here to actually investigate him in some way he would simply become a man who was unfaithful to his wife. Yes, this would be his cover up. Worried that his wife would find out about his sexual interactions with other women and being afraid about her going to jail. If he was put in some kind of pattern, well he would pick a woman and get her to play along. It was a brilliant plan and he knew it would work. They always did.

"Well I have never quite seen the point at calling a lady by her last name. Not whenever she has a name as beautiful as Clara. Not many people are named Clara nowadays and really you should keep it. A bit unique if you ask me. Do call me John if you please, I hate the idea of being called Doctor Smith outside of the work place." Another smile came over his features, this one less warm, more flirtatious. Acting unfaithful would be fun, though he briefly realised he was still wearing his ring. It was cool against his finger now and he was glad for the fact he'd had the decency to slip his hands into his pockets. Discretely he shook off the ring and took his hands out of his pockets.

"I will be sure to get you raspberry then, we have plenty of teas," Though he had prepared for the situation. He'd used a high class tea at first, but his digging had shown that raspberry was her favorite. A smug smile finally settled on his lips. "Trust me, my maid Deloris makes the absolute best pumpkin bread, I keep telling her to share it with the world but she seems perfectly content making it for myself and my guests." The pleasantries seemed to be wearing thin and he looked in the direction of the library. The raspberry tea was to be brought up as soon as he and she began to talk so that it seemed as though he didn't even need to give his maid the instructions.

"Do come this way to the library, its the best place to sit and converse. Though I did think of us talking in my study room, I thought it best we go to the scene, I suppose you'll want to know what happened, and it would be nice to have someone in there with me for once. I am sometimes haunted by seeing my wife stab innocents. God- her anger was so strong, I'd never seen her like that before." For a moment he shook his head and then swallowed, looking down at the floor as if he were about to break into tears. His eyebrows creased together and he took a deep breath, standing up straight and beginning to walk toward the library.

Let the Games Begin

Breath intakes sharply through her teeth as a voice fills the room, surrounding every last crevice slowly and deliberately. The man spoke with careful care and even without being given a physical form in the confines of Clara’s mind, she could see the strings of high regard that kept him upright no matter what sort of challenge was accustomed to him. She could see it as clear as day —- as though he were standing right in front of her telling her the ins and out of what was sure to be her coming demise. And yet he spoke in riddles, voice curling upwards in something that was surely shadowing a smirk that had planted firmly on lips that she could not yet see.

The voice stops and so has Clara’s pleas. She’s silent now, for the most part —- safe for the hushed breath that passes her lips and the sound of her heart racing right out of her chest. She was understanding now. Understanding how hope was a dwindling resource that she could not put her faith into relying on for her sudden salvation. After all, what good was hope when everything had become a show? When every little move was now being controlled by a man who hadn’t even told her his name?

But, see, there was one important thing to remember when it came to Clara Oswald. And it wasn’t the pure and simple fact that she was clever or intuitive or nurturing. See — Clara Oswald was brave. And even in times when it had felt like the last thing she wanted to be was brave — like the only plan that had threaded itself through her mind was the urge to cower and hide — she had two words to pray on until it didn’t feel like fear was surging through her veins. That all that was left to do was the slip down against the door and cry to her hearts content.

[ ---- Braveheart Clara ; ]

She was reciting that silent prayer in her head — words that not even she understood as pained gasps scraped by her lungs. Because she’s not just praying for bravery. She praying for safety and salvation as well. Perhaps that would be a cause for her freedom, praying on foolish whim and silly beliefs that there would be some last second rescue. That the door by her side would simply burst open and she would be free as simple as that. That perhaps this had been nothing more than some cruel joke on behalf of her mates after she’d had one too many drinks at the pub last night.

Oh but she knew all to well that this was not a man who believed in compromise or reason. That he would not simply let her free because she wanted it too much. He’d told her exactly what she needed to hear when it came to securing her freedom. Either Clara Oswald put on a good show and fought and clung to that glimmering hope of survival, or she died. No which way about it.

And see —— Clara Oswald was not a fighter. Her mother had been a kind and compassionate woman who had raised her to believe that violence was not a way to solve your problems. That using your words was the only way to get through to people in times of trouble. It had been a belief and knowledge she’d held particularly close to her heart. After all, doing anything else would’ve gotten rid of the only bond she had left with her mother after she died far too young.

Another breath drags between her lips as she pulls away from the door, hands curling in tightly by her side until it felt like her nails were about to break right through the skin of her palm. But that didn’t give cause for her to stop, if anything she just held tighter —- the action giving her something to keep her steady.

❝Who are you? If I’m going to die here then you’re going to tell me right now. Tell me and I promise. No takesie backsies.❞

#impossiblesass #th: let the games begin

She doesn't answer his question of making a pact right away and that very much annoys him. It takes him a moment to swallow it before he simply goes back to watching her. Clever is a man with many qualities of a mastermind. These little games of his are important to him and she seems like a terrible pick now that he thinks about it. She'll die straight away if they aren't careful with her and the viewers will be disappointed. Everything is silent, both in that room, in his control area, and in his ear piece. He supposes its either his move or hers, and yet he simply goes and takes his coffee from the top of the controls by a flickering monitor that isn't to be used until she gets to the fifth trial. He's doubtful she will so he doesn't intend on getting it fixed.

As he waits for her to reply he takes a long sip from his coffee. The warmth surges through his body and he continues to drink it until a good half of the cup is gone. Gingerly he sets it back down and wipes away coffee from under his lip. A static voice comes through his earpiece that says this needs to get a move on. With a slight flick he turns the intercom off so he can speak.

❝I know it does, but we need to see what she does, how she acts under the pressure of making deals. This is all part of our learning process and if it takes a few more god damned minutes then that's what's going to happen.❞

Then he notices a change on the girl's face. Something about her seems more brave, more like she could actually take on this little trap of his. A cool smirk fits over his lips and he toggles the switch on again. It amuses him greatly to watch her pry herself away from the door. There is a beat of silence again and then she's asking who he is. He could tell her exactly who he is, but he'll only give her a name and a lie about himself. He licks his lips loud enough so that it goes through the intercom. He breathes into it even with hot breath before answering her. He supposes he'll scare her, but he enjoys the fear of others more than he truly cares to admit.

❝No need to get demanding, Miss Oswald. I believe that this is a time for you to be begging if anything. My name is Mister Clever and I am the only thing that you have keeping you alive right now. I control this game you are about to play and I have the power to tear you apart. I can make your nightmares come true, I can make you see things you would have never seen at home, but most importantly I can make it easy on you. We can make this show entertaining and then you can go back home like nothing happened. You can get married, raise children, be a proper woman. That is if you make this the way I want you to. I am the person who holds all of the strings. Don't waste my time. Make it interesting.❞

Then he pauses again. Before continuing on with a spiel about her first trial. ❝After I open that door you're going to get to prove yourself to me. A monster lives behind it, a monster that is very close to you, closer than you think. Figure out a way to get rid of it, because if you don't cleverly do it then everything will reassert itself the way it should be and you will be gone. Don't bore me. Don't bore the audience. Survive. Don't let time reassert itself because it will unless you are clever enough to get rid of the monster. I'm giving you ten minutes to say what you need to to me, and get yourself prepared.❞

The press of a button and a timer his presented on the wall. ❝I like you, Clara Oswald. Please, don't screw it up.❞

hawkerly

Doctor Who’s Quinquagenary → Full Circle

"Perhaps I should go home. Back to my own planet… But I can’t… I can’t…” -First Doctor, The Massacre of St. Bartholomew’s Eve

"I have a new destination. My journey is the same as yours, the same as anyone’s. It’s taken me so many years, so many lifetimes, but at last I know where I’m going, where I’ve always been going. Home… the long way round.” -Eleventh Doctor, The Day of the Doctor

#NOPE

Let the Games Begin

Based on x

{Congratulations, you are still alive—

—Some people are so u n g r a t e f u l to be alive}

Clara had always been a particularly clever girl, exceptionally so in fact. Ellie Ravenwood and Dave Oswald had always taught her to be the exact best of her potential and nothing less than. They’d told her to not let people push her around and now when and if she needed to get out of something bad, especially if staying meant her life would be stuck hanging in the balance. But where’d she’d been intuitive, she’d also been a bit of a fool. A beautiful, little, fool really. Constantly believing that in one way or another she could save everyone. And she had for a little while - Clara Oswald had saved worlds. Not in this body, no — or under this name. Saving the universe had been a trait best left to the echoes. The shadows of her that danced about the universe without her acknowledgment. But that doesn’t mean she wasn’t brave or strong. Blimey — to hell with any man who’d tried to make her believe that she was little or fragile.

If there was one to be known from all of this, it was that Clara Oswald was a good woman. She’d always sat in the front of the classroom and answered as many questions as she could before people would start whispering things that were, well, not nice. She was the girl who stopped for the little kid who was crying on the street. Blimey, in twenty-four years Clara Oswald hadn’t hurt a bloody fly let alone think of killing someone had it meant her survival. You could look at Clara; notice her short skirt and shiny hair and adventurous gleam in her eyes and come up with a thousand other words opposite from murderer to describe her.

She was just Clara Oswald, the girl from Lancashire who was so scared of getting lost and letting down her mum, always losing her pencil and her mojo. She lived in dreams that were silent, unraveled roads that still awaited for her to reach out and grasp them — cling tight to them and run like mad under cover of starlight. Souffle batter would get stuck under pristine nails that had been kept as immaculate as the rest of her. Hands that would soon be blood-soaked in her attempts to become free once more — she just didn’t know that yet.

The first few seconds after she woke up had been blissful, her mind indifferent to the ache that settled somewhere in her temples. But then, oh, she remembered what was wrong. Tired, brown orbs finally flutter open to a bleak room. The chair is entirely too hard, the room entirely too warm. And even with the room being far warmer to be considered normal, there’s still a chill that runs from her skin right through to her bones. A quiet groan of distaste fell from her tongue as she attempted to shift in her spot, making a poor attempt to get comfortable on the block-y bit of furniture. Although she’s long since certain that such an option doesn’t truly exist.

❝—-Where am I?❞

The words may have been barely above a whisper from her tongue but they still cut across the deafening silence, nearly making her flinch at the sound of it. Her legs push her forward away from the chair and though she’s still unsteady on her feet she darts for the door — a stupid decision at best. It was locked, of course, standing right by her as though it was taunting her. Cruelly laughing bitter words as it carefully cut across her path to freedom.

Then she screams — she screams as though its the only thing left keeping her alive. And she doesn’t give up on that delusion of a plan, either. Its no more than few good minutes later where banging on that door is doing nothing more than hurting her hand and if she keeps shouting like that then she’s sure to end up with nothing more than a course throat.

The room is spinning messily in front of her eyes in that moment she’s not sure if she’s going to pass out or be violently ill or do some shocking combination of the two. There’s no coherent thought left in her other than the pleas to be let out.

❝Please — I don’t know where I am.❞