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@yes7erdays-a1
#yes7erdays, mostly favours travel books, science kits. strict ban on hair products. marginal for the naughty list, ’93. believer until the age of nine; a private, highly-selective, mutuals-only portrayal of 𝘊𝘓𝘈𝘙𝘈 𝘖𝘚𝘞𝘈𝘓𝘋 from bbc's doctor who (2005) , as lovingly told by odette (27, she/her, timezones are fake), headcanon based with show influences, anti-moffat && anti-gatiss, a sad tale about life holding hands with death.
⠀⠀ ⠀⠀¹ carrd ² interest tracker ³ meme tag ⁴ @nursc
marcus aurelius, roman emperor. last one of the five good and stoic philosopher. the only pin-up i ever had on my wall when i was fifteen. the only one i ever had. i am not sure who you think you’re talking to right now, madame vastra, but i have never had the slightest interest in pretty young men. and for the record if there was anybody who could flirt with a mountain range she’s probably standing in front of you right now! just because my pretty face has turned your head do not assume i am so easily distracted.
marcus aurelius, roman emperor. last one of the five good and stoic philosopher. the only pin-up i ever had on my wall when i was fifteen. the only one i ever had. i am not sure who you think you’re talking to right now, madame vastra, but i have never had the slightest interest in pretty young men. and for the record if there was anybody who could flirt with a mountain range she’s probably standing in front of you right now! just because my pretty face has turned your head do not assume i am so easily distracted.
actually, don't kill me, i'm gonna archive the blog. like... if you weren't here the day i made the blog... i did it in a moment of insanity. it worked for me. i love this blog, i love all of you, i love clara, i don't fucking know my tags.
so i created a new blog, and i'm gonna post it in a second. just like... yeah... support my brand y'all
“I told you I knew him.” There is not even a hint of the normal satisfaction he gets from these words; I TOLD YOU SO – he loved to be able to say this; tell it to his companions who had doubted him or whichever person happened to think there were going to be able to outsmart him. Person or enemy. This time, however, being right was more of an inconvenience. He was right – but he also was right about the young woman in front of him. Stubborn. Underestimated by his future self. This was not some quick rescue and escape, and he had to force the SIGH down, that wanted to escape his lips.
Eyebrows raising slightly at her suggestions, then furrowing, he shook his head slowly. “I am not interested in kidnapping you, nor do I have any interesting in torturing anyone. – But even though I seem to be repeating myself: This is not going to change your mind, either, am I right? After all, I could just be LYING.” The sigh still hangs in his voice.
“ – you make rescuing you very difficult, Clara.”
❛⠀⠀i can’t make it easy for you, can i? that’d make you sloppy. ⠀ ❜ ⠀playful words fall easily from her lips, head tilting to the side, cheeky even as she makes his life impossible. it’s familiar. the way she speaks to him. in a way that strikes her as strange: she shouldn’t be speaking to him this way.
he was a stranger. more than likely a kidnapper. possibly a murderer. there is most definitely a true crime podcast episode warning against this sort of behaviour that she listened to and forgot.
❛⠀⠀you keep telling me stuff. all you do is talk, talk, talk. that's not enough. you want me to go with you? you want me to trust you? earn it, pretty boy. ⠀ ❜ ⠀
good evening. perceive her.
Marian Brook, will you marry me?
THE GILDED AGE (2022 – ) | 2.06: Warning Shots
watching the latest gilded age and thinking about governess!clara accepting the proposal from the captain so she could be a mother to the latimer kids... but not being in love with him... ideas ideas ideas
@yes7erdays "that's not what we agreed on."
"Patience, my dear friend," he responded with a raised finger. "You'll have your supper soon enough; I just need to add some flavor to it this time."
Not having an entire kitchen worth of cooking material at his disposal limited his ability to conjure up a treat, but he supposed something edible and of some nutritional value was what mattered most when stuck out in the wilderness. Nevertheless, he was tired of the random assortment of food everyone else considered a meal. Today, he was making something proper, or as close to it as possible.
Still, there was something missing. It only took him a moment before realizing exactly what: wine, of course! Casting a mage hand to stir the stew for him, he dashed into his tent and returned with a bottle of red.
"Now, this is a meal."
❛⠀⠀patience is not among my many qualities. ⠀ ❜
if she was in charge of dinner, the meal would have been served ages ago. there would be no finery. the presentation would be lacking compared to the feast for the eyes gale conjured, but it would have been tasty, and, most importantly, it would not have taken an inordinate amount of time to be ready.
seriously, this was not a meal for the grand duke. what the hell was doing?
during the brief moments he was out of sight, clara lifted the pods and lids, nose crinkling. not with disgust. but with annoyance. it smelled heavenly. damn him.
❛⠀⠀this is something, ⠀ ❜ ⠀ she says, standing innocently in the spot he left her, hands clasped on her waist. ⠀ ❛⠀⠀are you finally done? or are we waiting for the string quartet? ⠀ ❜
⋆⭒˚｡⋆₊ ⊹ endless edits of clara oswald ( bg3 verse )
have i gone for two walks in the snow today??? yes
José Olivarez
"Clara Oswald, you coward." He grinned and pushed himself up off of the wall. A little bit of drama to kick the night off - the typical need to supply a password, all part of the experience. Elethea sure knew her swanky, high-end joints.
He was looking a little bit pleased with himself when he offered out his arm to her so that he could walk her in. The interior couldn't have been more different from the outside: an inviting Art Deco bar, just busy enough to provide a pleasant sort of atmosphere, with some easy music in the background.
Teasing: "Go on. Pretend you don't like it."
she’s danced at the edge of the universe, stardust in her wake. talked to creatures of myth, became a goddess, and splintered herself across time to save her best friend. she’s gotten herself into enough impossible trouble that she barely bats an eyelash at his obvious bait.
clara oswald is many things. a liar. an adventurer. a kick-ass teacher . what she isn't, is a coward.
❛⠀⠀i prefer the term 'wise'. same meaning, different implication. ⠀ ❜ ⠀ curling an arm around his, she follows him inside, half-smile curled on her lips, giving away nothing. it was one of the hardest things she ever had to do.
if she wasn’t embroiled in this game, she would have run off, wandering into every nook and cranny of the old-fashioned speakeasy to learn its secrets. as it was, she had to keep herself in check, satisfying herself with a thorough look-over.
❛⠀⠀and lie to you? never. it's nice. you did good, sutherland. ⠀ ❜
Oh, the look he gave her when he felt her fingers wiggle in behind his. It was something he knew he would do himself, but that didn't stop him from hypocritically glaring at her for attempting to speak—a glare that melted away when Clara surprised him by offering help, defying his expectation of further scolding.
He steadfastly refused to acknowledge that Clara tugging him by the tie was in any way enticing. Instead, he redirected his entire attention to their situation. Loosening his hand from her mouth but maintaining a close hold ('entirely for hiding purposes, to keep her safe'), he inquired, "Have one in mind or…"
His whisper trailed off as another pair of approaching footsteps echoed through the corridor, his gaze and attention returning to Clara once again.
There, he added another person to the list of those annoyed at the Doctor—himself. He couldn't fathom why he was so easily distracted right now. They were in danger, and he needed to protect her and secure the artifact. Perhaps it was her perfume that kept diverting his attention.
lips clamp together as the sound of footsteps near them. she makes a show of it, eyes diverting down to make sure he doesn't get any ideas ( even though she hadn't exactly minded his touch before. no, mind isn't the word she'd use to describe the feeling which swept up low in her stomach when he put his hand over her lips ).
clara waits until they are out of earshot and then counters to ten on her head. calm, collected, a born adventurer with a mind made for trouble.
❛⠀⠀i was thinking you should do what you do best: talk,⠀ ❜⠀ she whispers, eyebrows slightly raised, as if expecting a challenge. because she was. he never let anything go without trying to get the last word in.
❛⠀⠀simple, yeah?⠀ ❜⠀
GALEFCRCE: Independent GALE DEKARIOS of Waterdeep from Baldur's Gate III.
You find yourself in the presence of the renowned wizarding prodigy, Gale of Waterdeep - please, no need to be intimidated. My virtuosic talents once caught the eye of the goddess of magic herself, Mystra, who named me her Chosen, and her lover. Thanks to a slight miscalculation on my part, that relationship eventually soured, as did the greatest of my powers. Now I'm merely a humble wizard on the road to redemption. Unless I can find the path to something greater...
See CARRD for rules and about - played by Day (mun is 21+, selective, and mutuals only).
Ultimate fantasy.
If it were any other time, the Doctor would have had to fight off an eye-roll. They were excellent at so many things, perfect for one another in so many ways, but they lied—excessively so. He hated it every time; lies soured his mouth, and yet he always found them slipping out before he could stop himself. Lying was an addiction, no, a compulsion. He lied to protect himself when it only tortured him more.
Yet she was right—a thought that he certainly kept to himself—lies here and now were pointless. This was day number… what, he couldn't recall. They were already blurring together. Perhaps he should keep track, but he knew that would only drive him even more insane; the experience of losing Clara again and again already had him standing on the precipice of insanity. The only thing tethering him to the ground was the touch and comfort Clara offered the next morning.
"I won't give up," he replied. This wasn't a lie. He didn't know if he could save her, but he knew he would sacrifice billions of years just to try. "Not when there's hope."
Even without hope, he would try. For Clara.
"How do you feel?" The question came with layers, inquiring not just about her ailment but in all aspects of her well-being.
death is quiet. a looming specter, hanging at the door, waiting for a moment to snap it's cold claws into her flesh. she feels fine. nervous, terrified, nearly at her wit's end, but fine, which might be worse than feeling like she is going to die.
it would be better if she could feel there was something wrong. if she felt something, she could focus on it, work towards healing what was wrong. except, there is nothing, her body is fine, her mind is clear, foggy from sleep still. the shock of learning she is going to die at the end of the day is not as strong as a cuppa.
❛⠀⠀how do you think i'm feeling? ⠀ ❜ ⠀ ⠀a flash of fire burns in her eyes, question coming out in a huff. he has seen her die countless of times, unable to stop it. how does he think she can feel anything but despair?
only, that’s not a useful emotion. not when she is going to forget about this before the day is done. her time is brief; his isn’t. their unmatched lives have never seemed so diametrically opposed. for the first time ever, she is just a short chapter in his life.
if that.
( she is just a footnote in a book that spans millions of years. )
❛⠀⠀what do we do? you've ruled some things out, yeah? we gotta make a list. ⠀ ❜
