[ open ];
✉ from: doctor – milennia year old alien
seeking twisted com-
panion to have fun with
cyber!verse – open
“No time for small talk. Doesn’t
matter why you’re here; just l e a v e.”
“——- Toodle-oo.”
– april fools – o p e n
“Holy-- since when does Luck use icons for me?
I’m betting he just likes the colouring, that ass.”
– open
“Voices! Voices for sale!”
“They can’t pay my head’s rent anymore,
and quite frankly, I’ve grown bored of them.
One of them is playing the sound of drums
twenty-four hours a day, and the other is
knocking four times every five seconds.
Don’t know where they learnt it, and I don’t care.
I want them out of my head by tomorrow.”
Does twenty pounds sound like a fine price?“
I’m told I was once the hero. The candlelight that
beamed hope onto surpressed families. But here’s
some news for you; I’m not him. I’m not that candlelight
anymore. I’m the shadow that lurks under your bed,
waiting for you to turn off the light. I’m the monster
in your cupboard, sneaking out at night to gently
show you my collection of knives. I am the one..
who blew out the candlelight with a smile.
Hello. I’m the Doctor.
Basically… Run.”
- 𝕚𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕡𝕖𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕟𝕥 𝕕𝕒𝕣𝕜!𝕖𝕝𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕙 𝕕𝕠𝕔𝕥𝕠𝕣 -
⋈ - eight months of roleplay experience
⋈ - five years of writing in general
⋈ - some triggers are not tagged, as they
happen too frequently on this blog.
⋈ - icon, gif icon, chat, thread, text, etc.
⋈ - multiship, multiverse, OC, crossover-friendly
– open
“Hello there, gorgeous.”
– open
He is slowly brushing pale, crusted blood from his favourite knife, when something crackled in the background. A step of a shoe, perhaps, or a breeze, moving through dozens of leaves with grace– No, it definitely was a footstep.
“Who’s there?”
“—- All alone.. at last.”
“Anyone up for donating some blood?”
“I’m really not sure about asking this, but–”
“What is ‘sex’?”
“Hello, old friend..
and here we are–
you and me.
on the last page.”
—- And with that, a meat cleaver was brought from the shadow of his back. The Doctor let his finger trail over the metal edge, ignoring the ticklish sharpness against his flesh. Looking up at the redhead, he let out a smug grin.
][ – ][ The gleaming edge danced across the palm of his hand in a straight line, leaving behind a line of scarlet as if it were a slug. The trembling sensation he felt when the knife cut through his skin was not one of pain; it was mere sweetness, as if he had seasoned the stretched wound with sugar.
He moved the knife to the side of the table and clenched his hand into a fist, squeezing drops of blood, which now elegantly formed on the bottom of his hand, from the wound. The Doctor had to do this. He always had to, with each dinner that came by. The steak in front of him seemed to laugh at him as he felt the sticky liquid in his fist harden slowly.
The Doctor did not have a voice in his head telling him to do so– It just had to be like this. He had to let a drop of his own blood fall on his food, clashing with the different flavours he was about to devour.
Shaking his fist a bit, the drop of blood fell down on the piece of meat, and then– Another one. Another drop of blood, falling on his plate, before he could pull away his hand. Two drops. ][ – ][
“No. This is unacceptable. Why? Why, why, why,WHY?”
][ – ][ His arms flew to the table and moved rapidly to the side, throwing the plate and food to the floor with some noise. As he licked his wound and savoured the cloying blood, he turned around and stepped back into the kitchen. Now the Doctor had to start all over again. ][ – ][
“Hungry–”
"– So very hungry..“
“Sorry about the mess.”
