#badwo1f

[we1sh]

📂 <3

Send “📂“ for a random yet completely useless headcanon I have . accepting .

gwen passed her driving test by skin of her teeth , she had twelve minors on her test . she also took an emergency driving test as she was classed as a critical worker when she worked for south wales police . this is why she's so fast in the car , and very good at weaving in and out of traffic , she loves using the blue lights when in the SUV . and she loves to drive , she's always in the driver's seat which can cause arguments with rhys .

[earthspin-a]

☆ ࿐ ˚‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎) ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ he's clawing at something just out of reach,‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎something out of the corner of his eye that comes in a just out of focus:‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎a light ray,‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎human skin.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎they're fighting it,‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎the urge to look‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎(a greek tragedy,‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎orpheus trying to keep his chin tucked down but this time out of fear‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎––-‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎for if she isn't there,‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎it'll be clear that their own mind‎,‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎or the TARDIS itself has chosen to hurt him,‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎yet again).‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ a hand moves up and sits to cover his mouth,‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎a pressure against his skin and for just a moment,‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎he tries to not breathe:

the image doesn't sharpen,‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎and there's still something missing‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎...‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎(two names sit at the back of their mind,‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎scrambled and untouchable,‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎a nightmare).

❛ ‎ ‎ ‎ @badwo1f, ‎ ‎ ‎ ❜‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎her name falls like the beginning of a prayer,‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎like words whispered behind a confessional.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎where have you sinned doctor?‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎right here in front of me.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎❛ ‎ ‎ ‎ i'm worried‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎...‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎it feels like‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎––- ‎ ‎ ‎ ❜‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎the voice trails off,‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎and only for a quick moment does he peer up to her‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎(so human looking,‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎like them,‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎but something unruly beneath).‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎❛ ‎ ‎ ‎ never mind. ‎ ‎ ‎ ❜‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎they're quick to shake their head,‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎❛ ‎ ‎ ‎ would you like to go somewhere? ‎ ‎ ‎ ❜‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎avoidance,‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎his very special saved tactic.

[maydette]

' rose is a real sweet name. ' ain't the time for a conversation like this, honestly. but annabelle wouldn't be in this situation if she were any good at keeping her damn mouth shut (her pa said she spoke faster than she thought-- but who the hell listens to their dads anymore these days?). but, back to the point, really: the two of 'em were crouched in the dirty cellar beneath the saloon, trying to politely ignore the echoing knocks on the door above them. her dress was getting dirty from the ground, pock - marked with little aches of water-- damn assholes outside! ' got a cousin called rose. she ran away with the butcher, though. and she wasn't half as pretty as you, so i know you ain't her. sorry, ' she laughed, shaking her head. ' i'm usually more put together, but that banging is giving me a real headache. you think he's gonna get through to us? what should we do? ' @badwo1f

[anquenin]

❛ i thought you’d like some company. ❜ 

"ah well...not just anyone's company...people can be so terribly exhausting." astarion does not stop looking at his phone until he starts speaking. rose an ever growing mystery slowly unfolding before him. he's hiding here, like a coward. not ready to face the music so to speak, unnerved to think of what could possibly happen to him if cazador knew where he was exactly. it has become a force of habit, running off to rose's flat. which is sometimes empty, but it feels better. as barren as it is at times, it is better than rotting inside his own place, haunted by the man who essentially owns him. he had been in the couch, not doing anything, unable to. injury barring him from what he actually wants to do. "-so, now that you are here. how was your day?" he asks, to fill the silence with something other than just nothing. to maybe get his mind out of the cycle of thoughts that do not let go off him. "-do make it interesting, though if you please. if my brain feels anymore boredom i'm afraid i'll succumb to it and die."

@badwo1f

[n1nth]

❝ i only came here for you! you could at least look pleased! ❞

@badwo1f liked for a starter!

[thr4ce]

starbuck knows galactica's brig like the back of her hand. it's something of a second home, a symbiosis formed in deep channels of repetition that gives her an edge, now that she's on this side of the bars. it's her initials carved into the bulkhead; her dogtags that have etched a series of minute grooves into the cot. @badwo1f looks uncomfortable here, like a cornered dog, and that suits starbuck fine. tonguing over the backs of her teeth, she marshals what information she has with a slowness. her tempo.

" i'm only gonna ask you this once, " they say, " so you'd better get it right the first time. how did you get aboard this ship? "

[timedthirteen]

i don't think i know who i am.

it had been so long. her own personal millennium come and gone; countless civilisations had lived and died, countless stars born and burned, since these eyes had looked into rose tyler's. paradox swirled around her in flurries of dark, anti-time, vestiges of the universe she'd torn a hole in to come here. she was impossibly beautiful. it ached to hold her gaze. [ no being alive could look upon their god painlessly. in this, the doctor was no exception. ]

" you're everything, " she said, and it was quiet like an ancient secret. " everything at once. all of time and space, and i left you there. oh, rose, i'm so sorry, i didn't know. "

all that time and it felt like yesterday. some things were fixed, some things always happened, were always happening, and that day was one of them. she'd learned to tune it out. she'd had to. for a long time she'd wanted the pain to consume her forever, to carry it with her, to become a creature of bottomless grief so long as it meant rose's name stayed written into the canon of this universe ... but nothing was forever, nothing, and people needed saving everywhere. guilt gathered in her fingertips, prickled on the back of her neck - reliving. remembering. distantly, she recognised that she had begun to cry.

[bringslife]

❛   why   won’t   you   ever   tell   me   that   you   love   me?  ❜

ah, why not indeed.

his hands freeze half way in the middle of flicking on switches on the tardis console. his fingers twitch, a need to fiddle with something, anything to dispel the nervous energy flowing through him.

"don't i?" the words are said casually. the words are cowardly and he knows it as he barely dares to glance at rose, focusing intensely on the console. of course, of course he loves her, how could he ever not, rose tyler had known him when he'd been wrapped up in anger and guilt — drowning in grief. there couldn't possibly be a version of him that didn't love her. still, the words feel stuck in his throat, if he could just get the words out, if the fear stalling him could just dissipate. "i do, i would never stop, of course i do,"

[the-replay]

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎@badwo1f.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ –‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎❛❛ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎YOU MADE A FEW MISTAKES. ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎IT'S ALRIGHT, IT'S OKAY.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎❜❜‎

❛❛‎‎‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Stop lyin'.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎❜❜‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎His tone is harsh, quick into the infinite air around him but nowhere near a yell.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎It's spoken through gritted teeth, nearly spat as they turn to match her gaze‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎(and where she glows, he grows angrier‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎...‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎is it alright?‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎is this alright?‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎is this okay?).‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎It's hard to discern where his punishment is, what is punishment is‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎––two options, loneliness in a cold sweat, like quitting affection without any preparation‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎(leave rose alone and call it a day, leave her somewhere better and say that's for the best),‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎or, option two, lose and lose and lose and lose‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎...‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎and then what?‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Even when they gain, they lose, even as they look to rose with something behind their eyes that stretches back centuries, they're going to lose.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Some piece of themself, like some piece of herself‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎––left on a fucking beach.

❛❛‎‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Don't tell me it's okay.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Don't tell me it's okay, it's not.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎It's not!‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎❜❜‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎The final sentence is yelled, echoing and bellowing into the air:‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎had anyone else seen him, maybe it would strike a chord of fear‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎(would any of his people, gone again, see the time-lord start barking like this‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎...‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎what would they believe?).‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎❛❛‎‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎There's‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎...‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎I'm unwinding, Rose, there's something wrong with me and‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎––‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎❜❜‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Anger melts away like wax slipping down a candle stick, ready to harden again but never quite leave, ready to collect until it's spilling over.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Then there falls a single tear.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎❛❛‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎I cannot win anymore.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Once I started this, this,‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎❜❜‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Their hands wave in the air, as if searching for the right words, trying to grab a hold of them, but truly there is nothing left and he's grasping at nothing.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎❛❛‎‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎I'm exhausted.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ It's not alright.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎❜❜‎

[dosminius]

@badwo1f liked x

❛ What’s wrong, my dear? ❜ False worry is laced within his words, giving a (fake) look of concern at the individual in question before sitting next to them. HE COULD CARE LESS about what the other is going through at this hour, possibly adding more to their pain if it was even possible on his end. But no, he had eyes on him at all times because of the press. He needed to play the part of MAGNUS DRAKE, businessman of the people. ❛ You can tell me. I don’t BITE. ❜ Unless you want me to do it.

[n1nth]

"You like me because I'm a scoundrel."

MEME; accepting.

❝ i wouldn’t use the word scoundrel… ❞ he grins at her as they walk through the unfamiliar streets before he puts on an exaggerated thinking face, ❝ menace, maybe? narky? ❞

[earthspin-a]

❛ did you miss me? ❜ ( 15 hehe )

☆ ࿐ ˚‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎) ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎if memory is a knife,‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎@badwo1f is holding the hilt:‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎they'll take it that way,‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎let her hand be the one that twists the ache rather than have her hand be nothing at all.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎her question acts as the first twist,‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎pointed right at heart one of two.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎what a silly question,‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎almost spoken aloud‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎––-‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎he'll miss and miss and miss and miss until there is nothing left of him.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎even if he's given something,‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎its always taken away,‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎and then the doctor is left reaching with extended fingers:‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎give me something to hold onto,‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎give me this.

❛ ‎ ‎ ‎ oh rose t.yler,‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎of course i missed you. ‎ ‎ ‎ ❜‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎the words fall like a confession,‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎easily off of this tongue in a way that his past self could only dream of‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎––-‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎vulnerability,‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎veiled.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎if she pushes too hard,‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎they'll freeze up‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎(a flashback,‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎a rebirth of the man that once left her on a beach‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎...‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎he sees it when he blinks).

❛ ‎ ‎ ‎ i um‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎... ‎ ‎ ‎ ❜‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎its now that he steps out of the booth in their head,‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎the one with someone waiting with open ears to hear all their secrets.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎the wall he ignores falls back up.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎i have so much to say to you,‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎will it ever be enough?‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎if she would let them,‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎he'd sit on his knees for thousands of years spilling everything over and over until it seeped into the very seed of the earth‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎––-‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎until his apologies became a part of the ground she stood on forever.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎but if he did so,‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎maybe she'd see him in a better light.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎how could he ever have that?‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎instead,‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎his chin pops up slightly,‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎lips pull into something warm like a grin,‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎and they offer in the softest voice available:‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎❛ ‎ ‎ ‎ i missed you more than i can say,‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎but- ‎ ‎ ‎ ❜‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎a hand reaches out,‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎welcoming,‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎❛ ‎ ‎ ‎ you're here now,‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎eh? ‎ ‎ ‎ ❜

[rejenny]

❝ what aren't you telling me? ❞

@badwo1f liked for a one-liner!

[leftfarm]

𝚕𝚞𝚔𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚍  in  the  middle  of  nowhere.  meaning  that  things  don’t  just  appear  without  significance  and  that  it  was  more than  likely  if  he  wasn’t  tuning  up  a  vaporator  or  a  droid  the  kid  was  bored  out  of  his  mind.  so  when  he  looked  to  the  distance  and  found  a  strange  blue  box,  it  was  inevitable  that  he  would  investigate.

the  speeder  parked  with  a  flurry  of  sand,  and  sure  as  it  looked  from  far  away,  it  was  just…  a  blue  box.  with  a  rifle  slung  around  his  shoulder  luke  circled  around  the  object,  looking  it  over.  led  by  curiosity  he  approached  the  door  and  reached  to  open  it. @badwo1f

[str1ga]

013.   a great ballroom during an elegant party . [ astarion ]

oh this. . . this is good. my breathing feels better already as i take a look around us. there was a time in my first life where a place like this was quite boring. i came from money, which perhaps was something that attracted cazador to me in the first place. but it doesn't quite matter where i came from after spending the next two hundreds years in destitution. cazador may have had the most grand luxuries, but i wasn't afforded that. she never mentioned it, and i like to hope she never cared, that my tent was always bare except for what i'd been able to slip into my hands from someone else's things. i'd learned to be someone else because i had to, but never because it was something i wanted.

and yet here we were, in a new baldur's gate with truly. . . a new us. she looks ravishing in her red dress, the fabric flowing down her body and pooling on the floor. and i, in my freshly tailored doublet, matching her with threads of red. gods she is gorgeous. and tonight we can just dance and sing and play with our friends of old and friends of new. a goddess. my goddess.

" come, my love. " i reach out to grasp her hand in mine, eyes darting to the dance floor. " it certainly wouldn't be a celebration without us both out there. "

[the-replay]

ROSE T.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎–‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎THE D.OCTOR.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎✶ ࿐ ˚ . ˋ ♡‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎" YOU WON'T GET TIRED OF MY VOICE, WILL YOU? "

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎His parted lips and gaze over his glasses give a sort of dumbfounded look:‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎one of shock, which is a feeling he tries to bask in.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎It's a rare occurrence that things truly shock him in the mundane glow of the TARDIS light.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Admittedly, he still yearns for that sort of gasp when he leaves that blue door, steps out into the sunlight or moon's glow of another planet, and he can find it‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎––a bloodhound that can target any particular sense of adventure‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎(why would he ever want to stay still?).‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Yet @badwo1f's question is a shock to his system that renders the god, no, the time-lord voiceless, searching with a hesitant tongue to find the right answer to her question.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎No, is the shortest answer, the simplest one, but it doesn't even pass his mind as one that is viable to her, for her:‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎she deserves more than a single syllable, no?

" I think that's quite impossible, Rose Tylah'. "‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎His tongue pops on the last syllable, and a smile slinks over his features as if overtaken by some other force.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎It's difficult, near impossible, for him to not smile when he wants to:‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎lack of self control‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎(evident here and there, evident in the times ahead of them that he's unaware of).‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎" In fact! "‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎The stride he takes around to her side of the console is long, playful, joyous as he bumps her shoulder with his own.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎" I think I'd get tired of not hearin' it.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎D'ya know how quiet it can get in here without you?‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Oh it's terrible. "