a downward spiral, just a pirouette personal triggers
getting worse till there's nothing left. what good comes of something when i'm just the ghost of nothing?

i'm just the man on the balcony, singing 'nobody will ever remember me.' rejoice, rejoice, and fall to your knees.

lunatic of a god or a god of a lunatic? oh, their faces are dancing, they're dancing, till they can't stand it. composer but never composed, singing the symphonies of the overdosed.

independent rp blog for the master from doctor who. fc: gemma arterton. follows back selectively.

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"Did you miss me, darling? Of course you didn’t. You didn’t even notice I was gone,” the Master snapped bitterly, glaring daggers.

"Yeah, so fuck you,” she added.

driventohell:

{  And I’ve always lived like this  }

          Keeping a c o m f o r t a b l e distance.

        And up until now I have sworn to myself

                       That I’m content with :

                                       LONELINESS .

sorry i’ve been mia guys, but i read the percy jackson series, which reignited my love of greek and roman mythology, so i started a blog for methe, goddess of drunkenness.

if you’re wondering where I’ve buggered off to, it’s here. i started yet another damn blog. i know i shouldn’t have, but i did anyway, and it’s so fun. if you feel like getting free drinks off a goddess, come stop by.

Hey, everyone. The Master has been in a rut lately; I’ve had writer’s block with her and found myself going completely off track more often than not to the point where I feel I’m no longer playing the character properly. As such, I’ve started a blog for a more or less OC, Methe. She’s a minor Greek nymph-goddess with very few primary sources about her, so it will be almost impossible for me to screw her up. She is the daughter of Dionysus and the goddess of “intoxication, inebriation, and the dispensation of the tools needed to reach such a state”, as she puts it. I have exactly zero followers yet, and would really appreciate it if someone took a little interest in Methe.

So I got bored and made a new RP blog, because I feel that the Master is stagnating horribly lately. This is Methe, the Greek nymph-goddess of drunkenness. Come party with her; she’s got free alcohol and weed.

                                                all we’ve  ever               

                                                    r   e  a  l    l    y

                                                    wanted   is   a 

                                                    place   to   call

                                                    O        U         R

                                                H    O    M   E               

oldtimescratch:

[o] 

[o]: The caring bit is right but it seems as though the Master isn’t going to be all hugs and smooches this time around. How unfortunate. And here he thought he had a streak going on. What do you do when you can’t have something your way? Make people suffer, of course. Like a true adult.

[The Master takes a deep breath, holding it for several long moments before exhaling. It doesn’t work; it never works. So she does what she always does instead and reaches into her pockets, pulling out a small cardboard box. She taps some of the rattling contents out into her palm, and swallows them dry.]

You could have stopped ages ago, then. I’ve been just about as miserable as I’m likely to get for the past week and a half.

oldtimescratch:

[o]: Nothing but chuckles from this asshole.

[o]

[She opens her mouth, more threats ready to spill out of her mouth, but she stops just before she issues them. Rule one of not fucking one’s own plans up: don’t tell anyone what the plans are.]

Would you kindly just fuck off and stop trying to make me feel like shit? I can do that just fine without your help.

oldtimescratch:

[o]

[Wow, it’s like for a minute, she can actually hear her blood pressure going up as she resists the urge to get a sledgehammer and see if she can shatter his head into a thousand tiny pieces. He’s really going for the gold on saying precisely the things that she least likes to hear.]

You can take your pity, and you can shove it. I don’t want it and I don’t need it. And if you’re actively trying to frustrate me by parroting every condescending thing he ever said to me, congratulations, you’re succeeding, now stop before you regret it.

oldtimescratch:

[o]

Someone is entirely too pissed for hugs.

[She doesn’t sound entirely convinced of that fact, though, and tries really hard not to think about the past two weeks, in which she had no more than three conversations, approximately the same number of meals, and more sleep than she needed for the rest of her lives.]

oldtimescratch:

[o]

I spent hundreds of years clinging to life by the skin of my teeth, and now I’ve spent the last few hundred trying to let go, and I can’t. You have no idea what life has put me through - I don’t care if you’re omniscient; you didn’t feel it. And if you ever minimize the hell I have to live through ever again, I’ll do to you what I did to the last sorry bastard who said I was looking for attention. And you really don’t want to know what that is.

oldtimescratch:

[o]

Excuse me? I thought I just heard you say I was vying for attention, but I must have been mistaken.

oldtimescratch:

[o]

Is “minding your own business” an option? I am really not in the mood for this right now.