“Get the hell out. I’m the Head Mouseketeer?”
He looks … diabolically delighted by this.
WHOS THE LEADER OF THE CLUB THATS MADE FOR YOU AND ME? M A S T E R ( nothing has the same letter count as mouse oops but enjoy )
Tag: Anonymous
I do think your reason for muse rp choice is touching. At the same time, you don’t need a reason for rping a muse, regardless of their gender, race, etc. It’s still a unique approach behind rping them nonetheless.
// :’) thank you <33333
“Daddy!!” A little girl with straw colored hair and a bright round face toddled into the console room with a stuffed dragon tucked under one arm. “Daddy! Daddy! Mummy said we could go see Per-perax-p– Oh, Poo! Mummy said we could go see a planet with REAL dragons! Can we, please. Please PLEASE???”
Send Koschei stuff from his kids.
“Hey, flower.”
The Master stops scanning the dashboard the moment his doted daughter enters. He squats and props her on a thigh, licking a finger and tidying her hair. Ferocious and formidable, he’s little more than a gentle giant with his tiny Zinnia.
“Well, sure,” he chimes, as if he’d say no to anything ranging from “I want a pony” to “I want a constellation.” “But! You’ve gotta promise me something: you’ll stay with mummy and me. And you won’t do anything we say it’s unsafe to do. Cause daddy loves you more than anything. Two hearts,” and he places her little hands over each heart, with a refrain that’s clearly familiar, “both of them yours.”
“Daddy? What are you building? Can I help? Please???”
Send Koschei stuff from his kids.
The Master puts up his welding goggles. He grins puckishly.
“Maybe, love. May.” He taps the child’s nose. “Be.”
He lifts the little one into one arm, and carries them to the workbench away from all hot, corrosive, and electrical substances. A peck on the forehead and he places them beside a maze of different colored wires.
“Can you twist the red around the blue? All of them, mind, like this.”
Not actually from one of Koschei’s kids, but… I would love some fatherly TLC if the muse is up for it; my dad passed away nine years ago from complications due to colon cancer. I still miss him, a lot. It’s getting easier to live without him, but there’s still all these things he’s missing out on. I often wish he was still here; he always told me to do my best and to never give up. I’m 27 now, and I hope that where he is, my dad is proud of me.
Send Koschei stuff from his kids.
The Master blanches at the gravity of the request. The nape of his neck grows sticky and hot. He who is fearless is now stunned by his own anxiety.
“I’m. Uh. Oh lord. I’m rubbish at this. You’ll want to ask my best friend for this kind of thing, but I. Er.”
But she’s not here right now.
Ask him to calibrate an infinitely complex alien technology, he’s golden. Ask him to hack a global bank, he’ll do it in under sixty seconds. Ask him to run a successful political campaign to be legitimately elected chief seat of a major world power, give him a year and a half, tops. Ask him to build a gun from leaves, a cinch. A robot from toothpicks, sure.
For gentle words of sympathy, not geared at emotional or psychological manipulation? He’s screwed.
Still. Still . . . it’d be nice not to be the slave of one single definition of who he is, or could be. Wouldn’t it?
He sinks to sitting beside you. That’s the first step. Get on the level of the wounded. Right?
He takes your hand, cautiously, making sure he’s not exacting force.
“I don’t know you, and I didn’t know your dad. So I dunno what I can say that won’t sound like empty consolation. But. But to have a child who remembers him with such eloquence and love … both your innate faculties and the comportment you’ve learned to guide you … those speak well of him, and of what pride he’d have in you were he here now.”
He musters a smile that he hopes is comforting. His own face is young and innocent, no matter the wrinkles or silver hairs. There’s an odd sort of comfort in that alone, in the way this Master is changelessly a brash little boy.
“And if you want. I can try to barbecue on the roof of my TARDIS. And not give in to the urge to burn something down. Or fix something you broke. Or … tell terrible corny jokes. Swap blood with you so we can briefly share DNA? No, that’s … that’s rather macabre. Perhaps I’m past due to shut up now.”
He pats your hand.
“You can call me dad if you like. I’m also surprisingly good at hugs. Just don’t stab me in the back with a concealed blade … ! Or, you know. shoot me or. Generally do something to try and assassinate me. Bring it in … ! There we go.”
orla’s hands are covered in paint. pink and purple paint, to be exact. and as soon as she sees her father’s stark white shirt, she gets the biggest grin on her face that matches her mother’s when she is about to start mischief, and she holds up her hands. she’s trying to be threatening, but she just looks like the world’s tiniest peacock showing its feathers. //im on the Wrong Blog but here u go.
Send Koschei stuff from his kids.
The Master puckers his lips at his daughter from across the room. He stalks over, and snatches her up.
“Ohhhh, c’mere, you little MONSTER. Daddy’s shirt is yours for the sacrificing.”
He dangles her upside down and blows raspberries into her belly button. Then he hoists her upright and makes vaguely threatening fish-lips at her face, certain that he’s about to get peacock-hued war paint on his own cheeks.
I’m pretty sure I’m not your kid, but honestly I have no idea who my dad is. Means I’ve never done Father’s Day… I dunno. I can give you a tie if you want one.
Send Koschei stuff from his kids.
The Master rears upright at the sound of this deeply personal admission. He quirks his lip. He cocks his head.
And then he smiles, beatifically, in such a way you’d never imagine he was wickedness incarnate.
“That’s alright!” he joyously booms. “After all, I’m sure I’m a better dad than he was! C’mere!”
He slings an arm round the unknown’s shoulders and pats companionably.
the doctor talking about how costco can’t kill, throwing his device on the ground and stamping on it and nearly getting strangled to prove it. I loved that moment and also feel like it was totally a master-esque move
It was a VERY master-esque move, although my muse was raging with his face pressed against the screen at the entire moment, lol. He protec!
Oh, the Woman That Fell to Earth? ._.
// ._____. Gracie’s death seemed very unnecessary to me. That was what bothered me so much. I feel like women of color already die way too much in Western media….
I wanna hear what you didn’t like about the episode. It’d be interesting to hear it from you. I mean, I don’t hear a lot of critiques about it since it’s pretty good, but you know.
//Which episode, friend? :O ❤
Icarus 