the Old Girl has kept her here this long for a reason, she ought to help her with this one.
"I'd be honored to be considered."

Even though working here with him will break her already non working heart even more.

Something about the box makes her skin crawl, but Clara is rather distracted at the moment. She'll most likely turn her full attention to it...later.
"Clara Oswald." She amends, holding out a bit of psychic paper that she found one afternoon on the TARDIS.
"I can provide references of course."
If -

over in her attempt to contain every emotion that threatens to overwhelm her.
"I heard there was an opening for an assistant. I thought I might apply."

John.
A common enough name, but it's a name that he has used over and over.
It has to be him.
Swallowing hard, she forces what she believes to be a smile upon her face.
"Clara."
Oswald. Impossible Girl.
/Your Clara, your Clara/

"I really don't wish to be any trouble, yeah?"

The accent spills-

@the-wandering-one.bsky.social

Spotify decided my scribe needed to listen to this while she replied...

youtube.com/watch?v=WSxs...

Clara's eyes grow large with barely suppressed emotion. [Get them under control!]
"I can move."

She's been locked up in the TARDIS for months. She's been stuck here for a solid year, and near madness has finally driven her out, no matter how she has tried to resist.

own ears. No, hes not towering over here, lean and wiry, piercing her through with those keen gray eyes. Mad professor hair, wild and unkempt, making her fingers itch to touch.
Yet...
Is it? Him?
Has she traveled for so long in /his/ TARDIS that she simply /know/?

"Did I take your table?" -

Nothing that has happened to her can compare to this moment. Being trapped in the body of a Dalek is child's play. Her body and soul, ripped apart by the Time Winds, akin to a hug if set next to this. If asked, death by Raven was like stubbing her toe.
"Hello."
Her own voice sounds wrong in her -

She's run out of books to read on her ..
at her...

At home.

Well, that was too much to hope for.

She'll rephrase then.
He's hiding from something.

If only that were completely true.

Stop running, you Clever Boy...

"Love ιѕ alwayѕ wιѕe."

The Doctor otherwise known as John Smith.

~ 21+ #SmutlessRP
~ #DoctorWho

MV/SS with @enigmainaskirt.bsky.social

#Penned by #Scripturient

"You said memories become stories when we forget them. Maybe some of them become songs"...
Please sing a song for me again.

#DRWHORP
#MV/SS with
@the-wandering-one.bsky.social

We're going to hurt my Clara...

Anthony J. Crowley.

Fallen Angel, Demon, Proud plant dad.

🍷RP/21+ MS/MV Account

🔥 Good Omens, IWTV, Historical RP

🌿Crossovers and OCs welcome

🎩Writer is friendly!

😈Looking for SLs and always open for banter!

❤️ & RT!

//🤗

//Me. Everywhere.
All accounts.
Thanks to work.

"Are you now?"

She sees ...

a challenge.

knows it must happen.
It must happen, or he does not become who he was meant to become, and neither does Tony Stark, or King T'Challa. Events will not unfold as they are meant to in the future, and the world needs them to.

Everything within her screams to run with him straight down the alleyway. It screams to take him from here and now. Save him from the pain and terror.

Yet somehow, she pulls her collar closer and steps a little closer to his warmth as they step out into the night, and she doesn't run.
She -

She knows of a café that will at least take them til ten or eleven. After that, they can find somewhere to sit all night.
She isn't sure he can handle the TARDIS.

Her slight, slim fingers curl with his, and she feels her breath catching.

"Yes."

This place is too loud. It is too much.