Jenny The-Not-Green-One Flint appreciation gifset.
Notice how she doesn’t want Vastra to share air with her at first, because she’s afraid there wouldn’t be enough for the both of them.
He has a feeling he’s going to seriously regret this.
The Doctor stretches his arm as far as it’ll go — and
flips a switch on the console. The TARDIS gives a
terrifying lurch, the central column making a horrible
”Clara,” he says after a moment,
deadpanned, “we’re crashin’.”
It has his DESIRED effect as she is quick
to release him from her embrace. Her foot stumbles back
as the floor shakes. Her hands are on either side of her,
as if trying to keep BALANCE. Lips parted, eyes wide —
she takes special care to not TOUCH anything. Fingers
find her other hand’s palm, nails grazing against skin in
an ANXIOUS fashion.
❝ —— Please tell me you’re actually just joking. ❞
Gold had only just begun streaming through the small cracks in the shades
when he gently pulled open the door to the apartment, praying that the hinges
wouldn’t betray his secrecy by squeaking or squealing. What sort of man would
the door hinges have taken him to be if they decided to scream aloud the fact
that he was leaving, if only for an hour ?Bucky had every intention of coming
back, but his purpose outside of these walls was one he had wanted to keep
as a surprise.
Now that they had settled down just enough to be able to handle this sort of thing,
he’d figured that it was time to have responsibility for something more than just
their own relationship. And that something would be in the form of a rather tiny
puppy that he holds carefully and primarily with his right hand, though his left
hovers nearby as extra precaution, so as to ensure that he doesn’t fall from the
great height of his hands to the ground. The animal squirms just a little, the fur
brushing against his palm as he does so. It’s a bit of a struggle to balance the
pup as he fishes the key to the apartment out of his pocket, but he manages,
and the door has evidently picked up on his good intentions as it remains faithful
and silent to him once more. The lock is turned cautiously and shoes slide off his
feet with dull thuds onto the ground. He pads over to the bedroom where Clara
is, so far as he knows, still asleep.
Her back is to the entrance of the room, and steps are taken slowly to ensure that
the floorboards don’t creak under his weight. The ground is a little less staunch,
as it shifts here and there, but the noises are barely a whisper. He continues to
almost tiptoe to the edge of the bed, where he lifts the puppy over her body and
places it before her face, the sun bleeding through blinds glimmering on a dark
coat. The puppy’s rather stumpy tail wags back and forth as it stumbles forward
with a single front limb to accompany the two in the back and it licks at her face.
The sight of this sign of affection is enough to make a grin spread across his own
lips, and while it might not be the most desired way to possibly wake her up, he
honestly believes she’ll like the little guy.
Dreams are the privilege of children
and hers used to soar. The daughter of a STORYTELLER and a
SAVIOUR: there is nothing else can be but the heroine of the
greatest ( dare she say, the most important ) story every told;
how could she dream of being anything else ? So many stories
have been FORGOTTEN, so many stories have faded away
from memory and they are left to hearsay until the last day their
names are breathed upon the lips of someone else long after
they have passed, like a PROMISE made to be
WHAT HAPPENS NOW ? What happens now that the girl
has long since grown up, with one too many happily NEVER
afters and not enough time to sleep ? What happens when her
name tastes like a stranger’s on her tongue ? What happens
when bright brown eyes,
O N C E wide and shining, turn half
lidded at every question posed ? What happens to little girls
who grow up without their mothers ? What happens to STARS
when there is no one to look and see them ? What happens to
the girl who used to see the sky in all its technicolour possibility
but can now only see in different shades of the DARK ?
Questions arise at every corner and there are one too many
VOICES that yell out different truths that she does not know what
she believes in. Even after the
treatments, even after she has
been deemed as RECOVERED as she can possibly get, she
feels a farce of everything she was. A TRAVESTY of what Clara
Oswald is supposed to be; a
MOCKERY of the heroine she was
once. Sleep allows escape if they might be so kind so as to allow
SILENCE. Dreams are the privilege of children; hers only now
came in the form of memories, some of them not her own, and
some of them imagined. All of them meant to keep anyone up.
She lays her head against the pillow now,
lips parted and moisture dripping through ( though unbeknownst
to her ) as she sleeps. Brown eyes are hidden, still, behind closed
eyelids. It is QUIET as she sleeps; there is a faint snore that
comes with her every breath.
Sleep is as kind as it can be as she lays DREAMLESS.
If in a state of being awake, she is as poised as regal and aware
as a ROYAL. When awake, her toes always curl in slightly just to
get the feel of
something sturdy beneath her. Now, she is a three
dimensional CHALK OUTLINE, a reminder of a tragedy that
once happened. How apt that there is only the ghost of the light
that once was in amber coloured irises. In this state of slumber,
she is a PARODY of put together limbs, haphazardly thrown
about in a bed altogether too large for one normal sized person,
let alone JUST HER. Her soft brown hair is in an alarming state
of tangled disarray. On the bedside table rest a now rather
disgustingly cool cup of tea, embedded with herbal ( only
NATURAL ) soporifics that are often used just to be able to lull
her to this state of deep and dreamless SLEEP.
The barely there weight of the pup is not noticed for she
is too far gone in SLUMBER. It is the licking that disturbs her,
flashes of red light ( warmth reflected by closed eyelids ), and
causes her to stir. It comes slowly as the dewy tip of the pup’s
nose nudges her cheek and its tongue flicks at her nose. It barks,
a tiny little high pitched sound ( almost a SQUEAK ), and it is then
that eyelids open. The picture before her is a blur and these are
not the eyes she’s known to wake up to, come to EXPECT, at
first light. The pup jumps excitedly and barks again at her having
opened her eyes, possibly now thinking that the barking will get
her to do more things. It blurs into focus as she continues to
blink herself into some coherent state of CONSCIOUSNESS.
Clara sits up and the pup follows suit, limping as it does
so, and places itself on her lap. She moves to wipe the slobber
from her cheek by the shoulder ( and of that, the pup was not
entirely to blame ). Its antics make the grin break through her lips
like sun breaks through EGGSHELL TWILIGHT. Her hands move
to cradle the animal. It is warm in her hold and she can feel its
frantic breathing, its constant vibration as its tongue PANTS, the
bones of its ribcage prominent to the touch and its tiny fluttering
It twists in her embrace and places its single paw
on her collarbone, looking up at her with eyes that RIVALED hers
in their state of WIDENESS. She has a hand cradling the back of
its head, scratching its ear. It licks her neck; she laughs. The
stubby tail wags about HAPPILY. It is now that she looks to the
man standing before her, TOWERING
sheepishly and smiling,
that she looks to answers now. As she has been doing for a little
while now. Lips parted and eyes wide in a mixture of confusion
and DELIGHT, she looks to him.
❝ Bucky, what’s going on ? ❞
’ This is you, Clara. Everything you were or will be. Take it.
YOU BLEW INTO THE WORLD ON THIS LEAF.
Hold tight. It will take you home. ‘
❝ you cutiepie, you !
goodness, you’re lovely. ❞
————— ❝ and life was dull without
a little spark of clara oswald. ❞
❝ 'Course it was. Where’ve you been anyway ? ❞
G u y s, I’ve had this blog just over six months now and I’m honestly astounded and speechless at just how many followers I now have. A lot of which followed me right at the beginning when my adventure had just re-started, and the rest have followed along in that journey!
I honestly can’t say thank you enough, I’m so thankful of how supportive and amazing you guys have been, especially through the hiatus’s and bad days. You’re all so great and wonderful and little balls of sunshine just waiting to glow and I honestly feel so grateful to have so many of you stuck by me!
If you’re not on here, please don’t take offence. It doesn’t mean I don’t love or enjoy rping with you, it just means that I’m highly scatter brained & I enjoy seeing each and every one of you on my dash.
❝ two weeks —— wait,
or has it been three ? ❞
————— ❝ not like anyone’s counting. ❞
❝ but i missed you. ❞
❝ —— hi ❞
indie reboot james t. kirk rp blog
7+ years of roleplay experience
mun is 21+
and also a big dork
open to any and all fandoms
a selective and multi-ship blog
written lovingly by tiberius
ooc. OH BABU GOSH. izzy’s remarkably easy to think well of tbh, it’s kind of unfair. she’s gifted and inspiring and kind. i’ve been through some dark days and i remember her getting me through that out of the goodness of her heart. people can be kind when you let them in and when you believe the best in them, people can exceed your every expectations. i know izzy. not as well as i would like but i know her well enough to be able to say things about her with confidence. and what i’m saying is
i’m certain you’re wonderful and lovely in all the most perfect and glorious of ways that make you you, dearest anon. and i’m sure you’re also flawed and that you’ve made mistakes, as humans all tend to do. but there is kindness in you, there is infinite potential. and if you want someone to see you in the light, all you have to do is give people the time to look and see. it’s an equitable back and forth relationship and i’m a firm believer in treating others the way you want to be treated. see others the way you want to be seen. i hope you have a good day, sugarplum! <3 x