#; attached

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[ so it’s christmas eve where i am & i thought you’d get a kick out of clara’s christmas presents for clevvy

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[ --- ] [ --- ] [ --- ] Do you still have the receipts? I'm sure they'd make an excellent firestarter.

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❤

13. My muse and your muse switch bodies! Twist is, they can now access each other's memories.

[ - - - He glanced up at the other. ] I don't think I ever properly realised how short you were.

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“Inside your head”

Are you mine or his? [ He asked upon seeing her. Above them soared a dome, slick, straight-lined metal, completely contrasting with the wooden materials of the bookshelves around them. For one trapped inside his mind, he didn't seem too alarmed. Cautious, certainly, but not alarmed. He flourished here, after all, it was where he was programmed to thrive.

At least when he was capable of controlling it. Between the Doctor's lingering presence ( the very reason for his verbal question; he couldn't be completely certain who's memories this Clara had been drawn from ) and his own rampant emotions, the environment was less than stable, continuously flicking to a formless void backdrop with blue lights skittering along. ] 

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✄ (this is not going to go well)

Goodbye then.

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✔

Though she does make rather good entertainment.

[ And company. ]

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✖

Chipper. ... - iness.

And her habit of destroying the kitchen every time she steps inside.

Her inability to properly explain herself.

Her gifts.

--- And she makes my tea entirely wrong.

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☯ My muse can’t tell the reality apart from nightmare.

Clara, Clara, Clara, Clara, Clara. [ His hands wrapped around her wrists, holding her tightly. ] We have to go. We have to go, Clara.