#xproperlyclara

[xnovissimus]

xproperlyclara

      "Whatever you want, just spit it out.          I don't have time for games."

[pondishxamy]

impossiblewoman

xproperlyclara

Amy dropped the empty cup on the floor, cursing under her breath as it broke. Huffing through her nose, she picked it up quickly and threw a scarf around her neck. There was nothing better than a quick adventure with the Doctor while Rory was still at work and lunch was in the oven. A frown still played on her face as she skipped outside, seeing the TARDIS pop into view.          "I broke my favourite mug because of yo-" She started, but instead of the Doctor, there was a small brunette standing there, short enough that Amy thought she could lose her in a mall or something. Her frown only deepened as she moved closer.        "Who the hell are you and why did I see you                coming out from there?"

[twelvestrikesnow-archive-blog]

xproperlyclara

"Clara what did I tell you about - oh never mind, come on!"

[decayingtimelord]

always

xproperlyclara

She was many, many things to him, but not that. Yes, he'd looked through the memories, he always was an idiot that way. After all, the memories where were he could hide sometimes, even if he pretended to forget. He never moved on from things, not really, and because of that he'd never moved on from her. Funny that love had been - no, could have been one way for her to save him, even back then, and yet he sat here and refused to acknowledge her as that. Not one of his companions had ever been a lover for him, not a proper one, and he wouldn't let himself live with the fantasy that she could be.

There's a moment, then, one where he wants to go to her and demand her to tell him if she knows. She can't be allowed to know about who he used to be, she has to be stuck with the horror of him now and she can never be led on to believe he was ever anything more than a terrible god who's wrath would take the universe by storm.

Though wasn't it a nice thing to believe that she could be something more than the impossible girl? The answer was something he hoped he'd soon find out. They lay in bed together and he kept his hand stroking her hair. Of course he let her sleep with him, but he'd never thought about kissing her or loving her. Everything now was mathematics and emotions did not hold meaning to him. What did was ownership. He owned her. His Clara. His impossible girl. His, his, his. No one else's. And so maybe his memories were that of truth. She definitely could be another thing of possession. 

His wife. His first. The only one that ever mattered.

[themostfaithfulcompanion-blog]

+xproperlyclara

"What are you doing  here?"