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[ohshutup]

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text; shitposting before bed

[helpline]

What do American possums eat?

[ and because the Doctor KNOWS this is a dubious question, he follows that up with another question less than a minute after ]

Also, I don't think you've met the shop cat. His name's Bitey. Here he is.


[ Bitey has seen better days. ]

[ohshutup]

garbage, from the look of the one in my garden

[Dear heavens please don't let him have adopted a possum, dear heavens please don't-

Wait.]

!!!!!
WHAT A DARLING

actionish, hey i'm gonna make you sad

[helpline]

[ The Eleventh Doctor knew he was living on borrowed time here. He knew it from the reactions of others, he knew it from Sabriel's post, he knew it from Eobard talking about timelines. And he knew that eventually, things were going to be fixed, he'd puff out and Clara's other Doctor, the scary one with the eyebrows, the Doctor he should have been will pop right back in, leaving this Doctor to pop on back to his timeline...where he's dead.

It's not all that fair, of course. But time's wibbly wobbly and if he brought back Gallifrey in one universe, it's good enough for him. Still, it wasn't really nice of him to just pop out after meeting Clara again. He couldn't do that, it would be cruel, and he simply couldn't be cruel to Clara, bright-eyed Clara who he took on adventures then ended up fragmenting herself throughout time for him. So, he put together a little care package, wrapped up in a box, one that he left a note for the Twelfth Doctor saying, in bright red letters, 'Give to Clara! Don't peek!'

The Twelfth Doctor really couldn't bring himself to peek. After all, it's the least he could do for that Doctor. So, he leaves the package on Clara's doorstep, rings the doorbell, then simply leaves before she or someone else comes to the door. The package is a plain box just addressed to Clara. When Clara opens it, she'll find that there are two things inside. One, a bright red fez. Really, that right there ought to tell her who the package is from. But there's also a handwritten note, in handwriting that's distinctly the Eleventh Doctor's. ]

Run you clever girl. And be impossible.

I'M NOT CRYING YOU'RE CRYING

[ohshutup]

[Clara puts the note in her wallet, sets the fez in the middle of her bookshelf, and then has a good cry on her bed. They may be the same man, but part of her feels like she's said goodbye to one of her best friends, for the second and last time. For as many centuries as she lives, she'll never forget his smile, not for a single second.]

????

[magnitudes]

( and on the Seventh Day Sarissa almost texted Clara to apologise for accusing her of Ambiguous Violent Crimes...

And then frowned and decided no, Clara should apologise to her. Small tyrant. )

?!?!??!

[ohshutup]

[EW NO NOT A CHANCE]

voice;

[coppelganger]

[ God, Sarah really, really does not want to do this, but she also doesn't want this to be a Delphine situation, where she and Cosima's girlfriend just silently (or not so silently, on Sarah's part) resent each other. So. She calls. ]

Hey. It's Sarah... Cosima's sister... [ As if Clara's likely to forget that anytime soon. ]

[ohshutup]

[Clara has certainly not forgotten. Her voice is low and level.]

I was wondering if you'd ever speak to me again, after that bit.

video;

[helpline]

Captain Discretion here! Either Aerith or Saint Walker for healing, take your pick!

[ captain discretion yeah right ]

[ohshutup]

[Clara's got her hair wrapped around a curling iron, and she doesn't look amused by his nickname.]

I need pros and cons.

Backdated to the 1st.

[magnitudes]

Sarah's back,
dick

backdated to ur ass

[ohshutup]

thank you for informing me so kindly, miss theron
i'll bring by a fruit basket

text;

[fayzedandconfused]

[ This is the first time Clara's hearing from Brianna since the night she fought with Cosima—she's been staying in Heropa. ]

are you still mad at cosima?

[ohshutup]

[oh god oh god oh god how does she even explain this]

i'm so sorry brianna
it was really stupid of us to have it out like that where you could hear

[voice]

[timecapture]

[Aaaaaaand guess what? Small Time Sister has only just realized that, as usual, she's been shit at keeping in touch, so here she is, calling Clara, and just a little guilty about having been busy for so long.]

Hello, Clara? It's me, Max.

[permavoice]

[ohshutup]

[Clara is 110% cheerful when she picks up. There's the slight sound of wind blowing in the background.]

Hey, Max! What's up? How've you been?

text

[magnitudes]

a delicious snack.jpg

[ohshutup]

yeah but hunting them's the tricky part

text;

[doubleblind]

Jurassic Park or The Land Before Time? Pick the superior dinosaur movie.

[ohshutup]

jurassic park was okay
not great
never saw the other one

text.

[magnitudes]

oi
apparently if I invite Tiger to shit I gotta ask you too so

5th November, celebrating the tyranny of your homeland with fireworks and ritual sacrifices at the beach
Setting fire to things is traditionally superior to anything else Pommie but I'll take my opportunities where I can

( except that she was never told she had to invite Clara, and also it's secretly Sarissa's birthday but shh )

[ohshutup]

oh who are we sacrificing
either way you can count me in
it's been too long since i burned something

[magnitudes]

Paddington!

I met someone that travelled through time. Dunno if they're a time traveller or if they just had a weird thing happen like everyone else who wound up here, but I was gonna introduce you two if that's okay. Figured time weirdness empathy might be a thing. Idk maybe learn a secret handshake or something. If she comes to the firework thing is it cool if I point her your way?

uhhh comment about the UK being stupid vague snark sarcastic comeback significant incredulous pause etc etc

[ohshutup]

oh yeah that would be fine
i'll take her under my wing if need be

caustic retort about kangaroos and yeast paste

VERY EXCITED voice;

[fayzedandconfused]

Clara!

EQUALLY EXCITED

[ohshutup]

Brianna!

at 3am

[magnitudes]

is it fucked up to leave before someone wakes up

when you’re dating, I mean, not like a one off

( wait hang on why is it displaying her last conversation with Cla—arysfgjklsdsvjsfv

SOUL SCEAMING OH GOD MISFIRE MISFIRE )

ignore that, you and Cosima are next to each other in my phone

bless

[ohshutup]

[Oh, Dundee.

;) ]

i don't believe there's anything wrong
if you're dating then likely there's a degree of understanding
they should know you don't mean anything by it
unless of course
you do mean something by it
who are you dating, again?

[magnitudes]

Clara
I'm kind of not okay
stating the obvious i know

I mean that I'm not controlling myself at all and I tried or I know I'm doing or saying really fucked up stuff but trying not to do it is like trying to put your hand through a mirror to stop it from mimicking you, you know? Or like I'm realising something is fucked up when I've already done it?

I messed up really bad with Sarah. And I was shitty to Cosima. I think I'm just lashing out at all the people I love because I can't get my head around anything and it's awful, I'm being awful and I don't know how to stop and that's such a bullshit thing to say but it's like there's this whole monster under my skin and I can't just rip it out

I'm staying with a mate for a few days. I'm okay. It's Cosima's old neighbour, if you guys need to get hold of me. I think I'm gonna turn off my device for a while, I just wanted to make sure you know and they know I'm not disappearing or ported out or something. I don't think they'd want to hear from me just now, is all.

Sorry I keep being a wrecking ball. Also sorry if I get Miley Cyrus stuck in your head. Better than most Christmas jingles, though, right?

CHRISTMAS DELIVERY.

[magnitudes]

Clara will find herself the happy recipient (she gets no choice btw, she will enjoy it) of;

a knit cropped sweater - and just because there is no label doesn't mean sarissa knitted it herself okay B( but be sure to hand wash it!!! perhaps it is just a shade suspicious that in place of a care label, there is a patch sewn in, but whatever, clara's imagining it

AND also a set of black and white photo frames, with a side note that she has an idea for some of them stuck to the back of one of the frames with a post-it.

Letter!

[baetiful]

[ Perhaps it's a bit old-fashioned, but the message arrives for Clara via mockingbird. Sealed closed by a wax mockingbird sigil, the letter is hand-written in careful cursive. ]

Dear, Miss Oswald -

We have not spoken before, but my name is Petyr Baelish. I serve as the ambassador for Maurtia Falls. I write to you on behalf of a project I am working on within my city. Construction has already begun on rebuilding a much larger library, but I wish for this to be more than simply a bigger structure. I hope to inspire education and the spread of knowledge to the natives of Maurtia Falls as well as provide an invaluable resource to new arrivals here. But more than that, I wish to use it to pay homage to the natives who lost their lives within Maurtia Falls due to imPort related tragedies. Their names will be honored within the library itself and donations will be set up to be made to the families.

For this project to succeed, I need your help. If you are able to donate anything at all to the cause, it would be most appreciated -- whether that is books, money, or simply your time. I plan to put programs into place once the library is finished to have imPorts come in and read to the much younger generation. I believe it would be a great way to strengthen the native and imPort bond.

I thank you for your time, and I do hope to hear back from you soon.

Sincerely,
Ambassador Petyr Baelish


[ OOC: You can feel free to just respond to this OOCly if she would donate anything or not! ]

letter; dated 5/14

[timecapture]

[The letter arrives the day after Max is ported out. Call it magic.]

Dear Clara,
If you're getting this, it means I've gone home. And I didn't want to go without saying goodbye. I know you wanted to take me in your TARDIS someday, and don't worry, I'm going to hold you to that. So we'll just consider this goodbye for now, okay?

I'm really glad I met you. You were really sweet and helpful when I got freaked out over Crane messing with me, and I don't know if I could have gotten through being stuck in a Russian submarine without you. I don't think I could have gotten through a lot of things without you, actually. Thank you.

I'm sorry to go. There's a lot more I wanted to do here. But I want you to know that I'm still grateful for it. All of it. Even the sucky parts. If I hadn't come here, I never would have met you. That would have sucked.

I really think of you as a big sister. I love you, Clara. Thank you for everything. And come pick me up October 19, 2013. Okay?

Love,
Max

[Included with the letter is a bunch of photographs of Max and Clara having fun together, getting into mischief.]

[ohshutup]

[magnitudes]

Cooking tips with Sarissa:

Try not to go overboard with cheese when you make pasta. Sure, it's delicious, but too much can be a bit grating.

[ohshutup]

[A long, intimidating, judgmental silence. Then, ]

how dairy you

text;

[doubleblind]

Are you home right now?

[ohshutup]

[Well that doesn't sound great.]

yeah, what's up?

slight...ly backdated

[spacerhyme]

[ One morning, a few weeks after she'd given him his guitar, there's a package waiting outside her front door. On the top, written in Sharpie in a familiar hand, it says only "Clara Oswald — Christmas '15."

Inside, under a layer of silly rock 'n' roll wrapping paper, she'll find one (1) thick hardcover book, plain cover, titled, TIME TRAVELLER'S GUIDE TO THE UNIVERSE.

The first few pages, a table of contents several hundred items strong, are handwritten. The entire thing, in fact, is handwritten. She'll quickly discover it is indeed a custom guidebook, the aforementioned hundreds of entries covering planets and star systems and cities and theme parks and space liners and everything in-between, across all of time and space. From Paris, to Space Paris, to Cheem, to the theme park planet Asgard, to even E-Space. Some are as short as single sentences, some ramble on for pages, but all of them are scatterbrained; if the original intent hadn't been to editorialize, the author's failed at that completely. All potentially true and relevant information is tangled up with irrelevant tangents and awful jokes and ridiculous anecdotes— a number of which will be very, very familiar to her indeed. And nearly every other page is illustrated with frenetic yet detailed doodles in pen and watercolor as well, the artist never bothering to correct the occasional blot of spilt ink or wonky line. They range from scientific in their accuracy, to inexplicable (why's the illustration for London got a dinosaur in it?)

There's no doubt this was all written for an audience of one.

(And yes, he has included some planets that happen to be ruled by spongiform battle-fleets, exercise caution.)

On the very last two pages is one final illustration, some time clearly spent on this one. It's deep space, a backdrop of the darkest blue and purples, through which stretches the cloudy, multi-hued form of a nebula. Countless white dots freckle panorama, splattered across it with a deliberate sort of chaos. And in this space floats a small, familiar blue box, its doors facing front and one swung open, interior lit with that warm orange glow. There are no figures present, nothing else is written or defined... It's been left open, as it were.

There you go. They'd said it couldn't be done, so he went and wrote her a book. ]

[ohshutup]

[BRB CRYING FOR DAYS

BOTH OOC AND IC

IT'S BEAUTIFUL]