I just watch Asylum of the Daleks. My emotions are f-ed. I'm crying for Oswin, laughing at the Dalek supreme, happy for Amy and Rory, and crying because of Oswin, did I mention that? I'm not actually crying, I only tear up if I'm mad, but I'm certainly dry sobbing.
One. Word.
Moffat.
Onto the story? I think so.
REMINDER: This is my world where things happen differently than the show. Also, watch the show before reading.
P.S. I own nothing, except for what I make up. I don't own Clara, the Doctor, or any Doctor who monsters, older companions, the TARDIS, ectra. It's just some harmless writing.
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The Doctor whirled around his controls, feverishly pressing buttons, making sure he would land in the proper time and spot. Once Sexy (or the TARDIS) had finished materializing he stepped out. Souffle girl wasn't out yet, he had come about a half hour earlier. He waited, sitting on a small chair he carried out of the TARDIS. The lights were on in the house so he knew that Clara would be out sometime soon.
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Clara had been eagerly packing. She was excited for chinboy to take her to see the universe. When she finished a child rushed in.
"You're right. Eleven is the saddest!"
"Told you. Ten may have been sad, but Eleven is sadder."
"What about Twelve?"
"As my teacher says, spoilers."
"Awe come one, a hint?"
"They meet an eccentric ginger who whisks them off." She replied. "Now go to bed, you have school tomorrow."
"But Clara" He whined
"No buts."
The young boy went to his room and read Eleven again. When he finally fell asleep his mind was colored with dreams of dangerous adventures, scary villains, and a raggedy man who saved the day.
Clara had checked once again that she had everything she thought she would need. Diary, yehp, clothes, yehp, computer, yehp. She looked at the clock once again, 7:00. She walked down the stairs trying to seem calm in case anyone noticed her leaving. She opened the door slowly and saw the Doctor fiddling with a small robot.
"Into technology chinboy?" She asked walking out
"What's wrong with my chin?" He jutted it out just like he had at the asylum.
"Careful, don't want to poke any-ones eyes out."
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And I end it here. Whatever shall they do, where shall they go? Will Clara ever remember her past self? Muahahahaha, I don't know. I'm also really tired so, you know, I'm just gonna go to bed and dream up the next chapter. :P.
Bowties and scarves,
-Andy
