Mar 9, 2022
im so lonely, broken angel
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im so lonely, broken angel
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not sure if i uploaded or not but this was my cosplay at animethon :D
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Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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it was my birthday yesterday. im sixteen
Kings (and Queens) of Infinite Space || Clara and John S.
To say that the TARDIS was a bit of a mess would be akin to saying that the Pocket was a little unusual. As a general rule of thumb, it easier to destroy something than it was to fix it, and John was currently rediscovering that the hard way.
It wasnβt so much that the TARDIS had been trashed - although there had certainly been quite a lot of damage to the console initially. That sort of physical damage was easily fixed, and the TARDIS was more than capable of repairing it herself, even if she sometimes chose not to. No, the problem was that the Doctor had rearranged her insides, and had seemingly done so with the express intent of making sure that the rearrangement was as chaotic and irreversible as possible.Β
John hadnβt been kidding when he said that the TARDISβ bigger-on-the-side was leaking - although that was a rather inadequate word to describe what was presently going on. The problem - very generally speaking - was that the Doctor had literally contorted the TARDISβ internal dimensions into dimensions that were even more impossible than what the ship was capable of - and that was saying a lot. Overlapping time streams, unclosed time loops, time and space folding and warping back on itself in ways that it had never been meant to do, all resulting in chaos like duplicating rooms, spaces were at once infinite and pinpoint, eternally looping corridors that one could get stuck in if not careful... no wonder the old girl was in pain.Β
Fortunately, most of the worst of it was confined to the very core of the TARDIS, leaving key areas stable. The console room, barricaded by its usual safety protocols, was largely untouchable. The butterfly room, which the Doctor had callously ripped out of its location in the fabric of space-time and planted haphazardly between the console room and the pantry, was fine - the gaping hole left behind, less so. John wondered if the Doctor had even been aware of what heβd done to the TARDIS.
The problem was, John wasnβt at all sure he could fix this. It certainly wasnβt a matter of a quick patch - and he feared that with the Pocket apparently getting in on the dimensional transcendency game, that he could accidentally rip a hole in the side of the boat if he tried too hard. Heβd settled into methodically trying to unravel the mess, but it was akin to trying to undo a massive knot in a ball of string.Β
When his stomach reminded him that heβd forgotten to eat again, he sighed and decided to check on Clara, frowning when he realised that hours had passed with no sign of her. He sincerely hoped that she hadnβt gotten lost somewhere in the shifting interior of the boat, although that was entirely possible. Dialling the number of her mobile, he stepped out of the TARDIS, squinting into the gloom in hopes of catching sight of the errant companion.Β βCome on, pick up,β he muttered, somewhat impatiently.Β