Reblog or Like if you would actually buy (with real money) a charity anthology of short stories based on the adventures of Clara and Ashildr post Hell Bent. 

I'm considering pitching an idea, and want to gauge how much interest there would be. Remember the question is would you part with hard earned cash?

12 and 11 cross paths. Daleks. Universe-ending stakes. Cataclysm event. 12 and 11 working seamlessly together and arguing the whole time. But :

11: It’s no use ! It’s not enough ! Not enough time !

That’s when 12 hears it. The noise. The wheezing, groaning. The noise that brings hope to the universe.

12, smiling : Oh I think we’ll manage.

The Daleks are issuing emergency orders. Retreating.

11: Wh-why are they doing that ? They’re winning !

12: Because they’ve just worked it out. This time there’s three of us.

[cue the music]

They turn, fully expecting another blue police box .....but it isn’t. Instead, it’s an American diner- petrol pumps and all, materializing before their very eyes. 11 looks like he’s about to have a stroke. 12 ? The look on his face.

It is a post Hell Bent / Thors fiction. 

This should be a one-shot, but then, it has been lying in my computer for too long now, so...

It will have another chapter, probably not that long.

As always, send me your thoughts!

He is not used to good things lasting in his life. Everything that is good always seems to end far too quickly for someone who has lived as long as he has. There is also this thing that most of the time the Universe seems always to want prices too high for any amount of happiness it gives to him.

So he knows that this, this emptiness and this dull ache in his hearts, can only mean that he is once more paying for something that must’ve been genuinely good. And he can’t even remember why or how or who.

There is a name. It’s almost everything he has. Clara Oswald.

The words curls in his tongue like a sacred promise, a forbidden incantation and it is one of the few things that remains of the past that doesn’t seem to belong to him. It bypasses the neural block. Endures. Like some of the fragmented memories of all the adventures that they had lived together, bits that emerge from time to time, fighting their way among the cracks to get free, to keep her alive somewhere inside of him.

Sometimes, there is something else that tries very hard to last, like the faint memories of a dream you can almost grasp in the very moment you wake up but that fade away in the second you open your eyes.

When something goes missing, you can always recreate it by the hole it leaves. And the space of her absence seems to want to consume him. That is how he knows that she had been someone important in his life.

saiibra:

 It was a boring afternoon, where there was nothing to be done - or rather, nothing Saibra wanted to do -  when she heard it. It might have been years since she had last heard that sound, but it was unmistakable - that whooping, wheezing, groaning sound. She almost jumped out of bed and opened the window only to see - yes! - a blue box right in front of her door and the grey hair of the man who had changed her life popping out of it.

She rushed into proper clothes and out of the door and met him halfway there. “Hello, Doctor,” she beamed a bright smile at him and wrapped her arms around him in a loose hug. “I’ve missed you.”

It have been years, indeed, since the events at the Bank of Karabraxos. The Doctor didn't really want to interfere very much with his ex-partners-in-crime's lives, so he have just been travelling far away from them for some time. But then something happened and in a way he felt that he should visit anyone and Saibra, well... she was a better choice than Psi, at least for now and because of the Doctor's own reasons.

He wasn't far from her door when Saibra showed up and hugged him. "Hello, Sai-" His first reaction would be to get away from her, saying something like 'I'm against the hugging' if not for his still a bit confused state. The Doctor only let her hug him for a moment, then tried to get his untouched personal space back. "Still not with my face? I'm a bit disappointed." Yes, that was his way of saying that he missed her too.