A/N: The prompt for this one revolved around Twelve getting turned into a stuffed animal and I just kinda rolled with it because why not.

2327 words; this is kind of like an AU since the premise involves a lot more straight-up magic than this extremely goofy soft scifi tends to give us; this also reminds me of the tiny!Twelve theory that a lot of us had before Flatline aired (Clara needed a purse-sized Twelve and I do not take criticism on that), as well as my tiny!Twelve doll that still goes nearly everywhere with me; I've stared at this so much I'm going crosseyed so there might be changes later there might not but I think it might be done so here it is

Stuffed!

It was a completely average Wednesday, with Clara whiling around the time before the Doctor showed up. She dodged questions from the children about when he was returning, insinuations regarding Date Night from her coworkers, and the smirks from the clerks at the shop when she bought a bag of jelly babies "for her jelly baby", as the Doctor had been labeled after a particularly insistent visit regarding the sweets. Dinner made and eaten, marking done, clutter cleared, and still no Doctor. It was a curious thing, though she didn't think much of it. All she did was sit down on the couch and watch a bit of telly, seeing if anything caught her eye in the meantime.

With nothing being of any use to her, Clara decided she was simply going to get ready for bed. How many times had he disturbed her in the bath, or while she was changing, only to sweep her up into an adventure? Enough times to warrant her to continue to go about her evening. She stepped into her bedroom to collect her pajamas, only to jump in surprise; the TARDIS was already there.

"What are you doing here…?" she mused aloud. If the TARDIS was there, then that usually meant the Doctor was already out and wandering around the flat, making sure she hurried up so that they could go see wonders. He was still nowhere to be found, so she poked her head inside. The console room was devoid of the Time Lord, which was also highly suspect.

"Clara! I'm here!"

She glanced around—he wasn't there. Closing the door, Clara looked at her bedroom… nothing.

"Clara!"

His voice sounded smaller somehow. She scrunched her nose as she made sure he wasn't on the floor—still nothing.

"On your bed!"

Clara jumped as she saw something move amongst the pillows and unfolded laundry that had gathered on her bed in the spot usually occupied by the Doctor. She took a heavy book and armed herself, ready to beat something if need be.

"Clara! It's just me!"

A pillow shifted and she smacked the fluffy item, setting her attack to stun. The pillow made an unpleasant, vaguely Scottish noise and out from the pile stumbled a stuffed doll… one that looked disturbingly like the Doctor.

"I told you!" the doll scowled. It was able to move on its own and the paint lines of its mouth shifted as it spoke. "It's me, Clara. I'm the Doctor."

"…but… you're…" She put down the book and poked him gently. "How is this even possible?"

"That's what I'd like to find out," he groused. The stitching that was his eyebrows furrowed crossly. "I need your help—it was all I could do to get the TARDIS to come here. With my body like this, completely outside of normal regeneration protocols, I can't pilot like I normally can, nor do anything like normal."

"…so you need me in order to figure everything out," she surmised. The doll nodded.

"At least I know you're capable of the task," he said. "Now let's get going to Lufthansa—I found a planet that was actually named that and it has nothing to do with Germans nor airplanes…"

"No," Clara decided firmly. Admittedly, it was not the oddest thing that she had been presented with on a Wednesday night, nor did she think that it was honestly the worst he could do. The Doctor Doll looked at her with an almost wounded expression. "We're going to figure out what's wrong with you first. Lufthansa the Planet wasn't where you found yourself like this, right…?"

"Correct."

"Then we're going to figure this out first before we take on any more planets," she insisted. "Just stay here, okay? I'm going to take a shower."

"For wanting to figure it out, you don't exactly seem very concerned about my present condition!"

"...and knowing the sort of trouble you get into, it's either we are in imminent danger, or we can at least get a shower and sleep in." Clara gathered her clothes again and went into the bathroom, washing the rest of the day off and pulling on her pajamas. She returned to her room to find that the Doctor Doll was trapped between the folds of her duvet, his body too light to unstick himself, dangling by his tiny foot.

"Clara! This is cruel!" he grumbled. She smirked and plucked him from the blanket before settling into the bedding herself. "We can't go to sleep!"

"Yes, we can." She yawned deeply—the shower brought more tiredness up to the forefront than she expected. "There's not a Dalek in the sitting room getting ready to blast this place to bits—we're fine." She curled up underneath the blankets and laid down, keeping the grouchy doll within her grasp. "We'll see what's going on later."

"Clara! I—!"

The Doctor Doll was cut off by Clara cuddling him close into her chest. His protests were muffled and his cloth arms were unable to put up any resistance to hers. He eventually gave up when he realized that she had fallen promptly asleep; there went the shock value making the entire situation be a bit more urgent.

"I don't know about this," the Doctor Doll said. It was now morning and he was standing on the kitchen counter, watching Clara pack her lunch together. "Shouldn't we get going now?"

"We could, but I think it will be safer to start on Friday evening," she replied. "We might have a time machine, but there's still the time I need to take here before we actually plot a course. Plopping two TARDISes in my flat at once due to temporal overlap might do a number on the vortex."

He raised a nubbin-hand and went to speak, only to stop short and fall silent. After pondering, he said, "...and what are we going to do in the meantime?"

"Well, I was thinking I could drop you off at UNIT for the time being, allow them to observe you for the next two days."

"I respect Stewart and Osgood, and I'd rather keep respecting them," the Doctor Doll stated. "I'll simply stay here."

"Wrong; you're coming with me," Clara said. She closed her lunch sack and took it—and the Doctor Doll—with her to the table where she fit them both in her bag.

"…but the TARDIS!"

"…can protect herself if need be," she said. "You, on the other hand, barely have enough strength right now to lift a biscuit. I'm not leaving you unattended for the entire school day."

"This is embarrassing," he said, poking his head out the top of the bag. "I can't be seen like this."

"Who are you afraid of when it comes to laughing at you?" He didn't answer, instead sinking down sourly and hiding under some marking. "Doctor…?"

"Clara, I am a cosmic being nigh-fathomable on several levels, the destroyer of civilizations, and an entity that brings fear and horror where he goes—I am not risking being seen, period."

"You're worried the students will laugh at you, aren't you?"

"No!" He sank back down into the bag. "Possibly."

"Leave the Year Eights to me," she smirked. After making sure everything was in the bag that she needed, she closed it up and grabbed her helmet—it was time to get to work.

Things had gone by throughout the day mostly as was normal. Clara taught—or attempted to teach, in the case of her Year Tens—her classes with as much ease one could ask for with secondary schoolers. She did, however, keep sneaking peeks into her bag to surreptitiously check in on the Doctor Doll and how he was doing throughout the day. He was intensely bored, but with the help of her mobile and some earbuds, he was able to just barely get through the day without the need to bust out of the bag and terrify human children. Hidden and safe, he whiled away the day ready to scream in boredom every five minutes.

"I'm genuinely proud of you," Clara noted. They were in the shop picking up things for dinner. She had one earbud in so that it looked like she was simply on her mobile, despite the fact it was just the Doctor Doll grouchily stuffed in her bag. "You made it through without scaring anyone."

"I'm a toy—there's no way that I can scare anyone like this."

"There is, trust me." She placed some veg in her basket and kept going. "At least you don't eat much like this. The money I could save in food might be almost worth it."

"This is serious, Clara! We need to turn me back sooner rather than later!" he insisted. "I don't think you want to handle a crisis by yourself if something goes awry and the Doctor is needed!"

"I think you've said yourself that I make a good Doctor," she reminded him, "and I wouldn't be alone. I have resources."

"Ha—like what?"

"I would think that the President's Wife has a bit of pull, don't you think? That is, if they don't accept me as the Doctor, and therefore President in my own right."

The Doctor Doll burrowed further into her bag, grumpily avoiding the rest of the conversation. Clara ignored his grousing and finished up her shopping, having finally decided what she was going to have for dinner that night. She paid and took the groceries home without hearing a peep from the Doctor Doll, which was honestly a bit suspicious after everything was put away and she still hadn't seen him crawl his way out.

"Are you stuck in there?" she teased, grabbing her bag and opening it. After moving a bunch of things, she found the Doctor Doll at the bottom of her bag, having been immobilized by all the stuff. "When you're normal again, I think you might want to consider a weight set."

"Not being able to move your wallet in this form has nothing to do with my ability to lift anything else ever," he said. The doll went to climb out of the bag when one of his nubbin-feet caught on the zipper of an internal pocket and tore a hole that went up his leg. Red, fluffy fibers began to spill out of the tear, which confused both human and doll.

"Clara! I think this might be this body's version of bleeding?!"

"Oh, hold on," she said, scooping him up and carrying him out of the kitchen. She found her way to the sitting room, where there was a small sewing kit in the side-table's drawer. Placing him on the couch, she watched as he tried to contain the extra stuffing as she prepped a needle and thread. "Come on—it can't be that bad."

"It can and it is!" he insisted, laying down on his side. The Doctor Doll clutched its leg and made pathetic-sounding noises, as though now he could magically feel something despite having been suffocated and squished by her wallet for well over forty minutes before.

Carefully, Clara took his legs and shoved the stuffing back in, then pinching the rip shut before getting to work with the thread. "I don't do this too often, so I'm not promising it will be pretty."

"Please fix it, Clara," he requested. "This body is confusing enough as it is."

"Alright you big baby—give me a 'mo…"

After sewing up the Doctor Doll's pant leg as carefully as possible, Clara had to stop and admire her handiwork. It didn't look bad at all. She tied it off and placed the sewing kit back in its place; it was done. The Doctor Doll remained on the couch, however, moaning pathetically.

"This is it," he moaned. "I'm going to be like this forever."

"Hey, no whining," she scolded gently. She picked him up and hugged him close to her chest. "Let me make sure that I won't accidentally pilot us off-landing by a week and a half and then we can go fix this, alright? It won't be so bad in the meantime."

Despite not having a proper nose—let alone lungs—the Doctor Doll sniffled. Crying was not something that he normally did openly, which made her realize that all the stress of not knowing what was going to happen or how long it would take was getting to him.

"Here, let's take a nap," she offered. "I think a lie-down before dinner would do us both good."

The Doctor Doll nodded quietly and Clara carried him through the flat again to her bedroom. She let him free atop the bed before she went and changed out of her clothes and into some pajamas. He was able to construct himself a burrow of blankets before she laid down next to him, clutching him tightly.

"Half hour, alright?" she suggested. "I got an alarm on."

"Sounds good to me," he replied. They both concentrated on going to sleep—with both succeeding—before it felt as though the alarm arrived too early. Clara slapped her alarm and rolled back over, realizing in her groggy haze that she had let go of the doll.

...except, when she went to grab him again, she noticed that the Doctor was now precisely that: a regular Time Lord of flesh and blood. She cuddled him discreetly, hoping he would stay oblivious for at least a little bit longer.

At least it didn't last too long, whatever it was that made him that way. She went to further her nap by closing her eyes and thinking about possibly needing to take a trip out to Karn, as it was the only place she could imagine with the possible capability to put such a weird-yet-short-lived condition on the Doctor.

He rolled over and put his face in her chest as he slept—sure was cuddly, the Doctor.