#amelia's writing

[thoughtkick]

I hope you’ll see me one day and see who I’ve become. I hope regret steals your breath.

Jess Amelia

[surqrised]

I hope you’ll see me one day and see who I’ve become. I hope regret steals your breath.

Jess Amelia

[amelias-art]

"You were always different..."

happy 810nicle day!!! i tried to draw movie-style takua from memory, went to look up what he actually looked like, and decided i liked my version better LOL

[genderqueerpond]

We don't talk enough about the fact that Amelia Pond, s5 Amelia Pond, before the timeline is reset, isn't just a normal orphan. Her parents didn't die, didn't abandon her, and didn't send her away. They never existed in the first place.

And if her parents never existed, then Amelia cannot exist. She is a causal impossibility.

"People fall out of the world sometimes, but they always leave traces." A photograph. A face carved into an apple. Yes. Sure.

A child.

Now that's too big, surely.

But that's what she is. She is exactly the same as these things. A trace. An echo of something that could never be, never was, never could have been.

And the universe should never allow it. A whole person, that's just too much. She could not have continued to exist indefinitely, in normal circumstances, after her parents never existed.

In normal circumstances.

Because the Doctor didn't just save her from things coming out of the crack in her wall. He saved her from going into it. And he didn't just save her from the threat of going into it simply because of its vicinity.

No, by arriving when he did, he interrupted a process that was probably already in motion. And then by arriving again only moments later on a cosmic relative timestream (too quickly for the process to complete) and yet in the local relative timestream, years later --- years of a potential future caught midway through the process of rewriting -- he solidified that existence. Amy is a creature from another timeline, caught in amber. The Doctor prevented her from never existing, but only after she could already never exist.

And so, no one around Amelia thinks about it. Neither does she. There's some kind of consciousness block, because if you thought about it, really thought about it, for two seconds you'd realize she cannot exist. And the human mind can't deal with that. So, to protect itself, everyone's brain simply slides off it before ever noticing. They just assume that her existence makes sense, and don't question it, and don't notice what they don't question, that is staring them in the face.

But of course, to some extent they do notice. They can't think it, but they notice subconsciously that there's something they can't think. They notice there's something wrong with her, something uncanny. And they don't like it, and they alienate her even more because of it.

"Does it ever bother you Pond that your life existence doesn't make any sense?"

[glupshittostan]

this is actually how blind betrayal went down

[akajustmerry]

"Ultimately, the larger question is why this perfectly performed flirtation is so noteworthy. Has pop culture become so chaste? Has COVID, and the sex scene drought, left audiences so starved of intimacy on-screen that even the most curated chemistry content pulls at our collective heartstrings? In many ways, the flurry around the interview confirms it: we’re officially in the throes of a chemistry recession."

This Reeks Of A Chemistry Recession by Merryana Salem | Subscribe to The Offcut and support 3 journalists of colour.

[mazzystar24]

I would bet my life that Tommy is one of those weird gay republicans

Like this is just a fact to me

[asoftepiloguemylove]

everything i've ever let go of has claw marks on it

Frank Bidart The Third Hour of the Night / Ashe Vernon IT'S A CIRCUS AND WE ALL PAID TO BE HERE / unknown / Rachel Swirsky A Memory of Wind / unknown / unknown / @borzoidaily

[perfectquote]

I hope you’ll see me one day and see who I’ve become. I hope regret steals your breath.

Jess Amelia

[will80sbyers]

the cutest family ✨

[thoughtkick]

You know when, sometimes you meet someone so beautiful, and then you actually talk to them and five minutes later, they’re as dull as a brick? Then there’s other people, and you meet them and you think, ‘Not bad; they’re okay.’ And then you get to know them, and their face sort of becomes them, like their personality is written all over it. And they just turn into something so beautiful.

Amelia Pond

[saturnville]

stolen moments, major john egan

pairing: major john "bucky" egan x black fem oc (amelia mae egan)

content: john manages to call amelia after not hearing her voice for weeks.

an: this was the top choice in the poll so far. I've been anxious to write so we knocked this off the list first lol. enjoy!

“Are you alright, Major?” 

They’d just arrived at a new station. It smelled like sweat and fear. Men streamed throught the doors like a school of fish. Their deep voices shook the brick walls as their conversations bellowed throughout the building. Dozens of men struggled to keep their composure. He was one of them.

He was overwhelmed. Tired. Desparate. His clothes felt tight against his body. The scent of gasoline and fumes clung to his vest. His hat damp and chilled against his forehead. His shoes were coated in black soot.

John’s eyes caught the telephone in the corner of the station. It was secluded from the rest of the quarters, in a corner, protected by a frosted glass divider. John's shoes grazed the dirty floor as he strode purposefully towards the telephone.

“M’fine. Head in and get your rest. Long day in the morning.” He didn’t know how he was able to make out coherent sentences. Gale stepped in, noticing his friend’s disheveled state and guided the men to the resting quarters. 

John’s shoes kissed the dirty floor as he stood long strides to the telephone. He shrugged off his backpack and slid it by his feet. His hands trembled as he plucked the phone off the hook and typed in the number he had engraved in his heart. 

It rang. And rang. And rang. His heartbeat was in his ears. His nails scratched as the black paint around the phone as he succumbed to his anxiety. He sent a silent prayer to God above. 

Then he heard it. “Hello?” John’s forehead tapped the frosted glass as he rested against it. Relief washed over him like a tidal wave. He’d never been particularly sensitive, but he was overwhelmed with emotion, good and bad, and hearing her sweet voice made his eyes well with tears. 

The words were stuck in his throat and all he could release was a heavy sigh. That seemed to be enough for her to identify the caller. “Johnny?” 

He shut his eyes. A lone tear fell from his eye. “Hey, Rosie.”

Amelia let out a soft cry. “Oh, thank God! I-I thought something happened to you; I hadn’t heard from you in weeks. Are you okay, where are you now? Is Gale alright, when are you coming…” His first instinct was to cut her rambling short, but the sound of her voice was the choir-like song his soul ached to hear. 

He’d gone three weeks without hearing her voice. It was the most tortuous three weeks of his life. For 21 days, he survived by remembering the last words she said before they hung up, Whatever you do, do not die on me, do you understand? I love you, John. I love you. I love you. I love you. It kept his heart beating.

A small smile tugged on his lips. “I’m okay, baby, I promise. Things got a little rough; didn’t stay in one place too long. I didn’t mean to scare you.”  

“I’m just happy to hear your voice…are you okay?” 

His stomach churned at her question. A feeling of despair threatened to creep upon him. Thirty men lost. A plane in the middle of the ocean. An uneasy stomach and even more uneasy mental state. His head pounded, his body shook with unwanted adrenaline, and his hands craved the feeling of her hot skin. He was not okay. 

“No,” he replied honestly, rubbing his eye with the stump of his palm. “I’m not okay but I will be. Especially because I get to talk to my favorite girl. Tell me about your day..”

He heard her heavy sigh. “Deflection won’t rid you of what you’re feeling.” 

“Talking about it won’t do too much good, either. It’s…it’s hard, Rose. I just.” John’s jaw clenched as he struggled to articulate what he felt. “I just can’t talk about it right now, Amelia. If I do, I don’t think I’ll be able to keep it together.” 

Silence stretched on, interrupted only by the sound of her shuffling on the other end. She was probably sitting at the edge of her bed. He imagined her, looking pretty in her long-sleeved pajamas and satin scarf, with a blanket tucked under her chin.

“Then how about this,” she started. “You make it home in one piece to tell me about it later, yeah?” 

“Always making demands,” John laughed. The first genuine sound of joy he’d made all day. And it made her smile. So wide that her cheeks were sore and her dimples made an appearance. “But you’ve got a deal.” He readied himself to speak again, but a tap on his shoulder interrupted him. 

Gale. Meeting with the CO in five minutes, he mouthed. John nodded. He ran a hand through his dirty hair. “Darlin’, I’ve got a meeting in five minutes; I’m sorry.  If I don’t call in the morning, know I love you, alright?” 

“I know. I love you, too. Don’t apologize. Just make it back to me.”

“Always.”

[pinkponyglitter]

hii Are you accepting requests? If so could you do an Amelia Shepherd and Reader where they are going to have a baby?

Thank you ❤️

You need a new pet name | Amelia Shepherd x reader

notes; god, i’m so so sorry!! i’ve been inactive here for more than a year and honestly a lot of things changed, but i think it’s time to get back here! thanks for the request though!! it’s not that great, and definitely not a lot of Amelia here (i really suck at pregnancy topic, but i’m also scared of pregnancy, so i think that’s fair). this is not read proof, so if you noticed any mistakes; no you didn’t.

tags; established relationship, bisexual amelia x lesbian reader, use of pet names, pregnancy

tw; mentions of vomiting

summary; you’ve been trying for some time now, but the fate wasn’t quite on your side… or maybe it was?

words count; 1.3k

It’s been going great.

Maybe not amazing, definitely not ideal, but it was still yours and you could live with that.

Except you wanted more.

”What’s the point in trying again, baby,” you asked, plopping yourself down on the couch, “it’s not going to work anyway.”

“You don’t know, anything can happen.” Amelia sat down right next to you, wrapping her arm around your waist.

Bullshit.

You simply rolled your eyes at her words, she was always saying that. Anything can happen and you should be quiet, until you actually try. But you tried.

“We’ve been trying. I know that Naomi and Addison said that we have a good chance, but maybe they were wrong,” you shrugged. She started tracing small circles on your waist with her thumb and you leaned into her touch. “Maybe we should try other options,” you added, except you didn’t want to try anything else. At least not now.

“We still have two tries, love,” she mumbled, nuzzling her head into your neck and leaving there soft, hot kisses. “We can try other options, if you’re sure you don’t want to try anymore.”

That’s the thing, you wanted to. You were just busted that previous attempts had been big disappointing failures.

So you kept quiet and bit your lip.

“No, I think we should try again,” you said softly, and looked at Amelia who was still snuggled against your side. “Who knows, this will be our third attempt. They always say; the third time’s the charm, right?

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

The morning was slow, weirdly slow. Sure yeah, Amelia was still snuggled against your side, trapping you in her firm embrace. You were tired and that wouldn’t have been weird, but you could’ve sworn you had a fever.

Great, fucking great.

“Love, you need to let me go. I need to get up,” you mumbled to the brunette who was still holding you tight. She only groaned at your words.

“No you don’t,” she mumbled back. You rolled your eyes. “You rolled your eyes, didn’t ya?” She asked, almost chuckling. “Alright, go, but please get back as soon as you can.”

“Yeah, I will,” you said and got up from the bed, almost too fast. Or maybe it was too fast, because you almost fell down on the bed again.

That is definitely weird, you should call in sick today.

So you did, you called in sick and checked your temperature. You definitely had a fever, and honestly thinking about food made you feel even worse. You ran down the stairs and decided to make yourself a cup of tea.

Tea is great, tea won’t make you throw up.

“You were supposed to get back to bed,” she said, her voice still a bit raspy from sleep.

“I’m just not feeling too well today,” you shrugged and started to make yourself tea. “I have a fever and well, even thinking about food makes me nauseous.”

“You’re staying home, right?” She asked and turned on the coffee machine, when she started actually making it you almost puked. “Woah, that bad?” You only nodded.

It was indeed that bad. Coffee never made you nauseous, the smell of the coffee never made you sick either. You took your cup and moved to the living room excusing yourself to her.

The last thing you needed was to throw up. Especially in the kitchen.

The rest of the morning was rather peaceful, although you had to dismiss Amelia without a goodbye kiss. You just simply wished her good day at work, and reminded her to text you while she can.

You didn’t want to be alone, but you didn’t really have a choice.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

In the evening you called Addison, you knew she was busy, but definitely less busy than most of your friends. Gotta love having doctors as friends. She answered almost immediately.

“Hey sweetheart, what’s up? You’re pregnant already?” She was excited, screw that, she was practically singing into your ear. You almost wanted to slap her through the phone. Too bad she was in LA, because you definitely would do that if you could.

“No, I’m sick, alone, tired, miserable and I need company,” you mumbled, fidgeting with a corner of the blanket you've been wrapped in.

“Amelia isn’t home yet?” She asked, you could hear Jake and Henry in the background.

“No, she’s not. She was pulled into emergency surgery.” You hated that part of her job, because it was unpredictable. Even though you loved her and you admired her work, you still liked to complain a bit.

Complaining doesn’t hurt anyone, does it?

“Well, alright then. I guess I can keep you company for a bit,” she started and probably moved to another room. The sounds of Jake and Henry’s bantering went quiet. “Are you sure you’re sick?”

“What do you mean?” You furrowed your eyebrows. You had a fever, you were nauseous and tired. Of course you were sick.

“You know… Sometimes you feel like that when you’re pregnant. Early pregnancy symptoms,” she clarified.

Don’t play with me, please don’t play with me.

“Addison… It’s really not funny,” you rubbed your face with your hands, but you shifted anxiously on the couch.

“You can check, you know.” Of course she would say that, but you didn’t really want to. It was still early.

“Isn’t it too early to check?” You furrowed your eyebrows, now that she said that… Maybe she wasn’t wrong?

“Maybe, but it doesn’t hurt to try, does it?”

No it doesn’t.

You bit your lip and considered your options. You could try and be extremely disappointed. Or you could just forget about it and check when it was actually time.

But you always were a bit impatient.

“I’ll check, but it’ll be your fault if I’m disappointed,” you joked. Half joked.

You don’t remember the last time you’ve been so anxious. You knew it wasn’t exactly the time to check, and you probably would just disappoint yourself, but you couldn’t help it.

Your hands were shaking, Addison was just rambling about Henry’s school fair. She really wasn’t a fan of those, but it was her son after all, and he quite frankly liked it.

“Alright, now we wait,” you said, maybe to her, maybe to yourself. You weren’t entirely sure.

Addison continued rambling, you’ve never been so grateful for her talent for that. You ran your hand through your hair and looked into the mirror, but quickly looked away. Eyes on the test, as it would disappear if you weren’t looking.

When the timer went off you almost fell down to your knees.

You were so anxious, but when you picked up this tiny piece of plastic, your jaw almost hit the floor.

“Oh my gracious God,” you mumbled, looking at two lines dumbfounded.

You were pregnant.

“Your what?” Addison pulled you out of this weird state. You actually thought it was a dream, a joke or just a defective test.

But when you picked up the second and the third test. You started crying.

“Hey, sweetheart. You okay?” She asked again, clearly feeling confused and definitely concerned.

“Oh my god, Addison… I’m pregnant,” you gasped, still looking at the tests. You really thought it would just disappear if you looked away. “I’m pregnant,” you repeated.

“Are you serious?” You didn’t know if you were. Maybe you were crazy and just imagined the whole thing. Maybe your fever was so high that you hallucinated the whole thing.

“I think so.”

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

“Babe, I’m home!” You heard Amelia’s voice. You twitched anxiously.

“In the bathroom!” You yelled back, you couldn’t move. You were just leaning against the counter, and staring at the three pieces of plastic.

You were really pregnant.

“Baby… Are you okay? Why didn’t you text me back? You weren’t throwing up, were yo–“ she stopped in the doorway.

The brunette just stepped closer and looked down at the counter. You finally moved your head and looked at her.

“You need a new pet name for me,” you rasped.

And well, this is basically how the two became a three.

[surqrised]

You know when, sometimes you meet someone so beautiful, and then you actually talk to them and five minutes later, they’re as dull as a brick? Then there’s other people, and you meet them and you think, ‘Not bad; they’re okay.’ And then you get to know them, and their face sort of becomes them, like their personality is written all over it. And they just turn into something so beautiful.

Amelia Pond

[genderqueerpond]

You know, I think Clara knew about Amy.

Not at first, of course, but Clara grew up with her --- that is, grew up reading Amelia Williams books. And they were precious to her, books she's read many times over the course of her childhood -- how else does she know exactly which chapter holds what in the book she gave Artie? Perhaps she has always felt connected to her, this moderately obscure children's fantasy author, following in the footsteps of E Nesbit; this contemporary (and sometime friend (oh yes!) ) of Edward Eager's; although not nearly as widely known as either of these. Perhaps because of her choice to publish openly under a "woman's name", thus, in the time in which she lived, relegating her books to the inferior realm of "girls' books", despite the more than equal balance of male viewpoint characters.

But Amelia Williams is different from these authors too -- often fantasy, but sometimes more like early science fiction, a barely- recognized pioneer in both genres. Her views were feminist and daring. In so many ways she was ahead of her time, and the innovations she imagined! almost as if she knew what the future would hold.

And if Clara knows and loves her books so well, she can hardly fail to recognize the most frequently repeated character archetype in them. especially after she rereads a few on a subconscious hunch, during that summer after the Maitlands found a permanent nanny and she insisted that before anything else, she go off and fulfill her original travel plans from 101 Places To See. (The Doctor purported to leave her alone to forge her own way with this, but was in actuality very bad at that, and kept popping up nearly every place she went.) She's Clara, she's clever, how can she fail to look up from her book and notice that the person who's just appeared out of nowhere to stand in front of her with a plate of jammie dodgers and a goofy smile has stepped directly out of the pages?

And then of course, there are the dedications. Sure, there's normal stuff like "to my daughter", "to my loving and patient husband", and "to my parents, who are children now" which is rather weird and whimsical, but fits in with the fantasy author's signature style of dream-like imagination.

But the majority of Amelia Williams' dedication pages say things like "to You", "to My Doctor", "to My Raggedy Doctor" "to my raggedy man" (weird but clearly connected to the other variants), and, cryptically, over and over again: "to you", "to you", "to you", "to you (wherever in time and space you are)".

There's "to my imaginary friend" and "to my imaginary friend, and to all children who have an imaginary friend" and "to my imaginary friend, and every child in the universe who's ever met him, or ever will". Nerds and English teachers have occasionally debated what, if anything, she meant by all this, and now Clara thinks she knows, but she can never say....

And then there are the nights that the Doctor wakes up crying out for "Amy!" and then refuses to talk about it when Clara asks, refuses to acknowledge ever even knowing an Amy, "well everyone shouts random things when they're asleep, it doesn't mean anything" and "I don't remember." if pressed for details about his dreaming. And later he might go off somewhere and cry quietly, reading a book he never lets Clara see.

And then he regenerates, and calls out for "Amelia!", "the first face this face saw."

There's newborn twelve, with his Scottish accent, letting her name slip. It's the first - and only - time he's spoken of her while awake and not actively dying. And Clara is too busy with the immediate threat to their lives to think about it in the moment, but at this point she at the very least has a hunch about the connection between him and the Scottish-American author with the rather opaque background --- that as far as anyone can trace it (although to be fair, no one really cares enough to try very hard) she and her husband just kind of appeared out of nowhere in pre-WWII New York. It seems kind of obvious, now, that the doctor would have had a hand in that.

And now with all the books everywhere, the library gradually migrating into the console room, what else is obvious is that he owns every single one of her books. multiple copies, first editions, last editions, signed copies, mass paperbacks, everything. There's a TARDIS key hidden in a well-worn, well-loved, tear streaked copy of The Cuckoo And The Doll's House, which Clara finds when she's cataloging all the locations of TARDIS keys, just in case she should ever need that information one day.

This all is enough for Clara to know. There doesn't really need to be any more proof, but there is. What totally and fully clinches it are the pictures. Tucked in the pages of another tearstained book (The Beast Below this time), are photographs of Amelia, looking just as she does in her black and white author photos, but younger, and in 21st century clothes. Elsewhere, later, she finds photo booth polaroids of a still younger Amelia, goofing off and smiling. Some of them feature another young man Clara doesn't recognize, and some of them feature the Doctor. He's wearing a tweed jacket instead of his purple wool, and no vest, but otherwise he is exactly the same as the Doctor she first met. The three of them hang off each other like old friends, like family.

idk how to end this.

[clansocreations]

@ameliapodcast

well....shit.

(Also,you haven't seen Watson around anywhere by any chance, have you?)