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fabulouspotatosister · 4 years ago

Text

is it still you?

summary: getting left behind is never easy. being found is even harder.

word count: 6,127

gif(s) by: @gabrielokun, @elenaglbert

a/n: hello there, everyone! welcome to my first proper fic since the school year started! you might have seen this on that wip title game i did a little while back, and here it is! thank you to @penguinwithitsarseonfire for reminding me that this idea even existed and inspiring me to write it :0 hope you’re all doing well lovelies!

~ o ~

“Amy, I’ll be fine.”

Amy rested against the console, one delicate eyebrow raised as she watched you hover by the Doctor’s side. You were watching him tinker with something on the console, but you could still feel Amy boring holes into you. “Right, just in case we forget the last time you said you were gonna be fine - remind me again why you’re the one doing this?”

“Because I’ve done it a bunch of times!” You glanced up at Amy, then shrunk back at her piercing gaze. You were definitely being judged. You swallowed the urge to say “sorry, mom”. “Reconnaissance. Right, Doctor?”

“Right,” the Doctor replied, sounding slightly distracted. He was peering at what looked like an earbud through a magnifying glass. His coat lay abandoned, flung carelessly over one of the chairs in the console room. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, and a pair of large circular goggles rested over his face as he worked. He was cute, but you’d never say that to his face. “I’ve tracked the weapon to this planet, but they’re a hivemind - if they see me, they’ll raise an alarm. I need you to be my eyes and ears.”

“Aye aye, captain,” you said cheerfully, raising a hand to your forehead in a mock salute. “Racked up your fair share of enemies, huh?”

“Oh, you know me.” The Doctor poked at the earbud-thingie with a sparking device. “I’m like James Bond.”

“You wish you were like James Bond,” Amy piped up.

“Oi!” The Doctor looked up, indignation written over his face even through the huge goggles. “I’d make a great spy.”

Amy grinned at you. Something dangerous glittered in her eyes. “You’d trip over those laser things and set off a bomb with those limbs of yours.”

The Doctor made a frustrated noise, and buried his nose in the magnifying glass again.

“Okay, maybe not James Bond,” you said. You let your hand rest on his shoulder, trying not to jostle him as he started connecting some very thin wires. “I think you’ve got the gadgets down, though. You’d be the Quartermaster.”

“The man in the chair,” the Doctor muttered.

“Yeah, the man in the chair,” you repeated. Absentmindedly, you let your hand wander, travelling down his back slightly. The Doctor went still. “You’ve got a very important job.”

“...Yep.” The Doctor’s voice was strained.

“Okay, enough, lovebirds,” Amy said. She raised a finger before the Doctor could protest against the “lovebirds” comment. “Is she gonna be gone long?”

“Hopefully not,” the Doctor answered. “Just long enough for me to find out where they’ve landed so I can shut off their queen. It shouldn’t be too far. Twenty minutes, tops. And - aha!”

The Doctor grinned widely at you, pushing the goggles off his face. “That should do it. Look -” He plucked the earbud from the console and beamed at it. “Your very own communicator. Brand new! You don’t even need your phone.” It gleamed silver as he turned it over in his hands. “It links up directly to the TARDIS so we can hear you twenty-four-seven. Or seventy-two seven here.”

“It’s beautiful,” you said, and if it was possible, the Doctor beamed brighter. You reached out to take it, but the Doctor moved forward before you could snatch it from his hand.

“Hang on, let me,” the Doctor said softly. He leaned down, brushing his hand against your hair, and you shuddered. Some kind of heavy silence fell over the two of you as he tucked a piece of hair behind your ear and gently pushed the communicator in - it fit snugly, almost like it was made for you. Which it was. When he spoke again, his voice was hushed. “There we go.”

Amy met your gaze. Lovebirds, she mouthed.

Shut up, you mouthed back.

The Doctor ran to the other side of the console, picking up the telephone and quickly punching in some numbers. There was the whining sound of feedback in your ear. He tapped the receiver, and the soft tap tap tap felt like someone tapping directly on your brain. “Can you hear this?”

“Loud and clear.” He tapped again, and you winced. “Ow.”

“Sorry,” the Doctor said. He raised the phone to his lips and spoke again, but quieter. The sound sent shivers down your spine, and you tried not to visibly tremble. “It doubles as a tracker, so I’ll know exactly where you are.”

“Useful,” you squeaked out. Amy waggled her eyebrows at you, and you didn’t have the strength to tell her to stop. “Anything else?”

“Nope!” the Doctor said, setting down the phone with a thunk. “Alright! I think you’re all set, mission control.”

You frowned. “I thought you were mission control.”

The Doctor opened his mouth, as if to say something, but caught himself. He settled on smiling instead, the corners of his lips turning up meekly. “My mistake. You’ve been mission control before, I just…”

“Yeah, when you lost the TARDIS with me in it,” you said, giving him the gentlest smile you could muster. “Remember that? Good times.”

The Doctor hummed in reply. He shifted in place, staring at you, his hands hanging limply by his sides. In the dim, yellowish light of the TARDIS interior, you couldn’t tell if he was blushing or not. He stood there for a moment, his lips slightly parted, seemingly lost in thought.

“Hey,” you ventured. The Doctor jumped at the sound of your voice, his gaze darting up to meet yours. “You okay?”

“Always,” he said quickly. “I’m just seeing you off. That’s what I’m doing.”

He was not, in fact, just seeing you off. This was typical Doctor behavior - he was dodging the question. It was almost frustrating, but the way he looked like he was pouting took the edge off the frustration a little bit. But only a little bit. “Are you worried?”

“Me?” The Doctor pulled a confident face, the one he put on when he wasn’t. “Never.”

If you weren’t looking at the Doctor, really looking at him, you would have believed him. But then there was rule one - after some time, the Doctor had turned into an open book for you. The way he stood, very still when he was usually bouncing off the walls, told a different story.

You met his eyes, and something shifted. His face morphed, from confident to bittersweet, to an expression that looked almost mournful. He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Oh, bugger it,” the Doctor muttered under his breath.

“Doctor - oh!”

He grabbed your arm and pulled you towards him, pulling you flush against his chest. He wrapped his arms around your shoulders and squeezed. He dipped his head down onto your shoulders, his face disappearing into your neck. Amy whistled, but you didn’t hear her - you were too busy focusing on feeling the Doctor’s lips on your skin, and his breath, warm against it, and - well -

“I wasn’t expecting that,” you gasped out.

The Doctor didn’t reply - just squeezed tighter. This face was most definitely a hugger, but they were mostly short and sweet. Little celebratory hugs. These hugs were reserved for certain moments, and certain people.

“I’m the man in the chair, of course I’m worried,” he finally muttered. “It’s sort of my job.”

“You’ll keep me safe,” you said. You leaned back, and the Doctor lifted his head to look at you. “Mission control, remember? You’ll be there to guide me.”

The Doctor peered at you. “You trust me,” he said quietly, like he couldn’t believe it.

“After all this time, how could I not?” You gave him another soft smile. “You’re trusting me to do this, I’m trusting you to keep me safe.”

“Just -” The Doctor sighed, ragged, and squeezed his eyes shut. When they opened, they were filled with a familiar concern. “Promise me you’ll be careful. I can’t lose you too.”

The last part was nearly a whisper. The sound of his voice tugged at your heart.

“You won’t,” you said, pulling away from his embrace. Disappointment flickered in the Doctor’s eyes as you stepped backwards towards the doors. “Ever.”

“Okay,” the Doctor said. He looked you over, his expression turning serious. “Ready?”

You nodded. “On your signal, captain.”

A grin slowly spread across the Doctor’s face, childlike. “Captain. I like the sound of that.”

Amy ran up to you, pulling you into another quick hug. She looked just as concerned as the Doctor when she pulled away, holding your face protectively. “Seriously, be safe, alright? I don’t want to be stuck with him without you.”

“Noted,” you replied, and Amy brightened.

“My company isn’t that bad, is it?” the Doctor asked.

“It’s unbearable,” you joked, and the Doctor pouted. Amy laughed, you laughed, and eventually the Doctor joined in too, chuckling quietly under his breath.

The TARDIS doors swung open slowly, and a gust of cold air burst through them. You walked backwards, waving your fingers at the two in a two-fingered salute, and creeped quietly through the doors.

The first thing that startled you was the smell. The familiar smell of wet grass. A light drizzle fell on your skin, and you looked up. The sky was dark and full of stars - in the distance, you could see the faint lights of flickering street lamps and lit up windows. You could hear the faint sounds of people chattering and cars passing through the night. All of these things were things you knew -

“Doctor, we’re not in the right place,” you said, tapping your earpiece.

A feedback whine, then the Doctor’s voice, loud and clear as if he was beside you. “What? No, the coordinates were right, I checked -”

“Check again.” Something felt off. You took a hesitant step backward, your back resting against the TARDIS doors. “This is Earth.”

“No, it can’t be,” the Doctor said, incredulous.

“I can see houses in the distance,” you said, “human houses. Unless this is a really convincing simulation, I’m really sure we’ve just landed back on my home planet.”

“Why’d you send us here, old girl?” he asked quietly, probably to the TARDIS. You could faintly hear the TARDIS hum and beep in reply. Then, sharply: “What?”

"Doctor?” you asked. You tried to keep the fear from creeping into your voice.

“Come back inside, quickly,” the Doctor snapped.

The urgency in his voice scared the hell out of you, and you straightened, whirling around to face the doors. The handles rattled, but the doors didn’t budge. “I can’t,” you gasped.

“They’re not locked.” The Doctor’s voice sounded strange through the earpiece. It was getting fuzzier, the ends of his sentences tapering off into silence. “I’ve unlocked them, you should be able to get inside -”

You moved to try again… and your hand passed right through the door handle. You stumbled forward, shocked, and stared at your hand like it was the one that had turned transparent. Then the air started shimmering, and you heard the beautiful wheezing and singing of the TARDIS’s engines -

It was leaving you behind.

“No, no -” Your voice was like molasses in your mouth. You pressed yourself against the doors. They were still solid, still there. The door handles were impossible to grab now, just a faint image in the air, and a sob crawled up your throat. “Doctor, don’t leave!”

A yell ripped through the earpiece, and you winced - the Doctor only ever raised his voice when he was furious. You curled your fists and pressed them against the doors.

“This can’t be happening, this -” Another strangled noise. It sounded like a sob, and your eyes blurred with tears. “Stay put,” the Doctor said, his voice trembling with emotion.

If you imagined hard enough you could feel him on the other side of the door. “Okay,” you replied shakily, and sniffed.

“I’ll come find you.” The Doctor sounded like a broken man. Your name falling from his lips sounded like a promise. “I -”

His voice cut off, and the TARDIS was gone.

You pitched forward and didn’t even bother to put up a fight - your knees buckled underneath you, and you fell onto your knees in the wet grass. Sharp rocks dug into your skin. You could barely feel their jagged edges. You looked up at the night sky as the drizzle slowly eased into a rainstorm, and suddenly your home planet had never felt so alien before.

“Doctor?” you whimpered, your voice impossibly small. It was foolish, thinking the Doctor could hear you, but you didn’t care - “Doctor, can you hear me?”

Nothing. You were soaked now, raindrops running down your face and blurring with your tears. Biting back another sob, you tried again. “Please - come back, okay?”

The silence was deafening.

You didn’t know how long you had spent in the rain. Long enough for the lights in the windows to shut off, one by one; long enough for chattering and the sounds of passing cars to quiet down; long enough for the rain to fall even harder than before. Long enough for you to stop shivering from the cold, and long enough -

Long enough for something to block the onslaught of the rain. Blearily, you looked up at the face of a young woman in a police uniform, holding an umbrella over the both of you.

“Ma’am, are you alright?” she asked softly. The tone of her voice was enough to make you start bawling again, as if you hadn't spent the last hour just crying your eyes out. “You shouldn’t be out here in the rain.”

“I know, I just -” How could you explain this to her? “I’m lost,” was what you settled on.

The woman’s face brightened in a reassuring smile. “Not to worry, I'm here to help."

You nodded, bringing yourself to your feet. The policewoman held out her hand for support, and you wrapped your hands around her arm. You didn’t trust your legs to keep you upright right now. “Sorry, weird question, but - where am I?”

She probably thought you were drunk. That was a better alternative than the truth. “Sheffield,” the policewoman replied.

You hoped she was ready for an even weirder question - “What year is it?”

A year passed. Settling in was easy enough - thankfully, you had your wallet and phone on you when you arrived back on Earth. All it took was a quick call back home, some trips back and forth to move your things, some paperwork, and you were officially a Sheffield citizen.

You kept the earpiece. Found a way to wear it around your neck like some kind of ornament. It looked pretty enough, but it was hard to move on when you had a reminder of him resting like a weight on your heart everyday.

You had tried talking into it on some days, on rainy days that reminded you of the day you were left behind. Sometimes, if you listened hard enough, you could hear faint conversation, sometimes laughter.

Maybe he’d forgotten. Maybe he’d found another companion. Maybe he had gone off to find that Clara girl. It was none of your business now, and yet -

You could’ve gone back to your actual home. But it was so hard to leave - it was hard to leave when the Doctor’s last words had been stay put. Your rational brain tried to convince you that he could find you wherever you were, but there was just something that was keeping you from leaving.

Yasmin Khan was the policewoman’s name, and she was your very first friend in Sheffield. She’d been the one to help you adjust, and had been the one to help you find a job - as a receptionist in a hospital.

It was a little funny, working with doctors when none of them were him.

A bolt of lightning lit up the sky. You turned to look out your window - there was no rain, and yet the rumbling sound of thunder echoed across the land. Absentmindedly, you brushed your fingers against the earpiece. It was worn now, from all the constant sentimental holding.

Your phone chimed. A weather forecast - scattered thunderstorms, it read. And your lock screen - a still image of you and the Doctor that Amy had taken, once upon a time. You were on your tippy toes, adjusting the Doctor’s bow tie with an exaggerated focused look on your face, while the Doctor just stood there, flustered.

They say take a picture, it lasts longer. You still had pictures of all your travels. They felt like tourist pictures, posing in front of alien architecture and making silly faces at otherworldly flora and fauna. They lay buried under pictures of paperwork and cute kids that came into the office, but they were still there.

A year. It would be seconds to him, but an eternity for you - and you couldn’t live an eternity hanging on to just memories of him. Your finger hovered above the delete button.

Sorry, Doctor, you thought. The mere idea of just deleting pictures made you feel sad, then you sniffed indignantly. You had to move on some time, and if it could be now, then -

Knock knock knock!

“Who is it?” you called. There was shuffling behind the door, and a hushed argument. “Hello?”

“Hello!” That voice sounded familiar - it was Grace, Grace Sinclaire, who used to be a nurse and someone that you worked with and who was notoriously really nice - “It’s me! Could you open up, love?”

“Coming!” you called back. You ran a hand through your hair and rubbed your face, wondering why she would be at your door at this hour when she should have been heading home with Graham -

You swung the door open and very nearly dropped your phone.

It was Grace, alright - Grace and her grandson Ryan, who was carrying an unconscious woman in his arms.

“Grace, what the -” you floundered. “What’s going on?”

“We need your help,” she said, and gestured to the woman in Ryan’s arms. “Can we come in?”

You were gaping now, craning your neck to try and get a good look at this woman’s face. “You need to take her to A and E, not to my house! I can drive you there, if that’s what you need -”

“I said that too,” Grace said slowly, like she was bracing to drop a bomb on you. “But right before she fell, she said -”

“Said she didn’t trust anywhere that was just initials,” Ryan finished, glancing down at the woman and then back to Grace, who gave you a sympathetic look. “She said your name.”

You swallowed. How -

“No.” An incredulous smile spread across your face, and you shook your head. “No, you’re kidding.”

“It’s true,” Ryan said.

“...I don’t know this woman,” you said nervously.

“She knows you,” Grace said, almost pleading. “Please, love.”

There was no reason for them to be lying - the shell shocked expression on Ryan’s face was enough to tell you that he was absolutely telling the truth, whether you liked it or not.

And something that the Doctor had taught you - never refuse a call for help - echoed in your brain.

“Put her on the sofa,” you said quickly. “I’ll go get blankets.”

A few minutes later, you had a stranger lying limply on your sofa.

She didn’t even make a noise when she was laid down. You laid a floral blanket over her middle, and it settled over her clothes - clothes that were obviously too big for her. The sight rang a bell in the back of your mind, of a night where a man climbed out of his broken ship in a past life’s clothes, clumsy and new -

There was a pull to her that you couldn’t resist. You sat down near her, gently taking her head in your hands and guiding it onto your lap like it was second nature to you. Her skin was warm, almost flushed, blonde hair falling over a surprisingly beautiful face.

Grace crouched down near the woman. “Do you know her?”

You stared at the woman’s face. Your answer would have been no, but now you weren’t so sure. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from her even if you tried - and you were trying. Very hard.

Your hands found their way into her hair, and soon you were running your fingers through it like it was the most natural thing to do. “I don’t know.”

“You look like you do,” Grace’s voice was soft. “You look at her like you’ve known her all your life.”

Your head shot up, and Grace just shrugged. She had a small smile on her lips as she reached for the woman’s arm.

“How do you know that?”

“I can tell,” Grace said simply. “That’s how Graham looks at me, sometimes.”

There was a beat of silence as she took the woman’s pulse, then she gasped - “Ryan - look.”

The woman’s skin was glowing gold.

“Whoah,” Ryan said. The woman’s eyebrows were pinched together, a small crease forming between the two of them. Gold patterns swirled under her skin, pulsing like starlight, and you jerked your hands away from her like she would burn you.

Grace looked up at you, her eyes wide. “She’s got two separate pulses.”

The woman’s arm fell limply at her side as she exhaled - golden dust fell from her lips, floating around like a miniature star in the room. You followed it with your eyes, your mouth hanging open for what must have been the third time that hour.

“Oh my God, what is that?” Ryan asked, moving out of the way.

Grace stared. “I have no idea.”

But you had an idea. You knew. Only one person did that. Only one alien did that. If this was who you thought she was, then -

Suddenly, the woman shot up, sitting bolt upright, breaking you out of your racing thoughts - she clutched her collarbone, gasping, eyes wild and searching. “Who woke me up? I’m not ready - still healing, still -”

Still healing. Your mind was still reeling, still trying to pick up the pieces - her voice was so painfully familiar, and now you knew why. You reached out, placing your hands on your shoulders to soothe her. She startled under your touch.

“You’re alright, you’re fine,” you soothed. A part of you was saying that to yourself. “You’re safe, yeah? Look at me.”

The woman whirled to face you, and you shrunk back. Her eyes were striking, green flecked with yellow and brown. It looked like a galaxy.

“Safe - you…” The woman breathed, staring into your eyes. She stared for what seemed like forever, her gaze locked onto yours, searching your face for something. Then something shifted - her eyebrows quirked up, then pulled down, her face morphing from shocked to confused to mournful.

“Oh,” the woman said. “Oh no, I’m too late, am I?”

Too late for what? you wanted to ask, but the woman had shot up again, crouching like a bird on the sofa.

"Can you smell that?” she asked, then stopped, one hand coming to press against her collarbone. “No, not smell. Not hear. Feel. Can you feel…” She trailed off, her expression serious. “Stay still, Ryan.”

“What is it? What’s the matter?” he asked quickly. The woman leapt forward to pull down Ryan’s shirt slightly. She exhaled, a worried noise, and spun to face the others.

“Show me your collarbones,” she said, a touch of authority in her voice. Everyone else in the room pulled down their shirts slightly, and you gasped. Small glowing dots, pulsing with a magenta light. You’d only ever heard of those kinds of devices, whispered in the dark alleyways of alien cities, hidden under layers of conspiracy.

“Oh, you’ve all got them,” the woman breathed out, eyes wide.

“So have you,” Ryan pointed out, and the woman looked down. Another blinking light on her collarbone. She made a face.

“Yeah, I have. Okay.” The woman inhaled sharply, straightening her posture, preparing to give bad news. You knew that posture. “Really sorry. Not good news. DNA bombs.”

You rose slowly from your chair. “What?”

The woman cocked her head towards you as she walked in a circle around everyone else, her hands behind her back. “Microimplants which code to your DNA. On detonation, they disrupt the foundation of your genetic code, melting your DNA.”

“But -” you spoke, and everyone’s eyes were on you. “But those are illegal in almost every galaxy, right?”

An unspoken how did you know that hung in the air, but the woman just nodded, her lips pressed together grimly. She reached out to press against Ryan’s glowing dot. “Right.”

Ryan’s eyes widened. “How did we get them?”

“Nevermind that, are they gonna go off?” Graham asked.

The woman grimaced. “Quiet. I’m trying to think, it’s difficult -” Her expression changed, her eyes big and searching and so very new. “Brain and body still rebooting, reformatting… oh, reformatting! Can I borrow that?”

“Yeah, I guess so, but what for?”

The woman had reached over and grabbed Ryan’s phone. She was tinkering with it, her brows knit as she focused. “That creature. On the train. When you two came onboard, it zapped us all with these. Simple plan to take out witnesses. Very clever.”

“Merciless,” you piped up.

“But clever,” the woman continued. The phone beeped a few times, and the woman gasped, then held it up proudly. “I reformatted your phone!”

“No! All my stuff’s on there,” Ryan groaned, but the woman just grinned.

“Not anymore!” She said cheerfully.

She held the phone to her collarbone - there was a loud zap, then she was knocked back against the wall like she had been thrown. She looked up at everyone, gasping.

“That nap did me the world of good. Very comfy sofa,” she said, breathless. She glanced down at the phone, gasped again, and then scrambled to her feet. She yanked her coat from one of your chairs, and headed for the door - “Come on, keep up!”

Everyone stopped to stare at each other, then quickly turned to follow. You took a few steps forward, the woman still drawing you towards her - “Wait, let me come with you -”

The woman turned to face you, already halfway out of your door. She shook her head. “No.”

You frowned. “No?”

She stared for another moment, and you saw it - the familiar gleam of concern, of protectiveness that you had seen at least a billion times in another face. The way her mouth dragged downward and her eyebrows knitted together, an expression somewhere between angry and worried. Your breath caught in your throat, your outstretched hand frozen in place.

“I’m not putting you in danger again,” the woman said, determined. “I don’t know why. Think I’ll find out later. But you -” Her gaze burned you, with eyes that seemed so old and so new at the same time. “You have to be safe,” she continued. “Please. Stay put.”

It sounded like a promise. The woman glanced down at your hand while you lowered it, drawing it close to your chest.

“Okay,” you said. “Go. I won’t keep you.”

The woman nodded. “Thank you.”

And then she was gone, driving off into the night with everyone else.

You didn’t rest easy that night. Lightning flashed and crackled across the sky without any rain. You jumped every time the sky lit up - too on edge to be calm at all, too confused to try and get some rest - your hand thumbing the silver earpiece that still hung around your neck, strangely warm to the touch.

“This can’t be happening, this - stay put -”

“Please. Stay put.”

“Doctor,” you whispered.

Grace’s funeral was a few days after that.

At first glance, it didn’t seem like a funeral. The place was covered in balloons. There wasn’t a hint of melancholy in the air - the sun was shining bright through the windows of the church, not a single cloud in sight. No sign of the lightning from the days before. It was almost like the world had moved on.

You decided not to sit in the front. Tried not to think about the Grace that had brought the Doctor to your doorstep. Tried not to think about you had never thanked her for bringing her back to you. Instead you thought about happy, knowing Grace, and hoped that she could hear you, wherever she was now.

You found Ryan standing near the doors of the church. He was waiting - your heart clenched at the sight. Steeling yourself, you moved to comfort him -

And you stopped in your tracks. The Doctor walked up to him slowly, her hands in her pockets. Ryan glanced at her in acknowledgement.

“What time did your dad say he’d get here?” the Doctor asked softly.

Ryan kept on looking out, searching. “Two hours ago.”

“If he said he’ll come -” That was the Doctor, always trying to comfort -

“He says a lot of things,” Ryan said, gruffly. “He’s never been the best at being reliable. I mean how can he not be here? She’s his mum. She would have wanted him here.”

The Doctor nodded, pursing her lips. She kept that empathetic look in her eyes as she gazed up at him, not knowing what to say. That was another familiar thing that hurt. She still was so kind, still out to help others in need.

“I want him here,” Ryan finished.

That was you, once upon a time. But things had changed, and you weren’t the one that left.

The Doctor’s gaze flickered to where you were, standing just a few feet away. Your eyes met for a second, and something passed over the Doctor’s face. Recognition. Her mouth opened like she wanted to call out for you, her mouth forming over the syllables of your name -

You turned on your heel and walked away before she could see the tears forming in your eyes.

The door shuddered in its frame as you slammed it behind you. Stupid, getting emotional over her when you were supposed to be moving on like she had - your hands clamped onto the earpiece, gripping onto the small device like it was a lifeline. You hadn’t noticed that you were shaking, or that you had fallen on your knees onto the floor. You took in quick, shallow breaths, blinking the tears away like your life depended on it.

The earpiece was cold in your palms. You tried to let the feeling ground you, but even just remembering what it was made you nearly tip over the edge -

Knock knock knock.

“Yes?” Your voice was rough, and you coughed. “So - sorry, who is it?”

There were some hushed voices.

“Isn’t it so weird how they know each other?”

“Not the strangest thing anymore, after what’s happened.”

“Hush, both of you.”

Then - a soft call of your name, warm and everything you’d ever needed.

“It’s me," the Doctor said. “Could you open the door?”

You stilled, not trusting your ears. This wasn’t the triumphant reunion that you had wanted for the past year. That fantasy had faded over time. And yet there was a spark of hope in your chest, threatening to set everything alight.

The Doctor spoke again, her voice impossibly gentle and impossibly the same. “Listen -” Her voice cracked, and you bit back a sob - “I know it’s been some time, but I am so so sorry -”

That was it. You rose to your feet, red eyes and runny nose be damned, and flung the door open.

“No,” you said, your voice thick with emotion. “No, don’t start.”

The Doctor’s beautiful new eyes widened a fraction.

“Hello to you too,” she said quietly. She wasn’t as tall as she used to be - in fact, she was much shorter, so you didn’t have to crane your neck as much to take a good look at her face. She was dressed differently too, finally out of her raggedy clothes and into a new outfit that you’d say was cute, but never to her face.

You blinked up at her, sniffed, and crossed your arms over your chest. “Don’t apologize.”

The Doctor frowned slightly. “I have to, I left you behind for - oh!”

You grabbed the Doctor by her new suspenders and pulled her against you so she was flush against your chest. You buried your face in the crook of her shoulder, throwing your arms around her neck. Someone - you weren’t sure who - maybe it was Ryan - whistled, but you didn’t hear him.

It took a moment for the Doctor to let her hands rest against your back. Maybe this face wasn’t much of a hugger. But she didn’t let go, and leaned in closer so her chin rested on your shoulder.

“Let me say sorry,” she whispered. “I promised I would keep you safe, promised I’d come back for you. You trusted me, and I let you down.”

“I didn’t think you were gonna come back,” you mumbled. You shifted, letting your cheek rest against her skin. “I thought you’d left me forever and I thought - I thought -”

“Hey,” the Doctor soothed, pulling away. She brought one hand up to rest on your cheek, her thumb delicately brushing tears away, and you sniffed again. You probably looked ridiculous. “I’m here. I’m sorry I took so long.”

You nodded. “Is it still you?”

The Doctor grinned, and the way it lit up the world around her made your heart do flips. “‘Course it’s still me.” She looked down at the earpiece resting against your chest and raised her eyebrows in surprise. “You kept the communicator.”

“I - I couldn’t throw it away,” you stammered, shrugging, “sentimental value. Or I just missed you. Maybe both.”

“Oh, you,” the Doctor said, her eyes glimmering. “You won’t need it anymore.”

Your hands shot up to grab it. You raised an eyebrow at the Doctor, whose grin was just growing wider and wider. You couldn’t help it - you let a smile slip onto your face. “Why is that?”

“Because I want you to come with me. Again.” The Doctor leaned backwards on the balls of her feet, and tucked her hands firmly back into her pockets.

You felt like you’d just been kicked in the chest - all the air was suddenly gone from your lungs. Every last bit of eloquence that you’d had disappeared in an instant, and all you could manage was, “Uh.”

The Doctor smiled, a kind of nervous, polite smile. “What do you say?”

You could - take her hand and fly away with her again, like nothing had ever happened. Your gaze moved to behind her, where Graham, Ryan, and Yaz stood. They had seen this face before you did, and maybe - just maybe -

“I can’t. Besides,” you gestured to the three of them, “you don’t need me anymore.”

The Doctor turned to face the three of them, and when she turned back to face you there was an intensity in her eyes that you weren’t a stranger to. The Doctor’s brows furrowed, and you curled in on yourself - that was something the Doctor never liked, when people put themselves down - but you thought it was the truth.

The Doctor shook her head.

“Yes, I do,” she said simply. She leaned forward to press her lips against your forehead. It still felt magical. “I always have. Always will.”

She peered down at you, looking you right in the eyes, and you tried to find any sign that she was lying. Any sign that this was some kind of trick, some kind of fluke.

But there she was, her voice gentle and earnest, one hand outstretched to take you back.

You took her hand and her lips quirked up just slightly. That same spark of hope instantly blossomed into a fire, comforting like a hearth on a cold winter evening.

She led you outside, let you cross the hidden gap between a normal life and a life with her, again. Ryan, Graham and Yaz smiled as you stepped through, your hands intertwined with the Doctor’s.

“No ship, but at least I’ve got you,” the Doctor said cheerfully. Your head shot up to meet her sheepish expression, and you breathed out a laugh.

“The TARDIS? Really? Again?”

“Yep,” she replied, popping the “p” sound. You sighed deeply, but you couldn’t wipe the smile from your face.

“Oh, you definitely know each other,” Yaz said, her eyes wide with amazement.

“Well? Just like old times,” the Doctor said. “Ready?”

“Aye-aye, captain,” you chirped, and the Doctor laughed.

And when all of you got spat out in the middle of space, in the split second between life and death, you met the Doctor’s gaze and grinned. Perhaps nothing had really changed at all. Perhaps this was just a new chapter.

Geronimo.

#doctor who #doctor who x reader #eleventh doctor x reader #11th doctor x reader #eleventh doctor fanfiction #thirteenth doctor x reader #13th doctor x reader #thirteenth doctor fanfiction #doctor who fanfiction #jess writes #this is so unedited i wrote this and then posted it the next day......................... we living life on the edge boys and girls #amy pond #graham o'brien #ryan sinclaire #grace sinclaire #yasmin khan

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ucflibrary · 4 years ago

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Pride Month has arrived!

While every day is a time to be proud of your identity and orientation, June is that extra special time for boldly celebrating with and for the LGBTQIA+ community (yes, there are more than lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender folx in the queer community). June was chosen to honor the Stonewall Riots which happened in 1969. Like other celebratory months, LGBT Pride Month started as a weeklong series of events and expanded into a full month of festivities.

2021 is also the 5th anniversary of the Pulse nightclub shooting in Orlando where 49 members of our community were murdered on June 12, 2016. On the main floor of the John C. Hitt Library there will be display cases with items from the University Archives relating to Pulse memorials as well as a display wall honoring the lives lost. Both of these library memorials were created in partnership with UCF LGBTQ Services. UCF will also be hosting several events in June to help the community remember, grieve and grow stronger. Full listing of events is available on the Pulse Remembrance event calendar.

Additional Pulse memorial events will be hosted by the onePULSE Foundation. An memorial archival collection from the first anniversary of the shooting can be found as part of the Resilience: Remembering Pulse in the STARS Citizen Curator collection.

In honor of Pride Month, UCF Library faculty and staff suggested books from the UCF collection that represent a wide array of queer authors and characters. Click on the read more link below to see the full list, descriptions, and catalog links. There is also an extensive physical display on the main floor of the John C. Hitt Library near the Research & Information Desk.

All Adults Here by Emma Straub Emma Straub's unique alchemy of wisdom, humor, and insight come together in a deeply satisfying story about adult siblings, aging parents, high school boyfriends, middle school mean girls, the lifelong effects of birth order, and all the other things that follow us into adulthood, whether we like them to or not. Suggested by Rachel Mulvihill, Downtown Library

All the Young Men: a memoir of love, AIDS, and chosen family in the American South by Ruth Coker Burks & Kevin Carr O'Leary A gripping and triumphant tale of human compassion, is the true story of Ruth Coker Burks, a young single mother in Hot Springs, Arkansas, who finds herself driven to the forefront of the AIDS crisis, and becoming a pivotal activist in America’s fight against AIDS. Suggested by Megan Haught, Student Learning & Engagement/Research & Information Services

And the Band Played On: politics, people and the AIDS epidemic by Randy Shilts An international bestseller, a nominee for the National Book Critics Circle Award, and made into a critically acclaimed movie, Shilts' expose revealed why AIDS was allowed to spread unchecked during the early 80's while the most trusted institutions ignored or denied the threat. One of the few true modern classics, it changed and framed how AIDS was discussed in the following years. Suggested by Becky Hammond, Special Collections & University Archives

Big Gay Adventures in Education: supporting LGBT+ visibility and inclusion in schools edited by Daniel Tomlinson-Gray A collection of true stories by 'out' teachers, and students of 'out' teachers, all about their experiences in schools. The book aims to empower LGBT+ teachers to be the role models they needed when they were in school and help all teachers and school leaders to promote LGBT+ visibility and inclusion. Each story is accompanied by an editor’s note reflecting on the contributor’s experience and the practical implications for schools and teachers in supporting LGBT+ young people and ensuring they feel safe and included in their school communities. Suggested by Terrie Sypolt, Research & Information Services

Call Me By Your Name by André Aciman The sudden and powerful attraction between a teenage boy and a summer guest at his parents' house on the Italian Riviera has a profound and lasting influence that will mark them both for a lifetime. Suggested by Rebecca Hawk, Circulation

Fun Home: a family tragicomic by Alison Bechdel Meet Alison's father, a historic preservation expert and obsessive restorer of the family's Victorian house, a third-generation funeral home director, a high school English teacher, an icily distant parent, and a closeted homosexual who, as it turns out, is involved with male students and a family babysitter. Through narrative that is alternately heartbreaking and fiercely funny, we are drawn into a daughter's complex yearning for her father. And yet, apart from assigned stints dusting caskets at the family-owned 'fun home, ' as Alison and her brothers call it, the relationship achieves its most intimate expression through the shared code of books. When Alison comes out as homosexual herself in late adolescence, the denouement is swift, graphic, and redemptive. Suggested by Michael Furlong, UCF Connect Libraries

Gender Queer: a memoir by Maia Kobabe; colors by Phoebe Kobabe In 2014, Maia Kobabe, who uses e/em/eir pronouns, thought that a comic of reading statistics would be the last autobiographical comic e would ever write. At the time, it was the only thing e felt comfortable with strangers knowing about em. Maia's intensely cathartic autobiography charts eir journey of self-identity, which includes the mortification and confusion of adolescent crushes, grappling with how to come out to family and society, bonding with friends over erotic gay fanfiction, and facing the trauma and fundamental violation of pap smears. Started as a way to explain to eir family what it means to be nonbinary and asexual, this is more than a personal story: it is a useful and touching guide on gender identity--what it means and how to think about it--for advocates, friends, and humans everywhere. Suggested by Megan Haught, Student Learning & Engagement/Research & Information Services

Heaven's Coast: a memoir by Mark Doty The harmonious partnership of two gay men is shattered when they learn that one has tested positive for the HIV virus. Suggested by Claudia Davidson, Downtown Library

Hurricane Child by Kheryn Callender Born on Water Island in the Virgin Islands during a hurricane, which is considered bad luck, twelve-year-old Caroline falls in love with another girl--and together they set out in a hurricane to find Caroline's missing mother. Suggested by Rebecca Hawk, Circulation

Last Night at the Telegraph Club by Malinda Lo Seventeen-year-old Lily Hu can't remember exactly when the question took root, but the answer was in full bloom the moment she and Kathleen Miller walked under the flashing neon sign of a lesbian bar called the Telegraph Club. America in 1954 is not a safe place for two girls to fall in love, especially not in Chinatown. Red-Scare paranoia threatens everyone, including Chinese Americans like Lily. With deportation looming over her father--despite his hard-won citizenship--Lily and Kath risk everything to let their love see the light of day. Suggested by Claudia Davidson, Downtown Library

Laura Dean Keeps Breaking Up with Me by Mariko Tamaki & Rosemary Valero-O’Connell All Freddy Riley wants is for Laura Dean to stop breaking up with her. The day they got together was the best one of Freddy's life, but nothing's made sense since. Laura Dean is popular, funny, and SO CUTE ... but she can be really thoughtless, even mean. Their on-again, off-again relationship has Freddy's head spinning - and Freddy's friends can't understand why she keeps going back. When Freddy consults the services of a local mystic, the mysterious Seek-Her, she isn't thrilled with the advice she receives. But something's got to give: Freddy's heart is breaking in slow motion, and she may be about to lose her very best friend as well as her last shred of self-respect. Mariko Tamaki and Rosemary Valero-O'Connell bring to life a sweet and spirited tale of young love that asks us to consider what happens when we ditch the toxic relationships we crave to embrace the heathy ones we need. Suggested by Sara Duff, Acquisitions & Collections

LGBT Health: meeting the needs of gender and sexual minorities edited by K. Bryant Smalley, Jacob C. Warren, K. Nikki Barefoot A first-of-its-kind, comprehensive view of mental, medical, and public health conditions within the LGBT community. This book examines the health outcomes and risk factors that gender and sexual minority groups face while simultaneously providing evidence-based clinical recommendations and resources for meeting their health needs. Drawing from leading scholars and practitioners of LGBT health, this holistic, centralized text synthesizes epidemiologic, medical, psychological, sociological, and public health research related to the origins of, current state of, and ways to improve LGBT health. Suggested by Sandy Avila, Research & Information Services

Lived Experience: reflections on LGBTQ life by Delphine Diallo A beautiful series of full-color portraits of LGBTQ people over the age of fifty, accompanied by interviews. Suggested by Jacqui Johnson, Cataloging

Love is for Losers by Wibke Bruggemann When Phoebe's mother ditches her to work as a doctor for an international human rights organization, she is stuck living with her mom's best friend, Kate, and helping out at Kate's thrift shop. There she meet Emma. Phoebe tries to shield her head and her heart from experiencing love-- after all, love is for losers, right? Suggested by Pam Jaggernauth, Curriculum Materials Center

Man Into Woman: an authentic record of a change of sex edited by Niels Hoyer This riveting account of the transformation of the Danish painter Einar Wegener into Lili Elbe is a remarkable journey from man to woman. Einar Wegener was a leading artist in late 1920's Paris. One day his wife Grete asked him to dress as a woman to model for a portrait. It was a shattering event which began a struggle between his public male persona and emergent female self, Lili. Einar was forced into living a double life; enjoying a secret hedonist life as Lili, with Grete and a few trusted friends, whilst suffering in public as Einar, driven to despair and almost to suicide. Doctors, unable to understand his condition, dismissed him as hysterical. Lili eventually forced Einar to face the truth of his being - he was, in fact, a woman. This bizarre situation took an extraordinary turn when it was discovered that his body contained primitive female sex organs. There followed a series of dangerous experimental operations and a confrontation with the conventions of the age until Lili was eventually liberated from Einar - a freedom that carried the ultimate price. Suggested by Richard Harrison, Research & Information Services

On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous by Ocean Vuong This is a letter from a son to a mother who cannot read. Written when the speaker, Little Dog, is in his late twenties, the letter unearths a family's history that began before he was born -- a history whose epicenter is rooted in Vietnam -- and serves as a doorway into parts of his life his mother has never known, all of it leading to an unforgettable revelation. At once a witness to the fraught yet undeniable love between a single mother and her son, it is also a brutally honest exploration of race, class, and masculinity. Suggested by Rachel Mulvihill, Downtown Library

Queer Objects edited by Chris Brickell & Judith Collard Queer lives give rise to a vast array of objects: the things we fill our houses with, the gifts we share with our friends, the commodities we consume at work and at play, the clothes and accessories we wear, various reminders of state power, as well as the analogue and digital technologies we use to communicate with one another. But what makes an object queer? 63 chapters consider this question in relation to lesbian, gay and transgender communities across time, cultures and space. In this unique international collaboration, well-known and newer writers traverse world history to write about items ranging from ancient Egyptian tomb paintings and Roman artefacts to political placards, snapshots, sex toys and the smartphone. Suggested by Megan Haught, Student Learning & Engagement/Research & Information Services

Real Life by Brandon Taylor A novel of rare emotional power that excavates the social intricacies of a late-summer weekend -- and a lifetime of buried pain. Almost everything about Wallace, an introverted African-American transplant from Alabama, is at odds with the lakeside Midwestern university town where he is working toward a biochem degree. For reasons of self-preservation, Wallace has enforced a wary distance even within his own circle of friends -- some dating each other, some dating women, some feigning straightness. But a series of confrontations with colleagues, and an unexpected encounter with a young straight man, conspire to fracture his defenses, while revealing hidden currents of resentment and desire that threaten the equilibrium of their community. Suggested by Sara Duff, Acquisitions & Collections

Riley Can’t Stop Crying by Stephanie Boulay While his sister tries everything to help, a young boy isn't sure why he can't stop crying in this transitional picture book. Suggested by Pam Jaggernauth, Curriculum Materials Center

Supporting Success for LGBTQ+ Students: tools for inclusive campus practice by Cindy Ann Kilgo This book aims to serve as a one-stop resource for faculty and staff in higher education settings who are seeking to enhance their campus climate and systems of support for LGBTQ+ student success. Included are theoretical frameworks and conceptual models that can be used in practice. Suggested by Terrie Sypolt, Research & Information Services

The City and the Pillar: a novel by Gore Vidal Jim, a handsome, all-American athlete, has always been shy around girls. But when he and his best friend, Bob, partake in “awful kid stuff,” the experience forms Jim’s ideal of spiritual completion. Defying his parents’ expectations, Jim strikes out on his own, hoping to find Bob and rekindle their amorous friendship. Along the way he struggles with what he feels is his unique bond with Bob and with his persistent attraction to other men. Upon finally encountering Bob years later, the force of his hopes for a life together leads to a devastating climax. The first novel of its kind to appear on the American literary landscape, this remains a forthright and uncompromising portrayal of sexual relationships between men. Suggested by Richard Harrison, Research & Information Services

The Invisible Orientation: an introduction to asexuality by Julie Sondra Decker Julie Sondra Decker outlines what asexuality is, counters misconceptions, provides resources, and puts asexual people's experiences in context as they move through a sexualized world. It includes information for asexual people to help understand their orientation and what it means for their relationships, as well as tips and facts for those who want to understand their asexual friends and loved ones. Suggested by Dawn Tripp, Research & Information Services

The New Testament by Jericho Brown The world of Jericho Brown's second book, disease runs through the body, violence runs through the neighborhood, memories run through the mind, trauma runs through generations. Almost eerily quiet in even the bluntest of poems, Brown gives us the ache of a throat that has yet to say the hardest thing-and the truth is coming on fast. Suggested by Claudia Davidson, Downtown Library

The Prophets by Robert Jones With a lyricism reminiscent of Toni Morrison, Robert Jones, Jr., fiercely summons the voices of slaver and enslaved alike, from Isaiah and Samuel to the calculating slave master to the long line of women that surround them, women who have carried the soul of the plantation on their shoulders. As tensions build and the weight of centuries—of ancestors and future generations to come—culminates in a climactic reckoning, masterfully reveals the pain and suffering of inheritance, but is also shot through with hope, beauty, and truth, portraying the enormous, heroic power of love. Suggested by Rachel Mulvihill, Downtown Library

The Ship We Built by Lexie Bean A fifth-grader whose best friends walked away, whose mother is detached, and whose father does unspeakable things, copes with the help of friend Sofie and anonymous letters tied to balloons and released. Includes a list of resources related to abuse, gender, sexuality, and more. Suggested by Pam Jaggernauth, Curriculum Materials Center

Tinderbox: the untold story of the Up Stairs Lounge fire and the rise of gay liberation by Robert W. Fieseler Buried for decades, the Up Stairs Lounge tragedy has only recently emerged as a catalyzing event of the gay liberation movement. In revelatory detail, Robert W. Fieseler chronicles the tragic event that claimed the lives of thirty-one men and one woman on June 24, 1973, at a New Orleans bar, the largest mass murder of gays until 2016. Relying on unprecedented access to survivors and archives, Fieseler creates an indelible portrait of a closeted, blue- collar gay world that flourished before an arsonist ignited an inferno that destroyed an entire community. The aftermath was no less traumatic--families ashamed to claim loved ones, the Catholic Church refusing proper burial rights, the city impervious to the survivors' needs--revealing a world of toxic prejudice that thrived well past Stonewall. Yet the impassioned activism that followed proved essential to the emergence of a fledgling gay movement. Fieseler restores honor to a forgotten generation of civil-rights martyrs. Suggested by Andy Todd, UCF Connect Libraries

Transgender: a reference handbook by Aaron Devor and Ardel Haefele-Thomas This book provides a crucial resource for readers who are investigating trans issues. It takes a diverse and historic approach, focusing on more than one idea or one experience of trans identity or trans history. The book takes contemporary as well as historic aspects into consideration. It looks at ancient indigenous cultures that honored third, fourth, and fifth gender identities as well as more contemporary ideas of what "transgender" means. Notably, it focuses not only on Western medical ideas of gender affirmation but on cultural diversity surrounding the topic. This book will primarily serve as a reference guide and jumping off point for further research for those seeking information about what it means to be transgender. Suggested by Richard Harrison, Research & Information Services

Transnational LGBT Activism: working for sexual rights worldwide by Ryan R. Thoreson Thoreson argues that the idea of LGBT human rights is not predetermined but instead is defined by international activists who establish what and who qualifies for protection. He shows how International Gay and Lesbian Human Rights Commission (IGLHRC) formed and evolved, who is engaged in this work, how they conceptualize LGBT human rights, and how they have institutionalized their views at the United Nations and elsewhere. After a full year of in-depth research in New York City and Cape Town, South Africa, Thoreson is able to reconstruct IGLHRC’s early campaigns and highlight decisive shifts in the organization’s work from its founding to the present day. Suggested by Sandy Avila, Research & Information Services

Upright Women Wanted by Sarah Gailey Esther is a stowaway. She's hidden herself away in the Librarian's book wagon in an attempt to escape the marriage her father has arranged for her--a marriage to the man who was previously engaged to her best friend. Her best friend who she was in love with. Her best friend who was just executed for possession of resistance propaganda. The future American Southwest is full of bandits, fascists, and queer librarian spies on horseback trying to do the right thing. Suggested by Sara Duff, Acquisitions & Collections

Walt Whitman's Songs of Male Intimacy and Love: "Live oak, with moss" and "Calamus" edited by Betsy Erkkila This volume includes Whitman's handwritten manuscript version of the twelve "Live oak, with moss" poems along side with a print transcription of these poems on the opposite page, followed by a facsimile of the original version of the "Calamus" poems published in the 1860-61 edition of Leaves of grass, and a reprint of the final version of the "Calamus" poems in the 1881 edition of Leaves of grass. Suggested by Rebecca Hawk, Circulation

#ucf library #lgbtqia+ pride #featured bookshelf #one pulse

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fangirlshrewt97 · 5 years ago

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DuckTales Fic - Hey Brother, I’m Back!

Author(s): Fangirlshrewt97

Fandom: DuckTales (2017)

Pairing: Della Duck & Donald Duck

Characters: Della Duck, Donald Duck, Scrooge McDuck, Mrs. Beakley, Others mentioned

Rating: Teen and Up (1 swear word)

Warnings: None

Additional Tags: Sibling bonding, Reunion, Late Night Conversations, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, Banned Together Bingo 2020, Prompt: Talking Animals

Summary: My take on Della and Donald’s conversation post-reunion

“I thought you were dead.” His tone was flat, eyes hard, fists clenched.

That shut her up.

Link to A03: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24550339

/////

It was nearing midnight when the Duck Family finally retired for the day, each exhausted after a packed day of reunions, failed plans, and a Moon invasion. Those didn’t happen every day after all. Launchpad had offered to take the moon people to one of Scrooge’s safe houses until they were able to integrate into Earth’s society or decided to return to the moon.

Or rather, most members of the Duck family went to sleep. Della tucked her children into bed as had become the routine ever since her return from the Moon. It was a long process that involved them clinging to her and her clinging back. These were her babies, the ones she had missed, yearned to hold, fought so fiercely to come back to. It didn’t matter what had happened that day, what fight or adventure, or mundane squabble they might have had. Bedtime was sacred. She tasted the regret of every second she had missed of their lives bitterly on her tongue. She never hurried bedtime, stretching it to the last possible second, and staying until all three were asleep, just watching over them.

But tonight, Della left as soon as her sons were tuckered out, which was pretty quick, considering they were asleep the second their heads hit the pillow. She quietly closed the door to their room, gently leaning her head against the wood, breathing in the reality. Assuring herself that the ground beneath her foot was real, the smooth wood under fingertips too.

She stepped away and turned to look out the corridor, walking towards a destination without ever realizing it.

As she reached the attic, a chill breeze blew past her, and a smile started to form on her face. Making her way through the familiar hoard of treasure and trash Uncle Scrooge kept up here, Della made her way up the hidden stairs at the end of the room. The steps up the roof were slightly dusty out of disuse, and she briefly wondered if the boys realized there were stairs beyond the attic.The air was even cooler once she got to the roof. Muscle memory guided her feet as she reached the little alcove above the attic window that gave them a safe perch to sit on.

“I had a feeling you’d be up here.”

Donald’s nod was barely perceptible. He stayed quiet until she settled down comfortably, and shared a minute of silence.

Then “I stopped talking to Uncle Scrooge after you disappeared. Stopped coming to see him. Stopped visiting this house. I didn’t regret that, I was mad at him. What I did miss was this spot.” Donald’s voice was clear, but the pain was even clearer to Della.

Della felt a weight on her chest. “Don-”

“I thought you were dead.” His tone was flat, eyes hard, fists clenched.

That shut her up.

“I hoped and waited for so long, Della will come back, Della always comes back, she is the best of us.” Tears gathered at Donald’s eyes, slowly started to pour down his cheeks. “But you didn’t. And I wanted- I wanted to drown my sorrows, I wanted to build a rocket and bury myself among the stars with you, I wanted-” Donald hiccuped as he curled his fingers into a tight fist. His voice was shaking with anger.

Della felt her own tears racing down her cheek.

“I wanted to find you Della. Or I wanted to die trying. All I knew was that I couldn’t live in a world without you in it.” Donald hiccuped again as he rubbed at his eyes. “The only thing that kept me here, kept me sane, were your hatchlings.”

“I spent every second I wasn’t with you trying to get back to all of you.” Della whispered.

Donald turned to finally face his sister, looking her in the eye. “I know you did. I know it in my bones. But that still doesn’t erase the fact that you left Della. I know you didn’t mean to get stranded. Or to take so long to get back. But for so long.” Donald cleared his throat, rubbing at his eyes with his sleeve before taking Della’s hand in his.

“So long I was angry. I was sad. But mostly I was lonely. I was raising my nephews and it was so unfair. They should have had you. The first face they saw when they hatched was you. When Dewey said his first word, it should have been ‘Mom’. When I finally managed to coax Louie to eat that damn banana, you should have been with me to cheer. When Huey took his first steps, you should have been the first to catch him. And it.” Donald choked. “It is all so, so, so fucking unfair Della.”

Della bit her lip, closing her eyes and letting the pain she had been pushing away all these years to finally break, and soon she was heaving sobs. She felt her brother envelop her in a hug so tight it must have been hurting him too, but the twins clutched each other tight, letting go of over a decade’s worth of pain together. “When I saw the Spear crash site, I thought I was dreaming. I called out for you, so happy you had made it home, relieved, I had been right. My sister had found her way back home even from the stars.” Della sobbed harder, and Donald rubbed her back comfortingly.

“Of course then I accidentally wound up on the moon, but that’s a story for another day.” He joked. Della just sniffled.

Donald held her until Della’s cries petered out, replaced with small hiccups. Donald started to move away only to be pulled closer to Della as she grabbed his arm and held it in place around her. When he settled behind her, she leaned on his shoulder.

“When I was up there, everyday, every single day, I was trying to get home Donald. To them. And to you. I wanted to see all those things, and I could picture it all so clearly in my head. But you know what I never had to worry about?”

When Donald stayed silent, Della turned her head to look him in the eyes.

“I knew that no matter how long it took me to get home, you would be with the boys. I am so sorry I put you through all this, for thinking I was dead.” Della felt her voice crack at the next part. “But thank you. Donald, thank you so much for raising them. You have done such a good job. Probably better-”

“Shut up Della.” Donald interrupted, voice equally annoyed and fond. “Just. What did you think I was going to do with them? Abandon them? They are my kids too Della. I consider them my kids, not my nephews. Every day, I was so scared I was not doing right by you, that I was messing things up, and it would have been better if you had been here.”

“You would never abandon them Donald. But you did not have to make them your responsibility either. And that is something I am never going to be able to repay you for. You are a wonderful dad to them Donald, and I am so proud of them all. I can see so much of myself in them, and I know that is because of you.”

“I would never have let them forget you.” Donald said sincerely.

Della gulped again, rubbing her eyes hard to stop herself from crying again.

“I missed you so much.”

“Me too Dell, me too.”

Della laughed a wet laugh.

“You’re the only one who calls me that.”

“I’m the only one allowed to call you that!” Donald replied, faux indignation flooding his voice.

Della laughed again, hard enough to make her belly hurt. By the time she quietened, Donald was looking at her fondly.

“Yeah you are Donny.”

Donald started to quack in real indignation this time, setting Della off again.

The two stayed up for a little longer, long enough to see colour start to flood the horizon again before they got up and made their way to Della’s bedroom.

She was not ready to part with her brother just yet.

///

Come morning, Scrooge was making his daily round through the mansion, enjoying the short while the place was still asleep. As he walked past Della’s room, he saw the door was slightly ajar, so went to close it, only to pause when he caught a glance at the scene.

There, in Della’s queen size bed, the twins were curled up close together, in the same position Scrooge remembered seeing so very often when they were wee kids, running around and causing havoc in his house. He’d even bet a dollar that they were holding hands in between them.

Feeling a newly-becoming-familiar warmth flood his heart, Scrooge stood for a few minutes just watching them, a fond smile over his face. A cough from the end of the hallway had Scrooge closing the door loudly in surprise, only to find Beakley at the end of the hallway with a knowing look in her eyes.

“Your whole family is back under one roof Sir.”

Scrooge cleared his throat, straightening his back even as he felt the strangest urge to sink to his knees in relief and happiness. “So they are. I think it deserves a celebratory breakfast doesn’t?”

Beakley bowed her head slightly. “I’ll get started on it right away.”

Saying so, she moved away, heading towards the kitchen.

Scrooge cracked the door open just the tiniest gap to see both Donald and Della were still fast asleep, and then walked back to his room to start his day, a feeling of complete contentment making him feel like he was floating.

#my fic #ducktales fic #bannedtogetherbingo2020 #bannedtogether2020 #della duck #donald duck #scrooge mcduck #let me know what you think!

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romancatholicreflections · 6 years ago

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8th March >> Fr. Martin’s Gospel Reflections / Homilies on Matthew 9:14-15 for Friday after Ash Wednesday: ‘The time will come for the bridegroom to be taken away.’

Friday after Ash Wednesday

Gospel (Europe, Africa, New Zealand, Australia & Canada)

Matthew 9:14-15

When the bridegroom is taken from them, then they will fast

John’s disciples came to Jesus and said, ‘Why is it that we and the Pharisees fast, but your disciples do not?’ Jesus replied, ‘Surely the bridegroom’s attendants would never think of mourning as long as the bridegroom is still with them? But the time will come for the bridegroom to be taken away from them, and then they will fast.’

Gospel (USA)

Matthew 9:14-15

When the bridegroom is taken from them, then they will fast.

The disciples of John approached Jesus and said, “Why do we and the Pharisees fast much, but your disciples do not fast?” Jesus answered them, “Can the wedding guests mourn as long as the bridegroom is with them? The days will come when the bridegroom is taken away from them, and then they will fast.”

Reflections (5)

(i) Friday after Ash Wednesday

In today’s gospel reading, Jesus affirms the value of the Jewish practice of fasting for his followers. ‘The time will come for the bridegroom to be taken away from them, and then they will fast’, he says. Jesus is looking ahead to the time after his death and resurrection. He declares that beyond that time fasting will be appropriate for his disciples, but not during his public ministry which is equivalent to the joy of a wedding feast. In today’s first reading, Isaiah declares that fasting must be in the service of just relationships with others. He speaks of a fast that breaks unjust fetters, that leads to sharing our bread with the hungry and sheltering the homeless poor. Fasting can seem like something negative, a saying ‘no’ to something that can be good in itself, but, the prophet reminds us that this ‘no’ is always in the service of a more generous ‘yes’ to the Lord and his people, especially his most vulnerable people. We deny ourselves so that others can live more fully. We have become more aware in recent times that we need to say ‘no’ to others, to fast, so that our natural environment can also live more fully. Pope Francis reminds us of our responsibility to our environment in his wonderful encyclical ‘Laudato Sii’. We deny ourselves not only for the sake of others but for the sake of our natural environment. The Pope expresses this bond we have with all of creation very beautifully in that encyclical, ‘Everything is related, and we human beings are united as brothers and sisters on a wonderful pilgrimage, woven together by the love God has for each of his creatures, and which also unites us in fond affection with brother sun, sister moon, brother river and mother earth’

And/Or

(ii) Friday after Ash Wednesday

Both readings this morning speak of fasting, one of the traditional Lenten practices. We tend to think of fasting in relation to food. To fast is to deprive ourselves of certain foods for a period of time. In the first reading, however, Isaiah defines fasting much more broadly than that. He understands it as fasting from all those ways of relating to people that damage and oppress them and replacing such ways of relating with working for justice on behalf of those in greatest need. Isaiah seems to be saying that fasting can never be separated from that other Jewish practice that we associate with Lent, almsgiving, the sharing of our resources with others. On Ash Wednesday the gospel reading put before us the three great Lenten disciplines of prayer, fasting and almsgiving. Isaiah reminds us this morning that all three stand or fall together. They are three expressions of one way of life. We cannot focus on any one to the detriment of the other two. Fasting is saying ‘no’ to something. Isaiah reminds us that such saying ‘no’ is always with a view to saying ‘yes’, a ‘yes’ that finds expression in greater service of our neighbour. Such service of others makes our prayer more acceptable to God. In the words of our first reading, ‘Cry, and the Lord will answer; call and he will say, “I am here”’.

And/Or

(iii) Friday after Ash Wednesday

In the first reading Isaiah makes a strong connection between fasting and almsgiving and working for justice. The kind of fasting that pleases God, according to Isaiah, is one finds expression in feeding the hungry, sheltering the homeless, letting the oppressed go free. We fast so as to be freer to give ourselves in the service of others. In the gospel reading Jesus affirms the value of fasting for the period after his death and resurrection. He too linked fasting and almsgiving closely together and he linked both with prayer, as was clear from the gospel reading that we read for Ash Wednesday. Within the Christian vision, fasting or abstaining is not about losing weight. Rather it is about become free of what is not essential so as to be able to give ourselves more fully in love to God and to our neighbour. We all have something to fast from; it may not necessarily be food or drink. We all have something to let go off so that we can be more available to the Lord for his work in the world. There may be something that absorbs us too much and that blocks our relationship with God and with others, especially those who need us most. Lent is a time when we ask for the grace to fast and step away from whatever that is holding us back, and hindering us from being all that God is calling us to be.

And/Or

(iv) Friday after Ash Wednesday

Jesus’ words in the gospel reading suggest that there is a time to fast and a time not to fast. He speaks of himself as the bridegroom, suggesting that his ministry is like a joyful wedding feast, when the divine bridegroom reaches out in love through Jesus to his bride, God’s people. There is no place for fasting at a wedding feast. There is no need for the bridegroom’s attendants, his disciples, to fast. However, alluding to his forthcoming death, he declares that the bridegroom will be taken away from his attendants and that will be an appropriate time to fast. In the words of Qoheleth in the Jewish Scriptures, ‘there is a time for every matter under heaven’, and we could add to his list, ‘a time to fast and a time not to fast’. Lent has traditionally been understood as a time to fast. It is a time when we identify with Jesus on his way to Jerusalem, the city of his passion and death, the city where he was taken away from his disciples. The first reading from Isaiah reminds us that our fasting is always to be linked to one of the other traditional Lenten practices, almsgiving or service of the needy. According to that reading, our fasting is in the service of letting the oppressed go free, feeding the hungry, sheltering the hungry and clothing the naked. We die to ourselves so as to give to others. We deprive ourselves so as to become more sensitive to those who are deprived and to serve them from our resources.

And/Or

(v) Friday after Ash Wednesday

The gospels suggest that people often asked Jesus the question, ‘Why?’ In particular, the religious leaders asked him why he was doing this or that or not doing this or that. There was clearly something new and different about the ministry of Jesus which gave rise to this repeated question, ‘Why?’ In this morning’s gospel reading, it is the disciples of John the Baptist who ask the question ‘Why?’ They wonder why Jesus and his disciples do not follow the fasting practices of the disciples of John the Baptist and of the Pharisees. In the gospel reading for Ash Wednesday, Jesus affirmed the value of the key Jewish practices of fasting, prayer and almsgiving, provided they are not done to attract attention. In this morning’s gospel reading, he indicates that the celebratory aspect of his ministry means that fasting cannot have the same significance as it does for the disciples of the Pharisees and John the Baptist. Jesus’ ministry is more like a wedding feast than a funeral, with himself as the bridegroom and his disciples as the bride. Jesus goes on to say that this celebratory element of his ministry does not exclude fasting. However, it does give it a different tone and focus. That celebratory element of the Lord’s ministry continues today in the church. The risen Lord wants his joy to be in our lives, a joy the world cannot give. Our fasting is with a view to entering more fully into the Lord’s joy; it is in the service of deepening our loving relationship with the Lord so that the joy of his Spirit may be in our lives. As Isaiah in the first reading reminds us, and as Jesus would confirm, our fasting is also in the service of a more loving relationship with others, especially those in greatest need.

Fr. Martin Hogan, Saint John the Baptist Parish, Clontarf, Dublin, D03 AO62, Ireland.

Email: [email protected] or [email protected]

Parish Website: www.stjohnsclontarf.ie Please join us via our webcam.

Twitter: @SJtBClontarfRC.

Facebook: St John the Baptist RC Parish, Clontarf.

Tumblr: Saint John the Baptist Parish, Clontarf, Dublin.

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frmartinshomiliesandreflections · 5 years ago

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28th February >> Fr. Martin’s Gospel Reflections / Homilies on Matthew 9:14-15 for Friday after Ash Wednesday: ‘The time will come for the bridegroom to be taken away’.

Friday after Ash Wednesday

Gospel (Europe, Africa, New Zealand, Australia & Canada)

Matthew 9:14-15

When the bridegroom is taken from them, then they will fast

Gospel (USA)

Matthew 9:14-15

When the bridegroom is taken from them, then they will fast.

Reflections (6)

(i) Friday after Ash Wednesday

And/Or

(ii) Friday after Ash Wednesday

And/Or

(iii) Friday after Ash Wednesday

And/Or

(iv) Friday after Ash Wednesday

And/Or

(v) Friday after Ash Wednesday

And/Or

(vi) Friday after Ash Wednesday

There are only two days of fast and abstinence in Lent, Ash Wednesday and Good Friday. Yet, many people chose to fast from some form of food or drink for the season of Lent. According to the gospel reading, Jesus’ disciples were criticized by the disciples of John the Baptist for not fasting in the way they did. John the Baptist was a more austere man than Jesus. Jesus once referred to John the Baptist as one who had come eating no bread and drinking no wine, and to himself as the Son of Man who came eating and drinking. It seems that neither Jesus or his disciples were as much into fasting as John the Baptist and his disciples. There was something more celebratory about Jesus’ ministry in comparison to the ministry of John the Baptist. In the gospel reading, Jesus speaks of himself as the bridegroom and his disciples as the bridegroom’s attendants. Jesus’ life and ministry had something of the celebratory quality of a wedding, and who fasts at a wedding? Yet, Jesus also acknowledges that a time will come when fasting will be appropriate, ‘the time will come…’ Jesus is looking ahead there to the time of the church. When we fast from some food or drink, we are showing that it is not vitally important to us, that we are not dependent upon it. What really matters to us is our relationship with the Lord. We fast so as to as to grow in our relationship with the Lord. In the first reading, Isaiah links fasting to our relationship with those in greatest need. We fast so as to be freer to respond to the call of those who most need our help. Fasting is always in the service of our love of the Lord and our love of others. If fasting is a saying ‘no’ to something, it is always with a view to our making a more generous ‘yes’ to the Lord and his people.

Fr. Martin Hogan, Saint John the Baptist Parish, Clontarf, Dublin, D03 AO62, Ireland.

Email: [email protected] or [email protected]

Parish Website: www.stjohnsclontarf.ie Please join us via our webcam.

Twitter: @SJtBClontarfRC.

Facebook: St John the Baptist RC Parish, Clontarf.

Tumblr: Saint John the Baptist Parish, Clontarf, Dublin.

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seven-oomen · 5 years ago

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So today’s moments of random thoughts (and attempts at including links) are brought to you by the fact that today they replaced the back office computer at work that controls the store’s music, so it was uncomfortably silent for several hours, meaning that my brain suddenly had to provide the soundtrack again, and that’s always a total craps shoot. Will it be 48 hours straight of “Toss A Coin To Your Witcher��? Will it be some surreal all day medley of AC/DC, Rihanna, and the South Park version of “Pokerface”? Will it be a non-stop Disney sing-a-long? Who knows? Everyday is an adventure with an ADD brain jukebox.

One of today’s tracks of choice was “Little Red Riding Hood” by Sam the Sham and the Pharaohs, a favorite since long before I was old enough to understand the implications or subtext. And since you enjoyed the last terrible porn scenario so much, why not throw out another classic? Because there is NO WAY they haven’t done this one. Like. Just no way. Oh no, will the brave and daring young hunter woodsman manage to subdue the wily Alpha wolf, or will poor innocent Omega Riding Hood be devoured by the lustful lupine? (I think the only correct answer here is yes to both.) And because part of me wondered if such a thing even existed (I just had to know if I could bring in the plaid), I searched Google and found this (for a more casual approach) or this (for if they’re feeling fancy) for Noah, preferably paired with some tall black combat boots, perhaps (also, just saying, both would be a great option for a chase night). For “Grandma”, I was thinking something along these lines (theoretically demure, yet also highlighting the collar bones, especially if unbuttoned slightly and allowed to slide off one shoulder. Perhaps in the blue to bring out his eyes. XD ) because it comes across innocent in all the ways Peter would very much not be at that point. All Chris would really need is his tightest jeans, deepest v’d henley, and maybe a nice denim or suede trucker jacket. (Have I spent WAY too much time thinking about this? Probably, but in my defense it kept me from snapping at all the idiots out without masks who refused to properly distance. So.) And because why the hell, not, I haven’t confused my Google search enough yet, here’s a couple of options for Chris that are a little more classy, as far as such a thing can apply to an outfit like this. I mean if the other two are getting nice, quality outfits in that scenario, dammit he deserves the same.

Oh, and to briefly segue it back towards the more serious (and god, I really hope this comes out the way I mean it to, I am legit terrible at trying to word stuff like this), I would just like to say that frankly this version of how the physical/biological/however you want to phrase it aspects of the male/female vs alpha/omega spectrums play out makes so much more sense than a majority of the a/b/o I’ve seen. I may not read it often, but I’ve been in fandom too long (and in a few too many small ones) not to have read a fair amount. There have been a number of times where I just end up going “…his body has/did what now?…" Whereas with yours it’s just like "oh, cool, that makes total sense”. It’s natural, logical, and easy to understand, unlike my first few experiences back in the day when I kept having to Google the whole Omegaverse concept (a TERRIBLE idea, btw) to try and figure out how things worked. So, yeah, I, at least, am a fan of this variation/interpretation/whatever.

Anyway…having hopefully managed to avoid cramming my whole entire foot into my mouth, would you care for some more assorted headcanons? Maybe one day Stiles and Noah are in the attic working on sorting and organizing some things (Stiles is about 14 or 15 at this point), and after going through a couple boxes of Claudia’s sketchbooks, he finds one that contains a few mangled pairs of fishnets, a mesh shirt or two, maybe a pair of extremely short black cutoffs, some studded bracelets and collars, and he’s just like “man, Mom was a little more hardcore than I would have guessed." After a couple moments of pointed silence, Noah finally offers ”…that’s not your Mom’s stuff, Stiles" while very determinedly not looking his son’s direction. Cue a hysterical sequence of microexpressions of shock and horror contorting Stiles’ face, culminating in a brief full body flail and ending with him shaking his head with all the intense desperation of someone trying to clear an Etch-A-Sketch, before he just quietly goes back to sorting through the other boxes and they just never speak of it again. Alternately, I would accept this same scenario for Chris and Allison (thinking the box had belonged to Kate), because I feel she would have the next best reaction faces to Stiles (less grimacing, but more internal screaming), with basically the same end result. Or perhaps both had an incident like this, and they use it as some sort of bonding moment. They’re an odd family after all.

Don’t think I didn’t notice that the preview changed again. Just going straight for the feels this time, huh? God, poor Peter. I feel so bad that he’s missing out on all the cuddles (familial and romantic), but I’m sure they’ll all be more than willing to make it up to him later. Really hope he was doing that super speed thing on the way back to the hospital, or the Sheriff’s station might get some strange reports of a naked man running through neighborhoods.

On the subject of the kids and education, I would vote BioChem for Allison. It would be useful in learning about all the stuff hunters use, and figuring out ways to combat them, as well as potentially offering some overlap with Lydia’s degree.

I’d vote Criminal Law for Jackson. It would be both a nod to his adoptive dad in the show having been the D.A. and offer a connection to the traditions of the family he’s just now learning about. And I suspect that it’s entirely possible that if Stiles went after a Criminal Justice degree (or similar, I’m not entirely sure what it would be called), they’d likely have some overlapping classes, which would just piss Stiles all the hell off. So win-win, really.

I think Malia could do really well with either type of Engineering. I want to lean more towards Mechanical, particularly for the auto repair aspect, but part of me really wants Electrical for the Ant-Man connection (speaking of high Intelligence, low Wisdom…) I think she would hate it while she was getting the degree (WHY DID NO ONE WARN ME THERE’D BE SO MUCH MATH???!!!), she’d be so proud once she’d graduated. I feel like I could see Derek partnering with her on the shop (he’s working on a Master’s in Business. Anything Law just felt too close to what he’d lost, but he also couldn’t bear to stray too far. So, business. Eventually I think he’d join in with the artsy side of the family and go after a degree in Design, so he could help build up the shop that way, as well.)

Totally agree on the other two. I can also totally see Kira and Malia coaching some sort of intramural sport for kids one day. Soccer (football), Little League, Lacrosse, doesn’t matter which. They absolutely love it, and the kids love them (they totally get the smaller Pack kids involved, too). Eventually they talk Isaac into creating a team for some of his kids that are looking to socialize more (they make sure that the experience is 100% positive for any of them that play. They refuse to tolerate any bullying or poor sportsmanship of any kind.)

Hmm…not sure about the others, either, but I like the idea of Boyd ending up as a professor of Mythology and Folklore. He was the one that actually thought about whether he wanted the bite, and whether it would be worth it in the long run. He seemed the most interested in the reality of being a werewolf. I can see him learning as much as he can about the supernatural from Peter and Noah (and some of the other side of things from Chris), and utilizing that in getting his degree (and eventual Doctorate). And let’s face it, after dealing with the Pack’s shenanigans over the years, college kids aren’t intimidating in the slightest.

And before I forget, may I just say that “People buy it because it’s Tumblr, why wouldn’t two gay dads run a wolf rescue?” had me laughing so hard I started snorting. Moving on; I know you recently shared a post that featured shots from the episode where Stiles gets his dad drunk to distract him from reopening the Hale case (I have Opinions about that black shirt, and how disappointed I was that it Never Showed Up Again, so I notice when it pops up in Tumblrs I check, okay? Don’t judge me.), and some of the other blogs I try to keep up with have shared some pics of J.R. in glasses, and now I can’t help but wonder if that becomes like a Thing for Peter at some point. Like, once they start to get a little older (once Chris has grown out his beard again, and maybe Noah has retired [my uncle was a cop and retired in like his mid-forties, I think] and started letting his hair get just a bit shaggy again) and his husbands start occasionally wearing glasses for reading, or fine detail work, etc. (I would not judge him if it did, because, uh…, hard same. I blame too many years of anime.) Like, they slip them on and his brain just immediately starts going to more terrible porn scenarios. Stern librarian, called to the principal/headmaster’s office, courtroom shenanigans. Actually, if Peter is supposed to have been a lawyer they probably do that one anyway. The Prosecution and the Defense take turns attempting to sway the Judge/Jury Foreman in their favor. Who is who just depends on their mood at the time, and who feels willing to put on a suit (god help Peter if he gets both his mates in well cut suits and at their persuasive best. He can barely keep it together long enough to stay halfway in character. They are fully aware of their power, and file the information away for use in anniversary/graduation/other celebratory settings.) Wow…that kinda got away from me. Again.

Anyway, I tried to do the reader poll thing, hope my responses went through/made sense. Hope the assorted links I’ve attempted work, I’ve never tried adding them to something before. I probably still have the tabs open if I need to try again, unless my computer randomly decides to close them, which I have had it occasionally do. Glad that you are feeling somewhat better, and that it doesn’t appear to be anything serious (and possibly even somewhat positive, in the long run, at least? If it’s a sign of things trying to heal?) Sorry in advance if some of this makes assisting customers difficult tomorrow. XD I feel like it should just be implicit, like my brain just compels it’s own warning in general.

I think I’ve read through this at least ten times because it’s just so good. I don’t really have the energy to reply to everything, but I do want to leave you with some headcanons of my own.

Mainly Hogwarts houses:

Ravenclaw: Lydia, Melissa, Natalie, Julio, Stiles

Gryffindor: Noah, Derek, Kira, Allison, Boyd

Hufflepuff: Scott, Chris, Jordan, Ben, Isaac

Slytherin: Malia, Jackson, Peter, Danny, Erica

Ben’s super cute playfulness as a wolf pup

Peter definitely wears a pair of wolf ears during sex, although he’s a little sad that he can’t mark up Chris and Noah as he used to. He liked to bite hard and draw blood, but with him as an Alpha, that’s just not an option anymore. Although there are plenty of other ways he can mark them up and he enjoys finding new ways. Even if they’re not as visual and permanent.

Peter also makes time for each of his kids and enjoys being a father. He revels in the role and loves reading bedtime stories to his younger kids, PTA meetings (he rises to the top of the rank really quickly, starts a turf war with a Karen but gets backed up by Mack’s mom. So it’s all cool.) And With his older kids he finds new ways to guide them through life as young adults. He’s there for every homework assignment, every break-up, every report card, and all the little moments he’s had to miss out on.

Also when Noah is pregnant, he’s closely monitored by Melissa and his licensed midwife. (He’s given birth to Malia and Stiles at home, he’s planning to do it again. Chris too, only has had homebirths, although Ben had to be rushed to the hospital because the doofus swallowed amniotic fluid during birth and turned blue after ten minutes. (Which is based on a true story, my brother had that complication after homebirth. Homebirths are very common in my country which is why I put them in my fics.)) And Peter and Chris go into protective overdrive. He keeps working for as long as he can but at four months pregnant with twins, he has to take a step back and only work desk duty until he’s 7.5 months along. He takes some time off after that and gets time to recuperate and rest.

Chris for his last pregnancy also chooses to have a homebirth, Julio comes to work for him to do his arms deals and meetups while Chris takes a step back and works from his office until the day he goes into labor. And even then he’s still trying to get this deal done while breathing through contractions.

Also, imagine Peter getting to experience both of his mates being pregnant again. I like to imagine the smile on his face when he hears the heartbeats for the first time, how he just knows when his mates are pregnant, he recognizes the scent change now. He knows Chris is pregnant before Chris does. With Noah it’s a bit more of a tie since Noah can pick up the twins’ energy signatures and heartbeat at 4-5 weeks. Which is when the scent change happens.

I imagine the three of them curled up together after the youngest has been born, all tuckered out and completely passed out. The new baby curled up in the cosleeper next to the bed. Malia sneaks in without waking her dad and starts snapping pictures for the family album. And at one point during the night, Ben and the youngest twins end up sleeping in their parents’ bed as well. It becomes a routine until Ben is ten and generally likes to sleep alone. (Unless he’s upset, then he comes running.)

Also, the mere image of Chris wearing glasses and Noah wearing his police sunglasses (or regular glasses), like yes, sign me up. Also, Peter shows solidarity and starts wearing glasses later in life too. Which doesn’t only do wonders for their sex life (though that was never bad, to begin with) but also every single parent at Ben’s high school and the twins’ elementary school suddenly have the hots for the three extremely hot dilfs.

It also helps with getting justice for Ben when his son is being bullied at school and Chris has to convince Peter not to kill anyone, Noah shows off the sheriff’s badge and starts suggesting a few things, and Chris likes to remind people that his son (Jackson) is now the youngest DA in the country and works from Beacon Hills and his other son (Stiles) is now an FBI agent who certainly wouldn’t mind digging into the past of whoever is bullying his little brother. (Not that he ever has to get that far, usually he smiles warmly and charms the principal or the teacher with his trademark smile and within a day Ben’s bullies are disciplined by the school.)

I have no idea where I’m going anymore as I’m pretty tired at this point. But these were stuck in my head and I had to share.

(Once again, I adore every single headcanon you’ve send me. <3)

#ben says stuff #once upon a time comments #submission

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frmartinshomiliesandreflections · 6 years ago

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8th March >> Fr. Martin’s Gospel Reflections / Homilies on Matthew 9:14-15 for Friday after Ash Wednesday: ‘The time will come for the bridegroom to be taken away.’

Friday after Ash Wednesday

Gospel (Europe, Africa, New Zealand, Australia & Canada)

Matthew 9:14-15

When the bridegroom is taken from them, then they will fast

Gospel (USA)

Matthew 9:14-15

When the bridegroom is taken from them, then they will fast.

Reflections (5)

(i) Friday after Ash Wednesday

And/Or

(ii) Friday after Ash Wednesday

And/Or

(iii) Friday after Ash Wednesday

And/Or

(iv) Friday after Ash Wednesday

And/Or

(v) Friday after Ash Wednesday

Fr. Martin Hogan, Saint John the Baptist Parish, Clontarf, Dublin, D03 AO62, Ireland.

Email: [email protected] or [email protected]

Parish Website: www.stjohnsclontarf.ie Please join us via our webcam.

Twitter: @SJtBClontarfRC.

Facebook: St John the Baptist RC Parish, Clontarf.

Tumblr: Saint John the Baptist Parish, Clontarf, Dublin

0 notes