#asemptyasthatbeatingdrum

[drthetasigma14]

(( Haahaaaa, thank you, wow! XD #achievementunlocked! ))

[drthetasigma14]

[[I call shenanigans, the Dutch sound Scottish.]]

(( To a Scotswoman! …anyway, Scotland’s still Great Britain. ))

[drthetasigma14]

[[You should totally respond to my reblog of our post that I finally did today after not being on for forever.]]

(( I am on it like Picard on Earl Grey, m'lady! ))

[wininthetardis]

Tumblr Crushes:

Fire Lilly

Evie

My Creeper

Irene

Master

Harry

Seb

Annie

Lady

"Well that hasn't happened in a long while..."

[kombrig]

asemptyasthatbeatingdrum liked your post:

hey remember when you were hilary duff that one time you should do that again by magic order

Go away.

[doublehelixweb]

Every Storm (Runs Out of Rain)

...and it's right about then.

...just then.

That again, he trails off in the middle of a sentence.

His eyes widen.

...his hand flies to his chest and-- almost faster than the eye can follow --he's hunched over a nearby wastebasket and disgorging grey bile. He can't believe what he's-- he can't process what he's--

--Ben had been in the middle of storming out, red-faced, blustering, his Zen calm completely overcome by this vicious-tongued, ethically-nihilistic creature that had replaced his nephew. But the venerable old uncle turned as Rich's rant stopped mid-syllable, and widened with surprise as Rich hugged the trash can, eyes wide and suddenly streaked with tears.

Ben adjusted his glasses, and inclined his head warily. "Son? ...s'that you?"

Rich nodded a slow, wobbly nod, and exhaled a noisy wet breath.

Ben, while not possessed of spidery abilities and, in fact, possessed of a certain quantity of normal human aging, moved to kneel beside Rich with surprising speed. He'd assumed that Rich had been undergoing some sort of belated moral schism related to May's death... a delayed-reaction breakdown. ...in keeping with that, he wondered if this wasn't the backswing of that breakdown, a complete surrendering to guilt.

Things were, of course, a little more complicated than that. But Rich hardly possessed the eloquence to say that.

He was, just as The Master had so beautifully and eloquently predicted, crumbling like a cake with too much fondant; like Win had described, Rich was collapsing like a souffle. 

"Oh God," Rich mumbled as Ben rubbed a slow circle on his back, "oh God. I said-- I said all those things-- I-- I made Claire cry, I-- oh. Oh my fucking God."

For once, Ben didn't bother to prompt Rich on his cursing. Instead, he smiled an agonized smile. "We'll get through this, son. We'll get through this. For now, just breathe. Just breathe."

"Nnnyeah," Rich sobbed and sagged. "Nyeah. Bruh-bruh-breathings'good." 

And anyone who approached the front door at that moment would find that door half open, and would find the two of them huddled on the floor.