#whoufflepuffsanonymous

Rule 1: Always post the rules

Rule 2: Answer the questions the person who tagged you asked, and write 11 new ones

Rule 3: Tag 11 people and link them to the post

Rule 4: Actually tell them you tagged them

first one was by sarah:

1. How are you today?

eeh it's been an off day i just really want to go home soon

2. Favorite TV show?

doctor who and buffy i cannot choose

3. Favorite video game? (and it can just be a playthrough you’ve seen)

THE LAST OF US

UNCHARTED

ASSASSIN'S CREED

HOW DO I PICK

4. Favorite youtuber?

PEWDS! i haven't watched a lot of others, but you gotta that idiot

5. What’s your favorite holiday, and why?

i like carnaval (is that a holiday) because we get a week off and i get to lazy around for a while :p

and also children's day because even though i'm 18 i still manage to bug my parents to give me gifts shh

6. Coffee, tea, or both?

chocolate milk

7. What’s the last movie you went to see? 

thor 2! SO AWESOME

8. Do you have any pets? How many? What are their names?

well one day a lizard thing showed up in my apartment and i named it godofredo because why not but my mom accidentally killed it when she went to throw it out so rip godofredo

9. On a scale of one to ten how awful have these questions been so far?

shh you they're awesome

10. How excited are you for the fiftieth? (since obviously there’s a good chance everyone I tag will be a whovian)

I'M SO EXCITED I THINK I MIGHT IMPLODE

11. THE ELEVENTH DOCTOR IS LEAVING AT CHRISTAMS ALJKDALKJSDLKJSDAD :’( so how are you coping with that so far?

DENIAL

FOREVER DENIAL

now these ones are from rebecca:

1. Do you have any siblings? If so, how many?

i've got one little shit for a brother

2. Did you ever have an imaginary friend? If so, what was he/she like?

i had like five of them when i was little because forever alone

3. Do you play any sports, and if not (or even if so), what’s a sport you wish you could play?

exercise what is exercise

but i just really like handball, i think it was my favorite sport that we played in gym class :>

4. What’s your biggest pet peeve?

idk if this counts but snORING

WHEN I SHARE A ROOM WITH OTHER PEOPLE I CAN'T STAND SNORING OH GOD JUST LET ME SLEEP IN PEACE

5. What’s your worst habit?

my eating habits

6. What’s your standard order at Starbucks/coffee joint? If you don’t drink coffee, what’s your favorite drink?

those two times that i went to starbucks i ordered a cookie

but when i'm going to order a drink in a coffee joint i go for the MILKSHAKE! CHOCOLATE MILKSHAKE!

7. What country do you live in?

brazil :>

8. If you could live in another country, which would you choose and why?

england because of things

9. Do you speak any other languages, and if so what are they? If not, which do you wish you could speak?

portuguese is my first language and i speak english too (you totally didn't guess that), but i wish i could learn like french and japanese :>

10. What’s your favorite book?

HITCHHIKER'S GUIDE TO THE GALAXY

11. Top 3 OTPs (from any fandom) and why - GO!

WHOUFFLE BECAUSE WHOUFFLE DO I NEED TO ELABORATE

NATE AND ELENA FROM UNCHARTED BECAUSE TREASURE HUNTER + BADASS REPORTER LADY + PARTNERSHIP + CUTENESS + FEELS + UNCHARTED 3 = A VERY DEAD ME

and i was going to say spuffy (because like otp) BUT I SHIP BUFFY/HAPPINESS MORE THAN ANYTHING IN THE WORLD BECAUSE MY POOR BABY HAS BEEN THROUGH SO MUCH SHE DESERVES ALL THE FUCKING HAPPINESS IN THE WORLD and if she gets it with spike i will be more than happy yes thank

NOW MY QUESTIONS GET READY

1. How often do you listen to music?

2. Can you name me one song that makes you feel like a badass? (or a lot of songs you can go crazy with it i don't mind)

3. Do you prefer hot or cold temperatures?

4. Have you ever cosplayed? If so, who did you cosplay as?

5. Have you ever eaten brazilian cheese bread because if not you should

6. What's one character that you can look up to?

7. Do you spontaneously burst into dance and/or song

8. Do you have deja vus a lot because i do and i'm starting to think i can see the future

9. How do you like your hair better, down or tied up?

10. When was the last time you cried over a movie/tv show/book/whatever?

11. what is the answer to the ultimate question of life, the universe and everything

“What?” he said finally. “What time is it?”

Clara sat forward and covered her face with her hands. “Half past nine. My train left over an hour ago.”

“Can you get another?”

“Last minute and at Christmas?” she replied incredulously. Clara turned and looked at him. “Any seats left are going to cost a fortune.“

The Doctor sat up straight and rubbed the side of his face as he tried to find a solution to this problem. He asked about coach tickets and Clara made a face, unable to stomach the idea of being trapped on a bus for god knows how many hours. Just the thought of it made her stomach queasy.

“I have to call my dad. Oh, god,” she muttered miserably.

Clara could feel tears welling but didn’t want to cry, especially not in front of the Doctor. She stood up and walked into the kitchen to find her phone sitting on the counter by the sink. She felt disappointment and anger welling up inside of her to the point where she couldn’t think straight. She started searching for her dad’s number in her phone when the Doctor appeared in the kitchen doorway.

“I’ll take you.”

“What?” The number was dialling.

“To Blackpool, to see your family. I can drive you.”

She stared at him. “You have a car?"

“Yes,” he replied, looking rather self-conscious about the fact.

Clara hit the ‘end call’ button and continued to stare at the Doctor while she tried to wrap her head around what he was saying. “You want to drive four plus hours just because I missed my train?”

“It’s my fault you missed it,” he replied shamefully. “And you can’t miss Christmas with your family, can you?”

A hesitant smile crept onto her face. “If you’re seriously going to drive me all the way to Blackpool, you might as well stay for Christmas.”

“Eh?” he replied. Clearly she’d caught him off guard.

“I wouldn’t let you take me there and then drive back the entire way all alone.”

“No,” he insisted modestly. “I don’t want to spoil—“

“Doctor,” she interrupted. “Please. Come spend Christmas with me.”

The Doctor looked at her with a mixture of emotions in his eyes. She thought he was angry at first, but then his expression softened to something so sad that Clara didn’t want to put a name to it.

And then he smiled.

- - - -

It had apparently been a long time since the Doctor had been behind the wheel. Clara hadn’t thought twice about it until his foot hit the accelerator.

He didn’t slow down for turns, veered too close to the right for comfort, and once they were out of the city, he managed to stray from the motorways onto these tiny little country roads that were barely wider than the car.

“Doctor,” Clara said carefully as she braced herself against the passenger door. “Where exactly are we?”

“It’s the GPS,” he insisted as he made a sharp turn. “It’s a more indirect route, but it should avoid most of the traffic and get us there faster.”

It didn’t. They were in the car for three hours before they were even halfway to Blackpool. Clara wanted to take a nap but didn’t feel comfortable enough to do so, plus she felt she ought to keep an extra eye out for the Doctor. She tried making conversation, but he would always turn to look at her when she spoke. They nearly ran off the road twice.

They did manage to have some danger free conversations, like when Doctor asked about her Christmas traditions. “We used to always go to my Gran’s—that’s my mum’s mum—but she’s let Aunt Julie take over the hosting duties the past few years. I think she’s gotten tired. Generally we all argue about putting up decorations and who’s going to help with dinner while the kids fight over what to watch on telly. It’s pretty standard. What about you?”

He grew thoughtful for a moment. “I like to go to church. I don’t go every year, but I like the music. It reminds me of my parents—they hated church. We never went when I was a kid, even though my mum was from a big Catholic family. She loved Christmas, though. She had a beautiful voice, and she could make even the most obnoxious Christmas songs sound like the sweetest of hymns. I can’t think of a  Christmas song that doesn’t remind me of my mum.”

Clara smiled. “That’s really nice. My mum,” she chuckled, “bless her—couldn’t carry a tune. Dogs weren’t howling in the street or anything, but she was always a shade off. She always sounded happy though, when she sang. I’d almost forgotten about her singing,” Clara added in disbelief.

Their eyes met as the moment sank in, and it was a while before Clara reminded the Doctor to keep his eyes on the road.

Night fell shortly before they arrived in Blackpool. Clara directed the Doctor to her father’s address and they found a parking spot a few houses down the street. She had never been more relieved to place her feet on the pavement, even though the world still felt like it was moving.

“Are you sure your dad doesn’t mind me staying?” the Doctor asked for what had to be the sixth time.

“Yes, he said it was fine. Guest room’s all made up and everything.”

Clara led the Doctor inside and announced their arrival loudly. Her dad didn’t immediately come running, but their old fluffy grey cat hurried to greet them.

“Aw, hello, Sal,” Clara said warmly as she placed her bag on the ground and knelt down to scratch under the cat’s chin.

“Your dad has a cat?”

“Obviously,” she replied with a chuckle.

He’d gotten Sally shortly after Clara’s mum died. Sally had just been a kitten then.

Footfalls on the staircase alerted them to her father’s arrival downstairs. “You made it!” he said happily before engulfing Clara in a warm hug. 

He pulled back and regarded the Doctor curiously. “You must be Clara’s doctor friend.”

“Yeah, that’s me,” the Doctor replied with a laugh as he shook her dad’s hand. “You can just call me the Doctor.”

Mr Oswald chuckle but nodded. “Alright. So, are you two hungry?”

- - - -

The Doctor could sense Mrs Oswald’s absence in the house despite having never known her. As they sat around the dinner table, it was clear that the empty seat next to him had been the one she’d sat in for all of their family meals. There were knickknacks and other things about the house that screamed of a woman’s touch, and yet it had been nearly a decade since she had passed.

“So, Doctor,” Mr Oswald began. “Do you not usually spend Christmas with your parents?”

 “They died when I was still a kid, actually.”

“Oh,” Mr Oswald replied soberly. “I’m sorry to hear that. No other family?”

“No, it was just us.”

“How did they die?”

“Dad,” Clara chided.

“It’s alright,” the Doctor assured them both. “It was a car accident. Really dark, rainy night.”

He stabbed a potato with his fork and shoved it in his mouth.

“That’s a right shame,” Mr Oswald replied.

The Doctor could feel Clara’s eyes on him. They had yet to talk about how his parents died on their own, or about the nature of her mother’s death. It was something they’d both actively avoided in conversation, without avoiding their parents’ memories altogether.

Hours later, Mr Oswald announced that the guest room mattress had developed some sort of mould and had to be thrown out. Clara was very upset by this news because he’d told her the guest room was ready over the phone. Apparently he’d discovered the mould while he was redressing the bed, but something suspicious in Clara’s tone suggested that this may have been his underhanded suggestion that her gentleman friend sleep on the sofa downstairs instead of in the bedroom next to hers.

“Honestly,” she said in a huff when she returned to the lounge with a folded duvet and two pillows.

The Doctor turned from his position by the mantle to look at her, and Clara smiled at him curiously.

“Snooping around?” she accused, crossing her arms over her chest as she approached.

“Just looking at pictures. Your mum looks nice.”

She looked at the photo he was referencing and she smiled almost as if the photo of her mother could smile back. “Yeah. She was.”

“How did she die?”

Clara didn’t tear her eyes from the photo. “Um, she got sick. Really, really sick. And then she died.”

The Doctor brushed his fingers against hers and Clara grasped his hand tightly. For a moment neither said a word, and the Doctor could feel her grief as if it were a palpable thing. He knew what it was like to miss your mother at Christmas, but he didn’t have a father or an extended family to comfort him. He wondered which was worse—to have no family or for your family to be broken and incomplete. He didn’t need to know the answer.

Clara squeezed his hand and took a deep breath. “We should get you sorted for the night.”

They unfolded the sheets and tucked them around the sofa cushions, all the while chatting about the big plans for the next day. They were going to decorate the Christmas tree, visit some of her neighbours, and then pop over to her aunt’s for the annual family Christmas party. Clara once again mentioned how her Gran would be delighted to meet him and the Doctor had to interrupt her.

“This is the third time you’ve mentioned your Gran liking me. Should I be worried?”

Clara shrugged but wore a wicked grin. The Doctor breathed out a little laugh and for a moment neither of them said a word.

“Thanks for making sure I was home for Christmas,” she said earnestly.

“Of course,” he replied, his voice lowering to match hers. “Thank you for inviting me to stay.”

“Of course,” she echoed with a smile.

They both stepped forward until they were wrapped in each other’s arms, their lips firmly pressed together as if they’d been holding their breaths until this moment. The Doctor tightened his arms around her as Clara broke away. He didn’t want her to go. As pathetic as it felt to admit, any moment away from her was agony. Luckily she didn’t need any persuading, because in the next moment she pulled his head down for a deeper kiss, one that made it difficult to breathe or focus on anything other than the places their bodies touched.

The Doctor wasn’t sure if she pulled him towards the sofa or if he lowered her onto it. All he knew was that Clara’s hair spilled onto his pillow like a halo and she moaned softly when his body sank heavily onto hers.  Her fingertips dug into the back of his neck and between his shoulder blades while his hands remained snaked around her torso, pulling her as tightly against him as possible.

They were reminded of where they were as quickly as they’d forgotten. Clara shoved him off her the second she heard her father’s footsteps on the staircase and the Doctor practically jumped to the opposite side of the couch. Clara stood and straightened her dress and smiled brightly at her father when he appeared in the lounge.

“Goodnight, Dad!” she said a little too cheerily before walking past him towards the hallway. Before she disappeared around the corner, Clara shot the Doctor an apologetic grimace that morphed into a satisfied grin before she ran up the stairs.

The Doctor hugged his pillow to his chest and tried not to look at Clara’s father. He could feel that he was staring at him expectantly, so the Doctor finally met Mr Oswald’s eyes and tried not to look too guilty.

“You know that mattress wasn’t really mouldy, don’t you?” he said simply.

The Doctor bowed his head and nodded. “Yeah.”