#which means I have no middle perspective. It's either what's easier now or being afraid of hell

[marietheran]

.

#Went to Confession (again) #am still at my most miserable and confused #look I am aware I cannot ask of the priest to tell me <<oh that was only a venial sin you needn't mind>> #but it's also just really freaking hard when you just cannot tell a venial sin from a mortal one #and I know - I know - if you looked at it my attitude towards life is pretty dumb #to write a scathing report: i view life as a path of least resistance. I'm governed either by whims or by fear #which means I have no middle perspective. It's either what's easier now or being afraid of hell #I hardly pay any attention to matters like health or whatever. if I wasn't afraid of sin I wouldn't care about how things impact my mind #If I wasn't afraid of sin I'd have read Game of Thrones or whatever. and of course I would feel unimaginably dirty afterwards. but at least #I'd have read something interesting right? /s #oh and also I'm literally Emma Bovary minus the adultery but that's a different issue #mostly. some of it is probably more connected than obvious at first glance #I'm miserable and it's not even the sort of misery you can make poetry about. #only scathing character portraits. if i was a character from a novel you would hate me #(i would find the novel boring. mundane. there's nothing romantic in this) #(i wouldn't *prefer* to deal with wars - death of everyone you've known - unbreakable badly worded vows or whatever. #but it makes for better stories) #but again you would hate me in mine #// #therese rambles #therese is in an emotional hole #possibly more than emotional but that's the tag

[ineffable-snowman]

Partners, accidentally (a SamBucky fic)

Link to AO3

“So when is your boyfriend coming back?” Mrs. T asked him while she bagged his groceries.

Sam sighed softly. Mrs. T had always been forgetful but since the Blip she got even more things confused.

“He won’t be coming back,” Sam told her gently. “He wasn’t blipped. He just – died. Before.”

“I’m not talking about Richard. I mean the confused white one with the leather jacket, what’s his name? Richard was, what, decades ago? You can’t still be mourning for him, dear. You need to give your new relationship a chance. And he seems such a sweet guy, wouldn’t be fair to him to still be hung up on an old love.”

“Oh. You mean Steve.” Out of politeness, Sam refrained from pointing out that the name had been Riley, not Richard, and that it had been twelve years, not decades ago. “I’m afraid he isn’t coming back either. He… moved on. Found someone else.” He shrugged in a ‘what can you do’ gesture.

“Mm, his loss. But you seem to be doing pretty well yourself.” She winked at him.

“Thanks. I mean, it definitely is a challenging role but I’m getting used to it. I hope.” He chuckled. “And in case I let it get to my head, I can always come back here.”

“That you sure can.” Mrs. T added five of the toffees with the shiny candy wrapper to the bag, the sweets she used to give him when he had been a kid. “Say hello to Sarah and the kids. And tell your boyfriend just to ask for help next time if he doesn’t find an item from his shopping list – and not sneak around my shop like a thief. I can tell you, I was this close to calling Elliot for help.”

It was this description (much more accurate than such a sweet guy) that made Sam finally realise who she was talking about.

“Oh. No.” He laughed. “Bucky is not-”

“I know, I just didn’t recognise him at first. He was wearing sunglasses and black gloves – gloves in the middle of the summer, really? Seemed a bit suspicious. But then he explained who he was before I could get my baseball bat.”

Sam grinned. He would have liked to see Mrs. T chase Bucky out of her shop. Sounded like a good story he could tease Bucky with.

“I’ll make sure to tell him to act like a normal human being next time,” he said, still grinning.

***

It was only later that the implications of Mrs. T’s words fully sunk in. There was of course the implied relationship between him and Bucky, but those kind of things happened, that people mistook someone for a couple who weren’t. But apparently Bucky had “explained who he was” to Mrs. T, and Sam could not help but wonder what his exact words had been. Bucky’s tentative “partners” came to mind – shit. Had Sam accidentally turned him down by describing them as “co-workers” instead? That had definitely not been his intention. And what a shitty way to turn someone down it would be! Someone who had just bared his heart to Sam and – no. It couldn’t be. That moment with Mrs. T when Bucky had “explained who he was” must have happened later. So what exactly had he said? What exactly did he think they were? Did Bucky consider them boyfriends? You could never know with that cyborg brain of his but it would actually explain so much. How the staring had turned into smiles, all the casual touches, them spending time outside of missions…

Sam felt completely out of his depths. Was he in a relationship without knowing it? And how did he find out without making a complete fool of himself? He could just go for the trial-and-error method and kiss Bucky next time they met. If Bucky kissed him back, he would know without revealing his cluelessness. If Bucky punched him in the face, he would know, too. Sounded like a foolproof plan. It was just that Sam Wilson did not go around simply kissing people just like that.

So he asked Sarah. He was careful with his wording.

“Do you think Bucky is a good boyfriend?” Not ‘would make a good boyfriend’. Because if Sarah found out that she knew before Sam that he and Bucky were in a relationship, he would never hear the end of it.

Sarah hummed. “Why are you asking? Did something happen?”

“Just looking for…another perspective…on this.”

“Sam, you’ve never been someone who’s blinded by love. I mean, you wrote a pros and cons list when Riley asked you out. Still can’t believe he still wanted to date you after that, by the way. So what’s going on now? You want to take the next step and need more pros on your list?”

“Something like that, yeah.” Shit, she totally thought they were dating. And maybe they were. And Sam had no idea what “the next step” was in Sarah’s mind. Moving in together? Proposing?

“Use your words, Sam,” Sarah said.

It was the first useful advice. “Hey, let’s talk about this later, okay? I need to find out a few more things before I make a decision.” Because it did not matter what Mrs. T or Sarah thought the next step was. He needed to make sure he and Bucky were on the same page about this, no matter if it was about a first date or an anniversary.

are we partners?, he texted Bucky.

For the first time ever, Bucky texted him back in less than a minute.

something come up? where are you?

at sarah’s and everything’s fine. just thinking about some stuff

are you ok???

yes

Sam sighed. He had had enough with all this miscommunication. They were grown-up people, for God’s sake. Time for a direct approach.

are we partners in a professional or in a romantic sense?

Bucky did not answer for several long, long minutes. He was online, sometimes shown to be typing but never sending a reply. After four maddening minutes like this, Sam texted:

or both?

Then he panicked and did something extremely stupid: he added a grinning emoji. So much about grownup communication. Immediately, he wanted to delete his message but Bucky had already read it.

Finally, there was a reply:

both

And five grinning emojis, which did not clear up anything. They really should not discuss this via text messaging.

i’m coming to NY on friday. do you want to meet up?

are you asking me on a date? Again with the grinning emojis.

There was no way to end this conversation in a dignified manner, so Sam just texted truthfully:

not sure

***

It was too long until Friday and yet, when Friday arrived, Sam was not ready for it. He wished the utterly boring meeting with the mayor had taken longer but there really wasn’t much to discuss. So here he was, waiting nervously in front of New York City Hall if Bucky was going to stand him up.

He didn’t. Just on time, Bucky arrived on his motorbike, looking more badass than a 107 year old man had any right to look, in his black leather jacket, black jeans and sunglasses when he sauntered towards Sam.

“Hi.” He flashed Sam a grin, came towards him, lifted a hand –

Right, looked like they were dating, so they were really doing this, Sam took a deep breath, leant forward – and his nose collided painfully with Bucky’s chin.

Bucky grimaced and took off his sunglasses, which sat askew on his nose after that disastrous greeting. So no dating. Bucky had gone in for a hug, not a kiss. Sam should have brought his wings. If there ever was a time to just fly away from an awkward situation before he could make even more of an idiot of himself it was now.

But then Bucky said, “Didn’t know if I should bring you flowers,” and at these words something eased inside Sam. Whatever this weird situation was, Bucky did not seem intent on making it weirder between them, and Sam was sure they were going to be fine.

He gave Bucky a relieved grin. “I’m allergic to most flowers, so I’m really grateful you didn’t.”

“Okay, noted. So, uh.” Bucky looked at him inquisitively, a little crease appearing between his brows (and Sam’s fingers itched to wipe it away). “I wasn’t sure if AJ and Cass had hacked your phone and were messing around with me. Or with you. Both of us. But I didn’t want to blow my chance.”

Sam shrugged apologetically. “No, that was all me. Can’t blame it on the boys, unfortunately.” Then he realised what Bucky had just said, that he didn’t want to blow his chance. It gave Sam the courage to carry on. “There’s really no way to ask this without sounding weird but… Are we dating?”

“You were the one who asked me on this… date, not-date, whatever. You should know.”

“I don’t mean right now, I mean more generally, as in…are we in a relationship?”

Bucky stared at him. “There’s definitely a lot about 21st century dating, sex, relationships that confuses me but I’m pretty sure I would’ve realised if we were dating.”

“Okay, good.” Sam did not know whether to be relieved that at least they were on the same page about this, or disappointed that they were not dating after all.

“So, people have been talking?” Bucky cocked his head. He was still staring, as if he was trying to read Sam’s mind.

“Everyone in Delacroix thinks we’re a couple. Even Sarah.”

“That a problem?”

“Not exactly. Would’ve just been weird to be in a relationship and be the last one to find out about it, you know?”

Bucky snorted. “If it’s any consolation, it’s news to me, too.” He considered Sam for a moment, never once blinking. “Doesn’t mean I’m opposed to it.”

Huh. Sam did not know what to make of this nonchalant and yet so monumental comment. “Uh. Let’s walk a bit?” He needed time to digest this information. And also he preferred to not discuss his relationship status in front of New York City Hall.

Bucky nodded and so they strolled through the adjoining park. It was easier to talk like this than when Bucky was standing in front of him and staring him down.

“You know, I wouldn’t mind it either,” Sam finally said because it felt like it was his turn to assure Bucky that the feeling was mutual.

“Ah. Alright.” Bucky was silent for some time but then he said, “People will think what they think. Might as well go along with it.”

“At this point just going along with it is probably easier than trying to explain to them that we’re not dating.” Sam chanced a sideways glance at Bucky, caught his eye and found him grinning.

“Yup. I mean, if even your sister is convinced, she’s probably right.”

“So we’re doing this.”

“Fine with me.”

“Great.”

They exchanged another glance, both grinning. They might walk a little faster, with a spring in their step, but nothing else had changed.

“Just one thing,” Sam said. “If anyone asks us when and how we got together, we’re not going to tell them it happened like this. Because that’s just too embarrassing. I’m Captain America, I can’t have that.”

“You mean we need a cover-up story?”

“An anniversary.”

Bucky was still grinning but then he got that manic look in his eyes that told Sam that he was about to do something very risky and very stupid.

“How about when you saved me from that truck in Germany?”

Sam stopped dead. “No way. Please don’t tell me that got you hot. Seriously, Buck.”

“Nah.” Bucky shrugged. “Not in that situation anyway, that was just adrenaline and it was mostly painful, the way your knee kept hitting me everywhere. But, you know. Thinking back on it. Or imagining it happening again…”

“Jesus.” Sam made a mental note to educate Bucky on the safe, sane and consensual part of sex, emphasis on safe and sane. “Just for your information, if you get yourself under a truck on purpose, I won’t save you again.” Because it had been uncomfortable and not to mention potentially life-threatening. Still. There was something to be said about imagining it. Sam swooping in to gracefully save Bucky from a dangerous situation, them being pressed so close to each other, Bucky telling him in a low and breathless voice, “Nice job, Cap,” and then something about wanting to thank him –

“No, that’s definitely not when we started dating,” Sam insisted, heat creeping up his neck. “I can’t remember a day when you were more annoying and that’s counting the day when you jumped onto my car and ripped my steering wheel out.”

“Then what’s your suggestion for our anniversary? I need to know so I can buy you plastic flowers.”

Sam could not help but laugh. What a dork. Now he knew Bucky was going to buy him the most hideous plastic flowers ever. “When you came to Louisiana to help fix the boat. That one at least makes sense.”

“I don’t know. There were some witnesses who saw me passed out on Sarah’s couch. Not much happening that night for me.”

“The next morning then. When you came to the boat and…” Sam remembered it all too clearly. The early morning light, their hushed voices, every word seemingly too much in that small, quiet place. “I wanted to kiss you then,” he admitted. Everything about Bucky had been so soft that morning, his hair, his eyes, his shirt, his words. Now Sam’s heart was hammering so loudly in his chest that he wondered if Bucky could hear it with his supersoldier senses.

“I would have liked that,” Bucky said softly. Gone was the grin. Bucky was giving him such an open, earnest look that made Sam’s heart speed up even more but at the same time, it calmed him down.

All he managed in response was “good” and a (probably giddy) smile.

“Why didn’t you do it?” Bucky asked.

“Wasn’t sure if you’d got your head out of your ass yet.” Or if it was reciprocated.

One corner of Bucky’s mouth quirked up in self-deprecation. “Fair enough.”

“Yeah. But…”

“No witnesses there who could refute that we hooked up on that boat.”

“We totally hooked up there.”

“And it was, uh… great?”

“Definitely was.”

Again they were stupidly grinning at each other and Sam was amazed how much he liked the crinkles around Bucky’s eyes when he did that.

“If someone asks for details…” Sam could hardly believe his own nerve because this was not something Sam Wilson did but somehow – contrary to first (and second) impressions – everything was easy with Bucky. “Well. I should know what to say.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Or you could just not say anything? God, that’s really not something that other people need to know, it’s personal, what is wrong with people, what happened to don’t kiss and tell?”

“So you’re going to be old school about it?” As long as it did not involve plastic flowers, Sam would be able to put up with it. He had experience with centenarian supersoldiers after all.

“Well, I am old. But other than that, it’s just decent human behaviour. Still can’t believe you asked me out via text messaging, by the way.”

Bucky was scowling, and because Sam could do it now, he placed his thumb against the crease between Bucky’s brows and tried to smooth it out. Bucky lightly swatted his hand away and rolled his eyes again.

“What would you have preferred?” Sam said. “A seaside rendezvous with a picnic? A candlelight dinner?”

Bucky’s frown only deepened and Sam could practically hear the cyborg gears start to turn and rattle. “Did you just say we should have sex?”

So he had figured it out, finally. “Your place isn’t far, is it?”

“I don’t even have a bed. And no, it’s bad enough that you think flirting via text messages is okay but when I make love to you for the first time, it’s not gonna be on the floor, that’s for sure.”

Sam did not know what to say to that. His chest had constricted at Bucky’s word and he really wanted to kiss that frown away but they should probably first discuss how comfortable they were with public displays of affection. In a direct and open way. Because no matter how much Sam enjoyed making fun of Bucky, it was not fair to leave Bucky always guessing and confused when it came to their relationship.

“Right.” Sam cleared his throat because that word had come out a bit croaked. “Not sure how you feel about it and it’s totally fine if you want to do it differently but you’re a supersoldier, so.” Sam raised his eyebrows. “Doing it standing up, against a wall – shouldn’t be a problem for you, right?”

Bucky shrugged. “I’ve just never.” He gestured vaguely and Sam silently waited for him to finish his sentence, trying to broadcast that he would accept whatever was going to come next. Never had sex? Never had sex with a man?

“I mean,” Bucky finally said, waving his hands some more but he kept looking at Sam, not trying to hide any of his vulnerability, and Sam once more thought how brave that man was. “I’ve never had sex in this body, only before. I don’t know, anything could happen.”

Sam nodded to show it was alright. “You know what? Let’s buy a bed first.” He tried to give Bucky a reassuring smile. “And then we can still decide if we want to find out what could happen.”

“Can I at least buy you dinner first?”

Sam’s heart was doing funny things again. “Sure. Any plans?”

“Do you know Sushi?”

Sam snorted. “Risky move. I’m a Wilson, I have opinions on seafood.” (Who was he kidding, he would let Bucky drag him to the cheapest sushi chain and stuff his face with half defrosted mock crab.)

“You’re really going to make me work for it, aren’t you?”

The comment was light-hearted enough and anyway, they had already established that it was Bucky, not Sam who insisted on dinner first. So they easily fell back into their usual back and forth. “I’m not letting you get away with that whole I’m a confused old man, that’s for sure,” Sam said.

Bucky shrugged, an easy smirk playing around his lips. “Come on.” They started walking again, maybe a little closer than usually so their arms bumped together all the time. They didn’t necessarily need to hold hands here in New York but back in Delacroix where everyone was already under the impression that they were a couple…

“Hey, Buck?” Sam nudged him lightly. “It’s gonna be fine.”

#sambucky fic #winterfalcon #sam wilson #bucky barnes #tfatws #my writing

[drofeilrah]

In honor of me being dumb of ass, here is the alternate version to Chapter 4 of 'To whom do we pray.' A few things are different from the actual chapter (i.e., it's from Lucifer's perspective and some dialogue changes), but there are some fun moments in it still. I'm very happy with the chapter I ended up writing, though, and I'm pretty glad I tossed this one.

“I knew you’d come.”

Lucifer stands at the foot of Trixie’s bed, a deer frozen in headlights, ice running through his veins as a little girl who absolutely should not be able to see him stares right into his very soul, a huge grin crossing her face.

It’s a record scratch moment and Lucifer flashbacks through the decisions that led to him stand before the little urchin.

She prayed to him.

And not only did she pray, she asked for him to come to her. That she was afraid, that she didn’t want to be alone. The very thing her mother asked him to prevent.

Where is the Detective?

He landed inside of her room with an unintended flurry, displacing a few stuffed animals from their perches as his wings knocked against them. It’s a relatively small room, pinks, whites, and purples covering every surface. And in a bed just a little too big for her, arms wrapped tight around her knees, is the child he helped live. With a mop of brown hair and cheeks puffy from crying, he felt an alien kind of fondness stirring in his heart. She still has stardust in her, interwoven in golden streaks with her soft-white, incandescent soul.

And then Lucifer realized she was staring directly at him.

Not only was she staring at him, but she’s speaking to him, telling him that she knew he’d come. And he can’t figure out how to move, how to escape from a situation that is spiraling out of his control.

She starts to crawl forward down her rainbow sparkle comforter, eyes wide as she looks across his wings. Awestruck, she whispers, “Mommy said you were the stars. She never said you were an angel.”

Lucifer swallows hard, unsure how to speak to her at all. But his voice ignores his internal terror and releases a short quip on instinct. “If it’s any consolation, I’m not really either.”

She comes to the edge of her bed and Lucifer is stock-still, mind only just catching up with the crisis at hand. For thousands of years he’s heard about this child, for thousands of years he’s never responded, but with a single request from the little urchin, he’s managed to fly right into her view, her bright eyes looking at him with such honest wonder. Distressing doesn’t begin to cover the alarm growing in his chest.

“Mommy is gonna be so mad that I got to meet you first.”

Lucifer’s mouth has gone dry. How is it that every time he comes into the Detective’s world, he always falls into the middle of an affair that puts him completely out of his depth.

He coughs and adjusts his suit, rolling down his cuffs and trying to regain composure in front of a six-year old girl. “This is highly unusual. You shouldn’t be doing,” he brandishes a hand at her, “whatever this is.”

She tilts her head, confused. “Am I not supposed to see you? Oh! Oh no, I’m so sorry,” and then immediately slaps her hands over her eyes, as if that’s enough to deescalate Lucifer’s panic over being seen.

He doesn’t dare admit that it almost does.

He shakes his head, the little urchin covering her eyes in such a way that she can still peek through her fingers.

“Child. I’m not.. I’m not what you think I am. But I heard your prayer and I came, inadvisable as that may be for everyone involved. Why in the world did you call me?”

Her hands slip down and she curls them in the unicorn print of her pajama pants. “Mommy said you were a really good listener. And no one else wants to listen at all.”

It’s a strange feeling that breaks through his alarm when she tells him this. Something soft, despite his aversion to the entire situation he’s been placed in. “It’s your birthday, isn’t it?”

Trixie nods, eyes wide and somehow sparkling.

Lucifer sighs. He’s concerned about why she’s called to him, but he doesn’t let on. He simply walks to the side of her bed and tells her to scooch over, moving a few stuffed animals before sitting down next to her, wings finally folding back.

He looks down at her, her little face still stuck in awe. “Your mother tells me every year. It’s a bit of an important occasion for both of us, I think.” He pauses, knowing he must be gentle with his next line of questioning. “Beatrice, your mother didn’t tell me this year. Is that why you’ve called me? Is she not here?”

Trixie’s eyes go wide and watery, lower lip wobbling. “She didn’t come home from work today,” she warbles, alligator tears now rolling down her cheeks.

Lucifer is thrown into a panic again. Crying. This he cannot abide. He quickly fishes out a handkerchief and pushes it in her direction. Knowing that in the Detective’s line of work, late nights are frequent tolls of the job, but there is something undeniably off here. It is inconceivable that she would miss her child’s birthday. And it is strange that she hasn’t said a word to him about it.

“Can you find her?” she asks with a small and stuffy voice, blowing an exceptionally gooey nose into his handkerchief.

Dismayed as she pushes it in his direction, he picks it out of her hands with two fingers and sets it ablaze between them to her delight, disintegrating in moments. With an audible strain, he says, “It’s not that easy, unfortunately. She’d have to call me, like you did, but she hasn’t said a word today.”

Trixie sniffles and nods her head. “She never misses anything. She is the best mom in the whole world. She wouldn’t miss our day together, I know she wouldn’t. And I tried to tell my babysitter, but she wouldn’t listen.”

An interesting thought crosses his mind. While the babysitter wouldn’t have a real reason to worry or think something was astray, certainly there was someone who would.

“Where is your… father?” Lucifer asks, trying and failing to avoid the drip of displeasure in asking for his whereabouts.

Trixie pulls her knees to her chest and buries her head in them. “I made my babysitter call him, but he didn’t answer. But he’s working, too. He always picks me up the day after my birthday.”

Lucifer squints. He’s not an investigator by any means, but there are several red flags making themselves known. If there is no communication to the babysitter of the Detective’s whereabouts, that is an issue. And if the child’s babysitter calls her father on his daughter’s birthday, it would seem apt to pick up the phone or call back. And from what he knows, the Detective and the Douche work at the same precinct. If she was still there, surely one of them would figure out a way to get back to the urchin. Or, if the Detective isn’t there and isn’t here, then wouldn’t he come back and try and find her?

Lucifer makes himself dizzy thinking about the possibilities.

The most worrisome part of all, of course, is the deafening silence on her end.

Trixie’s arms are still wrapped around her knees, quietly sniffling. Lucifer runs a hand through his hair, mind working on what he should do. He can’t leave her alone but he also wants to find the Detective. He’s certain she’s safe. She has to be. But the only way to confirm that is to fly to where she supposedly is.

With a sigh, Lucifer looks over at Trixie and asks, “Your parents work at the LAPD, correct?”

Her head snaps up. “Are you going to look for my mom?”

Wincing at the speed of her question, Lucifer says, “Well, if you aren’t afraid of heights, it would be easier if we both did.”

Her eyes go wide, tears finally slowing as the realization of what he was implying comes into view.

He stands up, her amazement making him antsy. “I’m not just going to leave you here by yourself. Your babysitter is evidently useless. And I made a promise a very long time ago that I’d keep an eye on you. So. You are more or less my ward until we find your mother. And we will find her.”

She whispers, “Really?”

“Really, really.”

Lucifer walks over to her window, unlatching it and opening it, side stepping out into the yard. Through a window he sees the flickering lights of a television from the living room, her babysitter passed out on the couch. Confirmed: useless.

He extends an arm back, beckoning Trixie to follow him despite his every nerve yelling at him to not allow this. Physical contact was something he simply did not do well with, especially from small, fragile children. But this one is different. She’s got stardust in her and her mother is missing. He can get past his reservations just this once.

She squeals and clambers over the window sill and into his arms without hesitation. Lucifer holds his breath, her head snuggling into his chest, secure in his arms.

“This is the best birthday present I could have asked for,” she whispers.

Lucifer tries not to let on how touched he was to hear that, but a tiny huff of air escapes him anyway. A cool breeze picks up and ruffles through her hair. Without a second thought, he manages to one-arm his suit jacket off of him and wrap her in it. Then he extends his wings. Trixie makes a quiet gasp as they stretch out. But she’s not looking at them. She splays out her fingers and presses them against his chest.

“You have the same light I do.”

Lucifer raises his eyebrows, surprised. He looks down and there’s nothing there. Just the dark. He ignores her comment and shifts her in his arms, saying, “I’ve one rule for this, which is a lot for me. No screaming.”

She zips across her lips, though she is still vibrating with excitement in his arms.

Lucifer sighs. Good enough.

With a single motion, they take off into the air, Trixie hugged around his neck, arms securing her to his chest as he heads in the direction of the LAPD.

#my writing #lucifer #lucifer fanfiction #lucifer morningstar #to whom do we pray #garbage #i have so many trashed scenes #like almost 8k in tossed bits that i just didn't like but didn't wanna get rid of cause i wrote so much #i ended up recycling a LOT from this version into the rewrite

[im-fairly-whitty]

The Mortifying Ordeal of Caring: A DBH oneshot

Gavin and Nines have been working together for nearly a year now and dating for more than half of it, but the suggestion of moving in together has Gavin anxious about the bad habits he’s only just managed to kick and that he fears could come back at any moment.

To his own great discomfort he realizes that—unlike most things in his past—he cares too much about his relationship with Nines to just run away from it, leading him to hunt down a real life professional (android) therapist to give it to him straight and tell him once and for all if he’s too messed up to really be good enough for Nines in the long run. (Or if he maybe has a chance at actually becoming a better person.)

“Gavin Reed?” 

Gavin stood up fast enough to wack his leg on the low waiting room coffee table, making him wince.

Luckily the sharp new pain in his shin was easily stuffed down underneath the sheer terror that had been rising in his gut since he’d awoken two hours before his morning alarm and been unable to get back to sleep.

“That’s- Um, that’s me.” He coughed, having to clear his dry throat halfway through the first word. 

Was not being able to speak properly enough of a screw up to justify leaving? He could probably bear the shame of running out of the office now, right?

But the android just smiled warmly and held the door open for him. “Come on in Gavin, I’ve been looking forward to meeting you!”

Gavin teetered on the edge on flight for another instant that felt like an eternity before gritting his teeth, ordering himself to man up, and stiffly walking back into the office with the same care he’d take entering an uncleared area with a reported active shooter on the loose.

But once inside the office he realized it didn’t look much like an office at all. He’d been expecting some clean lined minimalist space with the stereotypical red couch that cartoons had taught him to expect, but this room instead seemed...cozy.

There was a couch, but it was worn in and brown, not an ostentatious slick velvet red. A rolling chair was beside it, presumably for the therapist. On one wall was a collection of drawings scattered with stickers, and against the other wall stood a low bookshelf filled with baskets of toys. 

“You, uh, you get a lot of kids in here?” He asked stiffly, gingerly sitting in the exact middle of the couch on the extreme edge of the cushion.

Beside him on the couch was a small novelty pillow covered with blue and purple sequins which he carefully ignored.

“I do.” The android said, closing the door behind them and taking a seat on the rolling chair, relaxing into it and leaning against one of the arms. “Most of my clients are adults, but many of the more complex situations I work with since the revolution are android children with human parents. Having toys for them helps ease things a bit when we talk, and I’ve found my adult clients don’t mind either.”

“Shit. I didn’t even think about kid androids.” Gavin said, eyes wide as he stared at the shelf. “Fuck, how does that even- uh, sorry about the swearing, I, uh...”

“While we’re here together I don’t want you to worry about censoring yourself.” The android said easily. “If you need to swear in order to best get your thoughts and feelings out, then I want you to swear up a storm. I know this is our first time meeting, and sometimes it can take a few tries to find a therapist that best meets your needs specifically, but while we’re here today I want you to feel as comfortable as possible.”

Right. Like feeling comfortable was going to happen.

It suddenly occurred to Gavin that she hadn’t pulled out the large notepad and pen he’d assumed all therapists scribbled away on during meetings.

“Are you recording this?” He blurted out, cheeks turning red as he tried desperately to think if that was an offensive question. “I mean, just, you don’t have a notebook and I know you probably gotta take notes, but if I’m gonna talk I’d rather you didn't record anything, you know? Or like, at least not without me knowing? Sorry if that’s a bad question or whatever, I really don’t know what the hell I’m doing here, I’m sorry.”

“Not a bad question at all, this is a new experience for you, so it would be unfair for either of us to assume you already knew everything.” She said gently. “I don’t record sessions unless I ask the client for permission first. I may make some notes after a session, but I generally prefer to be in the moment so that our conversation can flow more naturally and you feel like you have my full attention.”

“Okay. Yeah, that’s good I guess.” Gavin said, his gaze now trained on the floor.

“So Gavin, what is it you’re hoping to gain from our sessions together?” She asked, watching him. 

At least her gaze somehow didn’t feel intense. That and Gavin had the feeling she would wait as long as he needed to get his words together, which was great since it took nearly two full minutes. 

Usually when he was uncomfortable he could fall back on sharp insults or biting sarcasm to shield him, but he’d promised himself he’d give this an honest try after managing  to drag himself in and that meant not resorting to his usual cop-outs.

“I have a boyfriend.” Gavin finally managed to spit out after a mortifyingly long silence of throat clearing. 

“Congratulations.” The therapist said with a smile. “Can you tell me a little bit about him?”

“His name is Nines, we’ve been dating for, uh, seven months now I think? And he’s an android.” Gavin said, palms up and hands open. He found himself impossibly hoping that alone would miraculously explain all his issues to the therapist without him having to wrangle together more words.

“That does explain why you would seek me out as a therapist.” She said, her smile a little wider than it had been so far. “I haven’t had many new lone human clients since the revolution.” 

“I wanted to make sure I got someone who really understood, you know?” Gavin said. “I didn’t want to waste time on some doc who still thinks androids aren't people or some shit. Plus I figure an android would be a better help for me getting better about...certain stuff than a human would. Better perspective on things, you know?”

“What model is Nines?” The therapist asked, nodding. “That’s always an important bit of context for me.”

“An RK900.” Gavin said, clearing his throat and finding himself watching the therapist’s LED, which indeed flickered yellow before she got it under control.

“I’ve never had the chance to meet someone who’s that model before.” She said, her eyes a bit wide.

“He’s the only one out right now, his series got put on hold after, you know, everything.” Gavin said, waving a hand vaguely. It felt much easier to talk about Nines instead of himself. “They released him to our precinct as a prototype since we were the ones who tested the first RK800 too, Connor. You’ve probably heard of Connor actually, he was all over the news during, you know...” 

Another vague hand wave. 

“Anyway, I got assigned Nines as my partner—I’m a detective by the way—which I’m pretty sure was because my boss hates me, and Nines and I hated each other too for like a month or something, but then we started not hating each other so much, and he’s really amazing actually, and you wouldn’t really think he’s caring since he looks so fucking scary when you first see him, and he can rip the door off a car door like no problem and everything too.”

He could feel himself starting to ramble out of sheer nerves, but found himself unable to stop now that the words had finally started.

“But he’s actually really caring and sweet and looks out for me without making me feel like it’s a problem? And right before we started dating he found this kitten in a rain gutter and took it in and we started teaming up to take care of it and whatever cause I’ve already got two cats. And anyway we’re dating now and I’ve never dated someone I care about this much before, and I feel like I’m always about to fuck it up, and the other day we were talking about maybe moving in together which I know sounds kinda fast but it feels right for us, and it sounded awesome when we were talking about it, but then afterward I started feeling like shit about it, and I’ve never really been good for anyone ever and I’ve got so many issues and I just don’t know how I can possibly be good enough for him long term, you know?”

Gavin rubbed his arm as he forced his ramble to an end, his panic having risen slightly the longer he went, sure the android was going to cut him off any second.

But instead she just nodded, eyebrows raised, but seeming understanding. “Sounds like you’ve really got a lot on your mind, Gavin.”

“Yeah.” He said weakly.

“Well first of all, thank you for sharing this with me.” She said very sincerely. “It sounds like you’re doing a lot of soul searching and feeling vulnerable right now, and I’m glad you trust me enough to share.”

“Well, I mean it’s your job, right?” Gavin shrugged, feeling somehow embarrassed at being thanked for spilling his guts. “If I’m working a case I want all the evidence I can get so I can solve it, I figure it’s the same for you and I’d be an idiot if I tried to keep it back, right? Be a waste of my money not to help you do your job right.”

She chuckled. “That’s definitely one way to look at it, though often most of what I do involves helping people solve the puzzle themself.”

Well that sounded like bullshit to Gavin, she wasn’t even going to fix his problems for him?

“So,” She said. “What I’m hearing is that you are currently in a relationship that you value very much with someone who you feel values you back, and now that you two are coming up on a big relationship milestone you’re starting to have doubts and feel afraid that you aren’t good enough for him? Is that right?”

“Yeah, I guess.” Gavin said, not particularly liking hearing it said so plainly, but relieved at least to have communicated it well enough.

“What are some of the reasons that make you doubt yourself?” The therapist asked. “Everyone has strengths and weaknesses, and it sounds like maybe you’ve got some weaknesses you’re noticing more and wanting to improve if you’ve made the step to come in and see me.”

“Anger issues, rudeness, occasional insubordination.” Gavin said, reciting the most popular topics in his disciplinary file. He scratched the back of his neck, his gaze wandering to the bookshelf.

“And in your personal life?” She asked, clearly seeing through his strategy.

“I don’t know.” Gavin said, hedging as he unconsciously reached for the sequin pillow, fiddling with the edge.

He knew this was probably the part where he was supposed to say well doc, it all started with my dead mom and abusive, alcoholic dad... But despite his earlier claim that he wanted to hand over all the evidence, he found himself suddenly balking.

“I, uh, I don’t really date a lot.” He said, feeling like he was prying the words out of himself. “I’m more of a one night stand kind of guy. I don’t like people thinking I owe them anything.”

He scruffed his fingers through the pillow’s sequins, flipping them from blue to purple and back as he was silent for a long minute, letting his thoughts wrestle themselves out.

“I’m angry a lot.” He finally managed. “Sometimes I try working on it, like when I was in college or when I first joined the force. But then I get tired or forget I guess and I get just as bad again. Or, you know, something happens.”

Like when Hank had slipped into alcoholism after his kid died and Gavin had handled his old friend’s trauma in the worst way possible because of his own issues.

“Would you say that’s your biggest concern?” The therapist asked, considering him without an ounce of judgement in her gaze. “That you’ll revert to old negative behaviors as your relationship with Nines progresses?” 

“I guess.” Gavin said, starting to scrape all the sequins on the left side of the pillow blue. “I uh.” He cleared his throat. “I think I’m extra worried because...because he’s an android. I was really...not great about androids before we met. He’s the one that helped me get my head on straight about it all, you know? So I guess I’m extra worried about going back to how I was because of that. He deserves better than that, and if it’s a lost cause I’d-”

He ducked his head, coughing and scrubbing at something in his eye.

“I, uh, I guess that’s why I’m here. I wanted to get a professional opinion on if I’m too screwed up or not. If I gotta...gotta let him go or whatever I need to do it before we’re both in too deep. I can’t move in with the guy and realize a week later that it was a mistake, I won’t do that to him. He deserves the best, and if I can be that I want to be, but if not I don’t want to hurt him. You know?”

The therapist watched him quietly with a softly understanding expression, her LED flickering blue.

“Have you talked to Nines about this yet?” She asked. “It seems like you two must have a strong relationship if you’ve already overcome so much together and work together professionally.” 

“God, no, I haven’t.” Gavin shook his head, grimacing. “I mean, well, kinda? I mean, he knows about my issues obviously, and he knows all about my parents and everything. I think maybe he probably knows I’m nervous about moving in together, but he doesn’t know I’m here doing this. I mean, maybe he does, he is the world’s most expensive detective.” He said with a chuckle.

“Is there a reason you haven’t talked about it with him yet?” She asked gently.

Gavin felt himself blush a little, picturing Nines’ unimpressed but still caring expression all too well. “Uh, probably because he’d tell me it’ll be fine, that we’ll work through whatever happens together. And that he’s put up with my shit too long already to let me go so easily now.”

The therapist smiled at that. “It sounds like he’s as dedicated to you are you are to him.”

“I guess, yeah.” Gavin said, looking at the pillow.

“It sounds like your main fear is that you’re afraid that you’ll revert to a past version of yourself that you don’t like very much anymore, but it also sounds like you’ve already made some incredible personal steps recently that already put you far apart from the old Gavin, is that right?”

“Well sure, old me never managed to get himself in to see a shrink, no matter how many people told me to.” Gavin said wryly.

“Precisely. And it sounds like you have something and someone you value enough to really put in the effort to make a change. And most importantly,” Her gaze got a little more serious. “It sounds like you’re changing yourself because you are growing and realizing that you want to be better. Putting the responsibility on your partner to make you better is unhealthy, but working to improve yourself because you’re no longer satisfied with the status quo is admirable. Even just the fact that you would be willing to let him go if you wouldn’t make him happy despite how badly you want it to work out says a lot about your motives.”

“Yeah?” Gavin asked, for some reason feeling a little like he might cry. 

“You’re right in knowing that change isn’t easy, breaking old habits and thought processes takes a lot of hard and consistent work, but genuinely wanting to change is the first and hardest step.” She said with a nod. “The fact that you’re here and willing to put in the work to make it stick is a huge deal Gavin, and if you are willing to put in that work then I have no reason to think that you won’t succeed. It’s never easy and there will sometimes be some setbacks of course, but you’ll have all the resources you need to work through it and succeed.”

“O-okay.” Gavin said, voice stupidly fragile. “That’s good I guess. Yeah. Good. That’s good to hear.”

“I think my first homework assignment for you though will be to talk to Nines about your concerns and be honest about your fears about this big potential change.” She said, her smile almost teasing, but not quite. “It’s normal to feel nervous about important relationship milestones, but it can also be an opportunity for both of you to grow closer and learn about each other. Does that sound fair?”

“Yeah, that’s fair. I can do that.” Gavin said, clearing his throat and pulling out his phone to make a reminder that he definitely didn’t need. “I guess talking about my feelings shouldn’t be that much of a surprise for therapy homework, huh?”

“Perhaps not.” She chuckled. “As for the rest of our time together today, I’d like to learn more about you so that we can start getting to know your old Gavin habits better. That way we can tackle them in the best way possible. For the rest of this session and our next visit I’d like to hear everything you feel comfortable telling me that you think is relevant.” She tilted her head a bit. “That is assuming of course that you choose to continue our visits, otherwise I’d be glad to refer you to some other android therapists you might be interested in visiting.”

“Yeah no, I’m coming back, don’t worry.” Gavin said hurriedly, in that moment realizing that he absolutely would be. “I'm not ditching you for another therapist, otherwise I’d have to do the whole almost crying thing again, right? What’s the point in that?”

“Well I'm happy to hear that, Gavin.” The therapist said warmly.

Gavin realized with a silent groan that he didn’t even remember her name, if he’d ever paid attention in the first place after looking up a nearby well rated android therapist online.

“And don’t hate me for this, but I forgot your name already.” Gavin said, trying to sound as not guilty as possible.

“It’s Amelia.” She said with a smile. “You can call me that or Amy if you like.”

“Amy. I can remember that. Amy.” Gavin said with a nod, forcing the name into his long term memory. “So, uh, where should I start?”

“How about you tell me more about Nines?” Amy suggested. “I’d love to hear more about how the two of you managed to end up together.” 

Gavin grinned. “Now that I can talk about for hours.”

#dbh #Detroit: Become Human #RK900 #Gavin Reed #Reed900 #more swears than I usually write because Gavin is a gremlin who will not be overly censored and his therapist is supportive #wit writes #been wanting to write something for DBH for aaaaaages

[angelsswirl]

Petrichor

Nine

Notes: I highly recommend you listen to What If by SafetySuit either before reading or while reading because it fits this chapter so perfectly it took me half an hour to choose which lyrics to use.

"If it makes you sad at me, then it's all my fault and let me fix it please."

"You know your problems won't go away if you hide from them, right?" Lisa asked without looking up from her magazine.

"You know Tiger Beat is a child's magazine, right?" You asked without looking up from your spot on the floor.

Lisa closed the magazine loudly. She huffed and crossed her arms, "As soon as this baby gets out of me, I'm kicking your ass."

"Then who's going to feed Jennie while you're in the hospital recovering from your injuries?"

"I can feed myself, thank you very much."

"I'm not sure you know your left from your right sometimes."

"You're mean when you're scared and upset." Jennie's nose scrunched up. She is not afraid to admit her feelings were a bit hurt. She knew her left from her right, but she was definitely lying about being able to feed herself. She can't cook to save her life.

"I'm not scared or upset."

"You're a pathological liar, too."

"Ladies, ladies you're all pretty! Now, will you shut your traps. My blood pressure is spiking because all of your damn yapping."

"Sorry, mom." Everyone apologized. Even Kameron, who hadn't even been in the original conversation.

All five of you were packed into the medium sized hospital room, save for George whom had to return to work that day.

You sat the closest to your mother, Jennie and Lisa sharing the small cushioned bench built under the window. Kameron sat in an extra plastic chair directly under the suspended 19 inch television, his laptop on his lap currently being used to hack into the hospital's wifi.

"Y/N, apologize for calling Jennie stupid." Maria admonished as she fiddled with the television remote. The buttons were huge, that wasn't the problem. The problem was that the hospital seemed to have only two working channels. Fox News and...oh, the other one just lost signal. Just Fox News.

Maria opted for turning off the television.

"I rather not." You answered plainly. Your knees were tucked under your chin and you still stared at that spot on the linoleum floor.

Maria swatted your thigh.

"Y/N Ariel Y/LN."

You just grumbled.

"Your middle name is 'Ariel'? Like the mermaid?" Jennie started to laugh loudly. She immediately stopped upon the shoe hitting her square in the gut.

"No. Not like the mermaid, Knothead." You gestured for Jennie to give back your shoe. Jennie did so with a scowl.

"Why is she being so mean?" Lisa pouted.

Maria huffed, "Her heat's about to start. So, she's grumpy. Also, she got herself into a unforgiving situation and it's all starting to unravel in front of her." Maria looked as though she had even more explanation to give but thought better of it.

You eyed your mother suspiciously, "How'd you know all that?"

"Mother's intuition."

Lisa's eyes squinted in determination, "Time for 'Operation: Just Pick One! Damn!'."

Everyone nodded along in agreement except for you.

"I've got the Pros and Cons T-Table pulled up!" Kameron gestured to his laptop. Lisa gave him a thumbs up.

You stared at your omega brother, "What do you know about any of this?"

"Oh, Lali and I talk once a week about you because you don't tell us anything. We were going to stage an intervention within the coming week if all of this hadn't happened." He said as though it was obvious.

You just rolled your eyes. Your brother knowing your business was the least of your problems at this point.

"Okay, but if we're going to have this conversation, Jennie has to leave."

"What? Why?"

"Because you're an alpha and you wouldn't get it."

"Try me."

"...Fine."

Lisa clapped excitedly, "Yay! It's finally happening. Kam, make sure you share the spreadsheet with your mom and I." She pulled her MacBook air out of large handbag and then delicately placed Maria's laptop on her overbed table.

Kameron nodded just as excitedly. Maria also nodded appreciatively as the group got their data together.

You wondered when your life got this out of hand.

At least Jennie looked just as lost as you.

"Um, babe? Is all of this necessary? I think you're scaring-"

"Shhhhhh, honey," Lisa blindly pressed a few fingers against Jennie's lips, "I know exactly what I'm doing."

"...ok..." Jennie looked to you with a mildly frightened look on her face. She shook her head slowly as if to say 'I tried. I am so sorry for what you're about to go through."

"Okay. First question! Who have you thought of more recently?" Kameron asked as he typed furiously on his HP.

"I'm not sure what any of this is going to help."

"Answer the question!" Kameron urged.

"God! I'm thinking about them both constantly, but I guess, Rosé because I spoke to her last."

Kameron nodded resolutely and continued to type.

"Next question, if they were both drowning, and you could only save one, who would you save?" Lisa asked, her eyes narrowing intensely at her best friend.

"Jennie, do you feel like this is a trap? Because I feel like this is a trap!" You inquired. You scooted your chair further away from everybody.

Jennie slowly pulled her arm from behind her wife, she then scooted away from her and to the opposite end of the bench, "Yes. This feels exactly like a trap."

"Okay, you don't have to answer that one." Maria glared at Lisa who just shrugged.

"How about this one? Who do you miss the most?"

You threw your hands in the air in exasperation, "Lali asked me that months ago! Don't you think if it was that simple I wouldn't be in this situation right now?! I miss both of them because they won't fucking talk to me! And I don't blame them. I wouldn't want to talk to me either." You sat back into your chair with a watery sigh.

"Can I give it a try?" Jennie raised her hand sheepishly, "Without all the spreadsheets and interrogations." She directed the second part at three specific people.

The three specific people all reluctantly closed their laptops.

"Everyone else is, so why not?"

"Well, first. I think you need to lay off yourself a bit. Yeah, you put yourself and them into a sucky situation, so what? Get over that. There's no going back to change anything, so why wallow in it? Relax and forgive yourself." Jennie spoke softly, her forearms resting against her thighs as she leaned forward.

Your shoulders sagged just enough to let Jennie know she was getting through to you.

"I'm sure you know what traits you value in a partner, and I'm not going to ask you what those traits are because I'm sure Lisa would start to log your answers again. Besides, it's none of our business." Lisa glared at Jennie.

"You just have to apply those traits. Organize your morals which you have clearly been fast and loose with lately. Ask yourself questions like 'Are you really ready to be a family woman? A mother?' And 'Are you okay with your mate having her work really high on her priorities list?' Think about what you want. Think about what you need. Think about who would be the best alpha for you. And then when you have all those answers to all those questions and you're all thinked out. Stop thinking and just go talk to her." Jennie smiled softly as you nodded slowly.

Lisa stared at her wife, her mouth wide opened, "I have absolutely no idea why, but that was the sexiest thing you have ever done." Jennie blushed heavily.

"Yeah, Jen. When did you get to be so smart?" You teased.

"I have a B.S. in Biochemistry from NYU." Jennie deadpanned.

"Yeah but you're a lounge singer. It's not like you're doing anything with it."

"Alright, you got me there."

"Knock, knock. Hello, Mrs. Y/LN. Your discharge papers are ready." The doctor explained as she stood at the door, not wanting to intrude.

"Oh thank God! I was going to jump out the window if it had been another hour."

"Mom!"

"What? You would've too. Now shut up and help me into my clothes."

You did as told.

~•~

Once you were sure your mother was settled at her home with your father. You went back to yours.

You sat heavily on your couch.

Jennie said to think. So, that's what you were going to do.

In the back of your mind, you knew who it was supposed to be the minute Jennie finished talking.

Sometimes, you just need to be told to get over yourself and put things into perspective.

But you chugged on anyway.

If only to double, triple check.

Some thoughts involve Jennie's suggested quandaries and others you came up with all by yourself.

It's about 5 minutes in that you're already noticing a very clear pattern. The same name keeps coming up. Amid 'Yes' and 'Nos' and 'We're just going to have to work on thats'.

It hit you so harshly you're not even sure why this was a struggle to begin with. The revelation just about sucks all the nagging anxiety and subsequent energy out of your brain. This must have been the "thinked out" part Jennie was talking about.

That meant the next step was to stop thinking.

It's easier said than done, but you managed.

The last step.

Just go talk to her.

You nodded with finality.

You were going to do just that, but first you needed to fix something.

~•~

"I'm sorry." You said. You may be done feeling sorry for yourself, but that didn't mean you couldn't feel sorry for others.

"For what?"

"It-I can't keep doing this to you. It's not fair."

"I-I understand, I guess."

"I shouldn't have led you on. Made you think-"

"It's okay, Y/N. It really is. But I'm going to need some time before we can get back to normal if I can ever do that, with you again."

"I get it. I'll see you...later?"

You don't get an answer. Just a pained look and then a sort of wobbly shrug.

You have a feeling that's all you'll get from her for a while. And surprisingly, you're a little more okay with that then you thought you would be.

~•~

Notes: One more chapter left...

#jesssica's fanfic #blackpink fanfic #blackpink #jisoo fanfic #jisoo x reader #petrichor #rose fanfic #rose x reader #abo

[theskyeandsea]

A Seal Out of Water || Ariana & Skylar

Timing: September 28th

Location: Coffee Plus

Tagging: @letsbenditlikebennett & @theskyeandsea

Description: What was intended to be a calm chat over coffee goes slightly awry when a certain unwelcome visitor makes another appearance. Skylar and Ariana inadvertently learn some new secrets about one another.

After her conversation with Ariana online, Skylar had shut her laptop and spent a long time staring hard at her hands. There was so much pain and loss going on in this town. So many people were losing so much. Losing the people they cared about, losing the things that mattered the most, even losing themselves. And… she’d resolved to do what she could to try and stop some of the pain. Which is why she was at the coffee shop now, hoping that Ariana would show. The girl had no obligation to meet with her-- she was an adult, she could make her own decisions and, after all, Skylar didn’t have any real kind of authority over the students at the school. She took a sip from the mug and rubbed her face tiredly. She’d had a long day at work and her wrists hurt a little, but she wanted to be here. She wanted to help. As the door of the coffee shop jingled, she saw Ariana walk in and offered a small wave. “Hey, Ariana.” She said with a soft smile.

In hindsight, maybe dumping the bomb of what happened to Celeste on Skylar had not been her smartest move, but it was no surprise that she’d been kind about it all. Ariana had graciously taken her up on the offer to meet for coffee. While she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to tell her more about what happened, she still couldn't place the different scent that Skylar carried that led her to believe they were more alike than not. If she could just sniff her out again, she could figure it out for sure. Maybe even place it. A small knot of guilt twisted in her stomach. Skylar was being genuinely great, but still, her curiosity was in full swing. She was quick to spot Skylar in the coffee shop and gave her a small wave, “Hey,” she greeted with a small grin that felt out of place somehow, “Thanks for inviting me. I know… Well, I know that was a lot to randomly dump on someone. So this is really cool of you.” 

“It’s okay, really. I’m just glad that you wanted to meet up.” Skylar said her expression warm. She wasn’t sure how best to broach the subject, or if it was even something that Ariana really wanted to talk about. Maybe it was better to just… talk about something else? To pretend that things were normal? But, her sister had died, that sort of thing wasn’t normal. She’d never met the woman before, but she knew that Ariana’s sister was young. Far too young to have died. Then again, she had a feeling that most people thought that they were too young to die. Lifting her coffee mug to her lips, Skylar took a sip before speaking, “Are you-- well,” She paused, shaking her head, “I was going to ask if you were okay, but that’s not quite right. How have you been doing? This summer, but also in general?”

“Yeah, it’s been a while. I think I had just missed you that time Winston was in the hospital… Not that it would have been a happy visit either way, but you know,” Ariana responded still feeling somewhat in an odd place. Skylar was different, that much she could smell out, and she wasn’t great at just ignoring these things. She liked Skylar and didn’t want to do anything to make her uncomfortable, especially not when she was being so kind. She took a sip of the latte she grabbed on the way in and pondered how she wanted to answer that question. The truth was bleak and even more so after having seen some fake version of Celeste. She shifted in her seat and reluctantly answered, “I’ve been… getting by pretty much. Things just keep getting crazier somehow. I just-- I don’t know. I want to keep the people I care about safe and be someone my sister would be proud of, but things just keep-- I feel like I can’t get a grasp on anything outside of class and coaching lately. How’ve you been okay though? You haven’t seen anything strange lately, have you?” 

Swallowing, Skylar nodded wordlessly. She’d heard all about Winston’s trip to the hospital, had tried to visit them when they were there. But, hospitals, they still made her a little uneasy. And, knowing that she wasn’t human didn’t make being there any easier. “Getting by is sometimes all we can do, you know?” She said with a small laugh, rubbing the side of her coffee mug with a rueful expression. It wasn’t much comfort, she knew that. But, it was the truth. Sometimes just waking up and facing the day was a milestone. “Mmm. That’s really noble of you, Ariana. To try and live your life that way. But, you know it’s okay if you’re not there yet, right? It’s okay to take your time, to give yourself time to heal.” She said. As the younger woman asked her about herself, about seeing anything strange, a lump formed in the back of her throat. What hadn’t she seen in this town? The Hall of Mirrors came to mind, the awful… horrible vision of herself curled up on the ground. She’d seen her greatest fear, the ocean, well up from nowhere and drown people in the middle of the town. And just the other day… she’d seen a man emerge from the fog, his chest a caved in mass of bones and gore. “Ah… Not really. Just your usual White Crest forecast. It rained dog toys this morning.” Skylar deflected with another laugh, this one more forced. “My roommate’s dog had a great time with it, though.”

Maybe Skylar was right. Maybe getting by was enough for now, but Ariana hated the feeling of it. She missed feeling excited to take on the day. She missed feeling good. Hell, she’d settle for even just feeling okay at this point, but she’d been on edge ever since she saw Celeste at Kaden’s. As much as she missed her sister, she was so afraid she’d see her again and have to watch the same scene play out all over again. The thought alone made her stomach twist into unsettling knots so she set her coffee mug down on the table. “Yeah, I think you’re right about that. It’d be nice to just be past that part I guess,” she explained as she looked down at the patterns the foamed milk made in her drink. Skylar spoke of how it was okay to give herself time, but was it really? Winn had just died and Ace could be shortly behind him if she let herself take a break from all of this. Then the grieving process would just start all over again and someone else would probably die from something she could have helped with. There was no taking time, not when she had the means to protect others. Still, she responded quietly, “Yeah, maybe you’re right.” She didn’t quite believe it, but it was better than discounting the sentiment entirely. Skylar was only looking out for her after all. While she’d noticed the raining dog toys herself and Luna had an absolute field day with them, that wasn’t entirely what she’d meant. Still, she let out a small laugh. “Oh yeah, I saw that. My dog was having an absolute blast. Brought a few of them home so her toy basket is extra full. That’s not entirely what I meant, but if that’s the weirdest thing you’ve seen recently, then I’ll count that as a win.” She wanted to question further, figure out just what Skylar was, but she wouldn’t push it. 

“That makes sense. It’s kinda cheesy, but there’s that old saying “this too shall pass?” It’ll get better. Things won’t be this way forever.” Skylar said with a hopeful nod, though she wondered if the person who’d said that ever had to deal with the supernatural. If they did, maybe they wouldn’t have said that. As the conversation turned to the talk of dog toys, Skylar couldn’t help but brighten at the way that Ariana’s smile spread across her face. It was good to see her smile, to hear her laugh. If you were still smiling through the hardship, that meant it hadn’t beaten you yet. At least, that had been her perspective through all the rough times. “Aw, that’s really cute. I saw Dundee dragging this giant squeaky toy across the yard, it was about the same size as him. I have a picture, actually.” She said, reaching for her phone. As she reached into the pocket of her jacket, Skylar glanced out the window of the coffee shop. Her eyes widened, phone slipping from her fingers and hitting the ground as she stared in shock.

Emerging from the fog was the young man from before, the one she’d seen with Mina. He looked the same as he had that night, his wet hair plastered against his forehead, dressed in the same soaked, oversized clothes. Though she turned her head away, it was too late. She’d seen the cavern of his chest, a mass of gore and blood, his lungs shredded and destroyed. “Nonononono.” She muttered under her breath, tears springing to her eyes as she fumbled to grab her phone. Skylar looked at Ariana with a panicked expression-- she’d almost forgotten why she was here, who she was here with. “I-- I need to go-- I can’t.” Her eyes flicked back to the window. The man was still standing there. 

“Yeah, everything passes eventually,” Ariana agreed though it only made her want to hold on more tightly to the good times. They seemed to slip away far too easily for her liking. Raining dog toys was a pretty good time though. Seeing Luna so excited on their morning walk had brightened her mood for the day. There had to be something supernatural going on there, too. She sure as hell hoped they didn’t turn into like little cow monsters or giant tennis wrecking balls, but only time would tell. As Skylar pulled out her phone, she cooed over the picture of Dundee toting a squeaky toy bigger than he was. “Oh my god,” she exclaimed with a bit of a giggle coming across, “That is too freaking cute. Love a small dog with some big dog energy.” She related in a way. Small wolf, big personality. It was nice relaxing a bit and actually laughing. She’d been needing to disconnect from everything that had been weighing her down recently. 

As she found herself starting to feel a little bit lighter, Ariana was shocked to find that Skylar looked alarmed. She tilted her head, questioning the change in demeanor and the mutters under her breath, but her gaze quickly followed Skylar’s. “Holy shit,” she breathed out. There was a bloodied man standing outside the window looking straight at Skylar. Was he okay? He definitely didn’t look okay and neither did Skylar. “Wait, Skylar, don’t-- Do you know that guy or something,” she pressed. 

Skylar’s hands were shaking at her sides as she shoved her phone back into her pocket, her coffee long forgotten. How had he found her? Why was he here? She’d assumed that he was like the cultists, that he was bound to the lake in some way. But, he’d come into town and he was staring straight at her. Just as he had that night. “I don’t know who he is-- he…” Skylar bit the inside of her cheek, unsure how to word things. She didn’t want to lie to Ariana, but how could she explain that she’d seen him rise from the lake in the middle of the night, how he definitely should be dead, how he kept asking for someone she didn’t know? “He followed me the other night. I thought I lost him, but he’s back now-- I have to go..” She said, distraught. But, how was she going to get away? The only way out was the front door and he was standing just outside the shop. “I need-- there’s got to be another exit, right?” She said, looking around with desperate, eyes. She didn’t want him anywhere near her, she didn’t want to be forced to look at him for another minute longer. 

The panic in Skylar’s eyes definitely had her worried. Ariana had never seen her quite like this and her protective instinct kicked in. “Hey,” she said soothingly, “It’s okay, we’ll get away from him and if he tries anything…” How was she supposed to explain she could bring the claws out if it came to that? She could tell Skylar was different, so in her usual fashion, she decided to go with the fuck it and tell her what’s up route. “If he is dangerous-- Let’s just say I’m tight with the moon and that comes with some advantages in the strength department,” she explained as she quickly scanned the place for another exit. It was past the employee area, but she pointed anyway. “Over there, it looks like there’s an employee exit around back. Probably not allowed back there, but some rules are meant to be broken.” Probably not what Skylar wanted to hear, but she urged, “Come on.” She led the way to the back exit ignoring the protests from some of the employees with a wave of her hand. When they emerged into the alley, she was shocked to see how quickly Mr. Spooktastic made it to the alley. She narrowed her eyes and let out a low growl. “What do you want, creep?” 

“Tight with the moon?” Skylar repeated, confused by what she meant by that. But, she didn’t really have time to ask any more questions-- she just wanted to be away from the man. She didn’t like the way that he kept asking her about someone she didn’t even know. She didn’t like the way he stared at her, as though he kept waiting for her to recognize her. She’d never seen him before, she didn’t know him. She wasn’t even sure what he was. “The exit, yeah-- let’s… let’s go.” She said with a nod before following close behind Ariana. But, as soon as they were out of the building, the man was there. Stock still, hands at his sides, palms facing them. He looked… as though he was trying to keep them calm. “Eliza-- why don’t you recognize me? It’s me. It’s Ben.” He said, gesturing to himself, hands pointing to the gore-slick cave of his chest. “Please, I spent so long looking for you. I just wanted to make sure you were safe. That everyone’s safe.” His expression turned pained at those words and, not for the first time, Skylar wondered what had happened to him. How had he gotten those wounds? And what, what was he?

Another time, she could answer questions about being tight with the moon, but right now, Ariana was far more concerned with making sure Skylar was safe and okay. Why was this clearly very injured guy calling her Eliza? That was definitely not her name. Her eyes narrowed as she did her best to keep herself between Skylar and this obviously very confused man. There was the hum of a low growl on her lips as she did her best to stand between them. “Listen, dude, I don’t know what your deal is, but her name’s not Eliza and you need to leave her alone.” The injury on his chest was pretty alarming though and she almost felt bad for him, but Skylar was way higher on her priority list than whoever this stalker was. She looked to Skylar concerned, “You don’t know him, right? Because I’m definitely not above punching stalkers.”  

First Mina, now Ariana-- both of them had put themselves between herself and this strange man. And Skylar, she didn’t want that. She didn’t want people jumping between her and danger, putting themselves in the line of fire. They didn’t need to do that for her, they didn’t. She could-- she should-- hold her own. She had to be braver, had to be stronger. She wanted to be everything that she was supposed to be, instead of everything she was. Swallowing, Skylar put a hand on Ariana’s shoulder, squeezing gently. She hoped that would be enough to convince the girl to let her slip past without a fight. And, before she knew it, Skylar found herself face to face with the drenched, bloodied man. He studied her, stared at her face for a long hard moment. His eyes were just as blue and inscrutable as before, the color of the sea before the storm. In any other circumstance, she might have liked his eyes, but not now. “I’m not Eliza, please. Who is she? Can you tell me more about her? I could help you find her, just tell me who you are. Maybe I can help.” She said, pleading with the man, with… Ben, that’s what he’d called himself. “Ben--” 

At his name, the man’s face contorted, an expression of pain and frustration on his face. “Don’t say my name! If you’re not Eliza, don’t say my name!” He howled. Skylar flinched, taking a step back away from her. But, as she did so, the man pressed forward. His hands curled around the front of her jacket, holding her still. “Where is she? You look, you… How are you not her? How are you not my Liza?” He said, still staring at her, hand reaching out to touch her face.

Every instinct in Ariana was screaming to not let Skylar go around her, but she could smell she was different. She had to trust she knew what she was doing even if this whole situation seemed off. Her eyes remained glued on the man as he spoke. His body language didn’t seem like he was ready to attack, not that she was sure he could in his condition, but she still felt inclined to make sure he didn’t try anything shady. With some concentrated effort, she took some deep breaths to keep herself calm. She was always so ready to hop right into a fight, but Skylar was ready to help this man if she was able to. Skylar was kind like that, but Ariana was still hesitant. He seemed so troubled, but Ariana couldn’t find it in her to trust him. As he reached his hand towards Skylar’s face, a barely audible growl rumbled in her throat and she gave him a glare that screamed he better watch himself. 

Skylar was only able to pick up on the strange rumble that rose from the back of Ariana’s throat thanks to her hearing aids, the receiver barely picking up the sound. It was a sound of warning, one that implied violence. But, the man didn’t seem to notice it. He reached out and ran the pad of his thumb against her cheek, brushing some of the hair from her face. “You look so much like her. Who are you? Where’s my Liza?” He repeated. Unnerved by how close he was to her-- and very aware of the bloody mess of his torso-- Skylar took a halting step back from him. “I don’t know who she is, but my name’s Skylar. Please, I don’t know who Eliza is. Are you from White Crest? I can help you find her, if you can give me her full name.” As she spoke, she noticed that his eyes were focused on her lips, watching the way she formed words. Was he… Holding her hands up in a tentative sign, she signed while she spoke, “Are you hard of hearing?”

The man stared at her, staring from her hands back to her lips. Tilting his head, he pointed to her teeth. “Are you… are you one of the sea folk?” He asked, lips parting in a jagged smile, his mouth full of curving sharp teeth. Teeth that looked just like hers. She hadn’t imagined it. He was like her

It was hard to tear her eyes away from the man’s battered torso. Was he real? Was he a ghost? Was this another weird White Crest illusion? Ariana had no way of telling, but she let Skylar handle this. When he smiled, she noticed his teeth were jagged just like Ricky’s and suddenly pieces started coming together. The way Skylar had a similar scent to Ricky and how she was hard of hearing just like him. It brought some clue as to why the man was following her, but not a full picture. “You’re a selkie,” she said to both of them plainly. Maybe she had been unnecessarily defensive earlier, but her protective instincts were in high swing as of late. “Sorry, I,” she started unsure of where she was going with this. “What do you need? How can we help you,” she asked.

At the sound of the word selkie, Skylar flinched. How did Ariana know about selkies, how did she realize what they were? Was she a part of this supernatural world too? Was that why she’d said that strange thing about the moon? Her fingers gripped the long sleeves of her shirt tightly, her knuckles whitening. She didn’t-- no. No, no. She was trying to accept this, trying to accept what she was by being the best… selkie she could be. Swallowing, Skylar nodded. “I’m a selkie.” She said. The words sounded more steady and confident than she felt, which she was glad for. She didn’t want them to know that some part of her still hated what she was. The man stared at her, his confusion only growing. “White Crest? No… I don’t know where that is. Where am I?” He asked, shaking his head. “I need,” The man, Ben, growled grasping his head with his hands. “I need to find her.” 

Before Skylar could say another word, the man backed out the alley, the fog closing around him. Though she wanted to go after him, to see where he’d gone, her legs had turned to lead and refused to move. Instead, Skylar glanced over at Ariana, despair on her face. “I’m… I’m so sorry. I didn’t-- I didn’t mean for that to happen.”

The pieces of the puzzle came together and Ariana realized maybe that this had been an inopportune moment, but the injured man in front of them was clearly also a selkie. Were they connected somehow? It was hard to tell with the current level of White Crest bullshit going on. Then again, when was there not something crazy going on here? As much pain as it caused her, she wouldn’t trade the connections she’d made for anything. “Cool,” she answered, letting Skylar know that she was totally okay with selkie. She quickly added, “I’m a werewolf and practically Walking Dead dude over here is clearly also a selkie so we should probably--” She cut herself off as she realized how confused the man was and let Skylar take the wheel. Whatever their relationship, this felt like something personal so she took a step back. However, it seemed useless as more fog started rolling in and he faded away. She frowned and reached out though it wasn’t of much use. “Shit,” she muttered under her breath and took a step closer to Skylar. “Hey,” she assured calmly, “You don’t need to be sorry. That wasn’t your fault. Are you okay though?” 

Still staring into the fog, Skylar didn’t process what Ariana had said until the man had completely faded from view, not a trace of him to be found. Werewolf? Startled, Skylar immediately turned to face the girl. “Wait, what? You’re… you’re a werewolf?” She asked, taken completely off-guard by the revelation. “That’s-- mmmmmm.” Skylar hummed nervously. She tried to steady herself, taking measured, careful breaths as her mind raced. Ariana was a werewolf. And that man, he was a selkie, just like she was. But he wasn’t really, he was… dead? Walking Dead-- no, he wasn’t a zombie, he didn’t look like Remmy or Morgan, they’d never looked like he had. Not even the night that Skylar had seen Remmy get torn to pieces, the black blood flecked across their face, their organs-- Shutting her eyes tightly, Skylar backed up against the wall of the alley. Her head was spinning, her breath coming in quick, sharp gasps. It was too much, it was all too much. She felt lightheaded and the collar of her shirt felt suddenly too tight around her neck. “Mm mm.” She shook her head at Ariana’s question. She wasn’t alright, none of this was alright.

This whole experience was clearly overwhelming to Skylar. Ariana thought revealing herself since Skylar had been revealed would bring some comfort, but she was wrong and she wanted to smack herself for it. “I am,” she answered more quietly this time, looking down at her feet momentarily. The fog was coming in quick, but by the rapid beat of Skylar’s heart and how her breathing sounded, Ariana knew she wasn’t in fact okay as she stated. “No you’re not,” she started, keeping her voice low and even to calm her down. “Deep breaths,” she instructed, “It’s going to be okay, just keep taking deep breaths, alright?” She wanted to reach out, but was unsure if that would make her more or less tense. 

The wall was cool against the back of her head and Skylar did her best to focus on her breathing like Ariana was telling her. She was trying, she was trying so hard to be… okay with everything. But how could she be okay with what she’d seen, with the revelations that seemed to occur on a near daily basis? How could she ever feel okay about any of this? How would any of it be okay? Ariana… was a werewolf. And, and, she’d lost her sister earlier this year. Had a hunter done it? Had her sister been like her? Had she been hunted? Had her sister stared down the barrel of a gun, just as Skylar had, and been unlucky? Bile filled the back of her throat as Skylar remembered that night, the way that man had signed at her. How he had used the language she loved to promise her death. Shaking her head back and forth, Skylar forced herself to open her eyes and look at Ariana. “I-I-I--” She stammered, her rapid breathing ruining her train of thought, “I’m s-sorry.” She managed.

From what Ariana could hear, Skylar’s heart was still racing even as she tried to focus on her breathing. There was no telling what was going on in Skylar’s head and how she could help, but she tried to just be there and take the lead by doing deep breaths alongside her. Her eyes widened at the apology and she shook her head. “You don’t have to be sorry,” she stated calmly. She slung her backpack over her shoulder and took out a bottle of water and handed it to her. It was something small that could maybe help. “Here,” she offered as she handed the water to Skylar, “This might help, too.” Whatever the hell just happened had left her own head spinning, but it seemed to be resonating more deeply with Skylar. Somehow all her other worries seemed to fade away realizing a good person needed her help. “Look, I don’t know what that was or what’s going on, but everything will be okay again eventually. Just gotta keep breathing.” 

Ariana’s deep breathing provided a calming rhythm that Skylar forced herself to follow, syncing her own breaths to it like a metronome. She had to calm down, she needed to… to just think. She needed to process everything that had happened. The man’s return. Ariana’s identity as a werewolf. The horrifying confirmation that the man, that Ben, was a selkie too. And that he’d met some kind of gruesome, deadly fate. Just gotta keep breathing. Ariana’s words echoed in her ears. Just gotta keep breathing. With a hum and a nod, Skylar did her best to calm herself. In. Out. In… Out. 

Skylar just had to keep her head above water, had to keep breathing. It would get better, things would be okay eventually. She knew that. But everything this town threw at her, it was weighing her down, filling her pockets with stones that dragged her further and further down. How could she keep breathing when it felt like the world wanted to see her drown?

#p: asoow #p: ariana bennett #chatzy #wickedswriting

[transcendencism]

love questions for Thyroh?

Who said “I love you” first?

Theron, most likely, if only because Hyroh was waiting for him to say it first. And it’s not because Hyroh was afraid to say it himself; he was honestly ready to say “I love you“ when he woke up from carbonite in Theron’s arms. Rather, he knows how difficult relationships can be for Theron to navigate, and so he waited for Theron to sort through those complicated feelings and finally feel comfortable enough to say it.

I don’t think it took until the last chapter for The Eternal Throne for Theron to say “I love you” though. I think it was earlier, between Hyroh’s duel with Arcann and the Eternal Empire’s invasion of Voss. I’m torn between Theron actually deciding to say “I love you” or it coming out without him thinking about it because he was so terrified that he was going to lose Hyroh (like right after his duel with Arcann). On the one hand, I think there’s a particular impact of Theron making the conscious decision to finally state it out loud, but also... I’m a really big fan of characters blurting “I love you” when the object of their affection is gravely injured.

What are their primary love languages?

For Hyroh, it’s quality time and physical touch (which can pretty often go hand-in hand). Hyroh feels loved best just when... Theron’s with him. It honestly doesn’t take much more than that. Whether it’s trying (and often failing) to cook a meal together, or going on a long walk through the the woods on Odessen. And, of course, plenty of cuddles and kisses can’t hurt.

Theron is kind of bad at giving words of affirmation (at least at first), but he really appreciates receiving them. He knows Hyroh loves him, and most of the time he doesn’t doubt it, but sometimes old memories and insecurities pop up and he just needs to be reminded through words.

I think he’s also very fond of quality time, as well as acts of service. He and Hyroh both spend a lot of quality time together once they retire, but Theron also takes on a lot of chores when he knows Hyroh isn’t feeling well. It’s not totally unbalanced where Theron is the only one doing chores, but it’s something that he offers to do for Hyroh when he’s having an off day. (This goes back to the quality time thing, but they actually do a lot of chores like laundry, cleaning, dishes, etc. together)

Putting the rest under the cut because fuck this got LONG

How often do they cuddle/engage in PDA?

Oh man, these two are joined at the hip when it comes to cuddling. Hyroh is just one cuddly dude, and considering Theron has spent most of his life touch-starved, it catches him off guard at first, but he comes to appreciate it pretty quickly. I’ve got a whole headcanon about Theron leaning into Hyroh’s touch, to the point where sometimes when Hyroh pulls away, Theron will lean just a little bit into where he just was, trying to chase the touch. He’s touch-starved, I’m telling you.

They aren’t obnoxious about PDA or anything, but they’re not shy about it either, once they’re Officially Dating (not that there was a time when they actually asked each other “do you want to be my boyfriend?”, it just kind of... happened.) Hyroh and Theron will occasionally hold hands in the middle of a meeting, and Hyroh usually greets Theron by touching his shoulder or his back, even in public.

What are their favorite things to do together?

Just going on walks through Odessen! Their favorite way to sneak away from meetings is to go hikes through the wilds, and Theron’s pretty much mapped out the whole place. When they end up moving off the base to their own apartment in the residential area, they love having picnics out there.

Also, based on some cut dialogue about Theron and Torian, I imagine Hyroh and Theron have gone hunting together once or twice. Of course, Mando game hunting is pretty different from Cathar game hunting.

Who’s better at comforting the other?

It depends on what they need comfort for. Theron’s particularly good at being a voice of reason for Hyroh’s more irrational thoughts and worries. Hyroh can get really carried away by his feelings, so having Theron provide a different perspective and guide him away from making rash decisions is really helpful to him.

On the other side of the coin, Hyroh is a really good listener, and pretty much unconditionally accepting of Theron. Whereas Hyroh can get entirely carried away by his emotions, Theron can have a hard time actually figuring out what he’s feeling, and Hyroh’s pretty good at helping him untangle that.

I don’t like the idea that one is “better at comforting” than the other, because... that goes against what Theron and Hyroh’s whole Thematic Elements are about. And that’s also the whole point of them having really strong friendships with other people too: for example, it isn’t like Theron doesn’t like talking to Hyroh about his relationship with the Jedi, but it’s not an experience that Hyroh can relate to. And it doesn’t help that Hyroh was a highly respected member of the Jedi Order, and even though any resentment Theron had about Hyroh being the Jedi he could’ve been is long gone, he feels more comfortable talking about that with someone like Yiress or Oriothe.

Meanwhile, Hyroh has an easier time talking about the bad choices he made in response to the Emperor with Kira or K’tasi, because that’s an experience that they personally understand. Again, Hyroh doesn’t dislike talking about it with Theron, but there’s only so much Theron can do to help. (Not to mention that talking about mystical Force stuff is, and will always be, a sore topic for Theron, and Hyroh respects that and goes to someone else to talk about that)

Who’s more protective?

To be honest...? It might be Theron?

I think long ago, before the carbonite incident, Hyroh was more protective of Theron than vice versa. Hyroh respected Theron, and he knew he was capable, but he still had it in his head that... it wasn’t that he thought Force-blind people were weaker or anything, but he was afraid that Theron wouldn’t be able to defend against the kind of crazy powerful Force-sensitives they were facing. After all, if Hyroh had fallen to the Emperor once, what was stopping something worse from happening to Theron. He was also trying to exert so much control onto his circumstances to keep things from getting out of hand (which was something of a self-fulfilling prophecy: because Hyroh was expending so much energy on trying to stop what he was afraid would happen, he ended up burning himself out and thus The Thing happened anyway), and part of that was keeping Theron safe.

Ziost was really when things turned around: aside from that minor hiccup of crashing his shuttle and Hyroh going to fish him out (but by that point, Theron had taken care of Vitiate’s pawns coming to get him), Theron really proved that he could handle himself, and it was Hyroh that got hurt. And it wasn’t just physical strength: Theron made a mistake, and there was never a point on Ziost where he denied it or made excuses for himself. He took full responsibility for that disaster.

And it all finally clicked when Hyroh, still bedridden on Tython from having been controlled by Vitiate (again), asked Theron to come with him. Theron had just been put on administrative leave from the SIS, and without the SIS to back him up, Hyroh offered him a place on his crew. Hyroh was scared of something happening to Theron, he wanted to protect him. But Theron told him that, no, his place was with the SIS. He wasn’t going to give up on that. It was that moment, his actions on Ziost, and years later when Theron came to get him out of carbonite that made Hyroh realize just how strong Theron is. That isn’t to say he doesn’t ever get protective, he definitely does, but he’s not nearly as overbearing as he used to be.

So, the reason why I say Theron is more protective is... well, you see the shit Hyroh has to face. You see the kind of monsters he’s slain. Theron operates behind the scenes, he works from the shadows, and that is definitely not difficult work by any means. But Hyroh faces things that Theron doesn’t understand, and I think his lingering insecurities about being Force-blind can sometimes come back to bite him because... there isn’t much he can do to protect Theron from people like Valkorion/Vitiate. There isn’t much he can do to defend him from Arcann and Vaylin. Unfortunately, it’s not a battle that can be won through wit and cleverness.

It’s scary for Theron, because he dealt with the Emperor once on Ziost. He knows firsthand the kind of catastrophic destruction he can cause, and it scares the shit out of him that Hyroh is expected to single-handedly fight that kind of power.

Do they prefer verbal or physical affection?

Generally speaking, they’re both physical affection kind of people, however Theron does need words of affirmation now and then.

What are some songs that apply to their relationship, in-universe or otherwise?

I have an entire playlist dedicated to them.

What kind of nicknames do they call each other?

Neither of them have names that can be shortened to nicknames. However, pet names get thrown around a lot. Hyroh is quite fond of “ra svetlobi” (my dear), but the classic “honey” and “babe” are great too. I don’t imagine Theron being particularly crazy about pet names, but he also strikes me as a “babe” kind of man. Maybe that’s just because it’s my favorite pet name.

[ask meme]

#shanfamilydrama #oc: hyroh kaah #ch: theron shan #otp: the feeling's mutual #answered asks #asks: hyroh kaah #sORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG #i just. love these two so much...

[funkymbtifiction]

Hi guys! I I'm an ENXP and I was looking for some advice about knowing myself better. I saw the mods are ENPs and maybe you guys could help me. I recently noticed a pattern regarding my own actions that is basically ruining my life. I seem to rely too much on my Ne, specially about my future and my career. I'm ruled by a need of pursuing anything that catches my attention in a determined moment. I obsess over it for a while and then move on. I've changed my major 4 times now. Every activity I do is temporary. And if I don't find something I can obsess over I get depressed and bored. Anyways, I think this has led me to not trust myself anymore, since I can't commit to anything because I lose interest in everything and I'm always looking for new possibilities. I have reached a point where I can't allow myself to pursue everything I want and I have to make decisions and commit. But I'm too scared to become trapped and take responsibility for my own decisions. I think this would be easier if I knew myself better, but I don't think I know who I am besides my own random interests, which is weird I guess. How can I develop my own Fi? Or Ti? How do you guys deal with your dominant Ne? How do you commit to things? I'm 23 by the way. Shouldn't I have developed some Fi or Ti or something by now? I turned to mbti because I wanted to gain a better understanding of myself but holy shit this is hard. I could only recognize my dominant Ne. All this self analysis seems useless if I don't really know myself, I realized I'm not self aware at all. So anyways, as fellows Ne doms how did you guys developed your auxiliary functions? Any advice will be amazing! Thank you guys for everything you do here!

The first thing you need to do is recognize is you are an Enneagram 7 and all of this is ‘normal’ for them in lower health levels. To overcome this, you have to ‘grow up’ as a 7 and stop allowing fear of commitment or quick loss of focus from dominating your life. You have control over yourself, you are not utterly helpless to your whims (said the Fi user who has a moral tone of ‘you make your own choices and messes and you have to get out of them’ ;).

7s have to learn to be open to the scary idea of commitment to reap the dividends of hard work.

Read the 7 profile and see how allowing yourself to ‘run away’ from commitment (which includes not finishing or devoting yourself to any project) can hinder your life. Once you recognize WHAT you are doing, and WHY you are doing it, you can develop the power to STOP YOURSELF from doing it, or from allowing ‘excuses’ or fear to run you away from good things.

ENTP Mod. : Charity is right. Here is also where the judging functions come into play. With Fi, you can eventually weed out that which you aren't personally passionate about/ those goals which don't align with your personal values. With Ti, you can see a chain reaction of the patterns in your life, and determine the most effective path to help yourself using logic to streamline your processes, make it more elegant.

Slow the hell down. Force yourself to stop running toward the future and live right now. Repeat the mantra of ‘right now is all that matters today’ a 100 times an hour if you have to. Be present. Be invested. Bring yourself into ‘now.’

My co-mod is a 7w6 ENTP who suffers from a lot of the same issues; I will nudge her to offer her two cents to this post, in regards as to what she is currently doing about it. Basically, she had to talk herself into getting a permanent job rather than talking herself out of it. Once she got into it, she realized it didn’t suck as much as she feared. Her brain is her own worst enemy.

I had to talk myself into this job. I gave myself lots of reasons why I would love it. It might sound a little unrealistic going in with pre set expectations but at least you will not go in blind. Making a pros cons list is always a good idea. It helps to sift through your multiple ideas, and narrow down the ones which can really work. Test out the feasibility of your ideas, opportunities before hand. Talk to people, do your research. Just remember that things will never be as bad or boring as you think them to be. This is a cliche but something which helps me in the mornings when I know I have boring work to do is "Get up, dress up, show up. Never give up." Also it helps to live from day to day. Don't worry too far into the future, you never know what variables might upset your plans.

Work-wise, a 7 needs to travel, get the ‘high’ of meeting new people, and not to be involved in sheer detail-driven grunt work. They need challenges to work toward and obstacles to overcome. Pick a career that offers you all of that. If you do not, you will have a string of 6 months at ___ jobs that do not look good on your resume. Find a career in something that you feel passionate about, that offers some kind of mental stimulation.

ENTP 7 co-mod is an attorney who loves to find ways to ‘get around things’ in the law.

ENTP Mod. note: Always try to remember the root of your passion when you feel like defecting from one option to another. If you must leave, leverage what you have learned in one place and how you can dress that up to make your hopping about look good. That's what I did, and it worked for me. Some of the reasons I love my job are the constant intellectual stimulation, creative aspects of it, my love for criminology pays off, meeting interesting people. Sure there are sucky days when you have to deal with the bureaucratic demons. But that won't be every day. Unless your role requires you to do something like it. In which case I would suggest that you avoid picking up detail heavy, low Si or adherence related work which will make you feel miserable and frustrated. Try to pick something that plays to your strengths, improve your weaknesses. Compete with nobody but yourself. Every day you are better than you were, yesterday. Even with a little effort. It is important to not give up. It is so hard for 7s but we have the gift of rationalizing. So instead of using it as a mechanism to justify dropping things, use it to tell yourself why you should stick around. You as a 7 can make most things fun. So find little tricks and ways to make the work day fun. Whether it is achieving small, impactful targets or making games out of small, low stakes things. Also, having money and being able to live nicely is fun. Nobody is gonna pay you if they think that their money will be wasted on training you if your pattern is just leaving jobs. It took me a long time to develop this perspective but I am glad I did.

I (ENFP 6w5 sp/so) chose a career in magazine editing, because it gives me time to do what I actually love, which is write novels. I’m afraid I can’t give you advice from my own life that would work for you, because a 6w5 sp/so is far more focused and driven to finish their projects than a 7w6, which means I push through ‘the boring, tedious bits’ of projects regardless of how ‘excited’ I am. It’s not fun to edit a book 7 times, but I still do it. I force myself to show up to work, to sit there for 3 or 4 hours, and commit to X amount of words, pages, etc.

Do you think it’s “fun” for me always to keep this queue stocked, or to type up characters at the end of a long day because the queue is low? Or go back and update old profiles and move them from this blog onto wordpress? No. I hate it sometimes. It’s boring as hell. But I committed to it, I will see it through, even though looking into my “to update” folder makes me want to scream. I tackle huge projects one step at a time. I’m disciplined but I can procrastinate at work, rather than doing whatever needs doing.

Which really is the bottom line. You want to finish things? Just do them. Force yourself to show up and do the work, even if it’s “boring.” Most of life isn’t fun. Paying the bills isn’t fun. You do boring stuff to make a living, so you can have the money to do fun things. If you do not learn to do it, whether or not it is fun, you will wind up ‘stuck at home this month, because I have no money.’

That frustrates a 7 even more than being bored at work.

Accept that your fear of commitment is a fear-driven lie.

You are not going to get trapped by committing to something or someone. Head types massively over-think things and allow fear – in the 7’s case of “missing out” on better things – to dominate their life. Admit it’s fear. Admit that allowing fear to ruin your entire life is stupid. Then do something against the fear. Do the thing fear tells you not to: commit and work at it. Fight the urge every day to leave. Stick it out, and prove you ‘can’ to yourself.

Middle functions. You’re in college so you should be seeing either some Ti analyzing or Te “buckle down and set goals and get this schoolwork finished by the deadline” kicking in. Are you more inclined to self-doubt and beat yourself up like a young FiTe user after ‘failing’ to organize your time efficiently or to make excuses and blame external circumstances like a young TiFe user?

My Fi has always been strongly evident, though I didn’t know what it was at the time. Things that set off a NOPE response in me vs. the ‘rest of everything, which I don’t care about.’ The intense sensitivity as a child. The compassion for other people and especially for small animals. The understanding of emotional dynamics and how people ‘feel.’ The constant angst between caring too much about people’s feelings and being low Te blunt or rude when I’m having an off day. The ‘going away from everyone’ to deal with my feelings in private. I have always fiercely, Fi-ishly known what I like and do not like, and have no ability to ‘tolerate’ things that I do not like. Once, I didn’t like half the people seated at my table at a public event, so I shut down completely and did not say a word to anyone at the table for two hours. My Fe friend also hated them, but smiled and charmed them all. Lucky girl. She can fake her feelings. I can’t.

- ENFP Mod

#enneagram #enneagram 7 #enfp #entp #mbti #7w6 #entp mod

[kryptsune]

Hi you are an amazing writer i was wondering if you have any tips on salvaging a story that was derailed by a brain fart cause uh i was writing a short story that turned out to be longer and harder to read for anyone thats not myself and now i cant barely look at it... so can i have tips or advice please?

🌼Sorry for the late reply on this I wanted to be able to take the time to give you my own personal advice. First of all, thank you for the kind words :D I am so happy that you enjoy my writing. 

Tips tips tips. Well, there are a couple of things you can do and I have personally done myself. If you feel as though a story has gotten out of hand there is nothing wrong with that at all. I never planned to have either Felldritch or Wonderfell having their own fics in the first place but I enjoy writing for them so much that it was a logical progression. It is difficult for me to assess your personal investment in the project and from what I am reading it seems you no longer are passionate about it?  The truth of the matter is that writing has to be something you enjoy in order to do stories. Sure you can pump out chapter after chapter but it won’t have that spark and why would you put yourself through that suffering in the first place? Sometimes stories are hard to read for others just because of their personality. I have a lot of friends that enjoy my work but haven’t read the story because it is massive. That is something I am keenly aware of often. Welcome to the Underworld is not for the faint of heart or for casual readers and I understand that. It’s not for everyone. I appreciate it when people at least try, however, it is a good way for me to gauge interest at the very least. 

I will break this into 3 parts. The first will be revaluating your current story/project and the second will be things you can do that might make it easier for your readers if you still feel you want to continue it and lastly what you can do to possibly get that passion back if so you can “look at it again.” 1. Evaluating your project: As artists and creatives, we tend to latch onto our work because we put our own personal investment into it. I usually use the analogy that it is like our child and it can be difficult to care for sometimes and yet rewarding at others. This is the first thing you want to do if you are working on a project. Always evaluate. Do you enjoy it anymore?  Do you feel stuck? Is it just not going the way you want it to? Writer's block maybe? All of these can be factors into why you may not enjoy it any longer. 

I felt this with WTU for the longest time and now looking back on it...it was for the wrong reasons. I felt that no one wanted to read it after hours upon hours of writing and editing. It made me sad and I didn’t understand why. The thing is I have changed my mindset when it comes to this. It is hard for me to accurately gauge who reads my work without some kind of feedback but I have a goal. I set out to write an extensive and world built Fell verse and I am going to do it. It’s important to me and it is rewarding just to know that I can do a project as large as the three acts of WTU. Ask yourself why are you writing the story? What are your roadblocks? This will help you come to a decision. 

2. Easing the Readers: If you read my writing you will notice I have a tendency to write a fair bit. Every chapter of WTU ranges from about 15-20 pages of text 11 point font in google docs. That is a lot. I actually have not gone and calculated the word count on it but yeah, a lot. There are simple things you can do however to make the reading a little more digestible for people. 

a. Formating: I never had a problem with reading large blocks of text. That was how I was taught in middle and high school. That said others struggle with large blocks because it makes it difficult to read from a visual perspective (the irony that I am using block text right now). What you can do is break up your paragraphs more often. I have started to do this with older WTU chapters seeing as there are a lot of text blocks. It is a simple and relatively hassle-free way to make it easier. 

b. Pacing: I am by no means the expert of fics however there are some things that I notice in fics that tend to pop up quite frequently. I am not saying to change these things by any means but to evaluate and possibly adjust when needed. PACING. I can’t tell you how many stories I have read with poor or confusing pacing. What I mean by this is that the story is either holding too long in a certain scene or there is no breathing room. WTU and a lot of my fics have dark undertones to them which creates drama and emotional payoff, however, doing this constantly and throwing problem after problem into a story is hard to swallow. The readers need a break. This can be anything from levity to simple character interactions. Not everything is fights or angst. 

This also goes for fics that have none of the former as well. There are so many that are a slice of life and that is fine! Enjoy your cute fluffy fics that said if there is no conflict then what is the point of continuing to read the story? What is holding my investment? Sure the characters can be written well but the point of storytelling is connection. A perfect butterflies and rainbows story is all well and good but you can’t connect to it. That is not how life is. (I am pontificating a little bit but I am honestly really tired of having to explain to people that my fics are M for a reason. No NSFW stuff but rather real-life mental and psychological and emotional situations.)

c. Characters: This kind of also ties into what I was talking about before. A flawless character... is a boring one. Some of peoples favorite characters are the villains, why? Because unlike their heroic counterparts they feel real. They go through things and make their own path. If they just chose differently then things would be different. A lot of times (and no offense to fandom) I find that people make stereotypes of a character. It’s all surface-level stuff. Think about what makes you, you. What have you gone through that causes you to think a certain way or react to things? Our lives are made up of experiences and moments and characters are the exact same way. Most don’t realize this since I hint it throughout the story but everything tells a story. The character's costumes tell a story whether that be the place they live of their own personal style. Why does my Red wear a collar with a seemingly half-broken, fused, and burned chain link? I don’t know... you tell me. 

It’s a storytelling technique called breadcrumbing. This is used to hint to some sort of plot or payoff. A foreshadowing at times. It is an incredibly useful and engaging tool if done properly. I would use my “why does Red do what he does” example but its been beaten to death so I will use Boss as my example instead.   

Boss is the Head of Royal Guard having bested Undyne a long time ago but not everyone was happy with the change of the Guard and that is communicated in character dialogue. In fact, you can use this method to hint to character connections as well. Boss has claw marks in both his scarf and his left eye socket. So.... who could do that kind of damage? If you have read the story *mild Snowdin spoiler* Frisk meets Doggo. An Australian cattle dog-wolf mix that has no love for the current Captain. He was tossed out of the Royal Guard after altercation... maybe attacking a certain lanky skeleton perhaps? It’s not directly stated but certain visual ques could lead someone to that kind of assumption. 

Intertwine your characters, their relationships, their life events. All of this will create far more dynamic storytelling and investment.

d. Planning: Returning back to potential writers' block... I find that something that personally helps me is outlining. I have all of my stories planned out from beginning to end while the middle can be moved around accordingly. That said in every single chapter I outline the main points I want to communicate. It helps with the organization but also keeping your thoughts on track. If you feel you need an extra chapter for character development then you can totally plan that out. Don’t be afraid to change things. It’s your story do what you feel is best for it! 

e. Editors/betas/outside eyes: This is a huge one and can be a little challenging at first. It is helpful to have others look at the work. Those that you trust. Have them look for grammar or even pacing and character inconsistencies. It can be hard to get a critique on your work that you love so much however this makes you far better writer IF IT COMES FROM A REPUTABLE SOURCE. 

I need to clarify this as you cannot please everyone. I have rejected critiques from my beta readers in the past, not because I think I know better but because even they can’t account for your overall thought process. What they think is superfluous may come to have a payoff later on and it needs to be in there for that payoff. That can be anything from character development to plot.  You have to be strong in your conviction. Say yes and no when appropriate and always be kind to your readers. They are taking time out of their lives to help you with your work. The same goes for the betas. Be respectful and kind when giving CONSTRUCTIVE feedback and don’t be offended when the author does not agree. 

3. Breaking the Block: Breaking any kind of block is not easy. In fact, it is a constant nuisance in any creative field. That said there are some simple things that you can do to help. The best example I can give is taking a break. That can range from person to person but generally, sometimes you work on something for so long you need to set it aside and look at it with fresh and new eyes. It is ok to take breaks, hiatus, or just work on something else for your own mental well being. Here are a few things you can do to utilize your break effectively.  a. Don’t even look at it: Some people just need to get away from it all which is totally understandable. I would be farther along in my own fics if I did not break so much but I am determined to put my best foot forward even if it takes me longer. I am also an artist in the drawing and painting sense so I juggle that as well. If you notice my blog right now there has not been much going on in the way of writing because I’ve switched gears. There is nothing wrong with that but I pick my battles. 

b. Work on another project: There is nothing wrong with working on something else just for a change of pace. We are not machines and therefore monotony breeds complacency or burn out in this case. One of the reasons I have 2 other fics is because sometimes I hop from project to project. I know not everyone can mentally do that but it helps me recharge for the main project that I feel worn out on. 

People have also been wondering where TLC (Tender Love and Care) my Red X Frisk fic has been. The truth is that fic is my downtime fic. I do it when I am able to. In fact, as I work on my multiverse boys references lately I have been working on the second chapter of TLC because its a nice change of pace from doing something like Felldritch or the other two.

c. A little at a time:  Any type of project can be overwhelming so taking chunks of it at a time helps compartmentalize it a little easier. Try to write as much as you can a day. It’s not much but by the end of the week, boom, your chapter is done. 

You shouldn’t push yourself or beat yourself up either. I find that I always feel guilty about taking some leisure time because I could be creating more content but that’s unhealthy. Take the time you need and enjoy your games or books. I personally am enjoying the heck out of Animal Crossing right now. 

All in all, I hope some of these tips help a little. Since I do not know what you are working on or why you feel the way you do about it. It is hard for me to give direct advice. What I can say out of all of this is enjoy what you are making. Enjoy the journey and the process. At the end of the day, it is your investment and if you don’t enjoy it what is the point?

 It is nice to get feedback on things, trust me I know sometimes it feels like pulling teeth, and there are clear signs of burn out. We are not art machines, give it some time, reflect, evaluate, and you will find your way. If you really want me to dig deeper to give you specific con crit advice then you are free to DM me. My ask box is also always open! 

[talkingsong]

Whatever ideas or inspiration you have right now is crucial to your success.

“Wisdom from my oracle cards

Song you should be listening to, Rabbit Heart (Raise It Up) by Florence and the Machine- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GF6kBNLTvaU

This is the general reading for everyone who comes across this post. Scroll down after this to get a more specific general reading grouped by your zodiac sign.

You are far more capable than you realize, and skilled and smart enough to achieve, let alone survive whatever it is that you may be facing. Obstacles are just tests from heaven questioning how bad you want something. Fight wisely. 

Link to youtube playlist with all songs (in order)-  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T4HUIPD1LcE&list=PLPhtmIPBX6Lt4VlVePYVmULkMWiaPyWUS

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

ARIES.

The quote that you guys have from my oracle cards says, “Your emotions know the way. Follow them.” Whatever it is that you feel magnetically pulled to is impecable for you to follow at this point. There’s several different situations that this can apply to, though; for those inquiring about love, follow the one your heart belongs to and stop fighting your feelings. Listen especially to the message and the lyrics of the song recommended. For others of you, this really has to do with whatever it is that you’re drawn to regarding self-love. Accept yourself for whatever it is that you’re drawn to! It’s okay! For an Aries rising in particular this has to do with sexuality. It’s important, too, for you to be making some sort of imprint and impact, Aries, so make sure that you are doing that in your everyday life. Keep in mind that whatever it is that your feelings are telling you to follow will cause a lot of inner growth in you. Good luck is on your side, either way. 

Song recommendation: I Found by Amber Run, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Yj6V_a1-EUA

LEO.

It is the right time for you to be vulnerable and use your words to make a change. Romanticize the small things in life in order to enjoy it more fully. If you’re a dancer or have anything to do with physical movement (maybe fitness? idk) know that the timing is aligning for you and it’s your time to make a difference. Let go of any worry you have by talking about it openly with the people you least want to know you are nervous.

Song recommendation: Forest by Twenty One Pilots, 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fm5kiVEklGA

SAGGITARIUS.

Be more real- I promise you will be loved. Your habit of feeling or being fake externally is born out of an honest need for approval that needs to be addressed and acknowledged by you. I really feel like the song I recommended will really have some sort of effect on you (and if not it’s just a lit song PERIOD) so more than the other groups I really suggest you listen to it. You might feel the need to change yourself to fit in- or more so, because you feel a need to stand out. Understand that you are not a perfect human being and that you can make mistakes. Open up to the world, and it will open up to you. Stay safe. 

For others of you, you need to face your fears of.. whatever it is that you're afraid of. It could have something to do with social anxiety. But open yourself up and expose yourself to what you’re afraid of with an open mind. It will expand it even further. 

Song you should be listening to: Why by Lily Allen, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bNwYRhO8_Dk

GEMINI.

Your purpose lies within whatever makes you feel alive. You aren’t needing what you’re thinking you’re needing right now so go without whatever it is that you’ve been dependent on 

your whole life. No one can make you happy but yourself. The thing that will make you happy is within what makes you feel alive, the thing that is your purpose. Find it. Go down the unforsaken road. Rely on only yourself on your journey. I wish you the best. 

Song recommendation: Wait By The River by Lord Huron, 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NY50XnGKvRE

LIBRA.

Self improvement, Libra. It’s what you need. But self-improvement does not mean giving yourself up to anyone else. Don’t let outside influences distract you from guiding yourself towards the person that you really want to be inside. Go down the weird path in regards to getting what you want, and just in life in general. Don’t let anyone tell you how you want to live your life. Don’t be afraid to stumble into things, too- sometimes you should go into something without any idea of how it’ll end up. That’s what your life is supposed to be, Libra, so stop fearing fucking up. 

Song recommendation: Dreamers by K.Flay, 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T4HUIPD1LcE

AQUARIUS.

Break out of anything that binds you. Someone in this group stutters and whoever here has a stutter needs to know that your perspective is unlike any other person on earth’s and your energy is just weird and jumbled enough to make a difference. That message also applies to anyone who lives right next or near to train tracks or a train station. For most of you, the message is that you need to break away from a current friend you have or a current friend group that you’re in and find someone better by putting yourself out there and talking to people that you’ve never talked to before. Release and repeat. Listen to your intuition and release self-doubt. It’s stopping the revolution in your soul.

song recommendation: Shut Eye by Stealing Sheep, 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p7Kx4d1ihhs

VIRGO.

Allow yourself to grieve and to feel sad and heavy. It’s okay. It’s time for it now. It’s safe for you to do so, and no, being sad today does not mean that you will be sad tomorrow, I promise you, feel your feelings- they are here to help you and they are not dangerous. You will understand your way out of them easier once you allow yourself to drown in them. The more you find yourself dipped underneath the ocean and the waves, the easier it will be over time to break towards the surface. Become the master of this within your own mind. You are safe. So prove it to yourself. 

You are what this world needs, so become what this world needs through this process. I promise you, you’re already exactly where you need to be. Enjoy yourself and enjoy the sadness and pain understanding that it is a temporary state designed to aid you in your process of transformation into the person younger you would have looked up to and admired whole-heartedly. 

Someone loves you, Virgo, so take it as it comes.

Song you should be listening to - Riptide, Vance Joy, 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BdsdgL4_wuY

TAURUS.

Keep in mind that your problems are not caused by you but by the world at large and yes, you have permission to blame the universe. Anger will not tear it in half. It fucked you over! God fucked you over! Anger is essential to any relationship with any religion and is perhaps the most important step in spirituality- FEEL YOUR EMOTIONS. And watch how the thing that you dedicated your life to and then turned on doesn’t react to your frustration. It is stable. You are stable. You’re okay. You’re okay! For right now, though, understand that life sucks. Don’t be afraid to care about things that you really care about too, taurus. Be sincere!

Don’t feel like you need to be the person responsible for every little thing going wrong in your life. Sometimes it’s healthy to blame something else until you move past the problem and then gain hindsight which teaches you what it is that you’re supposed to know from going through this situation. You can’t understand the meaning of a lesson when you’re right in the middle of it. Take some pressure off your back and understand that it isn’t your fault, therefore, the only thing you’re responsible for is your own happiness. For the person here that is a parent, please reach out and get another to help you take care of your child and do not be afraid to take time to take more care of yourself. 

Song you should be listening to: Everything’s Just Wonderful by Lily Allen, 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dMDqZalQ56c

CAPRICORN.

Well. Capricorn. We... We meet.. again....

Your dreams need to be bigger. Whatever you’re going towards needs to be so huge that it borders unimaginable. Because anything you can dream you can do, because as much as I hate to admit it because y’all are capricorns and I’m a cancer and I fucking hate capricorns oh my god earth signs suck, (I’m kidding,) you have a fantastic work ethic and approach to life that BEGS success. Understand that even if you make a shot in the dark you will make it, for people applying to jobs you will get it. And if you don’t get it that means that there’s something better waiting for you. 

I also feel like you need to balance work and play because you need to be stimulating every aspect of your personality (if that makes sense) in order to pull this off. For example, during your day and your daily routine, make sure that you have a time set aside for you to play with different aspects of yourself. Say you have a strong inner child. Put aside some time in your daily schedule to do a puzzle or eat ice cream- just anything that makes that part of you light up. Say you have a stronger sexual side. Weird as it sounds, set aside time in your day for that. Say you love true crime and being analytical. Watch a true crime show episode or research a quick mystery before going to work every morning. Understand what I’m saying? When you pull aside attention to every different aspect of yourself, every aspect will pull attention to you, and it will be so much easier to be productive and passionate when working for what it is that you want. (Hopefully this advice makes sense?) Wish you the best. Focus on your career this month!

Song recommendation- Are You Satisfied? by Marina and the Diamonds,  

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VHi1kGbWo9Q

CANCER.

Okay, your turn for shadow work. “Oftentimes, external conflicts are caused by internal problems.” Look within yourself and see what situations in your life are the product of inner feelings that you refused to deal with or just ignored completely. Do some reflecting- and come out the other side much more self-aware about what it is that you need to know about yourself in order to move forward into your season. This is your season, cancer! Own it.

Song recommendation: Soldier by Ingrid Michealson, 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QHWQ9-OJH5E

SCORPIO.

DO NOT BE AFRAID TO BE ECCENTRIC. Don’t be afraid of how you come across. You will feel so much more motivated once you try the things that you were sort-of-thinking-of-doing-but-also-sort-of-not. Do them. That includes learning Japanese, you procrastinating fuck, you. You know who you are. 

As far as the new moons and eclipses go, feel free to just chill. Y’all probably already did your shadow work (or are due to do it at a different time) so if this resonates for you, don’t be afraid to do nothing but exist on this floating rock in space that we call the world. It’s not lazy cause being alive is considered productive. 

Song recommendation- 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eHwOTK4VLqw

PISCES.

Don’t delay your future by staying in your comfort zone! I know it can be scary- but if you live in your own world for the rest of your life, how will you ever experience anything outside of that? Dare yourself to try something new. Alternatively, dare yourself to try something so new and so scary that it completely shifts your worldview and perspective. Just a thought. Take it how it resonates. At any rate, spiritual awakenings are on the horizon for you, pisces, so understand that whatever comfort zone you’re in right now will inevitably be shattered. The upside of that happening is that by the end of that, the entire world and all the unknown and scary will become your comfort zone. Don’t be afraid to live, my friend. The world has your back. 

Song you should be listening to: Sarah Smiles by Panic! At The Disco, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JB9ArM4xUjg

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#energy #energyreading #energyprediction #free #freereading #generalreading #tarot #tarotreading #oracle #oraclecards #oracledeck #witchcraft #witchy #music #quote #signs #horoscope #zodiac #zodiacsings #eclipse #moon #moonphases #psychic #mystic #freepsychicreading

[the-rebel-archivist]

OC Interview: Raynda Lavellan

NAME ➔

Raynda Lavellan. Or, rather, Rutherford, but you don’t have to use that, it’s still pretty weird to me too. It’s sort of like giving up part of your identity, right? But it’s also so comfy and homey.

[‘Raynda’ doesn’t seem like a traditional Dalish name, is there a story behind that?]

No.

ARE YOU SINGLE ➔

No, quite the opposite, as one might gather from the whole name thing.

ARE YOU HAPPY ➔

[She smiles and turns away before answering]

Ridiculously, stupidly happy. For such a long time after I… lost… my arm, I wasn’t.

[She traces the pattern engraved on the metal arm on her left without looking down]

It’s easier when you have someone looking out for you.

ARE YOU ANGRY ➔

I mean, I try not to be. It’s a remarkably unpleasant emotion and I’ve had enough of it. So many people in my clan were fueled by it; even I was to a large extent. I still have a short temper.

Sometimes I get angry when I think of former friends who turned out to be different from what I thought they were. Ultimately I think that people see themselves as good and try to do what they think is right, it’s just that that can conflict with what someone else thinks is good, so it’s important to look from their perspective before blowing up in anger. I don’t really know if I  even believe in an objective good, you know? Sorry, I’m a little off topic.

ARE YOUR PARENTS STILL MARRIED ➔

Yes.

[She has an impassive look on her face, interrupted by amused flashes of what looks like her thinking about whether or not to say what’s on her mind.]

They’re also dead, so there’s that. But they died married, so I’m not a bastard, which is cool.

EIGHT FACTS BIRTHPLACE ➔

Somewhere in the Free Marches, I’m not really sure where seeing as I wasn’t in a state to remember the location at the time. We moved around a lot. I know we’d recently moved away from Wycome, where my father had disappeared, but I don’t know where the clan went.

HAIR COLOR ➔ 

You seem to have a working pair of eyes - they’re a nice colour, by the way - so you tell me. And don’t give me any of that ‘ginger’ or ‘’auburn’ bullshit, it’s just straight up red.

EYE COLOR ➔ 

Alright, I’ll give you this one, because people tell me that they change depending on whether I’m inside or outside. When I see them they’re blue, but I’ve heard green a lot as well. Because Cullen is fancy he sometimes goes with ‘aquamarine’ or ‘sea green,’ but I’m not particularly pretentious so I usually say ‘greeney-blue.’

BIRTHDAY ➔ 

Sometime in Drakonis, I don’t know the exact date. I’ve always liked it because it happens right when the snow is melting and spring is in the air and the birds are flying back after winter. When I first started celebrating birthdays I picked the 15th because it’s smack dab in the middle of the month.

MOOD ➔ 

My mood right now or generally? Right now I’m really pretty neutral. Generally I’m… also pretty neutral. 

GENDER ➔

Well this should be self-evident, or are you trying to insult me? Don’t… don’t mind me, I’m just going to be in the corner weeping.

I’m a girl.

[She laughs]

SUMMER OR WINTER ➔ 

Oh that’s a tough one! They really do both have so much to recommend them. I think I have to go with winter, even though I do so love the sun in the summer, since winter means curling up in blankets and drinking hot tea in front of a fire. For some reason Cullen never joins me in the blanket, but oh well, his loss, more blanket for me, and he seems content enough in the freezing cold wasteland that is the blanketless living room.

MORNING OR AFTERNOON ➔ 

Morning, easily. The sun is just coming up and it’s lovely. Plus you feel like the day is so much longer! EIGHT THINGS ABOUT YOUR LOVE LIFE ARE YOU IN LOVE ➔ 

Very much so.

DO YOU BELIEVE IN LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT ➔ 

You know, I do. Although I’m not entirely certain that it was love at first sight as much as attraction at first sight. Helps when the person you’re falling for is easy on the eyes. Love at first speak, maybe? We had a great conversation about bows and it was the most engaging and delightful conversation of my life.

WHO ENDED YOUR LAST RELATIONSHIP ➔

I’d rather not discuss it, but me.

HAVE YOU EVER BROKEN SOMEONE’S HEART ➔ 

This isn’t really a line of questioning I’d like to pursue. Probably a lot of people’s, probably not all romantically.

ARE YOU AFRAID OF COMMITMENTS ➔ 

Of the concept, no, but I haven’t really been in any place long enough to get committed. Not even to an asylum, though Creators know sometimes I think I belong there.

HAVE YOU HUGGED SOMEONE WITHIN THE LAST WEEK? ➔ 

So many people. What can I say, I’m a hugger. Do you want a list? Because I can’t remember a list. If there’s a person around I’ve interacted with I’ve probably also given them a hug. Do you need a hug? You sort of look like you do.

HAVE YOU EVER HAD A SECRET ADMIRER ➔ 

When I was about fourteen, someone kept leaving me these really ridiculous love notes in my quiver. I still don’t know where they were from, I used to find them and laugh about them with Tam. They were the dumbest things, stuff like we can run off together, your eyes shine brighter than veilfire in the dark… He always said that we had to burn them after, I didn’t quite understand why.

It was Tam, wasn’t it.

Damn.

Well, now I feel bad.

HAVE YOU EVER BROKEN YOUR OWN HEART? ➔ 

How about we change the subject? SIX CHOICES LOVE OR LUST ➔ 

Why not both? If they must be separate, then love, but the best love has some lust mixed in there. 

LEMONADE OR ICED TEA ➔

Tea is hot, isn’t it? I like hot tea, though I’m not sure about how it would be cold. I should try it! So, uh, lemonade I guess.

CATS OR DOGS ➔ 

I like them both! Cats have a special place in my heart though, the way they’re social but on their own terms. They seem  solitary, but can be so good at keeping one company.

A FEW BEST FRIENDS OR MANY REGULAR FRIENDS ➔ 

A few best friends. I’d rather have a smaller number of real relationships with people who actually care about me.

WILD NIGHT OUT OR ROMANTIC NIGHT IN ➔ 

Night in, hands down. Although I do enjoy a good party, especially one that isn’t too crazy so that I can hear the people around me speaking.

DAY OR NIGHT ➔ 

I like them both - I mean, have you looked at the starry sky at night? Gorgeous. It’s so sparkly. But the sun is warm and bright, like a hug from the universe, so day. That’s my final answer. FOUR HAVE YOU EVERS BEEN CAUGHT SNEAKING OUT ➔ 

Oh, fuck yes, do you know how hard it is to sneak out of an aravel? Pretty freaking hard. 

There was this one time at the last arlathvhen I went to when I went to meet a boy in the woods and… well, maybe I shouldn’t tell this story. It was a pretty good time until the rabbits.

Tam’s mom was so mad. She wanted to make me sleep outside, but, well, that wasn’t much of a punishment so for the rest of the arlathvhen I had to sleep closest to the wall. It was hot.

[She laughs and looks down]

Good times.

FALLEN DOWN/UP THE STAIRS ➔ 

It’s really embarrassing, but both, more times than I can count. It got so bad that Cullen insisted we find a house with only one floor. I had a permanent bruise on my shin from falling up the stairs at Skyhold. What, they were an awkward length and I kept trying to go up two at a time! Think of all the valuable seconds I saved. When I didn’t trip like an idiot.

WANTED SOMETHING/SOMEONE SO BADLY IT HURT? ➔

I don’t know, can you get me my arm back? Haha, I’m just kidding. Or am I.

WANTED TO DISAPPEAR ➔ 

Wouldn’t you want to if everyone kept asking you what to do and you had no sodding idea what the best path was? FOUR PREFERENCES SMILE OR EYES ➔

Smile. A smile brightens up someone’s whole face. It’s also so much fun to make someone who doesn’t smile much burst out laughing, it’s like a ray of sunshine.

SHORTER OR TALLER ➔ 

I like people to be taller than me, with at least a good five inches of clearance, but honestly it doesn’t matter much. If I truly care about someone height isn’t important.

INTELLIGENCE OR ATTRACTION ➔ 

Oh, intelligence. I can appreciate a pretty man well enough and they’re good for some things, but for anything deeper I need someone who can make me think, you know?

HOOK-UP OR RELATIONSHIP ➔ 

Relationship. I’ve done the hook-up thing enough and it only leaves you lonely. Plus you can work on really tailoring your in-bed experience to your preferences in a relationship, constantly iterating on concepts and what not. Lots of iteration. Yup. FAMILY DO YOU AND YOUR FAMILY GET ALONG ➔ 

I assume you mean my clan, not my dead parents, but either way the answer is no. Cullen’s family is great though, they’ve really adopted me. They’re so… warm. I thought it was normal for families to be distant. But Mia’s more of a hugger than I am!

WOULD YOU SAY YOU HAVE A “MESSED UP LIFE” ➔ 

Maybe once I would have.

HAVE YOU EVER RAN AWAY FROM HOME ➔ 

Slept in the forest, yes, but I wouldn’t have run away. When you only have familiarity with one small group it’s hard to break out of that. Like, money - what do you do when you know how to barter but barely know the value of a coin?

HAVE YOU EVER GOTTEN KICKED OUT ➔

Let’s just say learning the value of a coin was the easiest part of a pretty rude awakening. FRIENDS

DO YOU SECRETLY HATE ONE OF YOUR FRIENDS ➔ 

Absolutely not, if I hated someone I wouldn’t be friends with them. Sometimes people can get on my nerves, I’ll admit.

DO YOU CONSIDER ALL OF YOUR FRIENDS GOOD FRIENDS ➔ 

Yeah, I really do.

WHO IS YOUR BEST FRIEND ➔ 

Definitely Dorian, he’s persistent and won’t let me not be his friend. He makes me laugh so hard, and my fashion sense has really gotten an upgrade from being around him. Sometimes I look in the mirror at an outfit and just think, ‘Thanks, Dorian.”

Also did I say he’s funny? He’s uproariously funny.

Sometimes I want to twist his moustache just to annoy him. I do it, but I want to too. He hates it. But I think he also secretly loves it.

On a more serious note, he has a unique perspective and I’m pretty sure he’s the smartest person I know. He probably should treat me like an idiot in comparison, but he doesn’t.

WHO KNOWS EVERYTHING ABOUT YOU ➔ 

Cullen. If there’s anything he doesn’t know about me it’s because I’ve forgotten about it or it’s just never come up, but he knows me like nobody else does.

#raynda lavellan #my OC #dragon age fanfiction #cullen rutherford #cullen x lavellan

[imaginaryelle]

some meta thoughts

I was reading some meta by @crowleyraejepsen about Aziraphale’s neoliberalist tendencies (which is extremely interesting and everyone should check it out), and it got me thinking about the relationships between Heaven (and Hell) and Earth, and the relationships between angels and demons and humans, as presented in the book and in the show. Some of my thoughts are about the in-universe, world-building implications, and some of them are about the book’s function as a work of satire. So, here we go.

One of the big themes of the book is free will, and how important it is. It is, to a certain extent, what separates angels and demons from humans and what makes Adam centrally important. And I was always kind of confused about that, because angels and demons obviously make choices that go counter to their “nature.” Demons fall because of choices they make, and the idea that they’re predestined to fall is pretty… well it’s pretty dark. And I don’t think it’s really accurate within the world-building, even though there are branches of Christianity that go in for that sort of determinism. So the conclusion I came to today is that free will, in this sense, isn’t about the ability to make choices, but about how those choices affect a being and their relationship to different power hierarchies. Humans can make a whole myriad of choices about their own nature. A human can completely change their morality, their relationship to power, the way they live their life, etc., quite easily and in a very short span of time, without really affecting their spirit, for lack of a better word. There’s no divine retribution for changing allegiances, for humans, during their lifetime, and it’s implied that even once started down a path in a particular direction, they can still course-adjust at any time (take Hastur’s priest temptation, for example). But for an angel or a demon, those sorts of changes are literally and immediately catastrophic. And while there may be other options (as seen in Aziraphale and Crowley adopting a lot of human mannerisms and behavior patterns), the only real example either angels or demons have for “what happens when I change my relationship to power or morality” is the Fall.

From an in-universe perspective, I think it’s safe to say that no one can be sure that absolutely everything isn’t predestined. That’s why ineffability is mentioned so often, but it’s especially why (I think) it’s consistently mentioned by Aziraphale, and also possibly why Aziraphale collects books of prophecy. Because prophecy represents a potential insight into ineffability, and because, for Aziraphale, it’s entirely possible that literally everything, including which angels fall when, is predetermined and part of the Plan. But he can’t be entirely certain. He can’t know, for example, that he won’t fall if he makes a big enough change in himself. He can’t know that he’s not going to, no matter how many texts he collects. Not even Agnes can tell him. And so his relationship to the power and hierarchy of the universe becomes to defend and reinforce it, mostly out of fear. Fear that if he changes himself too much too quickly, if he questions the way things are going, he could very easily lose his entire sense of self. We can see this in his repeated assertions that he can’t question the Divine Plan, and his defense of Heaven’s tactics, despite any misgivings he might have on personal moral grounds (see, the Noah’s Ark scene and crucifixion in the show, the “freedom fighters” and guns discussions in the book, etc.). Anything is permissible, as long the right side is doing it.

Now, Crowely. From the book:

People couldn’t become truly holy, [Aziraphale] said, unless they also had the opportunity to be definitively wicked. Crowley had thought about this for some time and, around about 1023, had said, Hang on, that only works, right, if you start everyone off equal, okay? You can’t start someone off in a muddy shack in the middle of a war zone and expect them to do as well as someone born in a castle. Ah, Aziraphale had said, that’s the good bit. The lower you start, the more opportunities you have. Crowley had said, That's lunatic. No, said Aziraphale, it's ineffable.

Obviously, Crowley isn’t a fan of the Ineffable Plan, and I’d posit it’s precisely because he’s already fallen. Oh, everything is predestined but demons and humans still get punished? What sort of plan is that? A psychotic one, that’s what. And so it’s easier for him to challenge the idea of a Great Plan, even though it also challenges the power he is subject to in Hell’s hierarchy, because he’s more scared of immovable predestination (who is he, if even becoming a demon isn’t actually based on his choices?) than he is of retribution (though he is, admittedly, quite scared of retribution).

From the book:

“It’s not that I disagree with you,” said the angel as they plodded along the grass. “It’ just that I’m not allowed to disobey. You know that.” “Me too,” said Crowley. Aziraphale gave him a sidelong glance. “Oh, come now,” he said, “you’re a demon after all.” “Yeah, but my people are only in favor of disobedience in general terms. It’s specific disobedience they come down on heavily.” “Such as disobedience to themselves?” “You’ve got it. You’d be amazed. Or perhaps you wouldn’t be.”

This, in the same conversation where he’s trying to convince Aziraphale to help him interfere with Warlock’s upbringing. And then, after the fiasco of Warlock’s birthday party:

“You’ll be amazed at the kind of things they can do to you, down there,” he said. “I imagine they’re very similar to the sort of thing they can do to one up there,” said Aziraphale. “Come off it, your lot get ineffable mercy,” said Crowley sourly. “Yes? Did you ever visit Gomorrah?” “Sure,” said the demon. “There was this great little tavern where you could get these terrific fermented date-palm cocktails with nutmeg and crushed lemongrass—” “I meant afterwards.” “Oh.”

So from these bits I infer that both Crowley and Aziraphale are, somewhat, operating under a sort of low-grade fear a lot of the time (and we can relate this to queerness and otherness and marginalization in a lot of societies too, but that’s a whole other essay or three). Fear that the power structures they’re aligned with but don’t quite fit into ("I suppose--get off the road you clown--your people wouldn't consider--and the scooter you rode in on--giving me asylum?" / "I was going to ask you the same thing--Watch out for that pedestrian!") are going to topple down on them.

But what are those power structures, exactly?

One of the most interesting differences between the show and the books for me was actually the depiction of Heaven and Hell. In the book, I got the impression that they were both bureaucracies, but that Heaven was run more like a government military (with commanding officers and a very strict chain of command, etc, but the Final Authority is actually someone else) and Hell is more like feudalism, with its dukes and lords and, ultimately, king, or as an office environment, with the contract department, etc. Both have paperwork, but somehow it’s not quite as bad as human paperwork (Crowley had been extremely impressed with the warranties offered by the computer industry, and had in fact sent a bundle Below to the department that drew up the Immortal Soul agreements, with a yellow memo form attached just saying:“Learn, guys”). 

But in the show, Heaven is depicted more like a large, abusive corporation where the CEO is just never around so you have a rich, overpaid management team running amok doing whatever they feel like to enforce their influence, and Hell is … I’m not really sure what Hell is because the visual design evokes post-apocalyptic dystopian psuedo-anarchy generally governed by corrupt oligarchy. There’s probably a better word for it that I’m missing. Lots of concrete and closed in spaces and visual markers for poverty and imprisonment (possibly because, contrary to more medieval ideas, modern Christian-dominated society tends to relate poverty with sin and criminality--and as Pratchett observed in the guard novels, owning a slum isn’t a crime, but living in one very nearly is). There’s not an official set power structure (presumably, anyone can advance if they gather enough influence), but there is a hierarchy all the same.

Stemming from both of those depictions is a really interesting (to me) tangled bit of world-building, because there is absolutely no explicit in-universe reason Heaven or Hell should be set up this way. Why are Heaven and Hell such strict hierarchies? Out-of-universe it’s likely because the authors needed that structure in order to actually criticize it. The book’s discussion of religion and Church philosophy is pretty firmly based in a Western interpretation of modern Christianity, which makes sense because that's what the authors have experienced, and it makes sense also that they’d update the show’s depictions to represent more present-day reflections. But if you start with Eden, there’s two whole millennia (half the Earth’s in-canon existence!) before Christianity is a thing at all. (I’m focusing on Christianity here because that’s what the book does.) Did Heaven and Hell look different in those early times? Did they change alongside humanity? Or did humanity change to resemble the shape of Heaven and Hell?

Obviously the latter option is the one the Church has leaned into throughout history, but my theory is that that Heaven and Hell changed in response to humans. Looking at both authors’ other depictions of religion, human belief probably plays a strong role in how the Good Omens universe is actually structured. Which means that human society shapes everything. We’re not actually looking at a top-down hierarchy from day one, we’re looking at a representation of the cosmos that is constantly in flux for four millennia. Which then makes me wonder: Were Crowley and Aziraphale less afraid before, say, the crucifixion of Christ? There is certainly a stark difference between Aziraphale saying “I must have put it down somewhere, forget my own head next” (re: flaming sword and said to actual God) and the business with lighting candles and trying to appeal to a Higher Authority and then ... not really arguing when the Metatron disagrees with him. Did Aziraphale have different moral standards around social inequality before the consolidation of the Church in the Middle Ages, when (potentially) European politics and religion intertwined so closely that the structure of maintaining power on Earth (feudalism) became the new shape of Heaven and Hell? Were there periods when the difference between angel and demon were less rigid? There were obviously periods when more of them showed up on Earth more often (Gomorrah, Christ’s birth, etc.). So what changed? Because something changed by the time the 15th century rolled around and Crowley was getting commendations for things he didn’t even know were happening (Spanish Inquisition, in the book).

My personal headcanon is that humans decided demons and angels didn’t come to Earth much anymore. They started writing doctrine about how divine will was actually executed through Earthly representatives, like popes, and priests, and kings, and fostered social mythology that evil could get into your head and make you do things, even without actual possession, and that made it so. Not just in the structure of Heaven and Hell, but even in the structure of angels’ and demons’ minds. “Oh, there’s nothing more for us to do, really, but wait for Armageddon. The Big One we’ve all been waiting for.” Earth just kinda hums along on its own. No more big displays of power from visitors on either side, just that careful craftsmanship of a soul, if you feel like it. But Aziraphale and Crowley are still on Earth because they’ve always been there, and they are, by definition, Earthly representatives; they’ve had to adapt already, and now they have to adapt faster. Between changes in doctrine and population explosions, they had to learn to use humans more effectively, which means they had to think more like humans, and, on a certain level, become more human. They had to develop imagination, and ended up developing other things as well; Crowley develops compassion and morals, and Aziraphale develops vices and guile.

And then we have Adam, human incarnate, who believes things on scales beyond even what whole societies can muster up. And he “knows all about” Aziraphale and Crowley. And he doesn’t want an apocalypse. And he thinks people should start doing better when they’re alive, instead of waiting until they’re dead to sort things out.

What do you think Heaven and Hell look like now? How does that knowing affect Aziraphale and Crowley? Are they more human, with more ability to change than ever before? Or less? Can Aziraphale actually still fall? Could Crowley be forgiven?

It’s a whole new universe, when Adam’s done with it. Anything could happen.

#good omens #good omens spoilers #aziraphale #crowley #gotvspoilers #meta #i really like playing with world building #please ask me about it at any time #long post

[bearfeathers]

Ineffable Husbands: 44 + 71 :3c

[PROMPT ME!] | [AO3]

Whew! This one was exhausting. Sweeping love confessions tend to do that to a writer lol

***

"Crowley. I... I need to speak to you. Please. Will you come?"

Nothing could have made him move faster. When Aziraphale had phoned him in the middle of the night, he'd sounded troubled when he'd asked him over. Given that they had rather recently performed their little body swapping act to avoid punishment for the Notpocalypse, it's enough to make Crowley worry. Had the angel heard something from Heaven? Should he expect the same?

"Angel?" he calls, closing the shop's doors behind him with a snap of his fingers.

The lack of answer only puts speed in his stride and he reaches the back room at a near sprint. Not here either. Something's definitely not right.

"Aziraphale!"

He takes the stairs up to the angel's flat two at a time, the door flinging open long before he even reaches it. But as he enters, he finds that Aziraphale doesn't seem to be in any danger. He's sat on the sofa, his coat on the rack nearby. He's looking particularly let loose (well, for him anyway) with his sleeves are rolled up to the elbow, his bowtie untied, and a glass held between his hands. 

"Couldn't be arsed to answer me, I suppose? I was only screaming my bloody head off for you down there," Crowley says. But when he sees the small puddle of liquid at the bottom of the glass and the flush on the angel's face, he can see what part of the problem is. "You've been drinking tonight, haven't you?"

It's really not much of a question. It's as plain as day that he has been. The empty wine bottles on the coffee table are kind of a dead give away.

"No. I mean, yes, but that's not—that doesn't have anything to do with why I asked you here," Aziraphale says. "Or... Well, I suppose it does, it's just not the reason, um..."

The angel isn't just in his cups. He's about as drunk as Crowley can remember having seen him and that can't bode well. Crowley leans to the side, resting his weight on his hip against the wall as he crosses his arms over his chest, suddenly very aware of the fact that he's never even seen the angel's flat before.

"You said you needed to speak to me," Crowley reminds him. "Suppose you might like to sober up for that?"

Squeezing his eyes shut tight, Aziraphale shakes his head in response. If Crowley hadn't been concerned before, he is now. The angel never likes to have serious conversations while inebriated. What could he possibly have to talk about that he can't be sober for? That he called Crowley in the middle of the night for? It’s obviously of some importance but Crowley can only begin to imagine what it is. Aziraphale hardly looks happy about it and the demon’s gut churns unpleasantly.

"Alright," Crowley says. He carefully pries himself from the wall and approaches the worn but comfortable looking sofa, taking a seat on the far end. He wants to be close, but still leave the angel enough room so that he doesn’t feel smothered, sensing that this is something which should be approached delicately. “Do you want to tell me what it is, then?”

With a nod, Aziraphale leans forward and places his glass on the coffee table. For a moment Crowley thinks he’s about to refill it, but thankfully he leaves it just where it is and leans back in his seat. The angel presses his hands to his face with a heavy sigh.

“I’m sorry I woke you,” Aziraphale says. “I didn’t... didn’t realize what time it was.”

Crowley shrugs a shoulder. “Well, I mean, I don’t actually need to sleep and you sounded like you had something important. Is it about... them?”

He stresses the word, knowing his counterpart will pick it up. But Aziraphale shakes his head, not looking to be in any better spirits for it. So no news on that front. But if not that, he doesn’t know what could have the angel so tied in knots. He watches as Aziraphale looks down at his well-manicured hands where they now rest in his lap. He tugs his fingers, curls them around each other, squeezes them, laces them together, bends them at angles which should be painful. Such a familiar quirk by now and an easy tell when it comes to reading him.

“This might sound a bit... strange to you, Crowley. And you may not like what I have to say,” Aziraphale warns him. “But I ask that you please let me say it.”

This is starting to scare him, and he isn't the type to scare easily. “Angel, I don’t know what–“

“Please,” Aziraphale reiterates, hazel eyes pleading and dark with some mixture of emotion that Crowley can’t identify. “Then you can say or do whatever you wish.”

Crowley doesn’t know what else to do than agree. He nods his head, rubbing his palms against his thighs as he does so. “...alright.”

“Thank you,” Aziraphale says, seeming genuinely relieved. 

It seems he’s taking a moment to gather his thoughts or compose himself as he inhales deeply and closes his eyes once more. He’d said that Crowley may not like what he has to say. Frankly, they’ve said a lot of things to each other that the other hasn’t liked over the years. But after the Notpocalypse, he felt as though they’d come to a new understanding of each other. That they’d reached a new place in regards to one another. He doesn’t very much like the idea of being knocked from that place.

“I’ve been doing a great deal of thinking... for a long time now, but also much more of it very recently,” Aziraphale says, opening his eyes but not looking at him. “After our recent adventure put things into perspective. And I’m–I’m just–I wanted to... to...”

Barely two sentences in and he’s already getting himself this worked up. Crowley feels the need to interject, but remembers his promise to allow the angel to say his piece.

“The thing is, I know the things they say about me. Up... Up there. I do,” Aziraphale says. “And it’s not even that I blame them, I can–well, I understand. They don’t think I know, but I do. And truth be told, I’ve never been very good at being an angel so they’re not entirely wrong.”

“Angel–“

“All I’m saying,” Aziraphale declares loudly, talking over Crowley, “is that I never quite... fit in. I was never quite good enough. But in the same token, I don’t think I’m quite, well... bad enough for Hell. So I thought to myself–I–I thought, what exactly would you call an angel who isn’t good enough for Heaven but not bad enough for Hell?”

Crowley doesn’t bother to try and answer. 

“I thought that sounded very nearly human,” Aziraphale says. “But the thing is–the thing is–I’m not that either. I don’t fit anywhere. And I tried to just–just pretend that I did. That if I did so long enough then I would fit, I would be a good enough angel. But that’s... It’s just not who I am. It’s not something I can bury deep enough that it goes away.”

The angel finally meets his gaze. His eyes are wet with tears threatening to overcome him at any moment. It makes Crowley’s chest tight, leaving him feeling robbed of air that he doesn’t really need.

“All of this made me realize. You’ve... You’ve always–always felt like home to me,” Aziraphale says, his voice waterlogged. “When you said we were on our own side, I... I couldn’t fathom at first why it... it just made so much sense. Because that’s how it’s always been. Even when we were at odds you... I felt closer to you than anyone or anything else. You are... You are the single most important thing to me in all of Creation.”

The demon breathes out, half startled wheeze and half anxious laugh. “Now I know you’ve been drinking.”

He hadn’t meant it to, but it’s clear the comment stings. If only he could make the angel understand that it hadn’t been meant as a joke, but rather a statement of plain disbelief. Because he can’t even begin to comprehend how they’re having this conversation right now. Crowley’s lost count of the number of times he’s pictured this scenario in his head. Only it was never Aziraphale who had initiated it.

“For a very long time I didn’t know if I... What I mean is that angels are made to love, but I didn’t think we were equipped to love the way that... that...” Aziraphale’s nearly choking on the words and Crowley feels as though someone has a vice on his heart. “The way that I love you. Because I realized that’s what I felt. I love you. I've been so—so afraid to say it. For so long. So afraid of what could happen to either of us if I did and... And I don’t know if I should be apologizing for making you wait six thousand years or... or–or for ruining our friendship by saying it, I just... I just needed...”

Crowley needs to say something. Anything. Whatever will stop those fat tears from rolling down the angel’s cheeks. But his tongue has shriveled up in his mouth because Aziraphale loves him. That’s what he said. That he loves him. Him. Crowley. So he does he only thing he can think to do in that moment.

In hindsight, he realizes he’d practically thrown himself at the angel in his haste, but neither of them seemed to mind. Crowley lunges to close the gap between them, his hands on Aziraphale’s face as he kisses him into silence. Aziraphale whimpers against his lips and grips Crowley’s shirt tightly, trying to somehow bring him even closer. Crowley has wanted this for more years than he can count. But not like this. He never wanted it to hurt.

But it was bound to, wasn't it? Six thousand years of dancing this dance, of hurting and helping each other, of loving as quietly as they could. This is just ripping the bandage off. A hurt that will pass. That's all it is, he has to believe that.

“Stop,” Crowley breathes, the second they part. He can feel the sting of tears in his own eyes now, can feel them running hot down his cheeks and leaving chilly trails in their wake as they meet the open air. “Stop. Just... Stop, you idiot.”

“I’m sorry," Aziraphale hiccups.

"No, that's not what I—don't apologize," Crowley says, keeping his forehead pressed against the angel's. "Why the hell did you have to be drunk to tell me this?"

"I thought it would be easier if you... if you didn't recip—rec'pr... if you didn't feel the same," Aziraphale explains. "I didn't think I could bear to hear it sober."

He wasn't sure. And here Crowley thought he'd been the obvious one. He thought he'd given himself away more times than he could count and here the angel tells him he hadn't known.

"You have to have known," Crowley says, his voice hushed, wrecked. "How could you not have known that I love you more than anything?"

"I didn't know if you could. I didn't know if either of us could," Aziraphale says. "I just... I've just been so confused and I thought... just having you as a friend was enough but—" He laughs, but there's little humor in it. "—you know how overindulgent I can be so... so... I had to know for sure. But the thought of driving you away, I couldn't..."

The angel makes a small, miserable noise, as though the mere thought has caused him pain. Crowley feels it, too. He knows that pain like an old friend.

"Angel, nothing's ever driving me away," Crowley assures him. "The only way I'm going anywhere is if you tell me to."

There's a brief nod from the angel as he sniffles quietly, his hands gently pushing the demon away. For a moment Crowley feels a stab of panic, until Aziraphale reaches up and pulls his shades from his face. He folds them neatly, placing them on the coffee table by several empty bottles. He takes his time in framing Crowley's face with his hands, brushing his thumbs along sharp cheekbones and staring deep into eyes as gold as wheat fields in the midday sun.

"I just... wanted to see your eyes for this," Aziraphale says, still weepy. "I love your eyes, you know. I know why you hide them but..."

He stares into them as though he's found something there and Crowley can't for the life of them imagine what that is. But it occurs to him now that the angel is still incredibly drunk and, doubt being such a good friend of his, feels himself drawing back.

"Look, are you sure about this?" Crowley asks. He reaches up to hold the angel by the wrists. He has to be sure. "Because if you sober up and you're not, I don't think I'll be able to take it. So I need to know."

"I wouldn't have started drinking if I weren't sure, but... I—I see what you mean. I'll sober up now," Aziraphale agrees. "Just give me a moment..."

They tend not to have the nasty side effects that come with sobering up that humans do, but it doesn't mean it's pleasant. He can tell the angel is sober and experiencing a headache—he always gets them when he drinks too much wine—the moment the bottles are refilled and he winces. Aziraphale presses the heel of his palm to his eye with a soft hiss, undoubtedly regretting some of his decisions, but hopefully not the one Crowley is most concerned with.

"I'm sorry about that, my dear," he sighs, still wiping at the tears in his eyes. "Will this do?"

"That depends," Crowley says, trying and failing to sound calmer than he feels.

There's a flicker of confusion in the angel's eyes before he understands what Crowley's asking of him.

"I love you," Aziraphale says, gently smiling at him as though saying it had been the easiest thing in the world. But then, he is an angel, Crowley supposes. It's bound to be easier. "I've always loved you. I just... didn't always know it. Or understand it. But I do now. And you, um..."

"Of course I love you," Crowley says, trying not to shout. "Did everything short of putting it up in neon lights."

"...or saying it," Aziraphale adds.

"...or that. But look, you weren't the only one with doubts," Crowley informs him. "I never said anything because I thought if I did, you'd be gone."

"I think... I think at one time, that admission might have frightened me," Aziraphale admits, looking just a touch guilty. "How long have you...?"

"Since the beginning," Crowley says. "Since the second you told me you'd done the fool thing of giving away that bloody sword of yours."

"And you... knew, then," Aziraphale prods.

"About my own feelings, yeah, sure," Crowley says. "Not about yours."

"Oh, my dear, I'm so sorry," Aziraphale sighs, reaching for his hands once more and holding them between his own. "I'm sorry I didn't understand any of this. I'm sorry it took so long. I'm sorry I... cocked it all up so spectacularly."

"You haven't cocked anything up. What's a few thousand years between friends, right?" Crowley says with a half-laugh. He clears his throat. "Or... whatever it is we are."

"Us?" Aziraphale ventures. "I think we can be 'Us' for now and perhaps—perhaps figure the rest out in the morning."

Right. Morning. He'd been sleeping before this, hadn't he? It hardly feels like it now. But he supposes he should get home and give them both some space to think this all over. That must be what the angel's implying. He's distracted from his thoughts by the feeling of his hands being squeezed and finds Aziraphale with a near-death grip on them.

"I know you were sleeping prior to this," the angel says slowly. "And I was thinking of... perhaps sleeping this headache off. So I wondered if you might—you don't have to, of course—but perhaps you might consider—ah—well... staying... here. With me."

Crowley feels like he's been repeatedly slapped in the face by life tonight and now she's just decided to straight out come for his life. Aziraphale is asking him to spend the night. Aziraphale, who has nearly never slept in 6,000 years, is asking Crowley to go to bed with him. The demon is starting to wonder when the other shoe is going to drop on this one, but strangely, even as he asks himself that, he has a feeling it isn't going to.

"Yeah," Crowley manages to say around the lump in his throat, forcing the words past a tongue that's shrivelled up in his mouth. "Yeah, alright."

And the way those simple words make Aziraphale glow... It's nearly too much for him. He claims to hate seeing Crowley hide his eyes, but doesn't seem to realize that half the time it's just because he's too damn bright. More than once, Crowley's been afraid of being burned for getting too close. But now, as the angel takes him by the hand and leads him away from the sofa, Crowley wouldn't dream of letting go. 

#good omens #ineffable husbands #good omens fic #replies

[gii-heylittleangel]

Title: Candle Light Dinner 

Summary: After years of being together, Charlie finally decides to propose to Lisa, which means that she has a bunch of stuff to do and nerves to control.

 Pairing: Charlie x Lisa 

Word Count: 2924 words

Square Filled: Proposal 

A/N: Hey peeps, how are you? My square today is for @spngenrebingo​ with a really rare pair. It's all @babybluecas​ 's fault tbh, she's the one that got me in this ship, so this one is to you. I hope you like it ❣️

Read it on AO3 or keep reading it here!

Charlie already wakes up anxious; it’s barely past six am and she wants to start jumping around the house. Not that she will, obviously not; she has to keep everything in secret for a while longer, at least until Lisa’s out of the house. With that thought in mind, Charlie turns onto her side, staring at Lisa on the other side of the bed, still asleep, with a wonderful, calm expression on her face. Smiling softly, Charlie raises her hand to brush a strand of hair off Lisa’s face, careful not to wake her up.

She lets her hand rest against Lisa’s cheek after, thumb running on it slowly. Charlie had never thought she would be able to have someone like Lisa in her life; someone that loves her so much, someone that accepts her with every flaw and problem that comes along. Charlie had never even let herself believe she could, thinking it would be easier not to fall for that, but when Lisa came into her life, Charlie was gone. Simply gone, deeply in love with Lisa, and that was one of the best things that ever happened to her.

When Lisa finally stirs, opening her doe-like brown eyes, fogged with sleep, Charlie has lost track of time long ago. She smiles at Lisa. “G’morning.”

Lisa smiles back at her, yawning before replying, “Morning. How long were you staring at me sleeping?”

Charlie shrugs, which pulls a chuckle out of Lisa. “No idea, but I was happy like this.”

“I’m sure you were.” Lisa gives her a kiss before stretching herself. “Am I late for work?”

Charlie turns to check the clock on the nightstand. “Nope, you have an hour yet.”

“I’m gonna take a shower then. Can you make sure Ben’s awake? You know how he’s like.”

Charlie chuckles, throwing the covers out of her. “Yeah, I definitely know or you forget I was exactly like that?”

“How could I forget when you’re still like that?”

Lisa closes the bathroom door before the pillow Charlie throws gets close, hitting the closed door with a huffed thud. Charlie can still hear Lisa laughing inside the bathroom, smiling happily at the sound. She drags herself out of the bed, sliding her feet inside the slippers before walking out of the room. Charlie makes her way to Ben’s room, knocking on the door a few times before opening it.

“C’mon, Ben, time to wake up.”

Ben raises his head from under the covers, blinking sleepily at her. Charlie chuckles, shaking her head softly. 

“Do I need to?” He asks hoarsely, head falling back on the bed.

“Oh yeah, it’s either me or your mom, and you know she’s way worse than me.”

Ben groans but throws the covers to the side. “You won me with that.”

Charlie smiles. “Alright, I’ll see you downstairs. And no going back to sleep, little man. I want you downstairs in less than twenty minutes.”

Ben makes a face at her but nods before standing up. Charlie closes the door and makes her way downstairs, yawning. She thanks the fact that she managed to get the day off, so she can make everything as perfect as she wants for the evening—and for the fact that she has a day off of work, which is always great.

Charlie starts getting things for breakfast ready; the coffeemaker on, getting cereal and milk for Ben, grabbing some toast for Lisa, along with bacon and eggs for the both of them. She turns the radio on as she cooks, singing along with the songs that play, swaying around the kitchen. 

She’s putting the bacon on Lisa’s plate when she sees the one resting against the frame of the door, arms crossed on her chest, a small smile on her lips.

Charlie jumps in place, almost letting the pan fall from her hands. “Damn, Lis, wanna give me a heart attack?”

Lisa chuckles, pushing herself from the door and walking towards Charlie. “You did the same thing with me earlier, remember?”

“I didn’t give you a heart attack.” 

Charlie places the pan on the counter as Lisa puts her arms around her waist. “What can I do? You were too cute for me to resist.”

Lisa places a kiss on Charlie’s lips, Charlie’s arms circling Lisa and keeping her close. They kiss each other sweetly for a while, melting against each other.

“Ugh, you two are disgusting,” Ben’s voice makes them break the kiss apart.

Lisa rolls her eyes as she smiles at Charlie, walking towards the table. Charlie turns to face Ben. “You are disgusting. Have you checked how your room smells?”

“She has a point, honey.”

Ben stares incredulously at the two, mouth hanging open. “My room doesn’t smell.”

Lisa and Charlie keep staring at him until a hint of doubt starts to surface in Ben’s expression. They chuckle as he mutters something under his breath, walking towards the table. Charlie finishes cooking the eggs, putting some for her and some for Lisa as Lisa grabs the coffee pot and mugs. They sit at the table after, the three of them talking about random things as they eat. Ben complains about a test he has in school, Lisa complains about having to go to work, and Charlie beams at them, saying how good it’ll be to spend the whole day alone at home, doing nothing.

“I still don’t understand why you decided to take the day off, Char.” Lisa turns to her with a raised brow.

Charlie shrugs, playing it cool. “I told you, I want to rest a little. Work’s being too stressful these last days.”

Lisa hums suspiciously, taking a sip of her coffee. Charlie and Ben steal a glance at each other, until Lisa decides to let it go. Charlie almost lets out a sigh of relief, hiding it behind her mug as she drinks the coffee.

They finish their breakfast, Lisa grabbing her and Ben’s lunch from the fridge as Charlie walks with Ben to the garage, keeping an eye out to see if Lisa comes.

“Alright,” Charlie claps her hands, “you remember everything for today, right?”

“Yep. I’m gonna come straight home and grab some stuff for you from the market.”

Charlie nods, looking behind her. “Okay, I’m gonna work on getting the backyard ready until you get here, and then we can work on getting the food ready. Sounds good?”

“Yeah.” Ben smiles at her. “Don’t worry, Char, everything’s gonna go great, you’ll see.”

Charlie smiles nervously, scratching the tape of her neck. “I sure hope so. Alright, give me a call when you get out of school, okay?”

Ben nods as Lisa enters the garage. She hands one of the bags to Ben. “What are you two talking about?”

“Nothing,” they say at the same time. 

They smile at her, Lisa squinting her eyes at them. Charlie puts an arm around her waist and pulls her close, placing a kiss on Lisa’s lips.

“Don’t worry, babe, it’s nothing.”

“I don’t know. I’m always afraid of you two conspiring with each other.”

Ben laughs. “We’re not ‘conspiring', mom, don’t worry. I’ll see you later, Char.”

“Have a good day at school, Ben.”

Ben walks to the car as Charlie turns back to Lisa. “Have a good day at work, babe.”

Lisa gives her one more kiss before letting her go. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Charlie replies as Lisa walks to the car.

She watches as Lisa drives away, waiting until the garage door is closed. She then walks back to the house, grabbing everything from the table and taking it to the sink. She washes the dishes as songs come and go through the radio’s speakers. As Charlie washes the dishes, she thinks about how she’s going to decorate the backyard. She wants everything to be beautiful and perfect and sweet for what she’s going to do.

Once she’s done with the dishes, Charlie makes her way to the closet she hid the things for tonight. Charlie takes a deep breath before she grabs everything and walks towards the backyard. She starts to arrange things slowly, taking her time to put things in place, look at them from different perspectives before moving on.

It’s a slow but peaceful task, and it keeps Charlie calm as she does it—and she needs to be calm or she’ll freak the crap out. 

She gets everything the way she wants it to, admiring her work once she’s done; there are some fairy lights around the backyard and on the benches; she got the table in the middle of the backyard, putting a soft, off-white table cloth on top of it; some candles on the table and on the ground around it, along with red rose petals. Lisa’s probably gonna call her a sap and laugh quietly, and Charlie knows she’ll be right, but she’ll be damned if she doesn’t do all of that for Lisa.

Charlie walks back to the house, finding a few bags on the counter. She frowns. These weren’t here earlier, right? Looking around the kitchen, Charlie calls, “Ben?”

“I’m upstairs!”

She sighs in relief. “Thank god I’m not crazy then. When did you get here?”

“Half an hour ago,” he says as he walks down the stairs. “I called you but you didn’t pick up. And I saw you were too immersed outside, so I decided to take a shower while you were finishing.”

Charlie starts to go through the bags. “Thanks for picking these up. What do you think of the decoration?”

“Mom’s gonna call you a sap.” Charlie chuckles, nodding. “But I think she’s gonna love it. Looks awesome.”

“Let’s hope she likes it. Alright, what time is Dean picking you up?”

Ben checks his watch. “In about an hour. I can help you for now if you want.”

“Let’s do this.”

They start getting things out of the bags, separating everything in what they’re gonna be used for. Charlie starts cooking as Ben chops. They work in relative silence, only broken when they need something, and in sync. She barely sees the time pass before a honk comes through outside the house.

Ben finishes chopping the onion before he washes his hands. Charlie walks with him to the front door, seeing Dean’s Impala parked outside. Dean waves at her with a big smile.

“Hey, Char. Big day today, huh?”

She chuckles as she walks to the car. “Yeah, you know how it is.”

“I definitely know. Got everything done?”

“Most of it. I only need to finish cooking now.”

He smirks at her. “Need help with that?”

“Shut up.” Ben opens the door and gets in. Charlie crouches to be on their level. “Thanks for staying with him today, Dean.”

“No worries, we’re gonna have fun. Call me if you need anything.”

“Sure will. Ben, you’re free to destroy his house, okay?”

He laughs as Dean says “Hey!” Charlie smiles one last time before standing up. She watches as Dean drives away, and then makes her way back to the house.

Charlie goes back to the cooking, turning the radio on a little louder, singing as she walks around the kitchen, mixing pots, turning the heat on and off, finishing chopping things. Time flies by her and when she’s finally done, it’s almost six pm. 

“Crap, I need to shower.”

Charlie makes sure there’s nothing that can burn before she rushes upstairs, getting in the bathroom while she takes her clothes out. She washes her hair and scrubs her skin clean, taking all the smell of food and sweat from her. 

She relaxes under the spray of water for as long as she can before stepping out and wrapping herself in a towel. Drying herself, Charlie fumbles inside her closet, trying to find something to wear. She settles for a pair of jeans and a shirt Lisa gave her a few months ago. “It brings your eyes,” she said.

Dressing up quickly, Charlie hears as Lisa’s shoes knock against the hardwood floor downstairs.

“Char?”

“Upstairs, Lis!”

Charlie finishes drying her hair as Lisa makes her way up. Lisa stares at her with a frown. “Do I smell food?”

“Yes, you do. So, why don’t you take a shower as I finish everything downstairs and then we can have dinner?”

Lisa smiles at her, walking to her and putting her arms around Charlie’s waist. “Why did I do to deserve something so nice like this?”

Charlie gives her a kiss before replying, “I ask myself that question every day that I wake up by your side.”

“You’re such a sap.” Lisa gives her one last before walking towards the bathroom.

Charlie waits until the shower is turned on to go to her closet and open one of the drawers. She grabs the little velvet box in it, opening it. It shows a simple engagement ring; it’s silver, with a few small diamonds on top and one slightly bigger in the middle of them. It’s the one Lisa said she loved when they saw in the mall and Charlie had to buy it—it was easier than trying to think of another one that Lisa would like.

She closes the box and puts it in one of her pockets, making her way to the stairs. She finishes getting everything ready, taking the plates outside and placing them on the table, along with glasses. She also takes the pans and the wine Lisa likes best. She lights the candles that are on the table and on the ground, and turns the fairy lights on.

After making sure everything looks good, Charlie walks back to the house, sitting by the end of the stairs and pulling her phone out. There are a few texts from Ben and Dean, wishing her good luck. She smiles at the texts, answering that she’s too good looking to need luck.

Footsteps break Charlie’s attention on her phone and she loses her breath when she turns to see Lisa; she’s in one of her ‘stay-at-home’ dresses, a simple, thigh-length, light blue dress. Nothing out of the ordinary, but Lisa always manages to take Charlie’s breath away.

“You look marvellous, babe,” Charlie says as she stands up.

Lisa blushes softly, smiling shyly. “I look the same as always.”

“And you’re always marvellous, Lis.” 

Charlie gives her a kiss before pulling her through the hand. They make their way to the backyard, Lisa’s mouth opening when she sees everything. Charlie smiles, walking them to the table, pulling one of the chairs for Lisa to sit. She walks to the other chair and sits.

Lisa’s still looking around them, eyes lightly sparkling. “You did all of this, Char?”

“I did. I decided to do something nice for you.”

“Nice? This is amazing.” Lisa turns to look at her. “What’s the occasion?”

Charlie shrugs, pretending indifference. “Nothing, just thought we could have something different today. Did you like it?”

Lisa chuckles wetly. “I love it.”

They smile at each other and Charlie serves them wine. They talk as they take the food, Lisa telling Charlie about her day at work, Charlie telling her Ben’s staying at Dean's for the night. While eating, one of their hands are intertwined on top of the table, a soft smile on both of their faces.

Charlie waits a while after they finish eating, their chairs now a lot closer together, staring at the sky. She takes a deep breath before placing her glass on the table and letting go of Lisa’s hand. Lisa looks at her with a puzzled expression as Charlie takes the velvet box out of her pocket. 

Lisa’s eyes widen as Charlie gets on one of her knees, opening the box and taking one of Lisa’s hands. “I know you always said you didn’t wanna get married or thought we didn’t need to because we already love each other, and it’s true; we definitely don’t need to get married. But I thought we could because you’re the freakin’ love of my life, Lis. I love you with all my heart and more than I’ve ever loved anyone. And I want to spend the rest of my life with you, being able to call you my wife and see whatever ring we choose on your finger. You’re an amazing person, an awesome mom and girlfriend and friend. You make all the people around you so happy. You’re able to light the mood of a whole room just by walking inside it. You’re one of the most kind, warm, and selfless people I’ve ever met. So, if you’ll have me, will you do me the honour of being my beloved, most amazing, wonderful wife?”

Lisa’s mouth opens and closes a few times, a few tears running down her face. Charlie’s heart is beating hard against her ribcage, mouth dry as she waits for Lisa to answer.

“I could never say no to this, Char. I love you so much.”

A weight lifts from Charlie’s shoulders as she places the ring on Lisa’s finger. Lisa throws herself on top of Charlie, the two of them almost falling to the floor, peppering kisses all over Charlie’s face. They both laugh and kiss and hold each other, words of love falling out of their mouths without them even realizing. 

Charlie thinks she can never be as happy as she is at the moment. Oh no, I can and I will. The day I marry Lis is gonna be one of the best days of my whole life.

#littleangelwrites #charliexlisa #charlie bradbury #lisa braeden #spngenrebingo #proposal #fluff #sweet #rare pair

[pippa-frost]

Seven, not Six - a TUA fanfic!

Hello! So, i’m new to the fandom and reaally needed to get this of my mind. I did so in the middle of studying so it was pretty rushed, and now i finally had the time to really work on it! 

It was going to be a sort of list but it just kept growing longer and out of hand so i’m afraid it’ll be more than one chapter! Anyways, i hope you like it and tell me what you think!

I just loved this show so fucking much i can’t even. SECOND SEASON HERE WE COMEEEE!!!!!!!

 ---

Number One

---

So, they go back in time. It’s all a messy, long and hard process. There are tears, yelling, accusations and apologies, goals and regrets. But they get through it, together. Finally.

They talk, for once, place all the cards on the table, information is their only weapon, Five stresses.

So they learn about everything that happened to each of them, they learn about Diego and mom and Patch; about Allison and her little girl and her sin; about Five and his math and the destruction he got shot for, about Vanya and her pills and her music; about Klaus and Ben, about the drugs, the ghosts, the War, Them, the truth - by which point they get to Luther. They all have things to feel guilty about, things they regret, mistakes they wish they hadn’t made. But the truth, as Ben calls it, a dark look on his face, is worse than all that. Because the truth is that which Klaus almost gets to bury, but Ben won’t have it. So he tells them about the ghosts (cold, screams, misery, madness), the drugs (silence, peace, warmth, numb, numb, num-), the withdrawal (hot, pain, need, panic, want, want, want, need, need, nee-), and the death. Ben has punched Luther twice by the time Diego is ready to get a go at Number One.

But. They get through it. Kinda.

They hardly ever sleep alone, always one of them next to another. All seven of them more often than not. Because Five is paranoid and (quote) he’s the only one who stands a chance if people come for them; they don’t mention that they know he’s counting heads at all times, it’s not like they’re not guilty of doing the same. Luther would stay with Allison, but she won’t let go of Vanya, who isn’t Luther’s biggest fan. But she’s not the only one. While Diego might eventually forgive, he never forgets, and he’s not about to engage in either of those after learning that not only had Number One trapped Vanya by tricking her with a hug, but that he had choked Klaus and then left him for dead a few hours later. Actually dead. It’s all he can do not to cut his throat every few minutes.

Five isn’t one to snuggle so he stays close but never touching. 

And even if this wasn’t the new arrangement, no one could separate Ben and Klaus if they tried. Klaus has no problem with Luther, and while Ben doesn’t share Diego’s aggressiveness, there’s something in the way he stares at him whenever he gets too close to Klaus.

And so they end up in Allison’s room, mattresses on the floor, bed sheets and blankets and pillows all around them, maybe not all close enough to touch, but together in one room all the same. 

Reginald had not been amused, but with Five’s lead and Allison’s voice, the midnight surveillance had been taken care of.

They soon realize that it’s not enough, however, because Pogo can tell something’s up. By then, any remorse any of them could have felt is long gone, after days of training that their brains had somehow been able to downplay in tragedy. Their memories hadn’t been this bad, training hadn’t been this bad. But then again, they didn’t have the perspective they do now, didn’t have anything to compare their activities to fully comprehend how horrible it was.

They had never blamed Pogo for anything. 

They do now.

Vanya doesn’t take her pills. They won’t go as far as to suddenly make Reginald stop being a bastard and get some sense all of the sudden, but they’re easy enough to hide and get rid of, much easier than making sure to train their sister into not showing her powers along with every emotion. But they make do, they can’t afford not to.

They keep training because they know they’ll need it, but not all of it follows Reginald’s plan. And little by little, they get time of their own. Both for training and just being together, this time with Vanya and with one another, the way they wish they had known was the normal sibling way. It’s little, maybe one or two hours a day, but it’s all they can afford, all they can risk.

They go on missions, they protect each other. Vanya starts learning first care with their mom, and is there every time they step back into the house after a mission.

Reginald doesn’t like it. He knows they’re stronger together and more than once he realizes what’s happening, just as Pogo does. Those are days they all panic, and find it hard to breathe afterwards. However, Mom is theirs. One of the first things they do is rumor Pogo into fixing Grace, they know the only one who could have brought her back last time was him, and they were right. So they make it so that she’s no longer trapped by Reginald’s goals in her creation, and that not Pogo nor Reginald can ever change it back.

They still suffer, it’s still all messed up. To call it abuse doesn’t begin to truly describe what they are forced to go through for a second time. But it’s not as hard to handle as a group. They still have to endure a lot of things. A lot of... experiments. But it’s better than last time, and they make sure to draw a line. 

Klaus is not forced into mausoleums again even if that doesn’t erase the times he was locked in before. Five is not forced to continue jumping after passing out more than once. Ben is not forced to bathe in animals’ blood (so much). Diego is not forced to aim at their mom or their siblings, or animals (so much). Allison is no longer made to play with people’s minds until her throat is raw and thoughts a mess. Luther is no longer forced to work until he can’t even scream anymore and his muscles feel like tearing apart. There’re no more days without food.

They are still forced to do a lot of things. And a lot of nights are spent with tears of fear, frustration and anger, nightmares and flashbacks. They’re adults, they already escaped this hell once, they don’t have to put up with this. But they are also children, and the fear and so many other emotions that come with it are almost unbearable. And yet there’s nothing they can do and this is the best they’re gonna get.

They can’t mess up with the timeline. 

They discuss about it a lot. How can they prevent the apocalypse and expect not to change the timeline too much?

Reginald is not too hard, the public never knew much about him, not really, so all they have to do is keep him from tormenting them too much. As long as the world knows he’s still there until the moment he takes his life.

It’s hard to get the point across to Diego and Ben, the latter being a surprise for them all. 

Ben dying is not an option. And even still, it was never something they went out of their way to tell the world.

They’ll stay together until the time most of them left to live alone, only this time, they’ll leave together. Luther did stay, however, so they know they will have to do some missions even after leaving, but they try not to think about that.

Of all this, they are certain. Anything else, they’ll figure it out along the way.

Only, if it were easy, everyone would do it. There’s a reason why things happen the way they do, and the existence of the Commission is not the main one.

Five doesn’t leave, and PTSD and touch are things they become experts in; Ben doesn’t die, they all help him with his fear of Them, just as they help Klaus with the screams of death and war, being there before any drugs can get him. Vanya and Ben are the experts, both of them know and admit they are all messed up and know there are ways to work through it, Ben with his books, Vanya with her experience with therapy. And they work hard to get Allison and Luther to understand how abuse was every bit of a scar on their minds as it was for the rest of them, especially to Luther. 

But knowing how the future plays out makes them all the more vulnerable to unexpected things, to unconsidered variables.

Later, tense with rage stronger than his hatred towards the Handler, Five is the first to admit they somehow managed to underestimate their bastard of a father, even having a whole timeline of experience over him.

They have plenty of close calls, plenty of scary moments, where they’d stay awake wondering if they saved one sibling just to lose another.

There’s Allison getting shot, Luther getting stabbed, and Five-

Well. Five doesn’t get to get hurt after Klaus acted as a shield.

Is in this last case that Reginald finally gets proof that powers are one more thing the children are hiding from him. He’s known for months, but can never truly grasp it, and he knows he must have only for it to be taken from him with a few childish words.

But he sees. He sees useless, weak Number Four. He sees his fists glow, might even see a few ghosts, but most importantly, he sees him die. And he sees him come back. 

The kids by now know that there’s something about Klaus and death, something mysterious and similar and even familiar, a connection of sorts, one that scares them like little ever has, no matter how apparently okay Klaus is with the whole concept, how sure he is of its existence as an unconditional backup, as an absolute truth, how ready he is to take it for granted. They’re not about to put the veracity of this supposedly safety net to the test; and so they do all they can to avoid the matter all together.

That is their downfall.

Reginald has been taking notes all his life. The rumors don’t change that. In fact, they only make him more careful. So while he might not remember, he knows enough. And he knows that while the children might have a way to keep him off their backs, there’s a reason why they still keep up with most of the training, which means they are not as in control as they would like to be.

And everyone knows that to take control, you start with the weakest link, which so happens to be the subject of his interest. It’s perfect.

So when training time comes for Number Four, he takes him to an old, far away part of the mansion instead of the graves, without anyone knowing.

“Where are we?“ Klaus asks, a sick feeling settling in his stomach. He’s gotten better at dealing with ghosts, a few of them acting more like Ben used to do, silent companions, always there. Nothing compared to what Ben had been of course, but a hell of a lot better that the others. He was getting better at making them corporeal, especially with Ben’s input from his own experience, and he knows now that he can apparently move things with his mind, tho he hasn’t really been able to do it other than by accident.

“Did you know, Number Four” the man suddenly starts “that out of all of you, your powers are the least threatening? The weakest, truly“

Klaus did know that.

“Number One could crush my head with one single hand“ he says conversationally, his back to Klaus inside the big slightly dark room. Luther is still pretty much a Daddy’s boy, even if he can see now how wrong he’s been about everything, and it’s hard for him to accept the way they screw with Reginald’s mind, his hero complex unable to come to terms with all he’s known and believed in being turned upside down. So, no. Luther couldn’t do that.

“Number two” he continues “one flick of his hand and a knife would be deep between my eyes” he laughs. Klaus feels cold and scared, glancing every so often at the woman who he’s gotten used to seen in the corners. She doesn’t look back. Also, Klaus knows that’s exactly what Diego would love to do, but he isn’t sure if his brother would actually go through with it.

“Number three... Well, she could make me kill myself in lots of ways“

Allison would never do that. How could he even think that?!

“Number Five... he could kill me in my sleep and make it seem like an accident“

Well... yeah. That is true.

“And Number Six...“ he hums, turning around to look down on him and letting out a scoff “He’s a monster!“ and Klaus feels rage he hasn’t felt in a very long time, years of numbness and forced obliviousness as coping mechanisms leaving him unprepared for strong emotions for his already pretty mellow personality, and he has to fight everything he has not to let his fists turn blue. The fucker can’t know about his powers.

“He could kill us all in one night“ he says, pulling out his pocket watch and then giving Klaus a look that makes his limbs go rigid “So, you see, Number Four, it would be simple madness for me not to be prepared for such potential situations. You are all supposed to save the world, yes, and just as it’s my duty to prepare you for that, it is also my duty to do everything in my power so that you can’t do the exact opposite“

Klaus gulps, cold settling in the room. He doesn’t know where the asshole is getting with this, but it doesn’t sound good. It almost sounds like he knew about Vanya and the apocalypse and her powers, but that couldn’t be. It just couldn’t. Besides, it was exactly his fear of Vanya’s power what actually led to the end of the world

“I know you all have been playing with me” and Klaus stops breathing, his heartbeats loud inside his head, he dares a look to the side, were the closed (locked, the key on the man’s pocket) door blocks him from escape “And I have let it go because you have gotten better at both missions and training. However” he turns around again, opening the suitcase he had placed on the table behind him and starting to pull things out of it “My patience runs short, and your abilities run predictable. So imagine my surprise“ he sits on the chair behind the table, as if ready to give a lecture to a one-child class “when i saw you actually have been improving your abilities!“

Klaus feels his knees go weak, the woman is watching him curiously now, and he knows, he knows, so maybe it wouldn’t matter if he made her corporaal now? And begged her to help him? To go get Ben somehow, or Five, anyone!

How did he screw this up? How did he let Reginald see? How did he screw everything up again?! And he can only think of Five, of Diego, of Ben, where are they? Help! His mind screaming for him to run run run run! 

“How did you do it, Number Four?” the man ignores his reaction “How did you die?”

And every sound banging inside his skull makes a sudden stop. He must have heard wrong. There’s no way he’s talking abo-

“How did you come back?” the man’s voice sentences like a jury of hell.

“I- I don’t know what you’re talking about“ he manages, just as his panic makes his fists glow and more dead people appear around him, still invisible to the man in front of him somehow. Reginald lifts and eyebrow.

“I saw you. I know what a fatal blow is. I saw the tapes as well. Number Five lowering your body down, the whole lot of you screaming like toddlers. I know you died. And I know your brothers know that too. I also know that they must have known about this beforehand, no? It’d make sense of the way they’ve all been behaving during missions. There’s a reason why you all tried to cover it up, which is all I need as proof of the veracity of the fact“

“I- I didn’t die! You’re crazy!“

“Oh, but you did, Number Four. And then you came back“

“That’s im-“

“It is impossible“ he nods, before lifting his shin “For your siblings at least“

And Klaus freezes. There are at least ten ghosts around the room now, all looking at the man before him, and yet, right now, not one of them scares him more than said man. There’s a whisper of a ringing noise between his ears, and maybe he’s imagining it just as he’s imagining his hot breath against the now cold, cold room. His hands are covered in blue fire, but it doesn’t burn at all, unlike the burning caused by the knot inside his throat. The ghost aren’t corporeal yet, and while he’s been trying his best not to show them so far, he’s now stuck, because letting Reginald see them seems like a better choice than keep this conversation going, especially with the look his father is giving him, a gaze colder than those of the dead, scarier than the sights of gore that always follow his step.

He glances at the door again before he can stop himself, his whole body trembling in terror.

“Ah, don’t waste your time, Number Four” the man scoffs, fumbling with the briefcase still “You won’t leave”

“Why is that” he asks after gulping, trying desperately to keep the fear out of his voice. He’s not a kid anymore, he’s an adult, he’s been tortured, he’s been a soldier, this isn’t as scary as he thinks it is. It can’t be.

“Hmm, so I see your newly developed powers didn’t come with higher thinking capabilities” he stands up, now a knife between his fingers, unimpressed expression firmly in place “I told you, I have ways to get rid of every single one of you, of keeping you in your place, of making sure you never get to play this silly game again. Maybe they won’t work on you, at least not until we make some tests, but they will definitely work on your siblings. Up until now I hadn’t had a reason to use them, but with all your little games recently, well. You’re getting dangerous, and I’m running out of patience. However, balance can always be achieved”

“You wouldn’t” he manages brokenly “You need us” and Five had said so himself, so it couldn’t not be true. The bastard is now a few steps before him, and laughs.

“Number Four. There’re dozens of you out there. I managed to get you seven once. I can get a few others again. And yes, you could try to stop me with your silly little game, but believe me when I say, there would only be six of you by the time you managed to do so” the man finishes, his tone unbothered, as if shrugging through his words.

And that’s it. The man moves around and Klaus is distantly aware of being pushed backwards to sit on a chair, his Father somewhere above him. Everything else is silent. Klaus, ironically, feels a kind of numbness surrounding him, so different from the kinds he’s used to, and yet so similar. There’s no longer ringing on his ears, panic’s whispers; instead, there’s silence, but not empty silence. The air feels heavy around him as if surrounded by an invisible fog, cotton around and inside his head, blocking thoughts and emotions alike.

Because it’s true, isn’t it? There’s absolutely nothing he can do. No option for him to choose, no actions for him to take. There’s nothing he can do to stop their dad. Who would stop him? Who could stop him? Who knows what things he has to get rid of them? It was easy enough for him to do as such to Vanya, what else couldn’t he do? His siblings, they’re all human, they’re all vulnerable. They can all be killed. They can all die. They already had in one timeline. Hell, they all had in several timelines.

There was absolutely nothing he could do. He could try to escape, but would he dare? Would he be able to run fast enough towards his siblings before any of them being killed somehow? They weren’t even close to their usual part of the mansion. He wouldn’t make it. He couldn’t make it. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t do anything.

He’s frozen, barely there, hopelessness numbing everything, a void inside his chest, something broken, something inside his chest he had almost managed to forget, taking everything away. He’s trapped. They were supposed to be better this time around. And now because of him he might lose everything again. He can’t. He can’t leave. He can’t let him do that, not to any of them. They are all he has left. They are everythi-

He flinches and reality rushes to him.

Reginald has just made a cut on his wrist. His vision is blurry from silent tears he hadn’t felt falling, blood feels warm against his skin as it runs through his hand. His Father takes a few steps back to lean on the table, now full of equipment he hadn’t seen before.

He’s trapped again. He actually doesn’t feel the need for drugs right now, and what a funny thing that is. Somewhere in his mind, a little Klaus actually acknowledges that fact, but it’s almost drowned by the numbness stuffing everything like cotton, his mind, his eyes, his ears.

He’s trapped again, and for the first time that isn’t the problem. All the times before, it was all about how long he’d be locked for, how long he’d be forced to endure the screams and the agony and the hatred and the desperation of lives cut short. Getting out eventually had never been the issue.

Now? Now there’re ghosts looking at the scene with blank faces yet curious eyes, but he can’t hear them; there are broken souls around him, yet they don’t go near him; there’s a Monster just like before, yet now he isn’t the one throwing him to the wolves, instead the Monster is now the sole torturer.

He’s trapped again, and now he knows there’s no getting out at all.  

#The Umbrella Academy #TUA #The Umbrella Academy fanfic! #TUA fanfic! #myfanfic #Luther Hargreeves #Diego Hargreeves #Allison Hargreeves #Klaus Hargreeves #Number Five #Five Hargreeves #Ben Hargreeves #Vanya Hargreeves #Grace #Pogo #Post Season One #Reginald Hargreeves #AKA the character we all want kill #i want his head on a fucking spike #i hate him so much omg #blood #injury #ANGST! #i mean what else these are the freaking Hargreeves people #Brotherly Love #EVERYONE IS PROTECTIVE OF EVERYONE AND THERE ARE A LOT OF FEELINGS OKAY?!?! #I need Five and Klaus to be HAPPY #IF SEASON TWO DOESN'T HAVE DELORES OR DAVE I WILL SUE #Grace deserves to be freaking free #Sorry but Pogo means nothing to me

[whovianfeminism]

Whovian Feminism Reviews “Twice Upon A Time”

Letting go is always the hardest part. And yet, letting go is how this show survives. We have to let go of Doctors and companions, TARDIS windows and sonic devices, and producers and showrunners to let new ones come in. It’s how Doctor Who has survived for 54 years. Change and go on, or die as we are, as the Doctor would say. But it doesn’t make saying goodbye any easier. "Twice Upon a Time” gave us an episode filled with both sadness and hope, a perfect balance between a heartfelt goodbye to Peter Capaldi and a generous welcome to Jodie Whittaker.

To prepare for this historic regeneration, we’re brought all the way back to another iconic regeneration -- the very first one. After playing William Hartnell himself in An Adventure in Space and Time, David Bradley returns to Doctor Who to play the First Doctor in “Twice Upon A Time.” His portrayal of the First Doctor is incredibly well done, recreating the feel of Hartnell’s performance while also providing his own subtle interpretation of the role. In the unseen moments between the First Doctor’s escape from the Cyberman ship and his regeneration in the TARDIS, Steven Moffat slips in a story about how he, too, might have resisted regeneration.

Although it doesn’t quite break the fourth wall, I can’t recall an episode of Doctor Who that acknowledges quite as much as “Twice Upon a Time” that we are, in fact, watching a television show. The “Previously...” opener doesn’t just show us an abbreviated version of “The Tenth Planet,” it tells us that it took place 709 episodes ago. Black and white footage from “Tenth Planet” is show in its original, smaller dimensions before it beautifully transitions from Hartnell’s Doctor to Bradley’s Doctor, in color and in modern television dimensions. 

There’s also a bit of a retrospective on the era and the actor which influenced the character of the First Doctor. Though this is a show about an alien time traveller, Doctor Who has always been a product of the people of its time, and has reflected their biases and prejudices. This was something that Steven Moffat was very aware of when writing his version of Hartnell’s Doctor. He told SFX magazine that the First Doctor reflected "old fashioned attitudes” in ways that stand out to modern audiences but were “normal and invisible” at the time. And instead of ignoring that, he tried to embrace it and confront it head on. 

The first Doctor has several astounding moments that lay his sexism bare in “Twice Upon A Time,” several of which are grounded in comments and actions from previous stories. The First Doctor threatens to give Bill a “jolly good smacked bottom,” which is exactly what he threatened Susan with in “The Dalek Invasion of Earth” (a line which Hartnell may have improvised himself). And the First Doctor mentions to both the Twelfth Doctor and Bill about how he expects female companions to clean up the TARDIS and fetch him things. That moment is handled much better than a similar one from “The Five Doctors,” where the Fifth Doctor asks a very offended Tegan to “humor” the First Doctor when he makes a similar demand of her.

Although I understand and appreciate what Moffat was attempting to do, I have to admit that after the fourth or fifth sexist comment it began to feel overplayed. His point could have been made with just one or two lines. Eventually, they began to actively detract from my enjoyment of “Twice Upon a Time.” The last thing I wanted to hear in the episode introducing Jodie Whittaker was two men sniggering over how all women are made of glass, even if they were clearly in the wrong. Hartnell and the First Doctor were hardly progressive, and it’s perfectly reasonable to want to address that. But to have some of the worst moments of that era of Doctor Who thrown so frequently in your face was just exhausting. 

And yet, I have to admit there might be a generational difference here. I later watched "Twice Upon a Time" with my mother, who's just one year younger than Moffat, and she actually appreciated those moments. She grew up watching the same era of television as Moffat did, and remembered just how pervasive and accepted those sexist attitudes and comments were. These types of comments were already outrageously outdated and caricaturish by the time I was watching television in the 90s. But they were the background radiation of the media my mom consumed at a young age -- a poison in the foundation of our current media that we are still, generations later, trying to clear out. She felt it was important to have those moments called out for what they were, instead of letting them be swept away and forgotten. 

And she felt that those moments perhaps revealed the endemic bigotry that kept a woman Doctor from being able to come forward earlier. Is it really believable that an alien time traveller would believe it is appropriate to spank a grown woman or would be befuddled by lesbians? No. Is it also believable that an alien capable of totally changing their physical appearance has only ever appeared as a white man? No. But did we really need to belabor the point and escalate the problematic comments? From my perspective, no. 

Between three Doctors and two regenerations, we hardly have any time for Bill Potts, who makes a re-appearance to help urge the Doctor towards regenerating. Although it’s always a delight to have Pearl Mackie back on our screens, Bill is unfortunately not much more than a plot device in “Twice Upon a Time.” She’s used as a tool by the Testimony to either manipulate or understand the Doctor. She asks the right questions so the Doctors can provide us with exposition. And she’s there to put in the emotional labor to convince the Twelfth Doctor that he should regenerate. Bill does have moments of charm but ... that’s it. Moments. In the end, nothing much has changed since “The Doctor Falls.” She still lacks a satisfying story arc that is wholly her own, and exists almost entirely to further the Doctor’s arc. It makes me long even more for the next season of Doctor Who, where a woman will be the lead protagonist and a woman of color will be one of her companions, and it will be much harder to make their stories center around white male characters.

But for the time being, this is still Peter Capaldi’s story, and I cannot begrudge him the incredible ending that he so justly deserved. The man who was introduced as the Doctor while holding his lapels in an imitation of Hartnell ends his tenure by encouraging the First Doctor towards regeneration. The man who began by creating a “darker, less user-friendly” Doctor lands on his defining ethos: “Be kind.”

There is fear and sadness here, too. Regenerating isn’t dying, but it is an ending, and both of the Doctors are afraid of what comes next. The First is afraid of who he might become. The Twelfth is afraid that he might never leave the battlefield. But they still get another chance at life — which is why it is so very fitting to put them up against a British Army Captain from WWI, who is facing a very real and very final death. He was resigned to his death, until the Doctors accidentally gave him hope. Now he’s had time to think about everything he will lose, and he is afraid.

But kindness underlies everything. The Doctor pushes time forward to save a stranger’s life, relying on the simple and yet extraordinary kindness two armies showed each other in the middle of a brutal war. That selfless act of kindness gives the First Doctor the courage and conviction to regenerate. The Testimony allows the Twelfth Doctor to see his companions one last time and restores his memories of Clara Oswald, giving him peace. But it is one more call for help, one more act of kindness, that finally convinces the Twelfth Doctor he must regenerate. 

His final triumphant speech epitomized the Twelfth Doctor, and the man who played him. Peter Capaldi will be remembered above all for being one of the kindest, most generous actors to ever pilot the TARDIS. He understands intimately what it is like to be a fan of the show, and what the Doctor means to so many. He was generous with his time and went the extra mile to show his appreciation. And he never, ever gave a condescending answer to children. His final lines about how children can hear the Doctor’s name came directly from his answer to a young fan at an episode screening. 

I’ll admit that I have never before cried at a Doctor’s regeneration. During Capaldi’s, I sobbed. Bill was right — the hardest part of knowing the Doctor is letting him go.

Enormous credit has to be given to Rachel Talalay for creating such a gorgeous episode. I feel like I say that every time I review one of her episodes, and yet it has never been more true. She faced such a variety of challenges in this episode, from faithfully recreating scenes from the 1966 story “The Tenth Planet” to a grim and damp WW1 battlefield, from spaceships and glass ladies to explosions galore. And never is an opportunity wasted to turn what could be a simple scene into a work of art. When the two Doctors first meet at the South Pole, the scene is infused with the shifting, changing blues and greens of the Aurora Australis. When the Twelfth Doctor is considering whether or not to regenerate, the sky is filled with a fading golden light.

And never has a regeneration been quite as incredible as Jodie Whittaker’s. Most regenerations are efficient -- one Doctor burns or fades (or sneezes) into the next, and he plunges straight into a new adventure. But Whittaker is revealed in a mix of intimate glimpses and long, slow shots. We see her lit from behind, standing amongst smoke and light. We see her stumbling to see her own reflection, our first glimpse of regeneration from the Doctor’s perspective. Each scene, beautiful on its own, builds up our anticipation until we finally get our first full reveal of the Thirteenth Doctor. It’s a regeneration that will be remembered as being truly iconic.

Steven Moffat may never have cast a woman to play the Doctor himself, but he has been laying the groundwork within the narrative of the show for a woman Doctor for a very long time. And in an episode that could’ve been focused solely on memorializing Capaldi and Moffat’s time on the show, they both instead provided an incredible generous welcome to Jodie Whittaker.

“Twice Upon a Time” is, above all, a story about letting go. The First Doctor believes it is courageous to simply live and die as himself, but it is later revealed to be fear — and perhaps vanity and selfishness too. The viewers know, from seeing all the Doctors who have followed, that he has so much left to do. There are so many adventures to be had, planets to be saved, and friends waiting to be known. Things can’t end with the First Doctor.

But it’s not just the Doctor who needs to hear this —it’s the viewers too. We all have favorite eras and favorite Doctors, and that’s okay. But some fans go even further to say that the show should have ended after their favorite time or Doctor, as if because they got no enjoyment out of what followed that it held no value for anyone else. To end the story now, to deny all those stories that are waiting to be told, is selfishness.

Some are just nervous or afraid about what comes next. And that’s okay. I won’t deny I’m nervous about what the future holds too. But “Twice Upon a Time” has a message for us too — this is a chance worth taking. We wouldn’t have Peter Capaldi if someone didn’t take a chance on Patrick Troughton, or all the men who followed him. 

Jodie Whittaker is a chance worth taking. 

The Doctor has to grow and change, or the show will die. This is a change that brings the character forward into a new and exciting direction. This opens up a whole new universe of stories, and gives another wonderful actor a chance to define the role. And it gives a whole new generation of young girls and boys a new hero to look up to.

In one beautifully delightful moment, we get a glimpse of Jodie Whittaker and the Doctor she might be. And I cannot wait to see where we go from here. 

#Doctor Who #Twice Upon a Time #Peter Capaldi #Jodie Whittaker #Twelfth Doctor #Thirteenth Doctor #The Time Lady #reviews