#Patrick knows how to kill and part of him will always find something natural and home-like in destruction and violence

[mythvoiced]

-. some of y'all haven't seen H.annib.al I presume which is why you haven't seen the Will Reconstructs Dr Gideon Killing The Nurse scene and--

[journeytothewest-daily]

New volume! Thanks for keeping on! I took some notes for chapter 26!

Wukong (no more Wade Giles uwu) demands that Tripitaka receive his three meals and six teas every day. That's not bad for a mendicant ascetic! I'd quite like to be guaranteed that, hahaha! There's a typo calling him the Tank Monk later in the chapter, very funny.

It's funny how reading Pinyin, which is all anyone uses now, feels unusual, while individual trees having names like Long-life grass of reverted cinnabar seems normal. You can really get used to anything.

I was quite surprised that the immortals are described as youngish-looking! We usually imagine a Greek philosopher-looking sage here, but even Plato was a virile, hairy wrestler once, I suppose! They always carry around gourds with stuff in them; I've seen the like in movies, but were they ever made of gourds, do you think? Pumpkins weren't around in Tang times, at least I think not.

Is Eight Rules and Idiot the same character? The switching between in the same paragraph seems to go against best writing advice, but I daresay I'll not write anything that will survive 500 years! Incidentally, he quotes a saying "put on the cap to increase riches." Is that a real saying or did he misunderstand something comedically?

There are several beautiful poems about specific natural sites here, and I wondered where Chinese people would learn these. Would they have to read them? Are they carved into stones near these rivers and mountains? Is poetry a part of the curriculum? Accented Cinema on youtube said poetry is a large part of Chinese culture, and I'm jealous. We all disliked it in Norwegian class :(

These supposedly rural and simple immortals have jade tea cups and wine goblets! That sounds nice! They should redistribute them to me! Hahaha! They have eternal life, after all, and isn't time worth at least as much as money?

Also, shout-out to the peach thief! Can't believe we got another peach thief here!

1. Same! I too struggle with having that many meals and teas (no money). To be a Tang Monk...

2. About the looking young thing, East Asians have a gene whose name I've forgotten that makes them mature more slowly than other ethnicities. My biologist s/o will kill me if he knew I've forgotten the name. So yeah, in my fantasy or historical despictions even of older people, they won't have many wrinkles (in others do). Remember that Taoism is about prolonging your life, so it's only normal that saints are young looking, while in the West ™ our idea of wise and saintly is Plato, Saint Patrick, etc.

3. I think that the only original to Asia gourd is the Wax Gourd, so they might have been using that.

4. Yes, Idiot and Zhu Bajie are the same and I too dislike a bit the constant change of name. I looked up the saying in English but couldn't find anything, and my chinese isn't good enough to try to translate it back into Chinese and look it up. I know that some of you are reading the OG Chinese book, could you tell us if it's a real saying?

5. Poems are very important in all cultures I'd say, and of course also in China. People who got an education in the past not only had to learn how to write poems but also to learn them from memory. For the imperial exams you were examined on your poetry. I think normal people like you and me in China would have learnt them from memory when a passing singer said them and retained. People used to work their brains more in the past, methinks. If you cared for poetry and you were a peasant, you'd try to memorize it and say it to others so you weren't a base man, but an intelligent peasant, closer to heavens because poetry comes from heaven etc.

5. It's only normal that immortals have jade things :) Maybe they lack in other commodities, but would you rather have a precious jade cup or ten IKEA mugs? I am sure they didn't even buy it, but they just sprung out of thin air in their house when they became immortals.

Thank you for your analysis :)

[bitches-who-write]

Hi! I really love your writings!!💟 Can I ask for The Bowers gang with a reader that is really childish and always running around full of energy?

Absolutely! Thank you for the request! We hope this is what you had in mind.

Warnings: Foul language, Derogatory names, and Sexual behavior implied.

Bower's Gang with a Childish and Full of Energy Reader

Patrick

•Your personality is exactly attracted Patrick to you. He views your childish behavior as being naive, therefore, it's easier for him to manipulate and take advantage of you.

•Ex: Patrick likes to steal or as he calls it, “a five-finger discount.” One day you guys get caught and Patrick drags you out and you flee. You’re freaking out, basically having a panic attack. Patrick grabs your face and says: “If I get caught, so do you. You’re an accomplice you’ll get fucked in jail so calm the fuck down and do as I tell you, got it?”

•Since you're so full of energy, always running around- Patrick would purposely stick his leg out to trip you and laugh when you fall.

•Patrick also gets spurs of energy at random times so, between the both of you, the other guys get annoyed quickly.

•Given your childish nature, you tend to still like childish movies (such as cartoons, etc) When Patrick walks in on you watching them, prepare for him to make fun of you and tell the other guys, mocking you further.

•Sometimes (more often than not), he gets annoyed with all the energy you have and will just yell, “Will you shut the fuck up and sit the fuck down already.” ...When Patrick yells at you, you better listen.

•Patrick lives to corrupt you since you are so childish and naive (from his perspective).

•Expect this to extend into the bedroom.

Belch

•This guy right here has the most patients out of the entire gang. This might be due to the fact that he babysits his younger sister. (We know in the book/movie he does not, this is just for the sake of the headcanon)

•He finds it cute for the most part. Occasionally you’ll catch him just smiling at you as you ramble on and on about something that excites you.

•However, at times he can find it frustrating and a bit tiring. But he would never fully tell you in fear of hurting your feelings.

•When you are in one of your energetic moods and won’t sit still, Belch would ask you to cuddle with him, hoping that relaxes you

•He feels the need to be a little more protective of you, especially around the guys *cough* Patrick *coughs* since Patrick gets off on corrupting people.

•As you are rambling on and on about something, Reggie will nod off and fall asleep but you’re too busy talking to even notice.

•Would feel guilty if he accidentally snaps and yells at you

Henry

•Let’s be honest here, Henry has zero patients for this.

•He would physically grab you by the shoulders, sit you down, and tell you to “calm the fuck down.”

•If you still don’t listen to him, he would pull out his knife just to scare you into settling down.

•When you keep going on and on about something, talking a mile per minute, he would cut you off and say, “Hey, listen...I have a better solution for your mouth..”

•Similar to Patrick, he likes to use your child-like behavior as a way to control you. Always telling you what to do, where to go, etc. He smirks at the guys in a cocky way to show off his authority over you.

•Makes fun of every single one of your interests no matter what it is.

•If you have stuffed animals on your bed, prepare for him to laugh at you. He’ll throw them all off the bed, refusing to sleep near any of them.

•When you do something to upset him, he would rip the head off the stuffed animal and throw it at you. (Bonus- Vic will try to sew the head back on for you, but fail miserably)

Victor

•He has some patients, but when he gets annoyed, his facial expressions give it away.

•If you’re watching a movie together and you keep getting up, he will grab you by your waist and pull you back, keeping you in place.

•If you keep talking throughout the movie, Vic will get annoyed by like the 5th time it happens and just covers your mouth with his hand.

•He does not take your child-like behavior to the extreme and use it against you like Patrick and Henry do, but sometimes he will use it to bribe you into going out when you don’t want to.

•He’s protective but at the same time, he lets you hold your own and doesn’t defend you/ protect you against Patrick’s or Henry’s antics.

•Will down-right say no if you ask him to teach you how to skateboard. “No, no, and no. You are a hazard.”

•Sometimes Vic will cave and be nice, allowing you to watch your childish shows, but the minute you fall asleep, he’s changing it.

•When you do something utterly stupid, like almost get yourself killed by not looking both ways before crossing the street, Vic would freak out. “Jesus Christ, what's wrong with you?! I gotta start taking fuckin baby aspirin at an early age to prevent the onset of an early heart attack with you around!”

[bi-bard]

Chick Flick Moments - Sam Winchester Imagine (Supernatural)

Title: Chick Flick Moments

Pairing: Sam Winchester X Reader

Requested: by an anonymous reader

Word Count: 2,363 words

Warning(s): violence, cussing, Sam embarrassing himself, spoilers for any movie/show listed in the author's note

Summary: (Season 11) Gabriel takes a break from hiding to teach (Y/n) and Sam to forgive each other.

Author's Note: I had so much fun putting this request together! Also, if I remember correctly, this reader wanted to remain anonymous.

Here are links to all the scenes that inspired parts of this imagine:

1 (Princess Bride), 2 (8x12 Criminal Minds; can't find just the scene to link), 3 (Moulin Rouge), 4 (The Notebook), 5 (The 10 Things I Hate About You), 6 (Gilmore Girls), 7 (La La Land)

Hey! I did a rewrite of the ending of Supernatural. It took a really long time to complete, so it would mean a lot to me if you check it out. Here’s a link! (it’s on my personal account)

-----------------------------------

I rolled my eyes as I walked through the bunker.

Sam was still ranting about the most recent hunt. I was just tired of listening to it. Dean had long since given up trying to control his brother, who had shown no sign of listening to anyone.

"You can't just throw yourself into every single enemy," Sam yelled. "Fun fact, you're not Superman!"

"Oh my god," I finally, turning around. I had been halfway through the library at this point. Dean continued through the bunker, ignoring us. "I ran up to one extra vamp because you were about to get your throat ripped out! Yes, I put myself in danger but it was to save you!"

"Why are you so desperate to be a hero," he asked.

"Why are you so pissy that I saved you," I shouted back.

I let out a yell before turning and leaving.

"Where are you going?"

"To bed," I shouted from down the hall. "Maybe you'll be nicer in the morning! You're welcome for saving your ass!"

I stormed into my room and slammed the door shut. I changed quickly, throwing my old clothes into the corner before curling up on my bed. My emotions got the better of me. I started crying into my pillow.

Imagine saving the man you secretly loved... and then he got mad at you about it.

I fell asleep crying that night.

--time skip--

I shot awake, cringing at how bright it was.

I looked around, letting my eyes adjust to the light.

I was on a hill. I was on a hill, lying in the grass with the sun shining on my face. This is not good.

I stood up and did a circle to look around the long stretches of grass. Nothing looked even slightly familiar.

"For fuck's sake," I muttered.

I decided that the best option would be to try to climb down and find a person... somewhere.

I was just about to start making my way down the hill when I felt a hand grab me.

Out of pure fear, I grabbed the person and pulled them from behind me. The person went flying down the hill.

"(Y/n)," I heard Sam's voice yell as he rolled down the hill.

I put my hand over my mouth. He soon stopped rolling and then he stood up, scrambling to pull the black mask off of his face. I sighed, dropping my hand when I saw he was alright.

"Sam," I called.

"Your instinct is to throw some down a hill," Sam asked.

"When a masked man tries to grab me, definitely," I replied. "Fun fact, Sam, I can actually defend myself."

He gave me a sarcastic smile. I shot it right back to him.

Sam looked down at his outfit before sighing and shrugging at me. He had just started to move back up the hill when my visions went dark.

I opened my eyes a few moments later.

What had been an open field was now a dark warehouse or factory. I saw Sam across from me, but also a group of people behind him. I recognized them. They were characters from Criminal Minds, a guilty pleasure I watched when we weren't hunting.

I tried to figure out what was happening.

Then, I became all too aware of the barrel of a gun pressing into my neck.

"No," Sam yelled.

It clicked.

Sam was supposed to be Spencer. I was Maeve. This was Zugzwang.

My heart dropped.

"Wait, please, don't," Sam yelled as the gun pressed harder on my neck.

"Sam, shut up," I snapped.

"Me for (Y/n)," he shouted.

"You would do that," Diane- the unsub of that episode- asked.

"Yes," Sam replied.

"No," I yelled. "Sam, shut up."

"You shut up," Diane growled at me.

"One difference between me and her...," I growled back.

I grabbed the gun, pushing it forward, away from my neck. The bullet she tried to fire hit the brick wall. I turned, bringing an elbow down on her arm. Her hand dropped the gun into my grasp. I pointed it toward her.

"...I'm not scared of a simple gun."

The others walked over and arrested her. I looked at Sam.

"If you continued, she would've killed herself, which would've killed me," I explained. He furrowed his eyebrows. "I watch this show when we aren't hunting."

He walks over, going to hug me before the scene changes again.

"Holy...," I trailed off as I looked around.

Around us, we could see the tops of roofs and a beautiful night sky. It was almost a dreamy setting.

"Where are we now," Sam asked.

"Only the great Moulin Rouge," Sam and I both twirled around to face... Gabriel. "I know, I know... I'm not dead, anyway!"

I rolled my eyes.

"You two need to learn a lesson," he pointed at us.

"It's like back in 2010," I mumbled. "Play our roles to get out. Probably why we were pulled out of the last two."

"You'll fall into them naturally, I promise," Gabriel smirked. "And yes. Stop ignoring the plotline."

"Alright... sure, I was gonna get shot for your crappy game," I snapped sarcastically.

Then, he was gone. I rolled my eyes.

"So, what are the roles," Sam asked as I walked around the top of the elephant.

"Well, Christian and Satine," I pointed between us. "Maeve and Spencer. The Princess Bride and Westley. It's all romance."

"Why," Sam scrunched his face up.

"Because Gabe wants to get his rocks off," I said sarcastically, "I don't know, Sam!"

I walked down the stairs of the elephant. It was gorgeous here. It was just as vibrant as the movie made it look.

"Wow," I look back at Sam. "This is awesome."

I chuckled and nodded.

"What seen is it?"

"The Elephant Love Medley," I said. "Ewan McGregor and Nicole Kidman sing this mash-up of famous love songs as his character tries to convince her that there is nothing more important than love."

"I'm not gonna sing," Sam shook his head.

"I was not gonna ask you too," I chuckled. "I've heard you sing."

"Rude."

I just shrugged.

I looked around at the room, trying to figure out how to play these roles without the singing.

"Wait," I said. "Come on."

I grabbed his hand and pulled him back to the stairs.

"What is it," Sam asked as we made it to the top.

"At the end of the medley, Christian and Satine are dancing and they walk out onto this field of clouds and are held up in the sky."

"What-"

"This whole movie feels like a fever dream the first time you watch it."

"Come on," Sam held a hand out to me.

"Can you dance?"

"Not well," he chuckled. "The role didn't say I needed to be good."

He grabbed my hand and pulled me closer to him.

I tried to lead his steps and laughed as he stumbled into a pattern.

"Come on," I moved back so I could grab only one hand.

I led him a few steps forward and onto- what seemed to be- steps in the clouds. I let out an excited laugh when it worked. Sam looked at me and grinned at my excitement.

As soon as got to the top of the steps... it was gone.

We were in the middle of the street now.

"Aw, that was just mean," I mumbled. I glared at Sam when I heard him laughed.

He held his hands up jokingly before extending one toward me. I furrowed my eyebrows at him.

"I know what movie this is," he shrugged. I motioned for him to continue explaining. He walked over, hand still held out to me, "The Notebook. Noah and Allie dance in the street. So... will you dance with me? Even without the sequence where we dance in the clouds."

I bit my lip as I smiled.

I took his hand and let him pull me into the street. I laughed as I stumbled into his chest.

We fell into the scene naturally.

Sam held one of my hands in his and held my waist with the other. I placed my free hand on his shoulder. I looked up at him. It felt strange that we so casually fell into the scene but I was happy.

Sam jokingly twirled me around before pulling me back to his chest. I closed my eyes and chuckled.

"What," he asked.

"Nothing," I shook my head. "I just never saw you as such a romantic."

"Well, don't tell anyone, you'll ruin my reputation," he said sarcastically.

I rolled my eyes.

Sam spun the two of us in a circle before going to dip me. I didn't think I'd ever get to experience something like this. It always just felt like something I should forget about as a hunter. I was starting to forget why I was so angry with Sam in the first place.

I barely noticed that Sam was leaning in before the scene around me changed.

I was on a football field.

I looked around.

There was no sign of Sam.

"Crap," I mumbled, trying to figure out where to look first.

Then, there was a voice going over the field's speakers.

"You're just too good to be true... can't take my eyes off of you..."

I looked around toward the stands to see Sam walking with a mic. Can't sing, my ass.

"You'd be like heaven to touch... I wanna hold you so much"

"Oh my god," I muttered.

"At long last love has arrived... And I thank God I'm alive... You're just too good to be true... Can't take my eyes off of you."

I tried to bite back my laugh. He shrugged at me with an embarrassed smile and stepped into the actual stands.

We both jumped when the marching band started playing. I looked to see Gabriel smirking and leading their march.

Sam and I shrugged at each other. He continued on with the act.

Now, Sam Winchester pretending to be Patrick in "10 Things I Hate About You" was a treat... and was exactly what you imagined it would be.

He was almost stumbling down the steps as he continued on with the act. I was laughing hysterically by the time I saw the security guards starting to run in.

"Sam," I yelled, pointing behind him.

"Crap," I heard through the mic (which made me almost double-over in laughter) as he tried to take off running.

As soon as he was grabbed, the scene changed.

We both took a deep breath when we realized we were sitting together in a car.

"Thank god," Sam mumbled.

"That was a great performance, by the way," I said, still chuckling.

"Shut up," he muttered, laughing along with me. We fell silent after a minute. "So... what scene is this?"

"I have no idea," I replied.

"It's Gilmore Girls, dumbasses," we heard Gabriel's voice but saw no sign of him. "Season 1, Episode 16... absolute idiots."

"Didn't peg him for a Gilmore Girls fan," I said. Sam laughed.

"Me neither."

We fell silent again.

"I'm sorry," Sam said, looking over at me. "You were right. You can defend yourself and you were just trying to help me. I'm sorry for being such a dick about it."

I grinned, "Thanks... I forgive you. I know you were just worried about me."

Sam smiled back.

"I... umm...," Sam looked down for a moment, clearing his throat and collecting his thoughts. "I just... I love you."

My heart leaped up into my throat. I blinked at him a few times and forced a chuckle out. Which was the wrong response but I panicked. Hunters... we could face the devil but emotions were a no-no.

"(Y/n)," Sam's smile dropped slowly when he realized I wasn't responding.

I was just about to respond when the scene changed again.

Sam was gone again and I was on a city street.

"Dammit," I muttered.

I ran down the street, turning the corner. I looked at the wall of the building I was by. Was this a jazz club?

I walked through the door and was guided to a table so I could sit down and watch the performance.

"La La Land," I said.

Sam and I watched this together. Dean had gone to bed. We weren't tired and just turned this movie on because it looked like it was mostly happy.

Big dance numbers, beautiful effects... and the epilogue that made me hide tears from Sam.

I looked at the stage. Sam was sitting there, wearing a suit, looking at the audience nervously. He hesitantly reached toward the piano. It was like it was a prerecorded track. It sounded just like the movie.

I smiled.

I just wanted to talk to him.

Soon the performance ended.

I stood up and started walking over, seeing Sam starting to walk out.

I grinned at him, "Sam-"

He cut me off by cupping the sides of my face and kissing me softly. I touched his sides lightly, smiling against his lips. It was... magic. Absolute magic.

Then, I shot awake, back in my bed in the bunker.

The game was over. Thank God.

"(Y/n)," I heard yell through the bunker hall.

I ran into the hall and ran toward his room.

We stopped as soon as we saw each other.

"Please tell me that wasn't a dream," I said. He shook his head, smiling widely at me.

I ran over, pulling him down to kiss him again. It was softer than our last kiss and I loved it. His arms wrapped around me and pulled me closer. I buried my hands through his hair.

"Woah, what did I miss," we pulled away when we heard Dean.

I could basically feel Sam chuckle against my lips before he moved to look at his brother. I turned around in Sam's arm.

"A chick flick moment," Sam answered.

"Alright," Dean gave us a weird look before leaving without another word.

I looked back at Sam with a smile, "I love you."

"I love you too," he grinned and leaned in to kiss me softly again.

-----------------------------------

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[jjdoggies-fanfics]

Day 6: Endings/Beginnings

Link to Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27429154/chapters/67049683

@fivevanya

Title: Written On These Walls Are The Stories That I Can’t Explain

Chapter 1 of 4, the rest will be posted on Ao3

Klaus watched Allison do some final touches on the very natural makeup onto Vanya’s face, having it that had been approved by their sister roughly a month prior. He could see the nerves on who he’d always considered to be his little sister’s face; evidently the reminders from the few other people that had been flittering in and out of the room that Five and Vanya’s wedding was set to start in less than an hour wasn’t helping.

As Allison took a small step back, examining her perfectionist work, Klaus joined his older sister’s side, looking over his own work on Vanya’s perfectly pinned and twisted hair, paired with the flowered headband and white veil pinned to the back, if he  does  say so himself. Five had given him, in mostly secret, meaning Vanya didn’t know about it but the rest of them did, that he wanted Vanya’s hair to be pinned back and out of her face, as she had no reason to hide behind it at her own wedding. And Klaus and Allison, the unofficial hair and makeup team, heavily agreed, as did their other siblings.

For the most part, the siblings had unanimously agreed that their assigned numerical order basically implicated them as Luther being the oldest, although now that title belonged to Five, and Vanya as the youngest with Klaus being the  true  middle child. And because of this unspoken notion that Vanya was the youngest, each of the siblings felt varying degrees of protectiveness towards each of their siblings, but Vanya in particular. In part due to the first nearly thirty years of their lives believing that she was born without powers, which was a lie,  obviously .

In this new timeline though, within a month of Reginald Hargreeves, once again, killing himself in hopes of ‘reuniting the Umbrella Academy’ not knowing that they had never broken up in this timeline, only separating themselves from him, Five and Vanya were engaged and had roped Allison, Klaus, and Ben into helping plan the event.

Back to the issue at hand, despite basically  everyone  around them knowing that Five and Vanya had practically been made for each other, Klaus could practically see his sister shaking with nerves, a previous lifetime of a lack of self-confidence rising to the surface. He carefully reached a hand out and took a hold of one of Vanya’s hands, rubbing little circles into her hand in reassurance. “What’s got you so stressed Vanny?” he asked, “Is it Allison? Because we can kick her out, we don’t need her anyway.” 

He’d pretended to whisper the last bit, not lowering his voice at all, if anything getting louder, but the giggle that Vanya gave him was worth the soft glare Allison gave him for it. Klaus could see the slightest bit of tension ease from Vanya’s shoulders, as well as the small tremors nearly ceasing. “No, no, no.” Vanya said, “Nothing like that, it’s more, I just, I’m a. I’m just feeling a little, I don’t know-”

“Scared?” Allison guessed, “because it’s perfectly normal to be a little scared  right  before your wedding. That’s how I felt before I married Raymond.”

“Not Patrick?” Klaus teased.

Allison laughed shortly, ending it with a sigh before explaining that, “My marriage to Patrick was very different from my marriage to Raymond. Patrick and I’s wedding was very big, and extravagant, and public, and I knew like none of the people there. And the ones that I did were self-centered assholes. While Raymond and I’s wedding was small and private, I still didn’t know that many people there all that well, but I'd rather talk to them than those at Patrick and I’s wedding.”

“So being Mrs. Chestnut was  better , than being the A-List Mrs. Wilson?” Klaus asked, “How is that possible?”

“I didn’t say it was better!” Allison hissed, albeit the bite in it was lost by the barely contained laughter behind her grin, “I just said they were different.”

Klaus muttered to Vanya, “Different, different she says. You believe that?” Once again getting Vanya, and Allison, to laugh a bit, before he asked Vanya, much more seriously, “What about marrying Five, the little bastard that he is, is causing you to feel scared?”

“Um, well, it’s not so much that I’m like, scared.” Vanya said, “It’s more that, it’s more like, I’m just, I don’t know, nervous I guess. Because like, what if we’re making a huge mistake and once we’re married then we get into an argument or something and then we want to get a divorce, and we wouldn’t be able to be in the same room as each other, and our divorce leads to you guys all having to pick between me and Five, and then my half of the family wouldn’t talk to Five’s half of the family and that this wedding is what caused the entire family to be split in half all because Five and I got into some stupid argument.”

Allison and Klaus exchanged quick glances while Vanya worked herself up, again, before Allison took the lead in calming their sister down, again. “Vanya, not that any of us think that you and Five would get into any kind of argument that would lead to you guys getting a divorce, but even if you did, something insignificant like a divorce would not cause our weird, dysfunctional family to be broken up.”

Some of what Allison had said had gotten to Vanya, but not quite enough for her to completely be reassured that her wedding wasn’t going to ruin their family. Klaus added, “You know, I don’t think I’ve seen two people more made for each other than you and Five, Vanya.” He paused, reveling in the odd looks Vanya and Allison, more so Vanya as Allison was annoyed he’d used a line from her speech later, before laughing, continuing with, “God that was cheesy. Anyway, the point is Vanya, that couples and people argue. That’s normal. But, at least to me, and most of our siblings, as far as I know, it seems that you and Five are  destined to be together, as siblings, best friends, or married. Hell, he’s learned how to time travel to get back to you.”

“He came back for all of us Klaus,” Vanya said, “not just me.” 

Rather than point out to her that Five had quickly switched from killing whoever caused the apocalypse to just stopping them and helping them when he found out it was Vanya, Klaus did however, take note that she didn’t disagree with the rest of what he’d said.

Before anyone of them could say another word, there was,  thankfully  , a knock at the door of the makeshift dressing room momentarily paused any more talking. Klaus helped Vanya not trip over her dress, wearing white flats and  not  the short heels Allison and Klaus had tried talking her into wearing, while Allison answered whoever was knocking, pulling open the door to find Ben, crisply dressed in his grey top tux with black pants that matched Allison’s rose gold, with silver detailing, dress.

“Ben,” Allison started, glazing back at Klaus and Vanya before continuing, “we weren’t expecting you so soon.”

Their brother let out a short laugh, telling them that, “As much as I would love to be able to give you guys a few more minutes, Allison and Klaus are needed for line up.”

“Already?” Klaus asked, there was no way it was already-

“Yes, already.” Ben answered, “It’s quarter ‘til nine, and  I  am not going to be the cause of any delays and face the wrath of Five. So, if I were you, I’d go get lined up before Diego has to come look for you.”

“Diego?” Allison questioned, “Not Five?”

Ben shook his head, a small smirk on his face, as he told them, “Five is  oddly superstitious about not seeing His Bride until it’s ‘time’ and Diego has more time than Luther does, so Diego.” 

Without anymore convincing needed, Allison and Klaus both quickly left, giving their sister a few more quick, encouraging words before slipping out of the room, leaving Vanya with Ben. As they left, Klaus muttered something quickly to Ben as he passed.

As much as Vanya wanted to finick with her hair as she looked in the mirror, if only in an effort to avoid facing her thoughts (and Ben), the hair spray and Klaus’s previous reminders to ‘stop messing with your hair Vanya, or it’ll  never  be done in time’ kept her from doing so. And instead, she tried to tuck the little curls, that her brother and sister had gotten her up at 6am to burn into her hair, behind her ears, but they kept falling back out from behind them. She was still trying to avoid talking to, or even looking at, Ben, knowing she’d have to face the music.

God, she’s acting like she did something wrong.

Inevitably, Vanya turned from the mirror to face her brother, who was giving her a rather knowing look. “Vanya,” Ben started, “it’s okay if your a  bit stressed. It’s-”

“Normal?” Vanya guessed.

“I was going to say reasonable. But normal works too.” Ben replied. He placed a gentle hand on Vanya’s arm, “Are you ready? Or do you need another minute or two?” Before Vanya replied, he pulled her towards the door, saying that he needed to show her something.

They walked the opposite direction of where the ceremony was going to be taking place in roughly ten minutes at that point, and instead Ben lead her towards the reception area. “Ben? What are we doing?”

Her brother said nothing, just kept leading her towards the reception area, which was still getting the final details set up. There was a pair of wooden doors in front of them, the only thing separating Vanya and Ben from the reception area. 

Ben pushed open the doors, and pulled Vanya into the semi-lit room. As she walked into the room, Vanya nearly immediately noticed the many, many, many pictures covering the walls, filling various frames, and littering the spaces left on the tables, most of which she didn’t remember being taken. There were an array of pictures, all of which had her and Five, most featuring their siblings, and several others featuring their friends and tolerable coworkers.

Vanya looked through a small portion of the pictures, being transported back to the memory attached to them as she did, for several minutes, not noticing that nearly all the nervousness that she’d felt before had disappeared. And when Ben asked her, one last time, “Are you ready?”

She simply replied, with a soft smile “Yes.”

[slomalley]

* ALICE  PAGANI ,  CIS FEMALE  +  SHE / HER  |   you  know  SLOANE  O’MALLEY ,  right ?  they’re  TWENTY - TWO ,  and  they’ve  lived  in  irving  for ,  like ,  THEIR  WHOLE  LIFE ?  well ,  their  spotify  wrapped  says  they  listened  to  LOVE  SONG  BY  YUNGBLUD  like ,  a  million  times  this  year ,  which  makes  sense  ‘cause  they’ve  got  that  whole  SCRAPING  YOUR  KNUCKLES  ON  THE  SIDEWALK ,  WEDGING  YOURSELF  BETWEEN  A  ROCK  AND  A  HARD  PLACE ,  PLAYING  A  NEVER ENDING  GAME  OF  CATCHUP  thing  going  on .  i  just  checked  and  their  birthday  is  JUNE  6TH ,  so  they’re  a  GEMINI ,  which  is  unsurprising ,  all  things  considered .  

TW  INCLUDE  divorce tw ,  alcoholism tw

AESTHETICS : 

scraping your knuckles on the sidewalk, wedging yourself between a rock and a hard place, playing a never ending game of catchup, middle child syndrome, balancing relationships on a thumbtack, you don’t recognize yourself anymore, growing up too fast, your legs were never long enough, broken hairbrushes, diy piercings, rolling down a hill, weightless, flipping a coin and changing your face, wearing shoes that are too big and hand me downs that are too old, kicking up dirt, mud pies 

CHARACTER  INSPO : 

katniss everdeen (the hunger games), lady bird (ladybird), carl gallagher (shameless before his plot went downhill), fiona gallagher (shamless, we love range), james potter (harry potter), that one skater girl (booksmart), scout finch (to kill a mockingbird), arya stark (game of thrones), max mayfield (stranger things), katriana stratford (10 things i hate about you), all little sisters  with  little sisters everywhere

GENERAL STATISTICS :

full name :  sloane dierdre o’malley

age / dob :  twenty two / june 6th

gender :  cis female

pronouns :  she / her

faceclaim :  alice pagani

orientation :  non-defined queer

residence :  lilac ridge

occupation :  jobless burden

pinterest :  HERE ! 

BIOGRAPHY : 

sloane o’malley is the middle child of the once unified o’malley family, crammed somewhere between the first accident and the third. her father patrick worked, at the time, as a full time construction worker and occasional carpenter (when duty called) and her mother aoife worked at the local supermarket. they lived in lilac ridge out of necessity, but the o’malley children had a pretty happy childhood (probably due to the fact that their parents and sean always forced them out of the trailer so as to not overhear all the fighting).

sloane was always one to follow her older brother, sean, everywhere. despite sean being four years her senior and her little sister fia being only one year her junior, she always felt like she and sean had the most in common. this was probably due to the fact that she modeled her entire personality after his own, and not, like sloane told herself, because they were natural twin flames. 

she was a a tomboy growing up, for obvious reasons. sean skated at the skatepark, so sloane skated at the skatepark. sean went to the arcade after school so sloane went to the arcade after school. sean made sloane eat bugs for fun so sloane made fia eat bugs for fun. it annoyed sean at first, when he was too young to understand the importance of looking after his little sisters. when the need hadn’t quite presented itself. 

patrick and aoife got a divorce when sloane was nine. thanks to the careful watchings-outs of sean, she had never really understood the extent her parents had argued before the split  -  had never picked up on her father’s drinking habit, how late he stayed at the bar after work to avoid coming home, how her mother had picked up double shifts at the supermarket to make up for how often patrick overslept his own shifts  -  so it came as a bit of a shock. 

as if to add insult to injury, patrick moved out of lilac ridge and into delphinus heights after the divorce. he was an adult man with three children and an ex wife living with a roommate, but sloane couldn’t shake the feeling that it was a slap in the face. that he was moving up in the world without her. 

sean and fia didn’t feel so divided in the divorce. they attended lasagna nights at patrick’s every wednesday. sean was known to make sure his father was out of bed every morning for work, despite not even living with him. fia took to cleaning up all of the cans and day old frozen pizzas he scattered about so that his roommate didn’t kick him out. sloane sat at lilac ridge and sulked, overlooking her mother’s faults and driving a wedge between the family. she would get blamed for this more than once.

fia was always the baby of the family, despite how close in age the sisters were. sean felt he needed to look after both sloane and fia, however, bearing all the weight of inattentive parents on his sagging shoulders, and sloane resented him for it. she still wanted to be his best friend, his equal, everything he was and more. she wanted to help look after fia, who was too kind for the world she was given, not hard around like edges like sloane. sloane was sure she could take care of herself.

and, for the most part, she did. a girl who grew up too fast. she bagged groceries at the supermarket with her mother in middle school, worked the cash register at the gas station in high school, shot fire at anyone who bad mouthed her family, partied with her brother’s friends when he wasn’t looking, got really really good at skateboarding when he was. dated a slew of people whose names she sometimes forgot, sometimes a few at a time, would be informed she had mega daddy issues more than a couple of times. 

sean didn’t go to college. he works as a mechanic. sloane didn’t go to college either. a partial mix of not caring to get any sort of formal education after it stopped being required of her and hoping that there would be enough money to send fia off if she was the only one. sloane did, however, stop working odd jobs to keep her family afloat. a lack of motivation hit her like a ton of bricks around her senior year of high school. she hasn’t been able to find it again, but she also hasn’t found it in herself to care much. 

this is all over the place. i know a lot of details of her life but having trouble jotting them down so ?? pls tell me if this doesn’t make sense. 

PERSONALITY : 

headstrong. stubborn. loyal to a fault. selectively uncaring. unmotivated. tough as nails. thrill seeking. rebellious. imposter syndrome. snarky. witty. prideful. selectively passionate. strangely laid back for someone who will just as easily jump the gun. attention seeking. affection starved and disgusted. complex and confusing and headache inducing and trying her best. complains about things before she’s even tried them. bit as a child probably isn’t above it now. sometimes kind of pitiful sometimes terrifying. 

WANTED CONNECTIONS : 

hello fellow skaters. want to form a clique? 

brothers friends that lead her astray (she went willingly) and are also her friends. i think i’m going to keep sean an npc bc i’ve played him before but he’s 26 ?? so anyone in that age range. 

aforementioned lovers whose names she sometimes couldn’t remember and who sometimes she cheated on, partially because her parents ruined her perception of love and partially because she genuinely forgot she was with them? <3 

people her own age from irving that she knew from school? maybe she was a bad influence on them because she grew up too fast idk. 

beach bums. she can surf a little bit. her sister fia in my head surfs a lot so she still spends time there. supportive sister alert ew..... 

lilac ridge neighbors? rich kids she hated in high school on principle? 

something oddly specific that i can not describe. anything that comes to ur head. i’m not picky i say yes to anything.

[flowerfan2]

A Timing Thing

Happy new year, everyone!  A year ago I never imagined what this year would bring... and I’m not even talking about all the hard stuff, I’m talking about my love for Schitt’s Creek and the way the fandom has captured my heart.  Who knew that my first 2021 fic would be a story about David Rose and Patrick Brewer?  Not me.  Anyway, here you go, the latest installment in my series of Episode 5 codas.  

Best wishes and warmest regards for a better 2021.

David x Patrick, 1600 words, A03

Summary:  Sometimes a lease is more than just a piece of paper.

Alexis shoots a pointed look at Patrick, gives David an exaggerated hug and two smacking air kisses, and flounces out of the store.

Patrick trails after her and flips the sign on the door to closed.  “I think Alexis is mad at me,” he says, turning to David.

David focuses on the lip balms arranged by the cash register.  Sometimes they topple over while he’s ringing customers up, resulting in lip balms rolling off the counter.  This is obviously a problem that he needs to address right now, and it requires his full attention.

“David?”  Patrick leans a hand on the counter, and David is graced with the view of his perfect nails, with their round nail beds.  He’s never seen Patrick so much as chew on a cuticle.

“What?” he asks, when it becomes clear that Patrick is waiting for a response.

“Is Alexis mad at me?”

“No, why would you think that?”

“She’s not talking to me, for one.  Also she sent me a string of emojis that either means she wants to kill me or go vampire hunting.”

Alexis is, in fact, mad at Patrick, although David really, really doesn’t want to talk about it.  He’s humiliated enough over the apartment incident, he doesn’t need to explain to Patrick how excited his sister was for him over the idea that his boyfriend asked him to move in together, and how painfully embarrassing it was to tell her that Patrick hadn’t meant that at all.

“I should go.  I’m meeting my mother for dinner.”  David slips out from behind the counter, but Patrick stops him with a hand on his arm.  It’s been a long day working in the store with Patrick always just a few feet away, but David made it through, doing his best to push aside all thoughts of his pathetic misunderstanding and just act natural.  He’s not sure how much more he can take.

“David, please.  Don’t go yet.”  Patrick looks worried now, and that makes David’s heart ache in a way that isn’t fair.  As raw as he’s feeling, he still doesn’t want Patrick to hurt.  It’s making it hard to remember what to do.

David pauses, and lets Patrick turn him, his hands on David’s waist.   Patrick opens his mouth to speak, but David cuts him off. “I’d invite you to dinner, but I think my mom is mad at you too.”  Patrick’s face falls, and David wants to bang his head against something, but that would involve moving away from Patrick and he can’t bring himself to do that right now.  He doesn’t want to be cruel to Patrick, he just needs to get out of this situation with his dignity and, hopefully, their relationship, intact.  “Actually, that’s entirely untrue, I’m sure she’s on your side.  She can’t imagine why anyone would want to live with me in the first place.”

“David, it’s not that-”

“No, I know, it’s okay-”

“David….” Patrick’s still got his hands on David’s body, and David loves it, loves that Patrick’s hands feel so natural on him.  His own arms have come up to loop around the back of Patrick’s neck, which makes no sense at all, given that a large part of David’s brain is telling him to leave the store tout de suite before he gets himself into more trouble.

It’s as if his body doesn’t know anything’s wrong.  It still wants to feel Patrick bump up against him, press a hand up against the small of his back over his sweater, guide him through their day.  David slides his fingers up into Patrick’s hair and then leans his forehead on Patrick’s shoulder, unable to resist the comfort his boyfriend is offering.

“Come on,” Patrick says, after a minute or two of stalemated silence.  “Let’s go for a walk.”

David can feel the way his face twists at the idea.  “A walk?”

“Yeah.  We need some fresh air.”

“I’m not sure I’m properly outfitted for a walk.”

“We’re not climbing a mountain, David, I think you’ll survive.”

David’s not thrilled, but he’s curious. He obediently follows Patrick out of the store, taking a moment to make sure the door is locked.  “So where will this walk take place?”

“Right here,” Patrick says, and turns towards Bob’s Garage.  “Come on.”  He holds out his hand and wiggles his fingers, and David frowns.  He takes Patrick’s hand and they start off down the sidewalk.

“I don’t see how this is going to help,” David says.  “And I’m having dinner with-”

“Your mom, you said.  But I can’t imagine your mom is going to be ready to eat until at least seven o’clock, and it’s only just after five.”

“Hmph.”  Patrick has a point that’s hard to rebut.  Moira Rose doesn’t dine with the early birds, and even David doesn’t need two hours to get ready for dinner at the café.  It’s just that David doesn’t know what’s expected of him right now, and it’s making him anxious.  His mother has been a thorn in his side often enough, it figures she’s also failing at being an appropriate getaway excuse.

They walk past a few drab houses and an empty lot.  It’s not particularly scenic.  David can’t help wondering where Patrick is taking him. “We’re not doing another ropes course, are we?  Because I have to draw the line there.”

“No.”  Patrick gives his hand a squeeze and smiles a little, although the smile doesn’t last long.  It’s a shame, because Patrick’s smiles are lovely.  At the same time it’s not all that surprising, given that his boyfriend might be taking him out into the woods to murder him.  It doesn’t seem like something to smile about.

There’s a little park on the corner a few blocks past the garage, and it becomes clear that this is the destination Patrick has in mind.  They stop in front of an old-fashioned metal slide and a set of playground equipment that has seen better days.

Patrick lets go of David’s hand and takes a seat on one of the swings, tilting his head at the one next to him.

“We should talk about inventory,” David says, gingerly sitting down on the swing and testing it to make sure it will hold his weight.  “Then at least if there’s an accident we can claim it was a work meeting.”

“I don’t want to talk about inventory,” Patrick says.

David rolls his eyes.  This goes without saying - of course Patrick doesn’t want to talk about inventory, or anything neutral and pain-free.  Probably Patrick wants to lecture David on the appropriate type of relationship that lends itself to moving in together, and the ways in which their relationship just isn’t the moving in together kind.  David imagines Patrick will do this in a very gentle and thoughtful way, and they’ll move past it, and everything will be okay, at least until David oversteps again.  In some ways it will be better, even, because then David will know exactly where they stand.

Patrick catches himself with his feet, stopping his swing and then pushing off at the ground, until he is swinging in sync with David.  He grins softly at David and holds out his hand again, like he did outside the store.  David takes it, and the motion throws off David’s rhythm, making his swing veer sideways and twist off course. Patrick hangs on until they steady, swinging slowly back and forth together.

“I signed the lease on the new apartment today,” Patrick says.  “During lunch, I met Ray and signed the lease.”

“That’s good,” David says, watching his sneakers get dusty as his toes push up puffs of dirt.  “He really wanted that commission.”

“I had to put down first and last months’ rent, and a security deposit.  It’s a twelve-month lease.”

David looks up and finds Patrick looking right back at him.  He feels like he’s missing something.

“Um, that’s good?”

Patrick lets go of David’s hand and David’s swing twists again, until David puts his feet down to stop it.  “You and I weren’t on the same page about the apartment,” Patrick says, looking frustrated.

“That has been made abundantly clear to me.”

“No, I mean…” Patrick stands up and the swing bumps against the back of his legs.  “When I came here, I didn’t know how long I’d be staying.  Renting a room at Ray’s was easy.  I really didn’t think I’d be here long at all, I just had to go somewhere…”

David stands up too.  It’s no fun swinging by himself, and besides, when Patrick gets that look on his face, David has to be closer to him.  Patrick still feels guilty about leaving his hometown, even though he clearly needed the change.  David’s hands land on Patrick’s shoulders and he rubs his thumbs over the cool cotton of his shirt.  “It’s okay,” he says automatically.

“No, I haven’t even said….” Patrick presses his lips together and tries again.  “The thing is, looking for a real apartment with a lease, I thought I was showing you something.  Telling you something – something good.”

David meets Patrick’s gaze, and suddenly, looking into those warm brown eyes, he gets it.  “A lease like that is a commitment.” A shiver runs down David’s spine.

“Yes,” Patrick says, and David can feel the immediate relief in his shoulders.  David pulls him in close, hands sliding around his back, and Patrick melts against him.  “David, I swear to god, I didn’t mean to hurt you.  I never even considered that you would think about moving in with me yet.”

“You were trying to make a grand declaration about the strength of our relationship, and I was afraid it was the opposite,” David says, almost to himself, as he holds Patrick against him.  “Does that bode well for our future?”

Patrick breathes out a laugh.  “I don’t know.  But having some privacy does, right?”

David pulls back and lets the hope that has bubbled up inside him spread to his face.  “Definitely.”

[aion-rsa]

Insidious: Is The Further Real?

https://ift.tt/39C1Z8d

“The Further is a world far beyond our own, yet it’s all around us, a place without time as we know it,” Elise Rainier (Lin Shaye) explains in the 2011 occult horror film Insidious. “It’s a dark realm filled with the tortured souls of the dead, a place not meant for the living.” Director James Wan saw the astral world through the eyes of fear. It was how he was able to evoke the most terror from the nether regions of soul and thought.

Horror films have made a spiritual ghetto out of the universe which lies between dream, sleep and death. They focus on the malevolent realm of incubi, succubae and the Red-Lipstick-Face Demon. The map to the Further is not limited to shadowy studies. Many mystical practices are divided into black and white magic out of fear and superstition, but there can be room for both.

Insidious starts off like a fairly typical haunted house movie. It opens shortly after Renai (Rose Byrne) and Josh Lambert (Patrick Wilson) move into a spooky new house with their three children. When the property progresses from ominous to hazardous, the family move into an even spookier house, fire their real estate broker, and contact an astral travel agent. The psychically gifted supernatural expert, Shaye’s Elise, explains the hauntings are not a feature of the multiple houses, but the results of a family member embarking on nocturnal astral projection missions which he believes are dreams.

The concept that the soul can leave the body during dream states is ancient. But for all the purported cosmic intelligence culled from out-of-body incidents, practitioners have found no way to scientifically measure if a spirit leaves or enters a body. It is a concept rejected by scientists but beloved by filmmakers and other artists.

In the film, the first person to put the notes together is Renai, the mother of young Dalton (Ty Simpkins), who falls into a mysterious coma early in the first act. Renai, who is a songwriter, experiences two initial contacts. The first comes in a box of missing sheet music. Musicians have always been pioneers when it comes to gray areas of society and spirituality, and rockers chose to embrace the Further. George Harrison melodically rhapsodizes about the extracorporeal aspects of certain Hindu practices in the Beatles’ song “The Inner Light.” The Moody Blues harmonize on the idea that “Thinking is the best way to travel” on their 1968 album In Search of the Lost Chord, itself a musical blueprint for transcendental journeying. Through sonics, these artists ventured happily into the transformative aspects of the Further. Among true believers, “the Further” is also called Liṅga Śarīra, Akasha, and prana. But it’s probably best known as the astral plane, a shallow tag in itself.

“The term ‘astral plane’ is a poetic description, at best, or more accurately a misnomer,” says Zeena, a Tibetan tantric Buddhist yogini, and iconic occult authority and artist. “When our consciousness pierces the veil of our ordinary, everyday scope of perception, there are infinite other realities one might experience, not just one ‘astral plane.’”

In Insidious, the paranormal hunting psychic Elise explains that Dalton is a “traveler,” who was born with the ability to pierce that veil.

“Everybody possesses the potential for astral projection,” Zeena says. “It’s a natural part of being human, just as many other metaphysical or paranormal experiences can naturally occur. But the ability to actualize it is relatively rare, and the effects from the occurrences vary greatly depending on many factors.”

Rebecca Halladay, an occult writer, scholar, and lifelong practitioner and witch, describes astral projection as “working on the Inner Planes of consciousness. In terms of ‘dimensions,’ this would be considered [fifth-dimensional] or above. Journeying is work within the physical, Earthly realm, which is [three-dimensional].”

Certain practices are believed to bridge these dimensions.

“Astral projection during deep states of unconsciousness like sleeping, fainting, or coma, could be achieved by a master of such techniques,” Zeena says. “For one who’s trained most of their life in the esoteric method of willed astral projection, and has become highly skilled in the ability to focus the mind under all circumstances, then deep states of unconsciousness wouldn’t impede their ability.”

The cinematic spiritualist doesn’t believe Dalton fell into a coma because he slipped off a ladder in a creepy attic. Elise believes the boy, being only a child, couldn’t tell the astral projection from a dream and had no fear about going too far.

“The Further looks like your surroundings, but a different lighting shade of it,” says Emi Rose, a psychotherapist and founder of Paragon Solstice. “You can see yourself.”

Rose finds that “Insidious depicts the astral plane in similar levels. It is similar in respect to the idea of a ‘physical’ mirror image of your waking life. Your surroundings around you as you sleep are remarkably similar. The difference is the state of consciousness you are now in can shape and change that experience that exists out of time and space.”

Because of the familiarity and relative comfort of these projected surroundings, Dalton gets lost in his adventures, leaving only a lifeless body behind. Elise, a veteran soul-traveler herself in the movie, is ever mindful of the dangers.

It all amounts to a very literal translation of eastern philosophical contemplations. The Buddhist meditation practice Maraṇasati is constant remembering that death can strike at any time. Thukdam is a Buddhist phenomenon in which a realized master’s consciousness remains in the body despite physical death. While this isn’t what is happening with the young Dalton, he is plugged into medical sensors which, during at least one frightening pop-up, flatline.

Practitioners and researchers are divided on whether it is possible to slip away and die during astral travel.

“There is a risk that could happen if done incorrectly,” Zeena tells us. Kristna Saikia, who is a metaphysics and meditation teacher and filmmaker, as well as a fellow astral travel facilitator, disagrees.

“No one dies in Astral travel,” Saikia says “There is a silver cord which is always connected with our etheric body. When you astral travel, you are always aware of what is happening in the earthly dimension with your body. It’s an intentional out-of-body experience. You can come back to your physical body whenever you decide.”

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In Wan’s film, tormented souls vie against demonic forces for the chance to possess Dalton. Possession is a horror film mainstay, and Insidious offers an interesting alternative arc to the usual spectral evictions enforced by Hollywood. But is it possible for an entity to take over a body during an astral trip?

“If done incorrectly, yes,” Zeena tells us. It is also something which can be done with intent. “In ceremonial magic, this is the entire purpose of entering the Inner Planes,” says Halladay. “During the Rite of Isis, the Priestess goes into the Inner Planes to invoke the Goddess Isis to bring her into the Earthly realm. Now can an entity ‘possess’ a physical being while on the planes? I would have to say it is absolutely possible.”

It turns out Dalton isn’t the only traveler in the Insidious family. He gets it from his father, who was terrorized by the spirit of an old woman during his childhood. Josh suppressed the memory, but Elise opens old wounds and new ones for the patriarch. She hypnotizes Josh, triggering his long-resting phantasmal dislocation, and sends him into the Further to find his son and bring him back.

Zeena confirms people can be guided through the experience, but insists “it’s a very delicate process requiring a qualified teacher from reputable metaphysical lineages that specialize in that. And even then, astral projection, or directing one’s consciousness, is not the main goal, but rather a way to gauge preparedness for more advanced training on the path toward spiritual enlightenment. When done improperly, the results of attempting astral projection simply for experimentation, entertainment, or curiosity can be disastrous.”

The film presents a cinematically dark alternative to the physical plane, a netherworld of unlocked doors and an overarching feeling of dread. Insidious doesn’t imply the Further is Hell, but it does look like one of the many highways AC/DC bypassed.

“They gave the darker energies too much power in the movie,” says Emi Rose. “In the astral plane, we always have a balanced choice to engage on a subconscious or conscious level. On a conscious level you can power your will, create scenarios.”

Josh’s first encounter in the Further is with the Crying Woman, not the most inviting of hosts. Citizens in Insidious’ cinematic spectral realm include the spirits of a family doomed to relive their violent deaths on a spectral loop; a long-haired, leather jacketed ghoul with a sex-fiend tongue; and a mischievous little boy. At its center is the Lipstick-Face Demon. It is tall with horns, pointed ears, snake-eyes, spidery fingers, and hooves for feet. Its skin is black as the night sky, its eyes are blacker holes.

“When one has a mind-expanding experience through any number of means, whether astral projection, meditation, or psychedelics, one encounters infinite types of beings,” Zeena says. “Recently deceased beings; beings we knew in a former incarnation but recognize in their new reincarnated state; celestial beings; demons and hell beings; mythological or magical beings; Buddhas and Bodhisattvas; Gods and demigods.” They’re all among the usual suspects.

But what you encounter is also contingent on who you call. “It all depends on the law of polarity,” Saikia says. “If you project fear, you will encounter energy vampires and evil entities.”

Halladay agrees that there are other entities in the astral planes, but says “I have never personally met other travelers, only those I have astralled with.”

The Red-Faced Demon never speaks in the film. It has, however, spoken with Josh’s mother, Lorraine (Barbara Hershey), in her dreams, which also appear to be of a special class: lucid dreaming.

“Astral traveling is a combination of Insidious and Inception,” quips Emi Rose. Inception is technically about lucid dreaming, Leonardo DiCaprio’s character Dom is technically-aided to enter dreams to steal information or implant ideas. It is often mistaken for astral travel, but not usually weaponized in the way that film presents it. Reddit’s rogue “Astral Army” community claims they combine astral travel and remote viewing to post out-of-body surveillance reports on popular conspiracy theory obsessions like Area 51.

The different practices are often mistakenly considered interchangeable, but are quite different. 

“With astral projection, one is sending one’s consciousness–either in part or fully–away from their body to a designated place or realm, in this world or others, for a particular purpose,” Zeena explains. “Remote viewing is when consciousness remains in the body but one can view anywhere else from afar. These two phenomena are also different from the involuntary experience colloquially known as OBE (out of body experiences), which usually spontaneously occurs in conjunction with trauma, near death experiences, or extreme stressors or ecstasy.”

In the overall arc of the Insidious franchise, the Further is much vaster than originally imagined, and the source and tool of mystical workings.

“There is a difference between Occultist practices and some, though not all, Esoteric Traditions,” says Halladay. “Occultists, past and present, generally accept astral projection as a regular part of their practice. Eurocentric pagan traditions do not make it a part of their regular practice.”

Though a fan of the film, Rose thought “Insidious focused too much on the shadow side of the astral plane. The movie portrayed the astral world as a scary dark place with only negative entities waiting to take over your body. So many more things occur in our dream world that we can conceive beyond bad scenarios. It is where we can conduct unfinished business, live out fantasies, replay or create scenarios, and travel to places we cannot do in our waking life.”

Late 18th century occult orders Golden Dawn and the Theosophists believed they could journey to other worlds, heavens and hells, and astrological spheres through etheric travel. In the 1999 book, Astral Dynamics, Robert Bruce calls it the “Real Time Zone,” and says it is the non-physical dimension-level closest to the physical. The New Age movement actively promotes the brighter, more enlightening aspects of the Further, to the point where the practice is on the precipice of mainstream thought.

Insidious isn’t the first film to venture beyond physical realms, but its ongoing franchise is proof the inner universe is expanding.

Insidious is streaming on Netflix now.

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[arigatouiris]

red right hand // t.h — [01]

pairing: 1920s mob!tom holland x f!reader

warnings: swearing, violence, sexual references, mafia au!, mentions of ptsd, trauma, anxiety attacks, a dash of sexism, angst, slow burn, alcohol and smoking mentioned

word count: 2013

a/n: heavily inspired from this show i’ve been watching, the peaky blinders. it’s been forever since my last update, but i will try and make it faster than before. the story won’t follow the plotline of the peaky blinders, but a fair amount will intersect. 

if you want to be on the taglist, just send an ask or drop a reply~

One. A Slave

▾

Thomas Holland was currently focused on turning his business around. 

There was nothing in the world more important to him than his family, and with what his father had left behind, Tom knew that he could turn things legal—and when that would happen, there wouldn’t be a single power in all of London that could stop him or his family from being the way they are.

Some would say to turn honest, especially after leading an entire life full of crime, is a dangerous task. It wasn’t as if Tom knew what being honest meant because even before the war, Tom’s life was tainted with the illegal. But, when he thought of his siblings, especially his youngest sibling Patrick, who hadn’t seen war or anything illegal in his life, his heart ached. There were a few things Tom was known for, all bad things, but the one good thing he believed was that Tom Holland knew how to love his family. That aching gentleness was still in him, tainted with the brokenness that came with being a man of war. Harry and Sam were both tainted as well, but none so far as Tom was. Tom was not just burdened with the war but being vulnerable was never a choice for the head of the Londoners.

He knew though—he knew that the coppers were after him. He knew that they would do everything in their power to find something bad off him and put him to death; he knew that if he were caught before turning legal, there was no turning back. He and his entire family would go to jail, hanged for the people that they were. From the people, they were running away from being.

However, that night was a night of celebration.

He had finally discovered something that could push his entire family into being legal again—a power move that would help him pay off his legal rights. He knew it was a long shot, but there was only one way and this was it. However, even the slightest bit of interference from the police would mean terrible consequences.

Except for Sam, no one in his family knew about the guns and he knew what his mother’s immediate response would be. It was police business, there was no need for the Londoners to get involved. Nikki was always more careful than Tom, but Tom was known to be far too risky than the regular chap. But, that night, something else caught Tom’s eye just as he was making an announcement.

A new barmaid.

She barely caught his eye, but it was when he walked in on her singing did things turn around. He stopped her, obviously not wanting any sort of reminder of war—songs being one of them, and he wondered why Harry hired her of all people. She was decent in the eye and didn’t look like she was from around the area. She would get eaten alive.

Women like her around these parts were only looking for trouble.

   “Who’re you?” Tom’s voice stopped the music instantly, however, the lady’s sharp (e/c) eyes stared back at him, fearlessly.

She said nothing, and neither did her gaze back down. Tom nearly felt his heart drift in a slight angle. It was strange.

   “Right, that’s (y/n), she’s our new barmaid,” Harry said, slurring already.

   “Who told you you could sing?”

(y/n) blinked once before replying strongly, “Back in my hometown, people would drop their glasses at the sound of a song. It’s needed around these parts.”

   “And you get to decide that, do ya?” Tom replied curtly, wanting to put her down, but she still did not back off.

It should have irked him. Made him angry. Yet, it didn’t.

She said nothing, and stepped back, heading back into the bar. The bar was once again filled with slow chattering, and Sam’s bellowing cleared the air of any remaining awkwardness. It wasn’t as if Tom hated music. It wasn’t as if Tom didn’t like songs. He didn’t want to be reminded of a time when there was no war yet. Because that only meant going back into one.

•

    “I have an offer to make and I don’t think the coppers are going to refuse.”

Nikki didn’t like when Tom was being vague. She liked answers that made sense in one sentence or no answer at all. Of course, she couldn’t kill her son so she had to make him spit it out. She knew it was all bullshit and when Tom was hiding something, he was hiding something big. It was better off for the entire family if one more person knew what the hell Tom was up to.

Nikki walked over to Tom after he had sent (y/n) inside and grabbed his arm. Tom, already a bit tipsy at this point, got up while the others started to laugh, knowing he was going to get an earful from his mother. Nikki wasn’t one to yell, she would merely just say sharp words that could pierce stone and that was one of Tom’s main weaknesses. The two of them walked over to the other room, when Nikki shut the door, blocking the view from everyone.

    “What have you done?”

For a second, Tom wondered if Sam had bailed on him and told their mother. But, he knew he would trust his brother with his life and that there was no possibility.

    “I really don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Nikki rolled her eyes, “Come on, boy. I raised you. I know every single expression of yours by heart. There’s no need to lie to me because I know there’s a lie there. What are you planning and what are you going to put our family through?”

Tom breathed in, not really happy with Nikki’s interference.

    “I’ve found guns, mum,” Nikki looked confused, “Guns of the army. Seven cartons full of AKs.”

Her eyes widened, “Thomas Holland, tell me you put them back. Tell me you have nothing to do with them.”

His silence was the answer. Nikki slapped Tom’s arm four times before he shushed her, calming her down. He looked into her eyes and forced her to do the same.

    “Mum, do you trust me?”

Oh, the problem was that she did trust him. She trusted him a bit more than she trusted the other boys (something she knew a mother shouldn’t do, but it was entirely because of Tom’s nature did she have no choice in the matter). She trusted him more than she trusted herself and that was indeed a problem.

    “Tom, you said we’re going legal. Is that a lie?”

He shook his head, “No. No, it’s not. We are going legal and the guns are going to play a big part in this. I’m not going to use them, I’m not going to sell them, I’m ultimately going to give them back to the coppers, but there’s only something that we need in return for keeping them safe,” Tom smiled a bit before saying, “Only one small obstacle we and the police need removing.”

Nikki didn’t understand all of it right away, but with the way Tom was assuring her, she knew she would let it slide for now.

    “What if there’s a spy? The coppers are keen on not letting gangs like us have the last laugh.”

Tom chuckled before kissing his mother on the forehead, “No one can break down a Holland’s walls, mother. Not after the war.”

Perhaps that was where he was wrong. What the two of them were unaware of was that the room they were in was directly connected to the bar aisle. A certain barmaid, who knew nothing about being a barmaid, had listened to every word they said. She moved away quickly before anyone would notice her absence.

•

(y/n) wouldn’t lie but spying wasn’t her favorite thing in the world.

It was simply because she owed the head inspector a debt that she had agreed to do this. Her heart and mind were stone, there was nothing more she was afraid she was going to lose. Even if her life was on the line, and she knew that it was considering how the Londoners were ruthless with people who even attempted to betray them, she couldn’t really care. (y/n)’s one and only dearest possession was taken away from her, and what was left was merely a shell of who she used to be.

    “Good morning to you, (y/n),” She jumped on her toes, shocked by the sudden voice that appeared behind her.

She turned around slowly and came face to face with the man who was hellbent on bringing the Londoners down. Inspector Martin Hamilton—aged and full of cunning—he had never fought in any war previously, but the one he was fighting now was with the Hollands.

    “Do you have any news for me, (y/n)?” He asked, walking closer to her.

The two of them were in the London museum, filled with posh people who wouldn’t bat an eye at people like her. To the outside eye, Inspector Hamilton looked like her father, and their interaction seemed innocent. Nothing out of the ordinary.

    “I believe the Londoners have come across some guns.” She spoke, her voice quiet.

Hamilton’s eyes narrowed and his expression faltered. He didn’t expect too much from her, he certainly didn’t expect her to bring such news on the first day of her work. He stared at her before noticing her look and walk away, admiring some of the paintings in the room that they were currently in. He walked over to her and grabbed her arm before forcing her to look at him, a frown set on her face as she tried to comprehend what this sudden action meant.

    “What guns?”

She scoffed before pulling away from him, straightening her dress, “Guns belonging to the army. They were found a few days ago and are currently in possession of the Londoners. Thomas spoke of them himself, yesterday.”

    “He spoke of them to you?”

She gave him a look of disgust.

    “Inspector, I’ve gone there as a spy. And spies eavesdrop to the best of their abilities. Even Thomas is not a fool to speak of such things in front of a new barmaid, no less.”

    “Did he say where?” Hamilton asked, before walking a step closer to her, the personal space was broken.

She looked away before shaking her head, feeling feeble in her mind. A second later, he handed her something—her eyes widened a bit before looking at him with surprise.

It was a small gun, as small as her palm. He nodded once at her before noticing her flinch. She held the gun, examined it with her fingers and perhaps, it was then, did she realize the seriousness of the situation she was in. She couldn’t do what she wished with the gun, it was merely proof of her enslavement.

The relationship that the two of them shared was bitter from her end. Hamilton adored her, down to the bone, but there was nothing about him that gave her even the slightest bit of gratitude. The stories he would say about her father and the debt he owed to Hamilton for saving his life were merely stories in her head, stories that she was paying for. He had once saved her father who died only a year later, and yet, here she was doing something against her will.

    “(y/n),” He traced the back of his finger across her right cheek, ignoring how rotten her expression was, “You don’t have to do this.”

She knew it was a lie. She knew she was merely a pawn in his game, and a disposable one nonetheless. Yet, she played along because she had nothing to lose. And maybe, once this is over, once Thomas Holland and his family are put behind bars, she can go looking for something that would give her life meaning.

    “I know.”

She didn’t realize that those words had chained her.

▾

series taglist:

@cyrusandhiscollaredahirts @plaidamoosette @rachaeldonnaspiteri1 @tanya-diggory @myheartonthemove @watson-emma @souldancerr @tomsirishgirl @averyfosterthoughts​ @yourwonderbelle​ 

[songtoyou]

Chapter Three: Need The Sun To Break

Would You Call That Love

Pairing: Chris Evans x Raina Morrison (OC)

Rating: PG to PG-13 (Might be 18+ for some chapters)

Description: There was always that one person Chris Evans tended to turn to when he was not in a committed relationship, Raina Morrison. He could confide in her about things going on in his life that he did not feel comfortable talking to his family or close friends about. Chris and Raina were able to establish a way to openly communicate with one another, but also being respectful of the other’s time and needs. It was the only constant “relationship” he had, but without all the nonsense of trying to build a life together. A “friends with benefits” situation. However, what happens when Chris starts rethinking his “relationship” with Raina and if either are willing to pursue something more?

Chapter Rating: PG

Warnings: Mentions the death of a loved one.

Word Count: 3,161

Author’s Note: This chapter was tough, particularly the beginning, since it is very emotional. I hope this chapter provides a little bit more insight into who Raina is as a person. 

Feedback is always welcomed. If you want to be tagged, please let me know.

Sadly, I do not know Chris Evans or anyone in his family, and this is just a fictional take on his life. I do not permit this fic to be reposted on other platforms.  

Again, thanks to @southerngracela​ for the support.

*Note: Updated for edits on grammar and punctuation.

September 26, 2010

Returning to the home ground after their loss to the New York Jets, the New England Patriots were looking to rebound with a win against the Buffalo Bills. The Patriots were able to score a 7-yeard touchdown thanks to the star quarterback, Tom Brady. Anyone from New England loved Thomas Edward Patrick Brady Jr. He was their golden boy, despite not even being from the area. A west coaster who grew up in California could melt the hearts of any contemptuous New Englander. 

For Chris Evens, just saying the name ‘Tom Brady’ around him would result in him turning into a blushing schoolgirl. Tom brought pride back the Patriots with six Superbowl championships, nine Conference championships, and seventeen Division championships. For any New Englander, it was a feeling they were going to hold onto and cherish.

“Go…go…go…YES!!” Chris cheered as he got up from his couch to cheer Tom Brady’s second touchdown.

“What happened?” asked Scott as he rushed back from the kitchen when he heard Chris celebrating.

“Brady just scored a TD,” replied Chris.

“Fuck! I mean, yes! This is the last time I get up to get you a beer from the fridge. You get them yourselves from now on. Another commercial! Give me a break.” Scott scolded, taking his seat next to Chris on the couch. 

“The Pats need to win this. The team has already lost to the New York Giants and Jets. If they lose to the Bills, then Raina will never let me hear the end of it. She loves to gloat and rub it in my face whenever New York wins anything,” Chris shared as he took a sip of his beer.

Scott was aware of how Chris would essentially light up or blush whenever he talked about Raina. One had to pay attention, or it would not be visible, but Scott was a master at reading his brother’s body language and emotions.

“Speaking of our favorite chanteuse, you ever going to ask her out, or are you just going to pine for the rest of your life?” asked Scott bluntly. He was never one to beat around the bush when getting information, especially with his older brother. 

“What are you talking about? Raina and I are just friends. Good friends. Men and women can be friends. Just like Tara and me,” Chris defended strongly, “Why are you always pushing this narrative that I like Raina more than merely a friend?”

“Because you do. I can see it. Ma can see it. Shanna and Carly see it. Blind people see it,” Scott proceeded to enlighten Chris. 

Chris scoffed and reiterated as calmly as he could to Scott, “Okay, hold up. Do you guys just sit around and gossip about Raina and me? We are friends! That’s it! Nothing more, nothing less.” 

When the game returned from commercial break, Chris’s phone rang. He was inclined to ignore it, but when he saw it was from Raina, he answered.

“Speaking of Raina, here she is calling, probably to talk smack about the game. ‘Hello?’” Chris spoke into his phone happily. However, his mood changed when he heard sobs on the other end.

“Rai, what’s wrong? What happened?” Chris asked, concerned as he sat up straighter.

Scott perked up and asked, “What’s going on?”

Chris merely shrugged and asked Raina again, “What’s going on? Are you okay? Talk to me!”

When she was able to catch her breath, Raina cried out, “My mom died.”

“WHAT!” Chris yelled, jumping up from the couch and began pacing back and forth in his living room. Scott straightened up and watched Chris intently in the hope of finding out what is going on with their close friend.

“She died last night… in the hospital. It was a heart attack,” Raina choked out as best as she could while crying over the death of her mother, “We thought it was just the flu. She was feeling well all day…throwing up…not looking great. My dad called the paramedics, and when they got to the house, they told us that it was just the flu and that it would best not take mom in as she would only be waiting in the ER. But then we had to call them back an hour later because she got worse. She was barely incoherent and was drooling,” Raina stopped to catch her breath and sob but went on to share, “It was awful, Chris. You should have seen the look on the paramedics’ faces when they came back and saw her condition. You could see that they realized they fucked up. Oh my God! My mom is dead, Chris. What am I going to do?” 

Chris was at a loss for words. He had no idea what to say or what to do. All Chris could do was listen to her desperate sobs. It was not long before he felt tears begin to sting his eyes. Chris sat down at the dining room table, put his head in his free hand, and cried along with his best friend. 

July 24, 2019

“Only one more night to go. You excited, kid?” asked Jerry, Raina’s manager, as he sat on the couch in her dressing room. She was on break from rehearsals. 

“I go back and forth between wanting to throw-up to crying. I am not quite sure if it is crying out of joy or because I am so nervous,” she revealed honestly.

“What do you have to be nervous about? You have done this show a bunch of times. You have gotten raved reviews from the workshops and the previews. You are going to kill it,” said Jerry and continued with, “When are you going to realize that you are one of the best performers out of your peers? Hell, Variety magazine referred to you as the ‘the best vocalist of her generation.’ That is a huge praise. You wouldn’t have come this far if people thought you didn’t have what people call ‘it.’ You’re no flash in the pan, kid.”

“Thank you, Jerry. I love you; you know that. I am so lucky to have you in my corner,” Raina replied with a smile, but then asked, “What am I going to do when you leave me, though? Who am I going to get to watch out for me?”

“That is not something you have to worry about today. I am not going anywhere, Raina. You talk to your dad lately?”

“Uh…yeah. He’s doing alright,” Raina said as she sat down next to Jerry on the couch and shared that her dad was coming to see the show.

“Wow! No offense, but I am surprised he is leaving Long Island to come to see the show.”

“You and me both. Dad is making a trip the week of his birthday in August. I think I am going to ask Chris to join, if he can, that is. He and my dad have always gotten along, and I am sure both would be happy to get to see each other….and why are you giving me that look, Jerry?” asked Raina curiously.

Jerry just chuckled and shook his head, “Nothing, little one. I am simply happy that you and Chris have managed to stay friends for this long. Just friends, right?”

Crossing her arms over her chest, Raina responded, “Just come out and say what you want to say, Jerry. Lay it on me. Don’t hold back now.”

“Okay. Have you ever thought about being more than friends with Chris?”

Taking a deep breath in and letting out, Raina contemplated her thoughts about Chris. Had she ever thought about being more than friends with Chris? Technically, they were more than friends. They started a friend with benefits relationship five years ago, but no one knew about it, especially people in their inner circles. Their relationship was just for them without the fear of anyone’s judgment and scrutiny.

She got a taste of that when she dated Tom Hiddleston back in 2016. Neither fully comprehended how much their coupling would turn their worlds upside down. The media frenzy was something she and Tom had never experienced. For some reason, people could not wrap their heads around the notion that this English actor who was posh and well-educated would date a songstress from New York who had a reputation of being reserved and reclusive. It did not help when both fandoms got involved in the mix. Tom’s fans were brutal in their critiques of Raina. If they were not ragging on her clothes, hair, or overall looks, they were ragging on her music or personality. Social media allowed people to smear Raina’s reputation to the extreme. 

None of this she blamed on Tom as there was not much she could do. She knew he did not condone the horrid behavior of some of his fans. However, there was a small part where Raina wished he said something to get them to back off during that time. It was an eye-opening experience for Raina in certain areas but mostly left her confused about what she wanted in a partner. 

With Chris, their friendship grew naturally. It was as if the universe intervened and made sure these two individuals were important fixtures in each other’s lives.

“Jerry, you know better than anyone that if you find a real friend in this business, then you hold on to them. That is all I am going to say on this matter.”

Jerry put his hands up in surrender, “Fair enough. I trust you know what you are doing, kid.”

Later that night, while Raina was lounging on her couch in her penthouse, she went through the text exchange she had with Chris throughout the day. 

1:30 p.m.

Chris: We’ve landed. After we get our bags, we’re going to head to the hotel. 

2:45 p.m.

Raina: Hey, been super busy with interviews and last-minute rehearsals this morning and afternoon. Glad you guys made it safely. Where are you guys staying?

Chris: The Frederick Hotel.

Raina: That is a nice hotel. Not far from where I live too. Only a few blocks away from each other. Do you all want to come over for a nightcap?

Chris: Shouldn’t you be resting up for tomorrow?

Raina: Please, no amount of rest will help ease my worries. Murphy’s Law, remember. If anything can go wrong, it will go wrong. I guess I just have to accept that some things are out of my control. 

Chris: You got nothing to worry about.

Raina. I have to get back to rehearsals. Talk to you later. Bye.

6:30 p.m.

Chris: You home yet?

Raina: Yeah. What are you guys up to?

Chris: Getting ready to head out to dinner at Serafina. Do you want to come along to join us?

Raina: Thanks, but not tonight. It’d be best for me to take it easy for the rest of the night.

Chris: Gotcha. Do you mind if I stop by later? 

Raina: If you plan on stopping by, then can you please bring me some takeout please?

Chris: What do you want?

By eight o’clock, Chris was sitting on Raina’s couch scrolling through Netflix while she ate the minestrone he brought from the restaurant. 

“Goddamn, this soup is good. What did you eat?” Raina asked as she continued to slurp her soup.

“Cacio e Pepe. Then the three of us split dessert. Well, mom and Scott ate most of it. You know I’m not a dessert person,” informed Chris and continued with, “What do you want to watch and please don’t say Gilmore Girls. You know I can’t stand that show.”

“Don’t hate on Gilmore Girls.”

“Uh…you hate on Gilmore Girls all the time. If you can’t stand them so much, then why do you watch it?” asked Chris.

“Because, despite all of its flaws, the show has a lot of heart. No, don’t pick Schitt’s Creek. You haven’t seen it yet, and we need to do a proper marathon viewing party. No, not Friends or The Office. I’m not in the mood to watch Parks and Recreation. Ooh, Derry Girls! Pick that one,” ordered Raina.

When Raina finished her dinner, she got up to put her bowl in the kitchen sink and asked Chris if he wanted something to drink. 

“Just water.”

Opening the fridge to retrieve two bottles of water, she saw the gift she got from Chris nestled on the top shelf. It brought a smile to her face seeing the gift box. While she did open the box to see what was inside, she had yet to open the fortune cookie.

“Thanks for the gift. The fortune cookie looks good. I can’t wait to eat it,” said Raina as he handed Chris his bottled water.

He took the water from and replied,” Oh, you haven’t opened the fortune yet?”

“Nah, I was gonna wait until you got here.”

The message that Chris included in the gift was still very much on his mind. He was continually wondering how Raina would perceive it. Would she be happy? Mad? Upset? It was driving him mad, not knowing.

“Maybe you should open it now?” Chris suggested hesitantly. 

“Yeah, sure. Can you get it? I’m going to brush my teeth. I need to get the minestrone taste out of my mouth.”

Raina sprinted from the couch to the stairs as Chris slowly stood up from the sofa. He continued his slow pace to the kitchen and opened the fridge to take out the top shelf’s gift box. As Chris stared at the box, he realized that the content of what was inside could change his relationship with Raina forever. It could bring them closer or put distance between them.

“All you have to do is be honest. Just be honest about your feelings. Even if Raina doesn’t feel the same way, she won’t drop you as friends. You mean a lot to her, and she values her friendship with you,” the voice in Chris’s head reassured. 

The sound of excited clapping broke Chris out of his thoughts, and he looked up to see Raina skipping over to him happily. He pushed the box towards Raina, and she began opening it. She carefully pulled out the fortune cookie, which was wrapped in a clear plastic bag. Slowly opening the plastic, she pulled out the cookie and placed it on the clean counter. 

“Oh my God. It’s so pretty. A chocolate lover’s dream,” she admired and hugged Chris.

“You’re welcome, my little cookie monster.”

“I almost don’t want to ruin it.”

“Well, you going to have to see my message inside,” Chris told her.

“Oh right, there would be a message inside it. I was too amazed by its beauty that I forgot about that part,” said Raina and began to break the fortune cookie in half. 

Before she could read the message, Chris spoke up, “Raina, wait! Before you read that, just…” 

However, she proceeded to read the message before Chris get his words out. He could not breathe while she read and stared intently at her as he mouthed the words he wrote. 

Lips trembling and eyes watering from the tears about the form, Raina immediately hugged Chris. He was shocked at first but instantly hugged her back. 

When pulling back, she said, “Thank you. This is so sweet,” wiping the tears from her eyes, Raina continued, “I’m going to keep this forever. I’m going to frame it one of those fireproof picture frames, you know. Or the one that is used to hold the U.S. Constitution. I’m going to get one of those, and this will go in it.”

She went in for another hug and gave him a quick kiss on the lips. Raina took a piece of the fortune cookie and popped it into her mouth. “Alright, I’m going to put this in a safe place so that it won’t get ruined. I’ll be right back.”

 Chris stared at her retreating back and was left confused. That was not how he expected it to go down. “You were worried she’d be upset. She was happy. More than happy. But did she get the underlying meaning of his words?” Chris’s inner voice asked himself. 

The relationship between Chris and Raina was so blurred that she could not see a declaration of love when it was literal in front of her. However, Chris could not blame her for not being able to read between the lines. She had so much on her plate at the moment that maybe she was able to process his words. 

“Okay, I placed it in a clear file holder so nothing can spill on it,” said Raina when she came back into the kitchen area and asked Chris if he was okay when she saw a worrying look on his face. 

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m glad you liked your gift. You deserved it. I should start heading out. You need your rest for tomorrow, and I don’t want to keep you up.”

Raina was taken back by his sudden change in demeanor. She noticed he looked a little sad and defeated for some reason. “You don’t have to leave just yet. I mean we can still watch some TV and relax. You okay, Chris? She asked again.

“I’m good. Tired is all. It’s been a long day.”

Raina nodded and followed Chris to the front door. “Chris,” she spoke and looked at him. His ocean blue eyes were one of her favorite things about him. Often, she could find herself lost in staring at them. Reaching out the tenderly grab his face, she placed a kiss on his lips. It did not take long for Chris to reciprocate. He pulled Raina closer to wrap his arms around her. Opening her mouth to allow his tongue inside, she allowed Chris to take the lead. 

Raina slowly began to walk them both back over to the living area, but Chris proceeded to step back. 

“I should go. I don’t think it would be a good idea if we, we shouldn’t…not tonight,” Chris professed, although it killed him to turn her down. Chris wanted nothing more than to stay the night. 

Feeling a little defeated, Raina nodded and said, “Okay. I understand.”

Reaching for the door handle, Chris said, “I’ll see you tomorrow. Sleep tight.”

With a small smile on her face, Raina countered with, “See you tomorrow. Goodnight, Christopher.”

“Goodnight, Raina,” he said, but Raina could hear a hint of sadness in his voice, and she for the life of her could not understand why. 

When Chris finally left, Raina went back into the kitchen and put away the fortune cookie. 

“I love you too, Chris. More than you realize,” Raina said to herself. Once again, she could feel tears about to form. 

“It’s going to be a long and sleepless night,” she said to herself as she prepared to get ready for bed.

[autumnslance]

Not anon but I --5.25 SPOILERS-- would be interested to know your thoughts on the revelation about Midas being under Bahamut's control, especially with the context of trauma-altered memory. I've been pondering tinfoil about this reveal as some kind of subconscious & deeply ingrained coping mechanism for Cid to exonerate the memory of his father, even if a little bit... then again that might be my--FF7 SPOILERS--Cloud Strife brain cell talking.

Let me tell you what I wish I’d knownWhen I was young and dreamed of gloryYou have no controlWho lives, who dies, who tells your story-”History Has Its Eyes on You”, from Hamilton

In Stormblood, I connected George Washington’s song a lot to Gosetsu as he mentored Hien and the WoL through the Azim Steppe and Doma’s liberation, and then later in the patch content with the difficult decisions made in those story arcs.

In Shadowbringers, there’s a lot more emphasis on memory and stories, particularly in 5.2. So I’ve been thinking of that short but impactful song a lot more often lately, in regards to who has survived to tell the stories that makes heroes and villains of the characters. What perspective does the Wandering Minstrel--or Minstreling Wanderer--hear?

It starts with how since we arrived on the First, the stories of the Warriors of Light were twisted or lost, leaving the WoL and Cyella (and a few others among the fae and viis who remember) to try to retell them a hundred years later to reclaim the legacy of those five as the heroes they were, not the villains people have heard about. In 5.2, much emphasis is given tothe history of Archmage Tiuna, a hero of Ronka and past Warrior of Light. To the origins of the name for the “Isle of Ken” that hides Bismark’s presence, forgotten and unknown by most people, though the man lived just before the Flood. To the story of Minfilia’s rebirth over and over and what that meant for those girls, and the glimmer of hope they represented. To Gaia’s disjointed memories and lost past, choosing to look now to the future.

Of the Ascians own susceptibility to the vagaries of time and preference and some tempering, but mainly perhaps their own grief and anger as they look back on the halcyon days of Amaurot and show or tell us what their perspective--as the privileged leaders of their people, mind--recalls thousands of years later.

Over and over, the recurring theme of Shadowbringers is the choral line: Who lives who dies, who tells your story?

HOW do they tell your story? If they do, or can, at all?

In “Save the Queen” we learn about the memory crystals and another aspect of the Echo. Mikoto’s version of the Blessing lends credence to the various oracles and prophets Louisoix and Urianger studied. The relic chain also clarifies how the city introduction scenes in 1.0 worked, and the WoL’s interactions with/repair of Cid’s memories in 2.0 on the airship with the goggles. Here again, we go into our engineering pal’s mind, but this time in a controlled manner with guidance afforded by the crystal.

It’s terrifying in its implications and possibilities, as easily abused as it is helpful for dealing with trauma, which it seems is the main intention of the device and one’s Echo. Canonically, most people with the Echo naturally are written as people inclined to help others (even if they aren’t always very good at it, or go about it the right way, as we saw with Ysayle’s flailing efforts). Still, there’s an ambivalence to literally changing someone’s mind, though we try a few times in the duty to alter the memories--such as when soldiers are fighting rebels or cutting down civilians.

I had a friend watching me play for my reactions, and one that made him grin (I could hear it, Patrick) was when I got to the plaza with Dalamud overhead and “Answers” suddenly kicking in as the music track. The first barrier to getting to the end and finding out “the truth.” Cid lost his memory for five years after watching Dalamud fall and Bahamut rampage across the land. Altering the Lunar Transmitter was an emotional plot point in the Omega raids. It makes sense part of his nightmare would involve the satellite and the dragon.

There are a couple ways the reveal about Midas can go.

In Praetorium, Gaius alluded to Midas being tempered. It seems odd to have it “revealed” now, rather than “confirmed.” Except, do we really have it confirmed? We have Cid’s memory of his father acting strangely, disregarding scientific facts, shooting him--

--and maybe Cid needs an explanation for that. Maybe he latched onto Gaius’ insinuations in the Praetorium and his memories, already trying to protect him from the truth, used Gaius’ words to offer one last protection. “Your father shot you because he was tempered” and not because Midas was too far gone in his own obsession and loyalty, while young Cid was already wavering in how much he owed the empire, how much harm his inventions were causing across Ilsabard and Othard.

On the other hand, it’s often repeated the Echo shows the truth--not anyone’s perception or falsehood, but what really happened. Maybe, after summoning our own memories and inspiring our friend, after cutting through Cid’s self-defenses, we do, in fact find the truth in Gaius’ words: Midas nan Garlond was one of Bahamut’s first modern thralls. And that was a memory Cid didn’t want to remember, either, something just as hard to cope with as seeing his father on the other side of that smoking barrel. That no matter what, his father was lost, body and soul. Cid could never have saved him.

Either way is a very traumatizing experience and realization, and it’s no wonder his mind rebels so much we end up facing off against memories of Bahamut and Varis (to make up for never getting to fight him for reals cuz Zenos is a kill stealing lil--*cough*). There’s a lot of fascinating psychology here I am not qualified enough to go into further, but those are the two ways I see this particular story beat going.

History currently remembers one thing, but maybe Cid can still change the story, and his father will be remembered as another tragic victim of the Calamity, instead of one of its instigating villains. Maybe in a new story Midas can be redeemed and history will see things differently in a few years.

After all, one of Cid’s best friends is Jenomis--the playwright retelling the story of the Zodiac Braves and altering even the modern ending of that tale and what happened in Ivalice. Whose son wants to write about the Warrior of Light someday, to tell our story and determine how history will remember us. Meanwhile, young Azami is set to become Yotsuyu’s biographer, and Honoroit has already written about the adventures in the Sea of Clouds--a companion piece to the tale Edmont already told in Heavensward.

And in an alternate future that may or may not exist any longer, that history, that story, that memory, is the only glimmer of hope left.

As a writer and lover of stories, I think about these threads a lot through Stormblood and Shadowbringers.

[nabtime]

Hold My Broken Hands, Ignite My Burning Heart

1h27min/25 songs that make me think of Tododeku in different ways 

Fire - Diskopunk // Out of My League - Fitz and The Tantrums // Aawake at Night - halfalive // Bad Liar - Selena Gomez  // Collide - Howie Day // Falling For U - Peachy!, mxmtoon // Crush - Tessa Violet // Would You Be So Kind - dodie // Please Notice - Christian Leave // I See You - MISSIO // Talk Too Much - COIN // Tongue Tied - Grouplove // When the Day Met the Night - Panic! at the Disco // First Day of My Life - Bright Eyes // Home to You - Sigrid // Fall On Me - A Great Big World // Grow As We Go - Ben Platt // Two - Sleeping at Last // High Hope - Patrick Droney // Talk to Me - Cavetown // Sunkissed - khai dreams // I Do Adore - Mindy Gledhill // Pink in the Night - Mitski // Laundry Room - The Avett Brothers // Brand New Day - Kodaline 

explanations for song choice under the cut ! its looooong

Fire - “When I saw you a fire / Started in my heart / I looked at you again / Yeah, you've burned from the start” 

Every tododeku fic youve ever read has a moment like this or a moment similar. izuku has to light shouto on fire either metaphorically or literally. “It’s your power, isn’t it?” This song is for that. its about a spark that ignites between them, whatever the catalyst, and sets the world around them ablaze (wonder, gratitude, amazement, relief, an all-encompassing light and bubbly feeling that leaves them stunned and in love)

Out of My League -  “You were out of my league / Got my heartbeat racing / If I die, don't wake me / 'Cause you are more than just a dream”

both of these idiots, at one point or another, think that the other one is out of their league. Izuku is far too cute and personable and an over all sunshine beacon and obviously he is far too good of a person to ever be in Todoroki’s league and Todoroki is far too beautiful and composed and an over all competent badass to ever be in Midoriya’s league 

Aawake at Night -  “ Alone in a crowded room / My eyes will search for you / Abandoned by my company / I'll search for what's in front of me / And hope that I find something new”

a tribute to those fics where Midoriya and Todoroki meet at a party. where they lock eyes and everything begins from there bc damn if they hadn’t just spotted the hottest person theyd ever seen. its about those fics where theyre both awkward wallflowers finding solidarity in not wanting to be at this party that their friends dragged them and abandoned them in

Collide - “ I'm open, you're closed / Where I follow, you'll go / I worry I won't see your face / Light up again / Even the best fall down sometimes / Even the wrong words seem to rhyme / Out of the doubt that fills my mind / I somehow find / You and I collide”

what is this an early 20s comedy show that has its surprisingly deep/romantic subplot moments? absolutely and there’s noting you can do about it. its about Midoriya punching Todoroki with friendship and then showing him via the dekusquad how to be a person and that friendship slowly evolving into love. its about Midoriya being fumbling and awkward sometimes bc this is the first time hes ever had friends or a crush that he actually talks to?? on a regular basis?? and even though getting together is a clumsy mess they still come together

Bad Liar - “ Oh I'm tryin' /  Not to think about you /  With my feelings on fire / Guess I'm a bad liar “

Theyre gay and trying to repress their feelings and thankfully its not really working out for them. its about the boys trying so so hard to not be in love with the other for whatever reasons the fic has (he’s my best friend and i dont wanna ruin it, obviously he doesnt like me like that, my father would kill him, etc etc) and failing miserably. 

Falling For U - “ I didn't wanna believe my feelings for you / I didn't wanna believe that I could lose you / If I told you just how I felt “

Gay repression and mutual pining take 2 ! but also including That Moment when oh everything comes together and oh my goodness im in love ?? and Midoriya cant believe the world is crashing down around him and Todoroki has set himself on fire and theyre both so dense and suffering from so much emotional trauma but here they are, in love. 

Crush - “  You make it difficult to not overthink / And when I'm with you I turn all shades of pink, ah / I wanna touch you but don't wanna be weird / It's such a rush, I'm thinking wish you were here, ah-ahh “

doesnt matter when the fic is set, if theyre teenagers or adults, these boys are the epitome of puppy love crushes and blushes and fumbled awkward words and gestures and not quite knowing what to do with their feelings and theyre both so anxious about and its always such a relief to find out that its all mutual but still, having that crush is always like being hit over the head with affection

Would You Be So Kind - “ Oh would you be / So kind / As to fall in love with me, you see / I'm trying / I know you know that I like you / But that's not enough / So if you will / Please fall in love “

oooo its about that sweet sweet mutual pining that they both thing will forever remain unrequited and that yearning for the other to love just as much as them. its about the boys falling into daydreams about what it would be like if their feelings were mutual. its about that first fumbling confession maybe where its either todoroki being blunt or midoriya finally scraping together his courage and always always saying “its okay if you dont feel the same, we can forget this and still be friends, but i need you to know...” and its about hoping, hoping so much, that they wont stay friends and that maybe, if the other takes the chance, he’ll fall in love too (even tho he’s already there) its about skirting the edge of friendship and pushing boundaries into the romantic hoping that it sparks something (even tho it already has) its about fake dating with a crush and never demanding that the other not fall in love (bc maybe theres hope)

Please Notice - “ Do you know how in love with you / I am / Do you see how in love with you / I am / Every thing that you do, it makes my heart stop / Oh, it stops / And baby when you sleep, do you dream of me? “

its about that hope again. its about midoriya staying up so late at night overthinking everything hes ever done and wondering if todoroki is just humoring him bc his crush on the other is just so so obvious and it feels so awful to know that hes so obvious and todoroki is just playing along and he wonders if todoroki really knows how much he loves him. its about todoroki in his own room, worrying about the same thing. its about noticing the little things about each other. its about already knowing a whole host of secrets and knowing its okay to trust themselves to the other. its about midoriya noticing everything about todoroki and detailing all his little ticks and favorite things in his notebooks and hoping that todoroki notices just as many things about him, wanting the other to feel the same depth of feelings. its about todoroki becoming more and more emotionally aware (heroes can cry too) and noticing everything about midoriya and thinking hes just cataloging everything he’d need to take down a rival but do you really need to know all of someones different smiles in order to fight them?

I See You - “ I'm alone with you / You're alone with me / And I'm hoping that you will see yourself / Like I see you / Yes, I see you “

its about mutually loving each other even in the hard times, even in the sad times. its about that sweet sweet hurt/comfort that the both of them inevitably have to have bc of the trauma each of them have faced either in their childhood or together as heroes. its about being able to see through the masks that they both have whether it be a stoic one or a smile. its about hoping that the other will see their own inherent worth past their hurting and understand why they love them. its about hoping the other will see how much they love them 

Talk Too Much - “ You know I talk too much / Honey, come put your lips on mine and shut me up / We could blame it all on human nature / Stay cool, it's just a kiss / Oh, why you gotta be so talkative? / I talk too much, we talk too much “

a cute and silly song about midoriya being overly talkative bc hes a little chatterbox and we all know that todoroki loves it but sometimes it get a little frustrating when he wants kisses instead of the fifty-third rant about all mights golden age costume design (really todo it was a brilliantly done color scheme and- and the symbolism!) and maybe sometimes even midoriya would rather be kissing than talking too

Tongue Tied - “ I loved you then and I love you now / Oh yeah / Don't take me tongue tied / Don't wave no goodbye “

kinda debated about whether or not this one fit enough to keep but its a bop so it stays. its mostly the tongue tied part of the lyrics that apply bc both the boys get a little mixed up and tongue tied when it comes to talking to each other when theyre in love and crushing hard ( mostly midoriya but todoroki too) 

When the Day Met the Night - “  When the moon fell in love with the sun / All was golden in the sky / All was golden when the day met the night “

do i really need to day more than sun and moon motif tododeku? its about izuku bringing warmth back to shoutos life and shouto being a steady gentle presence for izuku. its about izuku being able to light up a room and shouto being full of radiant grace and the two coming together as opposites in harmony 

First Day of My Life - “  Yours was the first face that I saw / I think I was blind before I met you / And I don't know where I am, I don't know where I've been / But I know where I want to go / And so I'd thought I'd let you know / Yeah, these things take forever, I especially am slow / But I realized that I need you / And I wondered if I could come home “

we’re getting into the really mushy gushy songs that make me sigh like a lovelorn maiden or something. i love this one for tododeku especially with the sports festival in mind as a sort of awakening. like shouto had only just realized what it was like to fully live for himself bc of izuku. izuku really opened up a path for him and guided him out of his misery into a brand new life full of acceptance and love. and shouto was there to return that love tenfold to izuku who hadnt really ever felt such devotion before. its about finally realizing that they can be so good together. its about wanting to come home to each other 

Home to You - “  But I see the world so different now / But there's a place by the sea and that's my town / When I don't know what to say / When I don't know what to do / There's a room I need to sit in / Surrounded by my favorite view / When I need a hand to hold / Someone to tell the truth / Would it be okay if I came home to you? “

One of my favorite ooey gooey songs about coming home and finding solace in another, which is just so perfect for tododeku. i love it when shouto feels like izuku is his home. that hes never felt like he truly belonged anywhere before he started belonging in izukus arms, holding his hand, and loving him. i feel like they would be good for settling each others doubts and fears. izuku worries that hes not good enough, that he needs to do more in whatever hes doing, that he will once again be found useless. but shouto is no nonsense enough to tell him straight that hes enough, hes wonderful, and already does so so much that its astounding and izuku cant help but to believe him. and when shouto starts to think hes like his father too much in the wrong way, starting to doubt is path in life, or thinks that his trauma makes him too difficult to deal with. but izuku is far too open and loving and shouto knows hes far too good to ever let shouto be what he fears most and izuku is there to remind him of all the good things hes done to earn that love. its about both of them being emotionally repressed in different ways and not knowing what to do or what to say but finding a way to communicate with each other anyway. 

Fall On Me - “  Fly like a cannonball straight to my soul / Tear me to pieces and make me feel whole / I'm willing to fight for it / To feel something new / To know what it's like to be sharing a space with you “

there can be a lot of challenges for the boys depending on the setting their relationship takes place in; shouto’s father always plays a role, kacchans attitude whether a constant interference or a ghost of izuku’s past, acceptance from the outside world, acceptance from friends and family, power imbalance (shoutos a prince and izukus a servant/knight/random adventurer) and a whole host of fic specific issues. this is about falling in love with each other despite them all, this is about begging each other to fall despite the dangers, this is about fighting to be together anyway. this is about finding an impossible love that shocks your soul and embracing it with all your heart.  

Grow As We Go - “  I don't know who we'll become / I can't promise it's not written in the stars / But I believe that when it's done / We're gonna see that it was better / That we grew up together / Tell me you don't wanna leave / 'Cause if change is what you need / You can change right next to me / When you're high, I'll take the lows / You can ebb and I can flow / We'll take it slow / And grow as we go “

you know some of those fics that hurt good bc mostly izuku but sometimes also shouto decide that their hero careers need to come first and that having a relationship would only interfere with that despite the fact that they love each other a lot? this is the song that plays when they realize that’s not true and come together and decide to be together anyway and that theyll be stronger for it. its about growing together as a couple as well as separately and still loving each other even through the changes. its about rising through the ranks together. learning about the world, together. and its about taking on any challenge thrown at them. together. growing, changing, loving.

Two - “  I know exactly how the rule goes / Put my mask on first / No, I don't want to talk about myself / Tell me where it hurts / I just want to build you up, build you up / 'Til you're good as new / And maybe one day I will get around to fixing myself too / Like a force to be reckoned with / A mighty ocean or a gentle kiss / I will love you with every single thing I have / Like a tidal wave, I'll make a mess / Or calm waters, if that serves you best / I will love you without any strings attached “

listen listen this song is so so so good for tododeku like look at those lyrics i just wanna cry about it. its about highlighting the flaws that can happen in their relationship when theyre both trying to fix the other more than to help themselves (especially izuku like baby boy please) its about making the promise to love each other unconditionally bc neither have really had that before outside of their moms? (and shoutos sibs) love without strings attached (doesnt matter if you were quirkless, doesnt matter if youre not the number one hero, doesnt matter that youve been through so much trauma ill help you and love you anyway) both of them striving to be the best fit for the other either a tidal wave or calm waters, eaither righteous fury or gentle love and its about just being so so thankful that they love each other even through the hard times

High Hope - “  Know you're coming from a bad place / Honey, I was there just yesterday / So I know the time it's gonna take / For you to feel like you again / And I'll be here if you need me / If you don't, just know / I've got a high, high, high, high hope “

this about past trauma and shared trauma and healing both on their own and together and knowing their relationship can weather through it all. this is about izuku comforting shouto through everything about his father and his family and the feelings that dredge up when someone asks about endeavor and its about shouto helping izuku through his complicated relationship with katsuki and how he flinches when a villain says his hero name in just the wrong tone. its about izuku covering shoutos scar with kisses and its about shouto tracing his fingers along the scar tissue on izukus hands. its about being patient and waiting and helping each other through times that feel like just too much to handle. 

Talk to Me - “ You don't have to be a hero to save the world / You don't have to be a prodigy to be unique / You don't have to know what to say or what to think / You don't have to be anybody you can never be / That's alright, let it out, talk to me “

its about both of them living up to the high expectations placed on their shoulders and telling each other that theyre enough. that izuku doesnt have to be the next symbol of peace exactly like all might. that shouto doesnt have to be the number one hero exactly like his father. its about encouraging each other to talk even though their both bad at it; izuku mumbles and stutters and takes forever to get to the point and shouto takes a long time to say what hes thinking and form it all into words and sometimes he still cant find the right ones. but shouto is patient and so is izuku.  

Sunkissed - “  So slowly a sunlit dream pulls me out of sleep / Feel the morning through the blinds / I turn my head to meet your sunkissed face / In this quite place I can give you all my time “

the ooiest and gooiest and again with all the sunlight that always used as a lovely motif. izuku is always lit up like the sun and shoutos hair always catches the light just so. its about finding each other and falling into a home and comfort together and being disgustingly in love with each other. its about the comfort that comes after the hurt and being happy and being at peace with each other

I Do Adore - “ When you're near, I hide my blushing face / And trip on my shoelaces / Grace just isn't my forté / But it brings me to my knees when you say / Hello, how are you, my darling, today? / I fall into a pile on the floor / Puppy love is hard to ignore / When every little thing you do, I do adore  “

ah another cute to emphasize that both the boys are dorks and sometimes even when theyve established that they like each other they cant help but combust into blushing messes. its about how sometimes shouto still lights himself on fire when izuku has a rare bout of confidence and really zuku that was very bold and my heart cant take it and about how shouto can still shock izuku speechless with a few well timed kisses 

Pink in the Night - “  I could stare at your back all day / And I know I've kissed you before, but / I didn't do it right / Can I try again, try again, try again / Try again, and again, and again “

izukus got a nice strong back and so does shouto (theyre heroes of course they cut a nice figure) and sometimes shouto gets lost in daydreams and sometimes izuku does too and its about the soft soft kisses that neither can get enough of. its about the yearning despite finding each other bc sometimes it doesnt feel real and ya gotta kiss again and again just to make sure and honestly its a mitski song what more to you want from me

Laundry Room - “ Don't push me out / Just a little longer / Stall your mother / Disregard your father's words / Close the laundry door / Tiptoe across the floor / Keep your clothes on / I've got all that I can take / Teach me how to use / The love that people say you made “

theres just so many fics about laundry? what makes doing laundry together so intimate? sharing detergent and smelling like each others clothes? showing a part of yourself to someone else? anyway, its about love and being home with each other and wishing the love will last. its about sometimes things dont end so well and you want to turn back time and sometimes izuku leaves and sometimes shouto runs but most times one or the other comes back and it all hurts but the love again is worth it

Brand New Day - “ I'll be flicking stones at your window / I'll be waiting outside 'til you're ready to go / Won't you come down? Come away with me / Think of all the places we could be / I'll be waiting, waiting on a brand new day  “

its about running away together or just traveling the word together or going out on a journey (always together) its about izuku wanting to go to the states for hero work or about prince shouto needing to complete a quest to be free of his father and its about izuku not wanting to go without shouto and about prince shouto only loving the journey after picking up a stray green-haired adventurer. its about beginning something new together, its about ending one chapter and starting another. 

oh tha t took soooooo long . ..  anyway ! hope you enjoyed !!!

[in-tua-deep]

Au where Reggie finds a way to turn the power-suppressing stuff in Vanya’s pills into a serum or something to use as a punishment for the others? Like if Five decides to do something to take the attention off of his siblings again (I love that idea which I’m pretty sure you came up with) and as a punishment Reggie uses that for a while? Or maybe just to keep them from escaping punishment? Or if a villain got their hands on the serum to use against them?

coming back up here after writing and a general disclaimer because somehow i managed to twist this prompt into badass Vanya and exploring Five’s influence on Vanya in this au it’s wild okay but what I wrote - 

OKAY oh man this is Awful and i hate it you have a wonderful evil mind

here’s the thing: there’s nothing that scares a superpowered person more than being powerless. I have atla on my mind thanks to my last couple of posts but like, take for example when the gaang was on the run from Azula in her tank - she had Ty Lee with her, a chiblocker, who scared the pants off of them precisely because she could take away their bending, their power. 

And Reggie having something he could take away their power with?? oof. Their power is like,,, another limb to them. Something inherent and natural. Cutting them off from their power is to carve out a piece of themselves - Vanya was essentially drugged her entire life because to cut off her power he had to cut off her emotions like daMN

so Reggie has this serum that can temporarily make the kids what they fear most: it can make them ordinary

(Vanya is held up as an example all their lives about what happens if you’re ordinary, if they aren’t good enough, Vanya is at the bottom of the pecking order and scrapes by for survival in their house ignored and for the most part alone. All of the siblings fear sharing her fate)

the only one who would welcome it are Klaus and Ben, who have always feared their own powers. Klaus is the one Reginald would never give it to, because when all else fails you can be assured that he will never make life easy for Klaus. Ben probably has only had it used sparingly, if Reginald was afraid that Ben was out of control or about to injure/kill one of his siblings.

The others though? Terrified. Luther without his strength, Diego without his supernatural ability to curve knives, Three without her rumors, and Five without his jumps - and I honestly think Five would be the most frightened of all

Five is the one we see who uses his powers the most in the show I believe. He doesn’t just use it in combat situations like his siblings, but in normal situations as well. His is not a combat power. 

Reginald has often framed punishment as training, and so he still does it. He takes their powers and dumps them in a situation and he says get out. survive. you can’t always rely on your powers. and the siblings have to learn to get along without them

Luther makes sure that his body is strong with or without his powers - he can’t carry the same weights as he could with his powers of course but he can do enough that he doesn’t feel completely helpless. Diego learns to use his knives and not just throw them, learns how to slash and turn his body into a weapon whether he has projectiles or not - and when he’s without his power he hones his aim regardless. He can’t curve the knives, but he can still throw straight on and that isn’t nothing. Allison learns to manipulate without her rumors, learns how to look at people with such big sad eyes with just a hint of tears and lie through her teeth, learns how to turn people against one another using nothing but her words.

And Five? Five learns to escape, learns how to twist and pop his thumb from its socket to maneuver handcuffs from his wrists and how to snap zipties and use every object in the room as a weapon and a tool. Five is scrappy, he doesn’t go down easily. 

It would change them. It would change all of them. Luther is so rarely punished that it hardly matters, but the threat looms over his head nonetheless and it makes him wary of Reginald in a way that show!Luther is almost incapable of being.

Diego on the other hand is probably more sure of himself, more careful with his abilities. He knows exactly what his body is capable of and what he demands of it, and he’s maybe a little more hostile to Vanya. Because he knows what it is to be powerless, and he thinks she has no excuse for not being useful. 

Allison doesn’t use her powers as much to get what she wants in life, and in fact almost takes a ruthless sort of joy in figuring out just how far she can push without her powers. It’s a safety net for her, but she doesn’t jump to it like she did in the show’s past. Maybe this Allison didn’t rumor her daughter, she instead knew exactly what to say to distract Claire and snap her out of tantrums. She and Patrick probably still divorced, but she probably has partial custody. On the other hand, she doesn’t have the same repulsion towards her powers show!Allison does either and is quicker to use it when she deems necessary and words fail her. (“I heard a rumor,” Allison says, cutting through Vanya’s protests easily because this is for her own good, “That you didn’t want to see Leonard Peabody again.”)

Klaus hates his father even more for having something that could provide him the much needed relief that Klaus has to go after drugs to even attempt to replicate and instead of giving it to him, Reginald refused. Reginald held the keys to Klaus having restful nights and days without the dead screaming in his face, and Reginald wouldn’t give it to him. So yeah, Klaus hates Reginald a whole lot more

Five is more desperate. He jumps, that’s what he does. It’s backing him into a corner, a bird of prey grounded and wounded who will last out and attack at the first provocation. Fight or flight, and with his option of flight stolen from him Five fights. He’s more ruthless, more dangerous, more terrified because can you even imagine what would happen if the Commission got their hands on that serum? Because Five can. He has nightmares about it that he wakes up from, hands flexed into claws because if necessary he’ll rip out someone’s throat with his bare hands. This is not a Five who draws the line at biting, this is a Five who barely even has a concept of a line.

This is a Five who jumps to the future and who only halfway planned to come back, this was a Five who wanted to time travel to any period where Reginald Hargreeves didn’t exist and who wanted to know he could take himself before he took his siblings. This is a Five Hargreeves who didn’t ask permission. Because telling Reginald things is giving him something to use against you, is giving him something to take away from you. This is a Five that vanishes in the night with no explanation, save for a whispered plan to Vanya in the middle of the night.

Vanya never tells her siblings what she knows. She tries, once, she approaches them all shy and nerves and they brush her off and something inside of her is so cold cold cold and she turns on her heel and walks away from them. They don’t even notice her leave, and Vanya keeps the secret of Five’s ability to herself.

She still makes the sandwiches, because Five said he planned to come back and get them. Planned to pull them away. Because even Luther couldn’t force them back to their father if there was no Dad to go back to. But he doesn’t come back, and Vanya knows that something must have gone terribly wrong.

(Five would have come back, if only for her. She knows that in her bones. Because Five is more vicious, and more protective, and he knows what it is to be powerless. He taught her grapples and how to break holds in the middle of the night on her bedroom floor, taught her how to throw a punch and hold a knife, taught her how to pick a lock and break zipties. He taught her all the things he’d had to teach himself when his option to run was taken from him. He taught her all the things he’d learned to do when he was normal, like her.

“Vanya,” He’d told her so very seriously, “Vanya, you listen to me. All of us are ordinary, it’s only what we can do that is extraordinary. Take that away and we’re just like everyone else - but that doesn’t mean we’re weak. Now try again, break out of my hold. You can do this.”

Vanya remembers the look in his eyes, wild and furious. A falcon forced into a songbird’s cage. “If you have the chance,” He told her, “You run. You run, and you don’t look back.” And Vanya gets the feeling he isn’t just talking about a theoretical villain attack, but she never does get the chance to ask for clarification.)

The others assume Five made a mistake with a jump, got lost in the in between, and Reginald puts up that portrait of Five with its cold unfeeling eyes that are so very wrong because Vanya knows Five and he’s never been cold. Five was only one letter away from being fire, all passion and furious determination and always so very very hungry for more. He’d made that cold cold cold part of her thaw, just a little bit, when she was around him. And now he was gone and she didn’t even have that comfort.

Vanya waits. She grows up. She stops leaving the lights on and leaving out peanut butter and marshmallow sandwiches. She watches Diego’s powers get taken and she thinks you’re like me, now. you’re ordinary. but that doesn’t mean you can’t do extraordinary things.

The team comes home without Ben and all Vanya can feel is cold. If I’d been there - she thinks, because Dad makes her watch the footage. He calls it a thought exercise, to pinpoint where he siblings went wrong. She watches Ben die over and over again and she wonders if her father even realizes the cruelty.

Vanya hits 18, and she leaves. She’s been preparing to leave for a good long while now, not that anyone notices. She’s invisible in the household, she’s ordinary. She’s beneath notice.

(Right up until the day she leaves, she keeps practicing late at night in her bedroom. Reminds herself how to get out of restraints. How to throw a punch. Goes back over all the lessons that Five had given her, and more that she discovered on her own.)

She takes her violin and she auditions for an orchestra, and she’s good. She practices, she’s technically perfect. She doesn’t get first chair though, because there isn’t passion. 

(She wonders, if Five has taken up an instrument - how would he play? She thinks he would have gotten first chair, would have brought fire and fury into his playing. She thinks of her metaphor of him as a bird in a cage, and she thinks - why does the caged bird sing?)

She also signs up for self defense lessons. Signs up for karate. Signs up for kickboxing. She’ll never be a master of any of them, but she doesn’t need to be. She just needs to be good enough. Good enough to get away, good enough to surprise someone. One of her teachers compliments her on her ability to break holds, the way she throws a punch, and she suddenly misses Five with such ferocity it frightens her. Because usually she’s so very very numb. 

She writes the book. It isn’t anything like the one she could have written. This is a book that lifts her up, a book where she says that everyone is ordinary to start out with. But everyone is capable of extraordinary things. She tells the world about her siblings, about Luther who so rarely gets punished. About Diego who sneered at her even as his powers were taken, even as he was put on the same level as her. About Klaus who turned to drugs and Ben who died and Five who vanished and left a hole in her life.

But it’s Allison who left her the most important lesson: how to recognize subtle manipulation. Because an Allison that doesn’t rely on her rumors is still manipulative, but in a more quiet and careful sort of way that twists you up inside if you listen to her for too long.

She goes to the funeral because she wants to, not because she feels like she has to. She wants closure, she wants to look at the urn that contains her father’s body and realize that he can’t poison her anymore.

She’s there when the world splits apart in the courtyard, and Five drops through. And he looks up with fire in his eyes, raw and frightened and there’s an almost euphoria that she recognizes from when one of Five’s plans, one of the risky ones, worked. Even though his mouth says shit.

Klaus asks if anyone else sees little number Five but Vanya is already moving, pushing past her shocked sibling as she pulls her brother (he’s so small, she forgot how small he was even back then - he always seemed larger than life in her memories) and she smiles at him and says simply - “It worked.”

And Five pauses and looks at her even though their siblings clamor for answers in background, and he looks so sad that it almost penetrates the cold cold cold numbness wrapped around her heart. “No.” He tells her, “It didn’t.”

They go inside and Five makes his sandwich and they demand answers and Five gives them freely. He traveled in time. He traveled to the apocalypse. He got stuck. He made it back. He’s back in his 13 year old body.

(there’s no Reginald to tell them that time travel messes with the mind, because Five never mentioned it to him. There’s no reason for Vanya to doubt her brother’s truth.)

“Your power is spatial jumps.” Luther says, dubious, his arms crossed over his chest. 

“And yours is stupidity,” Five shoots back, and it makes Diego snort with laughter. “How do you explain this then? What, dermatologists just hate me? I look fucking thirteen, Luther. If I couldn’t time travel I would be twenty-nine, like you.”

and there’s no real response to that

They go outside to the funeral, and Diego picks a fight with Luther, and Vanya is moving forward before she realizes, before anyone realizes, before they can stop. Allison calls out with fear for her ordinary sister, Klaus shouts in alarm, and Vanya?

Vanya flips Diego over her shoulder and he crashes into the wet ground.

She looks up into the astonishment on her siblings faces and the pride on Five’s. “You’ve been practicing,” He observes, smiling with just a few too many teeth. A predator’s smile. 

Vanya smiles back, more softly. “I bet I could take you.” She tells him, ignoring their siblings still in shock around her. (Why shouldn’t she? They ignore her.)

“After we stop the apocalypse, I’d like to see you try.” Five offers back and Vanya nods and the deal is made. Because Five knows the power of what ordinary people can do when backed into a corner. He was the Commissions best not for his powers but for his creativity. He rarely jumped in the apocalypse or the commission, too many lost calories and energy, too much of a risk when those powers could be taken from him at any time

(Reginald cut off his powers in the middle of a jump once, and Five had fallen to the floor and vomited up everything in his stomach it was so painful. Tears streaming down his face as he retched, unable to even stand. Five is careful, after that. So very very careful.)

Vanya leaves to go home apologetically - she has to practice the violin and has kickboxing practice tomorrow and then she has a new student. Five waves her off and says he’ll catch up with her after her gets a cup of coffee. She gives him her address and they part ways.

He shows up in her apartment with blood oh his collar and a knife wound on his arm and Vanya fetches her med kit and feels rage chip away at the cold around her heart. “Did they die?” She asks him simply.

“Yes.” Five tells her, tilting his head to one side and examining her face as though he’s not quite sure what to make of her. But that’s okay, she not quite certain what to make of him, either.

He tells her about the eye, and when she tells him she can cancel her lesson he shakes his head. “I can go alone.” He tells her easily, “If all else fails I think I still have some blackmail material on our siblings - perhaps Allison would be useful in this endeavor.”

So Vanya stays behind, she opens her door and ushers Leonard Peabody into her apartment. She sees the way he ducks his head bashfully, the calculating glint in his eyes, and she thinks snake. But Vanya didn’t survive Reginald’s household by being dumb. She smiles and nods and ducks head shyly right back and wonders if this man had anything to do with her brother showing up in her apartment bleeding.

Later, when Allison expresses concern, Vanya doesn’t say anything against Leonard. Because despite everything, she loves her sister. And it would hurt Allison if Vanya told her that of course she didn’t trust Leonard, because Leonard was like Allison. Calculated words and actions, wondering just how quickly he could make her break.

“I heard a rumor that you didn’t want to see Leonard Peabody again.” Allison tells her, a regretful look on her face and Vanya nods blindly and tells her sister that she actually thinks seeing Leonard again would be a mistake.

But her sister is out of practice, and Vanya never forgot about the lessons she was taught as a child. Allison doesn’t word her rumor carefully enough. It doesn’t change anything.

Vanya already didn’t want to see Leonard again. He’s slimy in a way that makes the cold cold cold around her heart flex with distaste. But Vanya has so rarely gotten what she wanted in life, and she is more than used to pushing past her dislike and discomforts to get things done.

She sees Leonard again. She’s made many mistakes in her life, but she wants to know what he’s up to. Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer - isn’t that the saying?

 so when her medicine goes missing after Leonard is in her apartment, Vanya thinks on it. She tracks down her brother, and asks him his opinion. It’s the only one she really cares about, after all.

“What kind of medicine is it, again?” Five asks, brow furrowing as he realizes he’s never asked that question before. It didn’t seem important. Vanya had taken her medicine for as long as Five could remember - it was just… part of her.

“Anxiety medication.” Vanya tells him demurely, hands flexing at her sides.

“Can you get more?” Five asks.

“It’s automatically refilled for me.” Vanya says, frowning now. “It arrives by mail, but now that I think about it I don’t think I ever provided an address after I left the manor.”

They exchange a significant look. However, Five figures that this is a mystery for after the apocalypse is stopped and Vanya agrees. “Can you last without them?”

Vanya nods. She can last most things. She lasted 17 years in the manor, after all.

She sees Leonard again.

(Allison doesn’t bother to ask after him after the rumor between them. Allison is confident in her powers, far too confident. Vanya simply doesn’t bring him up again, and the issue is put to rest between them.)

Vanya juggles her time between her life, her brother, and trying to figure out what Leonard Peabody is doing, what he wants from her. He tells her she isn’t ordinary, and she thinks what’s wrong with being ordinary? It doesn’t mean i can’t do extraordinary things. She thinks of a bedroom in the middle of the night, blood dripping down her brother’s wrists as he teaches her with steady hands how to pick locks. (“If you can be where people think you can’t reach,” He told her, eyes watching where his blood dripped onto Vanya’s carpet, “Then you can pull things off they don’t think possible. Pulling off the impossible, Vanya, is never an ordinary act.” and she believes him.)

Leonard grows more confident as she doesn’t push him away, and Vanya can feel something inside herself cracking. It’s like ice breaking up after a long and hard winter, as the cold cold cold she has grown so used to… snaps. And she waves her hand, and streetlamps are crushed as car alarms go off as they feed into the loop of street noise-anger-Leonard prodding-loud loud loud

She tells Leonard she doesn’t know what he’s talking about, her having powers. But she looks at the unholy glee he can’t quite disguise behind his eyes, the excitement in his voice, the pushing for her to try, and she thinks this is wrong.

She goes to find her brother, and shows him. She tells him about the cold cold cold and how she’s off her medicine and she didn’t realize but there was lava hiding beneath the sheets of ice and she feels rage. Because she knows what this is. She knows what has been done to her. She’s seen her father take away her siblings’ powers all her life, as punishment, on a whim, for training. Why would it come as any surprise that he tried to take away hers?

but there’s a relief because Five matches her fury, inch for inch. If Reginald wasn’t already dead, it’s fairly obvious that he wouldn’t have survived much longer regardless.

“You haven’t changed any.” Five tells her, fierce as anything. “You haven’t changed. What you can do has changed. But you’re still my sister. You’re still Vanya.”

And that lays to rest a fear she didn’t even know she was holding onto. She is Vanya. She plays the violin. She’s top of her kickboxing class. She’s a part time instructor now teaching women self defense. She has six siblings. She teaches children how to play an instrument. She is an ordinary person, who is capable of extraordinary things. She’s just a little more capable than before. 

The magma settles, just a little. It’s odd to be running so hot after so long of being cold. 

“I went to the Commission,” Five tells her, holding out a scrap of paper with the name Harold Jenkins written across it. “Want to help me save the world?”

They loop in the others. Luther protests, but Diego is conspicuously silent on the matter. He remembers Vanya flipping him in that courtyard. They don’t tell the others about Vanya’s powers. (It’s like Vanya not telling them about the time travel, they ignored her and dismissed her and she’s not quite as quick to trust them as she had been as a child. She’s not a little girl, anymore.)

They go to the police station. Diego gets the file. The open it up and there’s a picture of Leonard Peabody and Allison gasps and Vanya thinks oh. This is what’s so wrong about him. A liar who can shed one identity like a snake shedding their skin. This is what I saw.

And Vanya is with them. She calls Leonard on the phone as Allison watches with wide eyes. Vanya brings up the magma boiling inside of her to her voice, coloring it with hurt and fury that she’s feeling, really feeling, as she fabricates an argument with her siblings and asks for Leonard to please pick her up. He agrees with barely disguised glee, and Vanya shoves down the wave of of hate-horror-make him pay that bubbles up in response to the man who dared think he could use her

(she isn’t stupid. neither is five. they share a look, because Leonard Peabody doesn’t have access to the kind of arsenal that could end the world. but he’s purposefully put himself in Vanya’s path, and Vanya has powers that they don’t know the full extent of just yet. in another life, Vanya is a bomb and Leonard is the one to light the fuse. in this life, Vanya won’t let him get that far.)

it’s anticlimactic, in the end. Leonard comes to pick her up, getting out of his truck and running towards her with concern on his face that sits like an ill-fitting suit. Five jumps behind him, and he is deadly and furious and loves his sister. Leonard-Harold, whoever he is, doesn’t see it coming as Five reaches and twists and there’s a snapping noise and suddenly they have a body on their hands.

They go to his house, and they find Reginald’s journal sitting there with the incriminating writing on its pages, and then they go home.

And then Five sits on the couch and flips through the journal and tells Vanya exactly what her powers are, as recorded by Reginald Hargreeves. And the others are there, and they can’t believe it - because she’s Vanya. She’s ordinary. 

Vanya crosses her legs and stares her siblings in her eyes, “I’m still ordinary.” She tells them, because that’s what she believes. Allison’s rumor when she was four still grips her, but Allison has never been especially careful about her wording and Reginald didn’t know any better. “I’m still ordinary, but ordinary people can do extraordinary things more often than not.”

And Vanya thinks, and she smiles. Because the first chair in her orchestra played with such passion and beauty that it could move someone to tears. And wasn’t that extraordinary? And the women who taught her kickboxing was the mother of five children and takes night classes because she still wants to get her degree, and isn’t that extraordinary? The woman who Vanya taught how to break a man’s wrist the other week has been pale and frail looking but she’d looked Vanya in the eyes with such fierceness as she told Vanya in no uncertain terms that she was never going to allow someone to touch her without her permission again, and that strength was extraordinary.

April 2nd is the most beautiful dawn she’s ever seen, and she tucks Five against her side as he sobs and sobs. He’s so broken now, her brother, but she doesn’t love him any less for all his sharp and jagged edges. He came back and he stopped the apocalypse, and he’s her brother. 

She isn’t cold anymore, and the heat hurts, but she’s carried a lot of pain in her life. This is nothing, in the grand scheme of things. She’s angry, yes, but she’s in control. 

“Hey Five,” She gets her brother’s attention. She knows him, she knows that without this driving him he’ll feel so empty. So isn’t it fortunate that she has just the project for him? “Do you remember, when we were children, and you would teach me how to fight?”

“Yeah.” Five says, scrubbing a hand angrily at his eyes like he thought his tears were a weakness.

Vanya smiles at him, “Feel up to teaching me again?”

Because Five needs a purpose, and Vanya needs control, and together they can figure out her powers she knows they can. And if they mend their family at the same time, if they learn how to exist together again, then maybe everything will all be worth it.

“But for now,” Vanya says, “I think I’m kind of hungry. Anyone else want to order pizza?” 

And Klaus raises his hand up and Vanya sees his new tattoo and the new ghosts behind his eyes and wonders if she should ask. Allison nods and stands up to go grab the phone. Diego shrugs and Luther looks shocked. And Five gives Vanya the smallest and most fragile smile she’s ever seen, and she smiles back at him.

The stopped the apocalypse.

Now they just have to figure out how to live again.

[chucklestheechidona]

Red Dwarf: USA

AKA: One week into isolation and a Welshman drunkenly types out his most controversial opinion

One of the first sci-fi shows I ever watched, at least, without realising it was science fiction, before even Star Trek, of which I vividly remember seeing Patrick’s face and voice on my thick arse grey heavier-than-sin Television, would have been that of the 1988 comedy - Red Dwarf.

I didn’t watch it live of course, I was born in 1993, by the time I could actually start remembering things the show had already ended. Like many people, I watched it on someone’s recorded VHS tape, among others in our house such as Duckman. Like Duckman, Red Dwarf was a bit out of my depth, but I liked it all the same. Some of the jokes landed and the slapstick and (not)aliens were enough to capture my attention.

Of course, I grew older, my appreciation for the show changed over time. The jokes obviously landed a lot more, but what I appreciated more was the character building, the acting, the writers and the cast having an appreciation, even through troubled shooting or grievances, towards what they were working through.

As anyone would expect though, I have my thoughts on where the series’s high’s ended, can see the flaws in some writing and some episodes, and overall the direction it headed after series 6, but yet, it still holds a special place in my heart.

Something I didn’t figure out until I was much older was the existence of a USA version. There was a pilot, then a failed attempt at another pilot/episode 2, and it was never heard from again.

Anyone from Britain could have told you this was a terrible idea from the start, anyone who’s watched it will tell you how awful it is.

In a DVD extra on one of the boxsets, both writers lamented what could have been if things went right, the misery of working in an American environment which didn’t appreciate the British insight. Rob, who plays Kryten, speaks about how the American cast thought the script the American execs were pushing on them to be terrible. But Rob got paid a lot of money to eat food and do some scenes, so he enjoyed it for the most part.

But if you like Red Dwarf, you already know this. If you didn’t, thanks for staying with me.

There are many reasons for why Red Dwarf USA didn’t work. “You can’t just take a British thing and try and localise it.”

Yet The Office USA is a massive hit, and has its fan-base here. 

Craig Charles, as in, Lister’s actor, reckoned it was because of a lack of a class system, although Doug, one of the writers, would disagree.

I get Craig’s feelings, mind you. In the UK, I have more in common with people who are on the same pay-grade as me than anything stupid like race, sex or religion. Which isn’t to say there aren’t those divides in the country, but the class system is very heavy here. The Lower and Working class bond knowing they’re working harder than those above for not as much pay.

But as Doug says, the people on Always Sunny/Malcolm in the Middle aren’t the same people who are on Friends/Frasier, for example. He uses a different example, for it’s an old documentary, but the point still stands. There is class in America, even if it’s implemented differently in media and IRL

(As an aside, Malcolm in the Middle was fantastic.)

Craig Bierko (the USA Craig and the USA Lister) said it was just a mistake to do, that they shouldn’t have even tried to localise an exceptional program. I mean, he partook in it, but the actor had to eat and food isn’t free.

But after all that, here’s the thing.

I think it could have worked.

It would need heavy editing mind you. A proper look into why it didn’t work in the first place. More of a look into an American future, rather than a future which was (despite original intentions) still heavily British. 

The jokes would need localising, the actors would need a bit of a workaround in terms of personality, but here’s why I started this.

Where the story would go next.

Dave Lister (UK) was a happy-go-lucky carefree scouser, who worked as little as possible, chased impossible dreams while playing a guitar he never put any actual time into learning. He got along with people quite well, despite being on the bottom of the pecking order. He got in trouble with authority, but he was doing it out of good intentions. 

This was mostly to balance out his bunkmate, Rimmer, who was in every way opposite. He was a stressed pent up ball of worry and anger, who had one dream and one goal only, of which he failed constantly. He was liked by no-one, the only person he was above (Lister) he took extreme measures to exercise the little power he had.

On an aside, UK Lister wasn’t conventionally attractive. Craig Charles is a good looking bloke mind you, he’s not ugly, but his looks managed to sell the underdog achiever. He looked very much the part of a low-life Liverpudlian drunk. (despite being a wordsmith and successful poet in real life, not to mention his impressive DJ’ing)

USA Lister however, was played by this HUNK.

Dave Lister USA was shown to be the same kind of person, but hinted at was his more roguish cheeky nature. A more... American view. While Lister UK, when talking to his crush, would be almost awkward, never really sharing many words with her, despite being madly in love with her, Lister US had gone out with Kochanski.

(True, UK did past series 5, but a retcon to match the books is still a retcon)

Lister US was cheeky, cocky, a bit arrogant to Kochanski. He hadn’t taken the relationship seriously. She was a Flight Navigation Officer, he was the lowest rank on the ship, a Third Technician. He had no aspirations, no dreams. He had a plan, much like our Lister, but hadn’t even seemed to save up pay for it. He mentions it once in passing to Kryten at the start, but the way he talked to Kristine, the way he spoke about it to Kryten, it seemed that he’d given up, more than our more hopeless UK Lister. 

UK Kristine knew Lister but had hardly shared words with him, and it was all Lister’s fault, as Kris would have been kind enough to actually talk to him. UK Lister’s story overall is of a man who had the chance to be better, but gave himself excuses why he couldn’t, or didn’t. UK Lister could have talked to Kris at any time, but had been his own obstacle.

USA Kristine however, had had USA Lister actually get her to go out with him. It was nice, they still talk. But Kris had ended it. Kris had career aspirations, and Lister had not.

(This kept close to the UK books, but UK Kris had somewhat used UK Lister as a rebound. It was still a nice enough break-up, but Lister then careens down into depression. Unlike AmeriLister who’s optimistic he can pick it back up. Gotta love America and their hope.)

This culminated in the final scene we see of pre-accident Kris, where she sees David did a noble gesture by sacrificing himself to save his cat, and (even though oddly paced) tells David she loved him.

Heat of the moment it may be, but USA Lister immediately cracks, telling the crew that he’d give up the cat’s location. It’s played for laughs obviously, but maybe this is what’s more important to USA Lister.

But these very differences, like angles, could stretch further than just copying the show. By leading on from what made AmeriDave different than BritiDave.

What I would do

First, we make USA Lister stand out more. His dress attire seemed Han Solo-esque, so let’s put a bit of that personality into him. This Lister, would have been an under-acheiver his whole life, maybe after the event, he wouldn’t be. This Lister would be brought back with a new sense of determination. He has to prove to Kochanski, Rimmer, his Cat and Holly that he’s no longer this Third Technician, he was capable of getting back the human race.

Where UK Lister (at least, in the show) would try and see in what ways he could kill time, in a sobering kind of malaise that strikes a man three million years into deep space, USA Lister would be trying to get his head around how to get back. In the final part of the show, after they see their future selves, he knows he actually has to do something. Back to earth? Sure, he wouldn’t know, and finding out would be hard, but USA Lister would actually have to learn to apply himself early. 

This doesn’t sound like Lister! (or more accurately, isn’t this just the Book Lister) British people like seeing despair. We long to see Del Boy fail, we want to see Basil Fawlty have a meltdown. Americans have hope. They want to see Ross get with Rachel, they long to see their hero win. Or if he can’t win, have a snarky comment about it. We want to see UK Rimmer and Lister fail in their attempts to get back, because it’s funny. USA have hope. They’d want to see Lister get home.

USA Rimmer would make learning hell for USA Lister. Rimmer, thinking he knows more, would foil the attempts at Lister, but not out of malice, out of incompetence on Rimmer’s part. “Thermodynamics, let me teach you, Dave, no-one’s taken that test more than I have!” Que the failed test.

Unfortunately, the Cat, Kryten, Holly and Rimmer in the US version are almost all carbon-copies of their UK counterpart. I haven’t thought this through enough, obviously. They’d have to be changed, Episode 1 would have to be rewritten, but with changes in mind.

I’d have USA Lister be an actual hero, but a kinda useless one who takes a while to get things done, consulting with his equally useless crew. Rimmer, to be a dick, but with a lot of the bitterness taken out (because American’s can’t really pull it off), but with the same inferiority complex. He’d make hell for Lister, but under the genuine reason of “I want to see you do better. (cause right now you’re an embarrassment to the human species)“ The last human, trained by the best of what was left of humanity. Or at least, Rimmer would see it that way.

The rest of the cast could be figured out later. Honestly, too much like their counterparts. I guess that was the point of the show when they tried to release it, it was only a localisation after all.

Conclusion

We’ll never know what Rob and Doug wrote that the other actors liked, I doubt a copy was kept after it was butchered by the Americans.

But I think what little made it different, was the bit where it shone. Sure, shone as in behind 4 panes of glass and a sheet of paper, but still, it could have been something.

I’m a sucker for “What could have been.” Even for money-grabbing USA executive schemes such as trying to make RD: USA

And hey, maybe it could have. And I like all that alternative stuff. When Mortal Kombat actually included bits from the movies, that made me smile. If Sonic ever had a nod to Fleetway, I’d be happy enough.

Maybe one day we’ll have an alternative Lister played by Craig Bierko, and he’d be an actual space-wanderer hero. And then our UK Lister can call him smug smeghead. And he’d be right.

(About USA Lister, not Bierko)

Final Conclusion

The word count on this went way out of hand. This killed an afternoon and I’m stuck in my house, I have a backlog a mile long to go through

Need to finish ‘Off’, ‘Torchwood’, DW, and possibly watch some Red Dwarf before the new one is out.

Thanks for listening to my rant.

Smegheads

[hollybourneauthor]

“How Teen Fiction Can Change The World”

The Patrick Hardy Lecture has been running annually since 1989. Guest speakers from the world of children’s books, including the likes of Jacqueline Wilson, Meg Rosoff, Juno Dawson, and Michael Morpurgo, have taken to the lectern, and this year I had the overwhelming privilege of speaking to those who work in the industry.

“How Teen Fiction Can Change The World” Holly Bourne, Patrick Hardy speech, 2020

 Before I get going, at the risk of sounding like a yoga teacher, I want to ground us all in this room. Right here. In this moment. It’s a Wednesday night in winter, you’re sitting in a library, and you’re about to listen to me give a lecture about stories. So, high chances are...you really like books. At some point in your life, you stumbled across a story that won you over. You became consumed by the magic of fiction, and could never go back. There are probably a few key books that you’ve read that you honestly believe changed you. Improved you. And reading those books may have led to you making a number of small decisions throughout your life that paved the way for bigger decisions, that, all collected together, led to this very point in your life. Right now. This room. The people sitting around you. Your passion. Maybe even your career. Reading is likely the part of your identity that you feel the proudest of, and the most nourished by. I know that’s true for me.

 So, I just want you to take a few moments to think about the books that led you here today. Directly, or indirectly. The books that you’ve no-doubt read and reread countless times. The books that you feel are etched onto your soul. That made you who you are. That helped you through life and steered you towards becoming someone you’re proud of… And I’m going to go out on a limb here and say, I’m guessing that those books – those life-changing books – are books that you read as a teenager.

 This is the topic of my speech today. How I believe teen fiction doesn’t only have the power to change a young person’s life. But how that magical transformation can start ripples that can actually change the world for the better. I truly believe that YA books – writing them, publishing them and distributing them – is an act of activism that can start huge, positive, social change.

 But how?

 Before I talk about teenagers, I want to explore the powerful nature of stories themselves. Our brains are wired for stories – they are how we learn to survive in the world. Human survival needs two things – the basics of how to keep yourself out of danger, and how to keep in favour with the social group around you. We are pack animals. We need the surrounding community to survive. And we constantly tell each other stories about how to live. Information is more palatable if it’s in the form of a story. Rather than saying to someone “Don’t eat those red berries”, we’re much more likely to engage with that life-saving information if someone says, “Did you hear about Ig, the caveman from next door? Oh my God, it was AWFUL. He ate those red berries on the bush outside, and his stomach exploded ALL OVER THE CAVE. It was so gnarly. They’re still cleaning it up…”

 The same is true with instructions on how to be socially accepted by others. Linguistic experts have found humans spend most of their conversation time gossiping about people who aren’t there. Telling stories on each other. Gossip is actually narrative that instructs humans on what is and isn’t acceptable in their social group. Again, we’d get bored of an information manual. But if someone comes over to you, wide-eyed, saying, “Have you heard that John left his wife for his twenty-two year old secretary? And now everyone has turned on him and he isn’t welcome at the Safari Supper any more,” you’d be lapping it up. But you’d also be learning important lessons about how to behave. Instructions are boring, but stories are riveting. Our brain rejects one, and embraces the other. And, through narrative, we learn how to survive – both emotionally and physically – in this world.

 I find the work of Sigmund Freud hugely influences how I write stories, and how to ensure they connect with my readers. Some of you in this room will, no doubt, have done English degrees and will be familiar with how Freud’s theories relate to narrative. So apologies if this is a recap, but it’s something I try to remind myself of whenever I’m writing.

 Freud believed all humans lived in a state of constant conflict between three parts of our psyche – our Id, our Superego and our Ego.

 Our Id is the totally subconscious, primitive and instinctual part of us. It’s our selfish desires. Our animal selves. And it’s always there.

I’m hungry.

I want that.

I want to have sex with that person. NOW.

A newborn baby is completely Id-driven – at the mercy of its desires. And that part of us never goes away. The Id is always with us, steering us to survive. Utterly reactive and animalistic.

 Whereas the Superego is there to tame the Id. The Superego is the cocktail of messages we marinate in throughout our lives, telling us what a person should or shouldn't do. The Superego is about consequences. It’s your values. Your moral compass. Don’t steal. Don’t snatch. Don’t dry-hump that person on the Tube even if you really fancy them. Essentially the Superego socializes us. The most powerful influence on your Superego comes from your parents and your early childhood experiences. But society has a part of play. Laws are part of the Superego – telling us what is and isn’t legally acceptable. And culture plays a huge part in shaping it too. What should a man be? What should a woman be? What is right, or wrong? And the Superego isn’t always a good thing. It provokes a lot of guilt in us, and, if taken too far, feelings of shame can make us unhappy.

 And, finally, the Ego is the navigator of these two conflicts. It’s the “weigher-upper” – listening to the Id and the Superego and making the best judgement it can. I like to believe that the Ego is essentially who we are as a person, based on the decisions we make as a result of this eternal internal conflict. Rather than beating ourselves up for having “bad thoughts”, we should judge one another, and ourselves, on our actions. It’s our actions that make us who we are. We are what we do, not what we think.

 We learn about Freud in creative writing because, to some degree, every successful story represents the struggle between the Id, the Superego and the Ego. We are drawn to these stories because they reflect the battle we fight in our heads every day. If you consider the huge, ongoing success of comic book films, you can see how Freud’s theory explains their popularity. Baddies in these stories are often very Id-driven – selfish, compulsive and uncaring of how their actions impact those around them. Whereas superheroes are disguised “Superegos” – representing goodness and morality.

 But what excites me most about Freud isn’t how I can use his work to shape my books, but the belief I have that reading powerful stories can actually contribute to a person’s Superego. How the act of reading a work of fiction can actually cause a psychological change in us that makes us better people in our non-fiction lives. And the nature of the adolescent brain makes the opportunities for this even richer.

 So why books? What makes fiction the most potent vessel for activism compared to, say, films, TV, video games or even an Instagram caption? It’s because the very nature of reading itself is an irreplicable act of immersive empathy. When I go into schools, I always tell teenagers that novels are like really safe, legal, hallucinogenic drugs. I once read a funny tweet that said that reading a book is crazy when you consider what’s actually taking place. Effectively, you are staring at symbols printed onto a dead tree and vividly hallucinating. That’s pretty magical when you truly consider it. Even with all our technological advances, even with virtual-reality goggles, nothing quite recreates reading. How a reader is effectively transplanted into the mind of someone who doesn’t exist – feeling their feelings as they’re feeling them, experiencing their experiences as they experience them. When written well, and used for good, stories can educate readers about all sorts of social issues by provoking an empathetic and emotional response. You can open a reader’s eyes to the truth of what life is like for people who aren’t like them – from being on the receiving end of racism, to experiencing mental illness, trauma or physical disabilities. In To Kill A Mockingbird, Atticus tells his children that, in order to understand a person, you have to try and crawl into their skin and walk around in it. That’s exactly what books do.

 It can also be truly revolutionary and reassuring for a reader to find a book where they see themselves in a main character. Especially if this main character’s hardship or thought processes are something you believed was unique only to you. Being seen, heard, understood – sometimes the first time someone feels like that is through the pages of a novel. Alan Bennett once spoke of the magic of this moment and how it’s like a hand has come out of the pages and is holding yours. And if you’re reading about a main character suffering how you suffer, and yet this character is able to stand up and be brave... Whether that's speaking up, fighting back, or simply just asking for help...well, this connection between writer and reader could well inspire the reader to be brave themselves.

 Now, let’s go back to those books you had in your head. Your favourite books that you read when you were younger. The ones that really lodged in. What’s going on there?

 There’s actually some neuroscience that can explain this. Scientists have found that during puberty, when a child’s brain is rewiring to become an adult brain, a side effect is that we make memories more strongly compared to any other time in our lives. You can recall and connect with your teen years more easily and potently compared to your twenties, thirties and onwards. I certainly know this to be true for myself. Ask me to close my eyes and remember being fifteen and, yeah, I’m there. Hell, I don’t even need to close my eyes. I can already smell the Lynx Africa, remember who kissed who at the school disco. I can remember the full names of all the popular people in my year group. And yet, if you ask me what I was doing at twenty-five, twenty-eight, thirty-one, I’d have to think about it. Trying to recall what job I was doing, struggling to remember certain people’s names... It’s vaguer, and certainly less visceral.

 On top of this they’ve found that teenage brains are hyper-attuned to social stimuli. From an evolutionary perspective, adolescence is when you have to figure out how important you are to your social group and that impacts your chances of survival. This means teenagers are constantly asking themselves: Am I important? Do I matter? Does anyone care about me? Because of this, they’ve found that teenage memories particularly linked to identity and sense of self are even stronger. So if a teenager stumbles across a book that is holding their hand through its pages, just consider the POWER of that memory.

 And let’s not forget just how wonderfully malleable young people are. Teenagers are so much more open to change – both in society, and in themselves. They haven’t calcified yet. They haven’t had as many years of repeating unhealthy patterns and gathering biased evidence to prop up unhelpful theories – about the world and their sense of self. I saw a talk once by a psychologist who said we need to stop dismissing our younger years as being unimportant years of freedom that do not matter. Actually, your youth and what you do with it paves the way to the future, and tiny adjustments, over time, can see you end up in a totally different place. She used the analogy of aeroplanes, and I love to think of teenagers as aeroplanes taking off from Heathrow airport. The planes all soar up in the same direction, but with minor changes in angle, they land in New York or Brazil or the Arctic.

 I’ve started to see evidence of my books causing angle changes in the journeys of my readers’ lives. I’ve now written ten YA novels, and have built my career by being honest with teenagers about the hardship of their reality, as well as encouraging them to fight for a better future and a better world. I educated them about feminism through my Spinster Club series, asked the question Is mental illness preventable? in Are We All Lemmings And Snowflakes? and, most recently, wrote about an emotional and sexually abusive relationship in The Places I’ve Cried In Public. I’ve been touring the book with Women’s Aid and have become an ambassador for their Love Respect campaign that educates young people about healthy relationships. I’ve always believed that my stories were activism, and hoped they’d create positive changes in the Superegos of my readers. And I’ve now been in the game long enough to see my faith wasn’t misguided.

 I met my very first Spinster Club alumni only last week, at a Women’s Aid event I did at Bristol University. After my talk, a young woman came up to me, squealing, and revealed she’d read my Spinster Club books as a teenager and they’d made her a feminist. She then went on to say she’s now studying law, and has got a barrister traineeship and wants to use law to protect vulnerable women. I’m not going to lie – it was probably one of the happiest moments of my life.

 And the ability to tweak a person’s journey has never been more evident than in my latest book, The Places I’ve Cried In Public. Since it’s been published, it’s had more crossover appeal than I thought, and I now get several messages a week from women in their twenties, thirties, forties, fifties and even sixties, telling me their own harrowing abuse stories. They tell me about their PTSD, the university degrees they never got because their partner never let them go, their fights through family court, their lost years, lost self-worth, their therapies and their ongoing recoveries. Each tale is just as heart-wrenching as the last. And all of them write to me, I wish I’d read your book when I was younger, or I wish I could go back in time and give this to my 14-year-old self. They wish they’d known the red flags to look out for that could’ve prevented them from going down a path they’re still on.

 And when I talk to teenage readers about the same book…

 “Well, those sorts of relationships sound terrible. I’m never going to let myself get into something like that.”

 “I HATE Reese. I want to kick him in the eyeballs.”

 “The book made me cry so much. I never want that to happen to me.”

 I’m not saying preventing awful things is that simple, but, also, maybe it can be? When you combine everything I’ve spoken about, what’s to say we can’t use fiction to nudge teenagers into making healthier decisions that will benefit them? As well as hopefully entertaining them along the way.

 When we start reflecting on the power of teenage fiction, as people who work in the industry, we need to ask ourselves: how do we utilize this? Maximize this? And, to me, the most important thing is to remove as many barriers as possible between teenagers and the stories that can change their lives. I see the need to address this in three ways.

 Firstly, we need to ensure books are available to all teenagers, regardless of their means. Novels, and their life-changing magic, should never be allowed to become an elitist item. So we need to fight to keep libraries and school libraries open, and to keep trained librarians in position. Librarians are experts at matchmaking teenagers with the best books for them.

 Secondly, we need to fight for all teenagers to be able to see themselves in books by making the publishing industry more diverse, and therefore the stories it produces more diverse. The magic of fiction can only work if there’s an authentic connection between writer and reader, and diverse voices are an essential component for this to occur. If we think back to that reminiscence bump, and how memories about identity leave a particularly strong mark, just imagine how it must feel to be a marginalized teenager who finds a book that finally gets them.

 And thirdly, we can’t let our own maturity and “calcification” accidentally erect barriers by letting literary snobbery shame a teenager for what they are reading. There is no such thing as good or bad reading – there is only reading. We need to celebrate and reward the books that teenagers are connecting with. It’s the connection that changes a life, not the beauty of a sentence. Yes, perhaps ideally, we want them to read the classics, but they’re much more likely to get there if the world of reading seems like an open, non-judgemental, non-elitist place. Let’s also recognize how hard it is to write a book that’s “easy to read” – the craftsmanship that goes into creating a story that pulls a teenager away from the huge list of distractions fighting for their attention. Literary snobbery is an unhelpful stance that will only inform a teen’s Superego in a negative way, leading to shame and exclusion. In trying to crowbar a teenager into reading a certain type of book, you’re potentially putting them off all books for ever.

 I started by grounding us in this room. And now, after geeking out on you for half an hour about brain science and psychology, I want to bring it back to this room. I want us to take a moment to reflect on just how much power sits within these four walls. Collectively we have access to thousands upon thousands of young people, and a passion for the stories we want to give them. Just think of the ripples we can create by the simple, wonderful act of activism which is giving a book to a teenager. I honestly believe that giving the right book to the right teenager at the right time can change and possibly even save their lives. And I also believe that all those teenager aeroplanes, taking off from Heathrow airport, feeling empowered and understood, will go on to achieve remarkable things. Teen fiction really can change the world, and make it a better place.

 A long time ago, someone gave you a book that led to you sitting in this room today. Let’s go out and start that journey for others. Who knows who will be sitting listening to the Patrick Hardy lecture in twenty years’ time, and what they will have achieved. But every time I think of this, I feel nothing but hope.

 Thank you so much for listening.

[colonel-insomniac]

The Thief's Prince (part two

A/N- ok guys part two is here and part three will be up at most by next weekend though I'll try and get it up before then. Read all my other one shots on AO3 here

“I am so dead.” Are the only words that managed to exit the boy sitting naked in the tub.

“Uhm, I’m sorry but you just came out of a locket and I’m naked. So, uhm, who are you exactly?” Bobby asks, trying to stay calm, thankful for the bubbles covering his less appropriate areas.

“Ah, excuse me, Mr Porter. I am Sheldon Copepod, and I am the powerful being that haunts this locket. I am a genie and I am here to grant you three wishes of whatever you may desire, whenever you desire.” Bobby has to think about this one.

“Wait. I’m getting major vibes that you’re the type of genie that takes everything literally. And doesn’t copepod mean shrimp?” The genie looked a little bothered, at Bobby’s questions, but answered them regardless.

“Yes, and yes. If you absolutely have to know, the last genie of this lamp had a curse put upon him, and I was foolish enough to trade spots with him, and then the curse moved to me.” Bobby hates the feeling of being enclosed in a space, and so naturally he feels bad for Sheldon.

“How long have you been stuck in there?” Maybe he’s being too forward, but he really feels bad.

“Two decades.” Twenty years? That’s only one year older than Bobby, meaning that Sheldon has been stuck there for the entire duration of Bobby’s life.

“So I get three wishes?” He’s already thinking of what he might want, but he also knows that if he were the one trapped in there, he’d want his freedom. He’s gonna free Sheldon. But he isn’t going to tell him that just yet, just in case he tries to pull something.

“I believe that is what I said, yes. Now, do you wanna make your first wish or not? I’m a very busy genie.” Bobby contemplates asking exactly how someone trapped in a locket could have so many things to do, but he thinks better of it; pissing off something more powerful than you probably isn’t the best idea.

“I’m not exactly sure what I should wish for.” Sheldon sighs, and Bobby swears he hears him mutter “how did I get stuck with such a stupid kid?” which makes bothers Bobby a little. He is not a kid anymore, he’s a criminal. And criminals are too weathered to be considered kids, regardless of age.

    “Kid, I can do just about anything you want me to do.” Sheldon is quick to add on when he sees Bobby’s eyes widen with all the possibilities. “Within limits, of course. I can not and will not kill anyone, bring anyone back from the dead, or make anyone fall in love with you. That last one would just be cruel.” Bobby’s cheeks flush at the last part, instantly thinking of the prince, even though that’s just stupid.

    Everyone knows the prince would never love a criminal, it’s just plain strange. And yet, Bobby still can’t help but fantasize, even if it would never work out. He’s going to get hanged for his crimes if anyone figures out his true identity, and even though prince Patrick knows, Bobby figures he’s probably the safest one to have found out. Childhood friends, and all.

“Okay, well I don’t need anything now, and it seems wasteful to use a wish on something when I could be in danger later, so I don’t have a wish right now.” The glare sent his way by the being makes him add a ‘sorry.’ He’s really not trying to be cursed tonight.

The genie disappears back into the locket, accidentally knocking something over. It clatters on the floor, and Bobby cringes each time it makes contact with the floor. Bobby next hears footsteps rushing towards the door, and three and a half knocks. “Are you alright?” The prince asks, his voice slightly muffled by the door.

Bobby nods, head still whirling from everything going on, and it takes him a moment to realize Patrick can’t actually see him. “Uh, yeah! Just knocked something over accidentally.”

He decides he’s probably been in there long enough, so he drains the water out of the tub and dries himself off and redresses in his dirt-stained clothes. When Bobby exits the bathroom, he sort of just stands awkardly in the room, freezing but not wanting to say anything. He’s taken enough, he thinks. A locket, a bunch of semi-valuable to valuable items, he literally robbed Patrick the second he turned away and was able to. Bobby’s such a bad person.

His stomach feels as though it’s in knots, and he’s kinda concerned he’s gonna throw up, but then Patrick looks over, and leaps out of his bed excitedly, a gleeful look in his eye. “Yay, you’re back—wait, are you okay? You look like you’re gonna be sick. Come, lie down on my bed?” He asks, pushing the shorter boy towards the bed, a hand on Bobby’s back, and it burns Bobby through his shirt; it makes him feel even worse.

So he walks. Not because he thinks he should lie down, but because it’s the only way he can stop himself from either freezing up completely, or bolting out the door, away from here, from this kingdom. Maybe he ought to do that anyways. Rid the kingdom of the petty thief known as Acro.

Bobby’s mom used to tell him that he was born with an extra sensitive heart; she told him that the emotions people felt, he felt on a deeper level. But for a majority of his life, he’d only felt happiness. He felt that glittering emotion, sparkling like a diamond submerged in a lake in the afternoon. And this feeling of overwhelming guilt is choking him from inside his body. He’s repelled by it, and even though he just bathed, he feels dirtier than he did before.

The bed is indescribably soft, and the pillows even softer, and Bobby knows if it weren’t for his current predicament, he’d be out cold in a matter of minutes. He’d give anything to fall into that peaceful oblivion right now. “Why are you being so nice to me?” He asks. “I’m a thief, and I’ve deceived so many people.” Patrick sighs, but his back is towards Bobby, so he can’t see the prince’s expression.

“Doing whatever you must to keep you and your loved one’s alive is hardly a crime. In my mind, it cancels out the crime.” Bobby turns around, cheek pressed to the pillow, and closes his eyes. That statement won’t hold when Patrick finds out they were robbed. He’s going to instantly know it was Bobby, and then probably have the king sentence him to life in the dark dungeon.

He mutters something along these lines, and Patrick whirls around. “Did you say something?” He asked, and Bobby gets the feeling that the prince is ready to argue with Bobby on this.

“I said that wouldn’t be your outlook if you were one being robbed.”

“Maybe not, and you’re right because I’ve only ever lived with money, I’ve never been robbed—” Oh, the irony, “—so maybe you are right. Maybe I would hate you then. But I have the money, I have everything I need and more. I don’t see why we don’t give money to the people, to be honest. It really doesn’t make sense.”

Bobby’s left speechless for a moment. He’s never met someone who was so nonchalant and uncaring about his money. He really should have asked, but that would have been embarrassing. Bobby has to go get the stolen items and return them before anyone finds out. But how can he just excuse himself? He slides off the bed, “I need to go, I forgot I had to do something for my boss.” He imagines the words spilling over his shoulders as he rushes out the door. A knot is in his gut as he runs, his feet pounding on the pavement, pushing him forward. Each step fills him with more and more hope.

The doors to the Krustie Krabbe clang open, but Bobby barely flinches. “Mr Krabbes!” He calls out. Surely he’s left the restaurant, it’s late in the night. He checks his office anyways, hoping against all odds that Krabbes is there.

No luck. He grabs a couple of burgers and bags them before heading back out. He's gotta check out Krabbes' house next. The house is small, painted black and white, and Bobby knocks on the wood door. He knocks every couple seconds, desperate to fix his mistake before it gets noticed.

"What is it, boy? You be knockin like some Savage beast be nippin at your heels."

"Mr Krabbes, we made a mistake. We need to go return all the stuff from the palace. The prince—" Krabbes cuts Bobby off quickly, pulling him in the house harshly.

"You got found out by the prince? And yer here, compromising me situation?" Bobby inwardly groans.

"You don't get it, he's not like the king he said he'd give people money if they needed it. We can just ask him for money!" At the mention of money, Krabbes pauses, giving Bobby hope that his boss will give in.

But then he shakes his head. Because of course he would. "No me boy! It's a good idea in theory but he won't be that open with his money once you ask." Bobby's head drops and he looks at his shoes, silently angry.

"Besides, it wouldn't keep us going for long. We got mouths to feed, boy-o, and we can't keep asking the prince for money." He adds in a softer tone.

Bobby sighs and watches as locks of his strawberry blonde hair bounce. "Alright." He replies, turning on his heel. He leaves with a muttered goodnight, and doesn't look back.

The bag of burgers is still clutched in his hand, forgotten but not unwanted, and Bobby keeps his eyes carefully trained on the horizon, pushing out all his thoughts. The palace looms over him, looking more daunting than it previously had, but Bobby scales the wall anyways, miraculously unseen yet again.

He trudges toward the prince's room, heart in his stomach. He could always rob it back from Mr Krabbes, but he doesn't know whether he'd want to risk his job or not. "Patrick," he calls through the door, "I'm back. I brought food too!" He tries to keep his tone light and happy despite not feeling like it. He really is a deceiver.

When the door opens, Bobby walks in, chattering to avoid the gnawing guilt he feels. It isn't until he's seated on the floor, waiting for Patrick to join him that he realizes the prince hasn't said a word. He looks up at Patrick, who's looking at him with a frown, eyebrows scrunched together.  "Do you know what happened while you were away?" Is the first thing the taller of the two asks.

Bobby shakes his head, gulping. "The guards found that there were things missing from the palace. Some silverware, some jewelry, some gold. We were robbed. And y'know the name I heard from the guards?" Bobby stays completely still, stiller than he's ever been in his life. The prince continues: "Acro. That's what they said. They said they were sure it had to be Acro because like all of Acro's thefts, everything was put back the way it was, neatly. Almost as though trying to hide that a theft had occurred."

It's true. When he's stealing from the vendors he can't necessarily afford to be meticulous, but on the small handful of home robberies that he's done, he's always made sure to neaten everything up. He looks away from the prince. "Why'd you do it?" He asks, voice laced with sorrow.

This makes Bobby sadder but it also angers him. That's exactly what he was saying to the prince earlier. "I told you you wouldn't get it." Bobby stands up, decreasing the distance between them. "You didn't listen. You have no clue how it is out there or what it feels like to go to bed with an empty stomach, trying to make the best of it because your friends need it more. You don't know how impossible it is to make money out there, you don't know what it's like to essentially be forced to rob and run for your life because you grew up with money, you grew up comfortable."

Bobby's suddenly of his rising voice, his finger poking Patrick's chest, the prince's breath hitting his forehead. He has to contain himself. "I should call the guards." Patrick states icily.

"Do it." Bobby snarls. "I dare you."

The prince narrows his eyebrows, and shouts the word at the top of his lungs and moments later, four guards rush in, grabbing Bobby by the arms. "This boy bothering you, your highness?" One of them states. His voice is deep, smooth like velvet.

"That boy has confessed to me that he is none other than Acro." He States, maintaining eye contact with Bobby.

Bobby can feel the blood leech out of his face, suddenly numb. He can't hear the conversation amidst his shock, and he hardly feels them dragging him away. He's looking at Patrick, who's looking at him. Both of them broken.  

The dungeon is cold and damp. It feels grey, sucking out the color of the world, leaving it hollow. The way he feels on the inside. He's curled in a ball in the corner of his cell, trying to piece things together.

He's going to be executed. Day after tomorrow. It's off with his head. He's past crying now, he's just thinking and thinking and thinking. Bobby wishes he'd done everything different. He's hugging his knees to his chest when something clatters to the ground, startling him. The locker.

He face palms. Of course! Why didn't he think of it sooner? Hurriedly, Bobby picks the necklace up, secures it around his neck and rubs it. "What, what do you—where are we?"

"We're in the dungeon and I'm gonna have my head chopped off. They found out I'm the thief they've been searching for. Can you help me?" The genie blinks in surprise. Maybe it's the wild look in Bobby's eyes, or the desperation in his voice, but the glare that was fixed on him by the genie melted off Sheldon’s face, and he nods. “It’ll take a wish, though.”

“Yeah, but I figure that my life is at stake here, probably a good way to use my first wish.” Bobby would smile, but he’s feeling so numb. So empty. So broken.

Sheldon nods, snapping his fingers. When Bobby opens his eyes, the two are in a sandy setting, and in the back of his mind Bobby thinks of the word ‘desert.’ “Where are we?” He asks, fingers digging into the soft grains.

“See that building that’s just barely visible?” Sheldon points into the distance, and if Bobby squints his eyes, he can just barely see a structure. He nods, and Sheldon continues: “Well, that’s where we need to head to. When we get there, I think we’ll find someone who might be able to help.” The mismatched pair head off towards the unknown. Well, unknown to Bobby.

Hours later, they reach their destination, and strains of music hit his ears. There are people flitting to and from, chattering above the music in a tongue he can’t understand. He’s not sure where he is, but he’s relieved he isn’t home for the moment. He’d be a sitting duck, waiting for his demise to come at last. He could just never return, now that he thinks about it. He could stay here, lonely, unable to communicate with those around him. He would be safer.

“Quit your sulking and get a move on.” Bobby’s companion had quit his floating, now walking beside him, dressed in clothes similar to his own.

“I think I earned the right to sulk.” Bobby remarks sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

“Why, because some guy you knew once upon a time ratted you out and he just so happens to be the prince and love your life?” Sheldon bats his eyes at the last part, mocking Bobby lightly.

“Oh be quiet, you wouldn’t understand what it’s like to finally reunite with an old friend you have feelings for only to mess it up because of who you are.” Bobby sighs, blinking back tears.

Sheldon’s face closes off in the span of a second: “Maybe I understand better than you think.” Bobby studies his companions face for a moment, eyebrows scrunched in thought. “Anyways,” The genie changes the subject, attitude flipping on a dime as they approach the doors to a castle, “Here we are.”

Bobby isn’t exactly sure where here is, but the genie knocks on the wood doors, and when they swing open, the genie and Bobby walk in, greeted by a giant fountain. Sheldon guides Bobby around the fountain, almost as though he knows exactly where he’s going. A couple minutes later, the two reach a door, and Sheldon knocks the door before swinging it open. Bobby’s about to protest and insist they wait for a response, but all his thoughts disappear when he sees the one and only Aladdin lounging on a fainting chair. He sits up when he sees the pair. “Hey guys!” He swings himself off the chair and stands in front of them. He’s a head or so taller than Bobby, and when Aladdin looks at Bobby he appears pained for some reason. “You’re so young.” Are the only words he appears to be able to communicate.

Bobby’s the first to break eye contact. “I’m Bobby Porter. I got into some seriously hot water. I’m scheduled to be executed day after tomorrow. I don’t know what to do, but can you maybe help me?” Aladdin nods, sympathy written on his features.

“I’ll try everything I can, but I don’t know how much help I’ll end up being. My circumstances worked out in the best way possible for me, but that might have been pure luck.” Bobby nods, wishing this didn’t even have to happen at all.

"Alright, so have you tried winning the hand of the princess?" He begins, and Bobby flushes.

"Actually, it's a prince, but yeah, I tried. Kind of. It backfired though.” Intrigued eyes meet Bobby’s sad ones. "I kinda robbed him and his father and he found out it was me and ratted me out." Bobby's cheeks burn, but mostly because it seems so stupid. Why would anyone risk robbing the royal family?

"Oh, that makes things a little tougher." Is the response he gets and Bobby nods somberly.

"Well, you could get him away from the palace and talk things through with him?"

"I tried that already." Bobby replies, irritated and sad.

"Did you try that or did you get defensive? 'Cause it isn't uncommon for thieves like us to get defensive when confronted.” Bobby looks away, which gives the answer off.

“Okay, that answers that,” Aladdin claps his hands, startling Bobby a little. “The good news is I’ve got a plan. But for it to work I need to come too.”

Bobby nods, “I don’t wanna use my second wish to get us back in case we need it for something later.” He’s still so shaken from the thought of his head getting chopped off, the feeling of the cold metal they bound his wrists with on the way to the dungeon burned into his skin, and he can feel the phantom nick of a sharp object caressing his neck. He pushes those thoughts away and focuses on his breathing only. He can’t break down here, not now.

Aladdin seems to sense Bobby’s thoughts veering onto a much darker path, and he interjects into the noise in Bobby’s brain. “We can use my carpet.” Is the simple response given, and Bobby’s vaguely aware of a warm hand on his freckled forearm.

He nods, focusing on that warmth as he stands up and puts on a brave front. “Right, let's get this thing started.”