#being pushed by reginald as well .. and all that encompasses

[sixtacles]

the weight of expectations ,       far too heavy for anyone to carry   —   one and six ,        first and last in everyone’s eyes    (    everyone but them :         what an irony that of a secret number seven ,       present only in theory   ) .       they're not close by any means ,       but it's with a curious sort of  ...    admiration for his brother that ben sits near him ,      an open book resting on his knees :        how can a person stay so strong even in the face of misfortune itself ?        not in the physical sense    (    though that ,     too ,     ben can’t help but think of as a virtue :         the distant memory of sneaking out ,     years ago ,     of dragging allison and klaus to a book store and reading all about muscled superheroes much like their number one in old comic books .          hey ,    the fuckers are copying us ,         klaus had said .       it seemed true back then   ) ,        but more like how ben feels after summoning them    —   this cruel ,    head - spinning ,     nauseating tiredness that he’s seen on each of his siblings before .       but never on luther ,       no .        

half of the time it’s difficult to know whether to feel resentful of the fact ,       or glad that his brother manages to pull himself together easier than the rest of them .          “    diego says they got you pretty good ,   ”      he starts ,       a nonchalance to his tone that does not meet his eyes .       another sucessful mission  —  another set of bruises to add to the collection ,       what’s new ?        “    are you okay ?   ”

@moonexile       ♡

[helaintoloki]

Odds and Ends

pairing: Ben Hargreeves x reader, Five Hargreeves x reader

warnings: angst, some fluff, mentions of blood, death, unrequited love

notes: listen, the pairings sound odd but they make sense when you read it i promise

prompt: “There’s a time for us, it’s just not now.”

They say when you die your life flashes before your eyes; you witness the moment of your birth from an outsider’s perspective, you revisit your first steps and your first love, you remember the quiet nights of rainfall on the windows and the smell of freshly cut grass on early school morning’s. You can recall how it felt to get your heart broken for the first time and the warmth you felt wrapped in your mother’s embrace. It is quick and long all at once, like watching a movie, except everyone fails to mention what happens once the credits begin to roll. Where do you go? What do you see? What do you do?

You’d been the first to get struck by the Handler’s gunfire, a bullet flying straight through your chest and embedding itself in your heart. You died almost instantly, and despite the pure horror that struck Five at the sight of your gruesome death he could do nothing to save you as he too crumpled to the ground. It was a split second of pain, and then you were gone.

Just as you had been promised, flashes of the life you had lived pass you by with the same quick clicks of a slideshow presentation on a projector. You could see yourself nestled in your mother’s arms, the swaddle of blankets encompassing your figure shielding you from the outside world. You watched your younger self shyly display your powers to a stoic Reginald Hargreeves, seven heads curiously peeking through the crack of the door to get a look at the team’s newest edition while your mother watched on anxiously. You saw the way in which you napped upon Five’s shoulder, the rainfall pattering gently against the window as he read the pages of his favorite novel, and you relived the sadness that came over you at his disappearance. You witnessed the quiet nights of stargazing alongside Ben, experienced your first kiss again and your first time falling in love only for it to end in bloodshed and a snowy funeral with tearful apologies and guilt ridden thoughts. Everything you’d ever lived through plays out in front of you right until the final gunshot, and then everything around you goes dark. There is nothing.

You’re not sure how long you sit in the empty space where life ends and the afterlife begins, but soon enough you find yourself wandering through the doorway that suddenly presents itself to you. There are no clues as to where it might lead, but light bleeds through the cracks and beckons you to step forward before you can change your mind. You’re overwhelmed by the warmth that surrounds you the moment you step foot inside, and it takes you a moment to adjust before you can fully comprehend where you are.

The room you stand in is quiet, sunlight filtering through blinds and coating the cream colored walls in golden hues. Colorful houseplants line the shelves and photo frames fill in the empty spaces— moments from different points of time occupy the frames, stolen glances and hidden kisses and dreamy smiles. You gravitate towards the photo next to the succulent plant and gingerly pull it from the shelf: it’s a photo of you and Ben as children, and with a watery smile you bring the picture close to your chest and clutch it tightly against your heart.

“I thought you’d like it,” a voice says gently, your whole body stiffening in surprise at the sound. A single tear slides down your cheek before you can will yourself to turn around, and you nearly drop the frame at the sight before you. He’s different than you remember him, but he still has the same kind eyes and gentle smile that you missed ever so dearly. His eyes seem to sparkle at the sight of you, welling with tears as he opens his arms to you. “Hi, y/n.”

“Ben,” you whisper in a trembling voice, a choked sob escaping you as you fling yourself into his arms and hug him impossibly tight. You can feel the warmth that radiates from him almost as if he were alive, can sense the way his arms wrap themselves around your waist and squeeze you unbearably close to his chest, and you can savor the sensation of his plush lips pressing against your forehead in a tender kiss.

“I’ve missed you,” he whispers, afraid that if he raises his voice any higher he’ll disrupt the peaceful quiet you find yourselves in. “I didn’t expect you so soon.”

“I didn’t either,” you admit with a weak smile. Chills crawl down your spine as you’re reminded of your own death, but you push the thoughts away in order to make room for Ben. After all these years, you’ve finally been reunited with the love of your life, and if you’re being honest you aren’t quite sure how to act. It almost doesn’t feel real, and a small part of you is afraid of waking up and finding that it was nothing but a dream. Ben pulls your attention towards him with the careful guidance of his finger underneath your chin, his reassuring features calming your nerves.

“You’re not dreaming,” he promises you. “This is real, you’re home.”

“I’m home,” you reiterate with a tearful smile before carefully cupping his face in your hands. “I’m home.”

(Five’s body tremors in time with his breathless panting as he struggles to fight against the heaviness of his eyelids. His body is warm and cold all at once with the blood that slowly pools around his figure, and he uses some of the last remaining strength he has to turn his head and look upon your body. You lie lifeless and still, hair splayed around your head like a halo and crimson red seeping through your clothing, and a shuddering breath leaves him at the sight. His first love, his only love, the one that could have been had he not gone against his father’s wishes all those years ago, is dead, and it seemed he could do nothing to stop it. Soon he would join her along with the rest of his siblings in the quiet afterlife, and so would come the final end of the Umbrella Academy.)

“I’m so sorry about what happened to you, Ben. You were so young, you didn’t deserve it, and if I had just-”

“Hey,” he interrupts gently, “it wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t anyone’s fault.”

“But being alone for this long...”

“I’ll admit, it wasn’t exactly a walk in the park,” Ben says with a faint chuckle, “but I’m okay now, we’re okay, and I don’t have to be alone anymore.”

“I missed you,” you profess vehemently. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he says with a careful smile, one that slowly begins to dwindle with time.

“Ben?” You prod gently. “What is it?”

(All Five had ever wanted was to keep you safe, whether it be from a scraped knee after a bout of rough housing with Diego or the end of the world, it was his job. You’d fallen in love with his brother in the wake of his absence, something Five could never blame you for no matter how much it hurt, and it was through Vanya’s book that he got a glimpse of the life you had lived without him. Your secret romance with the Horror, your descent into loneliness and isolation after his passing, your work as a nurse under the guise of a fake name so that you could use your gift without anyone ever associating you with the life you had lived as a child. You didn’t want it, and he’s sure you didn’t want this— to die such a horrible death at such a young age when you still had your whole life ahead of you. Five had lived long enough to see what the world had to offer, if he were to die now he’d have all the boxes checked on his list, but you and his siblings still had so much to live for and so many things left to do.

“I just want you to be careful,” your voice echoed in his mind, young and naive and apprehensive about Five’s plan to travel without Reginald’s permission. “Be smart about this, smarter than you usually are, and make sure you come back home.”

“You’re the genius who said we should jump. Right?” Luther. “You’re the one who got us stuck here.”

“Start small.” The voice of his father. “Seconds, not decades.”

Wait a minute, that’s it! By god, that’s it!)

“You can’t stay.”

“W-What? I don’t understand, what do you mean I can’t say?” You sputter, taken back by Ben’s blunt declaration. You were dead, where else could you go, what else could you do besides spend the rest of eternity with the love of your life?

“You can’t stay,” Ben repeats solemnly. “You can’t die yet, it’s not your time.”

“But I am dead! A bullet literally went through my heart, I don’t think you can exactly come back from that,” you protest anxiously.

“I can’t explain it, but trust me when I say that it isn’t time for you yet,” Ben pleads, gently taking your trembling hands in his own and giving them a soft squeeze. “You still have so much to do in life, so many great things. You’re going to get married, you’re going to settle down in a nice little house with cute little kids running around the place, and you’re going to be happy. So happy. But you can’t do that here, so you have to go.”

“Ben, please,” you beg through a sob. “Please, I want to stay here with you. Don’t make me go back, don’t make me leave you, I can’t.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Ben shushes gently as he cups your face in his hands and brushes away your falling tears. “Hey, it’s okay. Y/n, I promise you we’ll see each other again, okay? I promise.”

“But I just got you back,” you croak, and Ben can only offer you a trembling smile in return.

“There’s a time for us,” he reassures you, “it’s just not now.”

Ceaseless tears fall down your cheeks as you collapse into his arms, your hands clutching tightly at the fabric of his sweater the same way in which a small child would clutch at their favorite blanket. Ben is warm and safe, he is home, and your heart aches at the thought of having to say goodbye a second time— you could hardly handle the first. You had been inconsolable, your sobs had been gut wrenching for the rest of team, and if not for Allison urging you to eat and take care of yourself you might not have ever recovered from your grief. The universe was unfair and unkind, taking the person you loved away from you not once but twice, and despite how strong you wanted to be for Ben you couldn’t help but feel defeated.

“Will you kiss me while there’s still time left?” You snivel, holding on tightly to Ben’s wrist as he reaches up to cup your face and caress your cheek with his thumb. He smiles, sweet and tender, and pulls you close.

“I’ve waited seventeen years to kiss you again,” Ben professes, and without a second to waste he pulls you in close and presses his lips against your own in a long awaited kiss.

(Time is reversing. Five can feel the blood slowly seeping back into his body, bullet wounds seem to heal themselves and the corpses of his loved ones are beginning to reanimate as everything becomes undone. The pain is nearly gone, and it’s with a newfound determination that Five wills himself back onto his feet and travels back seconds in time to prevent their deaths, to prevent your death.)

You can feel yourself slipping away from him, you’re losing your grip, and despite how desperately you try to cling to him your touch is beginning to fade. Ben can faintly feel your lips against his own and knows that it’s time, but he holds onto you for just a little longer until he can’t feel you in his arms anymore. He pulls away with a bittersweet smile and releases you from his hold, eyes gazing at you for the last time.

“You get a second chance,” he says. “Make the most of it, and don’t worry about me. I’ll be here when you’re ready.”

(With a startled gasp Five finds himself back in time just moments before your deaths. Your eyes meet his his frenzied ones and you frown, gently reaching out to him.

“Five? Is everything okay?”

He doesn’t get the chance to answer before he’s disarming the Handler of her firearm, and it’s with that single act of defiance that your death is finally reversed.)

You don’t remember your death and you don’t remember your reunion with Ben. You’re none the wiser, and Five wants to keep it that way. With the Handler dead and the threat of the Swedes gone your life is no longer in danger, and he finally feels like he can breath again.

“You okay?” Your voice sounds gently, pulling the boy back to reality. He gazes upon your figure, wisps of stray hair straying from your braid and a questioning though kind smile on your face, and a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding leaves his lips at the sight of you. You don’t return his affections and you’ll never be together, but he can live with that so long as you’re safe and sound.

“Never been better,” he replies with a closed lip smile. You catch the boy off guard by pulling him into your side and giving his shoulder a tight squeeze, an act of affection only you can get away with, and after a moment has passed you release him with a small giggle.

“Come on,” you gesture as you begin to follow Vanya and the others, “we still have work to do.”

He walks beside you in a comfortable silence, and though he doesn’t know it there’s a faint voice that echoes distantly in your mind, one you can’t place but find soothing nonetheless.

“There’s a time for us.”

And there will be, but for now you’ll just have to wait and see.

[bowieandqueen11]

Hello, and Goodbye / Klaus Hargreeves Imagine

Request: How good was season 2 of umbrella academy! Can I request a Klaus x reader where he meets a young woman in the 60s and they fall in love. Only to have a heartfelt goodbye when Klaus has to travel back to 2019? 

Noooo @billhaderstrashbag​ I’m so EMOTIONAL RN <3

Warning, some strong language!

Comments and reblogs are really really appreciated!

Klaus always forgot how uncomfortable the ground was, until he was being shoved down onto it.

In his mind, when he rushed out of that muddy, dirty alleyway and straight into 1960s Dallas, everything would like a clean slate. The diner he had randomly chosen to run into, where no one knew who he was, and no one knew he had helped bring about the end of the world, he thought, would be vibrant, buzzing with young people so familiar and yet so different from him, and rock n roll would be playing on some crappy jukebox in the back. The servers would be in bright uniforms, likely on roller skates. Everything would be classic, refurbished and perfect. If only, he ended up thinking when he landed on the pavement, he had paid more attention during Reginald’s history lessons.

On bursting through the double doors his smile faded. The place was dingy, cluttered and smelt of old frying oil, the seat covers in the bays were faded red and ripped, and the servers had sneered at him almost immediately when he had slid into one of the booths.

‘You smell, and you’re chasing away all my customers pretty boy, so stay out!’

Landing in a dirty puddle, Klaus blows drops of water off his lips and watch them angrily fall back to the floor with a contemptuous shake of his head. He hated being wet, and he hated, more than anything, being left to fend for himself again.

‘Fine!’, he shouts resigned to the floor. He ignores Ben’s shaking head as he grimaces, rubbing his elbow as he pulls himself up to a sitting position. ‘Your food smells shit anyway, you couldn’t pay me to eat it!’

‘We’ve been here, what, twenty minutes and you’ve already pissed someone off. Nice going, dumbass.’

‘Oh shut your pie hole Ben, I’ve already been abandoned by enough family members today.’

‘Well hello there, stranger. You’re looking awfully crumpled down there. Need a hand?’

Klaus glanced up from where he was sitting on the floor, noticing first not the hand that had fallen down, outstretched to him in the first kind gesture he had received in, well, months, but the jewel on your finger instead. In the golden Dallas sunlight, it glittered like the sun-kissed ocean lapping the sands, and so he grabbed onto your hand, gently pulling it off your finger and snapping it shut in his palm as you graciously pulled him up.

The second thing, Klaus Hargreeves noticed, was how beautiful you were. He felt almost bad for stealing your jewellery, but as you smiled at him, all worries melted from his head and instead he found himself giving you a dopey, love sick grin in return. Ben, already seeing where this was going, only rolled his eyes and turned to walk off down the street.’

‘What would your name be, young man?’

‘Uh...Klaus! I’m Klaus, and I am delighted to meet you. Enchante.’ He wiggles his eyebrows as he kisses the back of your hand.

‘Hello there Klaus. It’s very wonderful, if a little odd, to meet you.’

~

The morning had broken like the sweet melody of a blackbird, full of promise, freshness and newness to come when you had woken up in Klaus’ arms this morning. Now it sat like a cold cup of coffee waiting to be drained away.

As soon as you stepped back into your home, and dropped the groceries off by the front table in the hallway, you knew something was wrong.

None of the lights were on, was the first clue, despite how late in the afternoon it was. Klaus had told you long ago about the number of times he was left to fend for himself in the darkness of his dad Mausoleum, and from then on at least one light was always left on in the mansion. 

Yet there he was, standing in the half-light of the living room, almost looking like the shadows he’d spent his whole life trying to avoid. Hunched over, you could already see his shoulders were trembling underneath his black trench coat, and you already knew, although you tried to shake the thought out of your mind as you stepped towards him, that your time was up. 

Pausing by the doorway for a moment, you let your eyes roam over him before he noticed you were there. You’d have to go in eventually, you know you did, but at least this way, before you placed your hand against his shoulder and broke him out of his nightmare, you had a few moments to prepare.

He shattered underneath your touch like fragments of stardust, lips quivering as he turns to you. Trying to put on airs, he fails to smile at you, his lips only slightly twitching in his usual half smirk. You can see it in his eyes, the ones that bore so desperately into your own, as he turns to grab onto your fingers, that he’s thinking of pleading, of begging, of getting down onto his knees and asking the universe why it won’t allow him to keep one good thing, anybody in his life that he loves more than himself.

Instead, you speak first, not allowing him the chance to crumble.

‘You have to go, don’t you.’

He doesn’t say anything, can’t find any of the right words to say to someone he loves this much. Instead he just allows his heart to ache in that familiar way it had since he was a child, that intimate knowledge and feeling of loneliness and heartbreak as he keeps scanning your face, trying to find anyway out of it this time. He wanted nothing from his life, nothing, no fame, no drugs, hell he would even take the ghosts, if he could just spend one more day in your company.

Eventually he lets go of your hands, biting his lower lip as he reaches into the back pocket of his black bell bottom jeans, pulling something easily out.

‘I was going to ask you to marry me, but I’m not sure we have time for that riggght now.’

His tone is a false cheery you can see right through, but what he couldn’t stop were the shaking of his hands as he holds the diamond out in front of you. The same one, you realise with a gasp, he had stolen from you the first day you had met. You had always thought, as you were pulled along in the tidal wave of this troubled young man, unknowable but all encompassing, that he had pawned it in order to find a better life for himself, for the two of you. The truth, in fact, hurt more.

Trying to collect your thoughts, you only cup his hand, letting the ring fall back into his palm, before gently cupping his fingers closed and just allowing him to tremble in your touch.

‘I would have loved to marry you. Keep it, but do me a favour? Don’t let me know when you’re going. This is the last memory I want to have of us - a happy one.’

‘But I don’t want to leave.’

His bright green eyes locked onto yours, and you could see then all the torment he had faced in his life, as if some ravaging storm had been encased within his soul. He opened his mouth as if to speak again, but only blubbered, trying to fight back his tears. Eventually, so uncharacteristically for him, he quietly managed to whisper, ‘please don’t leave me.’

Then the storm was let loose - the ocean started to leak, little water droplets streaming down Klaus’ rosy cheeks, burning so hotly against his skin in a way they hadn’t since he was ten years old, during Reginald’s first experiment.

‘Please don’t leave me alone again. I don’t want to go.’

‘Well I’m telling you that you have to. You trust me, right? Well I’m telling you, Klaus, my love, that I am not more important than the end of the world.’

Klaus bit his lip, eyes roaming over every piece of furniture in the living room to make sure they don’t connect with yours again. His body squirms against your touch as you pull his hands towards you and encase him in a hug, melting into your arms. His hand desperately clings onto your shoulder, the other pulling away to cup your cheek.

‘...What if you are to me.’

Slowly, and inevitably, you stand up onto your tippy toes and press your lips against Klaus’. It’s soft, and gentle, and familiar, but it’s filled with so much warmth, so much knowledge that you two were always meant to find each other, no matter when or where you were, that you belonged together, if only for a short while. It filled him with warmth, and calmness, tenderness spilling from his heart and rushing to every corner of his body, each inch of him saturated with a love that, yes, he may lose, but he was so glad he had even managed to find in the first place.

Eventually, you pull away and press your forehead against his for a moment, before pushing against his chest and letting him out of your grasp.

‘Goodbye, Klaus.’

[marmolady]

Reginald

Main Pairings: Aleister x Grace

Summary: Grace and Aleister’s baby boy celebrates his first birthday.

Word Count: 5578

Tagging: @saivilo, @edgydepressedchoicesthot, @sceptilemasterr, @greengroove @mauvecatfic​

Thanks for reading!

“Dada!”

Reggie, sitting up in his cot, waved his arms over his head. His cherubic face was full of delight from the moment his father opened the door. “Dada, up!”

“Time to get up? Yes, I think it might be.”

Aleister scooped his infant son into his arms. The way Reggie held onto him with his small hand, finding comfort in his simple being there, was still a heart-rending thrill.

“It’s a very special day today, my darling boy; do you know what it is?”

“Da!” came the happy squeak of reply. Reggie kicked his legs around happily; there was something that had gotten his father excited, and that good feeling was catching.

“Your very first birthday,” Grace cooed. “One whole year Reggie has been with us! Aren’t we lucky?” She reached and took a tiny waving hand and kissed it. Her eyes were heavy with rings; it had been so late that she’d waited up, hoping for a last-minute reply of some kind-- anything-- from her mother. Still, there was today… but Grace was left feeling, as she so often had, that hell would freeze over before Blaire acknowledged her grandson. There was a unique kind of tiredness that came with a long cry, and Grace was feeling it all over. But this was Reggie’s day; a celebration of the little boy who had quickly become the light of her life-- and Aleister’s. Today was for love and laughter.

The morning routine was as usual; Reggie was changed, then had a feed and cuddle, then the family sat down together for breakfast around the wooden table on their front porch. Iris, of course, was present for the meal, even though she couldn’t physically partake. So much of her own son’s life she’d missed out on, and she’d be damned if she wasn’t going to be right there cheering on her little grandson as he bravely tried new foods. The hole her untimely death had left in Aleister’s life couldn’t be healed; his childhood had been what it had been, and it gave what they had now, as a loving family, a certain poignancy.

Already, the sun was shining, and the sea sparkling. From their home in the Catalyst village just outside Elyys’tel-- now quiet and usually near-empty-- the family of four could look over the stretch of beach that would take them to a far smaller reincarnation of The Celestial, and hear the distant sounds of Vaanti life going on within the majestic tree just north of them. It was utterly peaceful. On his mother’s knee, Reggie contentedly gummed on a piece of toast, while turning his head to the sights and sounds of La Huerta, all around him. Today, his attention had been caught by a butterfly the size of a tea plate, as it landed on a nearby tree.

“Can you see it, Reggie?” Grace encouraged, pointing her finger. “Big, big butterfly.”

“Fuuh.” Reggie watched, entranced, as the butterfly flew away. “Buh-buh!”

Aleister beamed. It seemed that every day, his young son brought something new. There was so much that Reggie was learning-- soaking in the world around him like a sponge. Aleister couldn’t imagine he’d ever tire of trying to understand the world through Reggie’s eyes; the small things that caught his interest, the actions that made him smile.

“Bye-bye, butterfly!”

“Buh-buh, fuuh!” Reggie cried, his face lighting up as he realised his father understood what he was saying.

Grace kissed his soft, curly hair. “You are such a clever boy…”. Never; not ever, would she ever let it be that her little Reginald didn’t know how proud she was of him… how his every achievement-- however small a thing it was that brought him pride-- would be her happiness to share. He would know he was enough. Always. The thought brought with it another wave of tiredness, of longing for the approval she could tell herself she didn’t need, but still craved nonetheless. But, she told herself, as she had done again and again; Reggie was not missing out by his maternal grandmother being absent. It was better that Blaire Hall stay away than make contact only to cause harm. That kind of toxicity was not what Reggie deserved… and, Grace had to remind herself, it was far less than what she herself deserved too. As Reggie turned around to offer in return a much more slobbery kiss than the one he’d received, Grace couldn’t help but laugh her woes away for the time being. Reggie had that kind of magic effect about him.

  _______________________________

July 2022

 Grace gritted her teeth, and braced herself, curling her small frame inward.

“...you’ll at least consider having a termination, surely?…”

She panted, and her pants became painful groans as her body seemed intent on tearing itself apart. She could do this… she had to do this. Small pants, small pushes, the midwife had said. It was hard, everything in her body screamed to give more.

“...I didn’t pour a small fortune into your education for you to waste the best years of your life chained down with a baby…”

The midwife spoke, her voice coming to Grace as if through a fog, barely cutting through the pain that was now all-encompassing… and the gripping fear of failure, of falling short as she always, always seemed to.

“The head is delivered; now I need you to push really hard. Your baby is almost here.”

Aleister’s voice followed after… warm, and remarkably close to calm, though the way his hands trembled as he stroked Grace’s back gave away his nervous trepidation.

“Darling, you’ve been so strong… heroic. More than I’ve ever believed in anything… I believe in you now. And I’m here, Grace….”

A whimper escaped Grace’s lips. A split-second doubt in herself that flared up, borne of a habit of a lifetime. Panic that faith in her was being woefully misplaced….

“...I’ve become used to you disappointing me, Grace, but this… you’re not the daughter I thought I’d raised…”

With a guttural roar that made Aleister jump in surprise, Grace heaved, pushing down into her body with all her might. This, she was doing for herself. And she was going to kick labour in its ass while she was at it.

“Hold my hand!” she demanded, and Aleister did.

“Grace… you can do this, love.”

Her breath shuddered with the strain of labour, but then Grace’s jaw set with determination. “I know I can do this.”

A tiny, squalling bundle of baby emerged into the world, quickly gathered up by the midwife and placed on Grace’s chest.

“Congratulations! You have a healthy son!”

Aleister’s legs gave way, and it as only with the midwife’s timely assistance that he didn’t collapse straight to the floor.

“We… we have a son…,” he stuttered.

Dazed, Grace gently stroked the infant, their little boy. She’d done it. All those years she’d believed she wasn’t enough… and now there in her arms was indisputable proof that she’d been been sold a terrible falsehood.

“Our little baby…,” she murmured. “Hello, little one. We’ve been so looking forward to meeting you…”.

Any doubts in herself, in the future she’d have with her beautiful family, had washed away, expelled through the screams of a mother bringing forth a new life. As Grace’s senses returned to her, she breathed in her baby’s scent, marveled his perfect, bewildered face, and felt his heartbeat against her own… and she wept.

Aleister tenderly put his arms around her and kissed her damp forehead again and again as she laughed and cried, delirious.

“He’s amazing…,” Grace gushed through her tears. This moment… she had to hold onto it forever; let it be her strength.

No cruel words could reach her now.

  ______________________________

One-year-old children, Aleister had established, had refreshingly simple needs when it came to parties. Though there was a part of him that had been saddened that it wasn’t possible for the extended Catalyst family to be around for baby Reggie’s first birthday, that fact had meant that the occasion could be enjoyed without an excessive hullabaloo. One only had to utter the ‘p’ word around the likes of Raj and a feast would materialise… along with noise, and booze, and more than likely, a cupcake tower. The cupcake tower they’d deigned to keep, but the rest Aleister was quite happy to do without. What mattered was what would make little Reggie happy… even if that meant putting on the most undignified high-pitched sing-song voice he could muster. Again, thank god this thing was being kept small.

Diligently, he put out the necessary play-mats, picnic blankets, chairs, tables, and-- of course-- toys, for the small and simple first birthday celebration in the grass out front of the Rourke-Hall family home.

“What do we think, Reggie?” he asked, taking the time, as he always did, to engage his young son in whatever he was doing. “Not half bad, I’d say. A bit of shade… and perhaps we should bring out the bassinet for Liv, and I believe we’ll have a venue fit for a very special birthday boy.”

“Da!” Reggie cried from his bouncer, strategically placed so he could watch all the goings-on, and his father could in turn watch him.

“Thank you, I thought so. We may not have all the bells and whistles, but a little birdie told me there might just be some wrapping paper on the way… that is your favourite part of any gift, I know.”

Parenting had not been as hard a slog as Aleister had anticipated. Certainly, the broken nights’ sleep had been… less than pleasant, and the tinkling sounds of Reggie’s favourite musical toy were seared into Aleister’s mind, surely to torment him until his dying day; but throughout it all, he knew a most complete happiness, and somehow, he seemed to make his small son happy as well.

Reggie was an easy-going baby. For all that they had felt like torture, those nights of interrupted sleep were short-lived; Reggie settled into the routine with limited fussing. As the months went on, he spent far more time smiling than he did crying; in fact, once he’d started to become more mobile, he barely seemed to cry at all. A little shy with new people-- and overwhelmed by the sheer energy of the Catalysts all gathering together-- Reggie approached the world and people in it with wide-eyed curiosity, and one hand hanging on tight to one of his ‘safe’ people. Aleister was certain his son had inherited that amiable nature from Grace-- the alternative seemed… unlikely. Reggie’s joie de vivre was infectious; seeing that easy contentment, Aleister had to believe that he and Grace must have been doing something right.

  ______________________________

July 2022

 Aleister looked down at the tiny bundle in his arms, and a lump rose in his throat.

“I wonder if he’ll look at all like me,” he pondered out loud. “I think we’ve established that my father’s genes aren’t the strongest; Estela is the image of her mother and I… well, the cloning process must have been a long way south of perfect. I have his build but, to be honest, it ends there.”

Iris smiled. “I don’t doubt he will.” Her eyes sparkled cheekily. “I could go so far as to scan your resemblance, but I feel a mother’s word holds more value. I’d recognise that face anywhere. Baby Reginald Aleister is taking after his daddy.”

The baby grumbled, and a quick check determined that a diaper change was in order.

And so it begins.

Setting down a changing mat on the floor, Aleister’s hands trembled. Who was he kidding to think he was cut out for this? His experiences on the receiving end of parenting had only instructed him in what not to do, and he remained convinced, though Grace demanded otherwise, that he had all the warmth of a polar bear with hypothermia… eating an ice cream.

Noticing her son’s clear apprehension, Iris hovered closer. “It’s truly daunting to bring a child into the world. A whole little life… dependant on you.” She knew the regret would come through in her voice, but she’d always give Aleister honesty. He’d had precious little of that from the man he’d called ‘father’. “The only advice I can give is to break it down. Eighteen years of raising him doesn’t happen all at once… it’s small steps. Changing one nappy at a time.”

Aleister slowly went through the process, one that sounded so simple, but with the significance he placed upon it, it might as well be scaling Atropo.

“Would you believe I do actually know how to put a fresh nappy on a baby?” he said as he powdered Reggie’s bottom. “But I get down here and try to put it into practice-- the simplest of tasks-- and I’m completely hobbled by my own certainty that I’m bound to get it wrong. I don’t know if I’ll break this down small enough that I won’t be daunted. He’s… too important.”

“You mustn’t underestimate how powerful your own intent is. I know without a shadow of a doubt that you will always mind your son… you’ll never let his needs be lost. You love him, and if that’s guiding your path with him, I don’t believe you’ll go far wrong.”

Painstakingly, Aleister fitted a new diaper, adjusting and readjusting when he did it up too tight, and then not tight enough. With the adhesive worn out, he had to move on to a second. Finally, though, baby Reggie was changed, and one significant small step had been taken. With a sigh of release, Aleister got back to his feet, and with utmost care, picked up his son, whose eyelids were now heavy.

“I do appreciate your faith in me, Mother,” he said. “Truly, I do. But I cannot fool myself into believing that my best intentions will prevent me from inflicting harm on my son. We have all seen first-hand just what my best intentions can do.” When he looked up, Aleister saw such sorrow in Iris’ face; in her eyes was an aching desire to hold him-- something that could never be. He reached out his free hand, letting his fingers brush through the projection of hers. “The most terrible, most idiotic thing I’ve ever done was a decision made out of love. Arrogance as well-- I’ll never deny that. But all I wanted was to protect the woman I loved from something too horrifying to even comprehend.”

“My darling,” Iris whispered, “the fact that you care so much makes all the difference in the world. The people you love believe in you; all that’s left is for you to learn to trust yourself.”

Aleister sniffed. “Is that all? Just a bit of crippling self-doubt to conquer? I’ll have that polished off before lunch.” He smiled sadly. When he truly thought about it, he knew that he’d learned from his own mistakes-- the foolish certainty in his own being right, even in the face of those he trusted telling him otherwise. He’d taken their lives in his hands, well-intentioned or not, and they’d suffered for it. If they could all endure that stupidity and everything that came of it… and still manage to regain some belief in him, it seemed the lesson he needed to hear was to place his belief in them right back. “Well,” he said, “I certainly owe it to a lot of people, myself included, not to shy from that challenge.”

Iris’ eyes shone with pride and tenderness. “Reggie is going to have a wonderful father in you.”

And Aleister dared himself to believe it.

  _____________________________

“Reginaaaald!”

At the sound of the cry, Reggie pulled himself up onto his feet, holding onto his mother’s leg while he peered out to the direction of his aunties’ house down the way.

“Oh. Here come the rabble,” Aleister said, bracing himself. Farewell, peace and quiet. It was nice knowing you.

Grace giggled and took her son’s tiny hands. “Who’s that, Reggie? Is that Auntie Taylor?”

“Ah-tah!” Reggie proudly confirmed. “Yah-steh!”

“That’s right, Auntie Taylor and Tia Estela. Do you want to walk to see them?”

Reggie lurched forward, balancing against Grace’s hands as they guided him.

At seeing her nephew’s awkward goose-step in her direction, Estela paused her approach and hunkered down with her arms opened wide. “Look at you go!”

Coming up behind with tiny baby Liv strapped to her chest, Taylor enthusiastically cheered Reggie on.

The toddling infant shrieked with mirth, and his little legs worked all the harder, until Grace let him go, and he collapsed into his aunt’s waiting arms.

“Yah-steh!”

“Happy birthday, mijo!” Estela cried, lifting Reggie in the air and planting a kiss on his face while he giggled. “You are getting to be such a big boy!”

Taylor brought over the much-smaller Liv, who greeted her cousin with wide eyes. Six-weeks-old, she was beginning to take an interest in the people and goings on around her, and Reggie was about the most fascinating thing she’d ever seen.

“Happy birthday, Reggie!” Taylor said in a sing-song voice, gently waving Liv’s hand. The little boy squealed happily as he waved back, and his aunt grinned from ear to ear.

Estela angled Reggie closer so Taylor could properly greet him with a kiss and a tickle.

“I love you so much, sweetheart. Best. Nephew. Ever!”

“Ba-bee!”

“That’s right, Reggie…baaaay-by,” Taylor said, and she bounced Liv a little closer to her curious cousin. “Baby Liv has come to see you!”

Reggie gently bonked the smaller child on the shoulder, and she blinked at him in fascination.

“Ba-bee, ba.”

In no time at all, a picnic was laid out, and Reggie was merrily tucking into some soft pieces of fruit, and offering up portions to the members of the loving family who had gathered around him. He gave a jolly chortle as Aleister made a big show over just how delicious dragon-fruit was. To his right, his baby cousin was being fed, something that always piqued his curiosity. Liv was something he was still getting his head around. He’d seen other babies in Elyys’tel on occasion, but the fact that this particular baby seemed to be attached to his aunties, made her very interesting. Pouting slightly, he gazed up into his Auntie Taylor’s face as she fed a grumbly rumbly Liv. It didn’t look like he’d have any luck muscling in there… and he already knew that he did not want to make that baby thing start crying. Liv was far too loud for his liking.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Taylor cooed gently, reaching out her free hand to stroke Reggie’s cheek.

That small acknowledgement was all that was needed. Reggie hadn’t been forgotten, and he could get back to cheerily playing with the last scraps of his birthday lunch.

With lunch polished off, it was time for presents. The sight of the bright, colourful packages that Taylor pulled out from her bag made his eyes go wide. More big, crinkly paper? For him?

“This is from us… and this one is from Livi.”

Grace laughed and leaned over to give a fed and contented Liv a kiss on the head. “My word, you are a generous little lady! Thank you both-- so much. I can’t say what it means to us… for our special little boy to be shown so much love.”

By now, Reggie had some understanding of the way this ‘presents’ thing worked. A smiling grown-up would hand him a thing made of colourful paper, and his job was to rip it until something inside fell out. Then, the grown-ups would clap and cheer, and the paper would be free to be further ripped and crinkled and played with. It was a fun game.

Burbling happily to himself, Reggie tugged at the paper until he’d extricated the pesky thing inside, something soft and floppy.

“Oh, look, Reggie!” Grace exclaimed. “It’s Furball! Auntie Taylor must have been very busy sewing for you.”

“Thank heavens it isn’t a spear…,” Aleister muttered.

Estela smirked, her eyes glinting with mischief. “Yeah, I lost rock-paper-scissors. Reggie will get his spear next year. He’ll have stopped putting everything in his mouth by then, right?”

Lord, give me strength. This, Aleister now knew, was the price of family. But it was better, infinitely better, than being without.

  _____________________________

July 2022

 Taylor was a bundle of nerves, and if the uncharacteristic twitchiness was anything to go by, Estela was too. As if to reassure, but taking just as much comfort in return, Taylor grasped her wife’s hand.

“It’s okay, Taylor,” said Estela, softly. “I’m scared too.” She was scared of herself, how she’d feel when she walked in that room and saw Grace and Aleister with their perfect new baby boy. They didn’t deserve the most joyous day of their lives to be clouded by someone else’s envy and longing. Somehow, she and Taylor would have to forget just how much they’d been hoping for that magical day for themselves. Gently, she kissed Taylor’s brow. “Are you ready?”

With a deep breath, Taylor nodded. A piece of the family she’d dreamed of lay just ahead… she was someone’s aunt now, a fact almost incomprehensible when she looked back at what she came from. There was no way in hell she was going to let her own heartache take the shine off this day. “Yeah, I am. Let’s meet that little nephew of ours.”

Aleister opened the door, to find himself pulled straight into one of Taylor’s world-famous hugs. “I really should have braced myself for that, shouldn’t I?”

Estela laughed. The only other time she’d seen her brother so completely helpless in the face of a smile that just wouldn’t leave him was the day of Niala’rei when he’d been wed to Grace. That kind of happiness was impossible not to catch. “Don’t worry; you’ll soon be able to deflect her onto your son.” Oh, what the hell? She joined in the hug, putting both arms around her brother. “Congratulations, hermano!”

“Yes, yes, isn’t it wonderful, et cetera, et cetera…,” Aleister said as he found his way out of the three-way embrace. “If you’ll follow me, Grace and I have someone we’d like to introduce you to.”

Oh my god, Taylor thought to herself, as she trailed after her friend, he is practically skipping!

They came into the neat and tidy lounge room to find Grace gently rocking in the hand-carved nursing chair that had been a gift from Varyyn and Diego. In her arms… a small bundle, wrapped in a soft powder pink blanket.

Grace beamed as Taylor rushed forward, and had to hold back a laugh as her sister-in-law’s mouth fell open. “This is Reginald. Reginald Aleister Hall… but I have a feeling he’s going to go by ‘Reggie’ more often than not.”

“Grace!” Taylor gasped. “He is absolutely gorgeous… oh my god….”

“Isn’t he just? He wasn’t too sure about coming out, but I’m so glad he eventually decided to bless us with his presence. Isn’t that right, little man?” With a great deal of effort, Grace looked up from her newborn son, and noticed a wide-eyed Estela hanging back. “It’s all right; you can come closer.”

Estela swallowed hard. With the relationship she had with her uncle as close as it was, the thought of being someone’s aunt was… overwhelming. And she knew from that first look that she’d willingly move mountains for this kid.

“Hey,” Grace said warmly, “would you like a cuddle?”

Her heart in her throat, Estela allowed Grace to place the baby into her waiting arms. Reggie made a little squeak as he settled into the new embrace, then his body relaxed, safe and secure as his aunt held him. Holy shit. “I… can’t believe I’m his tia. I am so happy to meet you, mijo. You are gonna be so loved.”

Taylor brushed away a tear from her eye. “I think he already is! Oh god, the waterworks just aren’t stopping….”

Grace chuckled, totally content, and smiled as she watched Taylor gently kiss baby Reggie’s soft forehead. “It’s amazing. This kind of love… it’s just taken over my whole body. I can’t imagine feeling happier than this.”

Soft as a murmur, Estela hummed a gentle tune to the baby as she rocked him, and the smile on her face just grew broader and broader. It had cut her to her core to discover that she’d been fathered by the murdering bastard Rourke… and now that connection had given her the chance to be this little one’s aunt, to pay forward the loving care her uncle had lavished on her. There was not a shadow of a doubt in her mind; young Reggie would have his Tia Estela in his corner, ready to hold his hand through whatever life saw to throw at him. She sighed happily. “How about you meet your Auntie Taylor? If she gets any more excited she might just explode. We don’t want that, do we, chiquito?”

“Haha, very funny,” Taylor said, rolling her eyes. “But, yeah, I would love a cuddle.” She inhaled sharply as Estela eased Reggie into her arms. “Oh, little man! You are one handsome little tyke….”

Aleister watched proudly-- and catching himself from hovering too protectively. The way Reggie’s aunts looked at him… it was a look of adoring family. Love was something that little fellow would surely never need yearn for. “Yes,” he said, quietly, “he’s rather perfect.”

 ___________________________

 With full bellies all round, the birthday party had gone on pause for a couple of hours, allowing for desperately-needed naps to be taken. Reggie woke from his afternoon snooze to his home filled with lights and streamers, and even more friendly faces seemingly intent on showering him with affection. He wasn’t completely sure what to make of it all, but it sure was fun.

Birthday cake took the form of cupcakes, of course.

“Quinn Skyped us through the whole thing,” Diego explained. “Obviously, she really wanted to make something for Reggie herself, so we basically ended up being her cupcake-baking puppets.”

“Cupcake-baking, and frosting-licking,” Varyyn corrected. “Quinn was very right when she said that is the best bit.”

Grace smiled from ear to ear. “That was so kind-- of all of you!”

It had been a significant wrench for both herself and Aleister to see their friends return to the States after the reunion a month prior. Life didn’t stop; it couldn’t-- so much had already been upended, and the world outside La Huerta would keep turning, waiting for no one. Grace suspected her longing for her friends’ closeness was tied to the stirring of the wounds she carried over her relationship with her mother. Or… her lack of one. Time had done wonders in healing, but these moments she spent with her precious son had their way of making it so starkly obvious just what was missing. It couldn’t be changed, and she’d woken up that morning with the resolve to stop wasting her energy on wanting that change. Quietly, she re-directed her mind whenever it wandered into destructive territory.

The people who matter won’t let distance keep them from showing their care.

Aleister sunk into the couch and put an arm around his wife.

“That little fellow is going to be out like a night, come bedtime,” he said warmly, looking over Reggie as he toddled between friends with Diego holding his hands. “His legs have barely stopped moving since nap-time.”

Grace sighed happily and cuddled close. “He’d better be able to keep his eyes open long enough for the bedtime group call. Craig will be gutted if he doesn’t get to sing ‘Happy Birthday’.”

“I’m sure Craig would survive, but I have a feeling the sugar from those blasted cakes will see Reggie through just long enough.”

Reggie, indeed riding a slight sugar-high, was showing no signs of slowing down anytime soon. Everyone wanted his attention, and he was loving it. Varyyn, who was gently bouncing baby Liv in his arms, had made a point of wearing his crown; experience had taught him that the infants were mesmerised by the way the scarlet feathers danced on his head. Between staring up at the elyyshar with wonder, chasing around the colourful holographic projections Iris bounced around the floor, and cheekily prodding Estela into tickling him, Reggie had no shortage of entertainment in the form of his guests, but something from behind Taylor’s chair did catch his eye.

“So,” Taylor said as she pulled out a bulging sack of gifts, “we got left all this to surprise you with. I think everyone just went crazy with gifts; Reggie’s got a lot of love from all his aunts and uncles.”

In no time, Reggie was laughing fit to burst as he crawled through a sea of coloured paper; it was like some kind of wonderland… but emerged from it to see that, for some reason, his mother was… weepy. Concerned, Reggie awkwardly dragged the largest piece of paper he could find, then offered it to Grace as he hoisted himself upright using her leg.

“Mama?” It looked like she was… happy? Really, grown-ups were the strangest things….

Grace chuckled warmly and scooped up her boy. “You, young man, are such a lucky little guy.” She kissed him, and kissed him, and kissed him again, until he was once again giggling. Reggie, she knew, was not missing out on anything at all. Her worst fears would come to nothing; her son would forever be loved without conditions… and his mommy and daddy would just have to get used to the fact that they were too.

[itsthenovelteafactor]

Superhero Gothic

Thanks to everyone who responded to my previous post (special shoutout to @jeyfeather1234 💛 ) about superheroes and gothic media! I know it’s been, like, a month, but here we go.

Here’s a bit of a look into some common gothic themes, and how they apply to Doom Patrol, The Boys, Watchmen (2019), and The Umbrella Academy. This one’s a bit long, not gonna lie, but I hope you enjoy! 

Part I: Let’s Talk About Gothic Media

There is not actually an all-encompassing definition for gothic media, or even a universally agreed-upon one. You’re probably familiar with some well-known gothic works (think Dracula, Frankenstein, Edgar Allen Poe, Stephen King) but there is a lot of debate on what exactly makes them gothic. 

There are some common themes in gothic works, though: families/characters under the control of a tyrannical paterfamilias, the crumbling of the established order/estate, long-buried secrets that have consequences in the present, and supernatural events that are stand-ins for/reflective of the emotional state/past actions of the characters. 

(Note: these aren’t all the themes of gothic works or even most of them, but for purposes here, I’d like to limit this analysis to them. I’d love to talk about other themes/ideas, though, if anyone has them. 😊)

So… superheroes (quick overview in case you haven’t watched any of them… spoiler warnings for the rest of this discussion)

Doom Patrol:

Five misfit superhumans attempt to rescue their mentor figure when he is kidnapped by an old enemy.

They are very, very bad at it.

Also features a singing horse head, a sentient nonbinary teleporting street (who is by far the best character) and the narrator is the fourth-wall breaking series villain. 

Beautifully weird but will also emotionally devastate you. Criminally underrated, tbh.

Watchmen (2019):

Story takes place after the canon of the graphic novel which is too much to summarize.

Alternate history (that should really feel more fictitious than it does) where white supremacist organization the Seventh Cavalry, masked police officers, and former superheroes in hiding all collide in Tulsa Oklahoma

Swept the Emmys this year and ABSOLUTELY DESERVED TO

The Umbrella Academy:

Washed up former child superheroes are forced to reunite when their father dies under mysterious circumstances 

Time travel, dysfunctional siblings, and a killer soundtrack

Basically a family drama with the superhero story as secondary (complimentary)

Probably the most obviously gothic of all of these it is aesthetic AF 

The Boys: 

Superheroes exist but they are corporate sellouts under the control of evil company Not-Amazon (AKA Vought)

Regular human protagonists try to hold them accountable for their actions with varying (read: usually minimal) success

Yes, it’s the one from those weird ads earlier this year

Billy Joel!! 

Part II: Niles Caulder, Ozymandias, and Other Terrible Father Figures

The Tyrannical Paterfamilias: 

Does not always mean a father figure explicitly, often relating to the notion of a patriarchal tradition, or family inheritance that plays a role in controlling the main characters. 

Sometimes, it is a father figure. 

Sometimes, it is a representative of patriarchal tradition/male head of pseudo-family unit.

So, uh, role call: 

Reginald Hargreeves (even in death) holds power over his children, and has shaped all of them into the adults they have become, and that drives the majority of the conflict. Each of the major character individually grapples with the after-effects of his abuse. Luther feels the need to be the leader and protect everyone and alienates his allies as a consequence. Diego constantly asserts himself as a hero (often to dangerous extremes) because it is the only way he was ever valued. Allison has to teach herself boundaries and responsible use of her powers after he encouraged her to abuse them for years. Klaus turns to drugs to cope with his childhood trauma. Five disobeyed his father with disastrous consequences and is constantly fighting to not become him. Vanya spent her entire childhood in the background, and never learned to assert herself in a healthy way. Thanks, Reggie.

Homelander says that The Seven are like a family. While whether or not this is accurate (it isn’t) is up for debate, he does occupy the tyrannical paterfamilias roles incredibly well. Homelander controls every member of the Seven, threatening them and their loved ones whenever they step out of line (read: do not do exactly what he wants in the exact way he wants them to do it.) He is also very closely tied with conservative/patriarchal rhetoric in-universe and at one point dates a literal Nazi. 

William Butcher less evil than most of the other characters on this list but the bar is also like, on the ground. Butcher tries to control the Boys in a similar way (Butcher and Homelander are character foils, okay? it’s actually pretty neat). He’s perfectly willing to sacrifice them in pursuit of his own goals, disregards their points of view and the well-being of their loved ones, and tries to cut loose anyone who disagrees with his methods (recall when Hughie tried to rescue his friends at the end of s1 and Butcher… punched him in the face? Yeah, that.) The difference is that the Boys can push back against his without being, you know, brutally murdered. (And also the Butcher isn’t a literal monster; I’m not anti-Butcher, okay? He’s an interesting character and the fact that he seems constantly on the verge of becoming that which he hates most is part of what makes him interesting.)

Guess what, folks? It’s hating Niles Caulder hours. He engineered accidents to turn the main characters into his test subjects, and then kept them conveniently hidden away in his large manor. Stole their autonomy and independence but paints himself as a benevolent father figure. And that’s not even including what he does to his actual daughter, Dorothy. He’s terrified of her growing up (read: becoming a young woman) and so he locks her away for almost 100 years and, when she is freed, yells at her constantly and makes her terrified of showing any signs of maturation (even though she’s 111 and clearly tired of being written off as a child).

The relationship between Ozymandias and his daughter, Lady Trieu, is integral to the final act of Watchmen. Heralded as the “smartest man in the world,” Ozymandias refused to acknowledge his daughter as his until he needed something from her. While Lady Trieu is more self-sufficient and independent than some of the applications of this trope, she goes to great lengths to prove herself, first to him, and then to herself when he rejects her.

Part III: Been a Long Time Gone (Constantinople) 

Gothic fiction is often associated with change, and particularly, the collapse of established systems of power. For example, many works like The House of the Seven Gables and The Fall of the House of Usher take place in old, crumbling manor houses. There is a reason for this! These kinds of estates are remnants of a past that is irreversibly gone, and their continued presence in decrypt forms serves as a reminder. 

Each of the four series takes place at a moment, either on a wide scale or on a personal scale (or both!), in which an established order is being questioned, and the constant reminders of that failed order are used to gothic effect.

The Umbrella Academy plays this most directly (In fact, there are TONS of parallels between the end of s1 of TUA and House of Usher that I don’t have the time to get into right now... lmk if you want that meta). We can see the Hargreeves mansion as a very literal example of this. While not worn down, the house is notably both very large and very empty. Shelves are filled with merchandise for a superhero team that disbanded over a decade prior, and portraits of a family that no longer speaks to each other. None of the family members ever seem truly comfortable or at ease in the house, and for good reason - every back corner is a reminder of their incredibly traumatic childhood. 

In The Boys, the story begins with the fridging death of the main character’s girlfriend, Robin, at the hands of a member of the Seven, a group of heroes so ingrained in the public consciousness that when they later hide out in a costume shop, literally every single costume is for one of Vought’s heroes. The Seven represent the system in power, which, at the disposal of Not-Amazon means corporate greed, shallow altruism, and the cultivation of public personas at the expense of actual humanity. 

From that moment on, the sheer presence of The Seven on everything from public billboards to breakfast cereal is a remainder for Hughie (and the audience) that this established system doesn’t work and is based on lies, which serves this effect on a personal level. In the broader scale, however, we also see that the Seven themselves are fracturing under an unsustainable business model. Even their name, “The Seven” starts to seem a bit dated when halfway through season one through the end of season two there are notably... less than seven of them. 

The main characters in Doom Patrol are all in recovery after the accidents that irreversibly changed their lives. We see through flashbacks the people that they used to be, and the difference is striking. They were each established in their own elements: Cliff a famous race-car driver, Rita a world renowned actress, Larry a hero pilot, Jane was involved in counter-cultural movements, Vic was a student and athlete. The foundations upon which their worlds were established are completely decimated by the accidents, and now they (save Vic and sometimes Jane) live mostly in isolation in Niles’ manor house, an estate that is far larger than would be necessary to comfortably house a group of their size.

And you feel the emptiness, both in the manor, and in the lives of the characters. They have barely created a shadow version of their own existence when the series starts, so fragile that a simple trip into town devolves into utter chaos. 

Angela Abar of Watchmen has also constructed a life following the terrifying act of terrorism on the White Night. It’s a bit of a double life, and we see that the balancing act is challenging for her, even before the story truly begins. The death of Judd Crawford, and the revelation about him that follows is not only traumatizing on a personal level (but it definitely is that), but also upsets her understanding of the world. People she’s come to trust are not just dishonest but truly monstrous. And the more Angela learns about what has been happening, the more her understanding of the world begins to unravel. Her memories, and the memories of those around her are cast in a much more sinister light, and the effect is genuinely chilling. 

Part IV: “I’m the Little Girl Who Threw the Brick in the Air”

In episode 3 of Watchmen, Laurie contacts Dr. Manhattan on the cosmic phone booth to tell him a joke. It’s a version of what TVTropes calls the “brick joke,” and it relies on set up taking place early on, other stuff happening, and then the response coming at an unexpected moment. 

So, yeah. Events of the past/buried secrets resurfacing with consequences in the present.

Continuing with the theme from Watchmen, the entire series is punctuated with the way the past and the present intertwine, with elements from both the original Watchmen graphic novel, and actual American history. One of the things we talked a lot about in my gothic lit class was the manner in which the overhanging specter of past atrocities casts a shadow over the present, and how many works cannot help but have gothic themes because there are so many horrifying things in the past that cannot be ignored, and provide both context and nuance for the discussions we have in the present. No series tackles these topics quite so directly (and with as much care) as Watchmen. (note: it does not always make for easy viewing, but if you’re in a place where you feel like you can engage with that kind of material, I highly recommend the show.)

In Doom Patrol, the past actions of the characters very much control the storyline (see: previous discussion of Niles Caulder), but the character whose storyline I want to talk about here is Rita (partially for plot reasons and partially because I just love Rita, okay?). We learn when we first meet Rita that in the past she was... not a great person. We know that the trauma of the accident that gave her her powers has changed her, we also know that she still holds on to the guilt and that her guilt has limited the scope of her world for years, but we don’t know what exactly it is that she’s done. 

Enter Mr. Nobody, all-powerful narrator who is not just aware of Rita’s greatest sins, but perfectly capable of manifesting reminders of them into the story. She is confronted with empty cradles, and the sound of crying children in the background of many scenes and we see how much it effects her, without a full understanding of why it does (see: The Tell-Tale Heart). Her past begins to haunt her physically, and she begins to crumble in response to it, until finally she is forced to confide in a stranger (and thus the audience). The past actions do not just inform the audience of Rita’s character - they show up to influence her behavior in the present. 

The ending of The Umbrella Academy season 1 is super evocative of the gothic genre with Vanya breaking open the soundproof chamber (wherein she was silenced for years) and rising from the basement to destroy the last remnants of the Hargreeves legacy (which would be awesome if the last remnants of the Hargreeves legacy didn’t include the rest of her family). Pretty much every mistake the siblings make over the course of the season feeds together to create the finale, but the primary cause isn’t something any of them actually did. It all ties back to Reginald Hargreeves’ complete inability to be nice to children. Any children. His own and random strangers that need help. 

In The Boys, while the extent to which people are making f-ed up choices in the present cannot be expressed enough, we see through the characters of Homelander that many of the present difficulties are a result of past mistakes. Particularly, the profit-seeking corruption within Vought. We learn in s1 through Vogelbaum that Homelander was raised in a lab by Vought as an experiment, only to be unceremoniously thrust into the spotlight and told he was a superhero (which... does not justify a single one of his actions but is still a major yikes). As the head scientist of the project, Vogelbaum is very aware that ignoring his conscious if the name of research has essentially created the biggest threat their world has ever seen. 

(Seriously y’all just stop raising your super kids in isolation) 

Part V: Put Them Together, and They’re the MF-ing Spice Girls 

Having the environment respond to characters’ emotions/mental states is pretty common in gothic works (it was a dark and stormy night = someone is probably not doing super well). One of the advantages of the genre’s tendency towards the supernatural is that, often, those elements of the stories, as well, are reflections of the main ideas of a work of fiction (see: Stephen King’s really unsubtle period metaphors).

Because all of these shows have a ton of supernatural/scifi elements by virtue of being, well, superhero shows, I thought it would be easier (and more fun!) to come up with a short list of elements, what they mean, and what cases they might apply to.

1. A Nonlinear Experience of Time

The Umbrella Academy: legitimately about time travel. Characters are attempting to fix the timeline but are unable to because they are both mentally and sometimes literally stuck in the past. 

Watchmen: In the episode This Extraordinary Being, Angela experiences firsthand the experiences of her grandfather, under the influence of a drug called Nostalgia. The episode touches on many themes, one of which being the impact of generational trauma in marginalized communities. Throughout the series, Dr. Manhatten is cursed with experiencing all time at once, and the episode A God Walks into Abar illustrates that, because of this, he is constantly facing the consequences of particular actions before, after, and while he is preforming him.

Doom Patrol: Mr. Nobody is able to physically travel to one of Jane’s flashbacks via his fourth-wall breaking powers, and gives Dr. Harrison an ultimatum for the future. 

What it implies: Events, particularly events that evoke guilt or conflict, are not as rooted in the past as one would like to think.

2. Powers/Abilities that reflect personal trauma/failings

Doom Patrol: Larry’s abilities/bond with the Negative Spirit have made it so that he is constantly covering himself with bandages/avoiding other people, which reflects his experiences having to hide his identity as a gay man in the 50/60s. Rita forced herself to walk a thin line, betraying everything in pursuit of her image; her abilities require constant effort to keep her entire body from becoming misshapen and out of control. Vic’s father with boundary issues can literally control his perception of the world through his cybernetic enhancements. Dorothy’s abilities manifest as imaginary friends because she was kept isolated for years at a time. 

The Umbrella Academy: pretty much all of the kids’ powers are representative of the interpersonal skills they were never able to develop. Luther is super-durable but also the most emotionally vulnerable of the group. Five can teleport and time travel but always seems to be too late to stop things. Diego can manipulate the trajectory of projectiles but cannot escape the path his father set out for him, not matter how much he resents it. Vanya always forced herself to stay quiet until the sound literally explodes out of her.

The Boys: Annie’s abilities allow her to control light, but she struggles (in the beginning) to bring to light the horrible things done to her behind closed doors. 

Watchmen: Not technically a power, but Looking Glass’ mirror-mask is a constant reminder of the hall of mirrors that both saved his life and traumatized him forever. 

What it implies: from a story perspective, these allow for an exploration of trauma/guilt to occur on a scale much larger than people simply talking about their problems (as if anyone on any of these shows knows how to talk about their problems...) It also means that the trauma/guilt of the characters takes on a physical form that is able to haunt them, and constantly remind them/hold them accountable for their past actions.

3. Diluted Sense of Reality:

Doom Patrol: The first season is narrated by its main villain, and throughout the season we see that the act of narration itself has an impact on the story.

Watchmen: The event that kicks off the plot of the story is hinged upon a paradox introduced by Angela near the end of the series when trying to speak to her Grandfather in the past through Dr. Manhattan.

The Umbrella Academy: The pair of episodes in season 1, The Day that Wasn’t and The Day That Was take the same point in time and explore two possible avenue for the future from there, with The Day that Wasn’t ending with the events of the entire episode being completely erased from the timeline.

What it implies: you can’t necessarily trust everything you see, even from the audience perspective, giving them a position not unlike that of the characters. The character’s uncertainty and confusion is magnified and reflected in the world that surrounds them.

Other examples: an apocalypse (The Umbrella Academy, Doom Patrol, Watchmen (of a sort)), ghosts (The Umbrella Academy - hi, Ben!), immortality/invulnerability (Watchmen, Doom Patrol, The Boys), and characters that look significantly younger than they actually are (The Boys, The Umbrella Academy, Doom Patrol). 

Part VI: Why Did You Write a Literal Essay Don’t You Have Real Schoolwork (yes... shhhhh...)

And... there you have it. I don’t really have some grand conclusion here. This is (clearly) far from a complete analysis but it is the most my finals-week brain can concoct at the moment. 

If you have other ideas, let me know! You can always add to the notes or message me – my inbox is always open!  If you got this far, thank you so much for taking the time to read this! Much love! ❤️

[polyfacetious]

kingofdirtandnothing said:

Exulansis: The tendency to give up trying to talk about an experience because people are unable to relate to it.

He couldn’t say when his life swerved well away from his siblings’ understanding. Couldn’t tell you when sympathy and worry for the nights he was dragged out of the house after dinner to sleep in a mausoleum became eye rolls and groans of annoyance at “Klaus being Klaus”.

Klaus is mostly sure he only started drinking and smoking after dad’s version of “immersive therapy” started.

He’s also mostly sure his siblings think of ‘ghost’ and picture something cute, like Casper. Or a specter wearing a white sheet. They don’t imagine cracked skulls, broken necks, and gut wounds. They don’t hear screams or voices begging for help.

And if they can’t get it. He knows no one he meets in 1960 will, either. So he embraces the image of the Prophet. And when they catch him speaking to the air, he tells them it’s not madness, it’s prayer.

              Bless their innocent little souls, they believe him.

He can’t be sure if it’s three years of that charade, or the fact that he actually manages to stay sober through all of it. But the dead get quieter, and quieter, and he has a type of control that he never really had before the mausoleum. 

And maybe it has something to do with the last conversation he had with his father. When Reginald actually peeled some of the frosty layers off his cold dead eyes and let Klaus see a little further beneath the surface. When he spoke of wasted potential that led to the discovery of new abilities.

It’s the nearest thing to closure that he thinks he’ll get, where old Reggie is concerned, and unlike some of his siblings, he’s neither interested nor afraid of getting any more of it.

So, when a younger Sir Reginald Hargreeves storms into the Tiki Lounge, and his siblings all fall into a silent and old formation, years shaved off even Five as they all take a seat, Klaus takes his time ordering a drink.

He joins the table in the midst of their father’s tirade with a dishonestly sheepish “Hey, Pop, how’s it hangin’?” and earns a scathing look from Five.

Whoops.

Five takes point, and it’s a little humbling to see how even he looks nervous when confronted with their father, but Klaus is more than happy to keep quiet and let the others do the talking.

Ben tries to nag him into letting him join the conversation, and Klaus shuts him up with tired impatience, waving daddy on when he turns those eyes on him.

But of course, a demonstration of their special abilities is in order, and Diego breaks first. And Reggie reacts as they all should have known he would, by writing shit down and mocking Number Two as easy and naturally as breathing.

Five’s power gets his attention, though. And of course it does. Reggie was always fascinated with his ability, going so far as to urge caution instead of pushing him mercilessly to his limits. (With good reason, as it turned out, though all it did was push Five to recklessness).

The rundown leaves him with no reason to explain or demonstrate, though Vanya is eager to show what she can do, and once the instinctive fear at the memory of the last time he saw her use her powers falls away with an explosion of fruit all over his favorite shirt, Klaus finds himself amused and endeared by Vanny’s little ‘oops’.

(She’s so much more confident, without the weight of the past on her shoulders. Ready to laugh, and dance, and offer her opinion. It’s nice, to see her as close to happy as he’s ever seen Vanya be.)

And then...then, Diego cuts to the chase. He even keeps his cool when dad tries to bring up his time in a mental hospital, tossing at him the proof he’s carried in his pocket since this started, as close to damning evidence as they could get.

“Well...I suppose you’ve solved it.” Diego doesn’t see it yet, but Klaus can feel his stomach begin to turn. “You’ve single-handedly unearthed my nefarious plot. Is that what you want to hear?”

Fuck.

Klaus doesn’t have to look at his brother to see the confidence bleed out of him as their father tears him down, piece by piece, with carefully chosen words that hit their target with the same supernatural accuracy that Diego himself has.

“You fancy yourself a do-gooder? The last good man who will save us from our descent into corruption and conspiracy?” Klaus’ brow furrows, his chest tightening as he all but hears Diego begin to crumble. But Reginald carries on. 

“This is a fantastic delusion. The sad reality is that you’re a desperate man, tragically unaware of his own insignificance, desperately clinging to his own ineffectual reasoning.” Out of the corner of his eye, Diego slowly sinks back into his chair, and Klaus swallows thickly. 

“More succinctly; a man in over his head.”

Klaus closes his eyes, but it’s the whisper of breath next to him as Diego struggles to answer that finally makes him snap.

“You’re wrong.” His words fall over Diego’s, and those cold eyes he remembers so clearly focus on him once again.

“Sure, we’re all fucked up, but you wanna know why? Because I can tell you it didn't happen naturally.” He grins, all teeth, and it reaches nowhere near his eyes. 

“You want to talk about delusions of grandeur, you should take a look in the mirror, Pop.” He can hear a warning hiss of his name from Five, but Klaus is way past caring.

“You’re the one who took it upon himself to spirit away seven babies and treat them like the science experiment that would save the world.” Klaus almost wishes he could stand and make this a bold declaration, shout it from the rooftops, but he’s filled with the same detached exhaustion that he felt when he sat on that barber chair.

“Everything you see in us, you put there. You trained us to believe we were extraordinary, you shamed us for any inkling of us that tried to be human, and you made us believe we were meant to change the world.”

Klaus tosses back his drink, and lets the glass clink sharply on the table.

“And guess what?” He laughs, holding out his arms to encompass all of them. “It all went to shit! And when you failed, you saw no better way to rally the troops than to k—”

“Klaus!” Five’s voice cuts him off.

His jaw clicks shut, and a heavy silence falls over the table as his staring match with this mirage of their father continues on for an uncomfortably long beat.

Before Reginald can think to assuage any curiosity his words may have brought on about the future, Five keeps talking, and Klaus looks back at his empty glass, and falls away from the conversation.

This Reginald Hargreeves doesn’t know them. He has no history with them. And he doesn’t have the faith in their importance that the man they knew did.

There’s nothing they can say to him that will make him want to help, or even believe that they can make a difference either way.

There’s no point.

[fanfictionquotess]

Rec List: The Umbrella Academy

Part 1  Part 2 I’ve been hit hard by cupid’s arrow and fell in love with The Umbrella Academy. It’s all I’ve been reading this past week. So, I’ve decided to start compiling my rec list now.  Everything listed in this rec list are gen fanfics.  I most likely will only ever read gen fanfiction for this fandom (unless I see a particular Klaus x Dave or Agnes x Hazel fic that catches my interest). In addition, this list only includes completed works. I’m also going to include an all encompassing drug-content warning because Klaus Hargreeves. 

Total Fics Recommended Thus Far: 26 This is my second Rec List, so feel free to let me know what you think of the formatting and whether or not I need to make adjustments (like splitting it up into two parts bc this is more than I expected). 

As always, my inbox is open to rec list requests.

 Is the sadness everlasting? (love, I think it is) by ArmedWithMyComputer

Words: 3161   Chapters: 2    Post-S1

Summary:  A look into what Klaus' newly discovered ability could mean for the siblings.

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Things Aren’t Quite the Same by oscarwildechilde

Words: 6632   Chapters: 1   Pre-S1

Summary: Ben reads to Klaus when the dead get too loud for him to beat. He’s always there for him, and always will be.Ben and Klaus’ friendship and the start of Klaus’ problems.

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Simpler Times by  bucketbarneslove

Words: 5181   Chapters: 1    Pre-S1

Summary: On one of the last nights that the Hargreeves siblings get to be anything close to normal, Klaus suggests they have some fun. His idea? Heading over to the 24/7 doughnut shop and getting absolutely trashed on sugar.

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Ghosts of You(th) by SilvertonguedClotpole

Words: 10,110  Chapters: 1    Post-S1, e10 au

Summary:  It was a mausoleum, and right now it was probably the best chance they had at hiding from those chasing them. But of course, a mausoleum isn't just a mausoleum to Klaus. It was a hell. And his siblings were about to see a true glimpse of what it was like being Klaus Hargreeves.

When they're forced to hide in the cemetery, the siblings get more than they bargained for when they have to fight to remain hidden, and fight to keep their brother from toppling over the edge.

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For the Record by aye_of_newt

Words: 3645   Chapters: 1  Post-S1, e10 au 

Part 1 of Vague AU

Summary:  Diego finds Klaus' police record.

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I know That Everyone Gets Scared by MidnightRavenFromTheClock

Words: 2945   Chapters: 1  

Summary:  What if the Hargreeves siblings did a little better?

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Some have names but most do not (If you find one, please let me know what piece I've lost) by  Brain_Brainson

Words: 3235   Chapters: 1    Post-S1

Part 1 of  Real Names, Fake Names, Chosen Names

Summary:  Five has only been around for a week but already Klaus won’t leave him alone.“You need a name,” he says, hanging upside down from the couch.

“I have a name,” Five says.

Comments: Did anyone say Non-binary!Five?

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I've been searching for my Father (I can not explain why he grows old) by  Brain_Brainson

Words: 5481  Chapters: 1    Post-S1

Part 3 of  Real Names, Fake Names, Chosen Names

Summary:   Despite being the perfect fairytale villain, Five doesn't actually hate their Dad.

Comments: Somehow I missed p2 and need to rectify that immediately In all likelihood it’ll also be recommended.

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Secrets I have held in my heart (are harder to hide than I thought) by  Brain_Brainson

Words: 7732  Chapters: 1      Post-S1

Part 4 of  Real Names, Fake Names, Chosen Names

Summary:  Your Family is caught up in some emotional bullshit and everyone is ignoring each other and it’s making you feel things you don’t wanna feel?Well, what the fuck do you do then?

Comments: I really love their portrayal of Luther.

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Something of a Success by magikfanfic

Words: 3130  Chapters: 1     Pre-S1

Summary:  Klaus is the first to know.

Comments: CW for Major Character Death. In particular, our boy Ben.

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A Little Family Bonding by dirkygoodness

Words: 1954   Chapters: 1

Summary:  Each and every one of them flaked on world-saving as soon as it was out of his mouth.So instead of getting up and being productive Five jumped down to the local liquor store and stole two bottles of whiskey for himself. If everyone else wasn’t going to give a shit, then maybe he’d give it a try too.

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Whatever It Takes by Galliumite

Words: 1033   Chapters: 1   e10 spoilers

Summary:   A One-shot in which the probability map in episode 5 of the show gives a name that Five doesn't want to see. And that leads Five to responding to Luther's threats towards Dolores slightly differently.

Comments: An interesting AU idea. 

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Ordinary by Fourfivesix

Words: 987  Chapters: 1   Pre-S1

Summary:  Klaus wishes he was ordinary like Vanya.

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The Boy At The End Of The World by Devilbaby

Words: 2093  Chapters: 1

Summary:  There's no crying in the apocalypse; water is too valuable a commodity to be wasted on tears and sorrow. The world didn't care about his suffering, so neither did he.

A character study about Five, why he is who he is and why he does what he does.

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Your Father Isn’t Here by GiuGiu

Words: 2388  Chapters: 1    Pre-S1

Part 2 of TUA Kid Fics

Summary:  “We wanted to be bird feeders.” Number Four grinned, leaning over to pick a chia seed off of Number Six’s ear.

“Like the one we made during crafts.” Number Six elaborated, pushing his brother’s hand away from his face. Grace had used last week’s recreation time to make peanut butter bird feeders with her children. She had carefully written the report asking for permission, justifying her choice with data about gross motor skills and basics of biology instruction.

This had not been in her contingency report. She would need to be more thorough next time.Or, raising seven four-year-olds while having limited free will isn't easy.

Comments: Grace-centric and beautifully written.

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Just In Case by starsandsupernovae

Words: 1171   Chapters: 1

Summary:   Vanya and Five are kids and it's cute and happy and then it's not

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Blood Like Lemonade by Ford_Ye_Fiji

Words: 2860  Chapters: 1

Summary:  Hunting high and low to seek revenge, Brand new moral code, got made reluctant renegade. Leaving empty souls when he avenged, Evil spirits flowed he drank the blood like lemonade.

-Five's sordid past comes to light in, quite possibly, the most unpleasant way

Comments: Really cool idea to explore, personally.

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breathe in, exhale (the blood flood) by doc_boredom

Words: 852  Chapters: 1

Summary:  Diego Hargreeves held his breath and counted to five. Not second by second like a normal person would, but minute by minute, until his lungs threatened to explode.

-Also known as Diego Hargreeves carved my heart from my chest and I let him do so willingly.

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show me how to struggle gracefully by Karturtle (karturtle)

Words: 3197   Chapters: 1  Post-S1

Part 1 of you ask me where i've been(like i ask you where you are)

Summary: Ben watches his family as it heals, and starts to do a little healing himself.

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love you without any strings attached by Karturtle (karturtle)

Words: 4739   Chapters: 1  Post-S1

Part 2 of you ask me where i've been(like i ask you where you are)

Summary:   Ben and Klaus have been a pair ever since Klaus was old enough to drag his brother into mischief.

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I’ll never dance again by The Séance (TheHavok)

Words: 322   Chapters: 1

Summary: ONE SHOT, Klaus Hargreeves badly dealing with losing his lover.

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bright by classyfanperson

Words: 1133   Chapters: 1    Pre-S1

Summary: There's no reason Klaus can't have pretty things, even if he has to steal them.

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Every Mountain You Climb Takes Me Further Away by siriuslyrose

Words: 3061  Chapters: 1   Pre-S1

Summary:  In 1989, Sir Reginald Hargreeves adopts seven babies from around the world. By 2007 only one remained.

They all left for slightly different reasons. But for all six of them it was The Monocle that forced them out the door. Ironically, he was also the reason his Number One never follow them.

This is the story of how the Umbrella Academy went from Six (Seven) members to One.

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Elide by Willowcatkin

Words: 484    Chapters: 1

Summary: And even when her home crumbles to nothing around her, no one will hear it. Debris born from grudge that stems deep into its foundation falls. Rocks and ash drift like stardust, muffling and soft like sound through water. The walls that used to block out the notes, amplifying them and distorting their intricately crafted meanings, collapse and fold like the delicate flutter of a butterfly’s wings.  

Comments: One of my personal favorites. I always love characters studies written with such nicely flowing prose.

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And Then There Were None by friedlieb_ferdinand_runge

Words: 1005  Chapters: 1

Summary:   They were all broken in the end.

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if you must mourn (don’t do it alone) by AndreaLyn

Words: 2120  Chapters: 1

Summary:  They're putting the grief in Hargreeves.

or “How the Hargreeves family moved on (except for the one who refused)"

[billiegourd]

A Misty Silver Drizzling Morning - Padmasambhava's Teachings of Life, Death and Rebirth

Hello, respectable one! Perceive that you are in the between. Presently, since the existence cycle is in suspension, everything sunrise as lights and gods. All space first lights loaded with purplish blue lights...pure reality show in inconspicuous, amazing dreams, strikingly experienced, normally terrifying. Don't fear...you can't kick the bucket. It is sufficient just to perceive such dreams as your very own discernments. - Tibetan Book of the Dead (The Great Book of Natural Liberation through Understanding in the Between, Sogyal Rinpoche trans.)  LCA

Dreading demise, I went to the mountains. Again and again, I mulled over death's erratic coming, and took the fortress of the deathless, constant nature. Presently I am past all dread of biting the dust!- - Milarepa

On a delicately coming down dim morning at the Pacific Asia Museum in Pasadena, 2006, I heard Thondup Tulku educate about the bardos, the go-between stages, "the among" death and resurrection. Once in hospice, I realized a Buddhist who needed The Tibetan Book of the Dead to be perused to him in his perishing (additionally a bardo: the "among" biting the dust and last passing). He felt it would "assist him with accomplishing freedom." This book is said to have been composed by Padmasambhava who carried Buddhism to Tibet. Karma Lingpa discovered this "treasure" in the fourteenth century.

Accounts of Padmasambhava's life give me the certainty that incredible power can emerge with the act of Buddhist contemplation and that power is intended to be utilized to benefit humankind. Said to be a spread of Buddha Amitabha, Padmasambhava made a trip from India to Tibet to present Tantric Buddhism. He was said to beat strong devils. His buddy, the abbot Santarakshita, brought the sutras and good statutes of the Buddha from India. Padmasambhava was welcome to Tibet by King Trisong Dessen around 750 C.E.

There was a workmanship presentation in 1998 at the Hungtington Art Museum which included an amazing thanka of Padmasambhava, with a little scaled Buddha Amitabha above him. Padmasambhava is delineated with His Eight Forms, speaking to eight snags that Padmasambhava defeated in his own otherworldly arousing into shrewdness, empathy and a comprehensive awareness. These Eight structures are lessons for the understudy to know their specific impediments to full otherworldly arousing. Buddhism instructs me that I should encounter straightforwardly positive sentiments about myself as well as the afflictive feelings inside me of outrage, profound forlornness, remorse, jealousies, feelings of disdain, and perniciousness. Padmasambhava is a brilliant illustration of the genuine master showing direct edification to his understudies through an act of good purging and committed reflection.

Padmasambhava, the incomparable Buddhist yogi of the tantras, or recondite practices, is brilliantly painted on the cotton thanka, with profound misty mineral shades in water based collagen, reds, golds, blacks, grays, blues, pearls, greens, oranges. He sits with preeminent pride and feeling of profound achievement, wearing a red robe. He's perched on a lotus which is by all accounts rising, turns in ceremonial positions, right hand holding the vajra, symbolizing the interminable idea of essential fact of the matter, indestructible as a jewel of precious stones. He's encompassed by his different structures, different Buddhas and consorts. His left hand holds a skull cup; passing is available. An adroit's staff inclines toward his left shoulder.

Padmasambhava was a lord himself in India, however chose to leave his customary social ways, as high class as they were, to seek after what might remove his inclination disappointed with life. He started to see profoundly the temporariness of life. He pondered in numerous charnel grounds. When Padmasambhava was an educator in Tibet, he showed "defensive" powers which permitted the Dharma, the lessons about the finish of affliction and the importance of genuine satisfaction, to be built up as the predominant religion of Tibet. He was said to have the option to "survive" the satanic impacts of viciousness and strife. Padmasambhava showed supporters; deciphered Buddhist writings from Sanskirit into Tibetan. He meandered all through Tibet, with his dearest partner, Yeshe Tsogyal who recorded his lessons.

Evaluating that the instructing of the Dharma in Tibet was satisfied, Padmasambhava chose to live his last days on Yak-Tail Island, southwest of India where he placated the local man-eaters. Through his extraordinary yogic forces, sympathy, and immaculate reflection practice, he showed his understudies to defeat all dread by living in his "Royal residence of Lotus Light," the experience of the Eternal.

The Tibetan Buddhist see the procedures of birth and demise and resurrection as a chance to grow profoundly, even with the likelihood that one could perceive the idea of the brain and heart and be free. This absolutely "mental" process (encounters in cognizance) is said to keep going for forty-nine days. We don't really need to accept these lessons as strict; we can apply the lessons to any circumstance of fleetingness, change, gain, misfortune, kicking the bucket and restoration. In reflection, we regularly note the "interim" between the in and out breaths. So much "emerging," "staying," "stopping to be." Every day living.

Thondup addresses us about the lessons of Padmasambhava; Thondup talks without notes, looking to the "separation" over our heads; he's slight, has salt and pepper team trimmed hair, maroon-robed, with a consumed orange shirt. He's sitting in a dark colored and white padded seat, feet on the floor. A paper and a brocade thanka are hung up behind him. To the sides are little tables with four yellow tulips in a pot and a jar of pink and purple lilies.

We do a primer contemplation of unwinding and relaxing our applied personalities and mooring ourselves in a quiet perspective, letting our bustling musings gradually subside. At that point we "broaden and extend the vitality of our contemplation, cheering for this life."

Thondup urges us to work on improving the quality and propensities for our psyches; we will at that point appreciate such "propensities" and demeanors after death when the cognizance - whenever developed - will encounter the iridescent state, clear and open, "first light's sky," alongside both sweet and startling sounds and structures. Unnerving, radiant, supporting, compromising, stunning encounters happen.

"In the event that your mind handles sticks deflects - how I need this or how I need to push this away- - at that point you may get oblivious. The "light" and the divinities and shows and "voyaging" are not a few articles, however articulations of your own condition of cognizance."

You may show up before inviting Buddhas or holy people to manage you; you may experience "hells" or "sky." Your encounters are socially affected. A Christian may meet Jesus. Strolling a limited way, you may discover a "buddy." You may experience the Lord of Death, where you are reflected the "great" and "terrible" deeds of your life. You may enter the Pure Land, human life, become creatures, experience universes of the envious divine beings or domains of longing for however not fulfilled "hungry phantoms." All this is conceivable inside your very own awareness.

Reginald Ray: "The benefit of the human domain is that in the domains above it, there is so a lot of bliss that creatures are not propelled to change their circumstance, while in the domains beneath it, there is so a lot of enduring that creatures can't get adequate good ways from it to learn and change. In the human domain alone there is sufficient languishing to give inspiration over otherworldly improvement, yet less that creatures are squashed by it."

Thondup proposed that we keep on developing adoration, shrewdness and the yearning to help other people. We wish for ourselves and all to be upbeat and to be at long last "freed" from the cycle of birth-life-demise resurrection. Such an acknowledgment is at long last "unspeakable."

As I headed home, I flashed Thondup a gesture of goodwill. I consider Kabir: "Companion, trust in the Guest while you are alive. Bounce into experience...what you call 'salvation' has a place with the time before death. On the off chance that you don't break your ropes while you're alive, do you figure apparitions will do it after? In the event that you have intercourse with the awesome now, in the following life, you will have the substance of fulfilled want." ThondupTulku grinned back and waved farewell.

*Tulku Thondup Rinpoche was conceived in Golok, Eastern Tibet. He entered his preparation period in a Nyingma religious community until political changes in Tibet constrained him to escape to India in 1958.

Thondup showed Tibetan and Tibetan writing at Lucknow University (1967-76) and Visva Bharati University (1976-80). In 1980, Thondup came to Harvard University as a meeting researcher. For as long as 23 years, he has been living in Cambridge, Massachusetts, where shows Tibetan Buddhism, especially Nyingma Buddhism. Thondup goes all through North America and Europe, driving recuperating reflection workshops.

[ilovemyarchitect]

New York, New Jersey Reginald L. Thomas, AIA has garnered over twenty years’ experience working with a diverse group of distinguished architectural/design firms in New York City.  Reginald L. Thomas Architect LLC specializes in historically based, high-end, residential projects. Recently, he has added commercial and institutional work to the firm’s diverse clientele. His work has been featured in several prestigious publications, notably The New York Times and Architectural Digest.

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ILMA INTERVIEW

When and why did you decide to become an Architect? 

I’ve wanted to be an architect since I was 10 years old. During a weekend visit to the local art store to purchase paints, a how to book on architectural rendering caught my eye.   I remember thinking that the floor plans seemed magical.

We can thank Mike Brady, of the then popular Sitcom, the Brady Bunch, for that.  My first introduction to renderings and models came from watching the episodes after school and I was hooked.

Growing up in New York City, however, I visited the Museum of Natural History and MOMA regularly.  I was fascinated by the dioramas at the Museum of Natural History and the artwork at the MOMA and so at first, I dreamt of being an artist and being able to create this kind of beauty.

What were some of the challenges of achieving your dream?    

I grew up in the South Bronx, so the first challenge was of course, money.  I fretted about how I was going to pay for college or even how I was going to apply to college.  It was stressful to think that I would have to help my siblings after college and therefore not be able to realize my own dreams.

Any memorable clients or project highlights?   

I’ve had the pleasure of working with corporate giants, entertainment and sports celebrities as well as hard working people who are interested in living in beautiful spaces. All are special to me.  Each project has its own individual story However, I have had clients that allowed me to design and build every inch of their space including the furniture. That’s amazing in today’s climate.

How does your family support what you do?    

College was a priority in my household as both my parents attended college.  My dad for his Associates Degree and my mother for her Master’s in Education.  , Although I did not have money I had an abundance of support for what I wanted to accomplish and an expectation that I get there.

How do Architects measure success?   

I believe versatility is a skill we all value as designers. We build projects that are beautiful as well as functional. Being able to create an aesthetically pleasing space to satisfy each of my client’s specific   taste and at the same time ensuring that it functions is its own reward.

What matters most to you in design?

Like Vitruvius conformitas, utilitas, venustas, which is harder than we think. But on a global scale, how important this component we create affects the fabric of the built environment fabric.

What do you hope to achieve over the next 2 years? 5 years?

To grow my business using all of the experience I’ve garnered over the last 30 years in multiple jurisdictions.

Like most artists, I also wish to push the barriers of my creativity while remaining true to the traditional and timeless nature of my designs.

Who is your favorite Architect? Why?    

Paul Rudolph for salesmanship, talent, and cultural navigation skills which were beyond belief

Frank Lloyd for his skill, as well as his ability to convince his clients to be daring and tenacious.

Julia Morgan for her dedication and ability when she was the only one, and her clients who recognized and rewarded her abilities.

Do you have a coach or mentor?

Not when I went into business no. However, for development I had two Mr. Richard Dozier and Max Bond Jr.

What is your favorite historic and modern (contemporary) project? Why?

The Great Pyramids of Giza. They are pure form, functional and beautiful.  It was once written by an early 19th century explorer who catalogued the proclivity for ornamentation throughout the known world that what we are able to see of Egyptian Architecture now is this architecture represents the last 2500 of this work in decline, what left of this 5000 year old architectural culture.

If that be the case, then how much more glorious the architectural vocabulary of this civilization must be. The elements of order including the concept of hyper style halls must be astounding. These are the elements that make an edifice “timeless.”

Notre Dame du Haut: The building teaches the intangibles of architecture as art. How does one use light as a design element?  Most people will never even notice how the intangible shapes made by light in their space let alone the effects on their psychological health.

The Mildred B Cooper Memorial Chapel: The boundaries that identify characteristics of nature and the difference from manmade structures are so blurred I this building that it is magical. I think in this design he did make his mentor proud. It is truly great work.

Where do you see the profession going over the next few decades? 

I think we are finally reaching the point where we are accepting the fact that we are part of a global community.  That means a true understanding, in real time, of the relationship and importance of urban design, architecture and interior design etc. to the human conditions.

Our use of technology will continue to grow at a rapid pace and architects will be required to leverage their expertise to benefit the world community especially in the areas of sustainability, and resilience.

I am most excited by the possibility of the profession as the lead, taking on the real-estate profession as developers

What type of technology do you see in the design and construction industries?

The digital drafting board and smart drafting solutions. The stylus is back, Instant 3d models and the expansion of BIM as a tool.

Wireless outlets

ASCII, GPS, LiDAR technology continue to advance. Assisting historic preservation giving a vision of what was formally unseen thereby assisting design and limiting errors.

3d modeling, as a tool, will advance to the point that we will grow more independent of contractors and furniture designers

Who / what has been your greatest influence in design?  

The reading of a Pattern Language. The book continues to teach me to think in layers until I get to the optimum solution.

Jean Michele Frank: The comprehensive business model that he practiced was one to be envied and to be emulated.

My mentors Max Bond and Richard Dozier.

New York City designers that I’ve work for like Peter Marino and Juan Montoya

Which building or project type would you like to work on that you haven’t been part of yet?   

A Place of worship on an island site

How do you hope to inspire / mentor the next generation of Architects?   

I hope to inspire the next generation through visibility. African-American descent represents a very small part of the architectural demographics.

I hope to write treatise and guides thereby leaving a guide to others to build on.

My suggestion always is to be assiduous; to be relentless, recognizing that  this is a lifelong area of study, one that requires . “long distance runners.”

What advice would you give aspiring architects (K-12)? College students? Graduates?

The best advice for K-12 is to engage with architects when they come in to your schools on career days.  It is important as this stage to really get a clear understanding of what an architect does and the value of architects’ play in their daily lives.

College students: Provide information and honest dialogue on expectations after graduation; how to set reasonable and attainable goals, and lastly the many ways to measure success.

Financial guidance on how to plan for a secure retirement.

Explain what it means to own one’s own firm.

What does Architecture mean to you? 

Architecture is life.  It is the culmination of the aspirations of the human condition at different time periods.

Architecture means being conscious of the places and spaces we occupy as humans.  It’s being in the unique position of being able to effect change in the communities welive in a way that is unique to no other profession

What is your design process? 

Client interview: Do more listening than writing.

Who or what community am I designing for.

Identify client particulars not just in program but culturally. How does the client perceive and use space. What is the corporate or family dynamic?

Where am I being asked to design?

What are the constraints of the site or space?

How do I make it function perfectly and at the same time be beautiful?

If you could not be an Architect, what would you be?  

Apart from very early on when I wanted to be an artist I have never given thought to being anything else, however, if you were to ask my father, a surgeon would have been his preference.

What is your dream project?  

One that encompasses urban planning, landscape architecture, architecture as sculpture, interior design and furniture design; the complete package in the vernacular of the local culture.

What advice do you have for future Executive leaders?  

Seek out and work with like-minded people who share your vision and whom you can trust to honestly evaluate, and counsel you.  Also, do not be afraid to delegate or share responsibility giving you the time and space you need as the leader to imagine and create.

What are three key challenges you face as a leader in business today and one trend you see in your industry?    

The challenge of finding curious and willing junior staff who are willing to put in the long hours needed to really learn the ins and outs of the profession.

Loyalty

Finding staff that is willing to learn how to build, even, by drawing the components rather than by cutting and pasting.

My hope is that with the advances in Wacom Tablet technology we will have monitors as drafting boards and stylus as pencils causing the young architect to unconsciously pay more attention to what and how the building is being created.

What one thing must an executive leader be able to do to be successful in the next 3 years?

The executive leader must to be able to leverage the power of the internet and especially social media

What are some executive insights you have gained since you have been sitting in the executive leadership seat – or what is one surprise you have encountered as the world of business continues to morph as we speak?    

I have been surprised at how much television, social media and the internet have impacted the decisions we now make as leaders.

Final Thoughts on How to Be Successful?   

Improving and adapting are keys to longevity and to success.   Be relentless in your desire to grow and learn recognizing that learning is a lifelong pursuit.

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Our Exclusive ILMA Interview with Reginald Thomas New York, New Jersey Reginald L. Thomas, AIA has garnered over twenty years’ experience working with a diverse group of distinguished architectural/design firms in New York City.