#i have lived with my dad my entire life and i cannot describe his face at all without looking directly at him

[caiibuck]

Oh, "I'm good at faces, but suck at names" this, and "I'm bad at faces, but I'm good with names" that, I'm bad at both. I have no object permanence, I will forget everything about you the second you leave my line of sight. I have the memory of a goldfish and an ass as bulbous as their fucked up little heads. We are not the same.

[robininthelabyrinth]

genderbent wens, like the siblings and the head family?

ao3

“- and in one generation, they were all women, every single one of them!” Lao Nie laughed so hard he was very nearly hiccupping, but Lan Qiren supposed that was understandable on account of the other sect leader having consumed a truly unbearable amount of wine. Some of which was on his behalf – Lao Nie had been in a strange mood during the conference, especially excited, and had boisterously interjected himself into Jin Guangshan’s regular attempts to get Lan Qiren drunk by volunteering to take all his toasts for him – so Lan Qiren felt obligated to stay and keep him from making a nuisance of himself. “So be careful what you wish for, Jin-xiong!”

“Let go of me!” Jin Guangshan yelped, and really, getting squashed like that by Lao Nie tipping over onto him was exactly what he deserved. Only Jiang Fengmian was nice enough to try to help him, and all that accomplished was to get him pulled, laughing, into the drinking as well.

Possibly that had been his goal.

“That seems remarkably unlikely,” Wen Ruohan remarked. He, at least, was sitting properly, and had for once restrained himself during the festivities – he was friends of a sort with Jin Guangshan, which never seemed to go well for anyone else, but Lao Nie’s rowdiness had apparently severed that for the night. He looked sidelong at Lan Qiren. “Don’t you think, Sect Leader Lan?”

Lan Qiren could never figure out if Wen Ruohan meant for that term of address to be an insult or a compliment, and he was tired of trying.

“What is so unlikely?” he asked, having been paying more attention to Lao Nie’s stability than his words.

“An entire generation born as women,” Wen Ruohan said. He was playing with the cup of wine in his hands rather than drinking it. “Statistically possible, but highly improbable, given the size of the Nie sect.”

“Well, I assume he’s accounting for the misaligned,” Lan Qiren said, because Wen Ruohan wasn’t wrong – the Nie sect might be smaller than others, but it was still a Great Sect; it was very far from being small. “That would affect the numbers.”

“Misaligned?” Wen Ruohan echoed.

“A tradition among the Nie,” Lan Qiren explained, because it wasrather unusual. “They believe that the reincarnation cycle occasionally errs, with the soul of a woman ending up in a male body or a man in a woman – or I suppose neither and both, I’m not entirely certain about that one. At any rate, it’s not terribly common, but neither is it especially uncommon, so I suppose it’s possible –”

“Isn’t it a punishment?” Wen Ruohan interrupted.

Lan Qiren blinked at him, not understanding.

Wen Ruohan was looking down at his cup, which he had started to hold rather tightly – his knuckles were white, and it was only his especially good control over his cultivation that was keeping the cup from shattering. “The misalignment,” he clarified. “It’s said that those who commit sins in one life will be condemned in their next: reborn as an ant, or a chicken raised for slaughter. To be reborn into a body that does not fit you would surely seem to be along the same lines.”

“I suppose I see the argument,” Lan Qiren said, relieved that for once Wen Ruohan was in the mood for a theoretical discussion rather than causing trouble just to show that he had the power to do so without consequence. “I believe the Nie would argue in turn that being born as a thinking being capable of expressing oneself is sufficient basis to assume error rather than retribution – we’re all cultivators fighting the dictates of fate, after all. If one can seek immortality against all heavenly restrictions, then seeking to be recognized in the manner of your soul rather than your body would appear to be a much smaller issue.”

He shrugged and took a sip of his tea, rolling it in his mouth first to confirm it hadn’t been spiked with anything alcoholic.

“My assumption entirely,” he added. “I’m not actually that familiar with the Nie sect doctrine on this matter. Lao Nie is not the most academic, and if anything seems more bemused by our lack of understanding on the matter.”

Wen Ruohan was frowning into his cup, but at least he wasn’t gripping it so tightly.

“Fighting the dictates of fate,” he murmured. “Yes, I can see that. If you decide you are something, who dares say that you cannot be that, even the Heavens themselves?”

Such a Wen sect way of thinking, Lan Qiren thought to himself, shaking his head. Arrogant, defiant and proud – always raising their heads up high. Admirable in small doses, irritating in large!

“What would you do?” Wen Ruohan asked him, and Lan Qiren looked at him, surprised. “If there was – something like that, but in your sect? The Lan is the most orthodox of the sects; you do not even permit intermingling between men and women.”

“We don’t – men and women live separately; it’s not the same thing as not permitting intermingling,” Lan Qiren protested, but he supposed he could see the value in the question. “If one of my sect disciples informed me that they believed themselves to be a misalignment, I would – accept it, I suppose. Perhaps after a period of supervision, to ensure that they were serious and understood the consequences of their actions, that they would live and be perceived socially in the manner their soul for the rest of their lives; that would help ensure no one would engage in such a thing lightly or as a prank.”

He thought about it a little more.

“Yes, I think that’s right,” he concluded. “There are many rules that touch on the subject of being true to oneself, and none requiring adherence to the gender of one’s body; therefore, it is more in accordance to the rules to permit it. In such an event, I might also send them to the Unclean Realm for a time to further their understanding of the concept, to allow them time to reflect on the proposed change and to ensure they have access to a place where they can feel safe in exploring –”

“What if it were you yourself? Given your position?”

“Me?” Lan Qiren blinked. “I’ve always been comfortable being a man, so it isn’t an issue. But if it was, I would imagine that the same would apply to me as to anyone else in my sect. After all, we have precedent of a woman taking the role of Sect Leader, so that isn’t a consideration.”

“I suppose you do,” Wen Ruohan said. He seemed thoughtful. “What do you think the other sects would think of it?”

“Well, I can hardly say. Of the Great Sects? The Jiang sect would probably approve of it; their sect motto is ‘attempt the impossible’, and their emphasis has always been on freedom and finding your own way – I can’t imagine them objecting in a way that wouldn’t make them come across as complete hypocrites. The Nie would of course accept it. The Jin…”

The Jin sect, under Jin Guangshan, would reject it utterly. Perhaps it might be different under a different sect leader, but Jin Guangshan was even more wedded to the idea of people being in what he considered their ‘proper’ place than most. He hated the newly rich, the self-made upstart, even the poor young men who fought their way up from nothing – in his view, immortality was best reached by nothing ever changing. It was, perhaps, an understandable viewpoint from a man who felt as though he already had everything, but still rather disgusting given how despite all of that Jin Guangshan still grappled and sought after even more power and wealth than he already had – as if he were the only one allowed to rise, and everyone else had to stay where they were so he could more easily step on them on his way up.

“Oh, the Jin. Leave Jin Guangshan to me,” Wen Ruohan said with that dangerous smile of his, the one that promised blood on the ground.

Lan Qiren nodded agreeably, then frowned. Since when had they been discussing how to convince Jin Guangshan to be more open to an admittedly idiosyncratic Nie sect custom?

He was about to ask, but then Lao Nie started singing – with Jiang Fengmian providing the harmony, insofar as ‘harmony’ could be used to describe something that sounded not unlike a duet for elephants in heat or possibly someone using a brick to bludgeon people mid-opera – and they all got distracted in the unified effort of trying to get them to stop.

Lan Qiren then forgot about the entire conversation for approximately two months, and abruptly recalled it when Wen Ruohan issued an announcement that the Wen sect now permitted female sect leaders, that, furthermore, shewas the first one, and, finally, that if anyone objected on any basis whatsoever they were welcome to fight her personally.

Which –

Well, in all, Lan Qiren wished his fellow sect leader the best and started resigning himself to having to suffer from even more of Lao Nie’s flirting at the next discussion conference. That man had never yet met a man or woman who could kill him that he wouldn’t try to sleep with, and he generally preferred women…

-

“It’s nice to have the company of another girl,” Jiang Yanli said with a smile.

Wen Xu snorted. “I agree, even if I wish it were under different circumstances.”

Jiang Yanli managed to maintain her expression of peace and tranquility for exactly four breaths before she burst out into giggles, an incredibly infectious sound that finally made Wen Xu start laughing as well.

“It’s mean,” Jiang Yanli said, only laughing harder. “I should – I’m glad they’re happy! Really!”

“We can be glad that they’re happy and also think that our parents are insane,” Wen Xu said. “I can’t believe – your parents are already married! To each other!”

“They weren’t very happy, though,” Jiang Yanli said. “I honestly think Sect Leader Wen has been very good for them. Even if I don’t want to think too hard about it.”

Wen Xu nodded. They were both twelve, which was exactly the age at which you tried very hard not to think things like I’m pretty sure my mom’s railing your dad while your mom provides commentary with his face in her lap right this very instant and yet you did think it because the adults were very not subtle sometimes and then at that point there was nothing to do but laugh.

“I heard that lots of people thought she was going to get together with Sect Leader Nie at first,” Jiang Yanli said. “You know, because they flirt so much?”

“My mom says that Sect Leader Nie flirts with anyone who can kill him,” Wen Xu said, and still marveled a little at being able to say things or think things like mom. Before, she’d only ever been allowed to refer to his father through the most formal terms, with any attempt to use a more intimate sobriquet being viciously punished – she’d often thought that her father would rather she called him Sect Leader Wen instead, and maybe she’d been right.

Her mother was a lot more easy-going about that sort of thing now, though. Wen Xu still wasn’t sure whether it was because she preferred ‘a-niang’ over ‘a-die’ or if it was just that, having blown up the entire cultivation world through her gender choices, her mother felt a lot freer in ignoring the rest of the expectations that had burdened her, too.

“So he’s not serious about her?”

“I mean, maybe he is, I don’t know,” Wen Xu said. “But apparently the whole thing with my mom deciding to announce that she was a woman happened right around the time he was getting back together with his second wife so I guess he was taken?”

“Wait, he got back together with – wasn’t she dead?”

“Apparently not? I really don’t know what happens in the Unclean Realm.”

“Probably for the best,” Jiang Yanli said. “I mean – I don’t – uh, that is –”

“If you’re talking about the fact that my mom still wants to take over the entire cultivation world and declare herself an immortal Empress, trust me, I know.”

“Oh, good,” Jiang Yanli said. “I wasn’t sure how to bring it up.”

Wen Xu shrugged. She mostly just hoped that her mom’s current relationship with the other sect leaders was such that she didn’t actually murder them all in her inevitable effort to take over – it had always been something of a concern, and greater now that she actually knew Jiang Yanli was pretty cool.

“I also thought…” Jiang Yanli hesitated. “You yourself…?”

“Oh, no, I’m different. My birth mother made me pretend to be a boy,” Wen Xu said. “So that I could be the heir and she could keep her place as my father’s main wife, though of course in the end it didn’t really work out that well for her…I think A-Chao’s like mom, though. She wants to be a princess.”

“So she’s like your mom in the – ambitious sense?”

Wen Xu snickered. “Yes, that too. Actually, it’s a little funny. The whole thing started because my mom overheard Lao Nie talking about how a whole generation of Nie sect got cursed to be girls one time, and now I think mysect’s current generation is all girls.”

“Oh! Are they really?”

“Well, not really, but almost?” Wen Xu said. “There’s really just my mom, A-Chao, and me in the main branch, though we have some cousins that got sort of pulled into the main branch after their parents died – A-Qing and A-Ning. They were both born as girls, but recently A-Qing’s been saying that he thinks he might be happier as a man…it’s interesting. He’s not unhappybeing a woman the way I’m pretty sure my mom hated being a man, but he really likesbeing a man, and according to the Nie sect that’s the same thing, just a different expression of it? I don’t know.”

“How old are they?” Jiang Yanli asked.

“A-Qing’s about our age, and A-Ning is your brothers’ ages. You can meet them the next time there’s a conference in Qishan…”

-

“Can I bring Jiaojiao?” Wen Chao asked, and quailed under Wen Qing’s glare.

Wen Ning was just happy to remain underfoot and out of attention range. Her brother had a wicked way with needles when he wanted, and she wanted no part in any of that.

“Are you serious right now?” Wen Qing demanded. “You want to take your whore with you when we run away from home?”

“I’m not leaving Jiaojiao behind!” Wen Chao insisted. “And she’s not a whore! She doesn’t sleep with anyone but me.”

Hasn’t doesn’t mean wouldn’t, Wen Ning thought, then promptly felt bad for thinking it. It was a very catty thought and she was ashamed of it, even if Wang Lingjiao did strike her as rather…mercenary.

“Also I don’t understand why we have to run away anyway,” Wen Chao said, pouting. “So what if Mom started a war? We’re going to win, and then I’ll be a princess.”

“You’re an idiot,” Wen Qing said. “We’re not going to win.”

“But we control half the cultivation world!”

“Yes, and maybe if your mom was as ruthless as she used to be, she would’ve done the things necessary to win the war,” Wen Qing said. “Like take out Lao Nie early on, maybe. Now that the Nie sect’s got both him andNie Mingjue, any of our cultivators that go to the Unclean Realm are going to be slaughtered.”

Wen Chao winced, acknowledging the point.

“And ever since Lao Nie and Lan Qiren started their thing, it’s not like the Nie sect won’t also go defend the Lan sect, right?”

“…right.”

“And of course there’s the Jiang sect, which we probably couldraze to the ground if we really wanted to. But we’re not going to, and you know why?”

“Because Mom is fucking their sect leaders.”

“Because your mom is fucking their sect leaders,” Wen Qing agreed. “And that is why we declared war first on the Jin sect, because no one likes them.”

“So what’s the problem?”

“The problem is that the Jin sect makes no sense at all as a target! If we take over the entire stretch of territory between Lanling and Qishan, Qinghe gets completely cut off from Gusu and Yunmeng and there’s no way they’re going to let that happen, which means that they’re going to declare war on us. And that is why we are running away from home, because we do not want to be here when the Nie sect shows up.”

Wen Ning’s brother was awesome and everyone should listen to him.

“Maybe your mom will rethink her actions once she’s seen that we’ve run away,” Wen Ning told Wen Chao in a low voice, since she was still scowling. “And I think it’s fine if you bring Jiaojiao. She’s your girlfriend, right?”

Wen Chao frowned. “I mean…she’s someone I’m sleeping with. For now. That’s all – she’s just a maid.”

Wen Ning would normally refrain from commenting, but… “If she’s just a maid, then why do you care about her potentially dying when the Nie sect invades?”

Wen Chao’s face did something. “I – maybe I just want to have her around to keep sleeping with her!”

Wen Qing looked on the verge of saying something, but Wen Ning stepped on her foot.

“Maybe you should think about it,” she said. “I don’t think we can let a servant to come with us – same reason we can’t take Wen Zhuilu, since he’d just report the whole thing to your mom – but if she was your girlfriend and you trusted her…”

She trailed off and shrugged.

Wen Chao’s face was doing weird colors.

“A-Ning, stop trying to teach A-Chao to have mature emotional reactions, it’s a hopeless case,” Wen Qing said. “Keep packing instead. If I was smart, I’d let A-Chao stay here with her Jiaojiao and her dreams of being a princess.”

“No!” Wen Chao exclaimed, then flushed red.

“No? Then pack.”

-

“How about we just assume girl until otherwise proven?” Wen Xu suggested, patting the baby’s back to try to keep calm. Whether the person to be calmed was the baby or Wen Xu herself was unknown. “She doesn’t need to have gender imposed so early.”

“Deciding that she’s a girl is imposing a gender,” Wen Chao said. Her head was in Wang Lingjiao’s lap, and she was pouting. “I can’t believe we have to take care of a baby.”

“She’s family,” Wen Qing said.

“Her parents aren’t!”

“Mom’s rules are that anyone who has the Wen surname and blood who doesn’t have parents gets adopted into the main family.”

“Do Sect Leader Wen’s rules even matter any more?” Wen Ning asked, wringing her hands. “With her being under house arrest…”

“It’s temporary. Once she vows not to wage offensive war without approval of the other Great Sect leaders, she’ll be released and things will go back to normal. Mostly. Possibly with slightly less war?”

“Yes, but in the meantime, why do we have to be in charge?”

“Uh, because you’re the heirs?”

“I’m not the heir,” Wen Chao sniffed. “A-Xu is.”

“This is so stupid,” Wen Xu said. “I can’t believe our mother’s military campaign and inevitable tragic defeat was derailed by the giant man-eating tortoise A-Chao found.”

“Anyone could’ve stumbled over that cave!”

“We weren’t even supposed to be heading in that direction! If you hadn’t stolen the map and insisted on being the navigator –”

“It all turned out for the best,” Wen Qing interrupted. “No blood feuds – or at least, not any we can’t afford to pay off – and that awful Jin Guangshan isn’t around anymore, which the other sect leaders are pretending to mind but really don’t. Mom will be back in charge of the sect soon enough, and with luck will forget all about trying to take over the world and will instead go back to fucking her two lovers that swooped in and saved her life instead defeating her because she’s incredibly touched by that even if she’s pretending she’s not. It’s like a scene out of a bad play.”

“Can we get back to the bit where we got a baby?” Wen Xu said. “I don’t want to deal with a baby.”

“I already explained –”

“I’ll take A-Yuan,” Wen Ning volunteered. “She seems sweet.”

“Girls usually are.”

“We are not saying everyone is a girl until otherwise determined!”

“Why not?” Wen Xu wanted to know. “Worked out pretty good so far.”

“I – that is – I mean…” Wen Qing floundered, then scowled. “Okay, listen. Not even the Nie sect does that, and I refuse for the Wen sect to be weirder than the Nie. All right?”

Everyone considered that, and agreed.

They might be weird – but they weren’t that weird.

Right?

[goldrockyroad]

now that the season is over here are chuang2021 moments i cannot believe are real, a list that only gets longer and in no particular order: 

- that entire bit of them choosing their dorm rooms, including but not limited to:

lin mo copping his double room only to lose it + his mental breakdown after that

almost 20 of them fighting to have hiroto stay in their room

nine and patrick's 'we break up' (only for patrick to move in after 1st round of eliminations) 

ak: ‘does rikimaru snore?’ santa: ‘yeah, very loudly’ ak: ‘oh NOOOO i’m scREWED’ 

- hanfu shop owner liu yu

- han meijuan training base: 

yu gengyin’s ‘i am a proud fishie swimming into your heart’ 

also yu gengyin: ‘i’m a little scared that the debut lineup will end up being 11 han meijuans’ 

zhang xinyao dropping it low. that’s it. 

han peiquan: ‘look at that santa, he can dance so well but can he do this? he can play the drums but ask him to come here, can he do it? no way’ 

the entire “just go where you want” performance including their intro + mentors comments + xie xingyang’s slogans

but even more so “just go where you want” 2.0 LIVE AT THE FINALS 

- the mentors dancing along to ‘vote for me xoxo’ during “just go where you want” 2.0 before carrying and promptly drOPPING zhou shen onto the floor before the rest of them pretend like nothing happened in time for the ending pose 

- “when i’m with you”, “unbreakable love”, “just go where you want” > the actual theme song all day every day 

- don't be shy @/tencent , give me all the clips of gan wangxing singing jing long's “lost you” (diu le ni) + more of the both of them dancing to crab dance backstage

- zhou shen, to shao mingming on the verge of having a meltdown over mean comments about him as practice for “i don’t care” stage: ‘do you want to hear the next comment?’ shao mingming, as the others start laughing: ‘plEASE NO’ zhou shen, reading the comment anyway: ‘he only knows how to cry’ cue maniac laughter from all of them 

- just hanjiang, really 

zhang xinyao, on “feng ding” stage: ‘it was so good. also i wanna add hanjiang you look like huluwa’

to wu yuheng after “i don’t care” team’s performance: ‘there’s only one word to describe you - handsome. first time i saw you i went, woah, handsome. saw you on stage performing - woah, handsome. seriously, handsome’ 

xue bayi, backstage: ‘i think he’s said that to me too’ 

when called up at 2nd eliminations: ‘what’s manga-like man?’ another trainee: ‘ means you look like you came out of a manga’ zhou zhennan: ‘yeah it’s like fei yang yang came out of the page into real life’ 

domineering ceo with all of them either screaming or looking mildly uncomfortable 

literally scREAMING to get people to join “zui kuen” team 

more importantly hanjiang’s dad imitating him scream to get people to join “zui kuen” team to a dAMN T 

- patrick: ‘hello everyone i am your ocean prince patrick!’ wu hai: ‘and i am the ocean’ [for non-chinese speaking fans of chuang, the hai 海 in wu hai means ocean] + the continuation of this on wu hai’s dorm diary

- “unbreakable love” 2.0 !!!! put it on spotify right now !!!!!

- da-geTM bo yuan 

fu sichao, on bo yuan getting 9th for 2nd eliminations: ‘that feeling when your own old man (laughs for a bit) when your old man gets a really good grade, it’s indescribable happiness’

amu: ‘bo yuan’s like my grandpa, and he might as well be’  

eisho’s ‘bo yuan gege’ 

hiroto getting other trainees to call him da-ge on dorm diary but having bo yuan as his da-ge 

or alternatively, yuan-shu [uncle yuan], as seen after using the term fanersai（凡尔赛）[literally means versailles, a slang that means the same thing as flexing / humblebragging in english] 

- gan wangxing unintentional comedian

han peiquan, on his first impressions of gan wangxing: ‘he’s such so good-looking, and then he opens his mouth (disbelievingly rolls his eyes) i almost died right there’ 

on being 11th for 2nd eliminations: ‘in the past, my life plan was that after graduating from university, i’d find a stable job and live a nine-to-five life. and i used to fantasize that in my future i’d be able to find a wife early, drive a car to bring her travelling, we can listen to some music and lift our heads to see the stars’ 

other trainees: laughing and going ‘oOHHHH’, notably including xie xingyang: ‘he’s still fantasizing!’ 

also other trainees, after seeing the video his family sent to cheer him on: ‘where’s the wife? where’s the wife!’ 

also ‘hello, look at me’ coming up everytime he shows up

case in point - the mentors erupting into laughter when gan wangxing steps forward to do his evaluation, notably zhou zhennan: ‘kill me with it!’ [i’m not sure how to translate what he actually said in a better way than that], nene following up by simply going ‘hello’, zhou zhennan immediately picking it up while still laughing: ‘look at me’

holding the umbrella for nene at the end of “it’s raining and i’m thinking of you” stage just for all the trainees backstage to go ‘why’s it you!’ 

Very Passionately telling gong jun what jing long taught him on singing

- ‘andy lau has come to visit our zoo!’ 

- wu yuheng’s quest for chilli sauce in his dorm diary:

wu yuheng and fu sichao terrorising a staff member for chilli sauce until the staff goes to wu yuheng ‘if you wake him (fu sichao) up every morning i’ll make sure you get your chilli sauce’ to which fu sichao says to wu yuheng ‘you know what chilli sauce isn’t that great let’s go’ 

wu yuheng straight up drinking zhou keyu’s chilli sauce because i could never 

- liu yu confessing to lin mo as a dare from shao mingming but lin mo’s in the toilet so liu yu has to awkwardly do it standing outside the cubicle door while shao mingming and xue bayi eat the drama up 

- oscar’s reaction to people finding out his real name + the entire ‘xiong xiong’ saga 

- lelush with a pearl earring 

- rikimaru moments that deserve a segment of their own 

having the first comment on his first solo performance be ‘drop your skincare routine’ [essentially] because the mentors didn’t have anything to critique on his performance 

at the start of his speech at 3rd eliminations, when it was clearly evening: ‘good morning’ 

getting very sad over the fact that yumeri didn't send him a video to cheer him on + being jealous every time someone's sister showing up in the videos

- speaking of sisters, the guys simping over amu's sisters + amu, asking the mentors when trainees had the chance to dedicate a few words to each other during the final livestream: 'can my sisters come next year?'

- santa, on preparation for nana party stage: ‘she (mao xiaotong) learnt the choreography really fast, and even if she made mistakes she’ll be like *makes cute expressions* so even when she did i’d be like “it’s ok! no problem!” she’s so cute’ the staff interviewing him: ‘is this the santa we know?’ 

- “the adventure” team making fun of their female guest before finding out said female guest was meng meiqi aka goddess incarnate AND had been watching them make fun of her through the cameras 

- lin mo’s bat song

- xie xingyang discreetly stealing food from the staff on their movie night that was originally supposed to only be for those who used their beans before a whole group of them [led by jing long, consisting of xie xingyang, wei ziyue, hu yetao and others] just go and outright take it with nine hugging the staff member to let them take the food that entire bts video is a mess and you know what? that’s what i’m here for

- zhou zhennan’s constant ‘wtf’ face 

- that chuang x GQ beach video 

- gong jun’s entire time on chuang, but especially the moments with zhou shen. felt like a fever dream tbh 

[retrocontinuity]

Eat, for this is Her Body: Chainsaw Man and the Doxology of Cannibalism

"One day," Anthony Oliveira writes in "The Year in Apocalypses," [Jesus'] disciples approached their master while he was silent in prayer and made a request: 'Lord, teach us how to pray.'" From here, Jesus teaches them the Lord's Prayer, what the Catholic Church once called "the summary of the whole gospel":

Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name; thy kingdom come; thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread; and forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us; and lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.

Denji is no one's disciple. When we first meet him, he is closer to how Oliveira describes Jesus himself, "homeless, gleaning for food in the field like a sparrow and relying on the kindness of strangers to put him up, . . . a man cheerfully resigned to powerlessness." And so, Denji doesn't need to be taught how to pray. He has always known. Every bone in his body at the opening of Chainsaw Man sings out the Lord's Prayer: "forgive me my debts", "deliver me from evil." And, of course, Denji is intimately familiar with the prayer's most pitiable, most powerful line. It's this line that he cries out to Makima when he rests, Pieta-like, in her arms at the end of the first chapter. It can only be this line, one that Denji might have written himself:

Give me, from this day forward, and for all the rest of my days, daily bread.

Bread runs throughout CSM like a mocking scent that you only fully identify in the last two chapters. It should have been a sign to all of us when the first meal Makima buys for Denji is not bread (but rather a hot dog and udon noodles). It isn't until Denji meets and enters Aki's home that he is seen making a hideously overladen slice of toast for himself, luxuriating in having all the toppings he was denied. The morning after she forces Denji to open the door to Power's death, Makima makes the very breakfast she once promised to serve Denji: eggs, coffee, salad, and sliced bread. But this is a meal that Denji never eats—maybe the only meal in the entire series that he, a survivor of the meanest starvation and poverty, ignores. There is only one other time we see this meal in CSM, and it is subtle, almost off camera, though no less meaningful: in Chapter 53, after Reze's death, as Denji sits down to breakfast once more with Power and Aki.

To revisit CSM's public safety arc is to see all the ways the plot connects itself to food and the act of eating, both appetizing and revolting, both profound and profane. Denji, eating gyoza at a bar for the first time. Denji being forced to swallow barf as he is kissed for the first time. The Fox Devil, who eats indiscriminately and on command, who refuses to return to Aki after being fed something disgusting. A fox that is hunted and transformed into stew. Denji eating sandwiches at Reze's cafe. Aki and Angel eating noodles. A woman sitting down to eat a hamburger for the first time, before she commits mass murder. She is worried she has lost her taste buds, yet she exclaims, "So delicious!" We know, later, that this woman is a liar, that no part of her is what she presents herself to be. Should we take this moment at its face value then? Was Santa Claus simply lucky enough to have preserved her sense of taste? Or was it her one last act of humanity, to recognize that it is not enough just to eat, that man does not live on bread alone, that there must be at least food that is also delicious, that inspires people to get up and dance—even if it means she has to lie about what she can experience?

Food is necessary for survival, and CSM is a story about survival. But CSM is also a story about glimpsing the after. After you know you can keep living, what next? After you are no longer starving, after you have been forced to kill a friend, after you have touched your first boob, after you have been betrayed, what next? After you are tired of eating toast with jam for breakfast, what do you eat next?

The version of the Lord's Prayer we tend to recite asks for "our daily bread." But this, most modern scholars believe, is a mistranslation. The Greek adjective as it appears in the Gospel of Matthew and Luke is "epiousios," which doesn't mean "daily" at all, but rather something too complicated etymologically for me to even begin to parse. The point is that what we ask for in the Lord's Prayer is not just bread for today, but bread for tomorrow. Both the physical bread and the spiritual bread. Bread on this kingdom of earth, and bread that is the kingdom of heaven. Bread to feed our bodies, and bread to feed our souls. The realm of the divine is full of these moments, isn't it? Of two things existing at once, in one.

Denji starts the series asking for daily bread, and ends the public safety arc with Nayuta, Makima's reincarnation, asking him for daily bread. Trash heap Denji, living with his not!dog Pochita, really was just asking for daily bread. A slice to eat for breakfast, maybe even with butter and jam. But he too learns that bread, physical bread, is not enough. Merely to subsist, to eat good food, is an empty life. And what he must give Nayuta is not just bread, as was given to him. Otherwise, he will be trapped in a cycle of creating more Makimas. Instead, he must give her a relationship, a family, a world that Makima was unable to create. He must give her, in Pochita's words, lots of hugs. He must give her, in the words of the Lord's Prayer, epiousios.

To be clear, I am not arguing that CSM is meant to be read through a Catholic lens, and I doubt Fujimoto had all of this in mind when he wrote it (though he must have thought something, given that he drew a very large print of Gustave Dore's "Satan descends upon Earth" in Makima's entranceway!). But there is something primal (primordial?) about the Lord's Prayer. If every reader can understand the horror that the Darkness Devil represents, so too we can understand the intimacy and comfort of the Lord's Prayer. It is, as Oliveira writes, "a simple peasant's mantra for detoxing anxiety." Jesus opens by addressing God as father—not king, not an all-mighty spiritual being, but rather "abba, which is rather closer to 'dad,' and not in the intercultural Greek of his adulthood, but the Aramaic of home and childhood." The Lord's Prayer asks for what we always want, the only thing any of us have ever wanted since leaving the womb as infants: for no bad things to happen, for there to be enough to eat.

Even if what we have to eat is another person.

At the center of the Christian liturgy is the Last Supper, and at the center of the Last Supper is a meal that functions as ritual, abomination, accusation, transubstantiation, paranoia, and an early example of cracking open a cold one with the bros. Here, Jesus shares bread and wine with his disciples and then, as if trying to invent r/creepypasta years before its time, informs them they are actually eating his flesh and blood. This image is so powerful and heretical that the Romans accused early Christians of being cannibals. And why shouldn't they? It's there in the text. "Take, eat. This is my body. This is my blood." Stripped of the grandeur of tradition and ritual, this is downright vampiric. And yet it goes on to become the cornerstone of the Christian faith.

Oliveira begs us to see the Last Supper as a family meal, one shared by Jesus and his found family. "All he is really saying is, 'I hope when you eat together, you remember me.'" It's a good reading, one that moves me to tears, and is the framework through which I see the events of chapter 80. Because Makima is not the first time that Denji "consumes" a friend, and I don't just mean him sucking Power's blood or taking Pochita into himself. When Aki died, he left half his fortune to Denji, who uses it to support himself and Power. They "pigged out on good food," he tells us. This is Aki's symbolic body, through which he provides Denji his daily bread. Eat ice cream and onigiri in remembrance of me.

But it is not how I see the events of chapter 96. Denji does not eat Makima in the context of a feast. He does not partake of her in a communal meal, as Jesus did, among his found family. He eats every bite of Makima alone. Jesus said before his death, "this is my blood, which is shed for many." Yet Denji says to Makima, I alone will absolve you alone of your sins. I alone will bear you alone.

Denji's Last Supper is a lonely remembrance. He is hoping that no one but him will remember her. He is hoping to wholly consume her, because he loves her. "We love as cannibals," French philosopher and activist Simone Weil wrote. "Beloved beings . . . provide us with comfort, energy, a simulant. They have the same effect on us as a good meal. . . . We love them, then, as food." In fact, Weil believed we cannot love any other way. As humans, we are forever doomed to want to eat the ones we love. In order to escape, we must both be devoured by God and then become food for our fellow human beings. As Alec Irwin writes of Weil's philosophy, "the devouring violence of God must be positively harnessed in order to dismantle the machinery of human cruelty."

If Weil is right and being devoured is transformation, a crucial part of salvation, then in eating Makima, Denji redeems her. He turns her into food to break the cycle of her cruelty. For Makima's power itself is consuming, cannibalistic. She "eats" humans in order to use her power, which remains mysterious like God moving across the face of the earth, leaving only broken corpses as a sign of its presence. So it must be Denji, not Chainsaw Man, who does the consuming. If Pochita had consumed her, as she had always prayed for, then it would simply be another act of violence being enacted. Instead, Denji gives her salvation by turning her into human food—his food.

To Denji, Aki was human, his family, his brother, his friend.  It is Makima he loves as a God and a woman. To him, she is Satan and God, his betrayer and his creator, his salvation and his friends' damnation. So he must take her, consume her, digest her, excrete her, reduce her to nothing, as she once consumed and excreted and reduced him. "I ate her to become one with her." He ate her to become her. There is no truer form of his love than for Denji to take Makima into himself. I use those words purposefully, because this is the rejection of classic cishet PIV penetration, that old hoary chestnut of men inside women. As Don Delillo famously outlines in White Noise, we talk about sex as if women are containers, rooms, elevator lobbies: "He entered me," "I want him inside me," "I took him into myself." Denji and Makima never have physical sex, but this is a consummation, a reversal of roles. We are given the only sex that Shounen Jump will allow us, with Denji taking Makima into himself. She enters him. She is inside him. He is—physically, emotionally, willingly—penetrated by her flesh. She is released inside of him, becoming part of him.

Because the divine is full of moments like this, isn't it? Of two things existing at once, in one. That is the kingdom and the power and the glory. For Makima now lives in that country inhabited by God, where loving and eating are one and the same. For that country is none other than Denji's body.

In conclusion:

Substitute Makima for "God", and the preceding statements are still rigorously accurate.

Further Reading:

Anthony Oliveira's ongoing podcast reading the Gospel of Mark (Patreon exclusive, but I highly recommend, even/especially if you are a heathen like me)

Hannibal (NBC)

Daniel Birnbaum and Anders Olsson, An Interview with Jacques Derrida on the Limits of Digestion

David Farrell Krell, "All You Can't Eat: Derrida's Course, "Rhetorique du Cannibalisme (1990-1991)." Research in Phenomenology, vol. 36, 2006, pp. 130–180. JSTOR, www.jstor.org/stable/24660636. 

Alec Irwin, “Devoured by God: Cannibalism, Mysticism, and Ethics in Simone Weil.” CrossCurrents, vol. 51, no. 2, 2001, pp. 257–272. JSTOR, www.jstor.org/stable/24460795.

[theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin]

You wrote your opinions on the Order of the Phoenix, what about the Death Eaters? That's another way of saying Lucius, Bellatrix, and anybody else. I honestly feel that we're running out of HP characters for you to write your opinion and reasoning about, so yeah~

We honestly are. When people start asking me questions about Harry’s nameless and faceless classmates I feel like we’re scraping the bottom of my barrel of Harry Potter opinions.

Though, that said, this is still a very large ask if you want me to analyze very Death Eater ever or even the Death Eaters as a whole (which is worthy of its own post).

So, we’ll compromise, and I’ll just look at the two you name dropped.

Lucius Malfoy

To me, Lucius is by far one of the more intelligent Death Eaters. He’s the guy who makes them almost look classy. I say almost, because Lucius is still a racist domestic terrorist and as the series goes on Tom gleefully drags him into being less classy by the minute (his house becomes a POW camp and housing for the dregs of society, Lucius just sobs, trying to be thankful he’s somehow still alive).

Lucius is rich, sophisticated, and is probably the most politically powerful man in the country. He has a beautiful wife he has... a son (sorry Draco, but you do not live up to your father) the guy has it all.

Which makes it very surprising that he got dragged into this mess. But you see, Lucius is paying for that tragedy we call youth.

Also, as a caveat, I’m about to headcanon hard and will not bother to get into the details of why I think x, y, or z in this post.

Ten years prior to the start of canon, Lucius is a very young man, probably very charismatic, certainly believes he’s intelligent and probably gets decent grades, but nonetheless the kind of stupid you see in men ages 15-25.

He’s likely chafing under his aging father’s strict guidance, knows he’s not going to be Lord Malfoy for years yet, wants to get out there, prove himself, and make a difference for his country. More importantly for Lucius, there’s this hip, exciting, new thing that all his cousins and friends are getting into called “The Death Eaters” (yes, I don’t believe the Knights of Walpurgis/Death Eaters 1.0 ever happened, I think it’s ridiculous that fandom and JKR does, I could go into why but not in this post). 

The Death Eaters are led by the single handedly most beautiful, charismatic, man in Britain. (Yes, I headcanon Tom’s still blindingly attractive at this stage, because it makes much more sense to me but we’re not getting into that here.) A mysterious man by the name of Voldemort, Salazar Slytherin’s long lost heir, who has come to resurrect the wizarding world’s true heritage and purge the land of the muggle stain. (Yes, I do believe that no one, not even Lucius who is later given the diary, knew who Tom really was. I believe Regulus’ had only the vaguest idea, informed mostly by Tom’s use of Kreacher to place the locket.) This is the most exciting thing to have ever happened, the rallies probably consist of rich kids drunk out of their minds and maybe even high on a little wizard cocaine, and Lucius is down for it precisely because his father says “Lucius, this is stupid, please don’t embarrass the family.” WELL LUCIUS IS GOING TO EMBARRASS THE FAMILY, DAD! WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO ABOUT IT?!

And for a while, it looks like Lucius made the right choice. Things are happening, they’re actually going out and killing the mudbloods! Unlike Regulus, Lucius never has that “wait a minute” moment as he realizes that Voldemort’s actually far more efficiently eliminating pureblood families and sowing dissention in what was once a unanimous force among the Wizengamot (the other pureblood lords aren’t necessarily pro muggleborn, per se, but they get a bit queasy at the thought of blowing them up or Merlin forbid actually blowing up their own public venues wizards use). 

And then October 31st, 1981 happens, and it all comes crashing down. Lucius has to desperately lie his ass off, having only the flimsiest lie to rely on, has to hand out a shit ton of bribes, and manages to squeeze his way out of being imprisoned in Azkaban. 

I’m sure Abraxas looked at his son, with his tattoo on his arm that makes him another man’s slave, at the utter destruction of the Black family, and just shook his head going, “Clean up your mess, Dumbass Son”

And Lucius does to the best of his ability. While some will always suspect him of being a Death Eater, while some know it, he’s able to climb very high in influence in their ridiculously tiny community. Granted, I do think he messed up, and could never for example run for minister given everything (if Crouch can’t rerun then Lucius certainly can’t). He also shows us that in some ways he is not above the law, he’s very afraid his house will be searched without warrant in The Chamber of Secrets, and this is in part why he dumps Tom Riddle’s diary off onto Ginny.

However, he wields total control of the Prophet, has a seat on the Wizengamot, has the ear of the current Minister, is on the Hogwarts’ Board of Governors, and has his hands in pretty much every pie he can.

I imagine during this period Lucius grows up. He brushes the indiscretions of his youth under the carpet, gleefully leaving it all behind him, and the only real friend he maintains contact with from that period is Severus, the least zealot like of all of them. (Crabbe and Goyle Sr aren’t friends, they’re minions). 

Don’t get me wrong, he’s still a racist slime bag, and I don’t think he really regrets the domestic terrorism. He just regrets nearly getting caught and putting his entire family’s security on the line. He witnessed first hand what happened to the Blacks.

And then the worst thing happens: Tom Riddle rises from the dead. He rises, impossibly, from the dead when Lucius has his own hand caught in the cookie jar.

Lucius has been living a life of luxury and influence while his great master, the man he had pledged everything to, was dead. Worse, Lucius took what was described as a treasured item to be protected at all costs, and not only threw it away but sent it to Hogwarts where it caused massive havoc and was ultimately destroyed. 

And Lucius, I imagine, no longer wants to serve a master.

But he has no choice. And so begins Lucius’ descent into misery and hell as he’s given an increasing set of impossible, horrific, tasks in punishment that involve him watching as his wife and son are put through hell.

I believe Tom holds a special place in his cold, black, passive aggressive heart for Lucius Malfoy.

First, Tom makes Lucius’ house his headquarters. Oh, Lucius, you have a very nice, very large, estate? Why don’t you host your beloved, mad, cousin, her equally mad husband and brother-in-law? Oh, Bellatrix threatened to cut off your ear? Well, she’s just so passionate! 

Second, Lucius is told to go get the prophecy. Well, this is easier said than done. He nearly succeeds but then it all turns into the world’s largest clusterfuck that ends in two notable things. First, the prophecy is lost forever, shattered. Second, the government admits that Voldemort is truly resurrected. Both of these things are very bad in Tom’s book. And the blame can easily be put on Lucius’ head.

In response to this, Draco is now given an impossible task that Draco is too stupid to realize is designed to cause him (and his family) as much misery as possible. Draco is to assassinate Dumbledore. 

Likely, Tom was already informed by Snape that Dumbledore was dying. The blackened hand was too obvious a tell coming from too obvious a source for the pair to have hid it. I think trying to hide such information would have immediately blown Snape’s cover. So, Tom knows the man is dying, and doesn’t see fit to tell Draco this.

Instead, he tells Draco, “Kill Dumbledore as soon as possible or I deliver you to Fenrir Grayback.” Draco, however, is young and stupid, so he honestly thinks he is doing this to restore the family honor, earn glory for himself and for the cause, and is expected to do this entirely by himself. As a result, when Narcissa begs Snape to aid Draco, Draco blows them both off and only accepts help from Bellatrix because HE CAN DO THIS ON HIS OWN! DRACO IS A MAN.

This, of course, doesn’t work out either. Draco doesn’t deliver the killing blow, Snape does, but Tom decides to give him a pass.

Instead he moves on to his next plan which is making the Malfoy manor his torture chamber and POW camp. Even Draco, at this point, realizes this all kind of sucks. 

And then Voldemort finally dies a second time, and I’m sure Lucius just stares numbly at his malformed corpse, wondering if it will really take this time.

So that’s Lucius for you, paying always for his mistakes, and pretending he’s just as much of a nutcase as Bellatrix to fit in.

Bellatrix LeStrange

God, compared to the novel that is Lucius’ ridiculous life, I really don’t have much to say about her because I feel like there’s not much too her.

Bellatrix reminds me a lot of the Manson family, she gives off those same vibes. Point being, I think even before Azkaban (while Azkaban certainly didn’t help), she was insane and a little too worshipful of Voldemort.

I guess I can start there, I don’t think Bellamort is a thing, at all. 

Tom may have, probably did, have sex with her before he died but afterwards? In that body? Forget about it.

That said, I’m sure Bellatrix both wanted to have sex and is convinced she did have sex to produce whatever the hell Delphi even is. It just wasn’t with Tom, and probably was Rodolphous with a Halloween mask on his face as they got a little too into role play.

And there we go, I suppose, I can’t take Bellatrix seriously. You often see her portrayed as sexy femme fatale Death Eater, the most competent of all of them, if a bit of a sadist.

Oh she might be a very good duelist but she’s... Bellatrix.

She prances around in corsets, shrieking madly, and just what part of that is supposed to be femme fatale? I literally cannot take her seriously on any level. When I even try to write her seriously, in very serious stories, I end up with lines like the following:

"My lord, if there's anything you need… Anything from me, specifically, as a woman…" 

- Bright Eyes

That was my best attempt. That was the best I could come up with. It’s still something that belongs in a comedy.

So, I don’t think Tom really corrupted her. I think without Voldemort she still probably would have been blowing up Diagon Alley, just in a much less organized manner.

Even in canon she does ridiculous things. For example, Bellatrix, frankly, could have easily avoided prison.

For weeks after the dark lord fell neither she, her husband, Barty, nor her brother-in-law were arrested. Bellatrix in grief and utter disbelief that the dark lord could ever do something so mortal as die, said “remember that other house our lord mentioned, THEY MIGHT HAVE INFORMATION, LET’S GO MURDER THE LONGBOTTOMS!” They torture and kidnap Frank, demanding he tell them where their master is, THEY KNOW HE KNOWS. He doesn’t know. They go too far and torture the man into being a vegetable. “Shit, GET THE WIFE!” They go get the wife, do the same thing, with the same results.

They now have no information on the dark lord, two well regarded aurors tortured into brain damage, and are quickly caught and brought before the court with absolutely no “I was imperiused” excuse they can give out. 

How am I supposed to take her in any way seriously?

I mean, to end your life killed in a duel with Molly Weasley. That just says it all.

[mochegato]

Hope on Board

Chapter 4 – Acing the Test by Not Preparing Properly    

Chapter 1     Chapter 3

“Are you under the impression the third test might give you a different result?” Adrien asked with a strained amusement.

“We’ve seen stranger things,” Marinette spared a glance from the test on the counter in front of her to glare at him.  “And if I was in any way lucky,” this time she glared at Tikki who shrunk away behind Adrien while Plagg cackled at her, “it would.”

She returned her attention to the test only to give an aggravated yell.  “Son of a bitch!”  She grabbed the edge of the bathroom counter to support her as she folded over gasping for breath.

Adrien nodded thoughtfully. “It might be.”

She turned her head to glare at him.  “Are you kidding me!  Really?” He gave her a sheepish shrug even as he grimaced.  She groaned and collapsed on the floor, leaning against the wall and pulling her knees into her chest.  The distant thought occurred to her that she wasn’t going to be able to do that for much longer.  She wasn’t going to be able to do a lot of things for much longer.  God, how could she be so stupid.  She pulled her hair in frustration.

She was just starting up her business.  She had just entered into a partnership that was supposed to last at least two years. How was she going to manage the project if she was throwing up and had to take months off to take care of the baby? What if there were complications? How was she going to take care of the baby?  How was she going to support a baby if her business failed?  But how was her business going to succeed if she was focusing on making sure her baby had the attention they deserved.

She was broken from her spiraling thoughts by a weight across her shoulders.  She turned her head, still letting it rest on her knees, to look at Adrien.  He reached over to wipe away the tears she only then realized she had been crying. “It’ll be okay, Bugaboo.  There are options if you don’t want the baby and if you do, there are options.”

She gave him a weak smile, keeping her head on her knees for a few more moments before switching to lay her head on his shoulder.  “How am I supposed to get my company up and running and raise a baby on my own?  It takes so much time, both of them.  I’m half a world away from my family and most of our friends, fresh out of school, starting a business, entering a new partnership, which might get reneged if I can’t fulfill the requirements, and all alone. How do I do this?”

Adrien hugged her closer. “You’re not alone, Princess.  I’ll be right by you every step of the way. Even when you tell your parents.”

She gave a halfhearted laugh. “Yeah, that’s going to be a bloodbath.”

Adrien rested his head on hers.  “No it won’t. Do you have any idea how excited your Dad is going to be about being a grandfather?  They’re going to be worried about you.  They’ll have the same concerns for you that you do.  They won’t be mad.”

“The father might be,” she hedged.

Adrien was silent for a moment.  “You’re going to tell him?”

“I think he deserves to know. This baby might have a loving family nearby.  I don’t want to take that away if it is available.”  Her voice was starting to get stronger.  This was a decision she could control.  She could control whether she invited the father to be a part of their lives.  She couldn’t control his answer, but she could control the ask.

“You’re not worried about the weapons?” Adrien asked carefully.

“I am.  But Tikki is right, it could be an innocent explanation. I owe it to him to have the chance to explain.”

Adrien nodded, determination settling in his eyes.  “Okay, we tell him.”

“We?” she asked with an amused smile.

“We,” he confirmed.  “I said you weren’t going to do this alone. I meant it.  I’ll be there to support you.  I’ll help you find him and stay nearby when you tell him, if you want me to.”  He squeezed her again.  “So, what do you remember about where he lives?”

“It had a kitchen with weapons, a living room with a comfortable couch, and a bedroom with a bed that didn’t squeak,” she deadpanned.

He shot her a playful glare. “You can’t remember anything?”

“I remember… it was a door in the middle of a long corridor of doors on a floor a few floors up in a building in Gotham.”

“Oh that’s helpful.”

“I don’t know!” She threw her hands up in exasperation.  “I was still drunk and panicked and swung away as Ladybug so I don’t even have stores I passed to go off of.”

“What do you remember, for real this time?”

She turned to stare at a point in the distance, trying to focus her mind and order her thoughts. What did she remember?  Not much.  She had flashes.  She remembered the feelings he stirred in her.  She smiled nostalgically as she described her memories.  “A smile, a touch, his eyes looking soft and sweet. The feeling of being watched out for, of being wanted, more than just physically.”

Adrien gave a long suffering sigh and collapsed his legs to the bathroom floor.  “Well that’s helpful to track him down.”

Marinette rolled her eyes and pushed him away.  “You asked what I remembered.  I didn’t even remember his name on my own.”  She groaned and hit her head against the wall behind her.  “Why did you let me go home with him?  You were supposed to be my voice of reason!”

“You said you were sure. You said it was cosmic intervention… I think.”  He rubbed his head as phantom pains returned.  “You remember more about that night than I do.”

She groaned again, this one taking a whinier tone than the previous groans.  “That was the sixth drink and eighth shot talking.”

“Well your eighth shot was very convincing to my ninth shot.”

“And how could I have not used a condom?  I couldn’t possibly have been that far gone that I didn’t demand protection.  Could he…” her body stilled, her mind froze as a horrifying thought occurred to her, “…could he have not used one?  And said he did?”

Adrien grimaced.  “Or he was drunk and thought he did.  Or thought you said not to.  Not that you did!  Just that he was really drunk and misinterpreted!” He rushed to add upon seeing her reaction to the suggestion.

“No, you used a condom,” Tikki offered quietly.  “Just not the whole time.”

Marinette’s head whipped to her.  “Okay, first, ew!  Why do you know that!  Were you watching?”

“No!” Tikki exclaimed indignantly.  “But voices carry, especially when they are very loud.” She gave Marinette a pointed look.

Marinette eyed her suspiciously but continued, “Second, what does that mean?”

Tikki sighed dejectedly. “It means you did stuff before you put it on.  And if you’re particularly lucky, that’s enough.”

“Oh my God,” Adrien muttered absentmindedly.

“Oh my God!” Marinette yelled, realization setting in.

“Yeah, I bet Tikki heard that a lot that night too,” Plagg cackled.

All three eyes shot to him in a glare that did nothing to diminish his laughter.

“You mean I’m pregnant because I’m Ladybug?  Because I was wearing the earrings?” Marinette whisper screeched.

“Not… entirely… but, it influenced it.  You’re the wielder of Creation.  It’s going to increase your chances of the right things happening in the right order to create life.  But you two are the ones who didn’t wear a condom for the whole act, allowing semen to be present and you two are the ones who gave each other multiple orgasms, which helped move the semen into the right position.  You very much could have gotten pregnant without any miraculous intervention.”

Marinette’s mouth hung open and her cheeks flushed in embarrassment.  “Multiple orgasms, huh?” Adrien asked waggling his eyebrows.

“Judging by the screaming, I’d say both of them were highly proficient,” Tikki nodded in confirmation.

“Oh my God,” Marinette whispered into her hands covering her face.  “This is a nightmare.  Not only am I pregnant, I have to hear this.  I cannot get a break.”

Adrien shrugged.  “It could be worse.  It could have been bad.”

“It doesn’t really matter if I couldn’t remember it,” Marinette pointed out.

“Yeah, but next time you’ll remember it,” he pointed out.

“If there is a next time,” Marinette sighed.

“There will be,” Adrien reassured her.  “It was cosmic intervention.  It will bring you back together again.”

Marinette shook her head and rested it on his shoulder with her eyes closed.  “I wish I was as optimistic as you.”

“It will all work out eventually.  Until then, you have commissions to finish before the gala, including your dress. You need to look impeccable so we can network for your company.”

Marinette groaned and dropped her legs to the ground.  “Can’t I just fall apart for one minute, please?”

“Nope.  You need to get back to work doing something you love and can focus on.  If it happens to be something that calms you as well?  Well that’s just good for you and the baby.  Come on,” he stood up and offered her his hand to help her up, “you start working and I’ll go out and get some pregnancy supplies for you.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “I think you’re more excited about this than I am.”

“You’re going to have a baby! You have a little bug in the oven! If you don’t break it to your dad with a pun, he and I will be so disappointed,” he gave her a mock stern look before pulling her into a comforting embrace.  “You’re going to be ecstatic about this, too, once the shock wears off.  I know you and I know you’re going to be an amazing mom,” he whispered with a kiss to the top of her head.  “And I’m going to be the fun uncle that he, she, or they gets really excited to hang out with and takes them for ice cream and he comes to whenever she has problems they can’t go to you about.” He gave her an excited smile as he thought about the future.

“Now move.  The gala’s coming up in just a few weeks and you have a ton of work to finish and you’re going to be panicking about letting Tim down and you’re not going to be able to chug coffee and energy drinks anymore.”  

Marinette emitted a woeful, agonized moan that even the neighbors heard.

Chapter 5

Tags:

@dickinette-february @demonicbusiness

[cacoetheswriting]

champagne problems, ch.10

Spencer is in love with you, but you’re engaged to someone else.

Chapter Ten: Feels Like We Only Go Backwards: A choice is made. A/N: chapter is titled after this song if you want to listen while reading. Word Count: 2.4k Warnings: swearing, heartbreak, unrequited / unreciprocated love, jealousy, talk of breakup/s, serious serious angst, disclaimer [& spoiler warning], this chapter is not a happy one. this whole series is a real slow burn.

series masterlist

A/N: as always, thank you for all the love you’re giving this story. we have about six chapters left to the end and words cannot describe how grateful i am to you for sticking with me and my rambling writing. ENJOY !

-

A significant weight was lifted off Spencer’s shoulders the second he told you how he truly felt about you. Actually, it was more the second you said you loved him back.

Even though the two of you distanced yourselves from one another, giving you the space to really think about your future and who you wanted to spend it with, the week that followed the admissions was considerably good.

Yes, the brunette doctor continued to feel uneasy about the situation he put you in. Uneasy about the choice you eventually would have to make. However, as days went by he noticed it didn't seem to bother you. No. You were oddly chirpy and cheerful. Spencer couldn't help but feel like it was because of him.

Like your choice was already made, and that choice was him.

“Do you have plans tonight?” You asked in a hushed tone, slyly glancing around the bullpen to ensure no-one else was paying attention to you and the doctor.

Spencer shook his head. “Not entirely, no.”

Your lips curled into a smile at his response. “So you wouldn’t mind if I came over?” You asked, gently tapping your fingers in a walking motion against his desk. They stopped next to his hand - you could feel it was there, yet you didn't move your fingers further in fear of someone seeing. “There’s something I want to talk to you about.”

Spencer mouth twitched into a pleasant smirk. He should have been nervous, what if you were going to break the news you were choosing Ethan? He should have been anxious, the thought of losing you all over again, he couldn't imagine how awful that would feel. Yet he didn't feel any of those things.

Judging by your relaxed body language. Your hand just aching to touch his. The way your eyes glistened looking at him. Your elated tone as you spoke. It didn't take a genius, a profiler, or even someone that knew you as well as him, to say these were all indicators whatever you wanted to talk to him about was happy.

“Of course.” He cleared his throat. “What time do you think-”

“I’ll let you know, okay? I know you like to switch off for the weekend so keep your phone on you for me.” You traced a finger against his knuckle and with one last smile, ambled elegantly towards the exit.

Yes - Spencer deducted - whatever you wanted to tell him was going to be good news.

A knock on the door grabbed Spencer’s attention. He quickly examined the place one last time, to ensure everything was clean and, well, perfect for you.

Satisfied, he eagerly crossed his living room and without thinking twice, expecting to see you on the other side of the door, he opened it.

“Hey Spencer.”

But it wasn’t you. It was the last person he ever expected to see.

“E-Ethan, what ehm, what are you doing here?” Spencer asked.

Ethan smirked at the question, slowly sliding his hands into the pockets of his coat. “We need to talk, don’t you think?”

Spencer swallowed, but before he got a chance to reply the surgeon continued. “Actually, I’ll talk and you can listen. Also don’t bother inviting me inside because I’ll keep this brief and to the point.”

Your fiancé cleared his throat. “Imagine my surprise when I found out my wife-to-be still has feelings for her ex boyfriend. Did you know she is actually on her way here to tell you she’s choosing you? Yeah... Now, she doesn't know that I know. Her plan is to inform me tomorrow, after my shift at the hospital, that the wedding is no longer happening and our relationship is over.” He paused, almost as if he was daring Spencer to interrupt him at any moment and defend your honour.

Which in hindsight is something Spencer should have done.

“So here’s how this is going to do, doctor.” He slurred. “When she comes here, you're going to turn her down. You've broken her heart once before, I’m pretty sure you know how to do it again.”

Spencer stepped forward and opened his mouth to protest, but the surgeon impolitely cut him off. “Look, you’re a smart guy. Some sort of genius, right? I think deep down you know Y/N is better off with me. I can provide for her in ways you can't even comprehend. I am going to give her a life you can only dream of Spencer.”

“I think you’re forgetting it’s not all about the money.” Spencer stated coldly. His eyes narrowing. Jaw clenching.

Ethan chuckled callously. “Of course not. But I think you need to consider how much disposable income can improve life. I have the ability to ensure we buy our dream home. I have the ability to invest in a second home for her father, and move him somewhere closer to us. With me, Y/N will be able to quit her job and no longer risk her life on a daily basis. She will be able to spend time with our future kids, in a beautiful home, completely care free.”

He let out a deep sigh. “Did she even tell you she’s been thinking about transferring out of the BAU? She doesn't want to be a profiler anymore. Fuck man, she doesn't even know if she wants to be a SSA anymore. The only reason she’s sticking around is you.”

The statement caught Spencer completely off guard. Ethan had to be bluffing, right? He would say anything to ensure you stayed with him, right?

“You’re lying.” Spencer grumbled through his teeth.

Ethan smirked in response. “I’m really not though. Ask anyone. Her dad, it was actually he who suggested it in the first place. Or your friend Penelope, she seems to think it’s a good idea.”

Spencer’s world was crumbling down around him and he was helpless to stop it. Why didn't you tell him this was on your mind? Why did you keep this a secret? And how did he not see any inclination of this before?

“Like I said, you’re a smart guy Spencer.” Ethan stated. “I think you know what the right thing to do is.” And with that, he walked away leaving the brunette agent alone with his thoughts.

Slowly, Spencer closed the door. He turned on his heel and leaned against it while letting out a long winded breath, one he didn't even realise he was holding.

He never wanted to stand in the way of your plans. He didn't want to be the one holding you back from anything. Was his ever growing love for you clouding his judgement?

He closed his eyes, resting against the door behind him. The guilt he was now feeling riddled him from head to toe. And mixed with the guilt was a faint feeling of anger. Anger directed at the man that dared to get between your relationship with the brunette agent.

Ethan, a name of Hebrew origin that means firm, enduring and strong. A good name for good people.

Spencer knew off many Ethan’s in his lifetime. His college friend, an old colleagues son - all people that definitely lived up to the meaning. Yet your fiancé was anything but.

This Ethan was arrogant, rude, possessive. In Spencer’s mind, this Ethan was quite literally the physical embodiment of the curse word dick.

He never truly understood what you saw in the guy. He always thought you could do a lot better. Even if it wasn’t Spencer himself, there are men out there a lot kinder than Ethan.

And yet, despite all of the resentment he felt towards the man, Spencer couldn't help but feel like there was some truth to what he had said. The hazel-eyed man started doubting himself. Doubting whether he really had your best intention at heart, or whether his own selfishness was preventing him from making sure you’re living your best life.

This was supposed to be a happy day. A happy evening. 

It certainly started out that way. You were on your way here to tell him you were choosing him. You were choosing to spend the rest of your life with him.

Spencer felt sick to his stomach. Dizzy. He was sure if he opened his eyes even just for a second he would collapse. He also knew the only rational thing, the right thing to do will only make him feel worse.

The brunette agent wasn’t entirely sure how long he stood frozen like that. His breathing shallow. Heart sinking, heavy.

A knock on the door behind his back caused him to slowly open his eyes, yet he didn't move an inch. He simply couldn't. He couldn't bare to face you. He couldn't bare to look you in the eye and break your heart for a second time.

Instead, he chose the childish way out. He hoped if he was still enough, quiet enough, you would think he wasn’t home and leave. It is a conversation that cannot be avoided, but it would be a conversation for another day.

You knocked again, using a little more strength this time.

Spencer held his breath. Tears began to form in his eyes. Salty droplets that if he let escape, he knew they wouldn't stop falling.

He heard faint shuffling outside and for a split second he thought you gave up and walked away. For a split second he thought he bought himself more time. More time with the fantasy that the two of you would get your happy ending together. Foolish, he thought.

It was in that moment the mobile device in the back pocket off his pants started to buzz, vibrating against the door. The phone you asked he kept close to him earlier that day. The sound of the ringtone followed soon after completely giving away Spencer’s current location.

“Spencer?” The sweet sound of your voice coming through the wooden barrier between you caused the tears he was fighting to slowly trail down his face. The device stopped ringing. “I know you’re in there. Can you let me in?” You said, so blissfully unaware of what was about to happen.

Spencer turned around and pressed his forehead against the painted wood. His hand travelled to the door knob, yet he still didn't move any further. “I-I... I c-can’t...” He managed to blurt out.

“What do you mean you can’t?” He heard you ask, the hint of confusion in your tone aching his heart further. “Spencer, what’s going on?”

The brunette doctor licked his lips and swallowed, tasting the saltiness of his own tears. “Y-you should go Y/N.” He uttered.

“Go? Spencer, you’re not making any sense.” You responded, the door knob rattling under Spencer’s fingers. “Please let me in. I’m not going to say what I want to say through a door.”

“Don’t s-say it at all. You should be with E-Ethan. Your future will be brighter with him.”

Silence. Unbearably heartbreaking silence.

At first you thought your ears were playing tricks on you. There was no way he just said that, right? A week after he told you he loved you. A week after he said he'll always wait for you. A week after he proposed. There was no way he changed his mind.

And then you thought of his time in prison. More specifically the day you went to visit him for the last time. The day you wanted to propose. The day he broke your heart.

He used those exact words - “Your future will be brighter without me.”

Slowly, you placed the palm of your hand on the door between you and took in a deep breath. Your eyes glossed over as the confusion rushing through you evolved into sadness.

Spencer could pinpoint the exact moment the air changed around him. It was suddenly tense. Broken. He felt like a coward. Even if he had your best interest at heart, he should still be able to face you and explain his side in person. Tell you that Ethan came by. Tell you everything that was said. Ask about your plans to leave the BAU. Ask whether he really was the only reason you haven't resigned yet. But he couldn't formulate the words. He simply gave up. A coward.

“Spencer, I-I don’t understand...” You sobbed. “I-I thought-t you loved me.”

“I love you more than anything in this world Y/N.” He quickly replied, the palm of his hand now pressed against the wood. Unbeknown to him, against the exact same spot on the opposite side of the barrier was your hand. So close yet so far.

“Then let me in. Please. I-I came here to say I choose you. I want to be with you Spencer. Please... Please let me in.” You cried through the door. Spencer could hear the pain behind your words, the sorrow. It really took all the strength he had not to let you in.

“I’m sorry Y/N.”

Your hands trembling uncontrollably against the barrier between you and the man of your dreams.

His sudden change of heart left you completely speechless. His words like tiny daggers stabbing directly into your bleeding heart. How did this happen? What changed between now and this morning? What changed between now and last week? You had so many questions. Ones that you feared would remain unanswered.

Additionally, your gut was telling you there was more to this than he was letting on. That it wasn’t as simple as ‘Ethan is the better man for you’ because you knew Spencer didn't believe that. But you couldn't find the strength within to argue with him.

“If-f that’s w-what you want Spencer, I’ll leave-e.”

It was the last thing he heard before the sound of your footsteps ushering away.  

After a minute, the hazel-eyed agent moved to the couch and sunk into the material. Every fibre of his being was currently aching. He hoped he did the right thing, although the voice at the back of his mind said no. What else was he supposed to do? He knew Ethan wouldn't just give up. Was Spencer prepared to fight for you? If tonight was any inclination the answer would also be no.

Spencer’s gaze locked onto the small box in the middle of his coffee table.

It was a considerably good week, and it was supposed to end a hell of a lot better than this.

Every part of me says, "Go ahead" But I got my hopes up again, oh no, not again

-

A/N: i hope you liked this chapter! and i am so so sorry for giving y’all false hope with the last one! i promise these there are happy times ahead for these two just not quite yet... as always i’d love to hear your feedback! if you would like to be added to a taglist, please let me know. thank you for your continuous support. with love, mal. x

masterlist | series masterlist | series playlist

story taglist: @girloncorneliastreet, @haylaansmi, @rexorangecouny, @l0ve-0f-my-life, @obsssedwithjustaboutanything, @aperrywilliams, @sassy-hades, @rainsong01, @reverdevivre, @dracomikaelson, @softieekayy, @lunaofcrows, @andrewhoezierbyrne​, @blameitonthenight21, @lyl-26, @do-yr-research, @nazifa94, @stepsofthefbi, @chatterbug2-0

spencer reid taglist: @no-honey-no, @calm-and-doctor, @idroppedmygourd, @averyhotchner, @wowitsel, @elldell1204, @hey-there-angels, @reidabookforonce, @ellesgreenaway​

[everlarkficexchange]

The Hope that gave me hope

Written by: @ameliaodair​

Prompt 156 - Toastbaby’s perspective from the womb throughout pregnancy. Bonus points from post-birth moments. [submitted by @lovely-to the-bone/ @peetamewllark​ ]

Thank you @lovely-tothe-bone for this amazing prompt!

Word Count: 5137

Rated: K-T

Unbeta’d, edited by me

SPOILER ALERT: Anyone reading my stories, “Changing the Game” or “Another Way Out” this story DOES contain spoilers for events yet to come.

Okay, so I tweaked this prompt just a little… Instead of post MJ, this story will coincide with my Hunger Games rewrite (Changing the Game, Another Way Out, and TBA) Toastbaby’s perspective from inside the womb as Katniss goes through the arena and her time in 13.  I hope you guys like it and if you are interested in some of the things “Little One” hears/experiences, then you should check out my stories.  You can find them on A03 and FFN.

***I tried to stay true to the facts of a fetus growing (what they are doing and when) in utero, but some things may have been adjusted***

Also, as I was writing this story, a memory resurfaced from when my kids were little, and I would take them to Temple on Friday nights for Tot Shabbat.  Before I give you my story, here is a little background on Leilah, the Angel of Conception.

You know that little indentation above your lips, and (under your nose? Okay, well, keep that in mind) So, the story goes that the Angel Leilah chooses which souls inhabit which seeds and accompanies them in the womb, teaching them all the knowledge of the Torah (Hebrew Bible, ((I think)).  So, while the “baby” is in the womb, it has all the knowledge and answers in the world and when you are born, your lungs fill with air, which results in crying and Leilah tells the baby to “Ssshhh” and presses her finger to their lips, which is what causes that little indentation and thus, wiping their memory…and they have to learn everything all over again.  (At least that’s how I think it goes) Anyway, I really wanted to incorporate that story into this one, so here goes.

The Hope that gave me hope

“Listen closely child, your next journey will not be an easy one.  The world has taken a turn for the worst; war and famine has devastated much of what remains, ruled by a callous tyrant.  However, you will be conceived to a pair of great importance.  Together, they will change the world for the better, but not before enduring many hardships.  There will be pain, heartache, and deep suffering, but the end result will be well worth the struggle.”

Little One, squirmed in place as the Creator described her next assignment.

“A-are you certain they are the right ones for me?” Little One asked the Creator uncertainly, although she knew the answer.

“I am certain, Child,” his voice boomed, “Do you doubt me?  Have I ever led you astray?”

“No Sir,” Little One faltered.

“Have faith, Child,” the Creator continued, his voice much softer.  “Now go on.  Off you go.”

“But … I am frightened Sir,” Little One stumbled, shrinking back with her fear.

“What is there to be frightened of, my Child?”

“I do not enjoy the solitude, perhaps you could accompany me on my journey?”

The Creator laughed at Little One, his voice rattling the ground, “You will not be alone Child, Leilah will be with you the entire way.  She will not leave your side in the womb, not for a single moment.  She will spend her time teaching you all the knowledge of the world—”

“So that I may share it with my … what are they called again— parents?”

The Creator shook the earth again with his laughter, “Yes, they are called parents.  And no, you may not share it with them.  Leilah will be waiting for you on the outside just before your entrance into the world and the moment your lungs fill with air, your consciousness of her given knowledge will be erased.  You must rely on your parents for wisdom and guidance.”

“But Sir— what is the point?” Little One asked, her face contorting into a confused expression.

“No more questions, Little One, it is time for you to descend.  Time is of the essence; Leilah has chosen the perfect … ah … specimen for you to inhabit, but like I said, time is of the essence.”

“I have one more question Sir, if I may.”

“Yes Child?”

“What will be the names of my … parents?” Little One asked.

The Creator chuckled at her question, “Katniss and Peeta,” he said, patting her on the head just before he sent her on her way.

Gestation Period: Weeks 1-4

‘It’s dark.  But I’m warm.  I’m comfortable.  I think I like it in here.’  Little One thought to herself as she burrowed herself deep inside her mother’s womb, her cells multiplying at the perfect rate.

Gestation Period: Week 6-8

Although her ears are not developed just yet and she cannot hear a thing, Little One can sense that her mother is distraught and plagued with sadness.  ‘Why are you sad, Mother?’  Little One pondered.

“It is okay Little One, your mother is just frightened.  She and your father just became aware of your existence and face many challenges ahead,” Leilah’s voice bounced against the walls of Little One’s new home.

‘Oh,’ Little One thought to herself. ‘Do … do they not want me; will I make it to my day of birth?’ Little One communicated, fearful of Leilah’s answer.  Little One knew that sometimes certain essences were not compatible with certain pairings and their journeys came to an end before it even had the chance to begin. Little One hoped this was not the case for herself.

“No dear, it is not that.  They are frightened because the world they live in is a harsh and cruel world.  They never desired to have children of their own— they did not wish their circumstances onto another.  But Little One, they already love you dearly, so do not fret.  Everything will work out as it was meant to.”  Leilah soothed Little One and began her teachings of the world.

Gestation Period: Week 12-16

‘What was that?’ Little One interrupted Leilah during a particularly boring story.

“Do not be frightened Little One, you are just sensing the vibration of excitement surrounding your mother.“

‘What are they excited about— is their excitement geared toward me?  And … and why do I sense discomfort in Mother?’ Little One was enigmatically in tune with her mother’s feelings and emotions, even from this early in her life.

“That is not for you to worry yourself over.  Soon, within the next few weeks your ears will become more developed, and you will be able to hear so much more.”

‘But … how do I hear you if I cannot hear?’ Little One asked, plagued with confusion.

Little One continued to ask question after question, so curious she was.  And the kind, patient Angel that Leilah was did her best to answer them all— to the best of her ability.

‘Why do I bounce up and down?’ Little One asked several days later.

“Those are called hiccups,” Leilah informed her.

‘Well, I do not like them,’ Little One retorted with a scowl.  Though she did not know it, it very much resembled her mother’s signature expression.

Leilah chuckled, “No, not many people do.”  Leilah smirked and continued her teachings of the world with Little One as she tried to mask her concern over the voices she heard.

“Oh, Katniss darling; we have missed you so much!” Someone on the outside crooned.  Leilah feared the worst from the shrill voices shrieking on the outside.  Those voices only meant one thing; Katniss, and most likely Peeta had returned to the Capitol, which meant they were headed back into the Games.  It was just as the Creator predicted and she worried for Little One’s life.

“Oh Katniss, Peeta, we’re so-so, sorry!” The voices on the outside hiccupped as they sobbed.

“It’s a … you’re a … a bird, it’s a—” a loud voice boomed, which caused Little One to bounce from side to side.

“A mockingjay,” Leilah heard Katniss confirm to the loud voice.

‘What is a mockingjay?’ Little one piped up from her slumber.

Gestation Period: 18 Weeks

“Hey there little nut—”

‘EEK!’ Little One internally gasped.  ‘What was that, OH! I am frightened!’ Little One called out in fear.

“Do not be alarmed Little One, it’s just your ears that are working.  It is your father’s voice that you hear.  Listen … he is speaking to you.” Leilah spoke softly, encouraging Little One to listen.

Little One sat as still as she could and listened intently as the deep melodic voice of her father reverberated off the walls of her perfect home.

“I’m going to call you Little Nut since we don’t know if you’re a boy or a girl, I hope that’s okay.  This is your father; my name is Peeta.”

‘Peeta,’ Little One tried the name in her head and smiled, deciding that she liked the way it sounded. ‘Yes, it is okay for you to call me “Little Nut”,’ Little One longed to tell her father.  She extended her arm up and waved her hand, wishing her father could see her new trick.

“Listen Nut, I’m not sure how we’re going to make it out of the arena, but I am going to do everything in my power to get you and your mom out of there.  I … I don’t know if I’ll ever get to meet you, but I just want you to know that … somehow, I WILL keep the two of you safe.  And … I just want you to know how much I love you and that you are so loved.  But don’t you worry, you will have so many people to love you and take care of you and … I just don’t want you to ever doubt my love for you.  You will have your mommy, and yes, she is scared right now, but she will be the best mommy you could ever ask for; ever hope for.  She is the strongest, bravest person I know, and she will teach you so much.  When you get bigger, she’ll teach you how to use a bow and arrow, and … and if you ever do something that upsets her, just bring her some cheese buns.  Your Grandpa Bing can teach you how to make them, or your Uncle Rye.  Cheese buns are her favorite; she won’t be able to stay mad at you for long if you bring her cheese buns.  Oh!  In case you were wondering, Bing is my dad, and Rye is my brother.”

‘Cheese buns, gee, I hope I will remember that.’ Little One knew she wouldn’t, but she continued to sit in silence, soaking up her father’s every word and finding solace in his soothing voice.

“Then there is your Aunt Prim.  That’s your mom’s sister.  Oh, she’s going to fall in love with you the moment she sees you.  Well, actually, she is probably already in love with you.  She is probably really mad at me though.  Well, me and your mom.  You see, I did something.  When we went on stage for our interviews with Caesar, I um … I told the world about you.  I hadn’t planned on doing it; it kind of just … came out.  So, everyone back at home is probably a little shocked right now, and they probably aren’t sure if I was telling the truth.  But your Aunt Prim, and your Grandma Lilly, they are healers, and I am almost certain that after my shocking announcement they’re putting the pieces together and they know you’re real.”

‘What is Father talking about?  I am so confused.  What is ‘interview’ and ‘Caesar’ and ‘arena’?  I just like the sound of Father’s voice, so I don’t really care right now. Please Father, please talk some more,’ Little One wanted to tell him.

“Oh, Little Nut, I don’t want to leave you, I really don’t.  I want to watch you grow, I want to meet you and know you.  It hurts so much thinking I will never get the chance to be your dad.  I want nothing more in this screwed up world than to hold you, hug you and kiss you— to rock you.  And … and when you get older, I would teach you how to paint—”

‘Yes, I think I would like that, too.’ Little One agreed with Peeta.

“But … things aren’t looking so good for me, so … I don’t even know if you can hear me, but, oh, I … I just love you so much, okay?”

Little One heard sniffles and she recalled her lesson with Leilah on emotions and crying.

‘Please Father, do not be sad.  We will see each other soon, I promise,’ Little One so badly wanted to comfort her father.

Gestation Period: 18 Weeks and 4 Days

‘Why do I find comfort in this?’ Little One asked Leilah as she placed her thumb into her mouth and began sucking.

“It has to do—” Leilah was interrupted by Peeta’s voice once again as he spoke to his daughter.

“Hello again Little Nut, it’s me, your dad.”

‘T-that’s my father!’ Little One began bouncing up and down with excitement.

“I just … I just wanted to tell you I love you just in case this is the end.  You stay in there and you stay strong for your mama.  I hope … I hope I will get the chance to meet you, but if not, just know how much I love you Little Nut, okay?”

Little One felt something pressing against her, causing her to shift to the other side of the cozy womb.  Then, she heard her father’s voice once more, but this time it was further away, “I’ll see you at midnight.  Everything will go as planned, just like we talked about, okay?”

“Okay,” although her mother’s firm voice resonated strength, from deep inside her body, Little One could feel the trembling in her voice, which was undoubtedly filled with fear.  ‘Mother does not believe his words?’ Little One intuited.

‘Father’s voice is gone, and I so want him to speak to me again; I really like his voice.’ Little One whined.

Leilah knew what was happening on the outside and she didn’t want Little One to worry.

“Pay attention to me, Little One, do not concern yourself with the outside noises.  It is time for our next lesson.” Leilah said, hoping to distract Little One from the fight going on outside.

Outside, Katniss and Johanna were running, stringing Beetee’s wire from the lightning tree to the beach, and then Johanna blindsided Katniss, knocking her out with a giant log— all to cut her tracker out.

‘I do not feel so good, I wish to take a nap,’ Little One said as a result of Katniss losing so much blood.  Leilah sang Little One a song that offered comfort and nestled the growing baby in her heart while she pleaded with the Creator to watch over them all.

For a long time, there was silence and Little One wondered what was happening.  Sometimes she could hear voices from far away and she longed to know who they were.  Who they were to her, to her mother— her father?  Are they the family her father spoke so fondly of?

And then finally, one day out of the blue she finally heard her mother’s croaky voice echo off the walls of her warm home as Little One waved a hand in front of her face.  Though she could not see it anymore because her eyelids had become fused shut, she still knew that she was doing it.

Gestation Period: 21 Weeks

“Peeta!  Where’s Peeta?  And … what about the baby?” Little One startled from a deep slumber to hear her mother shrieking, her voice tremulous with panic.

“My apologies Miss Everdeen, the fetus was unable to withstand the blast when the arena exploded.  You had a miscarriage,” an icy voice commanded the room, which resulted in Little One bobbing up and down as her mother started shaking.  Little One could hear her mother’s heart accelerating and her breathing quickening.

‘Wait, what?  No, no … do not believe them, Mother, I am still here!’ Little One tried to reach her mother— to no avail, who was crying so hard.

“No, no, no.  No, you’re wrong.  I— I would feel it if she— if the baby were gone.  Just like with Peeta, I would feel it, and I still feel her—” her mother tried to reason with the people surrounding her.

“I’m sorry Miss Everdeen—” The icy voice said, though she did not sound apologetic at all.

There was a loud bang, and then stillness.

‘I do not understand, why are they denying my existence?  I am still here, right?’ Little One reached out to Leilah for confirmation.  She was not ready for her journey to be at its end.

“Yes darling, you are still very much alive.  They are confused, that’s all.” Leilah assured Little One, though, she knew the truth.

Gestation Period: 21 Weeks and 2 Days

“Katniss, if you have any intentions on keeping your baby alive, you need to stay calm and do exactly as I say,” a soft voice, not the icy one spoke to Little One’s mother.

“W-what?”

“If you can keep a secret, so can I, but I need you to stay calm,” and then Little One heard the nice voice saying words like pressure and elevation, but all she cared about was that her mother knew she was still alive and safely inside her.  Little One was counting on her to keep them okay.

‘I do not understand, why would that voice lie to my mother?  Why would she tell her I am no longer, when I AM?’ Little One pleaded to Leilah, overcome with confusion.

“People lie my dear.  Sometimes it is to shield others from pain, but oftentimes it is for vindictive reasons— for their own selfish gain.  But do not worry yourself over this matter, we have much to cover before our time is up.”

Gestation Period: 23-26 Weeks

The next few weeks, or perhaps it’s months, it’s difficult for Little One to tell time from inside her mother, but somehow— she can feel her father’s presence, yet she does not hear his voice.

‘Where did Father go?’

“He is away for now, but do not fret Little One, he will return very soon.” Leilah assured her and began to distract her with more of life’s lessons.  For days and days, weeks even, Leilah filled their time with the teachings of the world.  Leilah knew what was going on in the ‘outside’ and she did her best to keep Little One’s mind occupied.

“That THING isn’t Peeta,” Little One heard her mother shout over and over.  And then she heard many words she did not recognize, words Leilah had never explained to her.  Hijacking, enemy, snow, weapon.

“Don’t you worry Little Nut; we’ll bring Daddy home soon.  He’s finally awake, and him and your Grandma Effie are coming home soon; well, if you can actually call this place home,” Little One was reassured by her mother’s promise— her heart accelerated at the mention of her father’s return and she stretched her leg out in excitement.

“Unh!” Katniss exclaimed, “was that you, Little Nut?” Katniss asked Little One when she felt the fluttering in her abdomen.

Little One repeated this action in response to her mother’s racing heart.

“That’s right, baby.  We’ll get daddy back really soon, I promise.  That- that thing they brought back from the Capitol is NOT daddy— I don’t care what they say.  Peeta— your dad would never hurt me, no matter what.  We’re going to rescue him— him and Effie, and they’re going to do it soon, or … or I won’t be their stupid mockingjay.”

After that conversation, Katniss spoke to Little One often, filling her in and sharing many details about the world outside.  Little One would always try to stretch an arm or a leg to tell her mother she was listening.  That she believed in her.  That she trusted her.

Gestation Period: 26 Weeks and 5 Days

“K-Katniss?” Little One’s head twitched to the side when she heard the familiar voice.

‘Is … is that—’ Little One stuttered in excitement, yet she didn’t want to get her hopes up.  It had been SO long since she last heard her father’s voice.  Granted, this voice was croaky and sounded almost nothing like him, but something deep inside her knew it was him.

“Yes, Little One, it is your father.  He has finally returned.” Leilah answered her.

Little One thought that having her father back within arm’s reach would have given her mother some relief from all the tears she succumbed to each night, but instead, she cried even more.

‘Why is Mother still so sad?’ Little One asked Leilah during another particularly boring lesson.

Leilah didn’t want to burden the child with all the pain going on outside, so she just said, “Your father is just going through some adjustments.  Do not worry, they will find their way back to each other, it will just take some time.”

Gestation Period: 27 Weeks

‘W-what was that?’ Little One asked when she heard a new sound echoing off the walls of her perfect home.

“That is your mother.  She is singing to you.” Leilah informed Little One.

‘I … I like it … it’s beautiful,’ Little One crooned, swaying to the sound of her mother’s voice.

Little One tried to stretch her leg out to reassure her mother she was here for her, but it seemed her perfect home had shrunk.  Anxiety consumed her as she wondered what would happen when she no longer fit.

“Do you remember our discussion entailing your day of birth?” Leilah hummed to Little One.  “When this home no longer suits your needs, you will be welcomed into the world.  That is when your true life shall begin.  It will be cold, bright and scary, but your parents will love, nurture, and soothe you.  They will be your new home— they will provide you with all that you need to sustain your life.  Though, it is not safe for you to enter that world until you have used up every single big of space in this home.  Do you understand?”

‘Y-yes,’ Little One apprehensively answered Leilah, recalling a lesson from some time before.  She wasn’t sure if she was going to like this ‘New Home.’  The one that she was currently in was perfect and she loved it in here.  Why did that have to change?  Why did she have to keep growing?  What if she just … stopped.  Could she choose to stay in this perfect, warm, and cozy home forever?

“Stop thinking so hard, and you know the answer to that.” Leilah interrupted Little One’s thoughts.  “Everything grows, just as everything dies.  It is the circle of life.  One day, it will be you who grows a person inside of your body and then you will understand.”

Little One giggled and thought, ‘That’s so silly!’

Gestation Period: 29 Weeks

‘Leilah,’ Little One began; it was the first time she had ever addressed Angel Leilah by her name, and it made her squirm uncomfortably.

“Yes, dear?”

‘What is the point?  Why do you teach me all the knowledge of the world before I am born, only to distinguish it from my mind at birth?  It just … it seems … pointless.’

“Yes, I can see how you would see it that way, but I promise you, my child, there is a reason.  There is a reason for everything.  Do you remember our lesson about the tangible things in the world, like ‘paper’ and ‘pencils’, and things like ‘writing’?”

‘Yes, I think so.’

“If you write your feelings down on a piece of paper and then erase it, so that it is no longer visible to the naked eye, does that mean it is gone forever?  My child, the knowledge will always be within you, and as certain things in your life come to pass, you will get a glimmer of a feeling … as if a moment is familiar.  That is how you will know the path you are on is the right path for you at that time.  Just because I erase the memories of all your knowledge, that does not mean it is gone forever.”

‘Okay,’ Little One listened intently and agreed.

Gestation Period: 32 Weeks

As her time in the womb was growing shorter and shorter, Little One grew more nervous and anxious with each day that passed.  She could still hear voices on the outside, but the rumbling and gurgling coming from inside her mother drowned most everything out.  The space in her home was getting tighter and tighter— she could barely move at this point.  The walls around her home kept squeezing her for a moment, but they would relax almost immediately.

‘I’m not sure that I like that,’ Little One frowned.

“It is just your mother’s body practicing for your birth.  It is natural.  Now, we must focus, it is almost time.”

The squeezing got worse.  Instead of squeezing her for a few seconds here and there, it lasted for minutes and minutes.  Not only did the squeezing last longer, but it became harder and tighter.

Gestation Period: 35 Weeks and 6 days

“My dear child, it is time.” Leilah announced one night.

‘But … NO!’ Little One cried.  ‘I … I still have room, it- it can’t be time yet, I’m not ready!’

“No one is ever ready for change, but I fear our time is up.  It is indeed early, quite early actually, but it will all work out as it was meant to, just as I told you many months ago.”

Little One was frightened, because her entry into the world was not happening in the exact way Leilah had described.  Instead of being squeezed down by the walls of her home, where she would be pushed down, down, and eventually squeeze through a narrow canal to enter the world, a slit of light was breaking through the walls of her home.

‘What is happening, I am scared!’

“I will meet you on the other side, sweet girl, and all will be well.” Leilah assured Little One.

The slit grew bigger and bigger and creatures that looked too foreign to be human— they had bland, grey suits on, and masks over their faces, pulled Little One out.  They stuck something up each of her nostrils and then inside of her mouth, which made Little One gasp for air.

Little One opened her eyes and for the first time, she saw Leilah.  She was beautiful and glowing— radiating a brilliant light.

“Shhh,” Leilah comforted her, pressing her finger to Little One’s lips to calm her— and then she was gone.

Little One’s lungs filled with air and she cried.  She cried and she wailed.  She shrieked and she shrilled.  She wanted to tell these strange creatures, ‘Put me back!’

She was so scared, there were so many people, none that she recognized … until him.  She didn’t recognize him, but his voice; it was her father.  Peeta.  He walked over to where she was lying and looked down at her.  The moment she met his sparkling blue eyes— she knew she was home.

Little One gasped and paused her shrill crying to stare at the  man looking down at her.

“Hello Hope, I’m your daddy,” the beautiful, familiar-feeling, blue-eyed man spoke to Little One with tears in his eyes.  “Dylan Hope Mellark— that’s your name, beautiful girl.  Dylan was your grandpa’s name— your mommy’s daddy, but we both agreed it could work whether you were a boy or a girl.  But I think we’re just going to call you Hope.  Because that’s what you are to all of us.  Welcome to the world, Hope.”

Everything was scary for Hope.  Everything was bright, cold, and unfamiliar.  There were giant creatures poking, prodding, and tossing her around.  She was afraid they would drop her.

’Where did the man go?  The “Daddy,” I want to see him again.' Hope thought to herself as she cried and cried.  Nothing was familiar and she didn’t like it.  She wanted to go back inside her perfect home where it was dark and warm— and snug.  And … and there was someone in there with her, but who was it?  She couldn’t remember.  But she did know that she didn’t like all the lights, the giant creatures and all the strange noises.

“Katniss, Katniss sweetie, wake up.  They’re bringing her back.” Hope was feeling a little better now, someone had swaddled her in warm blankets, and she almost felt like she was back inside her perfect home.  She wiggled, turning her head in the direction of the familiar voice— the one she recognized from earlier.  It was the man.  The daddy.  Someone picked her up and she felt as if she was flying in the air.  She was frightened for a moment until she realized they were giving her to the daddy.

When the daddy held her in his arms, Hope did not question if he would drop her— unlike the others, he held her gently and she felt safe.  When she opened her eyes, everything was fuzzy.  Even still, she could make out the blue of his eyes and wondered if her eyes looked like his.  She hoped so.

“Do you want to hold her?” The daddy asked.

“I-is she okay?” A softer— timid voice asked and Hope immediately recognized it as the voice— although clearer, without the whooshing and gurgling sounds from her previous home— but it was, without a doubt, the same voice she heard from deep inside her perfect home.

“She’s perfect,” the daddy beamed, his eyes sparkling with tears.  The daddy gently passed Hope to the woman, and Hope prepared herself to feel that feeling again— that flying-in-the air— afraid-to-fall, feeling, but it did not happen.  The daddy slowly and gently placed Hope in the woman’s arms and scooted into the bed next to her.  Hope squirmed and gasped, filling her lungs with air as she prepared to cry— not wanting the daddy to let her go, but then she froze when a familiar scent wafted up her nostrils.

‘Hey, I know that smell!’ Hope thought, excited from the familiarity and opened her eyes again to meet the blurry face of the owner of her perfect home.  But— like with the daddy— the moment the mommy cradled her in her arms, Hope knew she was safe in her new home.

“Hello, my beautiful girl, I’m your mama.  It’s nice to finally meet you,” the woman— “Mama” said to Hope, her chin quivering and tears leaking from the corners of her eyes.

“She’s so beautiful,” the mama turned her head to the daddy.  The daddy leaned over and stroked Hope’s cheek with his finger.  Hope liked the way his finger felt, and she relaxed a little more.

“Yes she is— just like her mother,” the daddy gleamed with pride, staring in awe at Hope.

“I can’t believe we made this beautiful girl,” the mommy said to the daddy with more tears in her eyes.

The daddy snuggled closer to the mommy, wrapping his arm around her and rested his chin on her shoulder, but not before kissing the mommy’s cheek.  “I love you Katniss.”

Hope let out a little wail and squirmed from side to side.

“Hey, hey,” the daddy said in a soft voice, “Of course, I love you too, my sweet girl.  The Hope that gave me hope.”

The mommy lifted Hope up, so that her head rested against the mommy’s chest.  Hope could feel a soft pounding against her cheek— and it was familiar.  So familiar.

Swaddled in her warm blankets, nestled safely in her mother’s arms and her father just inches away, Hope got a glimmer of a feeling— that she was exactly where she was meant to be.  In that instant she knew, that burrowed cozily between the mama and the daddy— she was home.

[postmodernmulticoloredcloak]

And now I’ve watched episode 3 of Walker because of reasons. (You guys asked, that’s reasons.) #2

If you guys haven’t seen part 1, go see it immediately. Because of reasons. This time, reasons is Slutty Glitter Cowboy Stripper. No, it’s not a joke.

Yeah, I’m not sure what’s happening either.

I can’t believe they’re airing cowboy strippers in Supernatural’s air slot and Dean Winchester isn’t there. I think this is why they had to kill Dean, because otherwise he would have ripped through the CW’s show layout and appeared in Walker sponteneously, instantly adopting Walker’s entire family and friends as his own and single-handedly implementing the depolicement of the state of Texas, with Castiel rolling his eyes at him in the background while he murders ICE agents at the US-Mexican border.

*slides the CW a twenty euro bill* so I have an idea for season 2 of Walker

Anyway, there’s this lady Walker and Ramirez are doing a stakeout on, a woman called Torreto who is presumably part of some criminal organization since they’re doing a stakeout on her, and who’s bisexual given she was being entertained by a lady and a guy at a strip club. Which is like, fine, not problematic at all, alright.

So the stripper straddles her and is like ~wanna come with me in the back, and she’s like ~maybe another time, and he’s like ~torreto i saw cops outside you probably wanna come to the back with me, and she’s like ~mmm yeah that sounds like a good idea. We were rooting for you, slutty glitter cowboy stripper! We were all rooting for you! Or not.

Meanwhile, Walker has horrible car manners.

Also, he asks her how her parents were to her growing up, which is a question you normally ask to people you’re not close to when you want to do some small talk. For some reason she brings up a friend she had some ~crazy teen years~ with, called Garrison, which doesn’t make me think of angels in Supernatural, no, I am a normal person.

But then people start coming out of the strip club, but not Torreto. So they go in.

Torreto is not there, so Walker just stops the first person he sees and he’s literally like ~excuse me, do you know if there’s someone in the back. The visual is hilarious

“Excuse me, sir, have you seen my brother from another show, I suspect he might be here”

Give me a spinoff about this strip club.

Anyway, the guys answers, “No, why, you two interested?” to which they immediately answer “no!” at the same time, and share a look which makes me think we’re supposed to be like ~~ooh, talking in unison moment! or something...?

Meanwhile their truck gets stolen, and Walker yells that his bobblehead is in there. Cue disgruntled Jared face.

Oh man. We are at the title card. It’s less than 6 minutes. This will never end.

It was night, now it’s day, and Stella and August are walking around Austin. He’s mimicking David Attenborough, describing the teenagers around them as though he was doing a documentary about animals.

Two girls approach them, bringing up a party that’s taking place tomorrow. She says it’s not the best idea with her court date approaching. The girls are like, your dad can figure something out, he’s an elite ranger or something and also owes you for disappearing for a year. She’s like, he’s being kind of cool, I don’t want to ruin this, and the girls “call BS” because this is like “the best party of the year”.

Ruby, the girl August has been hanging out with, appears and August goes from “nah the party is not my thing” to “I’ll totally be there” in like 0.02 seconds.

I cannot overstate how much I am not interested in high schooler drama.

Meanwhile, at the Walker Seniors’ place, Walker’s parents are preparing the table for a family dinner. From their banter we can infer someone’s who ~is like family although he isn’t “blood”~ is coming for dinner and Grandpa Walker doesn’t like him at all and actually expects the guy to steal their china and bourbon. “It’s been years, could you please give him a chance?” Grandma Walker says, and he accepts, although she grabs the fancy bourbon from behind his back.

Meanwhile, at the police station, all the cops are having a briefing about Torreto, the woman at the strip club. She apparently steals weapons all over Texas and sells them over the border at triple the cost. Remember that Torreto escaped from Walker and Ramirez because she stole their truck while they were inside the strip club. Ramirez is worried she’ll already become the laughingstock of the precinct.

Uh. James plays security camera footage from outside the strip club. Walker and Ramirez’ truck was stolen by Torreto and the cowboy stripper himself.

Obviously the other cops laugh when Ramirez admits it was her truck.

James tells them to find Torreto, find the truck, and find out who the naked cowboy is.

I have a bad feeling about this.

Then Walker drives home, and as soon as he gets out of his car, you know how in the Supernatural pilot Dean gets into Sam’s apartment and wrestles him before revealing it’s him to ~test if his fighting skills are rusty and laughs when Sam realizes it’s him? Alright, now think intensely and guess how Walker’s like-a-brother best friend is introduced. Think intensely! It’s really difficult to guess!

Something something about violence and male intimacy except this is too ridiculous to, you know, write something serious about it.

“Oh, man!” the guy laughs, lying on the ground where Walker threw him. “The look on your face!”

“You son of a-”

“Oh, c’mon man, don’t talk bad of a mother I never knew.”

I’m facepalming soooo hard. This is the first thing we learn about him (well, after the fact that he definitely stole something from the Walkers’ house in the past), that he never knew his mother!

HOLY FUCKING SHIT

GUYS

I AM SO SORRY

I am faceblind I didn’t realize

THE GUY IS THE STRIPPER

I REPEAT

THE “DEAN BUT IN JARED PADALECKI’S MIND” CHARACTER IS THE SLUTTY GLITTER COWBOY STRIPPER

THIS IS NOT A DRILL

I SWEAR MY HANDS ARE COLD AND CLAMMY

I AM EXPERIENCING EMOTIONS NO WORDS EXIST IN THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE TO DESCRIBE

Oh my god guys. I am so sorry.

“You did your touchdown victory dance before you stole my partner’s truck!” Walker exclaims. “I should arrest you right here and right now!”

The guy acts like he has no idea what Walker is talking about, and says he’s in town to see his best pal.

Walker keeps accusing him, but then his mother appears, super thrilled to see him, and Walker lets is go.

They’re at dinner (NotDean brought wagyu steaks, which obviously means he does crime for a living) and Walker’s mother tells him to say grace, which he does in a semi-serious, semi-mocking way. Obviously NotDean does not believe in god, but he’s grateful for the people around him.

Stella calls him uncle, in case you missed that this is supposed to be a friend whom Walker loves likeabrother.

He talks about jobs he did here and there, and Walker and his brother tease him asking if he’s been to some prisons around the country. Stella doesn’t get the joke and NotDean explains it to her, adding, “now, from what I hear, I’m not the only outlaw in this family”. Grandpa Walker leaves the room.

NotDean asks Stella if she’s going to the bonfire (the party they were talking about earlier) and tells her that her mother started the thing when they were young. She didn’t know that. This is supposed to be a Meaningful moment.

Meanwhile the stolen truck is found... at Walker’s ranch. Gasp! What a shocking turn of events.

NotDean gives Stella advice on how to act in court to get on the judge’s good graces, “which means acting”. “Please don’t get legal advice from a criminal” walker’s brother Liam says. Is the gay brother also a NotDean of sorts, to be fair? Well, CriminalNotDean tells her to dress her best and cry. ActualbrotherNotDean tells her to use the correct legal arguments. Walker just stops them, quoting something Ramirez said earlier in the episode, “nobody benefits from the easy route”. Stella is like, what does that mean, which, mood, but Grandma Walker interrupts bringing in a plate of different hot chilis. Apparently they have a tradition of a competition. Which we don’t even see. Boo.

Ramirez finds the truck... right outside the Walkers’ house. Grandpa Walker, who’d gone outside, points a rifle to her and she explains what she’s doing there. They introduce themselves and she is like, sir why is the man who stole my truck inside your house? “Wife invited him to dinner.”

She’s like, I need to arrest him. But he’s like, I bet there’s not enough evidence to arrest him, or my son would have done it. Join me for steak and burbon in the bunkhouse! As one does. So they have wagyu and bourbon together, and she asks him what’s the guy’s story.

So NotDean and Walker grew up together, NotDean had a rough life, “my wife has a soft spot for strays, she can’t give up on him”. But Grandpa Walker doesn’t feel the same. He tells her that she cannot arrest him tonight, but it’s only a matter of time before the guy gives her enough rope. He adds that Walker has a blind spot for faces from the past, and needs someone to fix that.

Meanwhile dinner’s over and NotDean calls a uber. He and Walker arrange to meet the next day and hang out like old times. Eventually, Walker tells him that if he is involved in this case, he will have to take him down. “Theoretically, if you catch me.” They do a manly hug with manly pats, and the guy leaves. “Theoretically, go to hell,” Walker says after he’s left.

The next day, NotDean brings Walker to a storage in the middle of nowhere... full of cursed objects, no wait, wrong show. What’s inside the storage is the red Mustang. Walker is shocked that he hasn’t lost it in some bet - which apparently is how he got the car from Walker in the first place. Now NotDean says that, after everything Walker’s been through, he deserves a chance to win it back.

Glowy flashback of Walker and his wife in the car, right after the scene in the beginning of the episode. They bet it during poker night, decision of Emily, because Walker is “starting to get attached to her”. Emily teases him for calling the car a she, and Walker decides to call the car Stella.

They gave their daughter the name of a car they lost at poker.

Oh. She tells him she’s pregnant.

So, apparently, they had their first daughter when they were broke, to the point they had to try and get money at poker for a bigger place and baby things. That’s... kind of irresponsible.

Meamwhile, Ramirez goes to James to tell him about the thing, but James already figured NotDean was involved, because apparently stealing things and returning them is just something he does. “Why are you so calm about this?” she asks. He says because they cannot pin anything on him. Questioning him could scare the big crime lady. So he tells her to just keep an eye on him. “Walker, Torreto or Hoyt [NotDean]” she asks. “Yes” he answers.

Blah blah. I apologize, I’m being too detailed. I’m just bored by this. Ah, a butcher’s truck was stolen right after the strip club thing, guess where NotDean got the wagyu steaks.

Walker and NotDean go to the bar with the bartender who’s their friend, and NotDean flirts with her. They start playing poker, when Ramirez arrives, and has some banter with NotDean and spills some glitter on him that she found in the truck. He buys her a drink and she arrests him for trying to bribe a police officer. Walker is shocked.

At the precinct, he says they cannot prove he’s working with big crime lady. But she brings up he stole the wagyu steaks.

She calls him out for trying to be everyone’s friend even if they do something wrong, also with Stella.

She says she can hold NotDean for 24 hours, long enough to figure out the big crime lady’s plans. Common trope in cop shows. Arrest someone without proof, you have to release them after 24 hours, but the cop finds proof and bam, forgiven for arresting someone without proof.

I know you’re bored, I’m bored too.

Actually, nope, it goes differently and kind of worse. In the interrogation room, Ramirez offers NotDean a deal: he tells her where the big crime lady’s weapon deal is happening, and walks free. He points the location on a map and he compliments her. Walker is watching from the cameras and is shook.

Meanwhile the bonfire is happening, and Stella is there with her girl friends. So is August, breakdancing to impress girls. We don’t care.

Meanwhile, a lot of cops in serious cop gear surround the location NotDean pointed at. Nobody’s there, though.

What is there, is the red Mustang with the creepy bobblehead in it and a letter from NotDean that says he gives him the car back because it was always his wife’s.

Walker figures out where the deal is actually happening - the storage where the red Mustang was before.

Meanwhile, at the bonfire, August is drunk on booze he stole from Grandpa Walker and brought to the party. He asks Stella if she’s trying to drive their father away, breaking the law and all, he asks if she wants him to leave again. Then he throws up. She calls Walker but he obviously doesn’t answer. So she calls her uncle, who’s doing shopping with his partner or something. They’re buying cake? Doing cake testing for their wedding? Maybe.

Meanwhile, NotDean calls Grandma Walker to tell her he cannot go mushroom hunting with her tomorrow but needs to leave town, and he’s sorry to let her down again. She tells him that just because his family’s bad, doesn’t mean he is too. “You saved my boy, and I’ll never forget that” she says. Oooh, that’s so intriguing!, nobody says. They share a cute moment and then he hangs up, while the weapon deal goes down around him.

Uncle Liam and his partner pick up the kids, and Stella asks him if he’ll be in court with her tomorrow. He says he can’t, because it’s her father’s decision to make.

August turns up music and they all sing in the car. It’s funny how everyone’s got better chemistry with everyone else except with Walker. I know it’s, like, on purpose for plot reasons, but still, Walker’s interactions with everyone feel so stilted compared to anyone else. And it’s not the other characters are that compelling.

The police arrives at the location of the weapon deal, and NotDean gets arrested trying to steal the truck again. Ramirez gives a speech how that’s hard but it’s the right thing to do. Walker makes a comment about tough love, implying Stella needs to get that too.

The next day, they leave for Stella’s court thing on the red Mustang. It took Walker three episodes, but now they also have a cool classic car to show off! Yay! *eyeroll*

Meanwhile, Grandma Walker and Grandpa Walker have a conversation about their failing marriage or something.

Ramirez goes to the bar to apologize to the bartender for arresting NotDean. They have a drink together and if lesbians were watching this they’d start shipping them, but no lesbians are watching this. They’re wiser than me.

Stella got like a gazillion hours of community service and her license suspended. She’s upset, but since she has her license for one more day he teaches her how to drive the Mustang.

Wait. Americans don’t learn to drive normal cars when they get their license?? They only learn to drive cars with automatic gear?? What the hell??

They drive while August runs after the car to get over his hangover or something.

Would be a cute moment if the entire thing wasn’t so cheesy and weird.

Well. We know NotDean is a recurring role so we’ll see more of him. (Well, I’m not sure I will be there to watch, because this is boring af.)

This episode used all its interest coins in the strip club scene and then became dreadfully boring. I don’t even have some witty line to close this post.

This was a rollercoaster that went my brain go through a blender in the first six minutes or so and then killed the remaining braincells through boredom.

That’s it guys. What can I say. This is the CW’s Walker. Yee.

[tlcwrites]

Little Things

Summary:

“Maybe this is cosmic payback for all the shit he’s done in his life. Maybe this is the galaxy reminding him that he doesn't get to fight a war, have unmeasurable blood on his hands, and get to live happily ever after.”

Word Count: 2058

Tags/Warnings: Poe Dameron/Female Reader, SFW, pregnancy, traumatic labor/childbirth experience, preterm labor, Dad!Poe, pre-eclampsia, premature birth, NICU warning, a big fucking pile of angst. 

Author’s Note:

So, @paper-in-ashes-fanfiction​ changed her avatar recently (see below). A normal person would have gone “Aww, what a nice picture of Oscar.” Me being me, went... well, let’s just say the reaction resulted in this 2,000 word angst-fest you’re about to torture yourself with read.

Even though it wasn’t my intention when I started, writing this was pretty cathartic for me. I (evidently) still had some trauma from the preterm labor and birth of my twins that I needed to work through. Which leads me to this:

I cannot emphasize enough, this work deals with preterm labor, premature birth, and traumatic labor/childbirth circumstances. PLEASE do not read if it will be triggering for you. I have been there. I do not want to put you there. Okay?

If you’re still with me, I sincerely apologize for torturing poor Poe like this hope you don’t murder me after you’re done enjoy.

(Continues in the same universe as Worth It.)

When Beka was born, Poe was stunned by the brutality of childbirth. Yeah, childbirth is a miracle and biology is fucking amazing. But it’s also brutal and bloody and terrifying and it’s one of the only times he’s ever seen you cry in the entire time he’s known you, and the two of you have lived through a war together.

He’d never felt as useless as he did then, watching you labor to bring his child into the galaxy. His fierce, strong wife; he’s known you are a badass ever since the very first time he’d met you, when he’d walked into the training facility to see you flip Finn backwards with one strike like it was nothing. But after witnessing you give birth to his child- you’re his warrior queen.

It’s not until Leila’s born that he realizes how easy Beka’s birth actually was in comparison.

You’d gotten very lucky; both your pregnancies had been relatively easy. It’s still several weeks until your due-date with Leila that you start to feel ‘off’, as you describe it to Poe. He’s concerned (“overbearing and overprotective” is how you phrase it), but you ask him to trust you to know your own body. He’s never carried a child, and you have. So he redoubles his efforts to make you as comfortable as possible, even recruiting BB-8 and Beka, in all her three-year-old energy, to help keep an eye on you.

The first sign is the nausea returning. Then the back pain. Then the headaches. By the time your hands and feet start to swell, you’ve settled Beka with Kes and are on your way to the hospital. You grip Poe’s hand tightly. It’s far too soon and you both know it.

Poe hovers anxiously as the medical droid takes your vitals, the doctor explaining what you’ve already suspected. Your blood pressure is skyrocketing, and they have to deliver the baby now or both of you will be at risk. Poe’s face is ashen as they prep you for surgery. You try to smile reassuringly at him, but you’re shaking so hard it’s not convincing.

They make Poe change into scrubs. He feels ridiculous with the bonnet covering his curls. He can tell you’re trying to force your laugh to sound sincere. He has to hold you steady as the droid administers the spinal block. You’re both glad that you at least get to stay awake during the procedure.

It’s barely a few minutes after the doctor starts before Leila is out. Poe hardly gets a glimpse of her before the doctor instructs the nurse droid to get her in the incubator and on breath support immediately. You grip his hand and tell him to go with the baby.

He presses a kiss to your forehead. “You sure?”

You nod. He knows you want him to pretend he doesn’t see your tears.

He squeezes your hand and then follows the droid out of the room.

--

The doctor in the neonatal intensive care unit explains what each tube and wire is for- feeding, breathing, monitoring her little heart, so many- but Poe is hardly listening. She’s so small.

“It’s really her lungs and her ability to feed that we’re most concerned about,” the doctor is saying. “Currently, she’s not capable of doing either on her own.”

Poe presses a hand against the cover of the incubator. She’s such a little thing. Her body is practically the size of his hand. “How long will it be before she’s okay to come home?” When the doctor doesn’t respond immediately, he glances at her. “Doc?”

She looks supremely uncomfortable. “Mr. Dameron- every child is different, and milestones don’t have specific timetables...“

It takes a moment for the implication to sink in. There are no guarantees here.

Poe has never felt so helpless.

He watches Leila. Tiny, so tiny. Her namesake was tiny too, he reminds himself. And look at all she did.

The doctor is talking again, something about those milestones she’ll need to meet and how they go about helping her reach them, but she might as well be speaking Huttese for all he’s comprehending. It’s okay. He knows you’ll want to hear all of this, too, so he’ll ask them to repeat it once you’re stitched up.

Kriff, you’re still alone in the OR. He thanks the doctor, and with a last look at his tiny warrior princess, he heads back to the surgery wing.

--

When he reaches the hallway that leads to the OR, a burly nurse is waiting in front of the entrance to the operating theater. “Ah, Mr. Dameron. We need you to wait here.”

“What’s happened?” He tries to see around the nurse but he’s still blocking the doors. “Where’s my wife?”

“Mr. Dameron-”

He has to stop himself from shoving past the man. “What is happening and where is my wife?”

The nurse hesitates, and it’s enough.

Something has gone very, very wrong.

“The doctor will be out in a moment, Mr. Dameron, please, if you’ll just-”

Poe does shove past the man then. He doesn’t make it very far, of course, since the nurse is twice his size and quickly grabs him, but he gets close enough to see through the window set into the doors. He has a perfect view of you, still on the operating table. He has a perfect view of the doctor, administering chest compressions. He has a perfect view of the defibrillator droid. He has a perfect view as your body jolts from the current running through it as they try to restart your heart. He has a perfect view of the monitor that still displays an irregular, not-at-all normal heartbeat.

Then the nurse is dragging him away, and someone is screaming, and a second person, maybe a security guard, who knows, is helping pull him down the hallway away from the doors. And he realizes he’s the one screaming, and someone is urging him into a chair, and he misses the chair and drops to his knees, his forehead touching the floor. There’s a hand on his shoulder, and a voice telling him there were complications, that it’s going to be okay, but how can anything be okay because you weren’t moving and his child is fighting for her life and what the flying FUCK could possibly be okay about any of what is happening.

He grips his hair, not feeling the pain on his scalp, not feeling the tiles under his knees, not hearing anything else the nurse says. He can’t hear anything but static. He can’t see anything but you. Unmoving. Then Leila, hooked up to tubes. Two thirds of his world, fighting for their lives in the space of an hour. He vaguely wonders if this is what going insane feels like.

Maybe this is cosmic payback for all the shit he’s done in his life. Maybe this is the galaxy reminding him that he doesn't get to fight a war, have unmeasurable blood on his hands, and get to live happily ever after. Maybe this is what happens to cocky assholes who marry out of their league and who dare to think for half a second that maybe, even after everything, that life might look kindly on them. Who the fuck is he, to think he’d get the love and the family his parents had? What’s that old adage, an eye for an eye? Fuck. FUCK.

He thinks he must have passed out, or maybe he just hopes he did. His cheek is pressed against the floor. He heaves himself back to his knees, scrubbing a hand down his face. It comes away wet.

“Mr. Dameron?”

The doctor stands in the doorway. Poe vaguely recognizes that he’s got blood on his scrubs. Your blood. He wants to throw up.

“Mr. Dameron, your wife. She’s stable.”

Poe forgets how to breathe.

The doctor is helping the nurse lift him off the floor. “She’s stable, sir,” he says again.

His knees aren’t working right, and he sits heavily on the chair someone has thoughtfully shoved behind him. “She- she’s okay?”

The doctor smiles now. “Yes, Mr. Dameron. She’s going to be okay.”

The tears, this time of relief, stream down his cheeks. He doesn’t wipe them away.

--

Several weeks later, Poe leans against the doorway of your bedroom. You’re in the bed, both of your girls sprawled out with you, Leila on your chest and Beka curled up under your arm. All three of you are asleep. He can’t stop beaming at you all.

His pop calls a soft ‘good night’ from down the hall, and Poe answers with a nod. Kes had been the lifeline Poe needed as you and Leila both recovered from her birth, already so many weeks ago it feels both like a lifetime and like yesterday. He can’t think about how close he came to losing both of you. Maybe someday. He’s sure you and he will both have some things to work through. But for right now, enjoying his family is the only thing on his agenda.

He had come to take Beka back to her own bed, but snuggles with his family sound like a better plan. His smile widens as Beka yawns one of those precious toddler yawns. Gently, he slides onto the bed next to you, carefully shifting the elder Dameron daughter off of your arm, smoothing a hand over her tousled curls. She snuggles into his chest as he presses a kiss to her cheek. “Love you, sweetheart.”

She sighs contentedly as she burrows further into him. “‘luff you, Daddy.”

You rouse, blinking languidly at him. It’s adorable and stars, he’s never taking anything as mundane as your yawns for granted again. “What time is it?”

“Late.” He props his head on one hand, gently stroking the other down Leila’s still-impossibly small cheek as he smiles at you. “How’re you feeling?”

“Fine.” You return his smile drowsily. “You look happy.”

His chuckle is soft. “Happy’s one word for it.” He moves his hand from Leila to your hair, twisting a strand around his finger. “Feelin’ like the luckiest asshole in the galaxy is another.”

“Language,” you admonish without any real venom, leaning into his caress.

On your chest, Leila whimpers. Ten weeks ago, when he first (finally) held her, Poe had struggled to believe the doctor that there would come a time when she’d breathe on her own, let alone have a set of pipes that could- and would- send BB-8 racing for cover. But she does. His little miracle, amazing, warrior princess is healthy, whole, and, based on how she’s rooting around your chest, very hungry.

As you drowsily help her latch to your breast, Poe watches, beaming as Leila starts to nurse. Witnessing you feed your children will always rank in the top five of the most intimate moments you’ve shared together.

Almost as if you feel his gaze, you glance up, smiling sleepily at him. “Credit for your thoughts.”

He shakes his head slightly, a grey-peppered curl falling errantly across his forehead. “Just still in awe.” He glances down at Beka (snoring slightly, just like her daddy), his grin widening as he looks back to you. “In awe and so, so in love.”

You reach out and brush his curls back. “Love you too, handsome.”

If almost losing you and Leila taught him anything, it’s to cherish each and every caress, kiss, smile, and toddler yawn. After all, he reasons, catching your hand and pressing a kiss to your palm, it’s the little things that make up a life. Right? The big moments are wonderful, sure. But life is lived in the details. They’re not glamorous or noteworthy. How many times has he kissed your hand just like this over the course of your relationship, and thought nothing of it?

No more living without intention. Not for him.

Beka mumbles in her sleep. He pulls her closer as you yawn again, curling into his other side as Leila continues to feed. He wraps his arm around your shoulders and leans back against the headboard with a contented sigh.  

The birth of a child is momentous. But birth simply marks the start of a life. And the life to be lived- he looks at his life, gathered here, in his arms, and smiles- that’s where it’s at.

[dreamofmysoul-tsc]

Elias Carstairs, Matthew Fairchild, and the Disease of Alcoholism

I’m very nervous about posting this but I think it’s important. 

Now before you guys scroll past this post, I’m gonna ask that whoever may read this take some time to hear from my perspective. I would like to preface this by saying that I do not know, nor am I claiming to know, what it’s like to face racism and prejudice everyday, nor do I know what it was like to be queer in a time that was less than accepting and terribly cruel to LGBTQIA+ folks. I will not be speaking about either of those things here, as it is not my place to. However, I do know what it’s like to live with an alcoholic. I do know what it’s like to have an alcoholic parent and I have seen what addiction does to a person and their family firsthand. 

Final disclaimer, I am in no way trying to attack or target anybody. All I am doing is providing my own perspective when it comes to the discourse surrounding Elias Carstairs and the differing opinions I have seen in regards to Matthew. I would also like to state that my experiences are my own, and are in no way reflective of every addicts’ experience or the experiences of their children/loved ones. Addiction affects everybody differently. 

I am also not a psychologist or a doctor; everything stated below are my personal experiences as a child of an alcoholic. 

Now let’s get started. 

CW for alcoholism, substance abuse, abuse in general, and death

Elias

When I first started Chain of Gold I didn’t anticipate how much I was going to relate to Alastair. Honestly, I didn’t have strong opinions about him either way; I didn’t hate him, but I didn’t love him either. That was until it was revealed why Elias was sick all the time, and what really happened during his mission. I have never seen alcoholism portrayed in a novel ever. I’m sure there are novels which talk about it out there, but I have never come across one. And for the first time in my life, I felt like somebody understood. There are countless characters in The Shadowhunter Chronicles who have touched my heart, but I will forever be grateful to Alastair and Cassandra Clare for making me feel like I didn’t have to hide anymore, that I was allowed to talk about my father’s alcoholism. Because for 18 years, it had been my secret. For my mother, it had been even longer. 

My father has been an alcoholic for my entire life. I’m sure this is common sense for most people, but an alcoholic cannot be a 100% good and supportive parent. Those two things do not mix. Most alcoholics are alcoholics because of shame, pain, or other mental health problems that they have not sought therapy for. I would also like to say that alcoholism is a disease. It physically alters the brain to make the addict believe that they need to drink just as much as they need to eat or sleep. When you are constantly drunk, it can increase stress or anxiety in everyday life and leaves the addict at risk of developing depression if it was not already there. Many alcoholics suffer with depression, general low self esteem, or various other mental health problems before abusing alcohol; these problems are then exacerbated with daily alcohol consumption. 

My father never abused us, mentally, physically, etc, and he never has. He carries a lot of mental pain and shame with him, which he has continually refused to seek help for. He drinks because he does not like himself; he feels that he isn’t deserving of help. He feels like he messes everything up. And as a child, I used to make excuses for him. “Well, he never hurts us, so what’s the problem?” “It doesn’t affect his work, so what’s the problem?” I was naive then. No matter how “functioning” they may seem, an alcoholic cannot live a completely healthy, happy, and fulfilling life if they drink everyday, even if it seemingly doesn’t affect their work lives. Alcoholics are very good at hiding their addiction. I cried when Cordelia described finding bottles in odd places, or when Alastair described how he tried everything in his power to hide it from his sister and their community. I used to find beer cans stashed under the kitchen sink. Sometimes I’d find them in the spice cabinet. I don’t like inviting friends to my house because I can never be sure if my dad will be 100% sober. I didn’t want people to see him that way. I don’t want to see him that way. 

I have seen a decent amount of posts on various platforms of people wishing Elias dead or wanting him to be completely x-ed out of Alastair and Cordelia’s lives. And while I totally understand the protectiveness many people feel toward Alastair and Cordelia whenever their father is involved (I love them to pieces, too), as somebody who is a child of an alcoholic, I do not and would never wish my father dead. The thought of it makes me sick. Thus far, we know very little about Elias and his personality. We don’t know if he has ever physically harmed Alastair or Sona. This is not to invalidate mental or emotional abuse either, which are just as terrible. And while he does seem to be biased towards Cordelia, which in and of itself isn’t fair, there has been little evidence to show that Elias is violent or abusive. Of course Chain of Iron could prove me wrong, but as of now, I don’t want to immediately assume that Elias is abusive. Alcoholism does not equal abuse, although alcohol can be an expedient to violence. I do not want to invalidate the Carstairs’ experience if that is the case, but I do not want to jump to conclusions either. Of course you can call me lucky because my father has never harmed us in any way. But personally, I find that insulting. When a parent is an addict, regardless of whether or not they harm their children or how involved they are in their child’s life, they will end up leaving their child with mental scars whether it was intentional or not. My father’s addiction and the addictions of countless others cannot be measured on a scale. Addiction hurts everybody it touches, no matter how normal the addict may seem to the rest of the world. 

I know this Elias section is already so long, but I have a bit more to say before I move on to Matthew. Alcoholics make choices, many of them poor choices. They decide whether or not to seek help. They decide to drink another beer. They decide to drive drunk, even if their child is in the car with them. It is a disease which completely takes over every single part of their life. And while it negatively affects their lives and the lives of their loved ones, that does not mean that they are undeserving of help. Any addict, whether they’re addicted to alcohol or heroin or cigarettes, anything at all, needs help. And they most definitely should not be mocked or attacked for their addiction or their attempts to get help for it. Regardless of whether or not they are in recovery or in the thick of their addiction, there is absolutely no reason to mock them. There is no reason to tell them to “just quit drinking.” There is no reason to call them a “junkie” or a “drunk,” no matter what stage of their addiction or recovery process they are in. 

I am in no way excusing Elias’ behavior just as I in no way excuse my father’s behavior. He [Elias] needs to be punished for showing up to a mission drunk and consequently being unable to keep those four Shadowhunters from dying. He needs to apologize to his children. He needs to apologize to his wife. And he needs to recover. Addiction is an ugly, ugly thing. It never just affects the addict. It leaves their loved ones with scars, whether they’re mental of physical. Personally, I can’t stand the sound of metal beer or soda cans being cracked open anymore. I’m terrified of getting married. I can never feel 100% comfortable or safe around drunk people. I refuse to drink. I don’t like thinking about how the only time my dad has been 100% sober was when we visited my grandparents for a week and he had no opportunity to slip away to buy alcohol. I don’t like thinking about how my mother has had to deal with this for decades. I want my mother to be happier. But I also want my dad to recover. Living with an alcoholic isn’t black and white; I don’t hate my dad. I hate his addiction. I love him. He’s my dad. I don’t like seeing him that way. I know Alastair doesn’t like seeing his father that way either. But no matter how much you scream or cry or fight with somebody, people will not change unless they themselves want to. 

Matthew

This section will be much more brief because many of my thoughts surrounding Matthew are similar to my thoughts surrounding Elias. I would like to touch on two things, however.

I have seen people talking about Matthew, or more specifically Matthew’s friends, saying that they don’t understand why they [The Merry Thieves and Co] seem to be ignoring Matthew’s alcoholism or aren’t doing anything about it even if they do realize he has problems with alcohol. Part of it is because of historical context; alcoholism wasn’t considered a disease until very recently, and the beliefs that alcoholics can either a) stop drinking whenever they want or b) are abusive, useless members of society still persist to this day. But the other, bigger part of it is relatively simple: people won’t change unless they believe they can change. Addicts need to want to change in order to begin the recovery process. You can’t force them to. If their heart isn’t in it, they’ll attend therapy or AA meetings a couple times to appease you, and then they will start drinking/using again. Or they’ll lie to you even more, telling you that they did attend a meeting or a therapy session when in reality they bought another pack of beer. Matthew will not seek help unless he believes wholeheartedly that he can change. He needs to believe that he is worthy of change and he needs to truly want to get better in order to begin to make significant improvements in his life. Of course relapses will happen, but the point is that he wants to improve his life. He wants to recover. No matter how much James or Thomas or Cordelia or Lucie tell him to change, no matter how much they want him to get better, he simply will not unless he wants to. It hurts. It really does. I’m not going to sugarcoat it. You can love somebody so, so much, but your love is not going to make them better. Your love will not magically make their addiction go away. To reiterate what I said about Elias earlier, you can scream and cry and fight and give them all of the love until you’re blue in the face, but if they don’t want help, they will not seek it out. Matthew needs help, but more importantly, he needs to come to the realization that he is deserving of that help. He is deserving of a successful recovery. Every addict is.

Lastly, there is something about Matthew and Cordelia’s relationship that has never sat right with me. Children of alcoholics are statistically more likely to get into a relationship or marry an alcoholic because it’s what feels “normal” to us. And while I have always wanted Matthew and Cordelia to become friends, part of this is the reason why I don’t want them to have a romantic relationship. I don’t want Cordelia to have to continue that cycle, never able to escape the effects of addiction. I want Matthew to focus on himself. I want him to recover. I want his friends to support him. I want both Matthew and Elias to have a successful recovery, because the amount of addicts who die from their disease every year is staggering and upsetting. Of course Matthew is deserving of love, but he needs to focus on recovering, both from his addiction and his trauma, before he puts all of his energy into a romantic relationship.

----------

Overall, I want Alastair to have time to be himself, to not have to carry the weight of his father’s addiction on his shoulders. I want Elias to recover and to apologize for how he has hurt his family, whether it was intentional or not. I want Matthew to forgive himself and to realize that he deserves to take up space in this world just as we all do. And I ask that you, whoever may be reading this, to try to feel a little more compassion for these characters and addicts you may know or meet in your life. Or to put yourself in their shoes and the shoes of their loved ones. We should not be mocking them, or hurting them, and we certainly should not be wishing death upon them. There are far, far too many addicts who have died because of their disease and their mental pain. When dealing with addicts or the loved ones of addicts, I ask that you try to support them and encourage them to seek help, whether it’s therapy or AA or any number of support groups. The effects of alcoholism and drug addiction will stick with the addict in recovery and their loved ones for the rest of their lives. Some days will be harder than others. But the important part is that, when those hard days come, they have a support system of therapists, family, friends, even people online to remind them why they are in recovery and to encourage them and their progress, no matter how small. An addict in recovery, no matter how slow or fast their progress may seem, is better than an addict who has died because they never sought out the help they desperately needed.

If you read through this entire thing, thank you! I really appreciate you taking the time to read through my personal experience. This topic is very important to me, and while I’m relatively new to tumblr, I still felt the need and the obligation to share my perspective. I’m not trying to sway your opinion of Matthew or Elias, just to maybe make some people think about this complex issue. If you aren’t a fan of either of them, that’s totally fine. If anything, what I would like you to take away from this is to be more aware of alcoholism and its effects. If something doesn’t seem right, speak up. I will be providing resources below if you or a loved one needs addiction counseling or help, or if you simply would like to learn more about this. If you have anything to add to this, would like to share your opinion, or have a question for me, feel free to reblog or message me in my ask box. Please be respectful, y’all! This is a sensitive topic and it affects everybody differently; I want this to be a civil discussion, not a witch hunt.

Thank you very much for reading and considering my point of view. 

Resources:

What is Alcohol Use Disorder?

SAMHSA (a helpline)

Alcohol Rehab Guide (this website also includes educational resources and a helpline)

Substance Abuse Helplines and Treatment Programs

How Parental Alcoholism Affects Children

[seemslegitflapjacks]

How I’d describe my friend and I’s demigod ocs

(Bolded ones are her ocs)

Laufey

Looks feral and anemic and I’m living for it

Hot topic overlord™️

Is tall for a human but is literally the runt of his siblings

Will rule the word

Daddy’s boy but refuses to admit it

Committed first degree murder multiple times

Survives off cheezits and wine

Got adopted by a pegasus

Drew

Gets slandered 24/7 lmao

Convinced him and Timber were in a relationship

Went from being a dick to being one of the characters that needs the least amount of therapy and is a good man

Almost got jumped twice

Dresses like a fuckboy

Everyone says he has fleas bc of his perm LMFAO

The awkward one without a godly parent

Puberty hit him like a frigging BUS

Gets called the camp hoe

Jake

Stupid

(Healthily) Obsessed with his s/o and will gladly follow them to the underworld if it meant he could hold their hand

Pyromaniac

Named his Phoenix Fifi

How he got her was basically like the scene from iCarly when spencer has the ostrich and a smoothie

Also when from being a bastard to being a better dude

Dylan

Wore a wedding dress once

Is actually the camp hoe

Looks like Legolas with a tan

Got his ass kicked by Laufey

Dated Sylvia for like a week before they just broke up

Danny

A shark thought he was a nice snack

Surfer boy

Golden retriever

Will scream if you show him his school yearbook picture

Long story short he died in the 80’s and was accidentally brought back to life

Has no clue how to use a phone

Loves Timber with all his heart

Kicked Drew’s ass for him

Wears Hawaiian shirts 24/7 no matter the season

Cole

Hated his bestie at one point

Even beat the poor man up

Now they’re inseparable

Literally lost to him in a contest even though his bestie was fucking blind with no glasses aimlessly shooting

Hates everyone else but adores his best friend

Ahsoka

Bitch

Sylvia

Used to lowkey bully Laufey

Mommy issues

Rich girl princess

Girlboss

Died twice

Horse girl™️

Slapped her dad, btw he’s Thor

Loves Laufey so much it’s literally so sweet

Surfer girl

Her hair gets puffy from static electricity when she gets mad and it’s so fucking funny

Canonically a Swiftie

Timber

Gore turned into a tree

Got peed on by so many random animals

Talks to dogs n wolves

Casually befriended and tamed Fenrir

Also died

Danny saved his life as well

Him and Danny are a power couple

“I see dead people-“

Vibes with ghosts

Gets mistaken for a girl

People can’t tell if he’s a guy or a girl and when someone asks he’s just- 👁👄👁

Also fucking slapped a goddess

Stabbed the bitch too

He’s from Alaska

Riley

If anxiety was a human being

Severe amnesia

Beat up a bunch of kids for Drew

Him and Drew also be a power couple

Actually won’t shut up if you get to know him

He’s so sweet and cute

Dresses like Kurt Cobain

Will kick your ass if you dare slander Drew in front of him 🔪🔪

Loves lemons. Like hell just eat them straight up like oranges

Has a golden horse that will literally attempt to maim almost anyone but him

Mike

Cole’s bestie

Dead mom

Can perform at Coachella but is scared shitless of mice

Wandered around for like almost and entire rp without his glasses

He cannot see ANYTHING without his glasses

He’s literally just a big teddy bear

Free hugs

Cried when he won the competition

Literally the emotional support friend for the group

Almost drowned in an icy lake

He hates the cold now

He and Cole have matching friendship bracelets

Hufflepuff if I’ve ever seen one

Has a huge red birthmark on the almost half his face

Poor baby thinks it makes him ugly 😢

He’s like the handsomest boy on earth

Literally one of the biggest guys he stands at 6’2

Scaredy cat

Raised in the spotlight since him mama was a rockstar

Revived his moms band at Coachella

Ceris

Uses they/them

Loves Jake so much

They’re a sappy lovey dovey couple

Has the powers of Hermaphroditus

Albino

Only mentioned briefly but they’re literally amazing and they’re going to play a huge role soon

Hella strong but they’re built like a noodle so watch out

✨pretty✨

Garth

Also mommy issues

And brother issues since Laufey HATES him

Got manipulated and controlled into doing some awful stuff

He was originally planned to be killed but I wanted to keep him so here he is alive

For now

Tall asf

Emo Legolas with black hair

Simping for Dylan

Has a big old Hippogriff named Reitje

Loves his bird lion horse thing

[janeofcakes]

Soulmates: How John Met Sherlock...Again  Chapter 8

Hello, my friends! In keeping my word, I am posting tonight to try and stay on schedule after the two-week wait for the last chapter. You may also be pleased to know that this one is more like the usual length.

---

Sherlock has just picked up the dish of shepherd’s pie from off the oven shelf when his mobile sounds. He glances to his right pocket with a sharp look and a grumble. He can hear Olive in the loo just turning on the taps to wash up for dinner. Without ceremony, Sherlock lifts the dish quickly and all but throws it on the hot plates situated in the middle of the table. He has learned over time that shepherd’s pie should live on the table while they eat it rather than on the counter. Olive always wants seconds and sometimes thirds, so it is best to have it handy.

With the dish on the table, Sherlock turns back to the counter and tosses the oven mitts onto it while fishing for his mobile. It is a number he does not recognize so not Greg or Mycroft, thank god. That’s all he needs, another conversation with his brother. The birthday party only a few short days ago seems to have opened the floodgate and the meddling sod has phoned Sherlock every day since. An utterly pointless venture, except to annoy Sherlock as Mycroft repeats himself each time. He despises the exercise as much as Sherlock does, which is not completely lost on the detective. His brother obviously considers his words of the utmost importance. Of course, he always does, but this is different. His tone is all wrong and Sherlock cannot help wondering what Mycroft is so afraid of because it can be called nothing else. Pure, skillfully hidden fear. Anger stirs hot in Sherlock’s chest again. Does Mycroft honestly think he would do anything to endanger Olive or the life he has with her? Sherlock is happier than he has ever been and how on earth could having John Watson back in his life jeopardize that?

The mobile sounds once more, coupled with Olive’s voice shouting from the loo to see if he knows it is ringing.

“Yes. Thank you,” Sherlock calls and hastily hits accept before putting the device to his ear. The case had better not be tedious. “Sherlock Holmes.”

He hears a man clear his throat somewhat nervously on the other end and rolls his eyes. Missing spouse who is really having an affair, best friend won’t talk to him and he is worried the man has been kidnapped or… Sherlock’s grey-blue eyes pop open wide. He knows this man. It is there in the timbre of his voice. There is no mistaking it.

“Sherlock,” the voice is hesitant. “Hi.”

“John,” the detective breathes, dropping his left hand to the countertop for support. At that moment, Olive rushes into the room before he can say another word. She wooshes past him and plops down in her chair.

“Shepherd’s pie! I knew it,” she leans over the dish and takes a deep breath. “Oh, it smells so good!”

“Go ahead and start,” Sherlock tells her, covering the phone with his hand. “I’ll be done in a minute.”

“Ok,” Olive reaches for the serving spoon with a huge grin on her face. Sherlock’s lip curls up into a half smile as he pushes through the door into the sitting room and closes it behind. 

“Are you having dinner?” John is saying. “I’m sorry. I should’ve picked a better time to call.”

“It’s fine,” Sherlock assures him, staring across the room to the skull on the mantle and the photograph of himself with John that sits next to it. “We were just getting started. It’s no trouble.”

“You’re sure?” John sounds uncertain, but relieved at the same time. “I could phone later.”

“John, it’s fine,” Sherlock repeats with an edge of tension in his voice he hopes John does not notice. He will only misinterpret it as irritation when that couldn’t be further from the truth. Sherlock is actually more concerned that John will talk himself out of the phone call and then never call again.

Guard your heart.

Mycroft’s words slam their way into Sherlock’s mind with all the power of a lorry. Clenching his teeth, he pushes them away in favor of listening to his friend.

“All right,” John replies, unaware of the detective’s inner struggle. “I ran into Greg and he gave me your new number. I hope you don’t mind.” 

“Not at all,” Sherlock says easily. “I had to change it about a year ago.”

“Yeah, he mentioned that,” John sucks air in through his teeth with a cringe. “Nasty business.”

“It can be, yes,” Sherlock confirms, feeling a bit less edgy. “I should have given you the number myself since the girls are friends.”

“Right,” John agrees and Sherlock can tell he is wetting his lips, readying himself to say something momentous. Sherlock swallows, every synapsis in his brain firing as one thought fills his mind.

Please don’t say Olive and Gracie can be friends, but we should never see each other. I’ve just got you back. Don’t leave me again.

Sherlock slaps the thought down hurriedly, shoves it into an open door in his mind palace and locks it. What he feels right now is exactly what his ass of a brother was referring to when he cautioned him not to open his heart to John again. Sherlock lets out a mirthless huff. As if he ever closed his heart in the first place.

“I wanted to talk to you about that,” John begins. Sherlock can hear him shifting uncomfortably. “If you’re both free on Saturday and the offer to host a playdate still stands, I’d be happy to bring Gracie by. Or we can have it here if you want.”

Sherlock’s mouth drops open and he stares numbly at the mantle, not actually seeing any of the items resting upon it. That was certainly not what he expected John to say, but he’ll take it. Reach out and grab it with both hands, in fact.

“Sherlock?” John asks curiously and Sherlock snaps to attention, wondering how much time passed while he was in his stupor. 

“Yes,” he says too quickly, too excitedly and eases back when he continues. “Yes, of course. We would love to have you over. Olive has an endless list of things she wants to show Gracie.”

“I think I’ve heard it,” John lets out a warm laugh.”More than once.”

“Would just after lunch work?” Sherlock asks, a smile slowly taking over his face. This is truly too good to be. “One o’clock?”

“Yeah, that’s perfect,” John answers pleasantly. “We’ll be there.”

“I look forward to it,” Sherlock tells him, “and I know Olive will be overjoyed.”

“Oh, yeah,” John chuckles. “If you hear a far away explosion in the next few minutes, don’t worry. It’ll just be Gracie finding out.”

Sherlock laughs heartily and so easily it nearly surprises him. It feels good to laugh with John again. Astonishingly good.

“We’ll see you in a couple of days then,” John says in what can only be described as fond. “Good night, Sherlock.”

“Good night, John,” Sherlock ends the call and stays where he is, just breathing in and out. His heart is full and its warmth is running through his entire body. He is glowing with the feel of it.

Guard your heart. 

It is already too late and Sherlock cannot be bothered to care. Not in the slightest. With a skip in his step, he turns for the kitchen and strides in to tell Olive the new plans for Saturday.

***

John and Gracie had set off as soon as they finished washing up after lunch. The walk from their flat to Baker Street isn’t far at all, but the clouds and rain saw them away in a taxi. The ride was pleasant enough, Gracie telling John for the umpteenth time what she and Olive had planned. The girl didn’t stop once to take a breath and John couldn’t stop smiling. Unfortunately, things all changed as soon as he paid the cabbie and turned to face the old building that was once his home.

John stands agog as the cab pulls away. Everything is exactly the same. Speedy’s is as busy as ever, every window has the same curtains so far as John can tell, and the door is still dark and imposing over the short step up to it. An image of a younger Sherlock Holmes standing on it flashes before John’s eyes and he sees himself limp over to the detective to shake hands. John blinks and the memory is gone as quickly as it came.

Feeling a light tug on his hand, John looks down to Gracie as she fidgets and angles her head toward the door. John nods, squares his shoulders and marches up to the door. The name plates are just as he had left them. M. Hudson. S. Holmes. John stares at the names, frozen in time. A thousand memories come unbidden, but not the cases as one would expect. Moments in the flat when they were alone. Sherlock working on countless experiments, John finding body parts in the fridge, blogging, reading, eating breakfast together, that time Sherlock covered John’s hand with his own and John was sure he saw something in the detective’s eyes before he turned away. John sees every detail in his mind’s eye as each one drifts around him, stories from a past life coming back into focus.

“Dad,” Gracie’s voice whispers through the haze and John blinks himself back to the present, his face wet with raindrops. He turns his head away from the door to see his daughter watching him with a curious expression. “Aren’t you going to knock?”

“Erm, of course. Yes, I was just…” John trails off, thinking of all the times he had let himself in and trotted up the stairs after a shift at the surgery to find Sherlock playing his violin or bent over an experiment or good god, tolerating Mycroft and his patronizing smirks. John cocks his head in thought, a warm feeling spreading throughout his body. Sherlock really had refused his brother’s information for all these years. He could have known everything from day one, but chose to give John his privacy. No, that wasn’t the only reason. It was too painful. That’s what Sherlock had said in the park. John’s heart squeezes in his chest at the thought of causing his best friend’s pain.

“Dad,” Gracie repeats, her tone impatient and bordering on irritable. “Dad, it’s raining and I’m starting to get really wet.”

“Right. Yes,” John remarks, knocking on the door swiftly and efficiently.

They only wait a moment before the door swings open to reveal Martha Hudson in a light blue dress. Her hair has gone nearly entirely grey and a few more lines have found their way onto her face, but John would know her anywhere. Mrs. Hudson’s every feature brightens as soon as she lays eyes on John, a smile of genuine delight on her lips.

“Hello, John,” she greets warmly and presses a kiss to his cheek.

“Hello, Mrs. Hudson,” John replies thickly, realizing only at that moment how much he had missed her.

“It’s wonderful to see you,” Mrs. Hudson tells him and then looks down at his daughter. “And this must be Gracie. Olive’s told me so much about you.”

“She has?” Gracie asks, her excitement oozing from every pore.

“Oh, yes, definitely,” Mrs. Hudson declares, stepping aside. “Come in, come in. She’s been waiting for you all morning. Why don’t you go right on up?”

Gracie’s awed eyes follow the woman’s gesture all the way up the seventeen steps and they all three hear a clatter from the top. There is a muffled voice shouting ‘They’re here! They’re here!’ and Olive’s thumping footsteps scamper across the floor above. She throws open the door to 221B and jumps out onto the landing. Both girls squeal and start on the stairs, meeting halfway in a rib-crushing hug.

“Oh my gosh, I can’t believe you’re finally here,” Olive gasps. “I’ve been waiting forever!”

“I know. I know!” Gracie’s voice is on the verge of a shout barely reigned in. The two girls separate and just look at each other, their bodies trembling with pure joy. Olive grabs Gracie’s hand and jumps up a step.

“Come on! You have to see our new experiment,” she darts up the stairs and Gracie follows right on her heels.

John and Mrs. Hudson watch them run and disappear into the flat above. John looks back at the older woman with an apologetic smile.

“I’d better get up after her,” he says with a quiet laugh. He turns and puts one foot on the first stair when a strong grip around his forearm stops him. He glances at her hand and then meets the kind, brown eyes of his former landlady. Mrs. Hudson’s expression is soft and wise as she silently studies the doctor. Enough time passes that John begins to wonder exactly what she sees, as well as what she’s looking for. After another long moment passes, the corners of her mouth turn up into a sweet smile and she gives his arm a squeeze.

“I’m glad you’re here, John,” she says tenderly. She glances up the stairs and nods. “He hasn’t stopped talking about this since you phoned. Cleaned the whole flat himself.”

“Himself?” John muses with raised browns. “Now that is something.”

They share a chuckle. Mrs. Hudson squeezes his arm again.

“He has changed so much, John,” she tells him in a motherly tone.

“So I’ve heard,” John replies with a touch of dismissiveness that she picks up on immediately.

“I’ll not have that tone, young man,” Mrs. Hudson chides sternly. “Not about my boy.”

“I’m hardly a young man,” John tries to reclaim the jovial mood, but gets nowhere.

“You went through so much before you left,” the older woman interrupts as if John said nothing. “No one could blame you, but he’s not the same man who did those things, who left you behind.”

“All right. Fine,” John mutters tersely, shifting his weight impatiently and glancing up the stairs before looking at her again. “What would you have me do? Just forget it all and pretend it never happened?”

“No,” Mrs. Hudson answers, her brow furrowed. “Just give him a chance. That’s all. You think you know him, but you don’t.”

John huffs a mirthless laugh and tilts his head back a fraction to look up at the ceiling, trying to hold his temper.

“You’ve seen him with Olive,” Mrs. Hudson continues on and John lowers his gaze to meet hers, already understanding. “Is that the man you knew?”

“No,” John concedes after a long pause. Sherlock hadn’t minded children and seemed to enjoy talking to them, but by his own admission it was only because they hadn’t learned enough to be as stupid as adults. What Sherlock has with Olive is genuine love and adoration, pure and simple. Even just that tells John his friend is very different these days. 

John presses his lips together in a physical manifestation of tamping down his curiosity and all the questions rolling through his mind in a loop. Who is Jessie? Where did they meet? Are they married? John’s eyes widen, nerves on the rise and his heart in his throat. He fights not to look up the stairs as every muscle grows tense. He will surely meet Jessie today as soon as he enters his former flat. Suddenly those seventeen steps look like hundreds.

“Are you going to stay at all?” Mrs. Hudson’s gentle voice breaks the spell of his slight panic, bringing him back to where he stands at the bottom of the stairs.

“What? No,” John answers quickly, feeling flustered and trying not to show it. Judging by Mrs. Hudson’s empathetic smile, he has failed miserably. “I mean, I hadn’t planned on it. I have some errands.”

John had, in fact, thought he might stay for a bit and suggest tea if Sherlock did not. It seemed like the best way to assess the possibility of renewing their friendship. Now the idea of Jessie being there has John striking it from the schedule. He and Sherlock have so much history and not all of it is good. Surely Sherlock must have told Jessie enough that she will want to keep him as far from the detective as possible. Lestrade had said Sherlock was a shell of his former self until Jessie came into his life. Why would she let John hurt him again when she could protect him?

“Of course, dear. I understand,” Mrs. Hudson finally releases John’s arm, “but maybe just for tea? He’s honestly just as excited as Olive, though he’d never admit it.”

“Yeah,” John’s voice is light and he exhales a breath he had not realized he was holding. He can’t believe the words are passing through his lips even as he says, “Sure. It’ll be good to talk for a bit. I...have missed him.”

John surprises himself with the admission. He might have known Mrs. Hudson would get the truth out of him one way or another. The clever woman smiles, pats his arm and heads for her own flat.

“Stop by when you and Gracie are on your way out,” she disappears into the doorway and then peeks around the frame with only one hand and her head in John’s line of vision. “I have biscuits for you.”

John laughs quietly at her teasing voice and saucy grin.

“I could never refuse you anything, Mrs. Hudson. You know that,” he remarks with an answering grin.

“Oh, I know, dear,” comes Mrs. Hudson’s sly tone as she disappears again.

Left alone, John turns his attention to the stairs, his eyes following them all the way up to the landing. He exhales deeply, steeling himself for what lies beyond.

“Come on then, Watson,” he mumbles to himself, taking the first stair. “Once more into the breach.”

When John reaches the landing and walks through the open door to 221B, his normal pace slows abruptly.The flat is bright and cheerful in a way it certainly never was when he lived here. The skull is still on the mantle and Sherlock’s desk in the corner of the sitting room. There is a different telly, but it’s in the same place. All of the furniture and area rugs are new, except for Sherlock’s favorite leather chair and…

John stops. Everything stops. He doesn’t even hear Gracie and Olive’s giggles. Something in John’s chest that he had locked up tightly breaks open, spreading warmth and a comforting sort of tingle through his body. His lips part and he mutters quietly to himself in wonder.

“Oh, John,” Sherlock’s voice startles him out of his reverie and he turns to see the detective entering from the kitchen with the girls fast on his heels. “I was beginning to think you weren’t coming up.”

The detective’s appearance and gait betray nothing, but his eyes sparkle like the night sky. It is dazzling. John closes his mouth and blinks. Wetting his lips, he shoots for casual.

“No, sorry. I was having a word with Mrs. Hudson,” John says, knowing he isn’t quite pulling it off.

“Or she had a word with you,” Sherlock counters with a playful smirk and something in John’s chest pops. Ten years is a long time to wait for that face. John didn’t even know he had been waiting and hoping until the exact moment he saw it. His mind is awash with memories once again, of stolen glances and brushing fingers never spoken of, but always noticed. 

“Dad! Dad, I just got the full tour!” Gracie hoots at her stunned father. “This place is great and there’s even a cool experiment in the kitchen.”

“I still need to show you my room,” Olive declares, her whole face the very pinnacle of happiness.

“Yes, yes, yes,” Gracie chants, jumping up and down. “I want to see it all!”

“Gracie,” John scolds, even as they run for the stairs to the second level, “be courteous, please.”

“Ok, Dad,” his daughter calls back in the voice she uses when she isn’t paying attention. John sighs and turns to see Sherlock’s amused smile.

“She’s fine,” the detective waves a hand dismissively and then sobers as a thought occurs. “I assure you that the flat is quite safe. The experiment we’re conducting contains no harmful materials.”

“I know,” John replies with a shrug. “You’d never allow anything that might be dangerous.”

Sherlock’s lips curve up, but he makes no other acknowledgement. John finds himself at a loss for words. He has so many questions that he should let Sherlock answer himself, but he can’t just start blurting them out with the girls up in his old room where they could burst in at any moment. Sherlock looks as though he is about to speak, but John beats him to it, suddenly compelled to break the silence.

“She’s beautiful, Sherlock, really. She looks just like you,” John almost whispers, not caring at all that he essentially just said the same about Sherlock.

“Thank you,” Sherlock murmurs, somewhat taken aback. He regroups swiftly and gestures toward the kitchen. John’s eyes follow, his mind convinced Jessie will be standing in the doorway awaiting an introduction, but he sees no one. “Do you have a moment to spare for tea?”

“Uh, I have some errands, but yeah,” John says as disappointment flashes through his mind only to be chased away just as quickly as it came. Sherlock offered him tea. John didn’t even have to hint around it as he had planned in the cab. Mrs. Hudson was right. The detective is willing to open the door again. “I’d like that.”

“Good. That’s good,” Sherlock perks up. “Have a seat and I’ll bring it out.”

“No need to be so formal,” John replies, walking in the direction of the detective and the kitchen door behind him. “Let’s just do it in the kitchen. I don’t mind.”

Sherlock’s lip curls and he steps aside, stretching his arm toward the door.

“Be my guest,” he says knowingly and follows as John walks by.

Ten minutes later and the two men are sitting at the small kitchen table, mugs of steaming tea in hand. John opted for mugs and Sherlock had even remembered that John takes it with a splash of milk. John lets a quick breath out through his nose in place of a short laugh as he considers the man in front of him. Of course he remembers. He could probably tell from the way John tied his shoes or something.

“You’ve redone the kitchen,” John begins once they are settled. His smile grows when muffled giggles drift down from the floor above. John’s eyes look fondly upward and then back to Sherlock, who nods as he takes the mug from his lips and swallows.

“Four years ago, yes,” Sherlock fills in the blanks. “Minor explosion. Olive was not home.”

He says the last four words sternly, his face deadly serious and expecting a lecture, but John just rests his chin in his own hand and watches Sherlock with a contented gaze.

“I like it,” the doctor says simply.

“Thank you,” Sherlock clears his throat, thrown off by the unexpected response and John smiles behind his hand. “I’ll be sure to tell Olive. She was instrumental in its design.”

“You two work well together,” John says, racking his brain for some way to include Jessie without sounding like he’s being nosy.

“So do you and Gracie,” Sherlock offers sincerely and suddenly John wants to change the subject. He can tell Sherlock is going to apologize again for not knowing about Rosie and John really doesn’t want to have that conversation. He shifts in his seat and raises his own mug to his lips.

“So Greg and Mycroft?” John inquires before taking a drink. “I wouldn’t have predicted that one.”

“The last ten years have brought a good many surprises,” Sherlock responds with a chuckle. “Even my brother hadn’t anticipated that.”

“How did they even meet?” John asks, his curiosity getting the better of him.”Mycroft usually avoided everyone, especially police.”

“Olive’s first birthday party,” Sherlock says rather smugly. “I knew neither would refuse.”

“Sherlock Holmes,” John declares with an incredulous grin that makes the detective smile inquisitively, “you set them up. You’re a matchmaker.”

Without hesitation, they both burst out laughing and don’t stop for a good minute. It feels so good to laugh with his best friend again. His best friend. John hasn’t thought of Sherlock that way for years and yet, somehow he never stopped. It’s true to this day. Even with the other friends he has made, no matter how close, Sherlock has always been the best and closest one. Now that John and Gracie are back in London, maybe Sherlock could be again.

“Not so much,” Sherlock comments, his laughter devolving into giggles. John is so taken aback by the way Sherlock seems to be responding to his thoughts that the smile he wears freezes on his face and his eyes begin to widen in panic as John tries to remember what they were talking about. 

“I mostly wanted them to meet because I was tired of Greg asking me about my ‘invisible brother’,” Sherlock sets John’s mind at ease as he continues speaking, “and don’t get me started on Mycroft’s thinly veiled insinuations.”

“So you just wanted them to stop bothering you,” John sums up, “and they ended up together instead?”

“They took their time about it too,” Sherlock tells him with disgust. “Three years I had to endure incessant conversation. ‘Should I ask him out, Sherlock? Is he even interested in that? What does he think of me? We had a really good time at dinner.’ And that was just Greg.”

“Mycroft,” John begins slowly, his voice flat. “Asked you. About Greg?”

“Oh god, it was detestable,” Sherlock all but moans and John has a hard time hiding a smile. The detective catches sight of it anyway and grumbles a low sound from deep in his chest. “I don’t do feelings.”

“Don’t you?” John counters instantly, not believing the man’s snarl for a minute. Sherlock meets John’s steady gaze and his expression softens as unspoken understanding passes between them. Sherlock presses his lips together and suddenly looks younger, a touch vulnerable. John sees the man who looked at him the same way all those years ago on their first case when John said he didn’t have to use his imagination to know what he would say when about to die.

“I have limits,” Sherlock snarks, pulling John from the past. The detective schools his face to match the topic again and reaches for a biscuit. “My brother’s emotional awakening extends far beyond them, I assure you.”

“I believe it,” John smirks as he takes a drink.

“I fail to see the humor in this, John,” Sherlock glowers, but there is no heat in it and his lips turn up the longer he looks at John. Unable to stop himself from imagining Sherlock rolling his eyes and covering his ears as Mycroft waxes poetic about Greg, John descends into giggles. Sherlock gives him a withering look, but the corners of his mouth begin turning up of their own accord again and his own giggles soon join John’s. A minute later both men are laughing outright. John wipes at his eyes as the snorts begin to fade.

“I didn’t even realize Greg was gay,” he says absently.

Sherlock’s chuckles stop abruptly and John looks at him apprehensively, knowing his mistake immediately and kicking himself.

“He isn’t,” the detective tells him sharply. “He’s bisexual.”

“Right,” John swallows thickly, cursing himself for being such an idiot.

A moment of awkward silence passes while Sherlock sips from his mug and John looks down at his own, contemplating what to say. Coming up with nothing, he reaches for the biscuits with a silent inquiry on his face and Sherlock waves a hand in answer. John plucks one up and pops it in his mouth.

“Mm,” John hums with enthusiasm. “Mrs. Hudson is still an expert.”

“Actually, Olive and I made them,” Sherlock corrects and then says without thinking: “It’s Jessie’s recipe.”

He stops abruptly, mouth still open and fixes a penetrating but uneasy gaze on John. The doctor stares back. This is exactly the topic he is most curious about and the focus of nearly all his questions, but he suddenly doesn’t want to talk about it. He looks into those grey-blue eyes, deep and full of emotion, and he can’t. He can’t ask, can’t know. Not right now.

“John…” Sherlock starts in. John knows what he is going to say and he can’t bear it.

“Oh, god,” John interrupts, looking at his watch. “It’s been an hour. I really have to do those errands.”

He all but leaps out of his seat and bolts for the kitchen door, pausing only a moment to look back at his speechless friend. Sherlock has risen as well, but stands in place.

“Do you need any help?” John gestures to the table. “I can wash up.”

“No, it’s fine,” Sherlock’s voice is uncertain as though he has done something wrong and John’s chest squeezes painfully.

“All right. Ok,” John’s own voice is full of tension. He doesn’t even sound like himself. He fists his hands at his sides for lack of anything else to do with them. “I’ll be back at...four? Four thirty?”

“Four thirty is fine,” Sherlock replies, sounding more resigned now. “I’ll make sure they have a healthy snack in a bit.”

Feeling like a complete idiot, John mutters his thanks and rushes from the flat without another word.

***

When John returns, it is nearly five o’clock. Tesco had been a madhouse and at least one person in every aisle was intolerable. He had texted Sherlock around four fifteen to say he would be a little late and received a response of ‘no problem’ almost immediately. Marching up the stairs to the flat, he still feels a bit guilty. Mrs. Hudson let him in the building and then rushed back to her flat to check on a cake in the oven. Small mercies, not making the walk of shame back up to 221B under her watchful eyes.

John turns to the door to Sherlock’s flat when he reaches the landing and knocks with the hand carrying only one light-weight bag. He will give it to Gracie for the trip home so he has only the two heavier ones to contend with. He hears footsteps nearing the door soon enough and Sherlock looks at him a bit oddly after opening it. His grey-blue eyes clearly ask why John didn’t just walk in, but then shift in recognition as if reminding himself that John is a guest rather than a resident.

The detective steps aside and directs John to place his bags on a bench near the door. John smiles to himself when he sees the line of eight year old shoes next to three pairs of Sherlock’s posh shoes. He still wears it when he turns around to follow Sherlock into the sitting room. John stops next to the couch while Sherlock goes to the bottom of the stairs. 

“Olive, Gracie,” Sherlock calls. “John is here.”

“Ok,” his daughter replies.

Sherlock turns back to John and begins approaching the couch.

“They’ll just be a minute. I asked them to clean up a bit once you got here,” Sherlock explains and then gestures to the furniture. “Please, have a seat.”

“Ta,” John says automatically and sits on the couch, leaving room for Sherlock. John’s stomach flips when the detective sits next to him. His palms are sweaty and his pulse steps up its pace, but John tries not to show it. He’s being ridiculous.

“I hope she behaved herself,” John comments with a quiet laugh, resisting the temptation to wipe his hands on his jeans. 

“She was wonderful,” Sherlock answers with an expression that says John had nothing to worry. “They kept themselves busy all afternoon. I only saw them at snack time and then they were right back at it. They get along so well.”

“Good. That’s good,” John says a little stiffly. What is wrong with him? He is tense and apprehensive and has no reason to be. Just because he ran from his friend as fast as he could when he left a few hours earlier doesn’t mean he should be uncomfortable now. Sherlock probably thought nothing of it. John sighs internally, wanting to roll his eyes. That is the single stupidest thought to pass through his mind all day.

“John,” Sherlock’s silky voice draws John’s attention, as always.

“Hm?” he hums, looking at his friend and trying not to give away every thought in his head with just one glance. 

“We have a lot to talk about,” Sherlock tells him softly. John’s brows arch toward his hairline and his lips part in mild surprise. He is not entirely sure what Sherlock is referring to, but it can’t be what John thinks he means, what John increasingly wants it to mean.

“The girls have grown quite close in only a short time,” the detective continues. “They’re already planning a sleepover.”

“Oh,” John releases the breath he had been holding. He had not anticipated that, but should have. He nods in understanding, feeling both relieved and disappointed in equal measure. “I should’ve known they’d make that leap right out the gate.”

“Indeed,” Sherlock wets his lips, drawing John’s eyes and damn it if he can’t drag the traitorous little bastards away from that cupid’s bow. John is sure Sherlock notices, but he spares John the embarrassment of saying anything. “John, are you free for dinner next Saturday evening?”

“What?” John stumbles over the word like an idiot. He can’t have heard that right. Dinner? With Sherlock? With him? Then it dawns on him. Sherlock wants to introduce him to Jessie over dinner where there won’t be interruptions significant enough to pull them away. “Yeah. I don’t have plans. It’ll be easy enough to have Candace watch Gracie for the night.”

“Good,” Sherlock’s lips quirk up. “I’m glad. I...I have a lot to tell you.”

Before John can reply or even put much thought into the implications of that sentence, Gracie and Olive clatter down the stairs and bound into the room. The young blonde is at John’s side in seconds, hugging him and bubbling over about all she has to tell him.

Surrounded by constant chatter, John and Sherlock rise and all four walk to the door where Gracie pulls on her coat and shoes. Both she and John thank Sherlock and Olive for everything and then make their way down to Mrs. Hudson. She meets them in the foyer with a tin of biscuits, which they put in Gracie’s grocery bag. Thanking her as they head out the door, Mrs. Hudson waves goodbye with promises to see them again as though there was never any doubt of their return.

Once the door to the building is closed and John and Gracie are on the pavement, a cab appears seemingly from nowhere. John eyes the driver suspiciously for a moment, wondering if he is really one of Mycroft’s lackeys before dismissing the notion. He opens the door with the hand holding the lighter of his two bags and piles in with his daughter. John gives their address to the man and sits back in his seat just in time to hear his mobile ping with a text.

7 o’clock?

John can’t help the smile that blooms on his face as he types an affirmative response. 

“What does that mean?” Gracie asks, reading over his shoulder. John looks down at her curious face as he pockets the mobile.

“Olive’s dad and I are going to meet for dinner next Saturday,” John tells her. “So that means Candace will stay over and put you to bed.”

“Yay!” Gracie exclaims. “She promised to play Cluedo the next time she stays over.”

“Well, I hope the two of you discover it was the doctor in the lounge with the lead pipe before it’s too late,” John jokes, wrapping his arm around his little girl and pulling her close.

“Dad,” Gracie laughs with an eye roll and hugs him.

The cab ride home is not long at all and the Watsons joke with one another all the way to their doorstep.

---

A new chapter coming with promises of dinner, Jane, and you make us wait? Gah! I may not be torturing you with the angst of my other works, but I hope to still have to on the edge of your seats. Thank you, thank you one and all for your support and love. Love, Jane

@johnlock-rocks

[little-chattes]

Ok so I’ve done a complete re-read through and one thing that kept nagging at me was how little Gideon and Harrow’s relationship makes sense given its quite frankly abusive origins. Harrow spends her whole life making Gideon’s a living hell and Gideon just… forgives her. Total and complete forgiveness for an irredeemable girl.

At first I took the sudden shift in their relationship as lazy writing to rush along the end of the story, but that didn't make any sense either. Muir strikes me as an intensely purposeful writer. Then I remembered that Muir is also an intensely Catholic writer and it hit me. Muir isn’t writing a story about a healthy human relationship, oh no, she’s writing a story about Christ’s relationship with The Church… if Christ was a sword toting butch lesbian and The Church was a sardonic bone witch. Call it tender blasphemy. 

Now Gideon’s role as a Christ figure is fairly easy to parse out given that her dad is… God. But for the sake of self indulgence (I have to put my 15 year long flirtation with Christianity to use somehow) I’m going to go through all the parallels anyway. There are a LOT of them.

Let’s start at the very beginning (a very good place to start).

Miraculous Conception

Luke 1:34-38

34 But Mary said to the angel, “How will this be, since I [e]am a virgin?” 35 The angel answered and said to her, “The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you; for that reason also the [f]holy Child will be called the Son of God. 

Gideon is conceived by artificial means when one of God’s own servants (Mercy) delivers a sample of John’s genetic material to Wake, a ‘normal’ human woman who chooses to carry Gideon in her womb. Notably, the sample lives far beyond its point of expected viability, thus making the conception somewhat miraculous (“Only the sample was still active, no idea how considering it was twelve weeks after the fact” HTN 441). 

The Cuckold

Matthew 1:18-25

18 Now the birth of Jesus the [a]Messiah was as follows: when His mother Mary had been [b]betrothed to Joseph, before they came together she was found to be pregnant by the Holy Spirit. 19 And her husband Joseph, since he was a righteous man and did not want to disgrace her, planned to [c]send her away secretly. 

Gideon the First decides not to kill his lover, Wake, and releases her out the airlock (AND HE TOOK PITY ON ME! HE TOOK PITY ON ME! HE SAW ME AND HE TOOK PITY ON ME” from Harrow’s vision of Wake’s note, HTN 124) just as Joseph took pity on Mary, his betrothed, by deciding to divorce her quietly instead of making her infidelity public which would condemn her to death by public stoning (Deuteronomy 22:21). Gideon the First knew that Wake was pregnant and didn’t tell John because he thought the baby was his. Similarly, Joseph goes on to raise Jesus as his own son.

The Birth

Luke 2:7

And she gave birth to her firstborn son; and she wrapped Him in cloths, and laid Him in a [f]manger, because there was no [g]room for them in the inn.

 Neither baby Jesus nor baby Gideon were given a proper cradle, one being laid to rest in a manger where the animals ate and the other stuffed in a transplant bio-container (GTN 23). 

The Dead Children

16 When Herod realized that he had been outwitted by the Magi, he was furious, and he gave orders to kill all the boys in Bethlehem and its vicinity who were two years old and under, in accordance with the time he had learned from the Magi.

King Herod intends to kill the prophesied King of the Jews and instead of finding the specific baby, he just has a bunch of them slaughtered. However, Jesus escapes the slaughter of the innocents by Herod when his parents secret him away to Egypt.

 When the great aunts gas the nursery and kill the 200, Gideon is meant to die along with them but escapes her fate.

Now this event has a completely different biblical connotation for Harrow. 

Firstly, the murder of the 200 children represents Original Sin. In the bible, Adam and Eve disobeyed God in the Garden of Eden, and as their descendants, all of humankind is doomed to also bear the weight of that sin from the moment we are born until the day we die. This is a fact that is drilled into Christians as soon as we’re able to understand it, we are born wretched and unworthy sinners, and there’s nothing we can do ourselves to fix that. 

“I have tried to dismantle you, Gideon Nav! The Ninth House poisoned you, we trod you underfoot—I took you to this killing field as my slave—you refuse to die, and you pity me! Strike me down. You’ve won. I’ve lived my whole wretched life at your mercy, yours alone, and God knows I deserve to die at your hand. You are my only friend. I am undone without you.”

Harrow is a multitude, she is 200 children, the entire future of her house. Shes not just one human being,, she’s the whole damn church.

Naz/Nav

he went and lived in a town called Nazareth. So was fulfilled what was said through the prophets, that he would be called a Nazarene.

Although Gideon is not from the Ninth, she is given the Ninth name Nav when she arrives as a baby. Similarly, Jesus is known as Jesus of Nazareth, though that is not where he was born.

The Poor Bondservant

Jesus' role as a servant is emphasized many times in the bible. He was a carpenter's son born in a stable 

Philippians 2:5-8

Let this mind be in you which was also in Christ Jesus, who, being in the form of God, did not consider it robbery to be equal with God, but made Himself of no reputation, taking the form of a bondservant, and coming in the likeness of men. And being found in appearance as a man, He humbled Himself and became obedient to the point of death, even the death of the cross.

 Gideon is described as being made “a very small bondswoman” (GTN 24)

The Sword

Matthew 10:34

Do not think that I have come to bring peace to the earth. I have not come to bring peace, but a sword.

The Wretched Sinner

Harrow is wretched, self loathing, and cruel. 

She is in thrall of the enemy of god, a figure who was once gods most favoured warrior, cast into hell.

She is like the depiction of the sinner who loves the devil

It's important to note that Harrow isn’t a single person, she is a multitude, the entire future of her people condensed into one body. 

The Enemy of God

20 Then I saw an angel coming down from heaven, nholding in his hand the key to othe bottomless pit1 and a great chain. 2 And he seized pthe dragon, that ancient serpent, who is the devil and Satan, and qbound him for a thousand years, 3 and threw him into othe pit, and shut it and rsealed it over him, so that she might not deceive the nations any longer, until the thousand years were ended. After that he must be released for a little while.

Before the fall, Satan was described as a “guardian cherub” who resided in the garden with God (Ezekiel 28:14) 

(a funny aside, in the bible the devil is known as the great deceiver but in HTN Muir specifies that Alecto is incapable of lying)

A Life of Abuse 

Isaiah 53:3

"He was despised and rejected by mankind,

    a man of suffering, and familiar with pain.

Like one from whom people hide their faces

    he was despised, and we held him in low esteem”

They got up, drove him out of the town, and took him to the brow of the hill on which the town was built, in order to throw him off the cliff" (Luke 4:28–29).

Gideon lives a life of mockery and is abused by Harrow.

An Unlikely Savior

Despite the fact that Gideon does not fit the expected image of a Cavalier, Harrow chooses Gideon to be her sword and protector.

Despite the many openings Gideon has to make Harrow pay for the pain she caused her, she remains loyal to her

Trust

Harrow realizes that she cannot face the lyctor trials without Gideon, and places her trust in her

Christians are told they must place their trust in jesus in order to reach salvation

Purifying Water

Acts 2:38

Peter replied, "Repent and be baptized, every one of you, in the name of Jesus Christ for the forgiveness of your sins, and you will receive the gift of the Holy Spirit.

Harrow confesses her sins to Gideon and puts herself at her mercy

Gideon forgives Harrow totally and completely, she baptises her

One Flesh

Mark 10:8

and the two shall become one flesh; so they are no longer two, but one flesh.

“The imagery and symbolism of marriage is applied to Christ and the body of believers known as the church. The church is comprised of those who have trusted in Jesus Christ as their personal Savior and have received eternal life. Christ, the Bridegroom, has sacrificially and lovingly chosen the church to be His bride” (x)

Ephesians 5:25-26

25 gHusbands, love your wives, as Christ loved the church and hgave himself up for her, 26 that he might sanctify her, having cleansed her by ithe washing of water jwith the word,

They take the vow of necro and cav, one flesh one end

Gideon’s forgiveness of Harrow is reaffirmed

Harrow risks her life to stay and fight with Gideon, even if it means her death and thus the destruction of her death. Her love for Gideon is now greater than her love for the Body.

The Sacrifice

John 19:34

Instead, one of the soldiers pierced Jesus’ side with a spear, bringing a sudden flow of blood and water.

They will look on the one they have pierced'" (John 19:36–37).

Gideon chooses to die for Harrow, death by piercing

and when he had given thanks, he broke it and said, “This is my body, which is for you; do this in remembrance of me.” In the same way, after supper he took the cup, saying, “This cup is the new covenant in my blood; do this, whenever you drink it, in remembrance of me.” For whenever you eat this bread and drink this cup, you proclaim the Lord’s death until he comes.

In order to complete the lyctor process, Harrow both physically and spiritually consumes Gideon

Because of Gideon’s sacrifice, Harrow attains eternal life at the right hand of god

The Tomb

The Resurrection

1On the first day of the week, very early in the morning, the women came to the tomb, bringing the spices they had prepared. 2 They found the stone rolled away from the tomb, 3but when they entered, they did not find the body of the Lord Jesus

Harrow turns her body into a tomb for Gideon, a tomb fashioned after that on the Ninth

Resurrection on the Third Day

Thus it is written, and thus it was necessary for the Christ to suffer and to rise from the dead the third day, and that repentance and remission of sins should be preached in His name to all nations, beginning at Jerusalem. Luke 24:46-47 

“So many months had passed: and yet, at the same time, she had only lost Gideon Nav three days ago. It was the morning of the third day in a universe without her cavalier: it was the morning of the third day—and all the back of her brain could say, in exquisite agonies of amazement, was: She is dead. I will never see her again.” (HTN 374)

Just in case you missed this important piece of information, Muir repeats it three times.

Go, and tell them, then, that he that was dead is alive, and lives for evermore, and has the keys of death and the grave,"

[favefandomimagines]

I Never Planned On You 1

AN: Chapter 1!!! I plan for this series to go all the way to Deathly Hallows and probably a few years after in an epilogue, so I have A LOT of things planned!

Kendra Black didn’t have a conventional childhood. She was just a child when her mother was killed and her father taken away. Imprisoned for a crime he didn’t commit. 

Her entire life was met with scrutiny. Being a Black didn’t come with the best reputation. A family full of pure bloods who would do anything to keep their bloodline pure. 

Kendra thought it was the old generation but her generation was kinder, more accepting. With the exception of an occasional Malfoy. 

She was sent to live with her aunt Narcissa and her cousin Draco. But the second Remus Lupin, her dad’s best friend from Hogwarts, caught wind of the news he informed Andromeda. She was quite aggressive with making sure Kendra went to a good home that wasn’t filled with her family’s blood supremacy motto. 

It was the first time Andromeda and Narcissa spoke since Andromeda was cast out of the family. 

Kendra was always meant for greatness. That’s the one thing she remembered about her father. He’d make sure to tell her that she was going to do amazing things. And blood purity wouldn’t change that. 

Her first four years at Hogwarts were filled with two things: teasing and mocking for being the daughter of a convicted killer and keeping an eye on Harry when he arrived. 

Remus made sure Kendra knew the stakes if any of the Dark Lord’s followers or sympathizers knew of Harry’s enrollment at Hogwarts. 

She often thought back to the first time she met Harry. It was the first quidditch match of the term and she could tell he was beyond terrified. She did the best to ease his nerves but she was her father’s daughter after all. 

Kendra found herself at the Leaky Cauldron the day she was set to go back to Hogwarts. She descended the staircase and noticed the Weasley’s plus Harry and Hermione. 

“Kendra Black! Wonderful to see you again my dear!” Mrs. Weasley greeted the young girl. “Hello, Mrs. Weasley.” Kendra smiled at her. “Have you got all of your things? Extra robes, all of your textbooks?” She questioned. “Yes, they’re all in my trunk. Even a few extra in case I want to get head start on lessons.” Kendra said.

“Good girl, now go get some breakfast in you! You’ll need it for the train ride.” Mrs. Weasley instructed her. 

Kendra happily obliged, knowing not to disobey Molly Weasley’s orders. She walked over to the long table and sat in between Fred and George Weasley. 

“Hello, Weasley’s. How was Egypt?” She asked. “Ask Ron, he’s been going on and on about it. Telling every bloody person he’s seen.” Fred answered. 

Kendra laughed lightly as she grabbed the paper from George’s hands and went to look at the picture. “Have you not seen the paper yet?” He asked. “No. I’ve been in America with Andromeda and Ted. I got back a couple days ago.” Kendra answered. 

“Why?” She asked. “Take a look at the front page.” Fred said. Kendra furrowed her eyebrows and flipped over the newspaper and her face fell. 

Fred and George saw the girl grow white as a sheet against her dark hair. Her father’s mugshot adorned the front page of the Daily Prophet. 

“Escaped?” She questioned out loud. “I’m sorry, Kendra. Where do you think he’ll go?” George added. “I have no idea.” She answered quietly. 

But she knew of her father’s plans. And she knew he was going to be coming to Hogwarts. 

“Let’s not worry about my father. We’re starting our fifth year, we’ve come so far!” Kendra said, quickly changing the subject. “Considering you hated us first year.” Fred commented. “I did not hate you! You just weren’t my two favorite people that’s all.” She rebutted. 

“Well, now you love us. Couldn’t survive a day without our charm.” George added. “In your dreams, Weasley.” Kendra teased. “You show up there quite often, Black.” The youngest twin teased back. 

The dynamic between Kendra and George Weasley was quite complicated. At first, it was clearly just innocent teasing but once puberty became a factor, the tone became less innocent. It became murky what the meaning and intent behind the otherwise innocent teasing was. Kendra didn’t know how George felt but to her it was very confusing. 

The rest of the Weasley clan plus their three strays, made their way to King’s Cross Station to board the Hogwarts Express. It was customary, almost tradition, for Kendra to sit with the twins and their other friends Lee Jordan and Angelina Johnson. 

Kendra didn’t have many friends but they were the small few who didn’t see her for her last name. House Black had a very grim reputation and most students couldn’t see past the rumors and its unfortunate history. 

“Kendra! I can’t believe your father escaped Azkaban! He’s the first to ever do it!” Lee commented as the five got comfortable. George nudged Lee at his comment, not wanting Kendra to feel uncomfortable. “Well, us Blacks are quite ambitious.” She said with a breathy laugh. 

“I’m sure he’s nowhere near Hogwarts. You’ve got nothing to worry about.” Angelina said, trying her best to make her friend feel at ease. But it was hard to feel at ease when Kendra knew of her father’s plans. Well at least she thought she did. She hadn’t seen her father since she was all but two years old. A lot can change in 12 years, people can change. 

Kendra was afraid she would see her father and not recognize the man. George could sense something was wrong with the girl by the way she looked out the window. Her eyes moved with the rain drops that slide down the window of the train, head clearly anywhere but with them. 

“Are you alright, Kendra?” George whispered to her. Kendra looked at the redhead but was unable to speak when the train came to a grinding halt, the lights flickering. “What was that?” Angelina asked. “Maybe it was a malfunction.” Lee answered. 

The lights went out completely and the whole compartment became increasingly cold, the windows frosting. To them, nothing was going on but the windows getting cold and the lights going out. But to Harry Potter, he experienced something else. And it wasn’t long until words made its way to the cabin of five. 

“Did you hear? Dementors were on board, Potter fainted. Apparently, they were looking for Sirius Black.” A second year told them. Kendra’s face fell before she stood. “I’ll be right back.” She announced. “Where are you going?” Fred asked. “Going to make sure Harry’s okay.” She answered, as if it were the most normal occurrence in the world. 

Kendra made her way down the narrow passage to where she knew the trio would be sat. She noticed the compartment door open and peaked her head inside. “Harry, are you alright? Word travels fast.” She questioned. 

Harry always found it quite strange that Kendra was always so worried about his well being and if he was okay. He asked her about it once and all she said was that she knew his mother and father. They were nice to her and she wanted to make sure that Harry would be out of harm's way. 

“Yes, I’m okay. Just fainted is all.” Harry answered. Kendra’s glance moved from Harry to the man sitting next to him. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay. We should be arriving at Hogwarts soon.” The girl said before making her exit. 

She waited outside for a moment until Remus exited the compartment. “They think he’s coming to Hogwarts, don’t they?” She asked the man. “They have suspicion. His daughter and godson both in attendance. It wouldn’t be that far off.” Remus answered. “Do you think he will?” Kendra questioned. 

“After your mother died, you were all he had. He’ll want to see you, innocent or not. The Ministry knows that.” The man answered. “And we can’t tell Harry?” She further questioned. “Tell him what?” Remus retorted. “The truth. That my father did not kill his parents.” Kendra answered. “He already knows that I knew Lily and James, he’s going to start asking questions.” She added. “And you will say you knew them through Andromeda and Ted. We cannot shift suspicion on to you, Kendra. Your father will not want you getting hurt.” Remus said. 

“Now, I’m going to have a word with the driver. Make sure we do not stop for anymore Dementors.” He added before walking away. Kendra huffed before walking back in the opposite direction. 

“Oi, Black! Heard your lunatic, blood traitor of a father escaped prison.” A voice called. The way Kendra could describe Draco Malfoy’s voice was like nails on a chalkboard. 

And that was after his voice dropped. Living with the Malfoy’s for about a year made her hatred for youngest Malfoy grow even more. 

“What’s it to you, Malfoy? I thought we were done with the whole ‘we’re family, let’s be civil’ thing?” Kendra questioned. “Aw come on, Kendra. There’s still time to accept your family.” Draco said. “I’d rather die than be a part of a legacy filled with hatred and ignorance.” She sneered before pushing past him roughly. 

Kendra despised Draco Malfoy more than the entirety of Hogwarts. But the problem was she has also seen the way he was treated at home. Lucius Malfoy was the cause of Draco’s most loathed qualities. He was trapped in a family that didn’t see anything other than blood purity and that was ingrained in his head long before he started at Hogwarts. 

And an ideology like that was very difficult to get rid of. 

Kendra arrived back at the compartment with her friends and sat down with a huff. “Uh oh, someone does not look happy.” Fred said. “Just my usual run in with Malfoy.” Kendra said. “How you’re related to him is still a mystery to me.” Angelina said. 

“I’d say the only relation is the family tree.” Kendra added. “Thank Merlin for Andromeda Black for falling in love with a muggle born.” George joked. Kendra sent him a grateful smile, as he was always able to make her feel better after any and all rough interactions. 

The train stopped at the Hogwarts station and they quickly climbed in the carriages to make their way up to the castle. 

Kendra thought of Hogwarts as more of a home than her actual home. She of course loved Andromeda and Ted for giving her the best life given the circumstances. But she felt a sense of comfort being at Hogwarts. It was her safe place. 

All anyone could talk about, however, was the fact that Sirius Black was on the loose. She couldn’t blame them though. No one knew the truth, even Harry didn’t know so she felt she couldn't be upset with anyone.

She sat down at Gryffindor table in the Great Hall, making light conversation with her fellow housemates, as the choir gave their annual performance.

“How are you really feeling about the news of your father, Kendra?” George asked her quietly. “Honestly?” She questioned. George nodded his head with a soft smile before she answered.

“It feels strange. The staring has gotten worse but nothing I can’t handle.” She said. Their conversation was cut short by applause and Dumbledore beginning his usual start of term speech.

“Welcome! Welcome to another year at Hogwarts. Now, I’d like to say a few words before we all become too befuddled by our excellent feast. First, I’m pleased to welcome Professor R.J. Lupin who’s kindly consented to fill the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher,” Dumbledore started.

Kendra overheard Hermione and Harry discussing their own interaction with Remus in regards to the Dementor attack. She wondered why Remus really took the position. Was it to protect both her and Harry? Or just Harry?

“Our Care of Magical Creatures professor has decided to retire in order to spend more time with his remaining limbs. Fortunately, I'm delighted to announce that his place will be taken by none other than our own Rubeus Hagrid,” He continued.

Hagrid was always a favorite of Kendra’s. Mainly because he knew how it felt to get rumors spread about you that were so far from the truth.

“Finally, on a more disquieting note at the request of the Ministry of Magic, Hogwarts will, until further notice, play host to the dementors of Azkaban until such a time as Sirius Black is captured,” The older man said.

Kendra physically and noticeably stiffened at the grand announcement of her father’s escape. She felt the eyes of everyone on her, teachers included. She just wished she could apparate away and never be seen again.

“The dementors will be stationed at every entrance to the grounds. Now whilst I've been assured that their presence will not disrupt our day-to-day activities.” Dumbledore continued.

“A word of caution. Dementors are vicious creatures. They'll not distinguish between the one they hunt and the one who gets in their way. Therefore, I must warn each and every one of you to give them no reason to harm you. It is not in the nature of a dementor to be forgiving. Given the circumstances of Sirius Black’s own child here at Hogwarts, there will be no hexing or jinxing of any kind tolerated until he is apprehended. But you know, happiness can be found even in the darkest of times if one only remembers to turn on the light.” He finished before the feast commenced.

Kendra could hear the whispers from not only the other houses but those of her own housemates. It made her wish that Dumbledore wouldn’t have mentioned her in the first place. She could take care of herself and she doesn’t want to be seen as weak to anyone.

“I love being the center of attention but this is not what I had in mind.” Kendra muttered. “Ignore them. Like you said this is our fifth year, we’ve come so far let’s not impede our progress now.” George told her.

Kendra smiled at him before they continued with the feast.

When they had finished their food, some having bigger portions than others, Kendra and the twins made their way back to the Gryffindor common room. Of course the Fat Lady was more concerned about her voice than letting the students in but that was common at that point. 

Kendra made it to her dorm, the one she shared with Angelina, Alicia and Katie and began unpacking her things. 

“What do we all think about the Ministry sending Dementors to school?” Alicia asked. “I think it’s a terrible idea. What are our parents going to think?” Angelina answered. “I think it’s not safe. Especially for you, Kendra. They know you’re his daughter, what if they hurt you?” Katie questioned her friend. 

“I hope they don’t. I didn’t do anything and I definitely do not know my father’s whereabouts. Though the entire school seems to think so.” Kendra answered. “We don’t think so. Your friends wouldn’t think that.” Angelina added. “I was hoping this was going to be a good term but with all of this going on, I can’t help but get the feeling something bad was going to happen.” Kendra muttered. 

Of course her friends wished they could help her but given her situation, it was very difficult to make her feel any better. 

Later that evening, Kendra was sitting next to George on the couch while Fred sat on the floor facing them. It was like any other evening with the Weasley twins despite their usual need to get into or cause trouble. 

“Kendra, Professor Dumbledore would like to have a word with you.” Percy said entering the room. “Why?” She questioned. “He didn’t say. He just told me to send for you.” Percy answered. “Oooo Kendra’s in trouble.” Fred teased. “How can I be in trouble on the first night?” She asked. “You have a knack for getting into trouble, darling. Why do you think we’re such good friends?” George added. 

Kendra rolled her eyes and exited the common room towards Dumbledore’s office. 

It wasn’t every day you were summoned to the headmaster’s office but she had no doubt it had to do with her father. 

She had only been to Dumbledore’s office once before and yet it was still just as magnificent as the last. She stepped inside carefully, not wanting to disturb any of the artifacts that were inside. 

“You wished to see me, Professor?” Kendra asked. “Ah, yes, Ms. Black. I sincerely hope you do not take what I’m about to ask personally, but do you know of your father’s whereabouts?” Dumbledore questioned. 

“With all due respect, Professor, I only found out about my father’s escape this morning. I don’t know anything about where my father is or how he escaped.” Kendra answered. “I figured as much. The Ministry has been very interested in your knowledge of his escape. I will write to the Minister and tell him there is no reason for his suspicion.” The man said. 

“Thank you, Professor.” Kendra smiled at him. “Now, get some rest. I have taken a peek at our classes this term and you will need the sleep.” He instructed. “Yes, I suppose you’re right. Goodnight, sir.” She said. “Goodnight, Ms. Black.” Dumbledore replied. 

Kendra walked down the corridor back towards the Gryffindor common room, her mind reeling with thoughts and theories. 

The Ministry thought she was behind her father’s escape? Now the teachers find her suspicious? If it wasn’t bad enough that her peers whispered about her in the halls, now so will her teachers. 

She sighed as she slowly approached the portrait and sighed. She was already fearing that this was going to be a very long year. 

[howtosingit]

if ur ok with it can u break down the tarlos huggggg in the lst ep after tk tells evy1 abt his addiction? bc that gd huggggggg i wanna no every thing u think abt it i live for ur love for tarlos theyre just so so cuteeeee

IF I’M OKAY WITH IT?! Anon, I feel like I have been waiting my entire life for this ask. I could literally talk about this hug for the rest of my existence. I would talk about this hug every second of every day if I could and never get tired or bored. This hug has owned my entire heart from the moment that it happened and I can never get enough of it. Brace yourself for this essay, and remember that you asked for it...

Okay, so before I get to the actual hug, I want to talk for a minute about why I love it so much and also how fantastic the scene is that comes before it. I’ll try to keep both of those brief (LOL). If you want to skip to the hug breakdown, I’ll give the sections titles. 

Why I Love This Hug

So, why do I love this hug so much? Honestly, because I never in a million years thought we’d get something like it, and it was a big turning point for me.

I have not been quiet about how disappointing I think season 1 was. Too much Owen being Owen, too much Iris plot (which never interested me for even a single moment, unfortunately), not enough of the other characters - specifically the characters of color - and definitely not enough Tarlos.

Following episode 3, the show established a really frustrating pattern with Tarlos: they either never interacted with one another, or there was a moment of them at the end of an episode where they were in the same place physically but never spoke directly to one another. Frustration doesn’t even begin to describe the Tarlos talking drought between episodes 3 and 10 - and honestly? It’s bad writing. To focus on a ship for 3 episodes, giving them a lot of different nuances and conflict, and then do absolutely nothing with it? Stupid. So, going into the finale, my expectations were low. At that point, I was literally tuning in just to catch a glimpse of Carlos, with the expectation that that was all I would get. I really didn’t think I was going to watch the show after season 1. 

When the finale started with a Tarlos scene, I was honestly very surprised. But, then, of course, it was a “break up” scene, and I was like... well. So much for that. See, I fully expected, based on the trend throughout the later half of the season, that that would be the only Tarlos scene we would get, and that that is how they would end season 1. 

But when that camera cut to Carlos Reyes walking through the station door looking like a modern-day motherf*cking Prince Charming? I cried. I’m not ashamed to admit that. And then WHEN WE GOT THE HUG?! I can honestly still feel my heart pounding in my chest.

The finale didn’t fix everything for me; they still barely talk in their final two scenes. It’s not all perfect. But this hug, this small moment? THAT. IS. PERFECTION. (And I’m gonna go on and on about why in just a minute!)

Framing the Hug

I just want to take another moment here to chat about the entire fire station scene with TK and the team/Carlos because there’s a lot that informs why this hug is so freaking incredible. It has everything to do with the directing choices that were made - and boy were they good ones!

We all probably remember how the scene starts: extreme close-ups on TK as he sits waiting for the crew to come back. He’s anxious and possibly having a mild panic attack, and the camera is used to create that moment. Certain shots are out of focus, the shots that are focused are zoomed in to his mouth/hands/eyes, the sound is distorted, his breathing is isolated. It’s all super effective. 

So the observations that I make about this brief moment are: TK is stationary, the camera is basically attacking him. And TK is alone. Pretend for a moment that the camera is a character. The camera won’t leave him alone. No one is there to help him. His anxiety grows. 

(Even when the team joins him, the camera stays pretty close to him, except for one moment where it backs off but then approaches again. It continues to invade his personal space and his personal moments with his friends and his dad.)

Now, compare that to how the scene ends: TK walks away from the camera, the camera doesn’t follow him. It gives him space. His interaction with Carlos happens in the distance. If the camera is a character, TK defeated that character. He leaves it there, it no longer threatens him. I just really like that visual storytelling; that through the 4 minute scene, TK not only faces his demons, speaks his truth, and conquers his anxiety but he beats the camera and goes off to hug Carlos untethered. (He even bounces towards him, but we’ll get to that in a minute.) That doesn’t really have anything to do with the hug specifically, but I thought it was interesting anyway.

The other comparison that I want to make is a simple one, but it’s another reason why I love the hug: TK initiates it. He doesn’t initiate the group hug with his team (he actually almost says “we don’t have to do that” when Mateo moves towards him), though he obviously enjoys it. Owen initiates their hug, flinging himself at his son, and TK obviously appreciates it.

But the Carlos hug? TK approaches him, TK raises his arm to wrap around Carlos’s neck.

Okay, now to finally answer the original ask...

LET’S HUG IT OUT: THE BREAKDOWN THAT WAS ASKED FOR

First, can I just say from his first appearance to the end of this scene, Carlos is there for 20 seconds total and I am about to write a whole-ass essay about those 20 seconds?! I’m literal trash.

Okay, so Carlos appears looking like a fucking snack. He’s changed since the bus accident, looking like someone’s hot date, and I think we know whose... Owen is basically like “well this is unexpected” and honestly, same sir. TK is adorable and noncommittal, but clearly not surprised to see Carlos there. We’ve missed a moment between them since TK was sent to the hospital and Carlos called him impressive, that’s for sure. 

So when TK starts to walk towards him, the camera refocuses on Carlos and we see this adorable freaking look on his face that clearly says “how did it go?” or “all went well?” or something to that effect. I think Carlos knew what TK was doing at the station and he knew that it was a big deal for him, and I love that even before they are next to each other, he’s checking in to see how it went. He’s invested in TK’s well-being - as always - and he’s there to support him, both physically and emotionally. I COULD SCREAM.

In response to Carlos’s silent questioning, TK throws his head back and sighs. Like I said before, he seems to bounce towards Carlos, his body is pretty loose - his arms are swinging back and forth. This is a guy who just took a load off, and he’s relieved about having done so. The smile that Carlos gives him in answer says that he’s relieved too - that it went so well, that TK seems lighter. He might even be relieved that TK is being so much more open with him, clearly showing him his emotions. Their body language for this entire moment is very open, neither of them seem closed off. It truly does feel like, for the first time, they are meeting each other on equal footing, with all of their cards on the table before them. It’s such a different moment for them, certainly different than their body language during the boba date earlier in the episode.

I would be an absolute idiot if I did not pause and remark here how INCREDIBLY IMPORTANT IT IS that TK is the one that approaches Carlos. I’m not the first person to notice and say this, but Carlos “I hate being the one doing the chasing” Reyes stops just inside the door. He lets TK walk towards him. It’s such an interesting, nonverbal conversation between them. In this action, Carlos is saying “I’m here, but I’m still not going to force anything. You said you wanted space, so I’m giving it to you.” Sure, he comes to the station - but I would pay good money to bet that TK invited him there following some kind of conversation about what he was doing there - but he stays at the door. He’s cautious, but open. He wants something more with TK, but he’s not going to throw himself into it just to get hurt again. So, he waits. AND TK COMES TO HIM. TK leaves his own space and enters his. TK takes the final step. TK closes the gap. TK makes the big move, and they’re finally both right in front of each other, on the same wavelength. The find that solid ground from which they’ll build their relationship together. ISN’T IT JUST BEAUTIFUL?!

Seriously, kudos to Bradley Buecker for directing this episode with multiple levels of storytelling at play. It’s really great stuff.

OKAY, there’s a little Owen and Michelle moment, but then the camera finds Tarlos again. 

TK is standing in front of Carlos, they’re completely fixated on one another, their body language is just so fucking casual and comfortable I cannot stand it. See, the other hugs were all pretty intense: the team piles on top of TK, burying him, and Owen practically throws himself at TK, it’s a fairly hard hug for a man with an injured shoulder. But this hug? NOPE.

It’s so soft. It’s so gentle. TK raises his arm like he just can’t not wrap it around Carlos’s neck, like it’s the only way to be as close as possible to him and being as close as possible to him is all he wants in that moment.

What I really love about this hug is that it feels like two people who hug not because the moment is demanding it, not because they’re reuniting after a long time apart, not because they’re in a heightened state of emotion. 

These two hug like it’s just what they do, what they always want to be doing, like they don’t know how not to do it. The whole thing reads like “Hi, I’m TK and my arms belong around Carlos” and “Hi, I’m Carlos, and my arms belong around TK, what else would I be doing with them?” (It’s also the vibe I get from the club scene where they wrap their arms around each other.)

IT’S INTIMACY, Y’ALL.

Look, to be a Tarlos fan, I think you have to be willing to look at the relationship on two different levels, right? One is what they verbalize to each other, which is admittedly very little (season 2, come through). The other is the story that they tell through their body language. These two have seemingly always been on the same page physically. It just comes naturally to them, from the minute they first dance to their obviously very pleasing sex scene to the way they flirt in the bar to the club to Carlos at TK’s bedside. 

Their chemistry is made clear through how they physically relate to each other, and never is that more clear than in this hug that LITERALLY LASTS 2 SECONDS BUT CONTAINS MULTITUDES.

Okay, back to it... so TK strolls towards Carlos, Carlos waits for him - they symbolism is making me scream - TK raises his arm, it’s all super casual...

And then he just kind of literally falls into Carlos’s body, and Carlos basically just catches him. HOW BEAUTIFUL IS THAT.

They don’t even speak but because they’ve had a nonverbal conversation with just those looks that I talked about, there’s just this understanding that TK needs to just collapse a little bit and he never for one second doubts that Carlos will hold him up. THAT’S JUST WHAT THEY DO.

OKAY OKAY OKAY now we’re going to break this down from head to toe.

Like, the way that their heads just rest against each other, TK pressing close - I can almost imagine that he breathes in the scent of Carlos’s shampoo, his nose is pressed right there in his curls. AND JUST IMAGINE HIS SMILE, I BET IT’S BLINDING.

I love that their heads kind of curve around each other kind of, perfectly Yin and Yang - like, from above they would totally look like that symbol.

MY FAVORITE PART OF THE ENTIRE THING: CARLOS FREAKING REYES NUZZLING INTO TYLER KENNEDY STRAND’S NECK, LIKE HE JUST SHOVES HIS FACE RIGHT IN THERE

THE NECK KISS MADE ME SCREAM SO FUCKING LOUD THE FIRST TIME I SAW IT I COULD NOT HANDLE IT

First, it’s our first kiss since episode 2. 

Second, THE INTIMACY OF PRESSING A KISS TO SOMEONE’S NECK - LIKE THAT IS SUCH A SOFT PART OF YOUR BODY, THERE ARE TENDONS THERE, YOU CAN FEEL SOMEONE’S PULSE THERE - LIKE OH MY GOD

Nothing screams “I want to know every part of this man on a deep, committed level” than a fucking neck kiss, and Carlos Reyes just... he fucking does it. 

Okay but he really does bury his whole face in there like he wants to keep it there forever, I have truly never seen something so soft in my entire life. 

I’m so in love with them I could puke.

But like, that’s why this moment means so much to me, because I really do think that it’s a solidifying moment for both of them. 

For TK, it’s a “It’s okay if I stumble or fall because this man will catch me or help me up” thing

For Carlos, it’s “he wants me, he wants this, he’s taking literal steps towards this thing between us, and he encourages me to sink into him, he wants me to do that, he really wants this”

Like, fuck. 

Moving down... we gotta appreciate Carlos being mindful of TK’s shoulder, unlike literally everyone else who has hugged him. Like, he doesn’t even go anywhere near those stitches because there’s no fucking way he’s going to watch TK bleed out for the third time, nope.

And the way that Carlos just slides his arms around TK’s waist, pressing his palms into his lower back?! 

I think there’s a whole like, thing, where when a person’s hands are flat and open they’re like, open and vulnerable. So there’s just something about the way that Carlos presses both of his open palms against TK’s back that feels so open and vulnerable and honest to me.

Also, the way that he literally covers as much of TK’s back with his hands as possible? He doesn’t place his hands on top of one another, he stacks them along TK’s spine - he completely covers the entirety of his lower back. That’s a really vulnerable part of the human body, and Carlos instinctively protects it. AND TK LET’S HIM.

Okay, finally, down to their feet: TK really does collapse against Carlos, throwing himself on top of him and trusting that Carlos will keep him upright. All of his weight shifts to that forward momentum, he even goes up on the toes of his right foot. Carlos plants his feet, and as TK sways into him, he wraps him in his arms and gently centers them so that they don’t tip over to the ground.

He literally re-balances them. The two of them together find a balance with one another during this TWO-SECOND HUG. They shift, they steady themselves, they sink into one another.

It’s literally symbolic of them both being completely, 100%, without question, ready for the next phase of their relationship together.

They keep each other standing, and that’s fucking true love, y’all.

I honestly cannot wait for season 2. This hug and the final scene on the hood of Carlos’s car - with TK again making the move to embrace their relationship by physically reaching into Carlos’s space for his hand and dragging it into his own space, firmly opening the door to his heart to let him inside, while also settling Carlos’s hand between his own to let him know that he’s willing to protect him and his heart too - makes me believe that we are in for some truly wonderful romance with these boys. 

My heart will not stop screaming about it.