#Good thing she's alive for 80% of his story!!

[mulders-too-large-shirt]

s6 episode 6 thoughts

a christmas episode!! and i shall be watching it exactly one month after christmas. this does make me a little sad; i wish i could travel back in time with what i know now and watch it then. and then maybe i’d feel all festive. but! what can you do? i shall embrace it even though there stands between me and christmas 11 months.

i haven’t watched an episode in a week-ish, so i’m excited to get back into the swing of things. let’s gooo!!

post-episode thoughts: oh my god, this episode was incredible. what if we (platonically) went to the house where two lovers famously kill other lovers each christmas? and then those ghosts tormented us with our deepest insecurities? and when they tried to trick us into killing each other, our love was simply too strong and we wouldn't fall for it? would that be festive? would you hold my hand when we walked across the rickety floorboards and found our own bodies beneath them?

love... it's alive, and well. or, in some cases, dead and well <3

PLEASE tell me what you thought of this episode. i want to go into depth on each line and do intense character analysis.

but back to past me:

well, why are they in a haunted house in maryland on christmas eve?? is kersh punishing them with a christmas assignment?

(the answer is no. it was all mulder. honestly, i should have expected that by now)

let us open with some spoooooky organ music. while mulder has christmas songs on in the car!

scully pulls in late!! she was in the checkout line, buying gifts!! “if i heard silent night one more time, i was going to start taking hostages” <- lmaoooo, i love her!!!!! she is so real for that. she truly has endured so much.

he brought her here for a stakeout?! “on christmas eve.” “it’s an important date” “no kidding” <- BAHAHA, i love when she’s a smartass. now, why are they doing this!!!

she has wrapping to do!!! he looks in her car and sees she has gifts. and he sadly says "oh...." but she acquiesces and gets in his car to hear this spooky story

SHE’S GOT HOLIDAY CHEER TO SPREAD, DAMNIT!! 

(this line KILLED me. seems she does NOT play when it comes to the holiday season!)

she has FAMILY ROLL CALL at 6 am?!?! oh. god bless her poor soul.

he locks the car before she can get out and says he’ll make it fast, bahaha (loud scully sigh)

he starts talking about christmas 1917, and did he mention it was a time of “dark, dark despair?” well, it was.

oh, now she’s hooked on this story of star-crossed lovers. i heard the interest in that “go on”.

maurice was “brooding” and “heroic”, and he loved lyda, who had a “light that seemed to follow her wherever she went”; they ended their lives together so they would never be apart. and now, each christmas eve, they come back to haunt this spooky house in maryland.

AWWW, she compliments how he told the story, and says it’s a good one, but she does not believe it. 

“you don’t believe in ghosts?!” “that surprises you?” <- STOP, SHE IS SO FUNNY, LMAOOOO

“well, yeah! i thought everybody believed in ghosts” ohhhh… okay. yeah, he would think that.

she has to go now, and he starts to enter the spooky house. she asks “don’t you have somewhere to be?” and to that i ask, oh, my poor, sweet scully, where would he go? to the vineyard? last time we saw his mom, he was tripping on K, accused her of having an affair, and then she slapped him and he left scully at her house. i hope they made up for that. but i haven’t seen or heard any indication either way.

she does not want to follow his ass in: “i’m not gonna do it. my new year’s resolution” <- bahaha, but where are her keys??? 

oooo, spooky thunder!! clocks chiming eerily!!! she just wants her keys, and he claims that he does not have them!! do we believe him?? hmm… jury’s still out on that one.

scully knows the weather said there is an 80% chance of rain!! maybe even a white christmas!! oh, but instead of letting her enjoy such a thing, the doors crash and lock them both inside!!!

(something about her wanting a white christmas made me emotional in a way i cannot quite articulate. she's kind of a romantic. and i love that for her <3)

(intro time) ooooo, sooo spOoOOoky!

oh, so just when i think we’ll never see it again, they DO hit us with the full intro!!!! chris carter, i am onto your tricks. but i much prefer the full intro. it feels so right.

back to this spooky mansion.

LET HER OUT!! he is not helping her escape and is instead telling her there is nothing to be afraid of because “ghosts are benevolent entities…. mostly”

hey man. that's not super reassuring.

she tries to check the time- and the clock strangely matches her watch, which is super weird for an abandoned old house- and then declares that she REALLY HAS TO GET HOME, when some sort of figure in white appears in a crack of thunder!!!

LMAOOOO, SHE IS JUST MONOLOGUING ABOUT HOW RIDICULOUS SOCIETY IS FOR EXPECTING GHOSTS TO BE REAL. i would have copied it down, but it just KEPT going and i kept laughing.

she admits to being afraid. and i love that. i love that her method for dealing with fear is to infodump. yeah. you tell ‘em, girl! tell them about the essence of humanity and the unconscious yearnings to live forever!! 

but it’s an IRRATIONAL fear, she points out! i would be afraid, too! of spooky ghosts AND rabid bats, rotting wood, lead paint, and other dangers of creepy abandoned buildings!

she goes ahead to investigate this other room, and he says “i’ve got your back” bahaha 

she asks if maybe someone lives here, because look!! the light is on in the library!! they have a LIBRARY?? woah, i don’t even know what this room is- it's got bookshelves on the walls, but almost looks like a ballroom on the floor- but it sure is cool!!

so the clock downstairs is somehow still keeping time which is super weird for an abandoned old building, and something is… smoking, it looks like? yeah, maybe it isn’t abandoned. hmm… 

it’s the fireplace- it was just put out! “why would anyone want to live in a cursed house?” “mulder, it’s not enough for it to be haunted? it has to be cursed?” LMAOOO 

oh, he just now CASUALLY drops that there have been 3 double murders (all of couples) in the last 80 years, and all of them were on christmas eve. GET TF OUT OF THERE!!! this seems like RELEVANT INFORMATION THAT SHOULD HAVE BEEN MENTIONED BEFORE YOU BROUGHT YOUR PARTNER INTO THIS DEATH TRAP!!

and then the lights go out!! and a door slams!!! and there is some weird sound and creaking floorboards…. they’re locked in!!

he’s trying to listen to the floor….

AWWW, HE SCARED HER!!!! he held the flashlight under his face and she yelled “that’s NOT funny!” <- you tell him!!

he wants to free someone from beneath the floor boards? how did he hear someone beneath the floor? but it’s just a dead body. so i guess he was half right, as he declares. looks super dead. as in dead for a very long time. oh, and there’s another!!

a man and a woman!! shot to death. and she has bright red hair. coincidence….?

well, must be not, because scully points out that the dead woman is WEARING HER OUTFIT.

(he laughs) “how embarrassing” <- LMAOOO, NOW YOU STFUUUU!!!!!

(i'm so used to his dumbass one liners, but this one really killed me for some reason)

and at first i didn’t notice, because the dead guy had a winter coat on and mulder just had a leather jacket, but he is wearing his outfit!! they put together that it is somehow them, and they RUN!!

at first i thought it was the original couple that died, but how would they get under the floor? so maybe it actually is mulder and scully in some cosmic way. don’t question it too hard.

they ran into the same room!!! well, maybe if you have one stylish room, you just make it again. and again. 

nooo!! the rooms are looping!! and they get separated somehow!! 

i wish the lighting was better; i want to stare at these paintings on the walls. they look so pretty. i wonder if they built this creepy house just for this episode and decorated it all spooky, or if there’s a stock studio haunted mansion set that gets used for lots of shows and movies. the frames are so pretty!

but back to the problem at hand. where is scully?? he’s yelling, but she’s not responding!!

he shoots th,e handle of the door and opens it to a brick wall???

A MAN APPEARS!! “who are you?” “that’s a question i should be asking you, being this is my house you’re standing in” <- GET HIS ASS!!

perhaps they shall finally face consequences for breaking and entering.

mysterious man flicks on the lights. 

mysterious man seems to be unable to tell that the door leads straight to a brick wall, or perhaps mulder is somehow seeing that. mulder says “we”, tipping off the man that there is someone else here. but mulder goes straight to accusing him of being a ghost! a bold move…

mystery guy laughs and asks mulder if he’s a ghost hunter, saying a lot of strange folks come around. he tries to deflect with a “strange folks? like those under the floor-“ but when he turns around, there is nothing there apart from some furniture!!

you know shit is going down when the mystery old man says “why don’t you have a seat, son”

oh plot twist, mystery man reveals he is in the field of mental health and specializes in “disorders and manias related to pathological behavior as it pertains to the paranormal”. okay, yeah, now i definitely believe that this dude is a real ghost and he is just doing all this to personally torture mulder.

the type of ghost hunter this mystery man encounters, and therefore he also he believes mulder to be, is as follows: a “narcissistic, overzealous, self-righteous egomaniac”; “you kindly think of yourself as single-minded, but you’re prone to obsessive compulsiveness, workaholism, antisocialism- fertile fields for the descent into total wacko breakdown” BAHAHAHA

well. yes! 

while i do support generally roasting mulder for his various qualities, i also need to know where scully is. 

“you know why you think you’ve seen the things you do?” “because… i have seen them?”  okay, sassy!

“‘cause you’re a lonely man” <- OH DAMN. that shut him up.

mystery man is really being mean now… OH SHIT, did mulder steal scully's car keys to get her to stick around with him??? i hope that isn't true, but knowing him, it probably is, and that behavior seems to match some of those adjectives that were tossed about moments before

“you know why you do it- listen endlessly to her droning rationalizations. ‘cause you’re afraid. afraid of the loneliness” <- oh man. now you’ve got him sad and pondering. he looks like he’s gonna cry, but he’s gonna try and be tough about it and smile. and say politely that he would like to find his partner.

(and i would like to contemplate these lines- do we think they are true? or do we think mystery man just wanted to hit him where it hurts? "droning rationalizations" is pretty harsh; seeing scully as nothing more than a beacon against being alone doesn't seem to capture their dynamic accurately, unless you interpret it in the most selfish light possible, which is probably what that mean inner voice of mulder's head does. hmm...)

and now the brick wall behind the door is gone and mystery man can just walk through…. but mulder cannot!!! it is just a real brick wall!! and he slams his beautiful nose!!!

so... did he imagine all of that???

scully is still yelling for him!!

NOOOOO, SCULLY GETS SO SCARED AND SCREAMS AND PULLS OUT HER GUN WHEN THIS LADY APPEARS LMAOOOOO she’s absolutely SHAKING “please, i’m a little on edge” <- yeah queen, we can tell 💜

ohhh, poor sweet scully, apologizing for scaring this lady; it’s just that they found bodies! and when she tries to show her where the bodies are… there is only furniture!!

she very rarely gets scared. must have been the combo of spookiness on a night she associated with being cozy and warm. and also seeing what she does not believe in. AND being separated from mulder. truly multiple things factoring into her fear here.

scully has her gun aimed at this mystery woman, and her hands are shaking as she asks “where’s my partner?” - and when she goes to open the door, there is also! just! a! brick! wall!

how can this keep happening?!

she circling the mystery woman, holding her gun, and i guess we’re getting some psychoanalysis on both ends of this brick wall:

“oh, you poor child. you must have an awful small life. spending your christmas eve with him, running around chasing things you don’t even believe in” oh, wow... that is so mean.........

LMAO, mystery woman is going on about the “subconscious desire to find fulfillment through another” and “intimacy through co-dependency” (which. okay. yeah, that one is accurate) and scully's dirty little secret that “your only joy in life is proving him wrong”.

but unlike mulder, who was taking this analysis sitting down, she seems scared, but still spits out “you don’t know me!" i LOVE that about her!! truly!!!

“and this isn’t your house” “you wouldn’t think so, the way i’m being treated” DAMN! these ghosts are gagging them 💀💀💀

“well, then, why is all of the furniture covered?” “we’re having the house painted” “well, then where’s your christmas tree?” “we’re jewish” LMAOOO

enter mystery man!!!! scully is telling him to NOT MOVE or she WILL SHOOT HIM!!!! she needs to know WHERE MULDER IS!! and these ghosts better MOVE OVER THERE!!!!!!!

“this violates our civil rights!! i have friends at the ACLU!!” LMAOOOO

well, she makes them put their hands up, and mystery woman has a hole blown completely through her belly. so. not great. and his hat is hiding the bullet hole through his head!!!

i mean, it was pretty obvious that these here ghosts were lyda and maurice, but i wanted to go along with the mystery bit until the big reveal. and now i shall use their government names.

SCULLY!!! SHE PASSED OUT!!!! OHHHHH, POOR BABY

the ghosts are lamenting that they used to get years to drive the visitors mad, but now they get just ONE NIGHT!!! i would be pissed, too!!! 

BAHAHA, WHAT? “look, if we let our reputations slip, they’re going to take us off the tourist literature” <- BAHAHAHA OH MY GOD. wait, hold on, that’s so fucking funny.

she picked christmas as their one night a year because that is when people have no HOPE LMAOOOO and maurice looks down and says “these two do seem pretty miserable”

they smooch over poor scully’s fainted body as they declare they must show them how lonely christmas can be!!

mulder is climbing up the bookshelves, trying to get tf out of this trap room, when lyda arrives!! she calls him a “masher” (i don’t know what this means, so i hope it is not offensive) and he fires back with “frump”, only to be met by ANOTHER brick wall

(dictionary.com says that a masher is "a man who makes advances, especially to women he does not know, with a view to physical intimacy". so now we know! she accused him of hitting on her!)

“what happened to the star crossed lovers?” “oh, let me tell you, the romance is the first thing to go” <- that is a CRAZY thing to say about the guy you ended your life with 💀💀

he realizes that she is lyda, and the man is maurice!! 

she summons books from the shelves!! and says she was young and beautiful once, just like your partner. she hands him a book telling their story. so i guess you can still age in the afterlife. who knew?

she’s sitting down and he’s standing in front of her, but the focus gets all fuzzy and weird when the camera turns to him. i can’t tell if this came from reshoots or what, but lyda is crisp and clear and he is not 💀

she assumes they came here “to be together for eternity”, which gets him giggling 

“you knew this house was haunted, maybe you two should have discussed your real feelings before you came out here” OHH! SHE IS GOING THERE!!

taunt him. he just confessed his love a few episodes ago!!! do not think i forgot!!

and lyda shows him the hole in her CHEST??? i swear it was just in her belly with scully. “i don’t show my hole to just anyone” is INSANE, LMAOOO

“oh, you’re trying to tell me that scully’s going to shoot me. scully is NOT going to shoot me” AWWW, i love the certainty with which he said that

“maybe she shoots herself” “i wouldn’t let her” ohhhh…. he is so confident… but trickery is afoot, so who knows??

(also, i think lyda's line, “if you shoot first, for her, the rest is an act of faith” is a very fascinating one. one i want to unpack for years to come. but i do not have the capacity to do it now, so i am simply noting it)

OH MY GOD??? she’s trying to tell him to end their lives together???

(he sighs) “we’re not lovers”

“and this isn’t a pure science. but you’re both so attractive, and there will be a lot of time to work that out.” (she hands him the gun) “think of it as the last christmas you’ll spend alone” 

she drops the gun and disappears

so, do lyda and maurice need people (couples, specifically) to either kill themselves or be killed in order to maintain their spooky reputation? and maybe their spooky power? maybe since they haven’t had a couple’s death in a long time, that is why they can only haunt people on christmas? like, they only have enough spectral energy from the blood sacrifices to show up one day a year? i’m trying to flesh this out here.

scully wakes up!!! she’s alone with her gun and flashlight, and she still can’t get the door open!! when maurice reappears!!

“i am quite capable of pulling this trigger”, she warns him, and we know that to be very true!!

OH NO!!! i see where this is going… maurice is going to try and convince her that mulder wants to kill her… so she will shoot him first, and then they can be together forever or something…

she says that it is all just a bad dream, and it’s in her head, but. well. here she is. interesting rationalization on her part. i would have expected her to pull the folie a deux card.

maurice hands her the car keys, saying that mulder is acting out "an unconscious yearning from the deep-seated terror of being alone” <- so would that make him a threat? does he genuinely want to convince her that mulder is going to kill her so they can always be together?

mulder’s pounding on the door and yelling for her. she takes the keys and tells maurice to open the door. she has her gun trained on him….

she doesn’t believe him that mulder wants to kill her!!!!

mulder opens the door… and asks where scully is… AND HE SHOOTS???????

WHAT!!!!

okay, but he’s not shooting HER!!! he's shooting nearby though, so please be careful. she’s scared!!!

why is he being crazy!!! look at that physical acting!! he's deranged!! he says all that is out there is loneliness!!! AND THEN HE SHOOTS HER FOR REAL????

she falls over as she bleeds into her white blouse…. he stands over her, saying “merry christmas, scully”

but!!! it was really lyda that took his shape to shoot her!!!!

so he didn’t REALLY do any of that???? but scully thinks he did!

he runs in, finds her bleeding out on the floor!!! “i didn’t believe that you’d do it”

OHHHH, but then it must not really be scully either, because as she is bleeding out, she shoots HIM!!!

but it was really just lyda and maurice playing around???

SO IS SCULLY HURT OR NOT????? JUST ANSWER THE QUESTION!!!

scully is crawling away dying as "have yourself a merry little christmas" plays, and mulder is also crawling with a gaping stomach wound- or are they really the ghosts taking their forms? i don’t KNOW!!

they’re crawling toward each other, their blood and gore all over the floor, and here i ask: what the fuck is happening? mulder’s yelling after her, and they both have their guns pointed at each other.

she asks if he’s afraid, and she says she is, and he admits he is too; “i didn’t shoot you, you shot me!” so their stories diverge...

they’re rolling around in their blood and dying. hey guys. merry christmas.

but then he gets up, and says she’s not been shot, and neither has he!!! it was all a trick!!!!

they run outside, and there is no blood on them at all!!! they get into their cars and drive away!!!!

so, were they in pain like they WERE shot? did they feel like they were dying? or did mulder realize that it was weird he was in no pain despite being shot and then got up and defeated their ghostly tricks?

lyda and maurice lament how they almost had those two, and how christmas is another joyless day of the year- but not for them. “no, we haven’t forgotten the meaning of christmas”; they hold hands and then fade away

STOP! they’re making me sad!!!!

mulder’s at home, watching a christmas carol alone. and it seems to be his usual couch he has back, so i wonder if he managed to restore all of his things after the morris redecorating incident!!! he looks so sad, though!!!

there’s a knocking at his door…. he is suspicious…. it’s scully!!! she couldn’t sleep!!! oh, she asks to come in- she must be so nervous!! she never asks to come in!!! he grabs her by the shoulder

he poses a great question: “aren’t you supposed to be opening christmas gifts with your family?” (she did mention it around a billion times)

“mulder… none of that really happened out there tonight. that was all in our heads, right?” <- ohhh… what do you say to this… a proposed collective hallucination??

he waits a second. “it-it must have been”

(this, too, is FASCINATING. he never agrees with her rationalizations! why does he do it now? does he want her to have some peace for the holidays? i suppose a collective hallucination is less concerning than upending your entire belief system, but not by much!)

they’re both sleep deprived and mumbling about the ghosts poking at their biggest insecurities:

“not that, uh, my only joy in life is proving you wrong”

“when have you proved me wrong?”

“well, why else would you want me out there with you?”

“you didn’t want to be there? oh, that’s um, that’s self-righteous and… narcissistic of me to say, isn’t it?”

“no… maybe i did want to be out there with you”

AWWW, they have no idea wtf is going on, but look at the way he is LOOKING at her as she nearly falls asleep standing up, OH!!! i could cry!!!

they said they wouldn’t exchange gifts, but he has something for her!!! when did they say they wouldn’t do that?!! and he broke that promise anyway!!! look at his big stupid smile!!! look at her face when she sees it!!!! 

and she has something for him too!!! and they run to the couch and open each other's gifts! but we don’t get to see what they are!!! 

and as the camera pulls away, we see snow falling out of the window!!!

OHHH, MY HEART!!!!

man… 

lyda and maurice might actually be the ideal relationship. because i want to haunt people romantically forever. that is so beautiful.

oh, how did we manage to get such excellent character analysis AND silly fluff in one episode??? i feel like i’m going crazy!!!

okay, my biggest question: did he really take her keys??? no one says it outright or not!! it’s implied, but not confirmed either way!! if he did take her keys, that is not a point in his favor. but it would speak to the character flaws maurice accused him of having, in a drastically oversimplified sense. did he steal her keys and make her come out there so he wouldn't be alone on christmas? how can someone be so selfless and selfish?

hold on, i need to watch them open the gifts again… he’s shaking it around, trying to figure out what it is!!! and she’s laughing as she tries to pop it open!!!

ohhh my GOD. i need to go take a nap…….

they’re not lonely!!! they have each other!!! and even the ghosts tease them about having feelings they aren't admitting!!! 

scully was completely ready to just die on that floor, LMAO 

oh, she was so scared!! but she still meant business! she was going to have those ghosts stand against the wall and lift their hands, even if that meant she was going to faint!!

(when faced with people with holes in their body, usually she would not faint, but alas. she is used to this on dead people and dead people alone)

there are definitely some thing in this episode i am still trying to work out logic-wise (was lyda shot in her stomach or her chest? did she change where she was shot to mess with each of them? was lyda pretending to be scully for like, the whole thing after they first met? so how much did they actually experience in their own bodies? and therefore, it was the ghosts that were shooting them, not scully and mulder shooting at each other- but they both ended up fake shot in the end, and then the ghosts hoped that if they have them real guns, they would finish the job- right? how can we analyze the different strategies the ghosts used on each of them to convince them to shoot the other- telling scully that mulder is a danger to her, and telling mulder that if he does this, he will never be alone? is that a foreplay thing for lyda and maurice?)

but overall, i got the gist of it and enjoyed it very much. i think there will be plenty to turn around in my head and analyze for many moons to come. 

and i might sound like a rabid MSR truther, but i would very much like to think that they fell asleep on his stupid little couch after exchanging presents and felt each other breathe for a bit to make up for their exhausting evening before scully left to go deal with her family.

she needed to talk to him first before she did all of that family stuff… she was so bothered by it… and the way he just agreed with her that it was probably all in their heads… is he doing that to try and reassure her everything is okay, or is he agreeing because he doesn’t want to think there is any meaning to it??? 

GOD! i need to turn this one around in my brain for a bit.

the set was also super cool. i wanted to pause and look at stuff!!!

i am very pleased. i would have been likely even more so pleased had i watched this a month ago, but now i can go back and watch it every christmas as i desire! definitely a nice change of pace from the previous christmas episodes that shall not be spoken of in this post. 

but it was a very good episode, even if i am trying to crack the specific character implications (which will continue at length in the tags). some of y'all have had 25 years to do a deep dive into every line, reflect on how the characters see themselves vs who they truly are, and so on, but given that i have had 1 day, i have a lot of catching up to do!

(i would be interested in reading an analysis on this episode, or many other episodes, but those analysis posts tend to always have spoilers in them for things that happen down the road. so i shan't)

oh, scared, shaking scully, starting out apologizing for spooking lyda, then waving her gun around until they did what she said so she could find her mulder…. lifting up maurice’s hat and then passing tf out… rambling all about human nature and irrational fears as she was spooked by the scary old house… refusing to believe mulder would hurt her, and then having to confront the vision of him doing so... UGH!!!!! i just cannot TAKE IT!!! i hope they had the merriest christmas ever after this!!

it looked like she got him a video tape?? maybe a book? but it looked more like a tape to me. and what did he get her in that tube!! a poster of some sort, maybe?? i can’t think of many things that come in tubes. maybe he got her a nice print for her apartment walls. she loves her prints. 

tonight, i shall dream beautiful dreams of being a ghost with the one you love forever and making sure that you keep your scary reputation, lest the tourists stop visiting you. 

[cokalee]

Always lost, never home

[talekinesis]

I need Stan and Ford to see their mom again

Like let's say she's still alive and in her 80s, she's in a wheelchair (ambulatory, she has customized canes) she still lives in their old home because a part of her hoped Stanford would come back, and she didn't want to leave their home, so he'd know where to go back to.

She wanted to stay put in case Ford came back.

So imagine her shock when both her boys come back home to her

Obviously Stan immediately starts apologizing for faking his death, putting her through grief, her arranging and attending his funeral, but she stops him like "I'd much rather it be fake than real." That's her baby boy, back from the dead, something most people don't get, so to her it's a miracle.

Her Jersey accent is thick, and it actually brings out the twins' accents that had faded over time (Stan's sounds natural to him since he always retained it a little, but everyone finds it funny when Ford's accent comes back because he just doesn't seem like the type to speak like that)

THEY MOVE HER INTO THE SHACK

The boys wanna take care of their mama and keep her around since it's been so long, and Caryn is delighted to be moved out of a loud city with rough memories and into a quiet little town where the people are odd but nice. Ford and Stan both work together to make the Shack accessible for her. Ford actually sat in her wheelchair to test everything and make sure she could get around on her own.

They catch her up on everything, and at first they don't think she'll fully believe them but she's like "Stanford built an international portal and got lost for 30 years? Stanley took his place and turned his home into tourist trap? Yeah, that seems like something my boys would do."

When she learns Stan taught himself engineering to re-build the portal, she's obviously very proud of him. "You were never dumb, Stanley, ya just learned different. Honestly, I always thought ya had A-D-H-D but Pa never wanted ya tested. But look how smart and creative ya turned out, son! I think ya did good." And Stan is definitely not crying.

Personal headcanon: Caryn was also really smart and picked up on things quick. The boys had to have gotten it from somewhere, and it wasn't Filbrick. He just took the credit because 1) he was the worst, and 2) times were different back then and no one would have really taken her seriously. But she's the one who would fix things around the house since she taught herself how to keep the place together and running since Filbrick wouldn't pay anyone to come and repair anything.

Imagine little Stan standing behind her with a flashlight while she fixes the wiring in the wall because an outlet stopped working. Both of the boys helping her while she fixes the car for the third time that week because it keeps breaking down. Mama Pines taught herself how to keep things up and running because no one else would or could.

Caryn meets Mabel and Dipper when they come back in the summer, and Mabel is THRILLED

She's technically met them before but they were still newborns at the time so they don't remember her, and she hadn't gotten a chance to see who they'd become

Mabel makes her a sweater and she wears it with pride. And I really think it would go like that scene from Elemental

Caryn: You made this?

Mabel: Oh, yeah, it's nothing-

Caryn: Nothin? Babygirl, my designer dresses were made by 'nothin.' Oh sweetie, you have got to do somethin' with this skill. And to think, I have an original 'Mabel Pines.'

And don't think I'm leaving Dipper out of this, he gets his great-grandma's attention too. She loves talking to him and listening to him tell stories about the monsters they've encountered in the past. She sees a lot of Ford in him, but she also sees a lot of Stan in him in other ways.

I think Dipper's love for "girly" music is something Stan used to share before Filbrick "disciplined" him for it. Child Stan used to sit in the kitchen with his Ma and sing along to the radio, usually listening to whatever she had put on.

Now all three of them sit in the kitchen and listen to the radio while Stan cooks.

Ford feeling like a failure for putting everyone in danger, and Caryn just goes, "Come talk to your mama." And he does. He goes and talks to his mama, like he always has in the past. She's in her 80s and they're grown men in their late 50s, but she's still their mom, and you never really quit being a mom.

I might actually write a short fic about this, I love it so much.

[davidtennantgenderenvy]

On David Tennant and Aging

So, I’ve seen a lot of posts in response to Tumblr users’ habit of affectionately calling their favorite middle aged dudes “old men”, David Tennant in particular, saying things like “clearly you’ve never met an actual old person”, “omg you talk about these guys like they’re 80”, “please be normal about people aging”, etc. And on one hand, all of these statements are objectively right and true! But as someone who’s always been really fascinated by and found a lot of beauty in getting older (which I’ve explored in some of my writing on A03 because nobody else is going to do it for me), I’d like to provide a bit more nuance on how I think this label applies to David in particular.

David, obviously, in literal terms, is not “old”, at least not to me- I don’t personally consider people old until they get past 60. 52 is middle aged, simple as that. And yet, when I see David stuck with the “old man” label, it still somehow feels weirdly right, for a number of reasons.

It annoys me so much when people say David “hasn’t aged a day since Doctor Who”, because, well…

He clearly has. A lot. He’s got forehead creases, deep crows’ feet and eyebags, and I think that post-Fourteen we’re gonna see him rocking the grey temples a LOT more. He also has the voice of an older man now, his upper range is still there but the default is much more deep and rich, with a gravelly, rumbling quality that just goes straight through you. I personally think Broadchurch was when David finally started to embrace looking his age- Alec Hardy just wouldn’t have been served by Ten’s fresh-faced boyishness.

Obviously, these are the kinds of changes you’d expect any 52-year-old man to have, but something about David just makes it all seem a bit more… intense? The expressiveness of his face combined with his almost gaunt frame makes his wrinkles very prominent, and when he works his voice to its emotional extremes, his lower register can sound positively ancient, to devastating effect.

David, I think, is someone with an old soul- I don’t think he could be as good as he is at playing ancient characters like Crowley and The Doctor if he weren’t. He has lived so many lives, given so much of himself to so many characters, often incredibly tragic ones, and I think it wears on him. David also has five kids. FIVE. Do you know how exhausting it is to be one of the hardest working actors alive and be a present, loving father to even ONE child? But David somehow does it anyway! Nowadays I see him and my heart breaks because he looks so tired, so weary and fragile. But he’s all the more beautiful for it to me because I know that that is because he is kind. He’s a deeply empathetic person who feels and lives to the absolute fullest, and that story is written so clearly on his face, along with every other story he has ever been a part of.

There’s other things about David that make the label endearingly fitting- his utter hopelessness when it comes to technology, for instance. And he’s just got that warm, wise, grandpa energy too sometimes- look at that above Fourteen picture and tell me I’m wrong!

I once showed my friend who’d only seen David in Doctor Who and Harry Potter a picture of David from Around The World in 80 Days. It was a particularly emotional scene, and his face had just the most beautiful expression of compassion and sadness, every wrinkle on full display. And she said, in a less than complimentary fashion, “he looks so old!” Which, of course, offended me quite a bit at first. But to me, referring to David as old almost feels like a badge of honor, something he’s earned by living fully and selflessly, working hard and being wise and compassionate beyond his years. I think David himself is secretly more than a little insecure about the fact that he’s getting older. There’s sadness behind every jovially self-depreciating remark he’s made about his age in the past year, particularly in comparing himself to Ncuti Gatwa. I know how much David struggles with his impostor syndrome and how people perceive him, and I can clearly see in his eyes the fear of being discarded, the anxiety he feels about if he’ll still be as loved as he was back in 2007 now that he’s closer in age to King Lear than he is to Romeo. So I hope David knows it’s a privilege to watch him grow older, to watch his soul and talents deepen with the crinkles around his eyes. If I, in my silly goofy tumblr girl-ness, call David Tennant an old man, it’s because it’s a label that suits him beautifully- even if it isn’t TECHNICALLY an accurate one yet.

[purplelupins]

Lamb

|Midnight Mass|

Father John Pruitt/Father Paul Hill x Fem!

Reader

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI

Word count: 13.5K

Summery: An entire life of being a good girl was a difficult cross to carry...especially in a tiny town with 127 residents on a good day. You kept the town fed and spirits as high as you could, but when a new face steps off the afternoon Breeze, things around you start to change; you don't even know you're in the eye of the storm.

Warnings: nsfw, reader is religious, religious symbolism, ideology, explanations and general conversations of religion, age gap (like this man is 80 technically and he watched reader grow up, and can remember reader as a little girl so if that’s creepy to you then go no further), stalking, manipulation, murder (hello have you seen the show?), drinking of blood, hunting of a person, grief, description of animal death, reader is described as blushing, character death, non consensual help showering, guilt and god maybe more but I think that’s it…this is not really a fix it fic

I invite you to listen to the playlist I made that goes along with the story.

Notes: **please read** This story is told partially from John Pruitt's pov and partially from readers, as such, when it's John's (Paul) it will refer to him as John, seeing as he had no need for the alias when it's from his pov. But when it's from readers, she will be referring to him as Paul Hill. Thank you!

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Crude oil is destructive to say the least. It is thick, and cloying; dense and dark and it holds no mercy for anything it touches. It kills and pollutes and fuses itself to anything it touches like some dependant parasitic bond. Not that it knows any better.

At one time, Crockett Island was a home off the Eastern coast to close to 500 residences. There was a harmony and calmness to that time; back when the island had summer visitors, and talks of an airport, and no one had to worry about how to pay for their groceries or if they could afford to pay for house repairs after a bad storm. Back when people were alive and helped eachother and laughed.

As the Breeze approached the marina of Crockett Island, there was a passenger who stood outside, leaning against the railing as he remembered Crockett when it was a secret haven. Then that horrible accident…Now, it was more akin to a shelter to the last 127 souls who remained. The brisk maritime wind tousled his black curled hair and flickered into his eyes.

Not that he minded too terribly- he didn't mind much of anything.

John Pruitt sucked in a full breath of the sea air- something he hadnt been able to do in decades when his old self's lungs had began to weaken. It nearly brought tears to his eyes to have been blessed with this second chance as he took in the mass of land before him. His home. His duty. John knew what he had to do. A needle of anxiety poked at him as he hoped his large cargo was still safe in the hold of the small ferry. Of course it was, but he couldnt help but worry until it was safely tucked away in the rectory.

His gift.

“I’m here to help…just here to help…” He repeated in his head.

The ferry lurched as it docked, though his sturdy frame barely flinched. John blinked, and adjusted his satchel one last time before coming to the off-boarding ramp. He slowly and shyly looked at the other passengers, and had to press his tongue to his teeth to keep from acknowledging a familiar face that stood only a few feet from him.

Riley Flynn.

It had been years since he had seen that face, and he felt a swell of happiness at the prospect of having another addition to his flock to receive this gift he so eagerly wished to bestow upon them. He could hardly wait to see each face and see them properly with his rejuvinated sight. See how they’ve grown and aged. He couldn’t wait to help them.

John stood off to the side after exiting the boat as he waited for his trunk.

"Whatcha waitin' for?" Came a gruff voice that John knew well.

He turned to see the island handyman, Sturge, and a small smile pulled at his cupids bow, "My trunk…should be the largest thing on there I’m afraid." John said.

Sturge huffed a little, but nodded, "Yeah its comin', you need a hand gettin' it to where your goin' we got a..." The man droned on about helping the man transport his precious cargo, but unfortunately John had inadvertently tuned him out after something had caught his eye; someone to be precise.

It was the shrill chime of a bicycle bell that had initially drawn his attention, though now he was entranced by the young woman riding the very bike that had made it.

The same wind that had combed through his own hair was now blowing yours back as you came to a stop by the small marine building for the fishermen; a large parcel was fastened to the back of your bike. In fact you were so engrossed in calling to the fishermen on the dock, while unfastening the goods from your bike that you didn’t notice the supposed stranger with his brown eyes glued to you. Staring at how the men approached you and tried to sneak a look at what you brought for them; of course he also was not blind to the evident leers you recieved from the same men. Men he knew were married and had children who he had baptised over the years.

Yet here he was practially on their same level as he watched you; transfixed by the way your hair would get caught in the breeze, and how your cheeks were a lovely pink from the cold. how you had a certain incandescence to you that brought up the spirits of the worn down fishermen.

In John's old age, he hadn't been able to see you properly since you were born; cataracts and dementia coupled with a few other ailments made you into a foggy memory for him, even now. But he knew you. He knew you had been a lovely little girl, and had decided to remain on the island and open a small bakery; John could recall Bev mentioning it a few times that you made food for the Crockpot luck each year. He remembered thanking you...not that he could properly appreciate your gift. You were a familiar face to St. Patrick’s, too.

It was only now that he could recall baptising you some twenty years ago when he had just broached 60 years...and he could see what a stellar young woman you had grown into.

Beautiful.

John had mumbled something to Sturge about only needing help to get out of the marina, and his hand gripped the top of his bag absentmindedly as his eyes flickered over you handing out pastries and sweet treats to the men.

You smiled so brightly that it truly must have been one of the many gifts you were given in life from God. Your calling to brighten up the cloudy days of Crockett island.

A patch of sunlight.

As John pulled the crate up the stairs to the rectory and pushed it across the floor, the solitude finally let him start to think. He knocked on the trunk twice, and slumped against the side as his mind began to wander. John Pruitt had been a priest for well over 60 years; he had seen and heard and dealt with just about every scandal, thought, sin, doubt and joy you could think of. Which was why he knew that there was a divine reason behind your delivery to the fishermen coinciding with his arrival.

It was no random coincidence that your face was among the first he saw upon returning. God’s plan was at work, and John felt anticipation fill him at the thought.

You were a good girl, just like your parents raised you to be, and it wasn’t as if you had a reason not to be. You had made a comfortable life after your family had either left or passed. Moving was expensive and you liked the quiet. It was a simple life and an easy one. Habitual and concise.

You went to church on Sundays and attended daily mass with Leeza. She loved your cinnamon rolls, and you liked to sneak a few into her bag. John remembered noticing that after daily mass one day. It made his chest swell with what he told himself was pride and admiration; not pining and adoration. It excited him to see someone so full of life, even if it was quietly. But that excitement was a double edged sword, after all it too made the Father dread it when he felt it in him. That excitement would settle low in his stomach and make him lose his train of thought.

A test. It was all a test.

The first time you saw the man was when you were leaving the dock that morning. It was strange to see a new face on Crockett, let alone a handsome one at that. You had wished you were heading in his direction so as to give him a welcome; he had such a large trunk with him that you wished you could have given him a hand too. But alas you were needed in the opposite way back down Main Street.

You petalled down the road, and dropped off a few more deliveries down the island to the elders who couldn’t venture too far. Your routine every other day from 10:30 in the morning for an hour.

John knew that too. He remembered feeling someone cycle past him with a soft greeting everytime he visited town after mass. Everything was starting to click back into place as his memory was replenished.

You finished your route, and hopped off your bike as you came to the little bundle of shops in town.

You knew Monsignor Pruitt was returning the next day, and you found yourself hopeful that he hadnt exhausted himself…you were also excited for Bev to calm down after weeks of her relentless, poor moods…and that was saying something for a woman who already lacked a pleasant temperament. The Monsignor always seemed to calm her…perhaps it was that she was able to abuse his position for herself-

You took a deep breath to calm yourself as your temper flared at the thought.

The following day, Saturday, was your day to yourself. Your little shop remained closed until Sunday afternoon, and your appreciation for the downtime was great. You took extra time for yourself, and sat down to read that book that you had promised to read last year; tried a new recipe for dinner and baked yourself a fresh batch of cookies. It wasn’t terribly interesting, but it was easy, and you liked that.

As you brushed your hair out for sleep, your thoughts wandered to that strange face you had seen exit the Breeze the day previous. You wondered if he was visiting someone or if he was some kind of inspector for the island…so little happened on Crockett that new faces were so obvious. You were surprised no one had mentioned him during your day at the shop.

You shrugged it off.

It wasn’t your business.

The rosary you clutched as you prayed beside your bed dug into your skin as you squeezed it unconsciously. Some nights your worship came with difficulty…you mind wandered and you wondered if you were doing the right thing…praying to the right god. Not that you would tell anyone that.

You didn’t sleep well that night. Somehow you repeatedly awoke every few hours to a deep sinking in your gut and prickle up your neck that kept you from returning to sleep. The restlessness had you surrendering just before dawn, and you wrapped a thick blanket around yourself as you sat in front of your window that just peaked over the water. Your bleary gaze was heavy, though you felt yourself sober when you swore you saw a dark figure move into the thick bushes. You jumped, and felt your blood freeze, but when you leaned a little closer to look out, there was nothing but the gentle sway of the trees in the wind. It was so easy to dismiss what you had seen as simply your tired mind playing tricks on you.

You rubbed the heels on your hands into your eyes, and sighed as you stood.

Coffee. A coffee was needed.

The dirt road was muddy with the approaching storm that would be on the horizon in a few days. You hoped this one wouldn’t be too damaging.

You followed behind Leeza with Dolly, and told them what you had baked that morning for your shop, while Erin and Wade listened; enjoying how the air smelled of petrichor and pine. There was a comfortable chatter amongst everyone as they grew happy to welcome their Monsignor back to Crockett.

You sat yourself in the middle, in the same seat you always took. After months of Father Pruitt being gone, you routine was beginning to settle again.

The small organ began playing, and you stood to start singing with everyone else, but then as the alter boys passed you and you watched them, there was an unfamiliar voice behind them. You slowed your singing as you were once again distracted; sure enough, there was a much younger man who passed down the aisle in a gold chasuble and his hands held in prayer.

That same man from the dock.

You felt confusion fill you, and evidently you weren’t the only one as the churchgoers exchanged confused glances with eachother. You looked over at Wade, hoping he might look a little less confused as the mayor, but he mirrored every other face.

Knowing you weren’t getting any answers from your peers, you directed your attention to the pulpit as the stranger walked up to it.

“Good morning,” the man began, “I know I’m not who you expected to see this morning. I’m Father Paul Hill, and I was sent by the diocese to fill in for Monsignor Pruitt. Just know that I’m only here to help, and I look forward to meeting you all.”

You blinked in surprise at his explanation, thought you supposed it wasn’t entirely strange- just unexpected. Had something happened? You remembered how so many islanders had advised the Father not to make the journey, and now you were wondering if you all should have insisted harder.

The man looked a little nervous, but hopeful as he looked around to his new flock. But as his gaze passed over yours, you noted it paused for a moment. You smiled a little a him in hopes that it might make him feel a little welcome, and you briefly wondered if he recognized you from the marina.

There was a lilt to his strong, low voice that made you listen. He was compelling and direct; certainly not what you were used to with Monsignor Pruitt. He had always been a wonderful preacher, but for the last decade, he had grown slow and drawling.

You remembered your mother saying something about “It’s not about the sermon or who’s giving it, it’s just about being reminded of god and our mortality in this life.” And while you had always agreed with the sentiment, there was something about being invigorated while at church that was making your fingertips tingle.

You could already tell that Father Hill was appreciated amongst the churchgoers. There was a softness in their weathered faces as he spoke, like he was indeed connecting them to God.

As everyone filed in for the sacrament, you fell in line and felt your palms start to sweat. A part of you was thankful that Bev was there to provide the wine and your…replacement; you didn’t want to have to stop the church proceedings just to explain why you couldn’t drink the wine.

The discovery of your ethanol allergy had come as a distressful lesson when you had first drank the sacrament as a child. You still remembered what a fuss everyone made and how you had been rushed to Dr.Gunning who had only graduated from medical school recently. From then on your Monsignor had been very understanding and blessed your separate cup of grape juice every mass from then on.

When you accepted the wafer, and accepted the smaller cup from Bev, you noted in the back of your mind that the priest before you looked a little shaken as you drank. You paid it no mind- he was new and he likely had his quirks.

But it was no quirk. The Father felt his shoulders sink, and blood drain from his face as he watched Bev hand you that cup. He felt his idiocy fill him, then the subsequent dread and horror that followed his realisation.

You couldn’t drink the communion wine.

You never had.

A flash of the first day you tried it made his head hurt as he recalled how distraught your mother was upon learning what had happened. He tried to push the worried expression on his young face away but he was sure it was now more of a grimace.

You couldn’t accept the gift.

Panic clouded Johns mind as he continued to give the sacrament to each of the islanders. The devil on his shoulder proposed that it simply wasn’t your fate to be given the gift. But John had learned to ignore that horned heathen well, and he knew he must do something to guide you with the rest of his flock.

No lamb left behind.

As you filed out to leave, you walked behind Annie Flynn and her son Riley.

He had left years ago when you were still in your mid teens, and he didn’t exactly leave a lasting impression on a teenager. They stopped for a moment to speak with the new father, and while you wanted to say hello to the pastor, you hated to linger and get in people’s way; you knew you would see the Father again, and so you went to skirt around Annie, but as fate would have it, their conversation ended quickly, and the older woman took you by the arm as her son left.

“This is the beating heart of Crockett herself!” She beamed at you while you stood there suddenly locked in conversation with the young priest.

Annie had always appreciated your positive attitude and good nature. You found yourself always trying to cheer her up on her worst days while she worried herself sick about her husband and her son on the mainland. She was a mother through and through, and you often held her as a place-holder for your own flesh and blood since you saw your family only a couple times a year since they moved away.

And Annie seemed content with that. She had always wanted a daughter. The way she gushed about you then to the Father and introduced you had you trying to brush off the praise with a few failed “Oh no I-“ and “I’m not-“ and so forth. Your flushed cheeks had another agenda entirely however when you finally looked up at the Fathers gaze.

It was those soft brown eyes of his that struck you first. So focused and yet so…sad. Like he might cry at any moment. You wondered if his eyes stung.

He was handsome in a weathered, timid sort of way; couldn’t have been more than mid forties. He looked as if he had seen years of life beyond his age. Perhaps years of absolving sins had taken a toll.

“She is our baker here on Crockett…helps liven up the plain variety of food we have.” She half joked, thought it was mostly truth. Crockett was a place of bread and butter- basics. So a treat of some kind was greatly appreciated, and you were happy to deliver just that.

“Ah yes…the Monsignor mentioned his love for your pastries.” He smiled genuinely and nodded as if recalling being told, “I’ll be sure to stop by.”

There was a boyishness to him that endearing enough to settle your nerves.

Your eyes widened in surprise, “He did?” You asked.

You were certain Pruitt wouldn’t be able to recall something so insignificant in his declining health and old age. It had only been a few years that you had been running the shop, and you knew he hadn’t been fully coherent long before that. A poetic connection between him and Crockett Island you supposed.

Father Paul seemed delighted by your shock though, and the crows feet around his eyes deepened, “Yes he was quite adamant I assure you. I believe you’re also a regular face I will be seeing and that it may just be you and Leeza at times.” He added.

You clasped your hands in front of you to keep from fidgeting.

“I- well I try to be.” You looked away timidly, and shuffled your feet as Annie smiled at you. You weren’t used to someone being so passionate about small things- let alone a man.

“Oh she’s just modest.” The older woman said.

Father Paul chuckled, “Modesty is a virtue. Now, I noticed you weren’t able to drink the sacramental wine, is there something I should know?” He seemed so curious and invested.

You nodded, “I’m afraid I’m allergic to something in wine- ethanol. I’ve always been given plain grape juice instead…the Monsignor was always kind enough to have it ready. I hope that won’t be a problem-“

Father Paul shook his head as he rushed to put your mind at ease.

“-no no not- not in the least I assure you. Your presence and dedication is more than enough…you still receive the lords blessing even if it is from a sweeter drink.” He mused.

“Thank you, Father.” You replied and looked down again so as to hide the warming of your cheeks again.

Annie smiled and hugged you, “Well then, not to cut this short, Father but I’m starting my shift in a half hour. I’ll see you then?” She asked you.

You nodded, “Sure will. I’ll make us some coffee. I’m sure the sheriff could use some too.” You called after her as she walked away and bid the father farewell. Leaving the two of you to stand together. You turned back to Father Hill as he towered over you, and fought to find something to say as your nerves kicked in. You were usually good at finding conversation but you felt like you were a kid being forced to talk to some family member your mom insisted you knew.

You took a deep breath. “It was-“

“I hope-“

You both spoke over each other, and both looked at one another apologetically. You shook your head and smiled a little to ease his embarrassment, “Please you first, Father Hill.”

He looked at you for a moment for confirmation to ensure that he wasn’t being rude then he began again, “I was only going to say that I hope to see you here again…it’s enlightening to see a youthful face in a church.” He grinned- a curl of his dark hair falling over his forehead as he looked down at you.

You returned his grin, though yours was a little forced in comparison.

Attending church was a routine ingrained in you since childhood, and now it was just something expected of you. You knew the day you didn’t attend would make the talk of the town and you were never in the mood for Beverly to come knocking on your door to berate you.

You could still remember a couple years ago when you were sick and she brought you a batch of soup for you to help…the offer had been kind enough, but the soup itself had made you want to curl into a ball and chew on a dead seagull.

“I assure you.” You echoed his words from earlier, and he smiled. “I’ll see you soon. Enjoy the rest of your day, Father.” You said, and slowly stepped past him.

He turned his body to follow you. John told himself it was manners to speak to someone with your whole attention, and while that was true, he simply needed one last proper look at you before you left.

“Likewise, y/n.” He called to you as you walked down the steps. Out of your peripheral, you could see Bev still bending by the ear of one of the community members, and you made quick work of sending her a tight smile then hurrying along the path to the road. She returned the forced expression; not that she knew you forced it. Practice makes perfect.

The hairs on the back of your neck began to stand on end as you descended the hill from St. Patrick’s. There was something in the back of your mind that told you not to look behind you, but against your better judgement, you did just that. A pair of soft brown eyes were trained on you as you walked.

The Father’s stare startled you and made your stride stutter.

He was intense and direct. He wasn’t like most of the islanders, and he made you uneasy somehow, but regardless, you cast him a friendly wave, and continued on your way- but that same prickle on the back of your neck simply wouldn’t let go.

John watched you go until your head disappeared down onto the main road and out of sight. He felt his nerves pick up as he said his last goodbyes and returned inside the church. He sat amongst the pews and stared up at the four walls around him. The weight of the gift he was tasked to reveal was growing heavy. He wished so badly to bestow this marvel to every dedicated church goer, and he would.

To every single one except you.

Why you?

Certainly you were in some way special; that had been revealed to him when it had been your face for him to first see upon returning.

Fate.

But if that were the case then surely your way to salvation should be easier…yet here you were unable to accept it; all because of an allergy.

John sighed as he made up his mind to proceed as he did with the rest of his flock. He hoped you wouldn’t taste the blood in your juice tomorrow- if you did he would simply have to find another way for you to accept it.

No lamb left behind.

The walk into town that usually brought you so much peace now came with an impending sense of foreboding. You knew that nasty storm was nearly at your doors, but storms had never bothered you too much. No, there was something in the air that made you all too aware of your heartbeat, and your breath and how your skin felt. You barely paid attention to anything around you as your leisurely pace unconsciously changed into one of hurry.

It wasn’t until you had just passed by the general store, and didn’t respond to Hassan’s greeting that you snapped out of your trance.

“Y/n? Y/n you alright?” He called to you as you strode right past him.

You nearly jumped out of your skin.

“Sh-sheriff, I’m so sorry…” you stopped in your tracks and furrowed your brow as you fought to find an answer for your odd attitude, “I’m…I think I’m just a little out of it today.” You laughed.

The Sheriff glanced you over for a moment, then nodded slowly. “There’s a fresh pot inside.” He tipped his cup filled with black coffee to you. He was a nice man. Exhausted…mistreated, but caring.

You smiled and nodded, “I’ll come by in a few minutes. Thank you.” You hoped your smile would reassure him. You didn’t need to worry an already stressed father and someone you would consider a friend. An awkward older friend who needed a break but a friend nonetheless. “Want an eclair? Got a few extra that I made this morning.” You asked.

He shook his head gently, “If I didn’t know better I’d say you were trying to give me my own form of insulation for winter.”

You gasped in faux shock, and shook your head, “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

The pebbles and dirt crunched under your boots as you stepped up to the little entrance of your bakery beside the general store. As soon as you stepped inside, you suddenly felt a little safer…at ease. As if you had anything to be afraid of.

You suddenly felt very silly.

Ridiculous.

There had only been one change that day, and that was the charismatic Father Paul Hill.

Had you become so sheltered on that little island that you were afraid of a stranger coming into your community? Surely not.

No. You hadn’t felt fear in the man’s presence so who would you feel it now?

Ridiculous.

Stop it.

You closed your eyes and did your best to clear your mind of any ominous thought and any thought about the new Father.

Out of sight. Out of mind. Not your business.

You strode to the back of the shop and prepared your morning deliveries; it was always the same. It was easy. And you knew it was appreciated. Feeling important was a virtue in a small community that was run into the ground.

Making people feel cared for made you happy.

The day came and went just as it always did, but you couldn’t help but feel like the island had turned a little off its axis. Like something had just nudged it into a slight other direction. Your suspicions were only enforced and justified when almost every one of your regulars mentioned the new pastor to you as they selected their desired sweet or savoury treat from your display case.

“Such a striking young man.”

“Too modern.”

“Nothing like our dear Monsignor…but I can’t say I’ve stayed so engaged during a homily in years.”

“How long do you think he’ll stay?”

“Where do you think he came from?”

And so on.

You had hoped any mention of the man would remain in your own thoughts, but it was as if he had swept through the town like a stiff winter breeze.

By the time you sold your last cheese bun and lemon tart, and closed up shop, there was a very real wind that surged right down Main Street. The cool air pricked right through your thick tights under your skirt and made you made a mental note to dig out some warmer ones.

That storm was due that evening. It had been the talk of the town all day, right after the endless conversations of the invigorating preacher. Once you had gotten home, you felt it start to push up against your boarded windows. The wind howled, and the lights flickered as the sky darkened outside; you took that as a sure sign to light a few candles.

There was something ethereal in the light from a candle. So beautiful. If you caught the flames out of the corner of your eyes, sometimes it looked like they had little halos.

You smiled softly at the thought.

You never stayed up late on storm nights. In fact you slept earlier than usual. You knelt beside your bed and clasped your hands in prayer.

“Father, as I lie down for sleep tonight, wash over me with the warmth of Your love. In Your mercy, soothe my pain, whether in my body-“ you paused your recitation when that familiar prickle began its way up the back of your neck like it had for the past two days. You listened intently, but there was nothing but the wind.

“-mind or soul. Grant me a restful night of sleep so that when I awake, I'm strengthened to do Your will. Amen.” You decided against thinking too much of the unease, and settled under your blankets and closed your eyes.

You didn’t dream that night. In fact it felt as if you had merely shut your eyes for a moment before you were opening them again at the sound of your alarm.

The storm had blown itself out by the time you took your wooden shutters off your windows. There was a sliver of light coming over the horizon as you peered out at the water. You stared at it intently, and clenched your hand into an absentminded fist.

You tried the lightswitch in your kitchen, and praised the lord that it worked. You wondered if Sturge had been up even earlier than you to fix the power lines.

The outside of your house was a mess complete with a crab trap hanging off your fence. Nets, ropes, bushes, clothes, coolers, toys riddled the streets as you walked in the dim light to your shop. But then after only a few minutes, your nose picked up a smell. You were used to the strong smell of the ocean, especially after the storms, but this was different. You started towards the beach, and nearly gagged when you got closer. You had to cover your mouth once you stood on the sand.

From left to right, the beach was littered with the corpses of cats. You knew there were quite a lot on the island, and had seen the odd dead feline, but this was as if something had wiped out every cat and dumped them by the shore.

Anxiety filled you as you stared.

“Oh my-…”

You spun around to see Hassan standing beside you; uniform half buttoned and a bag over his shoulder that you knew had his lunch. The two of you exchanged looks of distress, and you visibly started to shake the longer you looked.

“What…what would…Hassan what-…” you looked up at the man, and he only shook his head. At a loss for words.

“Cmon. I’ll walk you in. Gotta…gotta call the mayor.” He wrapped an arm around your back to direct you away from the mess, “We’ll take care of it.”

You nodded and followed his lead away from the beach and into town, but you found yourself remembering that prickle up the back of your neck that night, and wondered if it had had anything to do with the slaughter. Was there some predator that had somehow made it onto the island without anyone knowing? Was someone going around killing cats? Had the solitude of Crockett Island finally made someone snap and rip every feline to shreds?

The call of your name cut through your thoughts.

You looked up and saw that you were ex standing outside your shop, and the poor man who had walked you there looked even more distressed at your quietness.

“Thank you…thanks Hassan…I’ll…let- let me know if you find anything out.” You said quietly but gave him a small smile of reassurance.

“I will. Take care okay?” He said, and you nodded, but he was already disappearing up the steps into the general store.

You nodded to yourself, and unlocked your shop and stood inside.

Then you took a deep breath.

And got to work.

By the time 8:30 came around, your nerves had calmed, and your nose was filled with a far more pleasant smell of muffins, and tarts and sourdough.

You brushed off your hands, and bundled up the deliveries for that day, then quickly locked the shop up and left for mass. As you walked, you found yourself ever so slightly reluctant. Nervous like your first day of school.

It wasn’t until you heard the sound of Leeza and Annie behind you that you snapped out of a daze that had settled over you.

“Good morning, dear!” Annie called to you as you stopped and waited for them.

“Morning. You all survived the storm just fine?” You asked politely and began walking with them.

“Oh we were fine. Just a breeze.” Annie said good-naturedly, “Sure was strange what with all those cats this morning though hey? Heard Dolly saying they’re still trying to work out what happened.” She said a little hushed.

You nodded, “I know…the Sheriff and I found them this morning…scared me half to death…”

“They’ll figure it out I’m sure.” Annie dismissed the conversation; you could tell she was worried. She always worried.

Not wanting that to be the last conversational subject between your little group, you changed the subject.

“Anything exciting happening at school today?” You asked Leeza.

She shook her head, “Nah…but I think we’re starting on this project that I’m excited about…” the girl began on a tangent regarding her science project. It was nice to listen to someone prattle on about something that would be insignificant in a few years…it was somehow refreshing. Somehow you felt like an older sister to Leeza, and having her confide in you so honestly about mundane things made your heart swell.

The three of you entered the church, and just as always, you sat in your usual spot in the middle, across from Leeza and Annie. And you waited.

“Our processional hymn this morning is number 400 in the red hymnal. “Holy, Holy, Holy.” Please rise. “ came the voice of Father Hill from the door of the church.

A shiver made you twitch, and you blamed a draft in the church. You stood just as you always did; not needing the hymnbook but still holding it out of habit.

You sang, and kept your eyes trained on the text as the Father passed, his hands pressed in prayer as he walked up to the pulpit and continued his routine. You could feel the heavy presence of Bev Keene permeating the air, and you subconsciously ground your teeth. You knew if she had her heart in the right place, she could be a magnetic, beloved member of any community.

But sadly she didn’t have a heart to have it in the right place to begin with. Soot and malice was what sat beneath that gold cross she wore.

“Before he was given up to death, a death he freely accepted, he took bread and gave you thanks…”

Your eyes glazed over at you listened to that voice of his. Not that you weren’t hearing his words, or the message behind them; you were paying attention. But just like being read a story by your mother at bedtime versus a babysitter you had only just met, there was a certain comfort to be found in the former. Yet somehow, where Father Hill ought to have been less comforting, he brought great solace to his homily. It felt as if he was the one you were so used to listening to. Somehow he had eased himself into the Monsignor’s shoes seamlessly and had begun to preach his own gospel that melded with the tone you had become accustomed to since childhood and lulled you into a safe haven of worship.

“…He broke the bread, gave it to his disciples, and said…”

There was an effortlessness in his sermon. You wondered if he had started preaching very young.

With only 4 islanders in the church to worship, Father Hill stepped down from the pulpit and began offering the Body and blood of Christ to each. He saved you for last, you noticed, and for good reason as he retrieved your smaller cup and returned to you. You cupped your hands in front of you, and waited dutifully.

“Body of Christ, y/n.” Came that gentle voice of his like he cared deeply that you accept the blessing.

His long fingers graced the pads of yours so slightly as he placed the wafer on your fingers, and you failed to hide the hitch of your breath as you murmured “Amen.”

Then as he held your small cup for you to drink from, you failed to see how his gaze caught the sight of your pink tongue peaking out just over your teeth as you went to drink. John didn’t know why he noticed that; he supposed he noticed many small details now. Seeing your tongue now must have reminded him of any smaller animal with its mouth open- a small rabbit, a mouse, a cat, a-

A lamb.

The juice tasted strange that morning and somehow thicker than usual. You wondered if it was just in your head after being so shaken from the cats…

Annie took it upon herself to walk Leeza to school that morning, which left you to exit the church alone. On a day like that with the sun shining, you found coming out of the house of God almost ethereal. The light poured in through the single-paned windows and illuminated the dust particles that drifted so gently.

Once you stepped outside, the fresh air filled your lungs and you let yourself smile easily up at Father Paul as he stood patiently.

“Good morning, Father Hill.” You said, craning your neck to look up at the man.

“The beating heart herself!” He smiled, reiterating Annie’s analogy of you.

A good memory.

And a good sense of humour.

The warming of your cheeks was obvious , and John felt a little tug in his chest at the sight of it. Little flower pedals colouring your cheeks.

“She- I’m…”you tried to find a way to humble the dramatic compliment, but failed, “I hope you made it through the storm alright, Father. One hell of a welcome.” You said, trying to redirect the conversation, and to your mercy, Father Hill went along with it.

He nodded.

“It was quite nice actually. Being plunged into darkness almost feels like a renewal of some kind.” He said thoughtfully as his mouth seemed to threaten to tug into a smile.

“Quite sobering.” You agreed, “I’m glad it didn’t chase you off. Don’t know how many times I’ve seen someone buy a summer home here then flee the moment they have to endure a storm.” It was true. A little funny too.

The Father chuckled and nodded, “A fearsome thing to behold, but still a reminder of our creator…the power or lord holds, whipping storms against our rocks and shores just to knock on our doors and say hello. Almost reassuring.” He rambled a little.

You tilted your head, “That’s a very thoughtful way to look at it. Certainly more poetic than what you’ll hear from most of the locals.”

“And what would they say?” He shot back playfully.

You breathed out a laugh.

“One too many curse words for my liking, Father. And a couple confusing analogies.” You said.

Father Hill chuckled and somehow you half expected him to pat your head and tell you to run along. The Monsignor used to when you were a child so it wouldn’t be entirely foreign.

“Well we all have our ways of dealing with hardship-“

“Ah you’re still here, y/n!”

During your conversation you hadn’t noticed how the two of you had come to shift closer to one another; but when that cutting voice of Bev Keen startled you, you took an instinctive step away from the man with whom you had been speaking.

You forced a polite smile, “I am. Just asking how Father Paul made it through the storm-“

“The rectory has always been just fine.” She shot at you with a tight smile as if trying to end your time there quickly.

John could see your lips pull down so slightly into a tiny frown when Bev cut you off; he felt a flicker of irritation. Odd.

You recovered, acting like she didn’t mean any harm. “I’m sure it has. But just because a place is safe doesn’t remove fear. The Father here seemed to have handled it just fine though like you said… “In the storms, winds and waves, He whispers “fearnot” for I am with you.”.” You smiled up at the Father, and he returned it gently.

“Psalm 107:29…truer words could not exist for Crockett Island.” Father Paul said fondly to you; he had a way of speaking to those around him like there was a bubble around the two of you as you conversed. Like nothing else could take his attention from you.

You took in a breath and clasped your hands in front of you when you could feel the gaze of Bev scorching you, “Well thank you for a lovely service today Father, Bev…always a pleasure.” You said to both, but only made it several steps before Father Paul called after you.

“You’re always welcome here.” He said you name so gently. You noticed too that his tone was almost pleading…perhaps encouraging. Did he think you would stop your routine one day?

“I appreciate that Father Hill!” You smiled and waved as you turned to continue on your way; Paul’s lingering stare and Bevs look of distain following you as you went.

Your ear ached as a pull in you almost forced you to turn around and look back at St. Patrick’s again…but you didn’t. Somehow you felt it was in poor taste to do so. You had been startled by being watched once, and you were certain your nerves would not benefit from it again.

Instead, you hurried along, and made it down to the bakery quickly. You waved at a few locals who entered the general store and unlocked your door to grab your deliveries for that day. You always felt a pang of sadness when you looked at your list of houses and saw old customers crossed off; having passed or moved, but you supposed you ought to feel joyous for those who remained.

One by one you completed your deliveries. There were only 15 houses to visit, give or take a few from day to day. You treasured those houses.

You peddled up to one of the houses you frequented, and grabbed the order you needed. You almost bounced up the steps and knocked. It didn’t take long before the door was opening after the voice inside called that they were coming.

You were then met with a familiar face.

“Good to see you. Morning going alright?” Sarah Gunning was always a little direct, but kind. You supposed a good doctor ought to be both.

You nodded as you handed her the two loaves of bread and bundle of fruit cakes. “Not too bad…was a little shaken by the…uh…the cats this morning but nothing a sunny day like today can’t fix!” You assured her. “How’s your mother?”

Sarah nodded, “I heard…smelled it too. She’s alright, thank you y/n.” She took the package from you and gave you a tight smile.

“Good…see you soon.” You chirped, and began backing down the steps.

You turned around and strode out the front yard, but sighed when you noticed one of the straps that kept your goods in place at the back of your bike was loose. You knelt down and retied it. You supposed everything on this island was falling apart just a little.

When you straightened, however, you gasped and nearly toppled over. “F-Father Hill! I’m so sorry-“

The man stepped back a little.

“Im sorry I didn’t mean to sneak up on you.” He put his hand up to show he meant no harm, face apologetic.

“No…no that was on me, I’ve been a little in my head lately.” You said, having a hard time meeting his gaze.

“We all can be a little distracted.” He said. A slightly awkward silence fell between you, but it was he who broke it. “You know the Gunnings well?” He asked, and nodded to the house behind you.

You followed his gaze and nodded, “Not terribly, but I remember seeing Mrs. Gunning in church when I was a kid…I just deliver to them now. Mrs.Gunning’s health hasn’t been the best for years and her daughter Sarah cares for her…I just try to help out where I can.” You smiled.

There was something nagging at you though. Something odd. Of course you hadn’t fully realized that this stranger already knew who lived there; you were so used to everyone knowing everyone.

You did notice how the man before you shifted when you mentioned Sarah’s mother. He seemed almost a little more compelled to listen.

“That- that’s kind of you.” He stumbled a little over his words, “Giving to those in need that’s very selfless…a trait that can be hard to come by though we all possess it.” Father Hill forced a smile that crinkled the sides of his eyes.

“We all have traits in us that we can chose to embrace or not. Good and bad, Father.”

His smile turned a little more genuine then. “Ah yes, the never ending duality of man.”

“ “Everyone who does evil hates the light, and will not come into the light for fear that their deeds will be exposed.” John 3:20.” You quoted a little absentmindedly as you saw Beverly pass by on the main road. The distraction kept you from seeing how the man towering over you had his eyes go wide, and looked away for a moment.

You both stood there for a moment, then you ducked your head a little and pulled your bike towards yourself. “Well Father, I’ll leave you to it.”

Father Hill nodded, and pursed his lips ever so slightly, “Good to see you…”

You slowly walked past him and back to the road, but stopped when he muttered something that you wondered if he meant for you to hear.

“Thank you.” He said.

You looked back at him, brows pitched in confusion.

“For…taking- taking care of everyone.” He ended his sentence a little weakly, and you tilted your head a little to the side. An odd man.

“It’s my pleasure.” You decided on. It seemed to be what Father Hill wanted or needed to hear, and you both parted ways.

You paused at Main Street, and turned to look up at the Father as he ascended the stairs to the Gunning house. This time, it was his turn to glance back at you as you watched him. You waved and smiled, and didn’t wait for his response before you were pedalling away.

John had been standing just out of view of Sarah when he had said goodbye to Leeza, and saw you knock on Mildred’s front door. He stayed there, enjoying how much life you held inside you. Youthful and magnetic. Of course the ease in staring at you had nothing to do with the fact that your dress swayed around your legs and picked up so slightly in the wind.

He watched how startled you were by him when he approached you…so cautious yet so trusting. A lamb weary of wolves just looking for her Shepard.

I will be your Shepard sweet lamb…let me. Bend for me…for God.

Then that quote…oh you were no mere lost soul. No you were thoughtful. John felt excitement fill him at the thought of how you would benefit from his gift. He would be lying if he said you saying his true name didn’t startle him. A coincidence, of course.

Then when he turned back and saw you already watching him. Then that peak of your thigh when you hopped onto your bike…John was…

John was distracted.

An ideal lamb to guide yet so concerning. Not a blind lamb…no you were good. You were caring, and strong. Hopeful…hopeful like a man overboard who knew he had to weather swell after swell of water but kept treading water because he knew he was strong enough despite his muscles wanting to give out.

Instead of staying afloat like that man, John lost his breath.

Then he gasped in the salty sea water and breathed you in. Gulped you down his throat like a greedy boy to nourish his body and fill his lungs.

The next morning was thankfully an uneventful one.

Hassan and Wade had managed to get the dead cats cleaned up by the evening of the day before, and you weren’t sure when the last time was that you were so happy to have nothing happen.

Until that evening.

You were fairly proud of your abilities to make delicious confectioneries for Crockett island, and as you stared down your journal of recipes that sat in your lap, you pondered which to chose for the approaching Crock-potluck. You knew there would be a great deal of food already there, but you also knew that something freshly made for desert changed an atmosphere fast.

You were just looking through your various cookie and sweet bread recipes when a knock on your door made you jump. It was rare that you had visitors, especially at this hour. Certainly Erin had come by numerous times for slow walks around the island in the evening from time to time, and then Annie sometimes ran down to your house if she needed an ingredient…but somehow you felt that the person knocking was neither.

It was soft and timid.

You uncurled yourself from your nest of blankets on the couch, and strode to your door, then opened it with a pleasant smile on your face. It faltered only a little once you saw who was standing there.

“I- I uh…I’m sorry for this intrusion so late but I have a favour to ask of you if I may.” Came that low rumble of the man’s voice as he stood in the dim light of your porch.

You blinked, “What can I do for you Father?”

Father Hill shifted a little- an awkward smile on his face as he looked to the side as he stalled.

“This is my first uh- Crockett Po- crock-“ he stumbled a little and you smiled.

“Crock-potluck.” You corrected him.

He laughed a little, “Yes. And I wanted to have something to bring. Something my mother ingrained in me as a boy and well I was hoping if…if you could lend a helping hand so to speak.”

You bit at your cheek to keep from smiling too wide at his request. Here was this man likely twice your age, taller than most trees, fumbling with his words when he preached for a living. He was endearing.

“Well Father…it is getting late.” You started, and his face instantly turned to that of a kicked puppy.

His eyes softened, and the corners of his mouth tugged down so slightly.

“Oh- of- of course how silly-“

“-and I was going to make something for the potluck anyways…so having an extra pair of hands would be a godsend.” You finished.

John chuckled and stared you in the eye when your nose scrunched up so slightly at your tease.

Funny girl.

“Come in, please…make yourself at home.” You ushered him in. You were thankful that Bev didn’t live near you lest she see her dear Father Hill enter the home of a young woman alone.

Of course, John knew that you were indeed preparing to make something. Just like most islanders, you kept your drapes open even at night, and while he had just meant to take an evening stroll and check in on you- his dear lamb- John had found himself standing just outside your window watching you for well past a half hour. You flicked through that book of yours that John remembered seeing on your counter just two days ago when you had tested a recipe from it. You hadn’t seen him that night either. So domestic and sweet in your own space…

It was only when he snapped out of his trance-like state that he felt a little perverse in his current situation and told himself that he must have a reason for being there so long.

Thus the need to make something for the potluck.

John Pruitt had never made something for the potluck.

But he would not just leave your house that night after watching you through your window.

No. No he had a purpose for being there.

Of course he did. Why else would God have guided him there on his walk?

It wasn’t as if he was subconsciously drawn to your little home.

A moth to a flame.

You watched the older man remove his boots, and unzip his grey hoodie, and remove it to fold it neatly onto your couch. He looked so domestic and human.

“We’re going to make a cult classic, Father…I hope that’s alright. Safer for large numbers.” You explained as you flipped to your browned butter chocolate chip recipe. You slowly walked into your kitchen as you reviewed what you needed, and Father Hill trailed after you.

“This might take a couple hour- oh!” You started to say, but jumped when you turned around and bumped right into his chest.

He chuckled, “I think I might need a bell on me…I’m afraid I have a talent for startling people lately.”

You waved it off, “It’s just me…I’m just- I…” you sighed and looked up at the man as he waited patiently for your explanation, “Can I…can I be completely honest with you, Father Hill?” You asked a little timidly.

He nodded- open and calm, “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

You sucked in a breath, “You’re…well you’re a new presence here on the island…a welcomed one! But because you’re new…you startle a lot of us because we’re simply not…used to you. We’ll get there but in the time being…I think that’s why. I’m- we…we’re glad you’re here.” You stumbled and then when he smiled softly at you you suddenly worried that you had offended him, “I’m…I’m sorry I don’t think that came out right…”

“No no please…it makes perfect sense given how isolated the island is…I take no offence.” He said good-naturedly and waved his hand.

You sighed, and looked down, “Alright well…let’s get started. You might want to roll your sleeves up though it can get messy, Father.” You perked up as you changed the subject, and began to walk to your counter where you had already taken out a mixing bowl and, whisk and measuring cup.

“I am at your disposal, young lady.” Father Paul came to brace himself against the counter edge beside you, looking down at you thoughtfully.

You felt a blush rise to your cheeks, but kept your head down enough for him to not see, “Can you get me the butter from the fridge? Should be on the door.” You asked, and pulled out a small saucepan.

He nodded, and retrieved the butter for you. As he looked for it, you glanced over at him, and found your eyes drawn to his exposed forearms from him rolling up his sleeves. You looked away almost instantly, embarrassed for having been looking at your priest like that.

“You know this is the first time I’ve done this. Gotta admit it’s a bit exciting.” He said as he popped the butter beside you on the counter proudly.

“Baking is always fun…especially when things turn out yummy.” You smiled and put two large cups of butter in the heated pan. It started to sizzle. “We brown the butter to give the cookies a sort of nutty flavour…makes it a little tastier even if they’re just chocolate chip cookies.” You explained. He watched over your shoulder, enrapt.

“Did you always want to do this?” He asked you.

You blinked, “The- the cookies-?”

“No.” He laughed, “No, being a baker.”

“Oh. Well…not exactly. I grew up here and when you grow up in Crockett you have a lot of time to think…sometimes too much. I guess I knew I would end up doing something here and when I got older I got into baking and in my spare time I got really good at it…took years but before I knew it I was graduating and had a pretty fortuitous hobby. It was actually Dr. Gunning who suggested it.”

“Sarah?” Came his voice behind you.

“Yeah, Sarah was in the general store when I was there to get some milk and we got to talking…I had made her mom a few loaves of bread that she used to like and Sarah said I should make something out of my skill. And here I am!” You laughed, and stirred the butter as it browned and thinned.

“Wonderful…” he said softly.

You nodded, “She’s a nice lady. You’ll get used to her- just a little direct. Think it comes with being a doctor.” There was a moment of silence between you; only filled with the bubbling of the butter, “Alright, can you go into the freezer and pull out the flour, and measure out 3 cups of it into the bowl there?” You asked the man behind you.

“I certainly can.” He confirmed.

“Oh! Can you get 4 eggs as well?” You asked quickly.

He hummed and looked through your fridge for what he needed, and placed everything by the bowl. The counter was so much lower for him that he almost had to hunker over with his height to work.

He looked so…normal. It was sweet. A little odd to see your pastor baking with you but it was nice. Somehow it made him feel more human than just a man who absolved your sins and blessed you every morning.

The two of you worked together, and you came to find that Father Hill was eager to learn. He was methodical and took his time to do things right. Listened. Before you knew it there was a massive bowl of cookie dough on the counter and your oven was full of baking sheets.

“Each sheet should only take about 15 minutes so this shouldn’t take more than another hour.” You said, “If- if you need to take off I can finish-“

“A good man does not abandon his task, not to worry.” His tone was stern but he was smiling. You returned it.

“Well…” you breathed as you looked around for something to do, “I can put some music on if you like? You’re welcome to look around.”

He nodded, and you went to find something to listen to, “This used to be my family’s house. I’m afraid I only have their old records…Hope that’s okay?”

“More than.” He called out to you as you went into the living room.

You flipped through a few envelopes, and settled on one from Jeff Buckley. It was mostly slow, and you could still talk if you wanted to. You set it up, and as the needle sat atop the vinyl, a calm song began.

“Who’s this little ray of sunshine?”

You turned and followed Father Paul’s voice. He was standing in front of a few picture frames hung on the wall that you kept from when your family lived there.

“That was me.” You laughed, “That was right before Easter I think…I was 5.” You said thoughtfully.

“You looked happy.” He smiled.

I was. You thought.

“I loved Easter. Mostly for the chocolate…” you both chuckled a little, “But…now it’s just the time of year that I like. Spring. Revival…blossoming of plants, birds chirping…everything just seems so much more alive. The world starts to hum with God’s greatness during Easter, I think.” You thought aloud, then looked up at Father Hill once you ended your musings.

He was already watching you; hanging onto every word.

He remembered how much you enjoyed Easter. “One more chocolate, Monsignor? Pleeease?” He could still hear that little voice.

“What do you think, Father?” You asked him.

“I have to agree.” He hummed. You noticed that his eyes were almost glassy-that same teary look you had noticed when you first met him. Like he may weep.

“I think Monsignor Pruitt was partial t-

DING!

You both jumped apart and looked behind you at the sound of your timer sounding.

Had it been 15 minutes already?

You both returned to the kitchen and you began removing the sheets of golden treats. “If you can put them on the cooling rack while I take them out that’ll help a lot, Father.” You smiled.

“They turned out so nicely.” He mused as he followed your orders, “I supposed I shouldn’t have expected anything less from you.”

You laughed a little, “It’s just trial and error until you figure out your best method.”

Modest girl.

John grinned at you from the corner of his eye while you placed the last hot sheet on the counter.

The two of you continued the routine until the last round was in the oven, and you were starting to feel more at ease with the man. Almost playful. He certainly was a young priest, and every bit a red blooded man; his humour was dry, and he smiled easily. His laugh was infectious, though you could tell he didn’t do it often. You supposed the church wasn’t exactly a place rich with humour.

The record had nearly finished after almost an hour of listening, and the two of you were leaning against the kitchen counter listening. You swayed gently to the music, but then perked up when a favourite of yours began to play.

“I love this song…” you muttered under your breath and turned your head in the direction of the living room.

John looked down at you in recognition of what you had said, but in the low light of your kitchen, and the softness in your face, he couldn’t help but be reminded of being young. Not just himself but the island. Back when the people who were not partners used to be children he had baptized. Back when there were dances in the old town hall that had since burned down decades ago.

You reminded him of…a better time.

An easier time.

You were so occupied in your little bubble, that it took you a moment to notice Father Paul coming in front of you with his hands out.

You looked down at his palms, then up at him, and he waited patiently. You slowly placed your hands in his, and he pulled you away from the counter and began to sway with you. So gentle, then he tentatively brought your hand up to his shoulder and he brought his other hand to your waist; guiding you through a little dance.

Neither of you said a word.

Not there was anything to say really.

Somehow the two of you just felt very…human.

Your neck hurt from looking up at his dark eyes, but you didn’t stop. He watched you just as closely as you moved slowly through the room in small circles.

“…You know I used to be alone before I knew you…and I’ve seen your flag on the marble arch, and love is not some victory march. It’s a cold and it’s a broken Hallelujah…”

The smell of baked cookies surrounded you, and you almost laughed at the absurdity of it all.

But in that moment, it didn’t feel absurd.

It felt like two kindred souls enjoying some shared time. Any obligations or expectations melted away as you felt the warmth from his hands meld into your tendons and heat your sinew. His fingers holding yours felt more akin to a cradle and his breath between you was like smelling your childhood.

Your heart ached.

Perhaps it was that no one had held you in years. Let alone danced with you.

Hugs and pats on the back were about the extent.

“…and it’s not a cry that you hear at night, it’s not someone whose seen the light, it’s a cold and it’s a broken Hallelujah…”

The two of you slowed until you came to a standstill in the kitchen, simply standing less than a foot from eachother. When the timer dinged this time, neither of you jumped away. The sound certainly brought you down to Earth, but somehow you only found yourself staring up at the man. You weren’t altogether confused, though you were curious and a little nervous.

Why had he done that?

Why did you do that?

You had felt so comfortable…like this was an old friend of yours who you had just seen again after years apart.

John gazed down at you…his mind rich with turmoil and deep contemplation. When he had taken your hands in his, it had been as if God had moved through him.

Compelling.

Like God had told him to embrace the good of the past, and remember what he was working towards. To restore exactly that.

After a few breaths, Father Hill released your hand, and you both quietly walked to the oven.

The last batch now sat on the cooling racks, and you sighed.

“I’ll pack these up and bring them by the rectory before service tomorrow, Father.” You broke the silence.

Father hill nodded, “Thank you my girl.” He said softly.

You nodded and looked down at your hands, “Thank you for your company.” Then looked back up at the man before you.

He tilted his head to you as if to tell you that you were welcome or that it was his pleasure.

He slowly unrolled his sleeves, and you picked his sweater up for him from the living room.

You almost felt bad to watch him go. It might have been nice to talk to him for a few hours more.

He finished tying his boots and graciously took the sweater from you, and slipped it on over his collared shirt.

“Goodnight, y/n.” He murmured as he opened your door.

“Goodnight, Father.” You whispered back.

He stayed a moment longer, and smiled gently at you, then he was gone.

You stood in your doorway, watching him go, and as he left your sight, you found yourself returning to your senses. A wave of embarrassment chilled you when you realised what you had just done. Yet somehow you didn’t feel entirely guilty. It had felt as if some kind of blanket had enveloped the two of you just like when he conversed with his flock after mass- a bubble around you.

You packed the treats away after cooling, and silently went to sleep. You didn’t let yourself dwell.

-

“It’s great to see so many of you here today. But I do have to ask, why not every Sunday? Christmas, Easter, I get that. But there’s also always an uptick around the start of Lent. Why is that? What’s so special about today? Ash Wednesday, beginning of Lent. It’s hardly a crowd-pleaser.The beginning of repentance, making amends for our sins. Sin. This darkness, this blackness that spilled into us. That darkness, we wear it on our forehead today. Just a smudge of it. Uh…A smudge of death, of ash, of sin for repentance. Because of where this is all actually heading, which is Easter. Rebirth, resurrection, eternal life. Life that rises again…” Father Paul stood before you at the pulpit, presence commanding as ever.

“Even out of blackness, love rises again. Even out of sin. And this island, it will rise again. Even out of disaster, rebirth, restoration, eternal life. Jesus sees you. Sees you, best of all, and he sees you true. Because, don’t forget, who did he seek out? Who did he turn to, to build his church?His apostles. Jesus’ first disciples, they were fishermen. One of his first miracles, right? The nets are empty, fishermen desperate. Jesus says, “Put out into deep water and let down your nets for a catch,” and when they pulled up those nets, a bounty of fish.” You could practically feel the worshipers buzz around you as their heart rates picked up, just like yours.

“He sees you. Oh, yes, he sees you, brothers and sisters, and he will resurrect this island, and he will again fill your nets. It’s great you’re here today, but please keep coming back. Those doors, they’re always open, as the gates are always open. You just bring yourself. God will do the rest. As Psalm 60 tells us, “God, You have rejected us, You have broken us down, You have been angry. Restore us again.” Do you know what psalms are? They’re songs.The word psalm from the Greek psalmoi. It means “music.” Songs of prayer. Songs of praise. That’s who we are. That’s who we must be. That’s what it means to have faith, that in the darkness, in the worst of it, in the absence of light and hope, we sing. “Restore us,” we sing to the sky. And He will, my friends. He will. That same hand that dealt you your hardship, that same hand will make you whole.”

A single tear fell from your eye. God works in mysterious ways, and you could almost feel God working through Father Hill that day. As if God truly was trying to tell you that he was there with you. And Father Hill spoke as if he knew something good was to come- as if God had shown him.

And you believed him.

As you stood, you could hear Annie trying to urge her son to accept the cross of ash, and you gave her a small reassuring smile when she filed in behind you.

“Y/n remember you are dust, and to dust you shall return.” The preacher murmured to you. Your face was bright that day, happy. John suppressed a smile.

“Amen.” You said quietly, flicking your eyes up to his. He stared down at you steadily, calm as ever.

“Bless you my child.” His was was low and serene.

It was a peaceful stroll down to potluck. You watched as birds started to flit in the trees and chirp; bees starting to buzz, the gentle sound of the shore. Rebirth.

You checked behind you every so often as you walked in case you saw Father Hill; you had brought the cookies to the rectory that morning before service, and when you had offered to help carry the three large containers after, the Father had declined.

You had insisted.

But he insisted harder.

It was wonderful to see the islanders enjoy the little festival. Sharing with each other and laughing. It didn’t happen often. It was as if everyone pushed off their exhaustion just to enjoy that day. Problems could wait until the next day.

You made your way through the locals that you knew well, and stopped a little longer with some. Annie stood with Ed, and you noticed them smiling; perhaps it might seem like a strange thing to notice, but you knew all about Ed’s troubled back, and how their marriage was a little exhausted…it made your heart glow a little to see them happy. Most everyone seemed happier if you were honest, and it wasn’t just that day.

Your legs began to ache after a half hour, and you took to the edge of the festival to sit. You liked this. Watching everyone around you.

“Mind if I join you?” You looked up to see Father Hill walking over to you, a cup of juice in hand.

“Please do.” You scooted over to give him a little more room.

He sat with a soft grunt.

“You did your hair different.”

You turned to him. And your lips parted in surprise, “Wha-“

“I’m sorry- I noticed during communion. Just came to mind.” He said a little awkwardly though no less sweet.

Your mouth fell open a little, “I did. First day of lent…I like to do a little extra for it.” You rambled.

John smiled at you.

You looked pretty.

Not that he could say that.

But you did.

“The crockpot luck…I hear it’s a yearly staple for the island.” Father Hill said to you as you both looked out over the festival.

You nodded, “Sure is…”

John turned to you then; your tone was a little more reserved. Like you weren’t saying all you wished to.

“You’re not a fan of it?” He asked curiously.

You thought for a moment. “Can I be-“

“Honest?” He cut you off. Echoing your words from the night before.

You smiled, “Yes.”

“Please do.”

“I-… Lent is supposed to be a time of fasting and repentance and prayer…I just…it seems strange to have a festival on Ash Wednesday.” You said quietly.

He nodded, “Perhaps a little unorthodox.”

“I think I’ve always found it just…a little odd. Our Monsignor was the one who came up with it, you know? Coined the name. I just…I can’t help but wonder if his theology was a little…uh…off.” You mused, looking down at your hands.

Father Hill regarded you for a moment, and nodded, but didn’t say anything.

“I know you didn’t know him…he was a nice man…but…he was- is just a man. Man has his faults.” You shrugged, then turned to the man beside you, “No offence, Father.”

He chuckled and sipped at his cup, “None taken. I appreciate your candour.”

You pursed your lips.

You weren’t usually so unguarded.

You shouldn’t have said that.

Why did you say that?

This was the second time you had inadvertently said something to insult him within 24 hours. You felt shame start to rise in the back of your throat.

“I don’t want you to worry about offending me, y/n. I’m a friend and an ear to listen…if ever you want to talk.” He said, staring out at the sea of people, then back at you.

You sighed and nodded, “Thank you, Father. You’re very kind.”

He smiled.

Then you remembered something, “Father?”

“Hm?”

You shifted a little awkwardly, “I want to first thank you for maintaining my uh…specialized sacrament, but I just wanted to ask- have you changed the juice?” You asked him.

He thought for a moment, “I don’t believe so. We just got a new shipment…I can check if it’s any different…why?”

“It…it’s just…it tastes very strange. Almost metallic. I don’t know how else to describe it.” You thought back to how the taste stayed in your mouth after only a sip.

John shifted in his seat. You knew. He would have to find another way of give you the gift.

“I’ll find another one to give you. Not to worry.” He said, and patted your hand.

“Thank you, Father.” You chose not to dwell on him touching you.

“Well, I should return to my flock…trying to get to know everyone.” He said, then pushed himself up off the bench.

You nodded. You knew he was only temporary, but it was kind of him to try and get to know the members of the community while he was there.

He was charming and approachable, it wouldn’t be hard for him.

“Of course, enjoy!” You called after him. He waved back at you, and you scrunched your face up as the sun hit your eyes.

You sighed to yourself and after an hour, you began to make another round of the park. The town had truly lucked out with such a beautiful day for such a special day. After such a nasty storm just a few days ago, it was surprising.

You watched at the sun started to lower in the sky. Things were starting to wind down, and some had began to return home-

“Pike!”

You whipped your head around in the direction of the scream. On the other end of the park, you could see a crowd forming. You knew Pike was Joe Collie’s dog, and by the sounds of it, there was nothing good happening. You knew he was old, and loud, but he wouldn’t hurt a fly. You hoped he hadn’t bitten someone.

You crossed the field in just a couple minutes, and when you came to stand in the crowd, you felt yourself grow lightheaded. Pike was laying in a puddle of foamy bile and blood- the light leaving his eyes. You could hear Joe accusing Bev, and saw Sarah knelt over the dog…it was horrible.

“Alright everyone…back up.” Hassan waved his arms to try and disperse the crowd. Everyone began to walk away, and you could feel a solemnness come over the islanders. Like somehow they had all been snapped out of a trance and remembered their troubles.

You pursed your lips, but ultimately backed up as well. You wanted to help, but you knew there was virtually nothing to do. Pike was dead.

You kept to yourself for another hour, the as the afternoon dragged on, you started to collect the now-empty containers that had once held the cookies.

“Thanks for that, y/n.”

You looked over at Wade who was taking one last helping of…something brownish. A casserole of some kind.

You smiled, “Oh it was no problem. It was actually a group effort between the Father and I!”

His brows shot up, “Really?”

“Yeah he wanted to bring something. Wasn’t that nice of him?” You picked the empty containers up.

“Yeah…he- he seems like a real nice fella.” He mused, moustache twitching.

You nodded, “This was great, Mr. Mayor. See you Friday?”

He chuckled- you knew he was just fine with Wade, but you also knew he liked when people used his title- made him feel important. And you did your best to remind each person of their importance when you could.

“See you Friday, sweetheart.” He conceded.

You waved him off, then began your way back home.

John stood on the edge of the park watching you go. He had initially taken the spot to gaze at Sarah, but his gaze had been drawn when you were speaking with the mayor.

They really did love you.

And he understood why.

He watched you disappear down the road, dress fluttering in the wind.

•••••••••••••••••••

@littleredwritingcat @zaunite-leo @f4er1e-g1rl @purplemotif @vampyre-kin @professional-sinner @hamishlinklaters @spacechupss @pansexualpamandabear @ebiemidnightlibrarian

[szynkaaa]

Hi, I just read your story on AO3 and I loved it a lot but it also left me with a lot of questions about Oz and his relationship with Sun Wukong, especially the part where you mentioned that Oz after recovering the relics couldn't return to his world but at the end it gives the impression that she is no longer with him and at the beginning you also mentioned that this isn't a fanfic as such but like a diary or letters that she left him and that's eating my head in a good way that I need answers 😆😆😆😆 By the way, I know this is a bit long but I really love your content, your art, and your writing 😆☺️😊🥰

would you believe me if I said I came up with the idea to add those paragraphs at the end of each stories to make it sound like they are not together anymore literally as I was uploading my fic to AO3 LMFAO

ok ok, since I'm not an eloquent writer and will enver write a fully fledged fic, I will just spoil the ending of my non-existing story.

Basically after Black Myth Wukong story line, Oz did not manage to go home like she thought she would after helping DO. I've also mentioned that her ancestor were part of the Celestial Court but got fucked over by the court, so "book 2" of my AU would be SWK and Oz dealing with the Celestial Court, trying to figure out what what the fuck happened.

Everyone is like trying to use Oz as a scapegoat for the shit her ancestors did. She's just like, I wanna live my life and idc what my ancestors did that was like over 1000 years go for me. but 1000 year in celestial court is like 83 years ago in celestial heaven time, so like not thaaaat long ago for them. WW2 is for us like 80 years ago. it's a long time ago but also not really. people who lived through the war are still alive. So anyway, court wants her to serve them again like her ancestor did, or die I guess. reason is tied to some power that flows in Oz because of her ancestor, which I do plan to explain in another post at some point.

something something happens, where either Oz has no choice but to return to her homeworld, oooor someone from the Celestial Court forcibly sends her back. If you watched Barbie the nutcracker, the same shit the rat king pulled on Clara. Or maybe even SWK pushed her through a portal to send her to safety.

also in my AU, time flows differently between the Oz's world and SWK world. A day can pass in her world, and it could be few weeks or months or even years in SWK world.

ALSO important thing is SWK at some point gives Oz a ring made from the birthstone, like he found rock pieces and asked Yin Tiger to make him a ring ("I'm not that kind of smith, monkey"). Traditional Chinese Wedding does not include an engagement ring, but SWK was there when Oz was explaining to monkey kids how wedding traditione worked in her world, and he loves her so he made the ring, gave it to her when confessing to her.

She still has the ring when she went back to her world, and there it's like not much time has passed, maybe a week at most. She still made it to her Taylor Swift concert.

Time pass, maybe like three years or so. She never stopped thinking about SWK, and tried to find way to get back but couldn't. maybe the portal got severed idk. and then something something happens (which I will need to think about), where one day the ring on her finger felt warm and she was able to return to Mount Huaguo, landing where the birthstone stood on the mountain.

I think like 100 years passed in that world, where SWK never stopped visiting the birthstone place, where Oz also went back to her world.

Here is a comic I made of their sweet sweet reunion:

She's wearing a fancy red dress because she was attending some fancy event before she was able to return to SWK. But also traditionally the bride and groom wore red in a Chinese wedding, so her wearing the red dress when she is reunited with SWK after all those years is a symbol for that they are finally able to be together and live their happily ever after. it's also symbolism for Oz.

Before that, depsite SWK confession and basically proposal, she has a bit of commitment / abandoment issues from her parents divorce, so yknow they didn't get married before that. but it is very clear to anyone that they both loved each other.

so yeah. Sorry for the long post LOL i get super excited talking about my problem children. there is angst and implication that Oz will be gone but ultimately it ends on a happy note.

[nadiajustbe]

When it comes to HMC trilogy, I take almost no criticism, as it just a wonderful written-story with alive and relatable characters. However, If I had to name a part I'd found reasonable to criticise and may critises myself, I'd say it's Lettie Hatter's arc.

Not because it was entirely bad, but because it could be so much better If it wasn't written in the 80s and had a different mindset attached to it. And because the way it starts and the way it progress has little to no connection to how it ends.

Because the whole thing of the Hatter sisters, all of them, was breaking social norms and expectations.

Sophie firmly believed that she would stay in the Hatter Shop for the rest of her life with the most boring existence possible — and yet she married the most chaotic, whiny and slither-outing wizard in all of Ingary, with whom everyday is a full-blown fantasy adventure.

Martha, as the youngest, was expected to have the above mentioned fantasy adventures, be a mighty witch, even a hero, maybe — but she decided to chose a happy, steady basic life with a husband and ten kids, and she didn't want to listen to anyone who said otherwise.

Lettie's arc, just as the whole stories of her sisters, were tied on what people wanted from her. She was the most beautiful out of all girls, If we believe Sophie's words, and people almost wished she would marry and find a life spouse, as she had one million proposals a day even before switching with Martha. But that wasn't what she wanted — I'm sure she would reject all of them as often as her sister did, because she wasn't a big fan of it, just as working in the bakery. Lettie wanted to be a witch, and she practically became one, switching with Martha, working with ms. Fairfax.

But while Sophie's arc of expecting to be plane and ordinary ended on being gifted and adventurous, Martha's arc of avoiding busy life ended on finding a person she loves and planning to build a big family, Lettie's arc of searching for greatest achievement and avoiding marriages ended on...a marriage.

A marriage that, as stated by herself — "Ben doesn't like people to know I'm a witch" — kinda disregards her initial want to show that she has intelligence outside of her beauty, the one that he can show and that she can use.

(This line has absolutely no context whatsoever and we can only guess why Ben wants so, because it's actually so out of his character, even all the bits that were described before. But nope, no context, no explanations. It may be because she was pregnant at the time, but, again nothing like this was ever said and it's a pretty lame excuse anyway. Magical mirrors in their house also do not obey Lettie, at all)

And, as much as I absolutely love Ben and as much as I absolutely love Lettie, I don't think pairing them was a good choice. Mostly because Lettie was seventeen (one year younger than Sophie) in the end of HMC when their "pairing" started, and Ben is described to be noticeably older that Howl in CITA, which brings us to the conclusion he's at least in his thirties. And that's...a bit uncomfortable of an age gap, especially If we take into the account they canonically had a kid about a year later. And also Ben was supposed to be her mentor.

...And If he stayed her mentor and nothing more, it would be actually great. Because I believe Lettie deserves the same development her sister had, to get was she initially wanted and what she was fighting for. To be an apprentice of the Royal Wizard, to be a powerful a well-known witch, to show the world who told her that she has to marry to succeed in life that she in fact, doesn't, to show all this guys that tried to propose to her that she didn't need them, at all. But definitely not a wife, or a mother.

Not because being a mother or/and a wife is a bad character development. It worked perfectly with Sophie, because it represents her chaotic happily ever after better than anything else, it worked with Martha because she wanted to had ten kids and marry. It's just not for Lettie's character in particular precisely because everything in her concept of "beatiful middle sister" showed that was she's supposed to be.

Because Mrs. Pentstemmon said Lettie awaits a great, good fate, that she'll be as powerful as the Witch of the Waste — and I want to see it. Because I didn't.

[softpine]

rambling about my brainstorming process for frozen pines in novel form, thought maybe someone would be interested in hearing it too :)

i considered having finn be the same age as caroline and co. so that the adults would have a more solid connection to finn's side of the plot later, but that never would have worked because if finn had met them while he was alive he would have gotten along with them like a house on fire... he never would've been lonely enough for the story to work. beth would take him under her wing because you know she loves a violent little spitfire, caroline would murder his parents (okay maybe not but she would definitely help him run away), and finn would start a shitty garage band with danny. the end.

so instead i decided that caroline, beth, and danny would be 5-6 years older than finn, so they were never attending the same school at the same time, but they were close enough in age that they felt the societal effects after his murder. i need asa's story to take place during the early 2000s because smart phones solve too many issues too quickly and i'm sick of it. anyway, the way it works out is that asa is born right after finn dies. so there's a bit of extra cosmic weirdness happening there. that means asa is born in the mid-80s so it makes sense why he and his family are treated so badly by the rest of the town, because like his mom was a biracial pregnant teenager whose boyfriend left her and shacked up with a woman... for simplicity's sake i'm having danny live in LA, so from the outside looking in, it seems like he's not involved in asa's life. danny is not very successful in his career in this iteration so he doesn't have the money to keep traveling back and forth like he does in frozen pines.

also, i'm majorly simplifying the camellia family situation (sadly isa is going to have to be a man because we simply can't have a lesbian couple in the 60s having a baby from IVF...) but stevie is still asa's cousin and she's still trans but this is 2001 so it takes many more years to get there and the journey is just different. i'm still trying to decide if i want asa to be the only POV character (aside from the prologue which is finn, but that's the only time we're getting finn's POV) so things will change depending on whether we're seeing her solely from asa's point of view or not. i'm still very early stages so idk yet. but either way, at the start of the book when they're all 17, she's still going by jett and using he/him etc. i keep messing up and writing stevie and i don't notice for multiple paragraphs 😭 it feels bad but i think it will be worth it because her side of the story will feel more poignant with a slow burn

basically i'm trying to make this as realistic as possible while still not having the queer characters be miserable all the time, but also not having their only plot motivation be 'being queer' because even though i obviously am appreciative of how far we've come with media, i hate how so much queer media boils down to being good representation these days. i find it so boring and limiting and also impossible to achieve that standard because everyone has a different idea of "good" representation.

anyway, it helps that caroline & beth are serving as a beacon of acceptance for the other queer characters - like, of course asa is more likely to come out as gay at a younger age when he knows his parents will accept him, and of course stevie is going to be more likely to find out that transitioning is even an option when she has already has a built in support system (especially because cara & beth lived in big cities where the scene is totally different and they can share that knowledge with her). so there are still going to be feel-good moments, just not in the same unrealistic, wish-fulfillment way that i used to write frozen pines. not that i have any regrets; i needed to see a more accepting world and i had a lot of fun sharing it with you all.

oh, also i scrapped the idea of them living in a small coastal town because stephen king has thoroughly cornered that market lmao and the only reason i wanted to do that anyway was because i loved brindleton bay so much. but now i get to choose whatever i want so i'm sticking with what i know and they're going to live in the midwest. so i can still get some of those small town corn field no grocery store for miles kind of vibes while also being conveniently close to a medium size city.

if anyone remembers me saying i might have to merge elaine and jada into one character to make them both more relevant... i've decided not to do that. but the only way i can make this work is by giving elaine a special ability too, so she's got alisa's power and alisa is no more. i thought about making stevie be the only one without an ability so we could get the "normal outsider" perspective, but ultimately i decided she needs to have one too or the group feels too disconnected. SOOO what we're working with now is: asa can see ghosts, jada can see deaths before they happen, elaine can see thoughts/memories of whoever she touches, and stevie can see the past but only in her dreams. i like that they're all sight-based and related to memories (ghosts are just another type of memory if you think about it). it puts in contrast finn's complete inability to see his own past. plus it gives the friends a reason to stick together and an explanation for their abilities -- they all appeared at the same time, when they witnessed aileen's death.

now that i'm writing this all out, i'm feeling like i need to have rotating POVs..... i just don't think i can accomplish all of this backstory and still have it feel meaningful without getting it from all sides. hm.

[flesh-robot]

Strawhat favorite music headcanons

posted this to Reddit yesterday and felt it would also fit here

Robin

Very eclectic taste, loves music with interesting/unique instrumentation and songs which have a story. Likes a lot of more obscure music but has plenty of more well known artists she likes

Nami

Tends to lean towards more female-led bands. Doesn’t listen to a lot of modern stuff; prefers more pop from the 70’s-80’s.

Sanji

Enjoys vocally-centered ballad type music, particularly female vocalists, not just because of the obvious but also because he just enjoys feminine vocals. You just know he would listen to mommy asmr.

Franky

Really into classic rock. Picked up a lot of his music taste from Tom. Music theory is a big interest of his, so he really appreciates well-layered instrumentation, especially guitar and drums.

Brook

Wasn’t in touch with modern music for a very long time, so he still has a preference for older music; specifically things from when he was alive. He does enjoy plenty of modern music, but he still leans towards oldies.

Usopp

Likes alternative and indie rock, especially 90’s and 2000’s. He likes a lot of stuff that he feels like he can relate to, especially songs about the teenage experience. You cannot tell me this boy wouldn’t fucking love Weezer.

Chopper

Lots of sugary bubblegum pop with a lot of energy. He feels embarrassed about a lot of the stuff he likes and tries to branch out to stuff the other crew mates like but his taste is still very sweet. Picks up a lot of music from Robin, but she makes sure not to give him anything too explicit.

Luffy

Will listen to pretty much anything as long as it has energy and a good beat.

Zoro

Prefers silence. Frequently bullies Sanji for his music taste.

Edit: damn so this got really popular uhhhh if you're seeing this now please check out my art

[pascallatte]

That kind of stuff

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x Actress!reader

Summary: What's going on behind the camera in one of Pedro's interviews.

Date: December 2020

Warnings: talk abt pornstars (iykyk)

A/N: omggg we're in the 20s nowwwww!!! I can't wait for you to read what's coming!!! sorry for posting early the next day, my Wi-Fi's having problems....

Another at-home interview? Why not it’s all people can get nowadays, so better get used to it. Pedro had already set up his area with the Wonder Woman wallpaper behind him. You were seated beside him, doing your own thing when he tapped you on the shoulder, signalling that his interview was starting.

“Hey, guys. Welcome to “Stir Crazy. My guest today is a struggling actor, starring in tiny projects like “The Mandalorian” and “Wonder Woman: 1984.” The host, Josh, enthusiastically opened making you stop what you’re doing in order to watch them.

“I’m here to give him a big break, It’s Pedro Pascal”

Smiling, Pedro raises his arms, “Finally, my big break, Thank you so much” he said sarcastically 

“Schmunder woman, nope. Let’s talk about the important stuff, You’re one of the sexiest men alive, You’re one of people magazine’s sexiest men alive,” Josh laughs when Pedro opens up his buttoned-up jacket.

Pedro opens it, superman style, “in plaid, that my girlfriend chose for me today.”

“And he’s got the plaid to prove it,” the host continues after having a good laugh.

“Does this validate you? Did you always know you had this in you?”

“Of course I did, it’s the only time where she gave me sincere compliments than back-handed ones,” he said subtly pointing at you, making the host once again ask. You stood up, making Pedro follow your form, asking where you were going with his eyes. Pointing to your room, he nods focusing back on the interview.

���So the title suggests the setting is 1984. So let’s- ok at the count of three, let’s each of us name our favorite 1980s song”, josh instructed Pedro, as he himself was getting ready to answer. 

“You ready?”

“One-“

“Purple Rain,” Pedro immediately said with a straight face. Making the host wheeze, “Wow, I didn’t even, okay. So yeah. That’s it”

They both laugh one in disbelief and one proud of his answer, “End of story.”

“What’s yours?” Pedro prodded, teasing the host. “You’re a kid. You weren’t even born.”

“I’m 97 years old. I was going to go with- I don’t know.” Josh defended himself before stating the obvious answers someone would say if asked about the 80s. “What do you think?”

“I wanna dance with somebody,” Pedro whispers, enclosing his mouth with his hands.”with somebody who…loves…me” he finishes.

“Okay, when you do it like that, just so you know it gets creepy,” 

He places a hand on the left side of his face covering his mouth, “blame-,” he points to you with his thumb, who coincidentally emerged out of your room. Shooting him a confused look, you can only shrug, return to your seat, and listen to them again.

Before you can even sit, a thought came into your mind. Nudging Pedro who looked at you for a second, you stand up infant of him. Tilting his head slightly, switching his look from the screen and you. Once you’ve got his attention, you pointed to the espresso machine you guys have, asking if he wanted some. He signals you to wait for a second.

“Is that Tom Selleck?” He said answering the host's question.

“It’s tom selleck, it’s Tom Selleck,” josh’s voice could be heard. “Hold on a minute,” Pedro says turning to look at you.

“Oh, uh ok,” confused, the host can only guess what would happen behind the camera.

Unknown to you, your voices can still be heard in the recording, catching what you guys were talking about. Looking at you, “What was it you were asking?” Pedro asks.

“I was asking if you wanted some coffee, it’s too early in the morning and we haven’t had coffee before this,” you whispered back to him.

“Oh, sure, thank you, amor,” he whispered back, shooting you a grateful smile.

Turning back to the camera, “ I have returned.” Pedro says in a villainous voice.

“I’m sorry, but you- I'm guessing your partner, y/n, can be heard. Is that ok with you or should we cut it out?” Josh says concerned for your privacy, even over the simplest thing.

“Oh, no, no. It’s ok. So where were we,” Pedro bypasses the host concern and drags it back to the mood of the interview.

“Ok..back to it,” josh grabs a paper, showing it to Pedro. “He’s living on a prayer man.”

While Pedro was having his sweet time in the interview, you just stood in the kitchen, staring at the wall, waiting for your coffee to finish. You thought that you’d get something to eat, but that was too noisy, so saving it for later, you chose to sit and wait.

As soon as the coffees ready, you took them walking back to the room you were previously in. Noticing Pedro who was laughing looking a bit flushed. Deciding to take a seat in front of him, you place down his cup then yours. You heard the host mention a name but you didn’t really mind it until you heard Pedro’s answer.

“Porn star,” he said smiling, heat slowly crawling up his cheeks when he sees you staring at him, with an eyebrow raised.

“You knew that too quickly, You knew that really quickly,” you heard josh say pointedly at him, before laughing. You continue to look at him with the same eyebrow raised, drinking your coffee, while Pedro smiled through the silent accusation.

“Are you frozen or are you just enjoying the moment?”

“I’m just enjoying the moment and fighting to avoid my girlfriend's intense stare,” Pedro stated smile still lingering on his face.

“Well, let’s see what your partner thinks of you when you answer these next few questions,” josh teases.

“George Payne?”

“He’s a super hero.”

Shocked Pedro widens his eyes, “No, It’s a pornstar. You got to look that one up,” you heard the interviewer say, making you whip your head from when you were looking at your phone.

“Hector Hammond?”

Drinking the coffee you gave him, “DC,” he says full of confidence.

“Yeah yeah, that’s a green lantern villain, I think Peter Skarsgard played that one.”

“The one with the plants and the flashlights,” Pedro says before bursting out a raspberry at what he’d said. “You sold it well.” The host laughed.

“Black Adam? Porn star or DC character?”

“Dc character.”

Nodding, “that’s dj, that’s the rock,” josh continues

“Buck adams.”

“Pornstar,” pedro says before looking at you expectedly, and of course you were there watching him intently know still with an eyebrow raised.

“I feel like you’ve seen some of buck’s work,”

“I mean we’re writing this down, right? Because-“ the host wheezes out laughing at Pedro’s comment. “That’s the rest of your day.”

“I need to look all of this up, that is if y/- am I allowed to mention her? Can I mention you here?” He asks the host before looking at you. Shrugging at first you turn around to give him a nod drinking your coffee.

“I- yeah sure, if that’s ok with her,” the host assures him.

“Yeah, she’s ok with that. If-if y/n allows me I mean, because she’s been giving me the stare the whole time we were talking about the-these stars,” Pedro said chuckling making the host laugh.

They calmed down after a few seconds, going serious all of a sudden.

“Harold…..Allnut?”

“Harold Walnut?” Pedro asks leaning closer to the camera.

“Harold allnut,” silence ensues staring at each other before laughing out loud, making similar kettle noises.

“I mean, would it matter which one he is?” Your boyfriend asks, face redder than before.

“Oh, I’ll watch his work regardless. What do you think?”

“I’ll watch his work regardless-,” moving his head side to side, pedro quotes him evidently having way too much fun. “-Regardless, I am a fan,” he continues.

“I hope he’s a pornstar-“ you drown out what ever they were saying focusing on the script you were reading. But curious on what had happened you tried to search one of the names you’ve heard from there. At first you thought it wasn’t too bad, but as you scroll down the things and figures you’ve seen has become too much that you shut your laptop of listening back to them.

“-nd then, if I’m going to speak to them in the Mando voice, it’s kind of a, it’s strangely like a bedroom voice, you know?” Pedro says hesitatingly making josh laugh.

You giggle to yourself at that, situating yourself directly next to Pedro.

“Yeah, that’s not appropriate for kids, but I don’t know, can we ask y/n?” Josh once again teases him, making him flush shaking his head.

“Ahh, no, no. that’s not Disney channel inappropriate- your question is...” Pedro says shaking his head “No,” sneaking to take a long glance at you, who he saw was trying your hardest to keep your laugh in.

“Ok, uh. Another challenge for you, let’s play a little game of who am I?” 

You saw Vin diesel appear on his part of the screen, making you watch him intently. Also wanting to see how he plays his part.

“Ok so uhm, shave off all of my head, give me a bunch of muscles, and then- and a fast car,” he finishes

“Oh, vin diesel. Easy,” the host exclaims.

The next name shows up, ‘C3PO.’

He does this butchered robotic voice making you cover your mouth to stop noise from flowing out. You can sense that Pedro’s looking at you, based on his reaction after the host had gotten it right.

“I’ve seen “the exorcist” about 117 times-,” he shouts making you jump to turn to look at him, “and it just keeps getting funnier every time I see it,” he continued making you and josh laugh.

Content with the reenactment, “you are beetlejuice, and it seems that not only I was enjoying it but also y/n,” he points out, “we can hear her laughing.”

Nodding, “oh, yeah she’s enjoying this alright,” Pedro tells him smiling widely.

And as the last name pops, you let out a gasp, looking at Pedro who was now laughing loudly. It’s just because coincidentally, or not, your name, rather your character's name, was of course added to the ones he had to describe or act out.

“Aha! This is an easy one, this-to whoever this person is please don’t kill me,” he said still laughing.

“Ok imagine a tiny- tiny agitated person, that rocks the bad ass role despite being….” he looks up thinking of something to describe you. “Oh yo-I’m going to give you this, “Dinos lo que sabes o te meteré esta puta pistola en la garganta y te volaré las entrañas!!” He acts imagining he’s holding a gun downwards. tell us what you know or else I'm gonna shove this fucking gun down your fucking throat and blow your insides out

“I think I should know who this is..” josh says.

“Yeah, I believe you do, that line stayed through out the last two seasons, you know,” he said as a matter of fact. Grin slowly appearing on his face, as he holds back his laughter when he saw you bending over the table red faced.

“Oh I know now, great choice of line by the way.”

Pedro raises his brows expectedly, cupping his ear turning closer to the screen. “It’s Catalina Mendoza, you- Y/n L/n’s character.”

“Bingoooo!!!” Pedro laughs now looking at you with a smile as you shoot him finger guns.

“Okay, okay-so I follow you on the instagram…“ the host continues to introduced their next topic, while you and Pedro talk quietly in order for the video to not record your conversation.

As soon as josh raises the face time picture of Oscar Isaac, you tap Pedro on the shoulder to take a look. He immediately bursted out laughing as he remembered this moment all too well.

“What’s going on here, buddy?”

“There’s our pandemic looks, man. Looking at today.”

“Is oscar Isaac like upside down?”

Guessing they’ll be talking about what had happened for a while, you decided to lay on the couch still kind of listening to the interview in the other room. I mean it’s the pandemic, what else can you do? As an actress, or like an actor in general, you’re always on the move so being at home for the past year had given you the rest you needed. But it didn’t last long really. So here you are now, slowly getting back to normal, kind of quickening up the pace.

Your peace was interrupted when you heard your name being shouted from the other room, curiously, you slowly sat up looking towards their direction. Seeing Pedro beckon you to their side, he pats the chair next to him. Telling the host that you’re there already.

“Ah there she, pedro said that you’d have to share your opinion on this question.”

Looking at your partner, yo just nodded while you waited for the question. “ he said would you rather have me-” he said pertaining to himself, “only dress in 80s clothing or be naked all the time?”

At this point you didn’t want to be seen or heard on camera so you opted on whispering your answer to Pedro, allowing the camera to get a glimpse of your home-clothed figure.

With a smile that grew into a smirk, he laughed at your response before saying a quick “thank you” as you got up.

“Y/- she said she would rather see me dressed in 80s clothing, but it really depends on me,” he said slowly looking at the camera before continuing, “Like can I- if I was naked all the time could I be alone? All the time?” He asked.

“It depends on you-“ the host cut himself off with a laugh when he saw Pedro’s expression. As soon as Pedro gets his response, he looks to the side, to where you were sitting a while ago, with a teasing smirk hinting out his meaning, which as a result makes josh laugh.

“I- do what you do, but you don’t have to live your life man, you just gotta do what you gotta do,” josh says now flushed from all the laughing he’s experienced during the interview.

Pretending to look sad, “I guess I’ll do it in 80s clothing,” Pedro said in a low voice.

“Ok fanny packs all the way, here we go.”

“Only a fanny pack.”

“Would you rather get, “this is the way,” tattooed on your face or on your back?”

“we-,“ motioning to you off-screen,”-had this conversation before and she insisted that I take it on my back, which I- for obvious reason, agree with her.”

“Okay. Yeah. That might limit your roles if you have it on your face,” josh jokes.

“Also, on my back might be a completely different message as well,” Pedro says giving josh a knowing look and a side smile.

Josh, laughs for the millionth time in the last 10 to 15 minutes, “Would you rather be always sweating or always be on the verge of a sneeze?”

Laughing to himself, Pedro’s mins had gone to places before ever answering the host. “oh, there’s kind of something orgasmic about being on the verge of a sneeze all the time- I could maybe- maybe I could get kind of used to that,” he says before acting out what an “orgasmic sneeze,” would ever look like.

“With the tattoo on your back, that’s quite a picture”

“Take it away” grinning to the camera, Pedro looks at you who was now recording him, in which he didn’t notice when.

“Last one, would you rather have a mouthful of bees or one be in your butt?”

“Oh I already have a bee in my butt,” he blows out a laugh. “Yeah, no- a bee in the butt… come one who doesn’t want a bee in the butt?”

“Those are goals.”

“Don’t be knocking it, man.”

Laughing, “I think we learned a lot about each other today. You learned that you’re not quite the porn connoisseur-” josh says making Pedro do a shushing sign with the finger on his mouth.

“- that you thought you were. We learned that you are one of the sexiest man alive-“

“I have work to do,” Pedro says cutting josh off before laughing.

The interview ended a short while after saying their goodbyes and thank you’s. Turning to Pedro who was fixing up his side of the table you gave him a smirk, making him shake his head.

“Soooo,i didn’t know you liked that kind of stuff,” teasingly you say as you cross you arms leaning on the table.

“Mhmm, please don’t bring that up again,” he says before walking to you, pushing you up to sit on the couch instead. In the silence, you both enjoyed your cups of coffee, talking about what to do for the rest of the day.

Taglist: @benonlinear @t-stark35 @heyitsme-2 @elleeeee21 @holmesstrange @tagakalat @flyestvenustrap @oldermenaremyreligion @cherryred444 @hobiismyhopeu @ilovehotdadsandshit @djarinsstuff @guacala @avengersheart @pukka-latte @lilvampirina

[waterfire1848]

Sokkla Opposite AU, where Sokka is the banished Water Empire Prince looking for the Avatar and Azula is the last firebender of Hira'a who just found a boy inside a volcano.

Hello, @stardust948 !!! (BTW Love this reverse AU!)

1. Azula grew up in Hira’a because that’s where Ursa took the children and fled to when the Water Tribe attacking (very big mistake making your main city basically in a bowl). Iroh, Ozai, Lu Ten, Azula and Zuko were living their lives in the royal palace when the WT attacked and Ursa took the kids and fled to Hira’a which is where they’ve spent most of their lives (13 years). Ursa never stopped telling her children stories about Caldera and a time before the Water Tribe attacked and the Avatar which Azula rejected by Zuko was mesmerized by. Azula never really thought the Avatar could be alive and instead wanted to focus on defeating the Water Tribe so that they could go home. Iroh, Ozai and Lu Ten all never come to Hira’a so Ursa has no clue what happened to them but, shortly before Aang comes, she’s killed by the Water Tribe (who are looking for any remaining members of the Royal Family). Azula is the last firebender left in the area and feels the weight of this everyday. One day, she and Zuko are by the volcano (Zuko: Yeah. The Water Tribe would never look for two firebenders near a volcano. What a crazy idea. Azula: Zuzu. Zuko: Yes? Azula: I will know you into the active volcano. Please shut up. I’m trying to focus.) Of course he doesn’t shut up, Azula gets made and a familiar airbender pops out.

2. Sokka was banished by his father because he’s a nonbender. (Kinda hypocritical since Hakoda’s a nonbender too but…) Basically, Sokka was scarred and banished because Hakoda wanted Katara to take charge. He believed that she, being a girl in the Water Tribe, would be far more easy to control when she was on the throne as opposed to Sokka. So, Hakoda tricks Sokka so that when he goes on a traditional hunt, Sokka is attacked by a polar bear dog and blinded in one eye and returns home empty handed. Hakoda regards this as Sokka’s failure to show he can’t lead (he can’t even catch some food for a family. How is he expected to lead a nation?) and banishes him to find the Avatar. When Sokka sees the light coming from the Fire Nation island, he knows that this is his moment. (Sokka: Gran Gran, do you know what this means?!?! Kanna: That we have to go to the land where 80 degrees is their record low temperature?). Sokka’s scar is three long scratches over his eye and he can’t see out of it, so he relies on his other eye and good hearing to detect things. Also, because of his lack of bending, he’s become an expert in weapons and hand to hand combat which aids him greatly in an initial fight against Zuko (which he wins easily) and he doesn’t get to fight Aang because the airbender goes with him without issue (Aang: I bet none of you Water Tribe soldiers have ever fought an airbender before…)

3. When the Fire Nation was attacked, firebenders fled all over the planet and were hunted down by the Water Empire. Realizing they were weak, a good number of firebenders took whatever resources they could find and fled to the old Sun Warriors civilization. Azula and Zuko, being former royalty, were able to get that information and tell Aang about it so he can learn firebending (I changed the cycle. It’s now air, fire, earth and water). However, to throw Sokka off their trial they have to make a couple stops in the Earth Kingdom first. (Azula: I’m telling you, based on how Aang flies that water prince won’t be able to track us. Aang: What do you mean how I fly? Azula: We literally flew across two islands then flew back to both of those islands. Aang: Seems normal to me Azula: Yeah, no one is figuring out our pattern.) In the Earth Kingdom, they find Mai, who also fled with her family but they went to the Earth Kingdom. Mai is still trained as a markswoman but now she’s also helping the Yuyan archers. (Zuko: MAI! Azula: Your girlfriend is alive after all. Aang: Girlfriend? Azula: Mai and Zuko were inseparable before the Water Tribe attacked Caldera. They literally did everything together. Zuko: What?! No, we didn’t. Azula: Okay, we’ll pretend. Maybe we can also pretend the sky isn’t blue, Appa isn’t big and the Water Tribe doesn’t suck too. Zuko: 😡 Azula: This is only proving my point). Mai agrees to join after realizing where they’re going and what they’re trying to do.

4. Bato is a bit different from Zhao. He’s a family friend, but also Bato doesn’t just tell Sokka not to try and capture Aang. He gives him a chance but when Sokka can’t, he steps in and tells Sokka to remain put while he handles it. (Kind of in a…. ‘You’re my kinda sorta nephew’ way). Would you believe that Sokka doesn’t listen? Bato figures out where they’re going and that that’s the hiding place of the firebenders. The Water Tribe empire sends as many ships as possible and attacks while Azula, Zuko and Aang are there. When they arrived to the Sun Warrior’s home, they met Ty Lee who became a sort of spiritual person since her time in Caldera and is very closely connected to the dragons. When the city is attacked, she and the dragons emerge to protect the people and one of the dragons is shot down. The Water Tribe has GREAT respect for the spirits but they don’t really care for the first benders of other nations so killing a dragon is not a big deal to them. You know who it is a big deal for? Aang. While Aang attacks the Water Tribe, Ty Lee sacrifices herself to become the second dragon and maintain balance. (Sokka: Bato! Bato! Bato, hardly breathing because the dragon drove its claws into his chest: Hey, Sokka. Sokka: BATO! Bato, don’t worry. We’ll get a healer and- Bato: Don’t. I’m okay. Sokka: The blood coming out of your body would say otherwise. Bato: Sokka, I don’t know what you know about your father’s plan but promise me you’ll stay safe. Sokka: I- Bato: Promise me. Sokka: I promise. Bato: Good. Good….Sokka: Bato?…Bato…😭) (Hakoda: Ugh! Advisor: Sir, I- Hakoda: Get Katara! Advisor: But the princess- Hakoda: Get her! Tell her that she has her first mission. Bringing her brother back and killing Team Avatar. I have a feeling her newest skill will be very useless for that.)

5. Katara in canon was incredibly strong on just a couple weeks of training. Now imagine her with years of training and being okay with bloodbending (yeah....not good). As the princess of the Water Empire, Katara has a military force behind her but chooses not to use it because she wants to move swiftly. To do so, she uses Yue and Suki to help her. Yue isn’t exactly a princess (since only Katara can fulfill that role) but because the Water Tribe is incredibly spiritual, she is held in high esteem for having some of Tui’s life force. Unlike Azula and Zuko in canon, Katara and Sokka get along great. The second Sokka sees Katara he runs over to hug her and ask her how she’s been. Katara really doesn’t have any bad intentions so she tells Sokka about the mission their father has given her and if he wants to help. Sokka grows worried though because he doesn’t have Aang and wonders why his father could want him back without the Avatar. (Katara: He wants you back. What’s the problem? Sokka: I just….I don’t know. It feels weird. Katara: He’s our father. Sokka: I know and I know he just wants what’s best for us both but- Katara: He probably wants you back now because the Avatar is back. Hope will return to the Earth Kingdom and whatever’s left of those ashmakers may come together again. We need our Prince. Sokka: You’re right. Katara: I always am. Sokka: Spirits, I forgot how annoying you are when you’re right. Katara: I’d like to think of it as more….announcing to the world that I’m smarter than you. Sokka: You were right in this one argument. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves). The first time the four meet the Gaang, Katara goes right for bloodbending and bloodbends them all. (Katara: You’re not living up to the legend, Avatar). She only losses because Azula hits her with enough fire that Katara has to back up and they escape on Appa. (Sokka: You learned to bloodbend during the day?!?! Katara: That’s not all I learned. Sokka: What do you mean? Katara: Let’s just say I have a very…creative way to make sure that little firebender and the Avatar never bend a single element again).

(Plus one) 6. In Ba Sing Se, Sokka realizes the truth: that Hakoda doesn’t want him to return and grows terrified of going back with Katara. With very limited options, since Katara is seconds from taking over the city, he decides to switch sides and make a desperate jump to Aang’s team (Azula: Why would you join us? Sokka:….The good of the world? Azula: 😑). Of course, no one on the team trusts him but they’re a little occupied with fighting Katara to really worry about that. While fighting in the final battle, it’s Katara vs Sokka, Azula and Aang and Katara is very angry that Sokka changed sides. She’s angry enough that it throws her off her game and she ends up at Azula’s mercy with a flame to her throat. (Aang: Azula, no! Azula: We have to! If we don’t kill her now then she’ll kill us later! Aang: No! We can’t kill her. Azula, taking her eyes off of Katara: Aang- Sokka, noticing what Katara is about to do: Azula, watch out! *He pushes her out of the way of one of Katara’s attacks and Katara sends an ice blade past Azula and straight into Sokka’s chest. Sokka: AHHHH!! Azula: Sokka!) Katara takes the moment of panic to attack Aang, bloodbending him and Azula down and removing Aang’s bending but being forced to flee (cause….the Earth King has guards) before she can remove Azula’s. Azula, Zuko and the guards get Aang and Sokka to a healer’s room while Katara, Yue and Suki flee the city without being detected. Azula remains with Sokka and Aang while they heal, staying with Sokka until he actually wakes up. (Azula: He saved my life. Zuko: He did. Maybe he has changed. Azula: Zuko: Azula? Azula: No one’s ever….Zuzu? Zuko: Yes? Azula: Nevermind. It’s not important. I’ll talk to Sokka when he wakes up.)

[fallenrockstars]

INTRODUCING MY FURRY GUYS I GUESS. OR WHATEVER.

Kicking off this account I guess with a selection of (at this point, quite old) Toyhouse icons I did of my miscellaneous OC’s. All from basically the same universe, but some of them may be part of different unrelated stories from one another

Below the cut, I’ll give a super brief description of my main OC stories and who each character is is.

—————————————— I have three or four story projects in active/current development at the present, but I’ll introduce the two most developed ones.

My main one is currently in need of a new title, but it’s a horror dramedy / murder mystery. about my fictional band with the tremendously on-the-nose name Dead Celebrities— whose rise to fame also coincides with a series of strange murders of several other prominent musicians in town. The story basically revolves around the members of the band trying to deduce who may be responsible for the killings, all while trying to stay alive themselves. The further they investigate, not only do they begin suspect one of their own may be the culprit, but that said culprit may be involved with even more sinister forces than they could have imagined.

My second one is called The Devil You Know, which revolves around the lead protagonist Nico who aspires to be a famous rock musician, but feels stifled by his chronic ailments and lack of skill. Through a boredom induced ouija board mishap, he finds himself summoning a demon who makes a deal with him to grant him otherworldly musical skill— unfortunately this leads to said demon possessing Nico, so now he must live with the experience of having the world’s worst roommate and a parasite wrapped up all in one ancient evil entity.

——————————————

As for the individual characters, I’ll introduce each in picture order from left to right.

1 / JESSE: Grumpy, broody, moody guitarist for an 80’s rock / heavy metal band called Dead Celebrities. Deep down very kind and sensitive despite what his aloof, offputting demeanor may indicate. Many wild town rumors circulate around him due to his mysterious nature, all of which are far more interesting than his actual life. Main protagonist of my murder mystery story. Also the main one trying to investigate the murders.

2 / CHERRY: One of Jesse’s best friends and member of Dead Celebrities’ rival band called Lost Daughters. A sarcastic spitfire and also her band’s lead singer. Is basically everyone’s wise older sister… even if she’s a bit smug about it sometimes. Part of the murder mystery story.

3 / PINK: Part of a story somewhat unrelated to the two I mentioned. His story takes place in the late 2000’s-early 2010’s. Former teen heartthrob kid’s sitcom actor turned somewhat washed up emo singer and social media personality. Has been cancelled every week for the past several years. Has made multiple YouTube apology videos. He’s kind of a fuckboy asshole (but he does redeem himself somewhat)

4/ WILEY: Weirdo bassist for Dead Celebrities and armchair paranormal expert. Professionally mentally ill, couch surfs and does odd jobs for income. Freaks out his roommates by doing seances in the apartment. Part of the murder mystery story. Is Donnie’s older half-brother.

5/ MEPHISTOPHELES: Demon. Nico’s parasite. Will drink all your pepsi and call you a bitch. Is the eternal spirit of a former musician. Part of the The Devil You Know story.

6/ DONNIE: Dorky rhythm guitarist and occasional keyboardist for Dead Celebrities. Painfully earnest and sweet. Has an unrequited crush on Jesse. Chronic nervous wreck but overcompensates with extreme friendliness. Overcaffeinated, sleep-deprived med school student. Part of the murder mystery story. Is Wiley’s little half-brother.

7/ EDDIE: Dead Celebrities’ drummer and casanova extraordinaire. Good with the business side of the band stuff. Gregarious, excitable, goofy personality. Really having fun with the whole rock-star persona thing. Think Jack Black type vibes. He’s also Cherry’s boyfriend. Part of the murder mystery story.

8/ RIOT: Part of a story partially connected to the murder mystery one. Goofy himbo glam metal party boy who don’t want nothin’ but a good time. Clinically oblivious.

9/ NICO: Perpetually anxious, poorly socialized shut-in with chronic illness and barely any exposure to the outside world. Craves a change of pace in the form of fame, but unfortunately a deal with a demon to gain said musical prowess resulting in said evil entity taking up partial residence in his body wasn’t the kind of shake-up he was wanting. Not to mention, the effects of acute demon possession have been taking a serious toll on his health… Part of the The Devil You Know story.

[spaceorphan18]

Okay, I just watched the second episode of Severance

I'll put some thoughts under the cut for spoilers

So, I didn't do this for episode 1, and I should have, but I kind of have the same reaction to both?

These two episodes are the kind of standard -- back from hiatus, reacting to the previous season finale and setting up for season 2. Not a whole lot goes on in either episode, but this is a show built on slowness and details, so I'm okay with the storytelling here.

Alright, so let's talk about Mark. There is one really big thing that was revealed in Ep 2. That Mark is kind of the key for whatever Lumon is doing. I kind of wondered about that -- especially in this episode when everyone else was getting fired but Lumon had no intentions of letting Mark go.

Also, I don't think Gemma is alive. I think she is/was either a robot or a simulation or something -- but she was used to manipulate Mark, even if it was subconsciously. I do think that's one mystery we're getting into this season.

Also, also I really hope Mark's sister continues to be a force. She often seems like one of the smartest people on the show, so I'm curious as to how she'll be a key in all of this.

Meanwhile -- let's talk about Dylan and Irving. We did get to see more of Dylan's outside life. Did we know his last name was George? Is that important? Why is Dylan's life being played up as a mystery - is there something there? Or just another secret to toy the audience with?

Irving's story is going to be really pushing in on the romance with Burt (as it should!) so I'm not surprised we didn't get much of him. I do think he's going to be a driving force behind a lot of the action, though. He's definitely going to become the chaos player of the group.

So. Helly/Helen. I saw/read some speculation that Helly is not back, and it's Helen going in. I really do believe that -- between the lie and the fact that when she walked in that elevator at the end and they didn't show her change -- I think she's going undercover.

I actually wonder if we're going to see more of the inner workings of Lumon with Helen being at the forefront. It's a good way to unravel some of the mysteries around the company. We did already get to see a little of that in ep. 2.

I also bet, five bucks, that we won't see Helly return until the very end. A weird love triangle between Mark/Helly/Helen? Maybe? Helen was definitely fascinated by that kiss -- though I suspect she's doing it as a way towards manipulation.

Wtf is going on with Ms. Cobel/Selvig? I have no idea -- she is unhinged and I do think she was right in that Lumon fears her, and wants to keep her under control. She's going to be another chaos agent of the season.

One small detail I noticed -- for a show that has such crazy technology, there's a lot of old tech. I noticed the cars in the parking lot of Lumon all look like cars from the 80s/90s. Despite the fact that there are cell phones - Irving uses a payphone. That door company Dylan applies to feels... old school.

I wonder if that's just an atmospheric thing they're doing, or... what? Idk, it just seems interesting.

Oh, and speaking of atmosphere -- the scoring continues to be one of the best things of the show. It should get all the awards. The music is on point. Between the scoring and the brilliant set design, the show is incredibly intriguing.

I'm still plenty curious to see where all of this is going...

[youbutstupid]

My personal ranking of all of the episodes directed by Matthew Gray Gubler

1. Mosley Lane, 5x16: the first episode directed by MGG and arguably one of his most iconic. The carnival themes along with the actual story created a really stressful but engaging watch and I loved watching the mum be proved right. The line ‘he was alive yesterday’ really sealed the episode for me.

2. Mr Scratch, 10x21: I love dark and creepy episodes, as you will see from this list, and this episode was perfect. The horror movie aspects added to the mind games that were being played on both the audience and the characters were insane. I loved how the lighting in this episode remained dark so the audience never got any reprieve from the horror. We also had to grieve each character at some point.

3. The Lesson, 8x10: this episode was so gruesome and I don’t normally like gore but this was done in such an interesting and terrifying way. I loved the ballet scene and the end when Hotch is walking through the fake ‘audience’- both such beautifully haunting scenes and I loved how we were put inside the unsub’s delusion.

4. Lauren, 6x18: arguably one of the most iconic episodes for Emily Prentiss’ character. I really loved how this episode opened a lot of things up for Prentiss as a character and also allowed for a lot of things about her to be explained. I also loved the reveal about Doyle’s son and it really left me on edge and questioning a lot.

5. A Beautiful Disaster, 11x18: I really deliberated this ranking because I wanted it to be higher but didn’t know where to place it. I’m not easy to make cry yet this episode had me sobbing. It was so intense and Morgan’s departure was done so beautifully, I honestly didn’t know what to do with myself after watching it. MGG really perfected his craft with the set out of this one.

6. Tall Man, 14x05: this episode is amazing because you can see the influence it takes from the real life Slenderman case which made it really eerie but interesting to watch. I also loved that the episode was JJ centric and we got to learn more about her and her background with Roslyn and her parents. This episode really made me adore JJ’s character even more and AJ’s acting was incredible (I know that isn’t a note about MGG’s directing but I just needed to give AJ her credit because she was insane).

7. Heathridge Manor, 7x19: the old Salem themes with the medieval dresses and the old rituals? Stunning. The visuals for this episode were amazing and the story was so interesting. The end when she hallucinates and we are left with the image of her alone on the doorstep; my Lord.

8. Elliott’s Pond, 12x06: this might not be the right word for a Criminal Minds episode but it honestly felt kind of cosy? With the 80s horror themes and the overall lack of death, this episode is more wholesome than other Gubler episodes whilst still maintaining his classic spark. The end of the case itself was really emotional and heartwarming and I’m glad that MGG gave Hotch’s character some semblance of a goodbye because we know how close he was to Thomas Gibson.

9. Blood Relations, 9x20: probably the most messed up episode ever. Picture every dark theme you can put into a piece of media and you get this episode. It honestly made me feel sick and I think that’s why I liked it so much; I like episodes that make leave an effect and this one definitely did that. I can’t even describe what happened in this episode without getting banned but oh my. This only isn’t higher because I preferred the storylines in the previous episodes.

10. The Capilanos, 13x17: this episode had a good premise and I think the introduction where there is no music and you’re left with the odd squeaks of the clown was amazing. I liked the calls to IT, my only issue with this episode is it had the opportunity to be really tense and scary but the middle chunk of the episode just wasn’t. The end of the case was good though and it started to pick up a lot.

11. Alchemy, 8x20: this episode had a good storyline and the visuals definitely had influences from horror movies such as The Shining. The only reason it’s not higher is because it didn’t hit me as hard as the others, but it’s still a really good episode to watch.

12. The Gatekeeper, 9x07: the storyline was good, it just felt more like classic Criminal Minds than a Gubler episode. The main star of this episode is the team bonding that we get to see with Rossi helping Reid grieve Maeve and then the karaoke scene was so beautiful.

[neersivu]

Beyond Time

So, I had this AU idea. The picture attached describes visually what happened in this story:

Steven left Beach City after his meltdown and the years went by. He started healing his inner self, and even if it wasn't a linear process, he kept getting better. Connie finished college, and they started living together in Empire City. They got married at 26, and life was full of joy. The Gems, Greg, and other friends like Lars and the Off Colors visited them regularly.

Steven had his 30th birthday, and things were going well, but as the years kept going, they started to realize that Steven wasn't aging anymore. It was like when he was younger again. Despite the efforts, he couldn't keep the aging pace with Connie or his other human friends. It was a total mystery; neither the Gems nor the Diamonds knew what the cause was. But times were still good, so even if they were worried, it wasn't a real problem, because the only thing is that he looked a little younger than his other acquaintances, right? That was what he thought the first couple of years.

5, 10, 15, 20, 25....30 years went by, and by the time Connie was almost 60 the difference was notorious. Lars and the rest of the Gems still looked the same. Greg was almost 80.

Even if they couldn't do as many things as they did when they were younger, Greg, Connie, and Steven still had fun. They played cards now and then, baked cookies, and reunited all together every Christmas in the Barn with Lapis, Peridot, and Bismuth.

One day, at the age of 95, Greg passed away. Before the moment, he had given Steven clear instructions of not bringing him back with his tears: he was happy with the life he had and wished nothing else but rest, and who knows? Maybe he would meet his deceased beloved in realms who are still not known by neither humans nor gems.

Years kept going, and Connie's time came. Steven and her were peacefully dozing off in the bed of the house they purchased in Beach City after Greg passed away. It was after the Christmas party in the Barn. By the surprisingly old age of 98, after spending almost 85 wonderful years together with Steven, she died. She just didn't wake up. As per her previous instructions, Steven wasn't allowed to bring her back. They had discussed it after Greg's death. She had a wonderful life and wanted to preserve the memories of those years just as they were.

The Gems were there for Steven in these rough times, but he just wasn't feeling good by being there without his loved ones. He felt too much grief. So he decided to accompany Lars in his adventures with the Off Colors. He left the earth with his friend Lars, who only looked a couple of years older.

They had a great time in space; they met new creatures and visited other planets and galaxies. They were so long outside that they even managed to go to the place where the Diamonds were created.

After 500 years of being traveling in space, Lars suddenly started to decay. Lion passed away 200 years ago, so they all knew this moment would come sooner or later. Lars started to feel tired, so they stopped in Homeworld to rest. Lars died in the night in a cozy bed surrounded by his Off Color friends and Steven, who cried his death, but his tears were no longer enough magic to bring Lars back again. It simply wasn't enough fuel to make him alive again. Steven could only bring Lars or any other back from the dead once, and when the power ran out, that was it. There was nothing else to do.

Steven was full of sadness. He decided to keep traveling by himself. He took a small fast ship and went into space again. The Off Colors stayed in Homeworld. After a time of being here and there, he just couldn't find sense in being alone in space anymore. He had visited Earth and the Gems a couple of times, but he didn't really want to be there, not with the empty spots of everyone he once knew.

So, once again, he went to Homeworld and decided to take his rightful place as Pink Diamond, one of the four rulers of the galaxy. Together with the Diamonds, they managed the universe.

Nonetheless, even if he was really busy with his Diamond duties, he sometimes felt sadness and remembered with nostalgia the good old times. Those sad days, he would take his new personal ship and travel to Pink Diamond's former garden. From there, he could contemplate the Milky Way and the things that had been, as if it had all been a beautiful dream. Now that everything has changed and he has become royalty, what would the future yield for him? There were many things he would think there watching the dark sky, while he knew deep down that he would be stagnant in the age of 30 years forever, condemned to watch friends die.

He sometimes wanted to go and be friends only with the Gems and no humans, to avoid this suffering again, but it just was too much for him. He didn't want old memories back. So Steven just used to stay in the Garden until duty called, and he returned to Homeworld again...

Notes: I just like Steven in fancy feminine clothes okay? He is still a powerful Diamond and ruler of the Galaxy. He has embraced this stage of his life and wears something that makes him feel as such. Also, those pants and clothes are fresh and comfortable. :)

I also drew a little star bracelet. It represents that even if he wants to forget the pain, the memories will always be a part of his life, and he doesn't truly want to let them go away.

It is made in a big format with lots of pixels or that stuff, so maybe you can't watch everything clearly without having a tablet or something. Click on the picture to see the details! Or else, check some of them down here :]

Bracelet:

[ashwritesmonsters]

The Thru-Hiker (part 2)

Female Reader x Male Mothperson (Desmond)

Prev: [Interlude] Next: [Part 3] Words: 2.9k Note: Yes, this story is alive! Don't mind me just editing things like 80 times 😭

As you wake gently to the sun shining through old lace curtains, you enjoy a delicious moment of not quite knowing where you are. Your body feels rested properly for the first time in ages, and the bed underneath you feels impossible to get up from. This all changes when you remember you're in Willow Grove, on the second floor of Evangeline's Bed & Breakfast, and running into Desmond again is a very real possibility. The town was a tiny one, after all, and Moths like Desmond literally stood head and shoulders above the humans, Selkies, and Lupines in town.

With the possibility of seeing him again giving you much needed motivation to get out of bed—you literally imagine yourself hugging him and nuzzling into his soft neck fuzz—you quickly freshen up with an indulgent hot shower and throw on some fresh clothes. You never realized how much you missed wearing things like leggings and sweaters until you wore nothing but purpose-made hiking gear for months. 

The moment you step out of your cozy room, you're dragged by the nose downstairs towards the aroma of fresh croissants. As you step into the kitchen, Evangeline pulls a baking sheet with half a dozen of them out of the oven, her tail wagging with satisfaction.

"Good morning, dear," she greets you, moving with impressive speed to set out a plate and silverware for you in the breakfast nook. "How did you sleep?"

"Perfectly," you reply, playing hot potato with a fresh croissant as you sit at your plate. 

"I've forgotten how nice it is to sleep in a real bed. I seriously considered never getting up."

"Well that just wouldn't do!" She smiles warmly, baring her sharp canines. "Otherwise, who would I share breakfast with?" She turns her back on you for a moment to reach for jugs on the counter. "Coffee, orange juice, water?" She offers.

"Coffee, please," you ask. You heft your camera off your shoulder strap and onto the table, where it's joined by a mug of steaming coffee. You don't have to be a coffee snob to tell by smell alone that this is better than the freeze-dried stuff you had with you on the trail.

"You're a photographer, I take it?" Evangeline asks, eyeing your toaster-sized camera.

"I am," you say between bites of warm croissant. She smiles as you enjoy her delicious handiwork.

"Is that what brings you to Willow Grove?"

You think while you chew. Yes, you could tell her that you're here because you hiked five months to find a Moth you hooked up with in the woods, whose full name and contact info you don't even know, and you're sorta hoping to just bump into him in town and...

"Pretty much," you lie. "I took lots of photos on the trail, and I guess I didn't want to go straight back to the big city. Willow Grove is a very pretty town." That last part is honest.

"Well you are in for a treat." Evangeline leans in, elbows on the counter. She's proud of her town and her tail wagging is proof. "If you're looking for something to do today, I'd love to help you with some recommendations of mine."

"That would be lovely." Just like that, your croissant is nothing but crumbs, so you sip your coffee.

"Well, I think you should start at our library." Evangeline reads your mind and grabs you another warm croissant. "I'm sure you would find the archival photos there interesting. There are some from nearly a hundred years ago on the microfiche."

"Wow. That's pretty good archiving." You start working on the second croissant. You're drawn in by the chance to see this town in photos a century old. The town already feels so steeped in history; you'd love being able to see it for real.

"For a town this size it's unheard of. The library really is the centerpiece of the town. It's the only building with three stories and it's a beauty, too. It's all red brick and stained glass on the outside, with stained wood and brass fittings on the inside. It's pretty enough to photograph on its own, now that I think of it."

"I'll have to do that, then," you chew. "Thank you for the recommendation, Evangeline. I'd be lost without your help."

"Of course, dear. Don't hesitate come by and chat with me again."

You nod eagerly and thank her again. Between Evangeline's generosity and the small town charm, Willow Grove was growing on you. Once you finish your coffee and croissant, your camera finds itself slung on your shoulder once again and you set off, stepping out into the crisp Autumn air.

The walk to the library is a pleasant one, with the scent of fallen leaves and woodsmoke in the air. As you approach the building, you see what Evangeline meant when she said it was the town's centerpiece. The red brick exterior is adorned with intricate stained-glass windows depicting scenes of nature and the townspeople. Where the morning light shines on the exterior just right, you frame a shot and snap a photo.

Stepping inside, you're greeted by the rich, dark wood interior that oozes warmth and history. If you weren't drawn here by the lure of the archival photos (and didn't have a Mothman to find), you'd want nothing more than to curl up in a warm corner and finish a book in one sitting. Your eyes are drawn to the towering bookshelves that seem to reach for the heavens, each equipped with rolling ladders to access the highest volumes.

Following Evangeline's advice, you make your way to the microfiche room, eager to delve into the historical photographs she had mentioned. Upon entering, you find yourself alone under the dim lighting with only the sound of analogue machinery as various machines hum and click around you.

You take a seat at one of the microfiche machines, both eager and intimidated. You're no stranger to old tech, but you've never used one of these, and the machine's knobs and scroll wheels seem don't match anything you've used before. With determination, you begin to attempt operation, threading a nearby spool of delicate film through the machine and squinting at the projected images on the screen.

Despite your best efforts, the machine proves stubborn and uncooperative. The images refuse to focus properly, and the scroll wheel seems to have a mind of its own as it either moves too fast or not at all. Growing increasingly frustrated, you ball your hands into fists and fight the urge to smack the machine. You'd probably end up more damaged than the machine if you did.

"Ugh," you mutter under your breath, trying to channel your patience and remind yourself that it's just an old machine. "Why won't you cooperate?"

Taking a deep breath, you look around the dimly lit room, seeking solace in the quiet space. As your eyes adjust to the low light, you notice the intricate details of the machinery and the countless reels of microfiche waiting to be explored. Thinking about the long history of this town and the fact you're only one of many people determined to photograph it and record its charm calms you down a bit.

You refocus your attention on the stubborn machine, steeling yourself for another attempt at coaxing it into cooperation.

Just as you're about to touch the scroll wheel again, a gentle tap on your shoulder startles you. Your heart leaps into your throat as you spin around, only to find Desmond standing behind you with a warm smile on his face. 

"Hey there," he says softly, his big red eyes sparkling with amusement. "Need a hand?"

"Desmond!" you exclaim, unable to contain your joy at seeing him again. With a mix of delight and relief, you sweep him into a tight hug, lifting his featherlight frame off the ground for a moment. His fluffy wings flutter against your back, and you can't help but smile even wider.

"Wow, someone got pretty swole on the trail," Desmond jokes awkwardly as you set him back down, his chitinous features accentuating his shy grin. "I'm glad to see you too."

"Sorry, I just got carried away," you apologize, cheeks burning a little. "It's been so long since we last saw each other."

"Yeah, it really has," he agrees, rubbing the back of his neck. "How have things been for you since we... parted ways?"

"Tiring, but good," you reply, trying to focus on the positive aspects of hiking and living like a caveman. "I actually finished the trail just a few days ago. You weren't kidding when you said the town was right near the trail's end."

"Well, welcome back to civilization. I don't need to reintegrate you to society do I?" He teases.

"Shut up," you land a playful shove against his shoulder. "What are you doing in the library, anyway? You haven't been stalking me since I got into town, have you?" You tease back.

"Actually, I work here. It's what I did before I hiked the trail and it's good to be back."

Desmond the Librarian just seems too fitting for him. "How's life as a librarian?" You ask.

"Quiet, mostly," Desmond admits with a chuckle. "But I like it. It gives me time to read and watch old movies, which is nice. Plus, I get to help people find what they're looking for, whether it's a book or a piece of microfiche."

"Speaking of which," you say, gesturing toward the stubborn machine, "any tips on how to make this damn thing work?"

"Of course," Desmond says, stepping closer to the microfiche machine. With a few deft movements of his slender fingers, he adjusts the knobs and scroll wheels, and the image on the screen comes into focus.

"Thanks," you say with relief. "I was about to give up on this thing."

"Anytime," he replies with a warm smile. Then, he glances around for a moment before leaning in slightly, voice hushed as if by instinct in the quiet library. "Hey, do you want to see something really cool?"

"Sure, what is it?" you ask, your curiosity piqued.

"Come with me," Desmond says, leading you out of the dimly lit microfiche room and toward a staircase tucked away in the back corner of the library. "There's a private office upstairs with an amazing view of the town. I think you'll like it."

As you ascend the stairs, you notice the atmosphere shifting from the cozy bustle of the library to a serene, quieter space. The dark wood paneling continues upwards, and the scent of old books melds with the faintest hint of dust.

Desmond opens the door to the private office, revealing a room filled with antique furniture and more floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. A large, arched window dominates one wall, offering a stunning view of Willow Grove below.

"Wow, this place is incredible," you breathe, taking in the beauty of the room and the town beyond. Townspeople below mill about, getting ready for a lazy morning. You can see the cafes on the main street starting to fill up and people driving their cars on the winding roads to the neighboring towns.

"I thought you might like it," Desmond says, a hint of pride in his voice. "It's one of my favorite spots in the library."

You both step closer to the window, absorbing the breathtaking view and enjoying each other's company in the peaceful atmosphere of the office.

"You know, um..." Desmond starts, fidgeting with his neck fluff, "I'm happy to see you again. I'm glad decided to find me again."

"Me too." You sidle up to him, enjoying the warmth of one of his wings. "I worried you'd think I was crazy, or you'd have gotten over me, or..."

Desmond stops you. "No, not at all. "I'll admit, this would have been much easier if I just gave you my number," he chuckles, "but it just didn't feel right back then, you know? But now that some time has passed and I've gotten to be on my own for a bit... this feels right, having you with me."

"Thank you," you reply, touched by his words. Your heart swells, and the knowledge that Desmond is just as happy as you are to be here has your face filling with warmth. If Evangeline's croissants were a feeling, they'd be closest to the sensation of Desmond wrapping a soft, warm, fuzzy wing around you as you both watch Willow Grove come to life.

Just as you're about to stand on your tiptoes to plant a kiss on him somewhere, the door behind you swings open.

"Desmond, I need to talk to you about..." The voice, strong and low like dark chocolate, trails off as the Mothwoman enters the room and spots you. Immediately, an aura of coldness and intimidation emanates from her, making the air heavy with tension. She's taller even than Desmond, and her black wings, spiderwebbed with streaks of white, wrap around her like a cloak.

"Who is this?" she demands, her gaze fixed on you. The warmth in the room dissipates like a snuffed out candle.

"Mom, this is my friend," Desmond says, trying to defuse the situation. "We met on the Appalachian Trail a while back."

"Friend?" Samara narrows her eyes, suspicious of your presence. Her overprotectiveness of Desmond is palpable, making you feel like an intruder in their world.

"Nice to meet you, Mrs... um..." You stammer, offering your hand in a polite gesture.

"Samara," she replies icily, ignoring your extended hand. She turns her attention back to Desmond. "You never mentioned any new friends from your trip."

"Ah, well, we just recently got back in touch," Desmond explains, his voice wavering slightly under his mother's scrutiny.

"Is that so?" Samara regards you with a steely gaze, her tone accusatory. She begins asking terse, probing questions, attempting to assess you as if you were a threat. "How did you meet? Why are you here in Willow Grove?"

"Um, we met by chance on the trail," you respond, feeling uneasy under her intense stare. "As for the rest, I'm just here to take some photographs. It's a hobby of mine." You try to remain polite, but can't help being taken aback by her coldness.

"Photographs," she repeats skeptically, looking you up and down. There's something unspoken in her expression, a hint of distrust that you can't quite decipher.

"Mom, please," Desmond interjects, coming to your defense. "It's really not a big deal. We're just catching up."

"Fine," Samara relents, her tone still chilly. "But don't plan on spending all day with her. You're needed at the circulation desk soon." With that, she gives you one last lingering glare before turning and leaving the room as abruptly as she had entered.

You stand there in the wake of her departure, heart pounding, as the atmosphere slowly begins to return to near-normal.

"Sorry about that," Desmond says with an apologetic grimace. "My mom can be a bit... overprotective."

"Is she always like this?" you ask, still reeling from the encounter.

"Unfortunately, yes," he admits. "Especially lately, with the town's Founding Festival coming up. She's been under a lot of stress." He rubs the back of his neck sheepishly before continuing, "I guess I should let you know she's the mayor of Willow Grove, so the responsibility of overseeing the whole event falls on her."

"Your mom is the mayor?" Your jaw goes a bit slack. Having his mom dislike you is one thing, but when she runs the whole town? You try to shake off the lingering unease, focusing instead on the warmth of Desmond's wing as he returns to your side and rests his hand on your shoulder.

"Yeah," he chuckles nervously. "She's a bit of a local celebrity around here. I'm really sorry for how she acted towards you. I promise, it's not personal."

"Thanks," you say, managing a small smile. "I appreciate you sticking up for me."

"Of course," Desmond replies, his gentle eyes meeting yours. "You're important to me, and I don't want my mom's behavior to drive you away."

The sincerity in his voice makes your heart flutter, but there's also a pang of disappointment. When he had introduced you as "just a friend" earlier, it had stung a little, even though you understood why he did it. You wonder if that's all you can be to him when Samara is around – just a friend.

Desmond seems to sense your uncertainty, and hesitantly reaches out to take your hand. "Hey," he says softly, "if you're up for it, I'd love to take you on a real date soon. Somewhere outside of this dusty old library."

"Really?" The hopefulness in your chest flares up at his words.

"Absolutely," he confirms, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. "I want to show you the town and get to know you even better."

"Then I'd love that," you reply, feeling a mix of emotions, but still hopeful. Willow Grove seems like a town just magical enough to make this work, no matter how much warming up Desmond's mom needs before she gives up the cold shoulder.