#eventually. god it's really tricky to line something like that up with the height difference

[vimbry]

it just hit me that I'm always praising the johns' goofy selfies, and then at the shows, they stop to encourage everyone to turn their cameras to front facing and turn away from the stage so they can photobomb everyone's pics. finally. we can all be part of a goofy selfie.

[hatsukeii]

Okay so regarding the thing I reblogged from @saturnmoon last Sunday >:)))))

I thought it’d fit better as a scenario instead of hcs, so apologies if this isn’t what you wanted exactly-

Thank you, daddy// Tsukishima x reader

Word count: 1700+

Warnings: None, tiny bit suggestive at the end, but I’m gonna let your imagination do the job.

Summary: Questionable names should stay in the bedroom.

Your face burns scarlet as you walk through the empty streets, white box in hand and a very, very flustered Tsukishima next to you.

“I’m sorry, okay? I was joking!”

No reply. All you get is a side glance behind his steel black glasses.

How did you get into this situation, you may ask?

Well.

It all started when Tsukishima decided to get the two of you matching headphones.

You see, Tsukishima’s pretty subtle when it comes to affection. He doesn’t want people viewing him as soft, or as Nishinoya says, a simp. He shows the absolute bare minimum amount of affection, pda never happens, and he doesn’t like to talk about his private life with classmates. Some may argue that he dates you out of boredom or pity, and doesn’t give a flying shit about how you feel about him. Others might not even know of your relationship. However, regardless of what everyone else says, the two of you care for each other deeply. You were like a bunch of helium balloons in his hand, flying as high as you can, seeking out opportunities, dreaming of possibilities, bringing up his spirits whenever he was down. In return, Tsukishima was the one holding you down, bringing you back to Earth whenever you were too carried away. Contrasting personalities mixed to form an amazing relationship. It was quite literally the definition of opposites attract. 

However, the two fo you are very different when it comes to your views on normal things couples do. You don’t like being cheesy. At all. Just the thought of someone making a grand confession, or asking you out in an extravagant and crazy way in front of people was enough to make you want to shove a finger down your throat and retch. On the other hand, although Tsukshima doesn’t show much affection towards you around his friends, he’s secretly a big fat romantic dork. The only reason why he didn’t confess to you in front of the entire school was probably because he wasn’t about to sacrifice his dignity and ruin his image. He’d always see couples in the hallways sporting matching accessories. Whether it be promise rings, or keychains, or even glasses, and secretly think it’s adorable. Knowing how you dislike cheesy and cliche moves however, he holds back and keeps those thoughts in his deepest fantasies, never to be seen by anyone else but himself.

Anyways, back to your tricky situation. When I said he shows the absolute bare minimum amount of affection, that means that he only rarely holds your hand in places with people that know the two of you, almost never kisses you in public, and at last, but not least, rarely gives you gifts. He always thought his affection for you was enough, and it wasn’t like you’ve ever gotten him any presents either. He simply didn’t care about materialistic gifts. You don’t really mind that he doesn’t get you gifts either. As long as he treats you for food, you’re all good. Once in a while, you’d try to treat Tsukishima, but he would never let you pay for him. He would always reach the cashier first and pay for whatever he was getting. He didn’t want you to pay for his stuff, not when you didn’t want him to pay for yours either. That would be unfair. It was a weird relationship, to be frank. Not having mementos of your partner wasn’t a usual thing. 

It wasn’t until his headphones broke, did he finally succumb to the idea of matching with you. He’s been using his headphones for years without any problems. He wore them to school every day, used them while doing homework, and has slept with them on at some point. It was no surprise the speakers would eventually give out. When they broke, Tsukishima was beyond miserable. These were his headphones. His most prized possession. He treasured them so much, it was almost heartbreaking to have to replace them. Not even you understood how much they meant to him. You were beyond confused when he called you at night, crying. You thought he got hurt or something, when in reality, it was just his headphones breaking. If someone asked, you could still repeat the entire phone conversation word for word. You thought it was both hilarious and a bit heart wrenching, to say the least. You promised to bring him headphone shopping today, even insisting on paying for them, which he immediately refused to let you. Instead, once he got to the store, he basically zoomed to the headphone section, looking through it excitedly. When his eyes landed on a pair of black and white headphones, he swiftly grabbed two of them, shoving one of them into your hands.

What?

“Hm? You’re getting two? That’s really expensive, plus a pair will suffice for like another five years!”

“No, dumbass, this is for you, I’m just making you hold onto it while I grab my wallet.

You looked down at the box in your hands, then back up at your boyfriend, eyes wide in disbelief. He was getting you a gift? For the first time in the few months you’ve been dating for? And you haven’t given him anything at all? Ever? There was no way. You knew your boyfriend like the palm of your hand. He would never just buy you a gift, let alone such an expensive one. To say you were shocked would be an extreme understatement. His face was dusted a light shade of pink that was almost unnoticeable in the dark store, where the only light sources were the LED lights that were set to white.

“Kei, you’re for real right now? I don’t want you to waste your money for me-”

“I want to match with you. I love you and I don’t like that it seems like I don’t put in effort at all.”

Tsukishima was now a blushing, flustered mess. He wasn’t even able to look you in the eyes. His heart was racing, anticipating your reaction. Did you hate the idea? Were you freaked out? Grossed out, even? What if you hated the thought and decided to break it off with him? What if he just screwed up big time and embarrassed himself? What if-

“OH MY GOD! KEI SWEETIE THAT’S SO CUTE! THANK YOU SO MUCH I LOVE YOU! I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU’RE ACTUALLY INTO MATCHING!”

You went silent for a moment, before continuing.

“But... I feel bad. I’ve never gotten you anything, and here you are, gifting me a pair of expensive ass headphones.”

Tsukishima’s blush faded, a tiny smile gracing his face.

“The only thing you have to do is wear them with me. Promise me that.”

Sending him a cheeky smile, you linked your pinkie with his playfully.

“Promise.”

Pinkies still linked, the two of you headed towards the cashier, where a line of people were waiting to check out. You continued to show your gratitude towards your boyfriend, hugging his arm and cuddling it like a teddy bear. His heart melted at the sight of you being an absolute cutie. This is the most pda he’s received in public. Maybe it wasn’t as bad as he thought it was. He could try it out sometime. Poking your nose jokingly, he smiled, mocking you playfully.

“I’m getting you a pair of headphones shorty, can I get another thank you? It was cute when you said it just now.”

Smirking at his subtle joke regarding your height, you retorted, puckering up your lips.

“Thank you dadddddyy~”

The store went silent.

Tsukishima’s mouth hung wide open, his eyes frantically looking around as his face went bright red. Customers stopped what they were doing, some of them in the middle of paying for their products. From the corner of your eyes, you could see a child’s ears and eyes being covered by his mom, who was glaring daggers towards the two of you. A couple of old men sent judgemental looks your way, silently discussing how teenagers this day are corrupted and unreliable. The cashiers were clearly shocked, staring at the two of you, brows either furrowed, or raised. The store was so quiet you could probably hear a pin drop. You let go of Tsukishima’s arm instantly, letting your arms fall, the headphones still in hand. Recovering from the incident, customers continued to chatter amongst themselves,  cashiers continued to check items out, however you and Tsukishima stayed dead silent. The tension in the store could have been cut with a knife. Customers were avoiding your gazes, shuffling along towards the exit as soon as their products were in the bag.

“I definitely said that too loudly didn’t I.”

Tsukishima didn’t say a word, his face still crimson as he tightly shut his mouth, pursing his lips.

Approaching the cashier, he grabbed both boxes, not saying a word as he handed them to the cashier along with the money. Once that was done, he shoved one of the boxes into your arms, grabbing your vacant hand and dragging you out of the store, legs moving as quick as they could.

So now, you’re stuck in an awkward ass situation, with a flustered, silent Tsukishima. He hasn’t said a word since the two of you left the store, and that’s making you feel all sorts of ways.

His house is mere miles away. You can see the lights in the living room illuminating the area around it. Speeding up, you struggle to catch up with him, your shorter legs starting to sprint desperately.

Pulling you into the house, he slams the door behind him, locking it.

You don’t even have the chance to catch your breath, when a hand tickles your neck, before gripping on it tightly and pushing you harshly, your back forcefully hitting the wall behind you as the impact makes you hiss in pain. The headphones in your hand drop to the ground, toppling over. You open your eyes, only to be met with Tsukishima’s shit eating smirk.

“K-Kei?”

Forcing you into a harsh kiss, he assaults your lips, biting and sucking occasionally. You grasp at his hand, panting and gasping for air, but gave up as you came to the realisation that you enjoyed this. You enjoyed being choked by him.

The blond chuckled at your struggling figure, eyes going dark.

“If you really wanted to call me daddy, you could’ve told me long ago sweetheart.”

You were in for a long, long night, and honestly? You weren’t complaining.

Tags:

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I hate myself lmao this is TERRIBLE HELP-

Okay imma sleep now gn kiddos

[spookilyfingergunsoutofexistence]

I’m feline fine (Sanders sides)

Sanders sides spiderverse au fic based on @sugarglider9603’s au. Hope you enjoy!

Tw: kind of sensory overload, fear of a loved one getting hurt.

It’s a thing??? Not much plot just an idea that became a lead up to a fight.

____________________

"Alright. Last thing! Remember that grammatical mistakes do not make someone a villain and you cannot punch them for it." All eyes trail to Logan, "And! If a villain is already down and they make a grammatical mistake it is not okay to punch the correct usage out of them." All eyes stare at Logan, "And finally! For god sakes Logan. If someone insults Patton you cannot punch them! You have super strength. That hurts!" Thomas finishes off his speech, all eyes staring at Logan.

"It was one time!"

Swiftly ignoring Logan's outburst, Virgil raises his hand, "What if the bad guy insults Patton?"

"Then by all means. Punch them in the face. Now are you ready kids?" Thomas grins, "Aye aye captain!" Patton cheers, a bright smile taking over his face after spending quite some time frowning and concerned for his friends and their seemingly violent natures. "I can't hear yooou-"

"We're not doing this." Virgil hastily interrupted. "You're no fuuuuuuuuun!" Thomas groaned before finally pulling down his mask. "Aw Virgil! You ruined dad's fun!" Roman complained, poking his side. Virgil yelped and jumped back sticking to the wall not as gracefully as he would have hoped. Logan stifled a laugh at his best friends antics whilst Patton giggled softly. Thomas fondly rolled his eyes, an action hidden by his rainbow weaver mask before climbing out of his attics window and onto the roof, "Alright! Patrolling time."

Soon all the kids had popped up wearing their costumes, "Can you say that again but in your story time voice?" Roman pleaded and god- Thomas was so weak for these kids. They were like his family and he knew behind that mask Roman was doing his best attempt at puppy dog eyes. He always caved for his kiddos. "Alright buddy, Patro—"

"Patrolling time!" Roman exclaimed dramatically, his body posed as such to create a movie like effect. His hands on his hips and his anime-like scarf blowing gently in the autumn wind. "Ok, elasti-hurl. We get it. Now can we go?" Roman gasped in mock offence and turned a suit covered finger towards Virgil, "That's my thing! Tho- Rainbow Weaver! Tell him! That's my thing!" Roman stomped his foot down, Virgil was certain he would be pouting if that mask wasn't covering his annoyingly perfect face. "Ok. So I have a plan. We're going to split up to patrol different parts of the city. I would go alone. Roman would be with Virgil and Logan would be with Patton. Sound good?" Virgil scoffed, "Yeah like that's not how every horror movie starts." He continues in a mocking voice, "Let's split up to find the dangerous people!" He raised an eyebrow at Thomas, daring him to say Virgil was wrong. Logan snickered in the background, purely here for the show- plus working with Patton all evening sounded satisfactory. "What's the worst that could happen? ("Oh he's done it now.") I mean really. You're all trained. You'll be fine."

"That's awfully ominous of you. Really setting us up for some bad karma here Thomas." Virgil was not backing down apparently. Sure, this was technically their first ever patrol without Thomas by their sides but really, what could go wrong? Eventually after a little (a lot of) coaxing from Thomas, they all set off to patrol. All going different directions. Thomas loved the spider-kids, don't get him wrong, but sometimes it was nice to have a bit of peace and quiet. Readying up his web slinger he walked to the back of his roof before running across the tiles, feeling the air whipping against his face as he leapt off of the roof to go do what he loves. The web latched on to a tall building and his arm grabbed the strong matter. He swung with ease towards an unknown location. Just him and the city he loved. Each swing increased in momentum. Each leap, grab and roll left a searing pain in his muscles that was both burning and yet exhilarating. A feeling he had felt so much through the years and had grown to love. Screw working out when the entire work was your jungle gym. He perched atop stark tower with a massive grin, the view never got old. The experience never got old. It filled him with a thrill he never before knew he was craving. His line of work was dangerous but it was also an escape from reality. It was freedom and power. It was like flying, or walking on the clouds- the stuff of dreams. He gently pulled up his mask and let his senses flood him. His eyes slowly shut and by doing so his mind opened. He could hear every noise in the city. Children's laughter, the clinking of glasses, the beeping of cars, the whirring of expresso machines late into the evening rush. Soon his mind was absorbed with MJ. The beautiful ginger locks flowing gently across snowy white skin. The assortment of freckles dotted far and wide- showstopping sprinkles scattered on top of the perfect cupcake. Each unique and beautiful like snowflakes. Geez, Thomas was hopelessly gay for that man. His boyfriend. His boyfriend! He could here the coffee pouring, trickling like a river stream. A soothing melody that only Thomas could really hear. Flowing and flowing until it stopped. Abruptly.

And Thomas opened his eyes, only for a second but his black and white world was in technicolour now. Bright lights blaring and that one thought in his head screaming. Something is wrong. Something is very very wrong. Suddenly, the swings weren't as graceful, the city wasn't as beautiful and the world was too bright. Too loud. His aching muscles couldn't get him to MJ fast enough and he needed to check. He needed to see that his world was fine.

It wasn't long until he was swinging to a lamppost, perched on the top watching over the coffee shop with hawk like eyes. He scanned every inch of that shop for abnormalities. Watched each customer, each member of staff. Thomas locked eyes with MJ from across the street. An unreadable expression crossing his face. Thomas knows he hadn't revealed his identity to MJ so he just didn't understand the look at all. He'd never seen MJ with such an expression. Was it shock? Fear maybe? Thomas didn't know until the door to the shop opened. Thomas could hear the familiar chime. He could hear the sharp intake of breath from MJ and the realisation hit him like a flood. That look was a plea. 'Danger' it screamed. A word Thomas was all too acquainted with. MJ was in danger. That person entering the shop was dangerous.

Now of course there was no proof of this at all. This person seemed harmless. The hood covering their face was quite strange but it was raining outside so it made sense in a way. He had no proof. No proof but MJ's intuition. Thomas trusted MJ. He was incredibly smart and had a sort of sixth sense about these things. He also always managed to get himself into tricky situations. His bombshell barista. Thomas (Or Rainbow Weaver) hopped down from the lamppost and walked into the coffee shop as casually as he could in his costume. MJ was serving the hooded customer with his normal fiery eyes and bold smile but below the protective shell Thomas could see the shaking, he could hear the slightly higher frequency. This person was definitely the thing MJ feared. Thomas stood behind them in the queue and waited. Eventually, the person slowly turned. He had the face of a man Thomas was well acquainted with. A man Thomas greeted every day in the mirror. It was himself. Of course Thomas knew this was a fake but how did MJ know? Just from a glance how could MJ tell? He stepped toward the front and whispered, "Are you ok, sir?" to MJ.

"Easy tiger. I'm feline fine, thanks babe."

Did MJ flirt with everyone?

"I can see those cogs whirring behind the mask hun. That's not you over there. He's a fantastic copy- really must of studied your mannerisms from your videos.”

“H-How did you..?”

“Same height, same size, same smell.” MJ listed off with a grin, “Plus I’ve watched the interviews. You talk to me like no one else. You talk to me like Thomas does.” MJ gives a toothy grin and pops a chocolate chip in his mouth, “Now go get that imposter, tiger.”

Thomas grins, turning to go take down Thomas Slanders but first he takes a long look at MJ.

“I love you.” Thomas whispers, smiling warmly.

“I love you too.. Rainbow Weaver.”

[efnewsservice]

April 12, 2018

Lana Parrilla interview pre 7.17

This week's episode of Once Upon a Time is special for a lot of reasons, chief among them being it's the first time series star Lana Parrilla will trade in her acting hat for a director's chair.

"Chosen" will be the 17th episode of Season 7, and it will predominantly focus on Zelena (Rebecca Mader), who will be the latest witch in Hyperion Heights to be targeted by the infamous Candy Killer. It won't be the first time she's come up against Hansel (Nathan Parsons) though, since the fairytale flashbacks will reveal that her first encounter with the duo went "awry."

TV Guide spoke to Parrilla about her first time directing as well as the benefits and challenges of making her debut on a show she's been a part of for seven years.

Since you had to spend most of your time behind the camera, will we be seeing less of Regina on screen this week? Lana Parrilla: Absolutely. You will see me, but you won't see a lot of me.

Was it difficult to juggle acting in scenes and directing them at the same time? Parrilla: It was slightly tricky, you know, because you have to kind of switch gears. You have to be present as the actor and try not to think about what is or isn't working as the director because you're wearing the hat as an actor. But then we would step off after a few takes because I would do two or three takes in a row and then I would watch playback. They would provide the monitor, I would watch playback to see what we just shot, and then I could sort of critique from there. So it was a little bit of a longer process than I would have liked, but it was necessary and there really is no other way to do it. In fact, I found it very helpful that they set it up that way.

One other [thing] that was really helpful was that all my scenes were predominantly with Rebecca, so I met with her over the weekend and we would talk about the scenes and rehearse them. Any sort of notes or ideas that I had for her character, I would make sure to give them to her in advance. So when we were actually filming our scenes, we could just be free and play and act and not worry about directing.

How much of a help was it to have your first directing experience be with a crew you've worked with for seven years already? Parrilla: Oh my god, it was like jazz. When you all play your set together, and you're all seasoned players, and you've been working together for X amount of months and years, it's like second nature. It was probably the biggest gift the show could have given me - the love and support that I've had over the years from my crew, cast, my producers, etc. To have my directorial debut be on a show that I can call home was one of the best experiences of my life... Often you hear that TV is the producer's medium, but they really gave me a lot of creative freedom, and I'm grateful for that.

Did you want to try anything new that you hadn't seen on the show before, or did you want to stick closely to the formula you knew worked? Parrilla: No, actually I tried a lot of different things. I did a lot of new things that I don't think directors that have been on the show did, and they were very open to my ideas... I think what really was different were some of my shots. Some of my shots are very different in certain locations — like we'll take this wall down, shoot from here or shoot through this fireplace. We've never done that before... There's that spiral staircase in Roni's that we've never really explored, and I threw a camera up there, and it turned out to be a really cool shot, and a really cool way to open one of the acts.

What was the biggest difference you noticed in directing the cast versus being their scene partner? Parrilla: I just felt more comfortable actually in a weird way. First of all, I'm really close to my cast, but I felt really comfortable to talk to them about the acting part of it. I think that they were all very excited as well, so it was like a very collaborative experience for all of us.

As a director I guess I can say it felt very comfortable and natural. Acting, sometimes it's really just about oneself — you're focused on your character, and you are focused on the other person and what's happening in the scene, etcetera, but as a director you're really thinking about everyone's perspective, and you're really telling everyone's story. It's so collective. It was fun to kind of have my hands in everyone's parts, like, "Try this, this way, and if you say it or do it this way, I know it's going to affect the other actor in a way that I need in order to tell their story." It felt very comfortable — I keep saying comfortable and natural, but those are the two words that come to mind.

Are there any other shows besides Once Upon a Time that you'd like to try directing? Parrilla: There are. I need to explore them more. I would love to direct something back in Vancouver as well because I'm already missing my friends... I'd like to maybe direct one of the shows that film up there. I think that would be a lot of fun for me. But I'm also excited to — I don't think I'm ready for any sitcoms or comedies, but I would love to do something kind of along our lines a little bit, like fairytales, supernatural, sci-fi. I think that could be fun just to get my feet wet a little bit further.

Eventually, maybe in a year or so, I would really like to tell just like a life story, you know? Like real human to human life stories that don't involve magic and fireballs or dragons or anything like that. I think because I just stepped out of that world and because I'm so familiar with it, I think it would behoove me to get a little more experience under my belt in that genre world before I step out and try something else.

[discordandglory-blog]

Cursed || Cat and Leo

Cat tries to keep her brother safe, but it seems fate has another idea.

The last thing that Cat had been expecting was contact from Leo. But gods had she missed him. She would even admit it. She had the perfect place for them. A small house by the lake that was hidden from view unless you knew exactly where to look. As she paced the deserted Garden of Bacchus, she tried to keep calm. The war had all but ground to a halt at this point with the effect of the curses all but crippling both the Greeks and the Romans. The Romans had come no closer to securing the cure to these curses and Cat worried that she wouldn’t be able to help her brother. Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to settle on a bench and wait for her twin. Nerves usually resulted in her cleaning a weapon, but she thought that considering how things had been left that it might be better to just leave the weapons out of it for now. Finally she spotted him and rose to her feet, moving towards him cautiously she wondered if maybe this was some kind of trap and her paranoia started to kick in. With a hand checking her weapons she called out to him. “Leo?”

New Rome was not looking like the New Rome Leo knew. They really weren’t exaggerating when they said that there was a war going on. He moved as carefully and quietly he could through the city, not knowing when someone would be around. Getting to the Gardens with a small pack on him, he breathed a sigh of relief. At least he was closer to where Cat was now, though his hand didn’t leave the sword hilt that he had on his side. He moved as silently as he could, before he eventually heard Cat call out to him. “I’m here. It’s just me right now,” He said cautiously as he moved closer to her. It hadn’t been much time since he had seen her, well, seen her four years ago. That whole thing still made his brain hurt. She looked good though, healthy at least. “You’re good then? You said no curse, but you’ve been fighting a war.”

The closer that Leo got to her, the more that she was struck by just how much younger he looked. Cat knew that her brother had never exactly looked old, but he had filled out and broadened a little. The thing that really struck her was the face that was clear of worry. The last year hadn’t exactly been kind to them. Disaster after disaster had struck and now they were in the midst of another crisis. Without thinking Cat threw her arms tightly around him, she was much shorter than either of her brothers and so she literally had to jump to get to his shoulders, but damn it felt good. “You weren’t lying about a curse,” she said quietly as she took a step back to give him a proper once over again, “we will put things back to rights I promise.” At his question her mind flashed back to the various injuries that had been inflicted on her over the war and she banished them all but instantly. “Don’t worry about me, I can take care of myself and the Greeks always underestimate me for my height.” She smiled at him again. How are you?”

It wasn’t as if Cat looked older than she was, but there was a certain way she held herself that felt different to Leo. She didn’t seem exactly as she did when he last remembered, though he imagined that he didn’t to her either. He held her close to him, not truly understanding the feeling of lose that had occurred between them, but understanding the need she had to hold him. “Tomorrow you’ll have to explain everything to me again, so I hope you’re ready for that.” He assumed that he was losing years rather quickly and he’d likely wake up younger again. Hopefully not six or seven years old though. He ruffled her hair with a slight grin,“You certainly made your height your greatest disguise. No one thinks you’re as badass as you are.”

Pausing momentarily, Cat almost told him off for messing with her hair, but then she remembered that this was her brother who had literally come back to her. At that point she decided that it was probably better if she were to avoid shouting at him over her hair. But the action took her back to the good old days when her father had taken her along to meetings with Leo. His friends would scoop her up and place a kiss on her cheek before mussing her hair. The memories weren’t exactly painful. Yet they weren’t the easiest things to experience. “I’m ready to do anything that you need,” she promised, “but we need to get going before someone else turns up. We’ll come back for Bobbi once you’re settled.” She took a deep shuddering breath, and considered telling him the truth. The worst that would happen is that he’d simply forget it anyway. “I’ve considered lining my trousers with stilts, but they’re a bit tricky to constantly walk around in.”

Leo didn’t doubt that Bobbi was telling the truth about him and his siblings, but it felt so hard to really believe it when he was so happy to see his sister. There couldn’t possibly be something that she could do that would make things so horrible between them. They weren’t people who could break so easily. Her words meant a lot to him, but he couldn’t help but think that he was quite the task to undertake at the moment. “I’m ready to go then, where are we headed?” He was rather sure that they had safe houses around the city, but he didn’t know if they were being used anymore. “It might be hard to fight in them as well, but it would be a cool skill to have.” Fiddling with his strap, he looked at Cat nervously. “How is everyone else? Jax, Bella, Gus, Ella?”

Pausing as she prepared to go and get on their way, Cat looked at Leo and it finally sunk in that he wasn’t lying. He didn’t know what had happened. He didn’t know that Gus was dead. A pit formed in her stomach and she considered lying to him but decided better of it. “Ella and Bella and Jax are all fine but I’ve got some bad news about Gus…” she sighed and pressed her fingers to her temple for a moment before taking a deep breath, “the long and short of it doesn’t exactly matter but he’s passed now. We built a memorial to him that I’ll show you when you’re better…” hot tears stung her eyes as she remembered her inability to save him. She just prayed he didn’t ask about Callum. Swallowing, she tightened her straps on her back before setting out through the city. “I’m going to take you through the tunnels, it’s the fastest way there. It’s a safe house even Dad and Jax don’t know about, I purchased it early last year, a little getaway just for me. But it’ll work. You’ll be safe.”

Leo felt all the air suddenly leave his chest. Gus was dead. He was a kid how did he even die? He didn’t even want to ask. He nodded, a little bombstruck. “That’s bad,” He muttered. “Let’s not tell me that anymore. Tomorrow let’s not tell me.” At least he had that, he didn’t haven’t rehear about it every day. Until he was better, if he was better. He hoped that he would be better soon. “I’d like to see it someday. How… How are you doing with that?” He could tell she was getting emotional, which made his chest hurt. “Does Jax know I’ll be staying there? He hasn’t really responded back to me.”

Pausing for a moment, Cat nodded. “Fine, I just … I didn’t want to lie to you.” She was trying to make things work, she really truly loved Leo even if he had betrayed her and broken her heart. Yet this Leo wasn’t quite that Leo. He hadn’t done anything to her and he didn’t even hate her like the other one. He didn’t think that she was a monster. Everyone had looked at her differently after what had happened to Callum. But Jax and Leo were the worst. She’d had no choice, why didn’t people understand that she was only doing what must be done. She got her hands dirty so that others did not have to. “Things aren’t easy,” she replied, “but we struggle on.” She found the grate in one of the corners of the garden and winched it up. Slipping down a ladder, she pulled out two flashlights and handed one to Leo. “I haven’t told him, I won’t unless you want me to. But I didn’t know what you’d want … so I decided to just keep quiet about it.”

“I get that. I just… I don’t think it’ll get easier as I get younger. I can’t imagine that at fourteen I’ll take it even remotely as well as I am right now.” Leo wasn’t going to lie, he wasn’t taking it great, he was basically ignoring the whole situation, but he supposed that it was the best he could do currently. “Hopefully things will be over soon. War isn’t good for anyone.” People were going to die and that was never good for anyone. Kids were going to die in a civil war. He nodded taking the flashlight, thankful that she giving him the choice in this. “I’ll let him know. He should know that I’m around.”

“I agree, this isn’t easy and we’ve got to do everything that we can to minimize the difficulty of this for you…” Cat paused and tried to imagine what having a fourteen year old Leo back with her would be like. She couldn’t imagine that it would be as fun as when she was fourteen too. Right now she would give anything just to have regular Leo back with her. Pausing for a moment as she set out into the tunnels, Cat was certain she heard a noise, but when she looked in the direction of the sound there was nothing but darkness. The beam of her flashlight cut through the darkness and led the way, and she followed through the twisting tunnels. She was glad that Leo was here, it made the journey more bearable. “Do whatever you think is right.” Pausing for a moment longer, she raised an eyebrow as she her the sound of something wet on a paving stone before whirling around to find nothing. “You don’t see anything right?” She was just being paranoid.

“At least, I’ll be real cute when I’m five again. Though, I was a really picky eater. When I get that young we probably shouldn’t even try to explain this right? It would be too much.” Leo couldn’t imagine that a five year old version of him would even understand the concept of curses or magic. It would probably be too much for a kid. He swept his flashlight back and forth, his eyes narrowing but not seeing anything noticeable. He shook his head,“I don’t see anything, but… I don’t know, something doesn’t feel right? Maybe I’m just paranoid because of the curse.”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it I guess,” Cat replied really hoping that they’d have worked out a way to make this better before then. However she was starting to become more convinced that they weren’t the only ones down in these tunnels alone. There was no way that it could be monsters as this was New Rome, however with the curses flying around she wasn’t convinced that it couldn’t be something else out there in the darkness. “Come on, let’s just get out of here and then we won’t have to worry about this anymore,” she replied, spotting the ladder that would lead to the lake and then it was only a few miles to their location. “Gentlemen first this time,” she said indicating that he should take the ladder up first whilst she double checked behind them.

“Hopefully we won’t get to it anytime soon. I like being an adult. I can do things for myself which is definitely nice.” Leo told her with a slight smile. The ladder felt a little straight out of a horror movie, but Leo was pretty sure that was just him being paranoid. He never liked things like tunnels anyways, so it would make sense that he was just being hyper vigilant. He didn’t mind going first but he sent Cat a teasing look as he started to climbed,”Sure, now you wanna be super polite and let me go first.”

Laughing at his reply, Cat felt a smile tug at her lips. She hadn’t realised how much she had regretted what happened between the two of them, would they ever be able to solve their problems if things went back to normal? The meandering drip of water filled the background. As she watched Leo climb, she took one last look down the tunnel before stepping onto the first rung of the ladder and beginning to haul herself up towards the circle of light pouring into the tunnel, she was no more then a few rungs up when she felt something sticky wrap around her leg and tug it. Whipping her head around she looked down and spotted a thick pink tentacle wrapped firmly around her ankle. A second tug later and she went tumbling down towards the bottom of the tunnel, hitting the floor with a painful crunch. Fuck.

It was terrifying to think that somehow, Cat and Leo had become so broken that they weren’t speaking anymore. He had made his sister cry, she had made him cry, that had never broken them before. He couldn’t think of a world where either did something so wrong that they “hated” each other. He heard her go down and without hesitation, he was going back down the ladder to her. He pulled out his sword, whipping his head back and forth trying to understand what was happening. He saw the tentacle and swung at it, grazing it slightly. “Cat! Are you hurt?

As Leo’s boots squelched into the damp mud that ran across the bottom of the tunnel, Cat slowly rose and wiped mud from her face before grunting. “I’m going to have a really nasty bruise but I’ll be fine,” she reached to her belt and without hesitation her dagger and revolver were in hand and raised. Ready for whatever threats may come their way. Her nocturnal vision assisted her in seeing in the darkness, and without it she very well may have misestimated their opponent. They appeared to be some poor soul afflicted with a terrible curse. Their limbs had transformed into a mass of tentacles and their face was now a grinding maw of teeth that gnashed towards them. “However, I think we may have a bigger problem then my bruises.”

Whatever was in front of the two of them was nothing Leo had ever seen before. Monsters weren’t supposed to be around here, but this didn’t seem like a monster that he knew from myths. “What the fuck is that thing?” He growled out, swinging his sword out again as the monster whipped another tentacle towards him, his sword clipping it once again. “We put it down and then we go up, we don’t know if there are more of it down here.”

Normally Cat was a fan of caution, but when it came to Leo’s safety she wasn’t about to waste time trying to be careful when this thing was already threatening their way of life. “I think it is someone who has been cursed,” she said as she sprung to her feet and managed to smash the tentacles away from her for a moment. “I don’t want to have to kill someone who may be innocent, but it doesn’t look like we’ve got any other choice.” Grasping her weapon, she thought back to their training together and looked around their surroundings in hopes that there would be some advantage that would allow them to beat their enemy. “Any clever ideas?” she asked as the tentacle thing began to circle back around.

Leo frowned, the idea that this was someone who was cursed made him feel pretty terrible about the whole situation. Yet, they were faced with a pretty big decision; them or it. “Think you could knock it out, if I got you over the tentacles?” It was probably safer just to kill it, but there could be someone they know in that body, trapped deep down. He’d hate for them to die because of their decision not to try. “We could do our jump?” They certainly had quite a bit of combos between them, but it was fun and it made training more interesting.

Looking at Leo, Cat huffed and slid her revolvers back into their holsters before pulling a long dagger with a blunt pommel from her sheath. “Only for you,” she said with a frown like thunder as she prepared for the jump. “I’m ready whenever you are,” she said as the tentacle monster began making another pass at them, apparently having regained its composure. She thought back to all of the times that they had done this before and although it had been a long time since she’d fought alongside her twin, she was sure that it would feel just the same as ever. As he knitted his fingers together, she charged forwards and leaped at the monster, sailing clean over it for a moment before a tentacle whipped out and wrapped around her, sending her slamming painfully into the mud once more.

“Well, fuck,” Leo groaned as he watched Cat get slammed into the ground. He had really hoped that he wouldn’t have to try hurt whoever this poor person was. He didn’t enjoy killing anything, even a monster. Especially now that he had the idea in his head that it could potentially be a person inside that monster. He gripped his sword in his hand and resigned himself, any jovialness he had previously held, leaving him. It was like this in any fight he was in. He’d often fall into a seriousness that was unlike him when things got truly dire. “We’re just going to have to go for it then,” He told Cat as he grabbed the monsters attention again with far more threatening and fatal hits going for it.

“Yeah that wasn’t ideal,” Cat had managed to get over the monster, but now she and Leo surrounded it and the only way that they were going to get out of it was to deal with the monster and she wasn’t sure that they had a chance in hell of dealing with this non-lethally. Drawing her pistols, she took aim at the monster and fired a warning shot just above it, driving it towards the slopped walls. “I’m going to try and injure it enough that it won’t be able to fight, but that requires it to hold still that long and I’m far from convinced that is going to happen … so just watch my back and get involved when you feel like I need it. I trust your judgement.”

Leo shook his head at his sister,“I’m more of a close combat fighter. I should be jumping in there, distracting it and trying to hold it long enough that you can get a shot in.” He might not show it off often, to the point where people sometimes forgot, but he was an amazing hand to hand fighter. If anyone was going to get the monster to be still enough for a moment, it would be him, not Cat. Especially when her plan had her going in there and him trying to weave around her with a sword. More dangerous, but maybe easier with a bullet. “I’ll get stay away from that whole teeth situation and we should be good.”

“I know how good a fighter you are brother,” Cat replied with a roll of her eyes, “that is why I plan on standing back here with my revolvers and shooting at it whilst you, the big strong man that you are, take it down to pain town.” She winced at the cliche that had just spilled out of her mouth, but it was too late to take that back now. “Whatever you do,” she said aiming the pistol and opening fire, watching an imperial gold bullet cut through a tentacle with a sickening bang and hiss, “make sure that you stay away from the entire teeth situation because who the fuck knows where this things mouth has been.”

“Did you honestly just utter the words ‘pain town’? Embarrassing.” Leo teased her with a grin, before jumping back from a tentacle that sailed toward him. With impressive speed for his size, he managed to get out of the tentacles reach, though he was closer to the teeth. “Based on how it smells, at least one diaper has been in this thing’s mouth.” He side lightly, though his voice was strained as he started to attempt to wrestle with the monster. He needed to pinn or at least hold the thing still for a moment.

“Is this really the time Leo?!” Cat snapped as she suppressed the laughter that had bubbled in her stomach at her brother’s comment. Taking aim, doing her best not to hit her brother with a celestial bullet, she fired again and was rewarded by seeing more orangey-purpley gore splatter across the walls of the sewers. Wiping mud from her face, she took aim again, firing once more and wincing at the deafening echo of the gunshot ringing across the and around them. Swallowing, Cat tried to get a good look at the monster. “Can you stop playing with your food please?” she called to Leo.

The thing had muscles and even though Leo was tall and strong, it seemed whatever this thing was was stronger. “It’s the only way I have fun though! Why would they make things like goldfish if you weren’t made to play with it?” He replied back, though his breath was heavier as he finally got a good hold of the monster. His arms wrapping underneath where their arms had once been and behind the head to make the monster at least a little less wiggly.

Watching her brother fight filled Cat with a familiar dread which she inevitably felt whenever she had to watch someone that she cared about go into battle. That was one of the reasons that she limited her connections so much. You couldn’t get hurt if you didn’t have anyone who could hurt you. At least that was the working theory. “Whatever you say,” he said with a laugh before taking aim and hitting the tentacle monster with shots to the knees. “I don’t want to waste all my ammo on this thing,” she grunted as she drew a knife and approached, “do you want me to knock it out or kill it?” she asked, knowing that Leo had always been a bit more sensitive than her.

Leo understood why people loved fighting, adrenaline was a feeling that could not be described. Winning a fight was even better. “There’s a person in here, Cat,” He said, his answer seemingly obvious to himself. “I would prefer we don’t kill someone we could know,” He grunted in the effort it took to keep the thing still as it wrestled against him. “Please don’t shoot me though, I don’t need anymore scars.”

Grunting in irritation at Leo’s need to aspire to a moral absolute that was not necessarily objective. However Cat did not have time to debate ethics with her twin, in fact time was probably the single commodity that they did not have in abundance. Money couldn’t bring time to a stop anymore then it could stop the sun from rising in the East and setting in the West. “Just hold it still for a second longer,” she grunted before moving forward and striking the monster at the rough area that she expected the monster’s temple, “if this doesn’t work I’m killing it,” she said as she hit it again.

Leo knew that others looked at him differently because of his need to do what he thought was best. He was, he liked to think at least, a pacifist. Which was difficult considering he was, apparently, in a war. Still, life was precious, every life was precious. He tightened his grip, pulling the monster closer to himself to get it to still even further. “Fine with me, I just need us to try before we just kill it.” It wasn’t really fine with him, but he couldn’t argue his way out of this one.

As the stock of Cat’s revolver crunched into the side of its temple and it slumped to the ground in Leo’s grasp. “Fortunately,” she said wiping a muddy hand across her forehead and sweeping sweat away, “We weren’t forced to take lethal action against whatever poor soul has been afflicted with this awful curse.” Toeing the body of the tentacle thing, Cat looked at it disdainfully before taking a step and slowly climbing the rungs of the ladder. “Not too long now…” she said quietly as she hauled herself up to street level. Pushing a sewer cover off the ground and dragging herself onto the street, she took a deep breath of fresh air.

Compared to that, Leo didn’t think his own curse was that bad. Yeah, sure he could definitely end up losing all his memories, but at least he’d still be a person. He looked down at the body of the monster, quietly asking,“Do you think they’ll remember attacking us when the curse is lifted?” He couldn’t imagine what that would be like, how it would feel to have no control over yourself. He followed his sister out of the sewer, thankful for clean air. “I really hope this place has a shower, because we both need one.”

“Shower, bath, I considered including a hot tub,” Cat replied with a shrug, “but I hope they have no memory of what happened to them.” She could only imagine what it would be like to potentially kill someone with your abilities when it wasn’t your fault. When she had killed before, it was because she had no other choice. “Come on. We’re nearly there.” She smiled kindly at Leo before setting out for the safehouse.

[raywritesthings]

Having Them On

My Writing Fandom: Doctor Who Characters: Donna Noble, Tenth Doctor Pairing: Doctor/Donna Summary: Donna wants to try a different strategy when they meet people, but the Doctor's not entirely sure it's a good idea. AO3 link  

“I have an idea,” Donna announced out of the blue one morning. She'd brought lunch to the console room with her since he was in the middle of a tricky bit of maintenance.

The Doctor poked his head out from underneath the grating. “Brilliant! I love your ideas. What is it?”

“You know how everywhere we go people assume we're a couple?”

The eager smile dropped off his face. “Er, yes?” He should have realized Donna would still be smarting about that after their encounter with Yovich.

“Well, it never seems to work, us telling them that we're not,” she pointed out from her perch on the jump seat. “They just think we're lying or something. But I mean, why would we lie about it?”

“Why indeed?” He managed while ignoring that familiar tightening feeling in his chest. The Doctor retreated back under the grating. He really couldn't leave this task for very long, anyway.

“So it got me thinking — what if we did lie?”

The wire he'd been attempting to gently unplug from the time altimeter ripped out when he jolted in shock, and he received a second electric shock as a result. “Ah!”

“Oh my God! Are you okay?” Donna's voice was closer now, and he felt one of her hands land on his knee. His leg twitched involuntarily.

“Fine,” he said through clenched teeth. “I'm fine. What do you mean ‘what if we did lie’?”

“I mean, what if we agreed when they assume we’re a couple? Well?” She added when he was silent.

“You know what? I’m not fine,” he said. “That shock must have gone through my brain and mixed some signals around because I could not have heard you properly.”

“Oh sure. You did hear me, now let me explain, Martian.”

The Doctor set the wires aside for the moment. Whatever Donna had to say seemed likely to incur further injury if he split his attention.

“Whenever we go somewhere and tell people we're not a couple, they never believe us. Like they think we're having them on. So, I'm thinking, what if we did have them on? We pretend we're a couple, but it's so fake they totally see right through it.”

“Fake,” he echoed.

“Yeah,” said Donna. “You know, pet names and hanging off each other and talking the other one up all the time. Just real obnoxious.”

To the Doctor's mind, referring to Donna with terms of endearment, being physically close, and praising her to others did not sound obnoxious at all. It sounded lovely. But Donna couldn't know that.

“Right, obnoxious,” he agreed.

“It's not a good idea, is it?”

Shifting slightly to the left allowed him a glimpse of Donna through the grating. She was still knelt beside him but had taken her hand away from his knee. Drawing herself away.

“It's—” The Doctor struggled with what to say; he didn't want to deal a blow to her self-confidence, but it wasn't a good idea if only due to his own failings.

He was already pretending not to be in love with Donna Noble. He wasn't sure even he could pull off pretending to date her to pretend he didn't want to date her.

“— worth a shot, I suppose,” he settled for, supportive if not actively encouraging. The smile it brought to Donna's face was worth it alone.

“Okay.” She patted his leg again before standing. “Finish up down there and pick some place for us to try it out. I'm gonna take these dishes back and freshen up. You sure you don't want any?”

“Nah, not hungry.” He certainly wasn't now what with the series of anatomically impossible flip flops his stomach was currently performing. “But stop by the wardrobe on your way back. The TARDIS should help you find something suitable.”

“Why, where are we going?”

“You’ll see,” was all he said. He heard Donna’s huff and smiled to himself as her footsteps faded down the corridor. Then he jammed the wires back into place and shimmied out from under the grating. The Doctor threw the first switch necessary to take them out of the Vortex and leaned in close to the Time Rotor. “Please, please, please, please, please for once go where I ask.”

This was his one shot, his one chance to even get a taste of what a world beyond “just mates” was. It had to be big, it had to be grand, and, most importantly, it had to be something Donna would love. Something he could look back on fondly, even if the memory of it might hurt just as much.

To his satisfaction, when he bounded down the ramp to check after landing, he found they’d parked right where he’d meant to. “Thank you,” he muttered, patting a coral strut.

“Spaceman, I’m telling you right now—” Donna’s voice, as well as the clacking of heels, preceded her reentry. “If you open those doors and we’re on some jungle planet, I am staying put today. There is no way I am letting you ruin a dress this nice.”

He turned around and felt all the air leave him in a rush. Donna was wearing a deep blue evening gown that reached nearly to her toes. Something was inlaid in the fabric that allowed it to shimmer slightly even in the dim light of the console room. The sleeves were resting off her shoulders and that combined with the low neckline was affording him an unhindered view the likes of which he’d not had since her failed wedding. The Doctor dragged his gaze up to focus instead on the way she'd swept her hair back into some intricate looking affair, just one or two wisps escaping to curl at the base of her neck — and that was not focusing, or at least not the way he'd meant to.

“The TARDIS picked that out?” He asked, needing to distract himself with something.

Donna shrugged, which was in itself distracting, but again, not the way he needed right now. “It was hanging in front of the mirror. Seemed as good a sign as any.”

Trust the Old Girl to always find some way of conspiring against him. Though he supposed that wasn't fair; the TARDIS could have given Donna a brown paper sack to wear, and he would still find her distracting simply because she was Donna.

“I am dressed right for where we’re going, right?” She checked. “I mean, what's that look about? Is it really a space jungle out there?”

“Uh, no,” said the Doctor, coming back to himself. “No space jungle. But why take my word for it?” He went back down the ramp and held the door open for her. Donna passed him with a bemused sort of smile, but that quickly morphed into a look of surprise and wonder.

He couldn't blame her, having parked them just beside the door to the cargo hold, which afforded them a slightly out of the way view of a marble tiled lobby with large windows on either side displaying the stars they were currently drifting past. A multitude of guests in glittering gowns and dashing tuxedos were proceeding through a door nearly twenty feet high leading to a brightly lit ballroom. Music and the occasional burst of laughter or the clinking of glass on glass was already spilling out into the lobby.

“It’s a Starliner,” he answered her unspoken question. “Built to travel between planets, between galaxies even, with every luxury and amenity money can buy. This is right at the height of the Fourth Great and Bountiful Human Empire.”

“You’d think they'd have decided the name was bad luck after the third time,” she said, voice fainter than usual, but the Doctor still found himself smirking at her quip.

“You’d think.”

They stepped out of the TARDIS together, and once he'd locked it behind them, Donna looped her arm through his. She was too captivated by everything around them to notice the glances he kept sneaking, which he felt guilty about but couldn’t seem to help. Did she even know how lovely she was? Even stuck on the arm of someone like him.

As if reading his mind, Donna rose up on her toes to mutter in his ear, “You know you're underdressed,” causing him to shiver as they approached the crowd.

He looked down at his suit. “Shouldn't be too much of a problem. A bit of fun’s all we’re here for. We’ll be long gone before they realize they’ve two extra passengers they don't have a room for.” He met Donna’s sharp look and quickly added, “Or...anything else.”

They got in line to enter and spent a few short minutes chatting with the couple ahead of them. The two gentlemen, one a retired schoolteacher and the other an engineer, were celebrating their fiftieth anniversary paid for by their grandchildren and had never taken so much as a sea cruise before. He and Donna offered them both a hearty congratulations just as they cleared the threshold.

“You’ve cleaned up real nice. Very classy,” Donna assured them with a warm smile. Then she bumped his shoulder. “Not like this one.”

They all shared a laugh, even if it was at his expense.

“Oh, well thank you!” Said the retired teacher, taking a brown, weathered, and trembling hand off his cane to shake hands with them each in turn. “And enjoy your honeymoon.”

Donna’s smile froze a bit while the Doctor tugged at his ear uncomfortably. The other two were already moving off across the floor, and it seemed rather futile to call them back just for a correction or to get them to guess at their charade.

“We, er, we weren’t trying just yet, were we?” He said eventually, keeping his eyes on Donna’s toes, or at least the ones that poked out at the front of her heels.

“Right,” she agreed quickly. “So that one didn’t count.”

“Exactly,” he agreed, looking away. “Oh, here comes another chance. I think that might be the hostess.” He nodded to a woman in a sequined gown and furs standing in the center of the room and surrounded by various guests, all chattering loudly. “Think we should introduce ourselves?”

“Long as it doesn’t end with us getting thrown in the brig,” Donna replied, but she was already tugging him over the way he’d observed one or two women do to their various significant others. “What’s her name?”

“Olympe D'anneaux. A titan in the—”

“Alright, I don’t need her life story, Spaceman. Olympe!” She called out.

The older woman turned with a smile that was amazingly faker than Donna’s. “Oh, my dear, how good of you to make it! And I see you’ve brought your man.”

Donna patted his arm with the hand that wasn’t already holding his. “Yes, I did.”

“Have you met Conrad? He’s an investor for the Thirty-Three Fifth’s Bank.”

Conrad turned out to be the tall, broad-shouldered man to the right of their hostess, the type of man Donna normally drooled over. Predictably, she extended her hand with shining eyes. “Donna Noble.”

“Charmed,” said Conrad the investor, taking Donna’s hand and kissing the back of it. The Doctor scowled, which unfortunately did not go missed by Olympe.

“Conrad, you rascal,” she laughed. “Mr. Noble standing right there and everything!”

The Doctor blanched.

“No, we’re not married—” His trained response was cut off by Donna of all people and not to agree with him.

“Yet! Not married yet. I try not to nag him, but I know for a fact he's got a ring.” Donna turned a too-bright smile his way. Right, the ruse. “Any plans you want to share, sweetheart?”

This was probably the bit where he was meant to act ludicrously over enthusiastic, showing off how strange this all was and causing the others to guess this was all some silly act so that next thing he knew Donna would be going off with Conrad for a quiet few moments alone. He didn’t much fancy any of that.

“I was thinking Christmas,” the Doctor said, staring right at her. “Seeing as it's an anniversary of sorts for us.” He watched her eyes widen, and the slightest pink blush rise in her cheeks.

“Oh, how romantic!” Their hostess exclaimed, clasping her hands together.

“Well, you’ll have to pull out all the stops now she's expecting it,” said Conrad, reaching out to clap him on the shoulder.

“Only the best for my Donna,” he agreed readily, baring his teeth in a grin. “Speaking of, would you like a drink, darling?”

“Er, yeah, you know what I like,” said Donna, watching him as he left.

The Doctor ordered for the both of them at the bar, needing something for his nerves or whatever it was that had him nearly blowing everything. He knew they weren't really together, and therefore Donna was at perfect liberty to fancy whoever she liked. She might even leave him someday for the sake of some fellow she fancied; she wouldn't be the first.

For the first time, however, he had a terrible feeling he wouldn't have the good grace to let her go without making a fool of himself.

Scarcely had their drinks been placed down then did Donna appear at his side. “Thought you were catching up with Olympe,” he said.

Donna scoffed, and the Doctor smirked behind the rim of his glass. “Yeah, didn't really feel like being alone with Ms. Stepford and her cronies.” She accepted her drink with a nod in thanks, then turned and braced her elbows back on the bar to observe the party going on around them, the sleeves of her dress sagging further down her arms. The engineer they’d made friends with on their way in spotted them across the room, and Donna waved to the older man and his husband while sliding a little closer to him. The Doctor twitched his fingers and brushed the silk of her gown, then made a mental game of finding patterns in the freckles on her shoulders.

“How come wealthy people always want to show off to other people? Even people they don't like,” Donna pondered aloud. “Suppose that’d be more showing up, then.”

He shrugged. “Never changes. Why do you like to show up Nerys?”

“Oi.”

The warning signal. He’d let his mouth run away from him, hadn't he? The Doctor tore his gaze from the speckled sunflower he’d been drawing in his mind’s eye to meet her stern look. “What I meant was, I suppose people don't like other people to make assumptions or think poorly of them. So they show off the best of what they've got and sweep all the rest of it under the rug. Take Ms. D’anneaux, for example.”

Donna looked over at the woman who was now leading her entourage off the main floor to make room for those wishing to dance to the orchestra. “Why? What about her?”

“Well, she's just disowned her daughter for running off with a Qu’larken girl. The humans and Qu’larkens are in a terrible feud in this time. Mother and daughter will never see each other again.” He pointed out Conrad next. “And I suspect your friend is making such a personal investment in the cheap champagne because his bank is about to fail. One of the worst bankruptcies of the century.”

“Seriously?”

“Oh yes. Everyone’s got a secret, some pretense they're hiding behind.” He lifted his eyes to the opulent chandelier hanging above them. “Particularly in a place like this.”

“What about the couple we were talking with? Those nice men, they couldn’t have something to hide,” she insisted.

The Doctor said nothing for a long time, until Donna's stare grew so insistent as to be unbearable. “He’s sick. The teacher, the one who shook our hands. This could be an anniversary gift, could also be one last night on the town.”

At his words, Donna's look turned to dismay. “He’s dying. They're gonna lose each other?”

He inclined his head. “Eventually. But here for one night, they can forget about all that and dance their cares away.” He turned from the glitz and glamor to Donna who was watching it all with a frown.

“Everyone here's lying to everyone else and themselves.”

“Especially themselves.” He placed his finished drink on the counter and held out a hand to her. “Shall we?”

Donna lost the frown to instead blink in utter confusion. “Sorry, what?”

His hand continued to hang in the air between them. “You like dancing, don't you? I’ve seen you.”

“Well I’ve never seen you. I didn't even know if you could dance.” Despite the wary tone, she placed her hand in his and let him lead them out to where other couples already swayed to the music.

“Well there we are. Should be suitably obnoxious, then.”

They were already holding hands, so he simply laced his fingers through hers and placed the other hand high on her waist, only meeting her eyes as the first beats of the song started up.

He was admittedly a little rusty at this. It had been a while since Reinnette’s lessons at Versailles, and he hadn't exactly been keeping up with practice. Donna was fortunately rather good at leading; he could picture her steering many a man about the floor, those boys Wilf had said she'd seen one after the other.

“What are you grinning about?” Donna peered up at him.

“What's not to grin about?” He countered instead.

Tonight was his night, for better or worse, and whether or not Donna found someone she could actually love in a year or tomorrow had no bearing on now. The future couldn't touch them just yet; fretting about it only squandered the present.

The song they had been dancing to changed to something a little more upbeat, and a few more couples came out onto the floor, particularly young ones.

Donna looked around at the steps they were doing. “I don't know this one.”

“That's to be expected. We are thousands of years in your future,” he reminded.

“Do you know it?”

“Nope. We’ll just have to make it up as we go along.”

“Oh, so the usual strategy then?” She asked. The Doctor laughed and swung them about to get them moving.

They gained a reputation pretty quickly by the wide berth other dancers seemed to be giving them, but that just encouraged him to spin Donna out of his arms and back in again whenever the whim struck him, which was often as he enjoyed the way her dress fanned out around her ankles, and her eyes sparkled in sheer delight.

“You’re making me dizzy,” she gasped, leaning heavily against his shoulder as they swayed for a few beats.

“Having fun though?” Donna nodded, which he felt as well as saw. “I promise not to let you fall.”

His hand had slipped a few dangerous inches lower to her hip, but Donna either hadn't noticed or couldn't be bothered just yet. Her own hand was resting at the back of his neck, fingers threading through the hairs there. He didn't know if that was just meant to be another part of the act, but if he closed his eyes he could pretend it wasn't.

The tempo began to pick up again. “What's our big finale?” Donna asked, raising her head from his shoulder and flowing seamlessly into another spin.

He pulled her back a little too close; her hand landed on his chest. “Well, remember how I said no falling?”

“Yeah?”

He grinned, his own hand shifting to her back in preparation. “You ready?”

Donna's eyes went wide. “Don't you dare. Martian, don't you dare!”

He dipped her anyway. Her laughter and the way she clung to him seemed to call her warning into question, but he was too busy laughing himself to remark upon it.

Donna's cheeks were flushed, and her chest heaved as she smiled up at him. The pins or whatever she'd done to her hair had come loose, and now it spilled almost to the floor in ginger waves.

He was breathless and not from the dancing. His tongue darted out to wet dry lips, and something in Donna's look shifted. Still smiling, still warm, but somehow more intense than before. It drew him in.

The Doctor pulled them upright, his arm still flush against her back — and there was no space between them as suddenly Donna's face was right in front of his, her heels aiding her as well as the fact his head seemed to be tilting down towards hers. Before he could stop himself, before he could think it through, he was kissing her.

Her lips were soft. He’d noticed that before, when she’d kissed him, and he'd been too shocked to remember he was dying. And they were warm, too. Everything about Donna was warm. He loved that about her. He loved this. He loved her.

The Doctor stilled, lips hovering just a breath away from hers. At some point, his eyes had closed, and he didn't dare open them. He didn't think he could bear the shock — or worse, the accusation — that was bound to be in Donna's eyes.

“Need some space,” he stammered, pulling away and pulled on as Donna's clenched hands in his collar were dislodged by his abrupt exit. He left her on the dance floor in that ballroom and kept walking right out through a side door.

The star decks that ringed the ship truly were a remarkable feat of engineering. Reinforced one-way glass allowed the passengers an unobstructed yet private view of the stars while temperature-controlled air was regularly cycled in. Still not quite fresh, though. The Doctor loosened his tie and gripped the railing of the observation deck hard enough that his knuckles turned bleach white.

Any odd behavior tonight, anything that seemed just a little outside the normal bounds could have been explained away as him trying to play the role she had assigned him. But that had been a step too far. He had no idea how he'd make excuses now, that was if Donna would even forgive him long enough to hear them.

The door opened, and the Doctor hung his head; he had a feeling he knew who it was.

“Hey, Spaceman,” Donna called, voice soft.

“Hey.”

She walked up to his side again. “How's space?”

“Good. It's good. You see that star there?” He pointed to one particularly bright speck. “It's not even a part of this galaxy, but it's the brightest star in the sky of every planet that is in this galaxy. Isn't that brilliant? One tiny little star making itself seen across the cosmos.”

“Yeah.” She smiled, but it wasn't as bright as usual. “Listen, Doctor, I just wanted to say—”

“Donna, about what happened in there—” he began with no plan of how that sentence would end.

“I’m sorry,” they said together.

The Doctor leaned back. “What?”

Donna's eyes narrowed. “Hang on, why are you sorry?”

He stared. “I...kissed you?” Saying it out loud only solidified how real and insurmountable and foolish an action it had been in his mind, and he winced in preparation of the deserved slap that was no doubt coming.

“Right, and I get because it was my stupid idea,” Donna said instead, then sighed. “I thought if I could just prove to myself how ridiculous we would be as a couple, I could stop thinking about it. Wondering.”

His voice felt stuck in his throat. Still, he managed to ask, “Wondering?”

“Yeah.”

He was frozen in a moment of time, afraid to act one way or the other.

“I think I know why we make such a rubbish fake couple.” Donna slowly turned her face from the vast vista above and before them. “It's cause we're a real one, aren't we?”

The Doctor swallowed once. “How do you figure that?”

“Everyone’s lying, especially to themselves,” she echoed.

He smiled, head ducked. “Oh. Very nice.” Trust Donna to see right through his own hypocrisy.

When he glanced at her, she was smiling as well, lips pressed together as if to keep herself from doing so too much. It was then he thought he finally processed what it was Donna had been trying to tell him since coming out here. She had always been trying to hide how pleased she was with him.

“I suppose we’ve just been having ourselves on this whole time,” he remarked which got a nod from her. “So, if we're agreed on that,” he began, somewhat faltering. This was entirely new ground for them, after all, and considering the rather explosive nature of their first negotiation, it was best to proceed with caution. “What happened in there was...good?”

She tilted her head in consideration. “Yeah, well, you took me for drinks and dancing first. I’d say we're there. Not like we haven't kissed before.”

“Very true,” he agreed. “So no objections to kissing?”

“No — well, apart from the bit where you ran out on me in the middle of it.”

The Doctor grimaced. “Your critique is noted.”

Donna was grinning now, her eyes sparkling with the pinpricks of reflected stars. “Just wait. There’ll be more of those.”

“Oh, I bet there will be.”

“Shall I write them down for you?”

“I think I can manage. Though—” he wet his lips and debated how daring he was feeling; Donna before him in a beautiful dress, the feel of her mouth against his still fresh in his mind, he thought he might be capable of anything. “—might require some practical experience to get it all down.”

“I’m sure,” she replied with a roll of her eyes, but she obliged him with a step into his space.

“Never underestimate the importance of field work, Donna.” The Doctor's touch was light as he first brushed her cheek with his thumb, then cupped the back of her head and let his fingers comb through her hair. He didn't know which she liked better yet; he didn't know which he liked better, only that he liked it all.

Donna was remaining remarkably patient throughout all of this, leaning into his hand and watching him through hooded eyes. It was a look quite similar to the one she'd worn in the ballroom just before he kissed her. Perhaps there was some predictive behavior to all this, because kiss her was precisely what he proceeded to do.

Donna's lips were just as warm and soft, but this time they moved against his with an eagerness that had him staggering back into the railing. Her eyes were closed, and he had trouble keeping his own open in order to watch her rather than simply lose himself in the moment. He lost that battle with a groan when she pressed in closer and let go of his shoulders to bury her hands in his hair.

There was something all consuming about being kissed by Donna Noble, though he'd known that ever since the 1920s. “I was right before,” the Doctor mumbled. “Really must do this more often.”

Donna snorted. “Knew it. Meant the detox, my arse.” She tilted her head back as he began nosing along her jawline, searching for a hum or a hitch in her breath that might indicate further experimentation. His Donna, bathed in starlight and stroking his hair. He wasn't sure his hearts could take it.

“This must be an alternate timeline,” he said between light kisses he trailed along the the same path. There was a spot behind her ear that was shaping up to be promising. “You haven't taken temporary leave of your senses, have you? Not an android in disguise sent to incapacitate me?”

“Why would you think that?” Asked Donna, her voice much breathier than usual.

“It's just you’ve seemed very adamant about not being interested.” Could she really blame him for wanting reassurance?

“Well I wasn't gonna be caught out fancying you if you didn't fancy me. You're the one who started all that ‘just mates’ business.”

The Doctor paused. “You’re right. I must have been out of my head that night.”

“You’re always out of your head, Martian,” Donna reminded him.

He smiled into the curve of her neck. “Oh yeah.”

The doors banged open again, and they jumped apart to see a young couple stopped short just on the threshold.

“Oh, excuse us,” one of them began.

“That's okay, we're not—”

“We weren't—”

The Doctor and Donna stopped at the same time and looked at each other. They really were going to have to work on that reflex.

“Actually, you know what?” Said the Doctor, wrapping an arm around Donna’s waist. “We are and we were, so if you wouldn't mind finding your own deck, that'd be lovely.”

“Er, alright.” They were very quickly left alone.

Donna pushed him away and let out a laugh. “I can't believe you just did that! We're gonna be the talk of the party now.”

“Oh, let them.” He didn't mind what anyone had to say about him and Donna, not when all that talk had led them right here.

She looked away, smiling, and he had a feeling she was thinking much the same thing. “Seriously, who were we fooling?”

He drew her back into his arms; now that he knew he could, he couldn't stand her being anywhere else. “No one. No one at all.”

[ironjohnred]

This is Water

@DFW

Here’s another didactic little story. There are these two guys sitting together in a bar in the remote Alaskan wilderness. One of the guys is religious, the other is an atheist, and the two are arguing about the existence of God with that special intensity that comes after about the fourth beer. And the atheist says: “Look, it’s not like I don’t have actual reasons for not believing in God. It’s not like I haven’t ever experimented with the whole God and prayer thing. Just last month I got caught away from the camp in that terrible blizzard, and I was totally lost and I couldn’t see a thing, and it was 50 below, and so I tried it: I fell to my knees in the snow and cried out ‘Oh, God, if there is a God, I’m lost in this blizzard, and I’m gonna die if you don’t help me.’” And now, in the bar, the religious guy looks at the atheist all puzzled. “Well then you must believe now,” he says, “After all, here you are, alive.” The atheist just rolls his eyes. “No, man, all that was was a couple Eskimos happened to come wandering by and showed me the way back to camp.”

It’s easy to run this story through kind of a standard liberal arts analysis: the exact same experience can mean two totally different things to two different people, given those people’s two different belief templates and two different ways of constructing meaning from experience. Because we prize tolerance and diversity of belief, nowhere in our liberal arts analysis do we want to claim that one guy’s interpretation is true and the other guy’s is false or bad. Which is fine, except we also never end up talking about just where these individual templates and beliefs come from. Meaning, where they come from INSIDE the two guys. As if a person’s most basic orientation toward the world, and the meaning of his experience were somehow just hard-wired, like height or shoe-size; or automatically absorbed from the culture, like language. As if how we construct meaning were not actually a matter of personal, intentional choice. Plus, there’s the whole matter of arrogance. The nonreligious guy is so totally certain in his dismissal of the possibility that the passing Eskimos had anything to do with his prayer for help. True, there are plenty of religious people who seem arrogant and certain of their own interpretations, too. They’re probably even more repulsive than atheists, at least to most of us. But religious dogmatists’ problem is exactly the same as the story’s unbeliever: blind certainty, a close-mindedness that amounts to an imprisonment so total that the prisoner doesn’t even know he’s locked up.

The point here is that I think this is one part of what teaching me how to think is really supposed to mean. To be just a little less arrogant. To have just a little critical awareness about myself and my certainties. Because a huge percentage of the stuff that I tend to be automatically certain of is, it turns out, totally wrong and deluded. I have learned this the hard way, as I predict you graduates will, too.

Here is just one example of the total wrongness of something I tend to be automatically sure of: everything in my own immediate experience supports my deep belief that I am the absolute centre of the universe; the realest, most vivid and important person in existence. We rarely think about this sort of natural, basic self-centredness because it’s so socially repulsive. But it’s pretty much the same for all of us. It is our default setting, hard-wired into our boards at birth. Think about it: there is no experience you have had that you are not the absolute centre of. The world as you experience it is there in front of YOU or behind YOU, to the left or right of YOU, on YOUR TV or YOUR monitor. And so on. Other people’s thoughts and feelings have to be communicated to you somehow, but your own are so immediate, urgent, real.

Please don’t worry that I’m getting ready to lecture you about compassion or other-directedness or all the so-called virtues. This is not a matter of virtue. It’s a matter of my choosing to do the work of somehow altering or getting free of my natural, hard-wired default setting which is to be deeply and literally self-centered and to see and interpret everything through this lens of self. People who can adjust their natural default setting this way are often described as being “well-adjusted”, which I suggest to you is not an accidental term.

Given the triumphant academic setting here, an obvious question is how much of this work of adjusting our default setting involves actual knowledge or intellect. This question gets very tricky. Probably the most dangerous thing about an academic education–least in my own case–is that it enables my tendency to over-intellectualise stuff, to get lost in abstract argument inside my head, instead of simply paying attention to what is going on right in front of me, paying attention to what is going on inside me.

As I’m sure you guys know by now, it is extremely difficult to stay alert and attentive, instead of getting hypnotised by the constant monologue inside your own head (may be happening right now). Twenty years after my own graduation, I have come gradually to understand that the liberal arts cliché about teaching you how to think is actually shorthand for a much deeper, more serious idea: learning how to think really means learning how to exercise some control over how and what you think. It means being conscious and aware enough to choose what you pay attention to and to choose how you construct meaning from experience. Because if you cannot exercise this kind of choice in adult life, you will be totally hosed. Think of the old cliché about “the mind being an excellent servant but a terrible master.”

This, like many clichés, so lame and unexciting on the surface, actually expresses a great and terrible truth. It is not the least bit coincidental that adults who commit suicide with firearms almost always shoot themselves in: the head. They shoot the terrible master. And the truth is that most of these suicides are actually dead long before they pull the trigger.

And I submit that this is what the real, no bullshit value of your liberal arts education is supposed to be about: how to keep from going through your comfortable, prosperous, respectable adult life dead, unconscious, a slave to your head and to your natural default setting of being uniquely, completely, imperially alone day in and day out. That may sound like hyperbole, or abstract nonsense. Let’s get concrete. The plain fact is that you graduating seniors do not yet have any clue what “day in day out” really means. There happen to be whole, large parts of adult American life that nobody talks about in commencement speeches. One such part involves boredom, routine and petty frustration. The parents and older folks here will know all too well what I’m talking about.

By way of example, let’s say it’s an average adult day, and you get up in the morning, go to your challenging, white-collar, college-graduate job, and you work hard for eight or ten hours, and at the end of the day you’re tired and somewhat stressed and all you want is to go home and have a good supper and maybe unwind for an hour, and then hit the sack early because, of course, you have to get up the next day and do it all again. But then you remember there’s no food at home. You haven’t had time to shop this week because of your challenging job, and so now after work you have to get in your car and drive to the supermarket. It’s the end of the work day and the traffic is apt to be: very bad. So getting to the store takes way longer than it should, and when you finally get there, the supermarket is very crowded, because of course it’s the time of day when all the other people with jobs also try to squeeze in some grocery shopping. And the store is hideously lit and infused with soul-killing muzak or corporate pop and it’s pretty much the last place you want to be but you can’t just get in and quickly out; you have to wander all over the huge, over-lit store’s confusing aisles to find the stuff you want and you have to manoeuvre your junky cart through all these other tired, hurried people with carts (et cetera, et cetera, cutting stuff out because this is a long ceremony) and eventually you get all your supper supplies, except now it turns out there aren’t enough check-out lanes open even though it’s the end-of-the-day rush. So the checkout line is incredibly long, which is stupid and infuriating. But you can’t take your frustration out on the frantic lady working the register, who is overworked at a job whose daily tedium and meaninglessness surpasses the imagination of any of us here at a prestigious college.

But anyway, you finally get to the checkout line’s front, and you pay for your food, and you get told to “Have a nice day” in a voice that is the absolute voice of death. Then you have to take your creepy, flimsy, plastic bags of groceries in your cart with the one crazy wheel that pulls maddeningly to the left, all the way out through the crowded, bumpy, littery parking lot, and then you have to drive all the way home through slow, heavy, SUV-intensive, rush-hour traffic, et cetera et cetera.

Everyone here has done this, of course. But it hasn’t yet been part of you graduates’ actual life routine, day after week after month after year.

But it will be. And many more dreary, annoying, seemingly meaningless routines besides. But that is not the point. The point is that petty, frustrating crap like this is exactly where the work of choosing is gonna come in. Because the traffic jams and crowded aisles and long checkout lines give me time to think, and if I don’t make a conscious decision about how to think and what to pay attention to, I’m gonna be pissed and miserable every time I have to shop. Because my natural default setting is the certainty that situations like this are really all about me. About MY hungriness and MY fatigue and MY desire to just get home, and it’s going to seem for all the world like everybody else is just in my way. And who are all these people in my way? And look at how repulsive most of them are, and how stupid and cow-like and dead-eyed and nonhuman they seem in the checkout line, or at how annoying and rude it is that people are talking loudly on cell phones in the middle of the line. And look at how deeply and personally unfair this is.

Or, of course, if I’m in a more socially conscious liberal arts form of my default setting, I can spend time in the end-of-the-day traffic being disgusted about all the huge, stupid, lane-blocking SUV’s and Hummers and V-12 pickup trucks, burning their wasteful, selfish, 40-gallon tanks of gas, and I can dwell on the fact that the patriotic or religious bumper-stickers always seem to be on the biggest, most disgustingly selfish vehicles, driven by the ugliest [responding here to loud applause] — this is an example of how NOT to think, though — most disgustingly selfish vehicles, driven by the ugliest, most inconsiderate and aggressive drivers. And I can think about how our children’s children will despise us for wasting all the future’s fuel, and probably screwing up the climate, and how spoiled and stupid and selfish and disgusting we all are, and how modern consumer society just sucks, and so forth and so on.

You get the idea.

If I choose to think this way in a store and on the freeway, fine. Lots of us do. Except thinking this way tends to be so easy and automatic that it doesn’t have to be a choice. It is my natural default setting. It’s the automatic way that I experience the boring, frustrating, crowded parts of adult life when I’m operating on the automatic, unconscious belief that I am the centre of the world, and that my immediate needs and feelings are what should determine the world’s priorities.

The thing is that, of course, there are totally different ways to think about these kinds of situations. In this traffic, all these vehicles stopped and idling in my way, it’s not impossible that some of these people in SUV’s have been in horrible auto accidents in the past, and now find driving so terrifying that their therapist has all but ordered them to get a huge, heavy SUV so they can feel safe enough to drive. Or that the Hummer that just cut me off is maybe being driven by a father whose little child is hurt or sick in the seat next to him, and he’s trying to get this kid to the hospital, and he’s in a bigger, more legitimate hurry than I am: it is actually I who am in HIS way.

Or I can choose to force myself to consider the likelihood that everyone else in the supermarket’s checkout line is just as bored and frustrated as I am, and that some of these people probably have harder, more tedious and painful lives than I do.

Again, please don’t think that I’m giving you moral advice, or that I’m saying you are supposed to think this way, or that anyone expects you to just automatically do it. Because it’s hard. It takes will and effort, and if you are like me, some days you won’t be able to do it, or you just flat out won’t want to.

But most days, if you’re aware enough to give yourself a choice, you can choose to look differently at this fat, dead-eyed, over-made-up lady who just screamed at her kid in the checkout line. Maybe she’s not usually like this. Maybe she’s been up three straight nights holding the hand of a husband who is dying of bone cancer. Or maybe this very lady is the low-wage clerk at the motor vehicle department, who just yesterday helped your spouse resolve a horrific, infuriating, red-tape problem through some small act of bureaucratic kindness. Of course, none of this is likely, but it’s also not impossible. It just depends what you want to consider. If you’re automatically sure that you know what reality is, and you are operating on your default setting, then you, like me, probably won’t consider possibilities that aren’t annoying and miserable. But if you really learn how to pay attention, then you will know there are other options. It will actually be within your power to experience a crowded, hot, slow, consumer-hell type situation as not only meaningful, but sacred, on fire with the same force that made the stars: love, fellowship, the mystical oneness of all things deep down.

Not that that mystical stuff is necessarily true. The only thing that’s capital-T True is that you get to decide how you’re gonna try to see it.

This, I submit, is the freedom of a real education, of learning how to be well-adjusted. You get to consciously decide what has meaning and what doesn’t. You get to decide what to worship.

Because here’s something else that’s weird but true: in the day-to-day trenches of adult life, there is actually no such thing as atheism. There is no such thing as not worshipping. Everybody worships. The only choice we get is what to worship. And the compelling reason for maybe choosing some sort of god or spiritual-type thing to worship–be it JC or Allah, be it YHWH or the Wiccan Mother Goddess, or the Four Noble Truths, or some inviolable set of ethical principles–is that pretty much anything else you worship will eat you alive. If you worship money and things, if they are where you tap real meaning in life, then you will never have enough, never feel you have enough. It’s the truth. Worship your body and beauty and sexual allure and you will always feel ugly. And when time and age start showing, you will die a million deaths before they finally grieve you. On one level, we all know this stuff already. It’s been codified as myths, proverbs, clichés, epigrams, parables; the skeleton of every great story. The whole trick is keeping the truth up front in daily consciousness.

Worship power, you will end up feeling weak and afraid, and you will need ever more power over others to numb you to your own fear. Worship your intellect, being seen as smart, you will end up feeling stupid, a fraud, always on the verge of being found out. But the insidious thing about these forms of worship is not that they’re evil or sinful, it’s that they’re unconscious. They are default settings.

They’re the kind of worship you just gradually slip into, day after day, getting more and more selective about what you see and how you measure value without ever being fully aware that that’s what you’re doing.

And the so-called real world will not discourage you from operating on your default settings, because the so-called real world of men and money and power hums merrily along in a pool of fear and anger and frustration and craving and worship of self. Our own present culture has harnessed these forces in ways that have yielded extraordinary wealth and comfort and personal freedom. The freedom all to be lords of our tiny skull-sized kingdoms, alone at the centre of all creation. This kind of freedom has much to recommend it. But of course there are all different kinds of freedom, and the kind that is most precious you will not hear much talk about much in the great outside world of wanting and achieving…. The really important kind of freedom involves attention and awareness and discipline, and being able truly to care about other people and to sacrifice for them over and over in myriad petty, unsexy ways every day.

That is real freedom. That is being educated, and understanding how to think. The alternative is unconsciousness, the default setting, the rat race, the constant gnawing sense of having had, and lost, some infinite thing.

I know that this stuff probably doesn’t sound fun and breezy or grandly inspirational the way a commencement speech is supposed to sound. What it is, as far as I can see, is the capital-T Truth, with a whole lot of rhetorical niceties stripped away. You are, of course, free to think of it whatever you wish. But please don’t just dismiss it as just some finger-wagging Dr Laura sermon. None of this stuff is really about morality or religion or dogma or big fancy questions of life after death.

The capital-T Truth is about life BEFORE death.

It is about the real value of a real education, which has almost nothing to do with knowledge, and everything to do with simple awareness; awareness of what is so real and essential, so hidden in plain sight all around us, all the time, that we have to keep reminding ourselves over and over:

“This is water.”

“This is water.”

It is unimaginably hard to do this, to stay conscious and alive in the adult world day in and day out. Which means yet another grand cliché turns out to be true: your education really IS the job of a lifetime. And it commences: now.