#sometimes it’s like they’ve never had a conversation with an actual human

[adventuringblind]

Drive With You Forever

Chapter Four: Charles is confused

Max verstappen x lando Norris x Charles Leclerc x reader

Chapter summary: Charles leclerc has always known he's weird. Maybe it takes someone just as weird as him to discover he's not alone.

Warnings: Reader discovers sexuality is a thing, almost a car crash, injury description, allusions to past abuse

Notes: Yay! Charles content! This chapter is wicked long, btw. I got carried away... oops.

Previous <-

Masterlist

Charles Leclerc had always known he was different. He just got a confirmation during his rookie season with Sauber.

He tried to keep his head down and show his talent, yet things never went to plan.

He was glad to be racing with Max again. His rival until Max practically flew up the ranks and Charles was stuck moving at the same speed he always had. Far to slow for his liking.

Now he’d achieved his dream. It’s 2019 and he’s driving for Ferrari alongside Sebastian vettel.

Everything seemed to be okay for now. Aside from his weird attraction to his stupid rival and his girlfriend who spent majority of her time in the Ferrari garage.

He noticed it last year and made it a point to stay as far away as possible from them. And for some reason it felt like fate was laughing at him because he always ran into the two.

Awkward. Stumbling. Stuttering.

He hated himself for this. He hated that he couldn’t just be normal. Fall for someone he actually had a chance with. Not the two most taken people in the paddock.

It didn’t help the Pierre constantly talked his ear off about them. Complaining that Max never shuts up about her. A lovely nail in the coffin.

Now at Ferrari he spent so much time around her that he was mentally hitting his head on a rock.

She’s weird and doesn’t get human interactions sometimes. She literally talks about the car all the time. She’s told him a few times what the strategy should be and not to listen to Xavi. Somehow she always knows what advice he’s going to need for a race.

Max, on the other hand, was something he’d not expected. It came out of nowhere during his teenage years. They’ve known each their for so long and yet Charles had yet to hold a semi decent conversation with him.

Max is a good driver and everyone knows it. He’d blamed it on respect at first but now they are 20 and Charles can’t help but memorize every stupidly little detail about him.

He determined that he must be mentally I’ll. Or bisexual. Or both.

“Your eyes are going to get stuck if you keep staring like that.” Teases Sebastian. Charles hadn’t even realized he’d zoned in on the happy could. Max dancing poorly with her to some imaginary music. He just moves he’s eyes to the table. Hoping the German doesn’t think much about it.

“Why so glum?” Asks the older male. Charles sucks in through his teeth. He definitely doesn’t want to explain that he’s attracted to both his daughter and her boyfriend. He’d probably thing he was crazy.

“Jealous, I suppose.” He settles for.

“Of which one.” Charles snaps his head up to Sebastian. A cheeky grin spreading across his face. Surely he can’t be that easy to read, right? “Don’t worry, I’ll keep your secret.”

Charles is stumbling over his words. Questions of how he knows attempt to come out but sound like gibberish. Thankfully Seb understands him.

“You make puppy eyes at both of them all the time. You should be glad they’re both oblivious. It took her and Max years to figure it out.”

The first time he’d been relieved since this conversation started. Neither of them had noticed him. His friendship with the two was as close as he was going to get and he planned to keep it that way.

~

She’d been staying with Max that night. It was hard to find time to just be in each others presence during race weekends. Her mind was racing this weekend for some reason. Her nightmares had been getting worse recently, so she opted to keep herself awake and let Max sleep.

Her head was absolutely throbbing. She’d already stopped a few nose bleeds. She even tried levitating around random objects to get some of her energy out. Nothing was working.

Her vision was going now. She didn’t want to wake Max, but she couldn’t help the cries of pain the wracked her chest. The feeling of the floor. Then a person?

This was definitely a vision. Not a small one by the looks of it. She’s had a few of these before. Where she sees more then a moment and is able ti get a clearer picture.

She’s following around Charles. The Monegasque is racing. It’s the same track they are at now. She looked at the clock. Tomorrows date. Some time around 4.

Charles’ car has a rear tire explode. His car sending him into the wall. She can see his body dangling as the car flips itself.

Then she’s back. The white hot pain still searing her veins. Max holding her gently in his lap. Why does she feel like it’s still going?

She loses sight of Max one again and is thrown into another image. Her and Max sharing an intimate moment embracing each other.

She can’t help the smile that creeps onto her face.

Someone else joins them now. Their intimate moment now being shared.

She’s confused. She’s scared. And she’s in so much pain.

~

Max held her as the pain dies down. He already had a wet rag in hand to hopefully help cool her rising body temperature and wipe away the blood that was stuck to her.

“Do you want to talk about what you saw?”

“Charles is going to crash tomorrow.”

“But you’re not going to let that happen are you?” There is a smug smile on his face. He already knows what she’s planning. Her and Charles had become relatively close since he’s been at Ferrari. Max actually thought their relationship was oddly cute in a way.

“I saw something else, also.”

“Yeah?”

"We were hugging and smiling. Then, someone else showed up. But it didn't ruin it? Like - they joined us, I guess."

Max ponders for a moment. It's not something he would've considered. It's definitely not something he would've seen himself doing.

The girl panicking on the floor makes him think she probably has no idea that it's actually pretty normal for that to happen nowadays. She's spilling words about how she'd never do that to him.

"Shush. I think we can figure this out in the morning." Max heaves her off the floor and into bed. Continuing to stroke her hair until she falls asleep.

~

She was on edge all day. She repeatedly warned Charles about his tires. She warned Seb about his tires and Charles.

It was nearing four o'clock now. She was watching the tire degradation, and Charles was getting close to not having anything left.

She ran. Ran to get on the radio and tell someone about his tires.

Thankfully, they listened. She hadn't been wrong about things yet. Charles came into the pits and got new tires.

The relief that washed over her when he crossed the finish line in one peice was immense.

Check didn't care he finished sixth. She ran to him regardless.

Charles was shocked when she jumped into his arms. She'd done this before. she always hugged him him when he was done racing. He learned early that she likes physical contact over words.

This hug was different. He could feel the tension actively leaving her muscles.

He just embraced her. Letting himself relax into her hold.

~

She was pacing in Sebs hotel room. Max had been attempting to get her to relax her body. Seb was sitting at the table watching the two go back and forth. Then there was Lewis.

Max had told him the interesting predicament they'd found themselves in. Seb had not really understood everything about it, and Max was doing a terrible job at trying to explain it to him. So he had asked Lewis to attempt.

Lewis had explained the idea of polyamory. The same idea Max was trying to explain. The same thing the girl pacing the room was not understanding.

"geliefde, we don't have to think about it."

"Why are we thinking about it exactly?" Pipes Lewis. He'd been quiet since she started pacing. After his explanation of something she'd never heard of.

All of them freeze. What are they supposed to say? She had a vision of the future and saw them with another male? A ridiculous notion.

Lewis looks between them all. The other three look between each other.

Seb looks at her. His face is caring and gentle. "She's been having some revelations about the world recently."

Lewis either is just nodding in understanding because it's the truth or he knows their lying and doesn't want to push further. Either way, at least he dropped it.

Back in Max's room, she'd finally been able to calm down. It still didn't make any sense to her, though. Why was Max so okay with this?

Max, unbeknownst to her, was pondering the idea. He'd learned to just flow with her visions. It wasn't set in stone but sometimes it was okay to just let it happen. This was one of those things that he was genuinely open to try if she saw him doing it.

Somewhere in his brain, he could find thoughts that he locked away. Things he thought were weird and decided never to open the box to that again.

Obviously, she wasn't opposed to the idea either. She saw herself in that vision. Her feelings are much different than Max's, though. He could see the shame in her eyes every time she looked at him.

Finally, he'd gotten her here. He's kneeling down in front of her while she sits on the bed. His hands are placed on either side of her thighs.

"I'm going to tell you how I feel about this and then I want you to be completely honest about your feelings, okay?"

She nods her head. Still avoiding his eyes. The guilt to much for her.

"I'm willing to see where this goes. We don't have to try to change anything. From what you saw, we're both happy. I quite like seeing you smile." His pointer finger quickly moved upwards, and the pad just barely touches the top of her nose. "Now, explain to me what you're feeling because unlike you, I am no superhero."

Superhero. A nickname she earned a year ago when she first showed him. He ranted about how she was like a few comicbook superheros he's seen. She wasn't fond of it at first, but now it feels endearing.

"I don't understand it yet. I'm not saying it's a bad thing. It's just that Hanna and seb had told me that it's two people, not three or more, like Lewis was explaining earlier."

Max nods his head in understanding. His hope is that it helps her keep going. He keeps up comforting little touches along her body.

"I'm not going to try to change anything, but I also don't want you to he upset. I've seen relationships at the paddock end because of someone else getting in the way."

"Well, those relationships were not meant to he three people. Maybe ours is. I've seen you with far too much love to give. I feel it would only be natural to let others in."

~

Charles couldn't help staring at her. Her stupid smile was making him swoon.

She was trying to tell him about something she's working on. Yet his mind was too far away to heat what she's saying.

She grabs his hand. Her attempt at pulling him back to earth. "Charlie? Are you okay?"

"Yes, sorry. I'm a bit out of it today." He laughs. His stupid nervous laugh.

"Want to go for a walk to clear your head?"

"That sounds amazing."

Their in Silverstone this weekend. A place he knows fairly well. This walk made him see things he hadn't before.

"Is Max going to be upset you're walking alone with a different guy?" Charles is very aware that Max is protective of her. Mostly from people she doesn't know, cameras, and the media, but it still doesn't change the fact that he could get punched for this.

He takes note of how she bites her lip. "No, I texted him you were having a rough day and needed a friend."

He hums. The only response that feels appropriate.

He didn't notice how he kept walking, and she had stopped. Her hands rubbed her temples. "Are you alright?" Concern is etched into his face.

Somehow, he'd missed the car speeding towards him. He curses how quiet electric engines are. He thinks it might be the end. The way he attracts tragedy finally catching up with him.

He feels his body being thrown to the side. He thought the hit would be more painful. Maybe the pain just hasn't registered yet. The little patch of grass on the side of the road catches him. The fall felt abnormally slow.

Charles lifts his head to inspect his body. He feels fine. Better than fine, actually.

He drags himself up and glances at where his friend is. Panic immediately rises as he sees her on her knees with blood running down the side of her face.

He thinks the car might have hit her. But she looks perfectly fine aside from that. A car would have cause more frontal damage, and she probably would have hit her head.

Then again, he felt better then perfect right now.

He runs over to her and drops to his knees. His hands reach to gently cradle her face. She's panting and trying to get to her phone, but her hands are so shaky she can't type anything.

"Can I?"

She just nods and hands the device over to him. She was trying to call Max.

~

Max is almost flying out of the paddock. Yelling to Christian that he'd be right back.

He found Charles only a few blocks away. Keeping the head of his girlfriend elevated. Her face seemed paler, and there is a trail of crimson on the sides of her face.

Oh. Oh no.

Max pulls over and gets out of the car. "What happened?"

"A car came out of nowhere, speeding. I thought I got hit, but I don't know now, and she's like this, but I don't think it hit her either." Charkes spills in one breath.

Him and the Monegasque had been friends for a while. Well- as close of friends as rivals can be.

She's still awake and mildly coherent. She'd overexerted most likely.

"Schat, can you tell me what happened, please? I need to know how to help you."

Charles is confused by the question. Obviously, from what he'd explained, she'd most likely been hit by a car.

"Couldn't let gim get hurt." She mumbles. Somehow, Max knows exactly what she said, and Charles is left to decipher the meaning. Is it an English thing?

How could she have stopped the car? She wasn't even close to him!

~

Before Charles has a chance to ask anything, he's helping haul a female body through the 'secret' paddock entrance. The one usually used for emergencies. Max and Charles both figured this could constitute as one.

Charles was still confused why they weren't taking her to the medical center. Or anywhere else that would be able to help her better than they could.

Seb met them outside the Ferrari motor home. The door to his room open and waiting.

"What happened?" He looks at max expectantly for an answer.

"She over exerted herself, I think. Possibly moving Charles and healing him simultaneously."

"I'm sorry, what?" Charles is eyeing the two of them. The two only stare at him.

"Dies he know?" The German asks Max. The Dutch shook his head no and bit his lip. Seemingly giving away some secret.

Charles is confused, frustrated and concerned. He let's out a string of French words that neither can understand.

"I'm going to see if I can't clean her up and see if she'll wake up. Can you take Charles to his room and explain to him what happened?"

"Like- explain explain? Or explain?"

"He's seen it, so there's no use in hiding it now. By the looks of it, she was also willing to out herself for him."

Then Charles is being dragged off once again. Now to the comfort of his room instead.

The Dutchman practically forces Charles to sit down. "I'm going to explain to you, and you have to promise you will never speak a word of it."

~

Charles is still shocked by it all. Even in the evening after he's done all his media chorse, he still doesn't get it.

He knew there were some things about her that were weird and that her childhood was shit, but this is just insane.

He makes his way up to Max's hotel room. His brain still trying to process.

He thinks about turning around when he gets to the door. However, it's like they are reading his mind or something because Max opens the door as soon as he steps in front of it.

"Welcome!" Max moves aside to let him in. Charles takes cautious steps forward. His eyes landing on the bed where his friend lay.

She looks better now. Her face has some color back to it. The blood is gone. He's happy about it, but now he feels awkward.

"It's okay, Max told me that you know now." She sits up but doesn't look him in the eyes.

Max let's them have space yet remains perched on the corner. The guardian he's used to seeing.

Charles sits on the edge of the bed closest to her. She looks panicked.

"It's a lot to process."

She shakes her head. Her eyes find Max for some sort of support. It was easy with him.

"It doesn't mean that I'm going to stop loving you or anything. It's just information to take in and understand because it's new." He rambles. Not even realizing he let the L word slip.

Now her eyes find Charles'. They look for understanding. Charles then knows his mistake. His hand flies over his mouth in embarrassment. Cheeks are now growing red and warm.

"I'm so sorry. That wasn't meant- I-"

Charles stands up and is about to bolt before Max rudely blocks his way out.

He looks back at her as Charles tries to find a way through. "Is the face less foggy now?"

Charles is now confused, frustrated, awkward, and embarrassed. It's a combination that can't get any worse.

~

She's staring at him. Her eyes bore into his soul. The worst part is that Max is laughing about it.

Somehow, they had a feeling this could happen. She had a vision where they were not a couple but a trio. Now, she was trying to see if she could recall a resemblance. Charles adds insecure to his growing list of unpleasant emotions.

"I don't remember." She confesses. Guilt creeps onto her face.

"Well, the question is, do we want to try this?" Max asks with such confidence.

It throws charles' head into a tizzy. The two people he thought were the farthest out of reach are actually the closest? It seems unreal. "Have you two already talked about this?" Charles is hesitant in asking.

"After her vision, yes. There's been some discovery on our end, and it's something we're willing to try."

The girl nods her head in agreement. Her eyes light up now that Max has taken control of the conversation.

"Okay, I'm willing to give this a shot."

"I can't read minds, I need your open and honest feelings. If we're going to do this, then you're going to have to be vulnerable."

Max takes Charles hands in his. Their arms now stretch the length of the small table.

It's the touch that gets him. He'd seen Max do it to her a thousand times and constantly longed for it himself.

"I've actually been crushing on both of you- for awhile now." He admits.

The two look up at him with both surprise and warmth. They were glad to hear this. Relief floods through Charles allowing him to continue speaking.

"I thought I was broken or something because I wanted to be with both of you at the same time. I thought it was impossible, but here we are." Charles looks anywhere but at them.

Then she's next to him. Her lips pressed against his forehead in an endearing way.

It's weird that her powers had somehow managed to help her get two partners.

~

They take things slow. They keep open communication between the three of them. They double-check everything until they learn comforts and boundaries.

They are almost through the season now. They've come to Abu Dhabi.

Charles is an anxious mess. He jas a chance to help move the team up, and he wants it so bad.

It's the night before, and he can't sleep for the life of him. He checks his phone, sending a quick text to their group chat. Mostly filled with funny cat videos from Max.

It doesn't take long to get a response, and he's on his way.

Charles has gotten used to the fact that she will always be able to open the door as soon as he gets there. He barely bothers slowing down as he enters the room and falls face first on the bed.

"Rough night?" Asks Max.

"Like you wouldn't believe."

The girl playfully lays herself across the two. The weight of her body comforting to them both.

Max dosen't let it stay that way, though, as he rolls them all over and peppers both of their faces with chaste kisses.

It doesn't take Charles long to fall asleep with them. His and Max's arms tangled up with the girl in between them.

~

Tags: @styles-sunflower @purplephantomwolf @boiohboii @reblog-princess-blog @jjsprobablywrong @Ipab @jayda12

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4.5 ->

[makoodles]

Imagine being friends with the sully kids, growing up with them like Spider. Then one day, during a meal with them, you ask about Na’vi courting customs, something they’ve never told you about. They look at you confused, so focused on that feeling they don’t pick up on the way Neteyam freezes. When Jake asks why you’re bringing it up, you get a little shy and say “I never had to know before, since I’m human and never thought a Na’vi would stoop so low as to actually /court/ me, but one of the new warriors has been doing things that I sometimes see promised mates do for me, but I want to make sure I’m not reading too much into an act of friendship.” Neteyam is still silent, his chest thick with jealousy and fear of losing you. Kiri notices and, fanning the flames like the little sister she is, asks what he does that makes you think he’s courting you. “Well, he is often coming to talk to me whenever he can, and he makes sure to tell me all his accomplishments and what he hunted. He brings me plants he gathered himself, and sometimes when we walk together his tail rubs my leg. He even let his tail wrap around my leg while we sat once. He also flies by me every so often, so I think he is trying to show off.” Lo’ak asks “is it working?” “I mean, I think it’s impressive? After seeing what Neteyam can do and all he has achieved, it’s hard for me to know what is supposed to be impressive for a normal Na’vi” Neteyam cannot stop himself from puffing up with pride at that, knowing that he has impressed you so much that you cannot understand when another Na’vi is showing off. But he’s desperate to stake his claim, to show this other warrior that he is the one who deserves you, who will worship you, who is the best mate for you.

BROOOO THIS IS SO CUTE I LOVE THIS

neteyam sitting there feeling unbelievably smug as he realises that his human best friend is subconsciously comparing every na'vi male she meets to him. and of course she finds them all lacking -- he's obviously the superior male here.

and he's never really thought about you like that before - you've grown up alongside him, you're like his best friend - but since that conversation and the realisation that other males are tentatively showing interest in you, he starts getting weirdly possessive of you. you're his best friend after all, and what can those other guys offer you that he can't?

[timeagainreviews]

Dust and Darkness Prevail

Panspermia is the theory that human life was seeded by comets, asteroids, meteoroids, and space dust falling to Earth. Directed panspermia is the idea that an unknown third party purposely seeded life onto this planet through similar means. These are perhaps the most ancient of aliens. For whatever reason, be it propagation, a future food source, or simply contamination from an explorer’s boot, somehow, we were created.  It’s easy to see why mankind looked to the stars for parentage- we are made of star stuff, after all. As our understanding of the stars grew, so did our desire to understand them in relation to ourselves. Staring down the concept of being a mere dust mote floating within sunbeams, some of us began to wonder if the Gods we abandoned weren’t actually a different form of sky daddy. In the words of Giorgio A. Tsoukalos- “Aliens.”

Science fiction has a rich history of depicting ancient Gods as alien lifeforms. Doctor Who is no different. Sometimes these extra-terrestrial visitors are used to explain odd phenomena, and other times, they’ve been used to outright undermine the achievements of ancient civilisations. One of the most popular ancient alien theories is that aliens helped build the pyramids. Some Egyptian-themed polyhedron-obsessed aliens influenced ancient Egyptian culture. You can see it in movies like Stargate, or in television stories like the 1975 Doctor Who serial “Pyramids of Mars.” Recent books like Erich Von Daniken’s scientifically dubious “Chariots of the Gods,” or numerous documentaries narrated by Rod Serling had garnered interest in ancient astronauts. A year after “Pyramids of Mars,” aired, NASA released photos from their Viking 1 orbiter that would only feed these theories. The black and white photos of the Cydonia region appeared to depict a carved facelike structure and gigantic pyramids on the planet’s surface. Needless to say, some people let their imaginations run wild.

While many of the concepts explored in the History Channel’s “Ancient Aliens,” have been labelled pseudo-science or even racist, some of these concepts still crop up in popular media. A more benign example would be Marvel’s own Thor and Loki. Sure, they call them Gods, but they are very clearly from advanced alien civilisations. It feels appropriate then that Doctor Who returning with Disney money might also explore one of its own ancient aliens in Sutekh the Destroyer. Considering the build-up with the Toymaker and the Maestro, it all seems fairly obvious in hindsight. But what does this have to do with Ruby Sunday? In seeking out her own parentage, might she also benefit from looking to the stars?

One aspect to this season of Doctor Who that I feel has actually fallen a bit flat is the question of Ruby Sunday’s parents. Considering that the fandom has been interacting more with the question of the identity of Susan Twist’s character, it’s safe to say I’m not alone in this. It’s just not a very interesting question, and I think it’s partly because we already know the answer. Doctor Who’s official Twitter recently asked fans who they think Ruby’s mother really is, and only a few people actually got the answer right. It’s Carla Sunday, obviously. I find this whole question to be as flawed as the conversation around it. Ruby uses words like “abandoned,” to describe herself. And while I can understand the desire to know your roots, I know my adopted siblings were never abandoned. They were found. They have a family who love them. My mother who was also adopted had a mother in my grandma. My greatest hope with this storyline is that this is what Russell T Davies has been leading up to all along. Ruby’s real mother is the one who changed her diapers and cleaned up scraped knees.

Speaking of family, “The Legend of Ruby Sunday,” begins like a bit of a family reunion. Yasmin Finney is back as “Rose.” As are Gemma Redgrave as “Kate Lethbridge-Stewart,” Bonnie Langford as “Mel,” and Alexander Devrient as “Colonel Christofer Ibrahim.” Also returning is the Vlinx, with a shiny new chassis. Strangely absent is Ruth Madeley as UNIT’s scientific advisor “Shirley Anne Bingham." In her place is Lenny Rush as “Morris Gibbons,” a boy genius with a taste for excitement. We’re also introduced to Harriet, UNIT’s newest lead archivist. More on her later. The light tone of this family reunion is much needed as the majority of this episode is Doctor Who at its most bleak.

Something I have completely failed to mention this season has been the TARDIS’ weird groaning. It’s not as though I hadn’t noticed, there have just been so many things to talk about lately. I had meant to bring it up last week when the Doctor told Rogue the TARDIS doesn’t like bounty hunters. I figured then that it was the Doctor ignoring a bigger problem. Speaking of which, it does strike me as a bit odd that the Doctor hadn’t addressed the issue for such a long time. The TARDIS has been groaning and sliding into landings like a football tackle. I understand that the Doctor has a lot on his mind, but it would have been nice if they could have shown the Doctor showing any kind of concern for the TARDIS. He’s been flying her for thousands of years, he would notice any slight change. This isn’t a huge issue for me, though it does feel a bit out of character. But who am I to complain? Even I forgot to bring it up.

The Doctor does have a lot on his mind, which is what brings him to UNIT HQ. It was nice to see the Doctor lay all of his cards on the table for a change. You don’t often see the Doctor outright asking for help. Luckily, UNIT was already on the case. The woman the Doctor keeps seeing also exists in modern-day London as Susan Triad. I found it a bit odd that the Doctor would know a politician from an aborted timeline like Roger ap Gwilliam, but not a tech industry giant with her name on a skyscraper. Even Colonel Ibrahim recognised it as an anagram of TARDIS, so what gives, Doctor? 

Part of their gathering intelligence on Susan Triad has been using Mel to infiltrate her organisation. When I had heard they were bringing back Mel, I was excited. Mel has never been a fan favourite, and even I took a lot of time to warm up to her in classic Doctor Who. But bringing her back feels like a no-brainer. She’s a tech whiz and Bonnie Langford is a great actress. There is only room to grow with her character, and grow she does. Not only have they given her a bit more backstory with losing her family, but we also get to see her acting as a double agent and puttering about on her scooter. Seeing Mel in this capacity is a delight. I am really enjoying how they have built up UNIT to be more like the ‘70s (or was it the ‘80s?) with recurring characters. Instead of Yates and Benton, we’ll now have Ibrahim and Sullivan. I really hope they continue this trend, though I would appreciate it if they stopped haemorrhaging scientific advisors.

Despite around-the-clock surveillance, the most UNIT has managed to gather on Susan Triad is that she’s a seemingly nice human woman with no underlying alien traits. Her company’s upcoming event will announce that she is making the Triad OS free to the world, which seems like a weird flex. Ubuntu and Fedora are both free operating systems, so this is nothing new. What’s even more perplexing is that UNIT would integrate Triad into their own systems. Call me crazy, but if I were a government organisation spying on a tech giant because their name is an anagram of an alien time machine, I might opt to use Windows or Mac. The whole storyline was giving shades of “The Sontaran Strategem/The Poison Sky,” or even “Kingsman: The Secret Service,” wherein miracle technologies are secretly deadly. We still don’t know the ramifications of the Triad system’s worldwide rollout, but I imagine we’ll find out next week.

Something a friend pointed out to me that feels important happens during the Mrs Flood scene. According to Kate, the Triad press conference was scheduled for fifteen hundred hours, or 3 pm. What’s odd is that when Ruby and Rose show up to Ruby’s home, Cherry’s digital clock reads 15:08. At first, I had misremembered this scene and figured it must take place during the events at UNIT HQ, but the inclusion of Ruby and Rose implies that it’s not. I can think of three possible explanations for this. One explanation is that it was a continuity error. The production crew simply goofed. It happens. Another explanation is that Cherry’s radio is like my coffee machine in that the digital time display is incorrect. That’s possibly the most human answer. But television doesn’t often allow for such realistic discrepancies as they can confuse audiences. Seriously, how often do you see fictional stories where two characters share the name John? One of my closest friends is also named Natalie, but that wouldn’t usually work in fiction. This leaves us with a third explanation which is that it was done on purpose. Either something wibbly wobbly is happening, or they goofed.

As expected, Mrs Flood appears to be someone. With the reveal of Susan Triad being Sutekh, my hopes of the Rani have been dashed against the rocks of reality. Or have they? In explaining regeneration to Ruby, the Doctor describes it as a way to hide away with a new face. When Ruby fetches Mrs Flood to mind Cherry while Carla joins them back at UNIT, Mrs Flood mentions hiding herself away. While Mrs Flood was a bit rude to Ruby and downright hostile toward Cherry, these could be the actions of a bitter Susan Foreman, aka the Doctor’s granddaughter. However, I am reticent to call her Susan for a couple or reasons. For starters, Carole Ann Ford was present at the premiere for the 60th anniversary specials. Sure this could have simply been due to her history with the show, but it could also imply she’s been filming things for the RTD2 era. You could speculate that the only thing she actually filmed was a flashback regeneration scene into Mrs Flood, but that feels like a waste of a much-needed reunion. My money is on the Rani, but mostly because I want her to be and because Carole Ann Ford deserves her moment. If they bring Susan back, there’s only one person I want to see play her.

Ruby and Rose fetch the surveillance tape from the night Ruby was left on that church stoop. I loved that Carla joined them the moment she learned that Donna was involved with UNIT. It’s nice to see that at least one character hasn’t forgotten who Ruby’s real mother is. This also gave rise to one of my favourite Doctor moments of the episode when he says "Yeah but it’s Carla. Come on," in response to the claim that not even the prime minister has access to UNIT HQ. I loved the exchange between the Doctor and Kate about their possession of a time window. They claim they don’t have one, the Doctor knows they do. Classic. It’s the Doctor knowing of the existence of the Black Archive all over again. Even further, I loved the Doctor laughing at the way UNIT has “lashed together,” the time window. I doubt he really feels that way, but the Doctor needs to remind UNIT not to get too comfortable. Undercutting their achievement is a reminder that these items aren’t toys. It’s a subtle way to establish himself as an authority while also reminding UNIT of their limitations. The Doctor’s aim isn’t to belittle UNIT, but to instill a healthy fear of these technologies. As it turns out, the Doctor’s fears were well-founded.

The time window is a large room capable of viewing moments in time. The Doctor refers to time as a memory which is a bigger Whoiverse change than people are giving it credit. I always thought of the TARDIS as a supercomputer that stores moments throughout time in its memory like files. It makes sense that time and memory mingle like this. The effect of the VHS degradation on memory is one of the coolest visual effects in Doctor Who. It’s nice to see that Disney money coming into play. I also have to tip my hat to Lenny Rush for his performance as Morris here. Lots of UNIT characters were given little moments to shine in this episode like Harriet and Colonel Chidozie. The latter of whom we’re given a bit of background information about so that when he meets his demise, we care a little bit more. He’s just a Manchester lad with a cheery disposition. It would be a shame if something were to happen to him.

In an almost cruel twist of fate, the visual of Ruby’s mother is obscured. Not just obscured, but seemingly darkened as if on purpose. The moment she walks close to the Doctor and Ruby, she glitches past them. It’s sad for Ruby, but I feel it’s important that Carla is there to witness this moment. She needs to see that the mystery of Ruby’s life isn’t just one of being an orphan, but that something is deeply and darkly wrong. I feel as though Carla’s involvement in this storyline is due a rather big payoff next week, and I am looking forward to that. The Doctor notices that the TARDIS appears more corporeal than a simple image from a video. He asks the tanatalising question “If time is memory and memory is time, then what is the memory of a time machine?” It’s a question I have been mulling in my head ever since, and I still don’t have a great answer.

Colonel Chidozie disappears around the same time a swarm of dark energy begins to incircle the memory TARDIS (omg I think I just figured it out). The MEMORY TARDIS! Ok. I see what you’re putting down, Russell. Carla refers to the dark energy as “the Beast,” as in, the devil. But who among us didn’t automatically think of the Beast from “The Satan Pit”? Hell, it’s not as though it would break the show if Sutekh and the Beast were one in the same. They’re both voiced by Gabriel Woolf. Furthermore, we know Sutekh takes on multiple forms like the doggo or Susan Triad. There are plenty of examples of gods taking on multiple forms. Christianity has the Holy Trinity of God, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Hindu gods often have multiple forms such as Vishnu manifesting as Krishna, Rama, or even Buddha. It’s fully within the realm of possibility that the Beast is yet one more aspect to Sutekh. After all, the Fourth Doctor did refer to him as Satan at one point. Why not?

Possibly the most interesting aspect of the scene is when Chidozie’s speaks out from the darkness. It’s not so much the fact that he’s in Hell or that his consciousness feels like it’s been hijacked like Angel Bob’s was, but rather the fact that he only seems to respond to Ruby. The Doctor tries to commune with the entity and gets nothing. Kate commands Chidozie to report and comes up equally empty-handed. It’s not until Ruby attempts to communicate with the entity that it responds. If Christianity has the Trinity and Hinduism has the Trimurti, perhaps Sutekh has the Triad. Perhaps there’s Sutekh, his doggo form, and Ruby Sunday. This might explain why Ruby’s birth mother has been obscured- she never existed. Whoever left Ruby at the church that day could have been a servant of Sutekh, or even Susan Triad herself.

The tone of the episode by this point is very gloomy. I think the last time Doctor Who gave me the creeps to this degree was “The Impossible Astronaut.” As a fan of dark and disturbing movies, I consider myself rather resilient to horror and dread in media. But there is something about turning the TARDIS into a malevolent force that chills me to my core. Bad Wolf Girl once said “You know the sound the TARDIS makes? That wheezing, groaning. That sound brings hope wherever it goes.” But here, the TARDIS offers no comfort. It goes beyond seeing our beloved symbol of hope twisted and perverted. We have seen what the TARDIS is capable of doing. We know how powerful it can be. We can also imagine what that power can do in the wrong hands. My dear late friend Quinn and I used to say that the cloister bell was the scariest sound the TARDIS could make. But this howling groan and sinister energy turning into a hound of Hell is like the cloister bell on steroids.

The Doctor and Mel head off to S Triad Technologies in the vain hope that Susan might be the Doctor’s granddaughter Susan. It’s a last-ditch effort to gain insight into what is happening. Earlier in the episode, we see Kate telling the Doctor that he brings joy, but after Chidozie’s death, you get the impression that her view has sobered up a bit. The Doctor sees the fear in Kates eyes. He sees the fear in Carla’s eyes. He even let down his best friend Ruby. But it’s Mel who picks him back up. Mel who has seen him at his worst and knows who the Doctor is underneath it all. Only she can give him the tough love he needs in this moment and I loved that they gave this opportunity to Bonnie Langford.

The Doctor makes contact with Susan Triad but there is no Time Lord recognition on either end. However, we’ve been here before. Maybe she has a fob watch she doesn’t like to look at. Maybe she’s hiding away. With her press conference due to begin, Susan is whisked away. But as she leaves the Doctor calls out asking if she’s ever dreamed of a girl named Lindy. Has she ever dreamed about a place called Pacifico Del Rio? Has she ever dreamed about being an ambulance? Out of context, he sounds insane. I mean, sure, I dream of being a sail barge, but that’s my special time. It’s enough to set things into motion.

At this point, we still don’t know the true identity of Susan Triad. She very well could still be the Doctor’s granddaughter. But the moment she walked onstage doing that awkward Theresa May arm thing, I knew she had to be evil. Historically speaking, if you want someone to appear evil in Doctor Who, compare them to a Tory. It worked in “The Happiness Patrol,” and it still works now. Could you imagine being the person who milkshakes Sutekh? I feel like throwing a sweet banana dairy concoction into the face of a terrible god would only resort in eternal suffering. While Susan Triad is having her public meltdown for all to see, UNIT’s own Harriet Arbinger is doing one as well. Once again we get another Harbinger. I’ll be honest, the H. Arbinger joke isn’t nearly as strong as RTD seems to think it is. But then again, Batman is the “world’s greatest detective,” and it took him a while to learn that E. Nigma was the Riddler.

I had begun to fully suspect Sutekh by this point, but part of me was starting to wonder if Harriet wasn’t going to turn out to be Sutekh instead. It would have been a very effective misdirect. I was really liking Harriet up to this point too, so I was a bit sad she just turned out to be a servant of the God of Death. Her “I was born for this,” line had me a little hot under the collar. But it looks like she’s gonna get a lot to do in the next episode, so that softens the blow a little bit. As she names off the various gods of the Pantheon, I was very happy to see them reference the Mara as I am a big fan of both “Kinda,” and “Snakedance.” Some have also speculated that the threefold deity of malice, mischief and misery could be a reference to the Gods of Ragnarok. I really hope this is true because I’ve always thought they were cool.

I’ve seen some people complain that they seem to have somewhat retconned Sutekh. People have said it makes no sense to make him the god of gods. He’s an Osiran, not the most powerful god of them all, right? Well, if you think about it, in many ways, death is the ultimate power. If a god like the Toymaker can die, then of course he would run from Sutekh. Also, he’s a god, of course he’s going to claim to be the best. That’s kind of their whole deal. They’re quite full of themselves, gods. Sutekh’s whole deal is that he believes himself the only being worthy of life. Thus all living creatures are an affront to him. Where he treads, he leaves only dust and darkness. Sutekh demonstrates this by reducing Susan Triad’s poor assistant to dust much like he did to Chidozie. With the TARDIS commandeered by evil Anubis and the Doctor being next in line to receive Sutekh’s gift, things have never looked darker for our Time Lord and saviour.

So who was Susan Triad? Was she always Sutekh? Harriet referred to Sutekh as “the mother, father, and other of them all.” I suppose I should start using they/them pronouns for Sutekh. But who were they? Did every incarnation of Sutekh know they were Sutekh? You could wager that they had a hand in a lot of what was happening, and a lot of what was happening could lead to death. The Space Babies were forced into existence and left to die. Roger ap Gwilliam and the Maestro were set on nuclear annihilation. Lindy and her lot were racists which often leads to death. And let's not forget the cold algorithm of the capitalistic war machines from Villengard. What’s even more interesting then is that if these are all aspects of Sutekh and death, then we know Sutekh is stoppable. In “73 Yards,” we’re shown that whatever Ruby’s follower said to Sutekh was enough to send them scurrying. Sadly, Ruby has no memory of this aborted timeline.

With a new episode of “Tales from the TARDIS,” in the pipeline, I expect we’ll see the return of the memory TARDIS in a big way. According to news sources, the new episode will feature the Doctor and Ruby discussing the events of “Pyramids of Mars,” so make sure to watch that if you need a refresher or have never seen the original. One aspect you might find interesting is that Sutekh initially manifests at a priory on the site of the original UNIT HQ. I have no idea if that will come into play, but it’s interesting that both stories are focused around UNIT, if nothing else. Even more interesting is the fact that in both stories, Sutekh is intent on possessing the TARDIS. I wonder if the Doctor will be forced to use the memory TARDIS to stop Sutekh since the regular TARDIS is compromised. We see Ruby’s memory begin to manifest once more when she and Sullivan enter the time window again. It’s entirely plausible.

I’ll be watching the finale like many others in the UK this weekend, at the movie theatre. The last time I got to see a Doctor Who episode in the theatre was in Kansas City when they simulcast “The Day of the Doctor,” at a local indie-theatre. I’ll never forget the feeling of a theatre packed with nerds cheering over Peter Capaldi’s attack eyebrows. I’m also going to see it in the theatre because, evidently, this is a big enough episode to merit a cinematic experience. I bought nine tickets, so it’s going to be a bit of an event for me. I’ll try not and let that colour my experience too much. All in all, I loved this episode, but we’re still waiting for the other shoe to drop. I loved “Fugitive of the Judoon,” but the lacklustre finale left me retroactively disappointed. But for the time being, RTD has my full attention. I can’t remember the last time Doctor Who left me this excited for what’s to come.

[goldeneyedgirl]

Ficmas24 Day 7: Deaf Mary-Alice

Good evening, tonight I bring you another popular request: Deaf Mary-Alice. Because one of the upcoming posts is quite dark at this point, I chose a wholesome section just for a little bit of fluff.

Deaf Mary-Alice kind of just exists without a fixed timeline, so at some point (probably once STL is complete), I'll go through and polish a lot of these AUs for supplemental material.

Anyway, I've spent all day on holiday tasks (baking, mostly) so I will love and leave you, and hope you enjoy!

Jasper’s oddly surprised that none of the Cullens are immediately clued in that Mary-Alice isn’t an ‘old friend’. As if the way she greets him isn’t a beacon that there was more to the story.

But then, they aren’t normal vampires. They are too human, too domesticated, and there’s so much lost in translation because of all the instincts they suppress. Sometimes he wonders if any of Carlisle’s creations know half the things they should; if any of them could actually survive as nomads.

But it’s a cruel thought that he dismisses. It’s just frustrating that there is so much disconnect between them and him; like a language that they never bothered to learn.

For the first weeks of her arrival, he and Mary-Alice cloister themselves in his study to… well, he would use the euphemism ‘catch up’, but a very large percentage of that time is spent naked, sprawled out on his couch.

(She might make the first move, simply planting a brain-altering kiss on him that first night. It feels like catching smoke in his hands - no one is truly lucky enough to get a second chance like this, and he doesn’t know how long it will last so he’ll treasure every second of her affections - and he’s not letting go. He doesn’t have the words to explain to her that it’s been so long and he missed her like someone had carved it out of him. He’s spent sixty years walking around forgetting what it was like to have her close, and now every single thing about his life, about himself, has been shaken to the core by how much she has always meant to him.)

The Cullens are interested in Mary-Alice, and he’s happy to translate for her. Esme expresses her happiness that Jasper had someone like Mary-Alice in the south, and he honestly assumes that Esme is diplomatically alluding to their relationship because it couldn’t have passed anybody’s notice that they’ve spent the best part of three weeks having sex on every piece of furniture in his study.

No one says anything when Mary-Alice greets him with a kiss to the cheek, to the hand; the way she wraps and coils herself around him, orbits him the moment he returns from school. He’s the same - kisses on the forehead and cheek; long, silent conversations where neither of them notice the time passing, holding her tightly against him when they are watching a movie or hanging out in the living room. Maybe it seems normal to them, that vampires from the wars seek out touch from trusted companions to undercut the violence of their survival. A way to shelter from all the horrors, for him to protect the vulnerable.

(They hunt alone and afterwards, she draws him close, her eyes bright and happy. He loves her giggles when he sweeps her up into his arms to kiss her. Or when he pulls her down into the grass and moss and soft dirt to lick blood off her mouth and cheeks and fingers. She swipes bloody fingers across his cheek and neck and tears off his shirt to trail them over his chest and down his stomach. Her tongue and teeth follow the trail, and she intentionally looks away so she can’t see his protests - it’s the only way that animal blood tastes good to her, she tells him later. And when they walk back to the house with torn clothes and a lightness that he doesn’t understand, he truly wonders how they managed to get to this place from where they started.)

It’s a daisy-chain of realisations for the Cullens; maybe he and Mary-Alice get careless. Maybe to them, it’s so obvious that it doesn’t seem like something they need to police or even think about. It just is.

Esme is the first, and walks in on them kissing in the living room. Actually, kissing is probably a polite euphemism, because he’s got her pinned against the arm of the sofa, with her skirt bunched up over her hips and his fingers teasing at her hipbone and his old scar there (not even a proper bite, just a playful back from one of the first times he took her to bed. Gangly and enthusiastic but lost was the only way to describe her that night; one of their best nights, honestly. No sorrow or worry or pain. Just him relearning that sex could be healing and fun, and not a power struggle.) She’s cradling his face as they kiss, and in the back of his head, he’s already preparing to scoop her up and take her upstairs but it feels so easy and normal just to lie on the couch and make-out like teenagers for a while.

“Oh!” Esme stumbles in surprise when she enters the room, her eyes round with surprise. The emotion practically slaps him in the face - pure shock, laced with embarrassment and affection.

Mary-Alice is giggling and signing her apologies as she pushes him off her.

“I didn’t know you two were…” Esme’s bursting with happiness now, the idea of Jasper having found his lost love occurring to her.

Mary-Alice’s response is blunt and graphic, so he doesn’t translate; he’s also distracted.

“Edward didn’t mention it?” But Edward shouldn’t have needed to; he doesn’t think they’ve been subtle.

(Fuck, it’s easy to think that when Mary-Alice is sitting on the unused kitchen table, signing exactly what she wants him to do to her whilst Carlisle is going over some legal documents he needs to get Jenks to take care of, but none of them speak their language. None of them have any reason to think that his strange, half-wild girl is propositioning him in very intense detail because they still see her as the poor, disabled waif in from the cold.)

“I don’t think Edward knows, he’s been spending so much time with Bella,” Esme says and then immediately reaches out and takes Mary-Alice’s hands; something that makes her tense up because that’s how she communicates. It’s the social equivalent of taking someone who can speak by the throat, especially down south. “Darling girl, we are so happy you’re here and you found Jasper again.”

Now she’s also confused and oddly touched by Esme’s earnest statement, and she awkwardly withdraws her hands to sign her gratitude.

Emmett and Rosalie are next, a few hours later. They’re both wearing clothing, and he’s sitting on the floor with a book and one of her legs thrown over his shoulder, his finger teasing at her ankle. She’s on the couch, with the other leg tucked underneath her, as she very carefully stitches together a new dress. It’s the kind of casual togetherness that he’s seen Rosalie and Emmett, Carlisle and Esme engage in over the years that always puzzled him. Now it’s here and it just happens? There’s not guiding words, just falling together in the moment. Occasionally one of her hands runs through his hair, or she’ll lean forward to say something, or he’ll absently rest his head against her leg, even press a kiss against her knee.

That’s when Rosalie barges in without knocking; his lips pressed against her knee, the sand and sugar scent of her around him. The little rumble of pleasure that she makes as his thumb rubs circles over her ankle.

“So it’s true?” Rosalie says, thunderclouds brewing.

“What’s true?” He’s irritated that they didn’t knock; just because he and Mary-Alice are clothed doesn’t mean that this moment isn’t private.

“That you and Mary-Alice were desecrating the couch when she got home?” Emmett sticks his head around the door and clumsily signs. “Hi short-stack.”

She flips him the finger and then asks him the meaning of ‘desecrate’ because that’s certainly not in their vocabulary.

“To ruin,” Rosalie enunciates rudely.

Mary-Alice leans forward so he can see her sign.

“I didn’t think we were that quiet? I can be louder,” she offers and he smirks before looking at his siblings.

“Mazel tov,” is all Emmett says. Rosalie looks like she cannot decide whether to storm off (is Mary-Alice better or worse for having been in love with Jasper? It means she’ll definitely stay, but she also has a better reason. It’s all tangled up in Rosalie’s overprotectiveness of her family, of staying safe in every way that matters. She hates change, but there are reasons that are more acceptable than others) or start lecturing.

“Esme did not catch us doing anything you two haven’t done to a dozen couches,” Jasper replies lazily, signing over his head for Mary-Alice, who immediately starts laughing. “Mary-Alice has offered to be louder next time so that you get adequate warning to our activities.”

“If Jasper really puts his back into it, I can be a screamer.” Mary-Alice says casually and that’s enough for him to choke a little and for Emmett to burst out laughing and Rosalie to look a little more pinched.

“Are my efforts inadequate?” He asks and Mary-Alice wriggles around to be able to lean over and kiss his cheek.

“You are perfect.” The sign for that is an old one, one that replaces humour with the memory of a long ago battle, of a tantrum born of frustration that she nearly got him hurt because she was different.

He’d told her that, fumbling to combine all their signs into something that meant what he needed her to know - that however she had been put together, however she had woken up, it was exactly and precisely as she was meant to be and nothing could improve on that. And when things got back for him, it was that same sign she would use. You are perfect.

(Maybe that was how they told each other, that first time, that they loved each other. Before he could verbalise it, could let himself consider that she was a fundamental part of himself and the world he inhabited, he was reassuring her with words that convinced her that if he could remake her a million times over, he wouldn’t change a single thing.)

[the-phantom-author]

Wilbur Soot | Dadbur

Dadbur, dadbur, dadbur

These took like four days, and keeps getting deleted so there's more but I can't bring myself to rewrite them. Enjoy.

@starsyoubreaklikesugardust

As stated before, Wilbur could not hack being there during the actual birth, he is very supportive of you having whoever in there with you. You can bet that he is all in his head full of worry until he see the both of you. When he does he is in tears, like his two favorite girls are right there, healthy and okay.

He wants his daughter to be sleeping in your room for as long as possible, the crib is on his side of the bed, easy access for him when she wakes up in the middle of night. He does this because A) he’s worried something will happen in the middle of the night, and wants to be able to get to her as fast as possible and B) He wants to do everything for her as he can, the first couple of months are hard, both because a newborn is a lot and you’re still healing and trying to feel like a normal human person again.

He wants to keep his baby bubble as long as possible, he’s just in love with the sight of you and your baby, his baby, and he has this selfish desire to preserve that sight and feeling for himself (“No Tommy you can not come over-”). The moment that you suggest letting some people over he’s inviting everyone he knows. He loves to show off his little family, to anyone really, still doesn't love posting about it online (Wil and his weird sense of privacy).

GIrl scout dad (does the uk have girl scouts???). The most competitive person with it as well, he’s Planting trees? Science Projects? He’s doing it all.

He loves telling people stories about his daughter, If he’s waiting in line at the store, meeting a fan, or in an interview. He really can not help himself in interviews. “Yeah, with the new album we actually had my kid be the first person to listen to them, she loves them all.”Sometimes its just talking about arts and crafts that they’ve done recently.

He adores doing her hair, he’s really bad at it, but he loves that quality time. It becomes the main reason why he becomes a morning person. Once she starts going to school she goes to you to do it, but only after Wil has tried.

I also feel like she never left her “why” phase. Like you can overhear conversations that are just “What’s that” “A coffe maker” “What do?” “It makes Coffee” How” and it would just go on until either wil or you can’t explain it anymore.

Family trips, to science museums, petting zoos, aquariums, butterfly houses, and libraries.He really tries to make any outing memorable for his girls, because you both deserve the best.

When he leaves to go on tours, she always gives him her favorite stuffed animal, and tells him to take care of it. And he does, he’ll take out to any resturant or cafe or venue he’s in and takes pictures of it so you can show your daughter. He also picks up one stuffed animal every tour he’s on for her, and a bunch of small trinkets one from every city.

She likes her dad carrying her because he is 6 '5 and she likes to feel tall. She also expresses her desire to be tall by climbing on everything, couches, fridges, counters, tables, trees, honestly if you can name it she’ll get on top of it.

Wilbur likes to dance with her, no matter how old she is, he wants to dance with her. When she’s a baby, he likes swaying with her. When she’s up to his kneecaps he has her stand on his feet and does a poorly executed ballroom type dance. She gets enrolled in a dance class when she’s young and it’s one of his favorite activities to do with her.

She also likes to collect things with the both of you. Flowers mainly, she’ll always have someone press/preserve them. When she gets older she likes to send them to people with letters. She also likes to collect postcards and will demand that you go to the post office in every city you’re in.

He gets super into dress up, always gets proper outfits (Chefs uniforms, Princess dress, fFeather boas). He even gets his daughter to put makeup on him, this always comes with him making sure that she knows that she does not and will not ever need makeup and how it's only being used because it’s fun and pretty. He will always compliment the final look and make you get a picture of it.

He always hates when she has to go to the doctor's office with her. He gets really nervous, and is constantly sending you text messages about how it’s going and what the doctor is saying. Heaven forbid she gets sick while he’s on tour, he is constantly face time with you and he does make an effort to give her a shout out at every show. “This show tonight is for my daughter, who is unfortunately riddled with a really bad case of an achy tummy.”

There are several “official” recording of every song he has helped make, where in reality its just him holding her close to a mic as she babbles in babyish something that sorta sounds like the lyrics.

Wilbur can’t really cook, we know this, we know that he has bad taste buds, which means that he is no help in the kitchen. This being said he will absolutely hold his daughter on his hip, narating whatever it is that you are doing.

I am a firm believer that he grows a garden with his little family. Sunflowers, azaleas, whatever his two girls want. He’d be out there desperately trying to teach her how to plant flowers and grow a proper garden.

[skittikyu]

Stiltikyu Relationship Chart ! More info + duo names + a song I think fits said duo under the cut !

Stiltikyu and Caine (Duo Name - Toothpick)

Stiltikyu gets along with Caine surprisingly well considering he’s essentially their warden. She’s a lot more lenient with him than they would have been if he was another human acting the way that he does, though. They still treat him like a person of course- he’s not any less of a personality just because he’s an AI- but the things he says and does, the way he responds to other people’s words and actions, they can at least make some sense of them when they keep it in mind. Is it still a lot? Sometimes. Most times, really. But in this situation, slight knowledge is better than none, and helps when she needs to figure out how to ask or tell him something in a way he’ll actually understand. They’ve found that asking upfront (essentially just telling them they want/need something) is the fastest way to gauge what he is and isn’t willing or capable of doing. She also does genuinely appreciate his attempts at being accommodating everyone’s needs when it’s apparent he doesn’t fully grasp them, which again, makes her more accepting of the times and areas said efforts fall short. A silver lining to this is it also gives them plenty of ways of throwing him off guard for fun, especially when his responses are funny to them in ways he couldn’t have meant them to be.

Caine for his part treats Stiltikyu just as he would any other member of his circus! I could see him appreciating her active engagement in performances and activities- while being a bit confused by her sense of humour at times -but overall he’d like them no matter what as he does for all the humans under his care.

Their Song: Welcome to the Circus by Skittish

Kinger (Duo Name - Stickbug)

Stiltikyu was a bit wary of Kinger when she first arrived; his outbursts startled them and his short term memory combined with his rambling made it difficult to hold a conversation with him. Once she’d had some more time to get used those things and learned more about him, the more they warmed up to him, though. Despite not even being in his 50s yet, he reminds her of an old man with dementia, and they jokingly/affectionately refer to him as “peepaw” sometimes - moreso with others than to his face (they don’t want to confuse him more than he already always is). Similarly to a grandpa though, sometimes he has moments of insight and they learn all kinds of useful facts about this new world and their current situation within it. When it was mentioned to her that Kinger was the tallest before they came along, he became the first in the circus she would offer piggyback rides to. This was somewhat jokingly mind you, but she still lets him on their shoulders when he occasionally does ask for a boost. Maybe looking down on everything makes him feel more regal? That or he’s probably just hoping the higher vantage point will make it easier to find insects.

Kinger’s friendship with Stiltikyu is probably somewhat impacted by his mental state, but I definitely see him being more friendly during moments of lucidity, but a bit more distant when he’s panicked or otherwise having a moment. It’s not like he forgets her or anything, she just hasn’t been around for long enough that their friendship would be a core memory in his fragmented mind.

Their Song: Remember You by Rebecca Sugar (Omnicord Cover)

Gangle (Duo Name - Maypole)

Two weebs enjoyers of anime who happened to find one another in this ridiculous situation. Upon arriving, Stiltikyu would tell Gangle all about new series she’s never seen and new episodes of old ones she never got the chance to see since coming to the circus (after double/triple/etc checking she’s fine with the spoilers on the rare chance they get out and she can go see them for herself). Much to everyone else’s relief, the anime conversations got less frequent with time, but it’s still a comfort topic they occasionally return to, as it helps them refresh their memories a bit and confirm the details they still recall together. Another hobby the two learned they had in common was an interest in drawing. Stiltikyu is unfortunately no longer able to do so in the traditional sense due to their digital world’s avatar’s lack of hands, but they’ve found other ways to make art, and usually hang out with Gangle when doing so. Stiltikyu admires Gangle’s ability to be so open with her emotions and (even if she disagrees) to them, her open crying doesn’t make her weak. To them, she’s the strongest one here. Maybe that’s not saying much, but if they were ever to feel ready to be vulnerable with anyone, it’d probably be her so long as they could figure out how to do so without making her feel responsible for them. It’s safe to say Stiltikyu feels the closest and most comfortable with Gangle, though they’ll be taking those feelings to their grave if they can help it, mostly on account of them being stronger (if not entirely one-sided) on their end.

Gangle probably appreciates being treated kindly and the attention given to her feelings and interests, though she might not be used to receiving that sort of treatment and unsure of how to accept it while the comedy mask is off.

Their Song: Must Have Been the Wind by Alec Benjamin

Ragatha (Duo Name - KnittingNeedle)

Stiltikyu finds Ragatha the one it’s easiest to have the most serious “grown-up” conversations with, likely due to her maturity and more down-to-earth personality. At the same time, she reminds them of a big sister whose undergone parentification, and so they walk a delicate balance while broaching difficult topics; not so little that she bottles up but also not so much that she begins to spiral. While they make sure to express to her how strong she is for being so resilient yet kind despite all odds, they’re also very open with her about how they think she should be putting herself first more: just because she’s somewhat skilled at emotionally supporting others doesn’t mean she’s equipped to do so, and even if it is deep down appreciated by everyone (which they’re sure it would be, if it were ever to become missed), it’s so clearly taken as a given at this point that it’s become a thankless task she almost resents them for not meeting in ways of returned effort. They’re aware that they probably frustrate her by not being more involved when they’re so insistent that they don’t want her to shoulder the burdens of others just because nobody else will, but they’re hoping maybe living by example will eventually prove to her that it’s possible to live with compassion and integrity while still maintaining healthy expectations of boundaries. Therapists and social workers get paid money, much less gratitude. Point is, they’d hug her if they had joints, let alone arms. …okay so they say the same thing as an excuse for not getting rid of centipedes for her too, but the former statement is actually true. Stiltikyu’s small crush on Gangle formed from time spent and closeness formed together over shared hobbies, but their small crush on Ragatha is mostly because they think she’s the prettiest here (aside from the moon, but that’s its own can of worms). Love a woman who can kick their [censorbar]. They keep anything that could be interpreted as flirting to themself, though, as they don’t want her to get the wrong idea, nor feel embarrassed or like they’re making fun of her (it doesn’t take much observation to tell she’s not exactly a beacon of confidence and self worth, after all). Hasn’t stopped them from (somewhat) jokingly referring to her as a MILF in their head, though.

Ragatha likely treats Stiltikyu as she does the rest of the circus, though I can see her having moments where they frustrate or annoy her a bit. It’s never as bad as it is with Jax, but their sense of humour is still a little much for her at times.

Their Song: The Fixer by Brent Morgan

Bubble (Duo Name - BubbleWand)

Admittedly Stiltikyu doesn’t know that much about Bubble - he basically only ever interacts with Caine, and usually that results in him being popped away eventually. Still, they find him cute (as in like a puppy), and has no idea why Caine finds him so annoying. She jokingly refers to him as “that little chainchomp mother [censorbar] er”.

If Bubble’s even capable of strong opinions outside of his function as an AI, I don’t see him having any about them one way or the other.

Their Song: Pop It by Anamanaguchi (Gerald Remix)

Pomni (Duo Name - Marotte)

Stiltikyu hasn’t really had enough time to get a good read on Pomni yet. She only just arrived, and has essentially spent all of the little time she’s been there having a prolonged panic attack. They eventually do want to get to know her better, even if it’s just to get a better idea of who she truly is as a person. Maybe they shouldn’t, because that thought is usually followed by “-while they still have the chance to”, but they can’t help it that they find her interesting. Yes, they say that about basically everyone they’ve ever met here. Yes, it usually bites them in the [censorbar] later. Sucks to suck.  Right now they’re only slightly unsure of her. On one hand, it’s said to believe someone when they show you who they really are, and she abandoned Ragatha twice. On the other, fight/flight/freeze is a thing, and she at least has enough of a conscious to clearly feel guilty. Would she if her escape had succeeded? Who knows. That’s why they need more information. Besides, another member who’d be swearing like a sailor if allowed? LET’S [censorbar] ING GOOOOOO!! Part of them finds her expressions and reactions really funny in a cute way (do you see the way her pupils dilate??), but it’s not like they want her to suffer if it means seeing them. They’re not Jax. Behind Kinger, Pomni is the second most likely to be offered a piggyback ride by them. She’s just..SO small. How is she older than them?? Who knows, maybe if an exit spawns on the ceiling she’ll take them up on the offer for one. Haha, they joke to cope.

I genuinely doubt Pomni is in a headspace to give anyone a second thought right now, but it’s possible that later she and Stiltikyu would become friends. As of now, they probably just unnerve and startle her like the rest of this colourful cast.

Their Song: Karakuri Pierrot by 40meterP (MORE MORE JUMP! cover)

Jax (Duo Name - RabbitSkewer)

Stiltikyu puts up “gets along” with Jax better than anyone would’ve expected. Or maybe it isn’t all that surprising: the execution and results may be entirely different, but the method of coping with humour and by being an overall nuisance are the same. Not all bets are off when it comes to her usual self-restraint, but definitely more of them than everybody else. Jax reminds her of some sort of amalgamation of a school bully and a little brother, and she learnt pretty quickly not only that he isn’t exactly thrilled to take back whatever he dishes out, but that torment loses its entertainment value to him significantly if he considers the reaction- or lacktherof -subpar. Her, response is, of course, to do both, leading to a lot of back and forth banter. She’s picked up on things about them that annoy him and uses those to her advantage, like how tall she is compared to him (digital world memory issues be damned: the appalled, offended look on his face when she called him “shortstack” after he called them “stringbean” will be branded into their mind forever) and how good their balance is (for crying out loud, they have stilts for legs, why would he ever think it’d be easy to trip or push them over? Maybe he can think about that while he’s hopping up and down holding the foot he just kicked their solid wooden leg with). It’s not like it’s impossible, but the ratio of times he’s actually managed to get them to fall down is very much not in his favour, and she enjoys knowing the way that must bruise his ego. Finally, deep down she genuinely doesn’t believe he’s that bad. It’s not like he secretly has a heart of gold or anything, he’s still genuinely an [censorbar] hole. It’s more like his “big secret” is that he has a heart at all. They never call him out during moments where his actions speak louder than his words, though. She just observes the bigger picture from up high. He’s a selfish mean “little man” (they’re definitely gonna deploy that as a nickname at some point) but he’s not entirely cruel or devoid of consideration. In Stiltikyu’s opinion, he’s clever and a quick thinker to have kept up this (semi) facade for as long as he has, but well, he can’t hide everything. For both their sakes she won’t say anything, though. A bunny with an unwounded pride and his guard not up even more than it already is makes him a bit more predictable and thereby easier to manage on a bad mental health day.

I can see Jax’s feelings about Stiltikyu turning on a dime depending on the situation. One second he’s like hey maybe ol’ giraffe legs isn’t so bad and then one (1) thing doesn’t go his way and it’s back to she could abstract right in front of me and I’d laugh! LAUGH, I tell ya! So yeah, they could be anything from a mutual comedy routine to contentiously battling in a war of pranks, to one trying to avoid the other, both avoiding eachother, etc. Lots of joking, laughing, bickering, yelling, threats of bodily harm, bodily harm itself…it’s all very dependant on time and place overall.

Maybe they’ll even out over time. Maybe they’ll get even more volatile. With time, Jax could get better or Stiltikyu could get worse. If they both get worse..

Their Song: Monster by dodie

Zooble (Duo Name - Tinkertoy)

Stiltikyu…doesn’t know much about Zooble, and vice versa. They both tend to keep to themselves (them moreso than her; she at least makes an effort to participate in the shows and activities), so they the instances where they’re actually around one another for more than a passing moment are few and far between. As far as she can tell, the one thing they have in common is that they’re both nonbinary (Stiltikyu uses both they/them and she/her pronouns, and relates to Zooble’s gender identity crisises) so she internally feels solidarity with them, even if it isn’t outright kinship. She wouldn’t mind spending more time with them, but she’s not going to push it if they really do just like their own company. She’s noticed moments of vulnerability and consideration from them, so is at least somewhat aware that their indifferent attitude is likely partially a front, but she respects them enough not to bring it up, and keeps her ribbing humour to a minimum with them; a [censorbar] ed off Zooble isn’t good for anyone.

I feel like there’s a lot of potential for these two! It’s just on them to take initiative, which, neither are doing currently. Zooble probably just can’t be bothered, and Stiltikyu doesn’t want to bother them.

Their Song: People I Don't Like by UPSAHL

[unpredictable-probabilities]

Tomorrows Over Centuries || Chapter 2: Stars Present

Summary:

Hob takes Morpheus on a little food trip after their meeting at The New Inn. Along the way, he learns more about what his friend likes, and discovers what he definitely likes about his friend.

He can't help but daydream especially when standing so close to Morpheus, but everything should be fine as long as he kept such thoughts to himself. It's not like Morpheus can read his mind.

Word Count: 6,078

— —

“Waiting for someone, sir?” Luke smiled as he set down a glass of orange juice on the table.

Hob looked up at him distractedly. Luke was one of the newer staff at The New Inn, and he had no idea just how many times Hob had sat at that table to keep his eye on the front door. Hob never intended to be obvious about it, but the older staff members had definitely noticed and had been known to give him vague words of encouragement on occasion.

“Yeah, just a friend,” Hob smiled. He could call him that now, and he was sure that said friend would actually show up today.

“Can I get you anything else, then? Something for your friend?” Luke asked politely.

Hob thought about it. In all the time he’d known Morpheus, they’ve always had alcohol or tea. He wanted to find out what else his friend would like. Besides, they could always order something else if Morpheus didn’t like whatever he picked.

“A cup of hot chocolate, please,” Hob answered. “But bring it over once he’s already here. Not sure what time he’d arrive, and we don’t want it getting cold.”

“Noted, sir,” Luke nodded and walked away.

When Hob looked at the door again, Morpheus was already walking towards him.

“Morpheus.” Hob grinned as his friend sat down across from him. “Glad you could come.”

“I said I would,” Morpheus smiled.

And how wonderful was that? Now they could spontaneously say they want to hang out the next day and it would happen. It was something that Hob never even dared to hope for back then.

Luke came back and brought a saucer and cup of hot chocolate in front of Morpheus. “Good morning, sir.”

Hob nodded a thanks before Luke walked away.

“New item,” Hob explained as Morpheus eyed the drink. “I thought to add some when this place was first built.”

Morpheus looked at him curiously. “You own this establishment?”

Hob grinned. “Yeah. I found out that they were closing down ‘The White Horse’, so I decided to buy the deed to it and rebuild it here, with a new name and menu.”

“Why go through such trouble?” Morpheus furrowed his eyebrows.

“Had to find a way to still keep seeing you, didn’t I?” Sometimes Hob forgot that Morpheus really didn’t know how much their meetings meant to him.

A smile pulled at the corners of Morpheus’ lips. “And I am grateful that you did.”

Hob relished in the warmth that that smile gave him. “Why were you at The White Horse back in 1389? What business would a dream deity have in a pub in the middle of nowhere?”

“None. But my sister had always been insistent that I mingle with humans. On that day, she all but dragged me into that tavern, and we overheard you talking to your friends about immortality. She was the one who gave you that gift.”

Hob furrowed his eyebrows. Now that was entirely new information; he had always assumed that it was Morpheus who gave it to him. Not that it changed anything, really. It had never mattered much to him why he had been granted immortality. He cared more for the fact that it allowed him to meet with this enigma of a being every hundred years.

“Your sister? Why does she have that kind of power? What’s she a deity of?” Hob tried to recall his vague knowledge of different pantheons.

Morpheus took a moment before answering. “I have told you that I have many names. One of them is ‘Dream’, as I am responsible for ensuring that humans dream safely. My sister’s name is Death; she is the one who granted you immortality.”

Hob’s eyebrows lifted as his mind reeled with so many questions, but he did his best to stay on track with their conversation. “Okay, okay, the actual deity of death gave me immortality. Alright. Uh, why choose me, out of everyone in that pub? And why was it you who told me about the gift and not her?”

“Would you have preferred it if it had been her instead?”

It sounded like a serious question, but Hob knew Morpheus well enough to catch the glimpse of mischief in his eye. “Shut up, you know I don’t.”

Morpheus smiled at that. “I had told her that I didn’t understand why any human would crave an eternity of this life, and her solution was to grant your wish of immortality so I could find out the answer for myself. I volunteered to be the one to speak with you about it.”

Hob took a moment to process all of that. He supposed that that was simply how powerful immortal siblings helped each other understand things, through displays of power that fundamentally changed certain elements of the world.

“Do you? Understand now, I mean, why a human would choose immortality.” Hob had always been curious about the answer.

Morpheus slightly tilted his head in thought. “Not entirely. From what I’ve seen, you wanted to keep living because of you, and how you experience the world. If it were any other human, I do not know if they would have kept choosing to live after each century. Therefore, I am just as interested in you now as in your experiences. Perhaps even more so.”

Hob wasn’t sure if he just imagined the softness at that last remark, but he momentarily dropped his gaze to his drink and took a second to compose himself. Morpheus looking at him with those piercing blue eyes while saying those words did things to him, and if Hob wasn’t careful he might end up doing things to Morpheus himself.

“Have you actually been mingling with other humans, then, like what your sister said?” He asked curiously. “Or do you just go outside your realm every hundred years whenever we have to meet?”

“I do visit the Waking world more frequently now than seven centuries ago, though perhaps not quite as much as my sister would want me to.” Morpheus picked up his cup and took a sip of the hot chocolate. “It’s sweeter than I had expected. I like it,”  he clarified to answer Hob’s questioning look.

Hob grinned. “I’m glad you do. And I know you don’t need to, but do you ever eat or drink anything just because you want to?”

“I do so during our meetings.”

“Yeah, barely,” Hob said, remembering how Morpheus often refused food and never finished his drinks even halfway. “What do you say to walking around and trying different foods, then? It’s part of the human experience that you’ve been so curious about.”

Morpheus blinked, considering it. Before yesterday, they had never met outside of the pub, and a part of Hob was wondering if Morpheus would like to keep it that way. But then again, they had never so much as shook hands before, and Morpheus initiated a hug last night. Something that Hob knew he’d never be able to forget.

“Alright,” Morpheus replied. “As long as you are not late for your work.”

Hob’s eyebrows raised in surprise. That’s what he had been considering?

Hob smiled. “Nah, don’t worry, there’s plenty of time. And the university’s not far, anyway. Let me just finish my drink and we can go.”

He drank the rest of his orange juice, and was glad to see that Morpheus was finishing his drink, too. His eyes lingered on the bobbing of Morpheus’ throat as he drank, and the pink tongue that darted out when he licked the remaining chocolate on his lips. For a second, Hob questioned the sanity of his plan to take his friend on a food trip.

“Shall we?”

“Hm?” Hob blinked distractedly. “Yeah, let’s go.”

They first went to a pizza store that Hob sometimes bought lunch from. Because of their plan to keep moving, they opted for the seats outside. Hob got them each a slice with both meat and vegetable toppings, and two glasses of lemon iced tea because the weather was a bit warm.

“Is this cheese in the crust?” Morpheus had turned his pizza around to inspect the end of it.

“Ah, yeah. Sometimes people don’t like to eat the crust, so some pizzas are stuffed with cheese or meat to encourage people to eat the whole thing,” Hob explained.

“Hm. Curious that humans would need extra encouragement in order to not waste a bit of food.” Morpheus took a bite of his pizza.

Hob chuckled. “That’s not the most ‘curious’ thing about humans by far. Oh! How do you feel about spicy food? There’s some hot sauce here if you like. It looks like a new brand that I haven’t tried before, though, so I can’t say how spicy it would be,” he gestured to the small bottle on the table.

Morpheus picked it up and drizzled hot sauce on his pizza, far more than what Hob would have put on his own.

“Careful, those things can be really hot,” he warned.

“It will not harm me,” Morpheus said as he put the bottle back down. “Besides, this trip is about maximizing the experience, yes?” He smiled and took a bite, chewing slowly with a thoughtful look on his face. “I see the appeal. Though I enjoy the added flavor more than the spice. Perhaps next time I would not put so much.”

Hob felt a fluttering in his stomach at the “next time”. He smiled and put some hot sauce on his own pizza and took another bite–

Then he dissolved into a coughing fit as heat spread through his mouth and throat.

“Are you alright?” Morpheus asked in concern, his eyes slightly wider.

Hob nodded as he reached for his drink and downed it all in three gulps.

He glared at Morpheus, though there wasn’t any malice to it. “That barely affected you!” he accused. “And you put much more on your pizza than I did!”

Morpheus looked like he was trying hard not to laugh, the corners of his mouth lifting. “It would appear that we have different tolerance levels for such things.” He slid his glass of iced tea over to Hob with an amused smile.

Hob scowled at him and pushed the glass back. “No, that’s yours. You haven’t even tried it yet.” He reached instead for the pitcher of water and poured himself a glass, grateful that the water was cold as he drank it.

They finished their pizza and drinks, and Hob had the idea to go to a yogurt shop next. Partly because Morpheus said he liked sweet things, and partly because his mouth was still burning from the hot sauce.

“I thought I would prefer hot tea, but I admit that iced tea has its charms especially on a warm day,” Morpheus mused as they walked down the pavement.

“If the weather gets too warm, you can take off your coat,” Hob reminded him. “Stash it somewhere in the Dreaming so you won’t have to carry it around.”

Morpheus looked down at his black coat as if only just realizing that he was wearing it. “Quite right. Though I would not mind carrying it around.”

They reached the yogurt shop and took their seats at the barstools lined up along the white countertop.

“Have you ever had yogurt before?” Hob asked curiously. “Or ice cream? Gelato?”

Morpheus shook his head. “I have never seen the need to try them. Though I have an idea of what they are like from several dreams I have seen.”

Hob ordered strawberry yogurt for himself and blueberry for Morpheus, in case his friend didn’t like blueberry and wanted to switch.

Morpheus took off his coat and hung it on the back of his chair just as their orders arrived, and Hob was momentarily distracted by the pale skin of his friend’s arms, especially since he’d never seen Morpheus in short sleeves before.

He decided to focus on the task at hand and turned to Morpheus. “Try it, and if it’s not to your taste we can switch. Though I don’t know if you’d like strawberry either.”

Morpheus took the small spoon and scooped some yogurt in it, eyeing the gradient of white and blue curiously. He raised it to his lips and took a tentative taste, eating just half of it and staining his lips with the yogurt. Then he ate the rest of it on the spoon, pulling the plastic utensil out of his mouth with a little sucking sound that was barely audible but made goosebumps prickle on Hob’s skin. He licked the remaining yogurt on his lips, and for a moment Hob was gripped with the imagery of himself licking Morpheus’ lips clean instead.

“Your food is melting.”

Hob blinked and realized that Morpheus was looking at him. He glanced down at the spoon in his hand, stopped halfway between the cup and his mouth, dripping yogurt.

He hastily put the spoon back in his cup. “It does that. Yogurt melts pretty fast in this weather.”

For the rest of their time there, Hob purposely avoided looking at Morpheus or the way he ate. He was happy to treat his friend to these different foods but Christ. Maybe it was a good thing that Morpheus didn’t eat much during their previous meetings.

Hob didn’t have any other destination in mind, so they decided to just walk the rest of the way to the university while they talked about their work; Hob told Morpheus how his students enjoyed learning about ancient artifacts and language systems, and Morpheus talked about the meticulous process of creating nightmares to ensure that the dreamers would remain safe even as they faced them.

The weather gradually became more cloudy and Morpheus put his coat back on as they reached the more commercialized part of the city. Some beeping noises caught Hob’s attention, and he saw that ahead of them there was an arcade with one of those crane games outside. A group of little kids had just finished playing with it.

Hob smiled as an idea came to him. “Hey, have you ever played with a claw machine?”

Morpheus tilted his head curiously. “What?”

“Come on,” Hob grabbed his wrist and tugged him towards the arcade.

The machine had stuffed toys inside as prizes: blue crescent moons, yellow stars with smiley faces, and black and white kittens barely bigger than Hob’s hand.

“You pick what toy you want, and you use this joystick to maneuver the claw around, then you press this button so it can pick up that toy. Or attempt to, anyway,” Hob explained.

He got some loose change from his pocket and put a coin in the slot to start the game. He aimed for one of the moons since it was angled favorably and he hoped that the crescent shape would make it easier for the claw to pick up. Unsurprisingly, the toy was just nudged aside and fell to its side.

“Harder than it looks,” Hob shrugged. “And I’d never been a kid in this century so I have no idea how to win this thing either. Wanna try?”

Morpheus frowned. “I do not understand. Would it not be more efficient to simply buy a toy than to spend an indefinite amount of money on this machine that might not even give you the prize?”

Hob smiled in good-natured amusement. “It’s not really about the prize, it’s more about the winning. Buying a toy wouldn’t feel the same as winning it, no matter what it is.” He held up a coin to Morpheus. “Your turn.”

Morpheus took it and dropped it in the slot.

People usually played these things while slouched and squinting at the prizes inside–that’s certainly what Hob just did–but Morpheus remained in perfect posture. There was the slightest frown on his forehead as he concentrated on the claw, his gaze quiet in its intensity and his chin ever so slightly lifted. Hob imagined that must be how he looked during diplomatic negotiations with other realms.

The claw grabbed one of the stars, and Morpheus’ eyes narrowed, as if daring the star to fall down.

And it did.

It slipped free as the claw was lifting it up, and the machine made the noise to indicate that the game was done, the words INSERT COIN and TRY AGAIN running across the screen on top.

Morpheus huffed indignantly. “The game is not fair. The claw had clearly picked up that yellow star.”

“That's how it usually is, from what I've seen.”

Hob was about to suggest that they continue walking, but Morpheus was still glaring at the machine like it personally offended him.

Hob fought back a smile and held up another coin. “Wanna go again?”

Morpheus wordlessly took the coin without taking his eyes off the machine. He aimed for a crescent moon this time, and the claw didn't even lift it at all.

Hob reached for a coin again but Morpheus summoned one out of thin air and restarted the game. Hob wondered briefly whether the coin would remain here or disappear later like those medical supplies yesterday.

This time Morpheus leaned in close, peering in through the glass as he maneuvered the controls. The claw lifted a star, but dropped it as soon as Morpheus moved the claw sideways.

“I still do not see the appeal.”

Morpheus was pouting and Hob didn’t bother to hide his smile this time. He had half-expected his friend to just magically pull a prize from the machine, but he was determined to experience it like how a human would. Hob loved that about him.

Despite what he said, Morpheus kept summoning coins and playing the game. Then Hob noticed that instead of aiming to drop the toys in the box in order to win, Morpheus was dropping as many toys as he could in one corner.

“What are you doing?” Hob furrowed his eyebrows at the growing pile of moons and stars and kittens.

“Strategizing.”

Intriguing, but it didn’t really answer his question. The pile grew some more, and Hob watched as Morpheus maneuvered the claw towards the pile and dropped it on top. It grabbed a kitten and two stars, and it slowly lifted up without dropping any of them.

Morpheus carefully moved the claw towards the box; the kitten and a star fell down, leaving one star for him to potentially win. Hob sensed Morpheus tense up as the claw kept moving, and Hob found himself holding his breath.

The claw stopped above the box and dropped their prize inside it.

Bells and lights came on from the machine and the word WINNER! appeared on top in multicolored lights.

Morpheus smirked at the machine, his eyes bright with victory.

Getting to see that, even though he barely did any of the work, Hob felt like he won, too.

His friend bent down to lift up the flap from the box on their side and took the toy.

“For you.” He held out his hand to Hob, the star resting on his palm.

“What?” Hob’s eyes widened in surprise, making no move to take it. “But that’s yours, you won that.”

“Yes. For you.” Morpheus was still holding out the prize to him.

“But… why?” Hob looked at the star and at his friend. “Is it because I bought you pizza and yogurt? I wanted to do those. You don’t have to give me anything in return.”

“I know. I want to. For you, Hob Gadling, I will obtain any star.” Those blue eyes were fixed on Hob, as if Morpheus meant what he said despite his playful smile.

Hob swallowed, unable to look away. God, how we would love to wake up to that face every morning. Opening his eyes and seeing Morpheus’ beautiful face next to him. Snuggle against Morpheus’ neck and stay in bed for a few more hours just enjoying each other’s warmth. For that, Hob would give up all the stars.

Stars. Morpheus’ eyes were suddenly filled with them. The previously blue eyes were now entirely black, save for pinpricks of bright light shining and moving around.

Hob was entranced; the entire city could have blown up at that moment and he wouldn’t have noticed. He felt like he was staring into the heart of a galaxy, and it was staring back at him.

“Your eyes...” he breathed.

Morpheus blinked rapidly a few times, and his blue eyes were back, looking surprised. “I apologize. I seem to have lost control of my human form for a moment.”

“W-What?” Hob slowly returned to his senses, like waking up from a dream. “Wait, you mean that’s what your eyes really look like? They’re beautiful.” He could hear the raw wonder in his voice and he didn’t care, Morpheus deserved to know.

A smile slowly appeared on his friend’s face. “I am… happy. That you feel that way.”

Oh, Hob’s feeling all sorts of things. He’s feeling like he wants to push Morpheus against the claw machine and kiss him senseless. He wants to taste the blueberry yogurt on Morpheus’ tongue. He wants Morpheus to teleport them back to his flat again so he could see what else Morpheus could make him feel.

Morpheus turned to look back out into the street, his posture perfect again. “Is the university still far from here?”

“Hm? Nah, it’s just a few more minutes’ walk. Why, you wanna do anything else? We can try the other games inside.”

Morpheus shook his head. “You still have classes, yes? I do not want to take up your work hours.”

Hob checked his watch. Morpheus was right, if they didn’t start walking to the university now, he might be late to his first class. He thought about suggesting that they just teleport over there so they could have more time with each other, but he didn’t want to seem like he sees his friend like a taxi service.

They came across an ice cream cart on their walk, and Hob instinctively wanted to buy one for Morpheus, but he suddenly had an image in his head of his friend eating out of an ice cream cone and decided against it. Maybe next time when he didn’t have to remain sane for his classes.

Hob greeted the guard at the university and said that Morpheus was his guest. The guard handed them a visitor’s ID that Hob clipped to Morpheus’ coat, and they made the walk to the upper floors.

“How long have you been working here?” Morpheus asked as they stepped through the doorway to Hob’s office.

“About five years now, only got my own office two years ago, though.” Hob closed the door behind them.

Morpheus approached Hob’s desk. On one side was a stack of notebooks for keeping records of things—Hob also had those records in his laptop but there’s a certain comfort to him in writing them down—and on the other was a small horse statue and a pencil holder with various writing utensils and a mail opener. The middle of the desk is clear for use.

“Does this serve a purpose?” Morpheus was about to reach for the statue but he pulled back his hand and looked at Hob. “May I?”

“Go ahead,” Hob nodded. “It doesn’t really do anything, it’s just, you know, a white horse.”

Morpheus looked at him again, the statue in his hands. “The name of the tavern.”

Hob chuckled and hoped that the warmth on his face wasn’t too noticeable. “Yeah. I had a bigger version of it back in 1589. Had to sell it for food several years later. Then some time in 1990 I found that in an antique shop and bought it.”

Morpheus furrowed his eyebrows and put the statue back on the desk. “Why in 1589?”

“Well…” Hob scratched the back of his neck, walking to stand beside Morpheus in front of his desk. “That was the year you walked out on me to talk to Shaxberd.” He tried not to say the name like it was a curse, he really did, but he still cringed internally when he heard his own voice. “Dunno if you remember.”

Morpheus took a step towards him, his eyebrows still furrowed. “I remember. I did not think you would mind.”

“Of course I did,” Hob said sincerely. “It was our one dayin a hundred years where we got to see each other and talk. It was our day. So after watching you walk away with that lad, I told my attendants to have a ridiculously big white horse statue made and brought to my manor.” It felt a bit surreal, recalling how he had attendants and a manor. He was a very different person back then. “I just wanted some sort of claim to you, I suppose, a reminder that The White Horse tavern meant more to us than what Shaxberd would ever understand.”

“I’m sorry,” Morpheus said softly. “It was not my intention to make you feel such things.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Hob smiled and shook his head dismissively. “It was a long time ago, and you were well within your rights to spend the night with whoever you wanted. Especially since I was sort of a pretentious prick back then.” He almost cringed again at remembering the way he spoke and treated other people, especially the tavern staff. “I hope you, uh, had a great night with Shaxberd. Shakespeare. Whoever.”

Morpheus looked at Hob curiously. “Are you thinking that I had bedded Will Shaxberd?”

Hob felt himself flush. “No— I mean— Yes I was thinking that but— It’s really none of my business.”

“I do not engage in casual dalliances.” Morpheus subtly scrunched up his nose for a brief moment. “We merely spoke. I said I would help inspire him with ideas, and he promised to make them come alive. He delivered.”

“Yeah, you don’t need to explain it to me, really,” Hob smiled sheepishly, though he did feel relieved at that knowledge. Besides, he didn’t want to think of Morpheus in that situation. Especially since the other person he imagines with Morpheus definitely isn’t Shaxberd. That train of thought is a slippery slope that Hob didn’t need right now.

Something changed in Morpheus’ expression, his cheekbones had a tinge of red, and for a second Hob could see the stars again before the blue eyes returned. They held an intensity now, almost a promise of danger, and Hob was acutely aware of how he felt thrilled about it rather than scared.

“Morpheus?” Hob asked tentatively, wondering what could have caused this change in his friend.

Then the pieces clicked into place.

Morpheus moving to hug him last night just as he was thinking about it…

Morpheus looking away at the arcade after Hob had thought of pressing him up against the claw machine…

And just now, Morpheus knowing that Hob thought he had slept with Shaxberd…

“Some dreams are louder than others and catch my attention,” Morpheus had said.

Did that include daydreams?

Oh no.

In his shock, his treacherous mind suddenly recalled all the things he'd been daydreaming the entire day about his friend. His efforts to push down such images only brought them to the forefront of his mind even more; it didn't help that Morpheus was standing so close to him. The scent of petrichor and old books and honeyed tea made Hob so heady that he wanted to bury his face in Morpheus’ neck to inhale lungfuls of it.

“Hob.” Morpheus’ strained voice held a warning.

“Oh my god, you can really see them,” Hob muttered, his eyes wide. He took a step back as he felt panic rising up in his chest and blood rushing to his face. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean–” He squeezed his eyes shut for a second before looking apologetically at his friend. “I didn’t know you would see— Look, I understand you’re angry, but— We don’t even have to talk about it, alright? I’ll— I’ll stop thinking about those things, just—”

Morpheus grabbed his arm and pulled him close with surprising strength.

Before he could even give a cry of surprise, Hob felt his lower back pressed against his desk. Then Morpheus descended on him, their lips slotting together.

Hob froze, eyes wide and heart thumping in his throat.

Morpheus moved against him, sucking lightly on his lower lip, and Hob’s mind melted into his body. His hands moved on their own and found the back of Morpheus’ neck, pulling him even closer. Morpheus wrapped his arms around Hob’s waist as their tongues danced against each other, soft and slick and perfect. Morpheus dug his fingernails into Hob’s back, and such a moan escaped him that he dearly hoped no one was on the other side of the door.

Hob would have relished all of it for hours, but unfortunately he was still human and needed to breathe. He pulled away just enough to gasp in air, but he kept their foreheads pressed, his hands in Morpheus’ hair.

“I… I thought you didn’t…” Hob panted, trying to remember how to speak English. “Casual dalliances…”

“Oh, there is nothing casual about this, Hob Gadling.” There was a hunger in Morpheus’ voice, and his eyes were black and starry once more.

Hob attempted to speak but what came out was more of a whimper.

The intensity in Morpheus’ gaze sobered a little, and he loosened his hold on Hob. “If you wish to stop—”

“No,” Hob grabbed Morpheus’ coat and held firm. He was still trying to catch his breath and form coherent sentences, but he definitely knew that stopping was not what he wanted. “I just… why? Why are you doing this?” There was so much hope in Hob’s heart that it hurt.

“Because I want you, Hob Gadling,” he said softly, reaching up to caress Hob’s face. “I want your gentle mornings, your long nights. I want your bright laughter that never fails to bring me warmth. The sparkle in your eyes that puts the most luminous stars to shame. I want to give you everything your heart wishes, and hold you in my own. You are not a casual dalliance, my dearest Hob. You are… everything to me.” He traced his thumb across Hob’s cheekbone, trailing it downwards and following the shape of Hob’s jawline. “And it all but overwhelms me to know that you might want me, too.”

Might? As if Hob ever had any doubt about it. As if his skin didn’t thrum wherever Morpheus touched, as if those words didn’t overwhelm him.

He pulled Morpheus by the coat and crashed their lips together. “Oh you beautiful, impossible creature,” he spoke in between kisses, not wanting to part with Morpheus’ lips longer than necessary to get the words out. “You have no idea… just how much I’ve been wanting you. Far more and for longer than you know.”

Morpheus growled against Hob’s lips and lifted him up, seating him on the desk and making him gasp in surprise. Morpheus settled his hips between Hob’s thighs, pushing forward with his kisses until their bodies were pressed together.

Hob’s world spun and nothing else existed but Morpheus’ lips and tongue and touch. They explored each other’s mouths with an increasing fervor, Morpheus running his hands along Hob’s back and trailing electricity with his fingers.

Hob could taste the cosmos on Morpheus’ lips, stars turning into supernovas each time their tongues collide. He desperately clutched at Morpheus’ hair and knew that he didn’t want to be anywhere else—

“Professor Gadling?” A knock sounded at the door. “Are you there?”

They pulled apart, gasping and holding each other.

Morpheus’ hair was a mess, his cheeks were flushed and his lips red and glistening. His eyes had turned back to their human appearance but were no less piercing as he waited for what Hob would do.

Hob swallowed and tore his eyes away from such a tempting sight. He looked at the door instead and made considerable efforts to make his voice sound normal. “Yes?”

“I have the invitation for the book fair. Can I come in?” It was Paula’s voice, one of his colleagues.

Morpheus stepped back and gently tugged Hob to stand on the floor again. With a wave of his hand, they both looked decent and not like they had just spent the last few minutes devouring each other.

“Yeah, come in.” Hob might look normal again but he was still lightheaded, and he sincerely hoped that Paula wouldn’t ask him any questions about his lesson plans or anything that required working brain cells.

The door opened, and Paula came in to see Hob and Morpheus standing a few feet apart from each other. “Oh! Sorry, Professor, I didn’t realize you had company.”

“No, it’s okay.” They could continue whatever they were doing later at his flat, anyway. The thought of that sent a pool of desire low in Hob’s belly that he did his best to squash down lest it manifest itself physically in his trousers. “This is Morpheus. My… um…” Damn, they hadn't talked about that yet.

“Good afternoon,” Morpheus smiled politely. “Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

Paula seemed surprised at Morpheus’ voice, and Hob couldn’t blame her. She smiled back. “Good afternoon. I won’t be long, just here to give Robert the invitation for the book fair tomorrow.” She handed Hob a white envelope with the university’s logo. “Remember, wear smart casual,” she said with a playfully stern tone, an inside joke that the professors have developed when imitating their dean.

“Yeah, yeah,” Hob waved her off with an equally playful tone. “Oh, we all get plus ones, right?” he suddenly remembered.

“We do,” Paula nodded, smiling and glancing at Morpheus like she already knew what Hob was planning. “Well, I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said to both of them before getting out and closing the door behind her.

There was a moment of silence between them, but it didn’t feel uncomfortable. Morpheus was looking at Hob with an amused smile pulling at the corner of his lips.

“What?” Hob demanded, though he felt like smiling himself.

“Your colleague was wise to knock. Next time we shall lock the door.” He stepped closer to Hob with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Don’t do that to me here,” Hob chided, though it didn’t sound convincing even to himself.

“Do what?” Morpheus feigned an innocent tone.

“Talk like you’re temptation on two legs.” Hob pulled him in for a chaste kiss, then pulled away to show him the envelope. “Do you wanna go to the book fair with me tomorrow? I mean, if you don’t have any plans…” he trailed off, still not used to being able to ask to see Morpheus so casually.

“I shall be there. Besides, your colleague is already expecting both of us to attend. I wouldn’t want to disappoint her,” he said playfully.

Hob rolled his eyes. Then he remembered something. “Oh! Sorry I told her your name, I hope that’s alright? I just didn’t know what to say.”

“It is perfectly fine.” Morpheus reassured him. “Especially if it precedes you calling me yours.”

Christ, he did say that, didn’t he? And Morpheus didn’t mind at all. He even liked it. Hob smiled giddily. “How would you like me to introduce you to my friends at the book fair? You know, just in case they ask. I don’t wanna fumble around again like I did earlier.”

Morpheus hummed thoughtfully. “Would ‘lover’ suffice?”

Hob felt his face warm. He was about to explain that it might be too… suggestive a term to say to work colleagues, but he caught the amusement in Morpheus’ eyes. “You enjoy teasing me, don’t you?”

“Very much so.”

Hob shook his head in defeat, a smile forming on his face. Then he caught sight of the wall clock and remembered why they came here in the first place.

“Ah, right, I have a class to go to. Thanks for walking with me here.”

“It was a delightful experience. As it always is with you.”

“Alright, you better leave before I start having daydreams again,” Hob said pointedly.

Morpheus laughed, a soft one that brightened his face and shook his shoulders just the slightest bit. Hob decided he would do everything he could to hear that sound again.

“Tomorrow, then?”

Hob smiled. “Tomorrow.”

— —

Author's Note:

Chapter 3 will be posted sometime in January! I hope you liked this one ^_^

Edit: Artworks! <3

Art by @patchyegg87 depicting them playing the game at the arcade~

Art by @emihotaru depicting their kiss~

<- Chapter 1

Chapter 3 ->

(Masterlist)

[prolifeproliberty]

Do you think it's even possible to argue with people who think morality is subjective?

I've noticed a lot of pro-choicers don't believe in objective morality, so all it takes for them to justify why these humans aren't or shouldn't be treated as people is to say "because I don't want to".

Time and time again, I see them say that just because some "thing" is human, it doesn't mean they ought to be treated as a person. And when they rarely consider them people, who's to say people shouldn't be killed if you don't want them?

And while I'd say they're people because all humans are made in the image of God, and that people must be treated a certain way because of God's commands. All they have to do to dismiss that is say "well, I don't share your morals so that doesn't apply to me"

It feels impossible for me, as someone who believes in objectivity and absolutes, to argue with people who just believe whatever they want.

It's like trying to argue with someone while they plug their ears and shout "LALALALA I CAN'T HEAR YOU!"

Is it possible? Yes.

Is it productive? Sometimes.

It’s almost never productive over text/social media. Your best bet is in-person, face to face conversation.

I spent a semester traveling with a pro-life group talking to people on college campuses, and almost all were “morality is relative” kind of people.

Most often, these conversations are more beneficial for bystanders who are listening in. Also, you might be planting a seed - maybe this is the first time the person you’re talking to has been seriously challenged on their beliefs, and maybe the first time they’ve had to actually think about what they believe.

My question to them (once it’s been established that they think morality is relative) is always “is there anything you believe is absolutely/always wrong?”

If they can’t answer, I’ll suggest things such as rape or slavery. Yes, I have genuinely spoken to college students who refuse to say either of those were wrong.

One approach is that if the person refuses to categorically condemn rape or another serious offense, I would take a step back and tell them that “I don’t feel comfortable continuing this conversation” because they don’t believe [offense] is always wrong.

One time I did this, the guy left and then came back an hour later to apologize and that he didn’t mean what he said.

If they do agree that some things are absolutely wrong, then we can go one of two directions.

I can ask whether they think killing an innocent human child is absolutely wrong (and from there go back to “what is the preborn”)

Or I can talk to them about how they determine what is absolutely wrong and what isn’t, and dig into their source of authority (aka their religion)

[denimbex1986]

'David Tennant had it all. As the tenth Doctor he was a fan-favourite with a run of episodes that reached more than 13 million viewers in the UK – a record for the modern revival of Doctor Who, which almost rivalled its 1970s heyday. He left on his own terms in 2010 rather than being shoved aside for a younger, cooler star (in fact, the BBC wanted him to stay longer). His legacy set him up for lucrative convention appearances and fan worship for life, while his post-Who career is flourishing. So why risk it all by returning?

“I hadn’t thought about it like that,” Tennant laughs. “Thank God I made it to this point! It never really occurred to me to worry about that. Perhaps it should have done…but with Catherine [Tate] being part of it, and with Russell [T Davies] writing the scripts, I never actually worried about anything other than my own ability to run as fast as I used to.”

In fairness, while the return of old favourites to a stage they’ve vacated can sometimes tarnish a legacy, Tennant’s Doctor is a special case. Apart from Tom Baker, it’s hard to think of a Doctor Who star who so captured the public’s imagination. At the height of his career on the show, Tennant was plastered on magazine covers and lunchboxes; he was accosted in the street. In 2009, he was the BBC’s Christmas ident. By the time he left, aged 39, one suspects he could have been reading the phone book to a Dalek and viewers would still have tuned in.

Happily this comeback, announced to great fanfare last year, is a little more involved than that. “The first conversation we had about it was very casual,” Tennant recalls. “Russell and Catherine were talking about the notion of: ‘What if we got the band back together for one last special? But David would never do it.’ And I said, ‘What do you mean I’d never do it? I’d do it in a shot. And then suddenly, we were back for three in a row.

“I mean, why not?” he laughs. “It was such a joyous time, and these are people I love as humans, and certainly love as people to work with. And Doctor Who is something that will always be hugely important to me.”

In fact, there’s a case to be made that the 52-year-old Tennant – who’s speaking to us the day after his birthday, ever committed to the show – never really left Doctor Who behind in the first place. Yes, he’s had many successes since – Broadchurch, Good Omens, Des, Marvel’s Jessica Jones and Staged to name but a few – but he’s always kept a foot in the TARDIS door. After all, it was just three years after his dramatic regeneration that he teamed up with his successor Matt Smith for 2013’s 50th-anniversary special.

“I was sort of a member of the guest cast on that, because it was Matt’s show,” says Tennant now. “It’s different when you’re in charge of the TARDIS again. There’s a lot more work to do. I remember on the 50th, going, ‘Oh, this is easy. I used to have to learn far more lines than this!’”

Two years after that, Tennant was back headlining his own Doctor Who stories for a series of audio dramas co-starring – and this sounds familiar – ex-companion Catherine Tate. He’s kept playing the Doctor that way ever since, lending his voice to audio plays and (more recently) video games starring his character.

The Doctor even looms large in Tennant’s personal life. He married a guest actor on the series – Georgia Moffett, who appeared in a 2008 episode with him – which means his father-in-law is former fifth Doctor Peter Davison. He also has a police box cut-out in his garden. Given all this, it’s hard to imagine why Davies and Tate thought this on-screen return would be a hard sell.

“The truth is, it’s a rather lovely, benevolent, generous thing to be connected with. I love it. I always have, and I’m sure I always will,” says Tennant. “I grew up with posters on my wall signed by Tom Baker. It’s very peculiar that I should end up in the show that was, to a greater or lesser extent, the thing that inspired me to be in the profession I’m in.

“It runs through my life as if through a stick of rock, really. As you say, I met my wife on the set of Doctor Who, and I’m now a father. I’ve given up trying to resist the inevitability that Doctor Who will be following me around for the rest of time.”

Instead, he’s embraced it. So, this week he returns as the Doctor on BBC1 – but not the same one he played before. Originally, Tennant says the plan was for him and Tate to return for the anniversary in a flashback episode, set during their shared 2008 series and with a storyline completely different from the specials as they now exist.

“It would have been an unseen adventure from years before,” he says. “Russell immediately had an idea for a story, which I’m not going to mention because I don’t think it’s yet seen the light of day. It certainly wouldn’t have been part of an ongoing story. But I hope one day he does use it because it sounded great.”

But Davies’s return to the BBC fold as the new Who showrunner changed everything. “Then Russell decided he was coming back full-time and the whole thing blossomed,” says Tennant. Suddenly, the one-off had turned into a trio of specials for Doctor Who’s 60th anniversary.

Davies tells me later: “It was simply as many episodes as David and Catherine could do. If they had said, ‘We’ve got time to make 12,’ we would have made 12. If they had said, ‘We’ve got time to make one,’ then we’d have made one. But I think a one-off would have been a disappointment.”

And it was a flashback no longer. Instead, Tennant plays a new (and official) incarnation of the Doctor that follows on from his younger self and the Doctors that came after – Matt Smith, Peter Capaldi and Jodie Whittaker – in a way that’s woven into the story of the specials (titled The Star Beast, Wild Blue Yonder and The Giggle).

“That’s part of what the Doctor himself is struggling with: why is he here?” says Tennant. “Why has he got this face back, and what might that mean? Though you’re still in a recognisably Doctor Who world, and I think that’s right and proper,” he adds. “It gets you back into those stories that you know and love and recognise, with some elements in there that are unexpected.”

In particular, he says that the second and third specials go in unusual directions. “With two and three, Russell has written Doctor Who like I have never seen it before,” he reveals. “He’s come back to it with a whole new raft of ideas and enthusiasm. I’m just very chuffed to be able to be part of that.”

But of course, he’s not going to be part of it for long. Davies describes Tennant’s new incarnation as a “Magnesium Doctor” – in other words, he burns brightly but not for long – because at the end of the third special, airing on 9 December, he’ll regenerate into new Doctor Ncuti Gatwa. The 31-year-old Sex Education star takes over for the Christmas special, followed by a full series next year (and beyond – he’s already filming episodes that will be shown in 2025).

“I have seen a bit of Ncuti, and he’s magnificent,” Tennant says. “He’s just got such an energy. He’s so creative, and he’s inventive, and he’s funny, and he’s a proper actor. I think he’s going to be great.

“I’ve met Millie Gibson [new companion Ruby], and she seems lovely, too. I haven’t got a chance to see any of her stuff yet, but they seem great together. I’m jealous of the adventure they’ve got in front of them.”

When asked if he has any advice for his successor, Tennant seems vaguely horrified – “What would I say? I mean, literally, what would I say?” I suggest he might prepare Gatwa to return in about 18 years. “Well, he’s young,” Tennant laughs. “He’ll get into the 100th anniversary, probably. I don’t know if I’ll make it that far. Though if I can keep running fast enough –

I don’t know. I never imagined that I would be sitting there for the 60th anniversary, talking about three specials we’d made. This show continues to surprise everyone involved with it.”

Still, it must be hard to hand over the TARDIS so soon after getting hold of it again. Was there a moment, just for a second, where he thought about snatching back the sonic screwdriver, barricading the studio and staying on for a full series?

Even as a lifelong fan, he says not. “It was never on the table,” Tennant says firmly. “The story – well, as soon as I start to talk about this, we get into the area of spoilers, so I’m not going to say any more. All I know is that I’m excited and jealous of everything that Ncuti has in front of him. And I can’t wait to enjoy it as a viewer, because I think he’s magnificent.”

He laughs. “I think they thought, ‘Let the old man run around for a minute – and then we’ll get a nice, young bloke in.’ ”'

[twc-thoughts-you-didnt-ask-for]

Hello! How do you see the ROs dealing with a turned detective who lowkey regrets it? When it finally dawns on them that they can't do normal stuff they never thought they'd miss, such as going to the cinema or a concert.

This is actually such a fun ask that I’ve never thought about before…

I think obviously A and N would be the ones with the most regret and guilt seeing this. In their own ways, neither of them want this life for the detective. F and M it’s harder to say because, realistically, this is all they’ve ever known so there’s no mortality for them relate to missing and family/friends is wherever UB is for them.

I don’t know how much A can differentiate the detective regretting their change versus regretting their relationship, if that makes sense. And sometimes I don’t think A has the easiest time differentiating that even in themselves. A views vampires as a monster in someway and thinking that makes them think that’s what they are too. I feel like maybe A wouldn’t help the detective feel much better about it because A would feel a certain type of way… I think it would be very “I told you so”. N balances out A so well that I definitely think they would need N’s council on the subject.

N is the one most vocal and pro-detective staying human as far as we know. There might be some subtle “I told you so” but certainly not blatant or malicious. I think N will beat themselves up over it and place the blame on themselves 100%. It might be hard to pick up that they’re sympathetic with all the guilt they’ll feel. The conversation would be very “I didn’t want this for you” or a lot of “If only I had tried harder”. N is also a fixer so I imagine that also makes it worse because there’s nothing they can do to reverse the clock. Even when or if the detective learns to cope, I imagine this will eat at N for the remainder of forever.

F would be as sympathetic as possible and I think they would probably the best at comforting the detective knowing all too well what it’s like to leave people behind. Maybe not in the mortality front but leaving people behind all the same. F’s never not had the hypersenses so they may struggle with trying to make things better but would still try to help with solutions or at least distractions.

M is a toughie because part of me feels like they wouldn’t understand what the big deal would be about leaving people behind because for them it’s like what more could they need or want aside from UB and I’m not sure it would occur to them that it’s not that way for the detective. At least not without somebody putting it into perspective to help them understand. I think that these would be the moments in which M shows their softer side to at least be a shoulder to cry on if they can’t think of the words to say. Now one thing I’m not sure on is would M ease the hypersenses the way the detective does for them and if yes I imagine M will whine about it but will do whatever the detective wants in order for them to enjoy their eternity. If M isn’t a salve for the hypersenses like the detective is for them I think that would make M pretty emotional at least privately. I think in that scenario M would feel immense guilt and like they cursed the detective.

[weirdestbooks]

The Faceless People You Have Yet to Meet (Wattpad | Ao3)

TW for ableist language and a character thinking a DID system is insane. For the wonderful @aloha-from-angel

It had been hard talking to America since her annexation. It was tense and awkward, and America’s moods only made it worse. Sometimes, he was unapologetic about taking her freedom, insisting that it was necessary, while other times, he was apologetic, acting like it wasn’t his fault like he was some observer who had nothing to do with anything!

It made Hawaiʻi nervous. She never knew what mood he would be in, and trying to guess his mood now was so much more nerve-wracking as a colony than as a kingdom.

It reminded her a little of living with Britain all those years ago when she was never quite sure if something she said was going to set off his temper.

Hawaiʻi hated it.

Thankfully, America seemed to be in a good mood today, and while Hawaiʻi didn't want to be talking to him, their conversation had yet to dissolve into screaming or an argument.

“So…how have you been, Wai?” America asked, his tone holding a note of hesitation and awkwardness, made all the more worse by the fact that he was actually pronouncing the nickname he gave her so long ago correctly. A strange mix of hurt and grief burned in Hawaiʻi’s chest before she pushed it away, swallowing back the tears that threatened to emerge as she tried to figure out how she would answer that question.

Hawaiʻi was thankfully saved from answering by a state walking through the door. While Hawaiʻi had a very hard time telling states apart from each other, this one she did recognize as being Georgia.

“Hello D—Caleb, is that you?” Georgia asked. America nodded, and Hawaiʻi took a nervous step back.

“Am I allowed to hear his new human name?” she asked, not wanting to do anything to make her time in this household more miserable. She didn’t want to give the states more reasons to hate her or harass her about feigned crimes against their father. 

Although it was strange that Georgia called her father by his human name, Hawaiʻi wondered if they had perhaps fought recently.

“Oh, Meri, I thought you and James were taking care of telling all the new people,” America said, sounding very annoyed. Who were Meri and James? Tell them what?

Georgia snorted, “You’re just unlucky. I think they meant to, but they’ve probably just been looking for a good time.”

“What are you talking about?” Hawaiʻi asked, feeling hopelessly confused. America grinned something that looked so out of place on his face that it took Hawaiʻi aback.

“You know those ‘moods’ of mine that you’ve noticed? How it can sometimes seem like I’m different people? I walk differently, talk differently, have different tastes, etcetera, etcetera.”

“Yes?”

“That’s because we are! All those moods, they aren’t moods. That’s what it looks like when different people share the same body, but all have to pretend to be America in public because otherwise, we’ll get thrown into an asylum. My name is Caleb. I’m not Meri, America; Caleb is not America’s human name. I’m my own person in every way, aside from the body. I’m not America; I’m Caleb.” America’s eyes glistened as if he was holding back tears, with a worried look on his face.

Hawaiʻi stood there in shock, unsure of what to say or how to react. It made sense, of course, it did. Hawaiʻi had commented before on how America’s moods made him seem like different people, but could that really be the case? What if America was just mad?

It didn’t matter if it made sense. Nobody had multiple people in their head. 

America had actually gone mad.

“Many of the territories used to exist in Dad’s body. I did before I became an official state, back when I was a colony. I…we don’t know for sure why it’s happened, but we think it’s a weird country thing. But..Caleb—Dad’s not mad. He’s fine, just sharing his body.” Georgia added.

America had gotten his children wrapped up in his madness? Or was Georgia just pretending to believe in the delusions because she was scared of her father?

“I know you think you know we’re mad. America did at first, and so did Florida, Ana, and all of them. But…they came around. We hope you will, too.” America said. Hawaiʻi nodded.

“Okay…may I leave now?” she asked, careful to keep her voice polite so as not to anger the madman in front of her. 

“Of course you can. Meri won’t say it, but this is your home now, too. You can come and go as you please.” America said, a soft smile on his face but worry in his eyes.

He didn’t look mad. He looked normal.

That was more terrifying than anything. Why couldn’t he look mad? Why couldn’t he just look like the terrible person he was? Why did he have to be so painfully normal?

Hawaiʻi nodded and stepped away, walking to her room as she tried to process everything. 

America was mad. That much was clear. He was convinced that he had multiple people in his head who could speak to him and control his body. Or he was convinced he was multiple people. Either way, it was scary. Hawaiʻi briefly considered the idea that America could be possessed by some sort of demon but quickly put aside that thought. 

Countryhumans were supposed to be holy. So America couldn’t be possessed.

He was just mad. 

Hawaiʻi had said before that living with Britain could be enough to drive a man mad, but she wasn’t truly serious when she said that. But was Britain the one to drive America mad, or was he mad from the beginning? 

Hawaiʻi didn't know how to feel.

How could she not have seen this before? So what if this explanation made sense? So what if she had commented before that sometimes America’s moods—America’s madness—made him act like different people? 

You couldn’t just have multiple people in the same body, even if it was just a country thing. 

That’s not how it worked. That’s not how any of it worked.

America had to be mad. 

It was the only thing that made sense.

Right?

[actress4him]

Querencia 15 - Park Day

The enthusiastic response I got on the last piece I posted helped motivate me to keep going! This is the actual chronologically next chapter, coming in a month or two after Mind Control. Enjoy!

Taglist: @darthsutrich , @inky-whump , @painful-pooch , @pigeonwhumps , @bookworm2107

Previous | Next | Masterlist

Contains: referenced mind control, referenced parental abandonment, fear of abandonment, broken bone, a couple more warnings in the tags to avoid spoilers here

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Things have been fairly normal since the whole “supervillain getting in Jamil’s head and making him attack everyone” incident. Dagger is still a near-weekly problem, along with Meltdown and whoever else he happens to be hanging out with at the moment. Other villains come and go, too, some low-level Supers like Reaper and Gibbous, along with non-Super nuisances that the team does their best to curb, too - bank robbers and muggers and kidnappers and such.

No one has heard anything from or about Luna. Then again, no one had heard of her before the incident, either. Which means she’s probably still out there, and could very well be biding her time until she can strike again. None of them ever really talk about her, but Liliana can feel anxiety hanging in the air that wasn’t there before, especially on poor Jamil’s part.

Luna knows exactly where they live, what they look like without their masks on. Probably knows their names and where they work, thanks to rummaging through Jamil’s brain. So not only could she easily return, but she could also tell others the information she learned. They don’t know who she might be associated with. They managed to pin down Reaper one day and quiz him about her and any other new villains in town, but he was less than helpful on the subject.

Even if they could track her down and catch her, Liliana has learned from snippets of conversation that they really have nothing to do with her. It’s something she’s never thought of before, but one reason that there are still so many supervillains around is that there’s no way to arrest them. The government likely could detain them, but no one trusts that it would be humane or that the heroes wouldn’t also be captured in the process of trying to hand them over. Just the thought of the government locking them up makes Liliana sick to her stomach, villains or not.

Normal jails can’t handle them. Normal courtrooms can’t, either, in order to convict them to send them to jail. And no hero wants to be in charge of locking them away themselves, even if they did have the space and technology.

So all they can do for now is damage control, really. Try to stop their crimes as often as they can, try to disrupt whatever plans they have. She doesn’t envy the team their jobs. Between supervillains, regular criminals, and their day jobs, they’re constantly busy.

Every other Saturday, though, after everyone who’s working gets home, they make it a point to go do something together. Since Liliana’s been with them they’ve seen a couple of movies, gone to an arcade, had a picnic, gone to the mall, and eaten out at restaurants a few times. Every experience is a huge deal for her, though she tries to make light of the awe she feels. It’s just been so long since she’s done such normal, fun things. Sometimes she feels like she’s watching someone else’s life.

Today, they’re at the city park. No one can remember whose idea it was to start with, but “the children” - as Quinn likes to fondly dub Nari, Alex, and Jamil - went crazy over the thought of playing on the playground, so here they are. It’s late enough that all of the actual children have gone home. Jamil is trying out every slide, while Quinn judges Nari and Alex in a series of competitions on the monkey bars. Liliana watches everyone from the side, a small smile on her face, but every once in a while she glances over at the empty swings.

Swinging used to be her favorite. Especially on park or school swings like these, with the long chains that could take you so high you felt like you were flying. She and Mila used to see who could go the highest, and try to swing themselves right over the top bar.

It feels silly and childish now. She can’t swing herself right now, anyway. She healed another broken rib - on Nari this time - earlier this week, just a couple of weeks after the pain from Alex’s had finally faded. So there’s no way that she can pump the chains on a swing.

Still…she could just sit in one. That won’t hurt anything. Glancing over at the chin-up contest again, she makes her way over and settles into the plastic seat, gloved hands gripping the chains loosely. Her toes just barely reach the ground, giving her enough leverage that she can give herself a little push. The swing rocks gently. Liliana watches her sneakers as they brush across the dirt, back and forth. She pushes again and swings a little more. Such a simple motion, but it brings so many childhood memories flooding into her mind.

“May I give you a push?”

The sudden question makes her jump and look back over her shoulder, though she recognizes the voice. Jamil is standing behind her with a smile on his face, cheeks flushed from his adventures down the slides.

“Oh, um…y-you don’t have to, I’m…I’m fine.”

“I know I don’t have to, but I’d like to, if you’d like to swing. If not, I’ll leave you be!”

Now her mind is at war. She automatically wants to say no, not wanting to inconvenience him or make him do things for her.

She also really, really wants to swing.

Somehow, without her actually deciding what to say, “Sure?” slips out.

“Alright, hang on!”

Suddenly, she’s flying through the air, and it’s exactly how she remembers it. Colors rush by as the wind blows her curls back off her shoulders, then tangles them around her cheeks again. She grabs onto the chains tighter. Her legs automatically fall into a pumping motion, toes pointing out at the horizon, her eyes bright with exhilaration.

Yes, it pulls at her rib a bit. But she finds she doesn’t really care.

She’s been swinging for a few minutes, oblivious to anything else around her, when another voice breaks in. “Hold on tight, I’m coming through!” A set of hands grab the swing by her hips and shove forward, higher and faster until she’s sure she actually is going to go over the top bar, or more likely, fall out the back of the swing. She squeals in shock, though this sensation is familiar, too. Then she’s dropped abruptly, her stomach following the motion, the swing’s momentum twisting it back and forth as it reaches the bottom again.

Alex is turned around watching her, laughing. He’d come up from behind and grabbed the swing, running all the way underneath it.

Her brother used to do the very same thing, back when she was small enough he could lift her.

“Did I scare you?”

“A, a little.” She’s smiling, though. She can’t help it, even with the pain in her side and the melancholy of missing what used to be.

These people…they treat her like a family should. Better than her family ever did, though she feels like a traitor for thinking it.

She shouldn’t fall for it. If her real family taught her anything, it’s that what seems like love and care won’t last and can’t be trusted. If her own flesh and blood eventually turned on her, then she can’t expect people who were strangers a few months ago to be any different.

But right now, she’s shoving those thoughts deep, deep down. She can worry about all of that later. Right now, for once, she’s going to let herself enjoy the moment.

Nari is shoving and punching Alex and playfully fussing at him for scaring Liliana, and Jamil has jumped up on the swing next to her, standing on one foot and pumping with his arms. She doesn’t move from her spot, just keeps smiling and watching their antics. They’re so full of life and joy, even with the stress they constantly face.

Before long Quinn takes up Jamil’s position without a word, and she’s swinging again. Alex and Jamil balance on the seesaw, attempting circus tricks, screaming like girls when Nari uses her power to make the metal move beneath them, which sends her into fits of laughter.

It’s late when they finally pile into Quinn’s car to head back to HQ. Everyone is tired in a contented way. Alex leans the passenger seat back practically into Nari’s lap, claiming he’s going to take a nap, while she kicks his headrest repeatedly and threatens him. Quinn clears his throat loudly, though, and quiet falls to let him focus and not overwhelm him with sound in the small space.

Liliana leans her head back and watches the moon out the sunroof. Her hands are tucked between her knees to keep her arms from brushing up against Jamil and Nari, who each lean into their respective doors to give her more space. It’s…peaceful. She’s pretty sure she hears someone snoring. She could fall asleep, too, honestly, which is surprising for her since she doesn’t usually feel comfortable sleeping unless she’s alone.

The motion of the car does lull her into a near-dozing state. Her eyes are closed and she’s absentmindedly trying to picture which turn they’re taking when someone gasps and the car suddenly jerks to one side. Liliana’s eyes fly open and she sits up abruptly. There’s a bump and a loud popping and hissing sound, then the car is swerving uncontrollably, headlights sweeping back and forth across the empty road.

The seconds seem to pass in slow motion. Her hands are gripping the seats in front of her, eyes fixated out the front windshield. A cacophony of screams and shouted words fill the car as the steeply sloped side of the road looms in front of them, cutting off abruptly as they tip over the side and begin to fall.

Gravity inverts, and for a moment she’s weightless before being slammed back down. Her temple smashes into something hard and unyielding. Images are swimming through the darkness around her - a cracked window, slumped figures. A beam of light making her wince and turn away.

Someone groans. The car shakes as a door is forced open.

“This one’s still awake.”

“Here, use the syringe.”

There’s movement around her, the click of seatbelts unbuckling too loud in her ears.

“Wait, why are there five?”

“What?”

“This one, who is she? She’s not one of the usuals, is she?”

“Doesn’t matter, just grab her.”

Something is very, very wrong, but she can’t make her body work to do anything about it. The darkness outside is creeping closer inward. She feels her seatbelt loosen and a pair of hands latch onto her, but the darkness closes in completely before she can protest.

[vintage-bentley]

I've been a fan of GO since I was 12 (I'm now 28) and read the book so many times it fell apart as a teen - but for some reason, I never connected with the TV version. Just never vibed with it, can't explain why. Maybe because it was Terry Pratchett I always loved and his magic felt like it was missing from it, leaving mostly NG's influence (who I don't like but that's a long story). So I feel no excitement for series 2, and that kind of bums me out because 12 year old me loved it so much.

Are there many reasons to be excited for s2? Are you?

I’m unfortunately one of the people who saw the TV series first, then read the book, so I didn’t experience the sort of hesitance about the series somebody who came from the book might. I personally love the series, and also love the book! But I can see why you weren’t the biggest fan of the series. It definitely feels like it lost a bit of Terry’s touch. I’ve said before that this worries me for season 2, because at least with season 1 Neil was working with a complete book he’d written with Terry. Now he’s on his own. I mean, it sounds like they’ve had conversations about what a second book or season would entail…but that’s very different from actually writing it together.

Personally, I feel a whole lot of things about season 2. I feel excited, because I love the story and characters and want more. But I’m also very nervous, because it could easily go wrong. Sometimes things are best left alone…and season 1 ended on such a lovely note and had so much closure, that I’m not sure how a season 2 would fit into it. I do worry that this will be one of those cases of the sequel not being as good as the original, just because the original was so good.

And of course, I’m worried that the fandom’s homophobia that Neil has eagerly endorsed will seep its way into the show. But I’m hoping it won’t, because as much as I don’t like Neil, he seems to know how to draw a line between canon and headcanons. What it looks like to me, is he’s had his ideas set in stone for years, and is just agreeing with fandom to get clout. But his ideas are still his ideas and he won’t let them get changed by the fandom…both for creative reasons and legal reasons. So I hardly think he’ll be like “you know what, I didn’t even know what ‘asexual demiromantic genderfluid nonbinary’ meant until yesterday, but I’m going to have my characters come out as it in season 2! It’ll be great!”.

The fandom has been an issue for me for a while. They’re comically sexist and homophobic, and being a lesbian that means it’s just not the place for me. So I stay away from larger fandom as much as possible, because I have no interest in seeing “progressive” takes about why actually it’s bad for the two male characters to be in love, and why actually Crowley’s a woman if he has long hair.

But I wouldn’t let the fandom ruin your enjoyment of the show. Ultimately, it’s just the fandom. There’s so many things that are great but have insufferable fandoms…and it’s not a reflection on the work, but rather just a reflection of the people who are the loudest fans (which are always going to be young people since that’s who fandom is mainly populated by, and young people right now are caught up in gender ideology). Watching the show, then seeing what these fans think of it, really just shows you that they’re hardly fans of the show, and are more accurately fans of the story they’ve created in their heads that’s loosely inspired by the show. So try to disconnect the fandom from the show, because they’re entirely different.

The fact is, fandom’s always been insanely homophobic because it’s populated by straight women who fetishise gay men. It’s just now they’ve found a new way to be homophobic (gender ideology) and they’ve found a way to play with it (a show with non-human characters and a magic system). The fandom doesn’t say as much about GO as it does about fans eagerly waiting for the first opportunity to be homophobic.

I’d encourage you to hang around the gender critical corner of the fandom. It makes the experience so much more enjoyable when you know you’re safe from homophobia and sexism and general clownery.

I’m very excited to be able to watch the new season and be able to talk about it with people who I know won’t shun me for calling Crowley a “he” in a scene where he has long hair, and who I can trust to not be homophobic and not shut down my concerns about baiting because “it’s still queer!!! Shut up cis gay!!! Not everything’s about you!!!”.

In short, yes, I’m excited about season 2. More accurately, I’m cautiously optimistic. Because I know that whatever happens, it’s still more of something I love dearly, and that I’ll have people to gush about it to who I don’t have to be wary around.

[sli-writes]

Essay: Is depression a natural by-product of being an artist

Self-Portrait with Bandaged Ear,  Vincent van Gogh. 1889

We’ve all heard about the “tortured artist,” thinking, oof, I don’t want to end up there. Yet, you soon realise what they’ve created could’ve been a result of being in such a state of awareness; relentless persistence of observation, expression and individual psych. It has to do with the art of being; never getting away from it or allowing for mundane not-really-important interruptions to win, all in the spirit of getting to new and worthwhile (remember this word) ideas - all the while in solitude - that’s one of the requirements (at least to my experience).Tortured carries a negative connotation, in the world of an artist however, I believe it has to do with never truly shutting off; having a constant existing not only of the world around you but inside of you.

Flesh and Spirit,  Jean-Michel Basquiat.  c. 1982–83

Research suggests that bipolar disorder results in creativity. Often, not always. On the surface level, it explains everything as I can see the parallels by looking at a Basquiat, you think; such sudden bursts of creativity, the kind too that make for a great artist, how? I’m by no means suggesting he had a mental illness, I can’t speak on his state of mind, but what genius. I have but only admiral reverence. The trend does in fact persists in a way that one cannot refute the streams of genius seemly flowing from ill mental health issues.    

Conversely, it is believed the practice of art helps with stress, decreased depression and anxiety but honestly, the practice never helped me with that because the cycle of bringing ideas to life goes a little like this. In the being, there’s no “chasing of the clock,” tasks performed ordinarily or by rote; there are however times for keeping your head down and grinding it out, honestly, there is no formula I can suggest that makes for a concise proof. It’s getting the ideas out through sheer force. You sometimes don’t even know if idea is worthwhile, even after you’ve made it all the way to the end of it, baiting, trying to catch it, trembling and your lips quivering..the performances of a matador (violent disorder) at times, and on other occasions, the patience of a fisherman, something not short of the labour of love. See because sometimes the end result is just that, the end. In the book I’m currently reading, ‘Modernists and Mavericks’ by Martin Gayford, there’s a quote by Bridget Riley which I believe is an important guide to what we (artists) should be doing to alleviate anxiety, at least to some extent and it goes like this, “People feel that it is very important for artists to have an aim. Actually, what’s vital is to have a beginning. You find your aim in the process of working, You discover it,”  (Gayford, 2019, p43).    

Painting 1946,  Francis Bacon. 1946

I have ideas that I want to speak on through my work, tough ones; dreading to have the conversations with humanity myself. The art plays this role - never with vivid explanations - I value that, because the over-explanations take away from its mystique, bores the work; the work is however always honest, revealing and necessary (cannot do without it). The audience can be witness to every vehement moment I’ve encountered with the work, if only they were to look. Being a self-taught outsider, the self-doubt is incredibly paralysing; something I’m fighting constantly with marginal success I’ll say. I never like the idea of drawing or painting like other artists, it’s great as an exercise and all, but not when your emotional interests are concerned with their personal expression.

I guess I’ve realised that being in art is inevitable and worthwhile suffering, even necessary as it is an act that brings one closer to the act of God himself. “Pain and suffering are always inevitable for a large intelligence and a deep heart. The really great men must, I think, have great sadness on earth.” (F,Dostoevsky, Crime and Punishment).

Bibliography

Dostoyevsky, F. and Garnett, C. (2018) Crime and punishment. San Diego, California: Canterbury Classics.

Gayford, M. (2019) ‘Euston Road in Camberwell’, in Modernists and Mavericks: Bacon, freud, Hockney and the London painters. London, UK: Thames & Hudson, pp. 43–43.

Watson, S. (2023) Does bipolar disorder make you more creative? what research says, Healthline. Available at: https://www.healthline.com/health/bipolar-disorder/famous-creative-people (Accessed: 01 March 2023).

[mademoiselle-red]

TC chapter 6 reread thoughts, part 2

A rush of old memories went through Laurie like a pain. “I’ve never noticed […] that the competition to take things on was as killing as all that.” I love how Laurie takes Ralph’s side and tells him he’s done nothing wrong. One of my favorite aspects of their relationship is their camaraderie, the feeling that Laurie is playing on Ralph’s team. That’s also what makes the horrible crap he says to Ralph in chapter 16 so terrible: for the entire book, Laurie has been Ralph’s cheerleader, cheering him on when he’s feeling down or when other characters put him down, but then Laurie suddenly joined the others in denigrating his character from a position of superiority 😢

“He was staring at Ralph, who was standing in the thick of the crowd, hard and crisp and gay, laughing at someone’s dirty story, his battle-scars put neatly out of sight. I wonder what the punishment is for heresy, Laurie thought.” Here, his idealized image of Ralph as some otherworldly higher being who is above crude human desires is challenged, and he finds himself so compellingly drawn to Ralph that he can’t simply ignore it and retreat into his fantasy version of Ralph. But again, his revulsion at Ralph laughing at someone’s dirty joke is really the pot calling the kettle: “Gareth. That’s what my stepfather-elect’s called. I suppose he was conceived with Tennyson in limp suede sitting on the po-cup-board.” Reg coughed repressively. […] He sometimes found Laurie’s conversation highly obscene, and would have voiced his disapproval to anyone he had liked less.” Ralph would have laughed at Laurie’s obscene joke and Laurie would have been pleased 🤷‍♀️

My favorite Laurie lines from this chapter: “If you mean Ralph Lanyon […], he’s a friend of mine, I’ve known him for years.” And, “It’s the Odyessey all right. It’s the one where the man comes back from war and finds the flash boys on his pitch and runs them out.” Again, despite many reviews pointing out Ralph’s attempts to insert himself into Laurie’s life, we see here that it was Laurie who made the first move, showing up to the party acting like he is Ralph’s boyfriend in front of all his friends. Like, consider this party from Ralph’s point of view: guy you haven’t seen in seven years and kissed one (1) time crashes your ex-boyfriend’s party to see you and “only you”, follows you around with his eyes like a love-sick puppy, starts telling everyone that he has known you for years (Ralph: um, we had like one (1) conversation, but sure), and declares to your would-be suitors that you are the Penelope to his Odysseus (Ralph: I was not aware of being married with just one (1) kiss, but ok). Just who is being presumptuous and “proprietary to the point of arrogance” here? No wonder people at the party were like, who the fuck is this guy and what the hell happened to Bunny, his actual boyfriend???? Like, Laurie, you can’t just act like a guy’s boyfriend and then be all surprised when he thinks you wanna be his boyfriend 🤣🤣🤣

“[Ralph] went off rather stiffly to the drinks table. Really, he can be awkward, Laurie thought, but he felt no serious discomfort.” Awwwwww Laurie’s thoughts are so tender. And Ralph being awkward in front of Laurie is simply too adorable 🥰

“Now we’ll see something, thought Laurie not without satisfaction.” It’s so interesting to me how Laurie expects Ralph to react to Bim with contempt, but Ralph surprises him by reacting with gentleness and compassion. And this prompts Laurie to see past Bim’s “hard glitter” and see his “feverish and taut” demeanor. Like, Ralph is actually a soft and gentle person underneath that hard layer of self protective roughness.

“Not the Odell?” I love this parallel to chapter 12: not the R R Lanyon? They’ve both been telling their loved ones about each other for years ❤️❤️❤️ (Lucy & Alec: 🤝)

Laurie throws a jealous fit and wants to leave the party because Ralph is driving Bim home. “He’d be up before the major and have his passes stopped for a month; but, he thought bitterly, there wouldn’t be much hardship in that.” We can infer from this line of thinking that Laurie was already expecting to see Ralph regularly and was planning to use his late passes for this purpose. Renault conveys this to the reader in such an indirect way, showing how Laurie is unaware of the desires that drive his thoughts. Consciously, Laurie hasn’t made any kind of “choice” to date Ralph, but unconsciously, he has already committed his future late-pass evenings to Ralph, and this is before Ralph has even asked him out! I think throughout the book, Laurie makes a lot of decisions and choices, especially w.r.t. Ralph, without acknowledging them. And this is one such example. He’s not a passive participant being dragged into a relationship by chance and Ralph’s will.

“What makes me cross about people like Ralph is the way everyone used them. [….] Their life gets like one of those ham spy films where they brief the agent and say, “But remember, one slip and you’re on your own.” This is such an apt description the way Ralph has been abandoned by everyone and every institution his entire life! one slip, and his parents beat him, one slip, and he was thrown out of school and home, one slip, and he lost his naval career, one slip (that wasn’t even his fault), and Laurie seems to have abandoned him too. Until Laurie comes back and becomes the only person to not abandon him when he doesn’t live up to their expectations. Laurie is the only person who loves him enough to allow him to fail ❤️❤️❤️

“Ralph’s tragedy is that he’s retained through everything a curious innocence about it.” It being the idea that “sacrifice uplifts the redeemer and casts down the bought.” I don’t agree with this observation about the nature of sacrifice, but I do think Ralph is unaware of the way his giving nature coupled with his unwillingness to receive help leads to a “trade deficit” in his relationships, which breeds resentment. He showers his loved ones with love, but doesn’t give them the opportunity to dote on him in return.

“You said he’s in a spot. […] Can I do something? […] No, tell me, please, if I can do something. I want to know.. […] I’m not sleepy. When Ralph comes back, if he’s in a fix you’ve got to wake me. No good keep talking about he’s in trouble, and not do anything.. […] I won’t go away. I’ll wait for him here if it takes all night.” All Laurie wants is to be able to do something for Ralph 😭😭😭 like, screw the rules, if Ralph’s needs him to, he’ll stay all night. All Ralph has to do is say he needs him 😭😭😭 (Ralph: I can’t admit I need Spuddy! I need to be strong and brave in front of him! Or he won’t admire me anymore and he’ll leave me 🥺🥺🥺. Me: 🤦‍♀️)

To be continued…

[scarluxia]

Solidarity with actual working-class people (that you personally know)

I probably shouldn’t say this, because two of the people involved have been 95% kind to me in the many years that we’ve known each other, but I’m still fucking salty about the other 5% that happened a few years ago. I was writing about it in my diary to process it and the sudden urge to post it up overcame me.

I don’t remember what year this was, but I want to say 2017. I’m not going to name names here because it is a sensitive personal issue and I actually don’t want to upset someone it’s about. This isn’t intended to throw shade, but some emotions are going to come out. I love them to death and I’d do just about anything for them except keep silent because I’ve been censored and shut down my entire fucking life and I won’t have it. (I’m pretty sure they’ve apologized since this happened? but the emotions associated with it won’t go away. We’re good and they’ve been a stalwart friend since this incident, so this is JUST about my feelings about the situation.)

A little background on Person X. They’re very into social justice activism and have boycotted a few major companies for business practices they don’t agree with that could potentially harm *waves arm* The Masses. That’s part of why what I’m about to describe shocked the hell out of me. They have a spouse whom I’ll call Person Y.

Person Z was, at the time, working a demanding job and going to college. Person A was their boss.

Z has a disorder. They require things to be rephrased for their comprehension sometimes. They’re also very emotionally sensitive and... I don’t know if they second-guess themself a lot but they ask me things like, “Does this [outfit/accessory] look good? Does this [essay] sound okay? Is it insensitive if I associate [this thing] with [this other thing]?” Stuff like that. They want a lot of feedback to make sure they’re doing well. So, at their job, they asked their boss for specifically positive feedback. Well, they received the exact opposite, in front of customers which included X and me. I don’t remember the entire conversation, but at least two of us were crying at the end of it. What I do remember is Z being scolded for doing everything incorrectly and “charging for [their] time.”

So imagine being a college student, working a demanding job in the service industry, PROBABLY being paid minimum wage, and being told, in front of customers, that you’re doing everything wrong and charging for your time. Charging the MINIMUM FUCKING WAGE OF WHAT IS LEGALLY REQUIRED TO PAY AN EMPLOYEE. Now pile a disorder on top of that, that makes it difficult to understand instructions the first time, and a boss who’s too impatient to give proper training because oh you should just be able to see this demonstrated once and then do it perfectly.

Z was furious and hurt, and I was furious on their behalf. I went to trade school to qualify for work and I worked as hard as my various illnesses would allow in order to pay bills and services, and have the occasional fun shopping trip. Z has more focus and drive than I do; they now have a college degree and they worked in an industry that I probably couldn’t. I was so incredibly impressed with them for accomplishing things that I might not be able to, so to see them be torn down like that for doing their literal best, especially when their best is better than my best, was horrifying.

I immediately decided I was never going to patronize that establishment again. My solidarity was 100% with my friend, who now had to find a new job and was probably feeling pretty demoralized about doing so. I expected that X would feel the same way, given that X has boycotted major companies for inhumane practices that hurt...the hypothetical masses. People we’ll never meet. Surely boycotting a business that treats an actual tangible human being we personally know like an errant and incompetent child would be an even easier thing to commit to, right?

Nah, you know where I’m going with this. X had formed an emotional attachment with Person A and just wanted us all to get along. Didn’t want to pick sides, wanted to be accepted and loved by everyone. Understandable, but in light of their activism on the behalf of-- again-- STRANGERS, I just.... 

It felt like a slap in the face. It felt like, “I don’t care how they treated my friend as long as they still love ME.” Disclaimer: That’s my personal emotional reaction to it. I don’t know if Z felt the same way. I’m not trying to speak for them, but I definitely felt betrayed on their behalf because, if the same thing had happened to me, I would feel like, “You don’t have my back. I can’t trust you to stand up for me come hell or high water like I would do for you.”

Let’s talk about the actions taken, so it’s clearer what I actually mean. I immediately decided I would never eat at this establishment again, regardless of who was paying for the meal, because I did not want money spent on MY behalf there. I did not ENDORSE how A treated their staff. X, however, had a strong emotional attachment to A and chose to continue eating there-- which shocked the hell out of me. I’m pretty sure I tried to be understanding at the time because I know X is a lot more sociable than I am and they’re also someone I don’t want to hurt.

Meanwhile, I wrote a 3-star review saying the food was good but I didn’t like the way the owner treated their employees. The owner then demanded, to X, that I-- a completely separate person, for whose actions X is NOT responsible-- take down the review. I did not like that idea. I feel strongly against having to censor myself or be un-allowed to say what’s true. X’s spouse, Person Y, got involved and basically asked me if my “having a voice” (my words that Y repeated) was more important than X’s feelings, and expressed upsetness that X was crying over “a fucking review”.

There are a lot of things Y and I do not see eye-to-eye on. I love and respect them, and I’m grateful to them for helping me quite a lot. But as a working-class person below the poverty level... being expected to swallow THAT, from someone who (also works hard but) comes from a wealthy family who’d be able to help them get back on their feet if something happened??? That was a lot for me to be expected to handle with any sort of grace. I wanted to fucking SCREAM at them that they had no idea what Z had gone through, what I could be at risk of going through if I was unlucky enough. I wanted to tell them both that X should know better and put their desire to be liked by everyone aside for the sake of loyalty to an actual good friend! I wanted to say that if A really valued X, A wouldn’t be emotionally blackmailing X to have SOMEONE WHO IS NOT PERSON X take down an honest fucking review regarding their business practices.

I can say all that in hindsight because it’s been years, but I don’t think our friendship would have survived it if I’d said all that at the time. I took down the review, bristling the whole time that I was once again being demanded to silence myself. Person X and Person A subsequently had a conversation that (paraphrased) went:

“We’re not going to be close anymore, but your money’s still welcome here.”

“No, thank you.”

It was a harrowing experience for X, probably Y, definitely Z, and me. This whole thing was a fucking mess and, while Z has moved on, sometimes this still haunts me, like today, even though I was barely involved. I don’t know why I hold onto things this hard.

I put the review back up, by the way, once X greenlit me to do so. I dropped it down to a 1-star, repeated what I’d said in my old review, and added that the owner had emotionally blackmailed me by proxy into taking down the initial review, so therefore I was dropping it from a mediocre 3-star to a scathing 1-star.

Again, this isn’t supposed to be a shade-post. It just... escapes my comprehension how someone could see their friend be treated like shit right in front of their eyes and not immediately go, “Oh HELL no, you don’t deserve my kindness or my business anymore.” I place a high premium on loyalty and honesty, for the most part. I hate neutrality in the face of personal conflict. If I have a problem with someone and you’re “neutral”, then by definition you are not explicitly “for me”. While I’ve come to accept in the last like... thirteen years that that doesn’t necessarily mean you’re “against me”, not being explicitly for me still feels like a betrayal.

Likewise, if I see someone treat my friend badly, I am explicitly for my friend. While I might continue being civil or even friendly to the other person if I need something from them (e.g. a project partner or someone I’ve commissioned), I’m no longer going to trust them and you bet your ASS I’m selling them out by name the second I get the chance.

I don’t ask that my friends point the finger and say, “Jane Brown is a BAD PERSON because they did THESE HORRIBLE THINGS to my friend and HERE’S THE RECEIPTS!” I just feel like maybe it would be beneficial to think, “Hmm, Jane Brown did something that made my friend hurt and angry. I should consider whether my association with Jane is more important than my friend’s well-being,” especially if another friend has taken a stand and said, “I don’t want to support Jane anymore because of Jane’s behavior towards our friend.”