Aja going home after such an entertaining lipsync for your life AND BEING TOLD THAT THIS WAS THE BEST LOOK THAT SHE HAD SO FAR is literally a physical representation of how you could be great and still lose tbh
(I’ll admit that her 9021-HO performance wasn’t great but c'mon….the character had like the least screen time anyway :/)
The sight of so much pure white for the first time in three-fourths of a century is enough to give him pause, an involuntary impulse flipping the trigger deep with in his memory unit. Memories flood him unbidden, memories of unholy crucifixion at the hands of a humanoid machine, of the Tower that rose from the earth, a burning flare of mental anguish that ate away at him every step he took closer to the death he so craved, memories of a castle in the sky, its white walls hiding secrets that damned them all, memories of a sword, gleaming, brilliant white, jammed to the hilt in his chest as he couldn’t even let out a scream of pain, just a strained gurgle.
It’s near unnoticeable, but…
He tremors. His bare hands shake over the neatly folded clothing, his pulse rate climbing with each beat of his artificial heart, which was less romantic of a notion as a “heart” and more of a glorified pump system.
Calm down…He shakes his head and grasps his right wrist with his left hand, holding it steady. It’s okay.
Taking a long swallow, he manages to finally touch the garments, ghosting his fingers over the Resistance handy work.
They truly had done so much for him, first by allowing himself and 2B to remain with them even after revealing that YoRHa and what little they had to fight for was all a fabrication to keep them placated, and then by doing this…
They owed the Resistance their lives. Truly, without them, they would have long perished alone in the grand scheme of things.
His fingers massaged the embroidery of the garment as he carefully dressed. They had managed to capture it down to the slightest detail, even down to the slight curvature in the stitching. He expected no less from an android, but he mostly reserved this kind of skill for practical purposes, such as repairing a tent or patching the frayed fabric of someone’s work pants. According to the records, humans wore these kinds of garments only once and wearing them now, he could see why.
He hadn’t worn his YoRHa uniform for quite some time, the very thought sending him into a panic he couldn’t calm despite the soothing words from 2B or his Pod. Sometimes, he would simply bore his eyes into the crumbling concrete walls of their room, lost in memories of anguish and anger.
But this uniform was different. Instead of the stoic black of the YoRHa, he was clad head to toe in the soft, creamy white of marriage. He flexed his fingers, testing the new leather of the gloves. They fit well, almost as well as he remembers his own, which are buried in the deepest part of a box he keeps underneath his bed.
He’s not shaking anymore, he notices as he ties the blindfold over his eyes. He’s forgotten how it used to feel, having abandoned that practice with her years ago, but the symbolism of this moment doesn’t belong to them; it belongs to cultures long since dead and forgotten, relics of the past they deemed worth reviving. At the very least, they wanted something that was uniquely theirs and theirs alone.
She studies the flowers and knows that the voice of a chipper and chatty Operator will soon follow as it is dragged, kicking and screaming, from her memories.
It’s painful, to think about 6O and YoRHa even so long into the past they were. Despite her programming, she still has moments where she believed that 6O was calling her for another one-sided chat, only to remember her death in graphic detail.
The stems of the flowers have been bound together with repurposed cables, the blossoms carefully arranged in the bouquet of hydrangeas, lilies and other flowers scavenged from the hillsides. The voluminous flowers weren’t her idea or to her taste, but 9S had liked them. As a compromise between them saw the inclusion of scattered Lunar Tears, a gift from the rolling shop himself.
He also supplied the veil that currently rests atop her head, a light fabric she didn’t know the name of flowing past her shoulders and down her back. She wasn’t sure why she needed to cover her face — the meaning of this tradition was lost on her — but Emil seemed to have a well of old world knowledge he could dig into despite the fractures in his memories.
She stood, catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Old yet new collided to create a dress that made a strange amalgamation of sadness, fury and joy rise in her. Following the pattern of YoRHa standard dresses, this fit well against her body, feeling as natural to wear as a second skin. However, unlike the YoRHa issued clothing, these were white with soft gold embroidery; clearly, these were not made for war, but as the universal sign for surrender, for peace.
In her fingers, she clutched her visor, this too white and gold. It was non-functional, more for aesthetics and private symbolism than anything. This was the last piece holding them back and once this was done, they would leave YoRHa behind and begin again.
The thought of the future, a future with Nines, spurred her to action. She gently brushed the veil to the side and tied the blindfold over her eyes.
He was blind to their presence, but he knew exactly who they were just based off of the sounds they made. The Resistance took up much of the space with their mismatched voices rising above each other as they spoke, filling the empty space with their chatter. He picks out the excited tone of 4S, his fellow Scanner. He’s recording the entire process to study later on, focusing on each new experience for about a second before whipping around to record something else. But one voice in particular stood out, her voice clearly hesitant and unsure if she should even be here due to her history with the pair.
A2…so she had decided to accept the invitation after all… He was both happy and a bit nervous that she had decided to come. They’ve tried to mend the best they could, but even now, a part of him still hates her, still wants to hunt her down.
9S shifts from foot to foot out of nervous habit, anxiety building in him for an unknown reason and his Pod notices right away.
“Pulse rate palpitations detected in unit 9S,” it never really did lose that unsettling monotone, never quite finding the emotional range that the androids possessed. “Perhaps you should breathe.”
His laugh comes out shaky and quiet, tinkling like shards of broken glass in a dryer. He doesn’t know why the sudden outburst happens, but it does in high-stress moments like this and he can’t stop it. He’s glad that they’re too busy talking to hear or notice his brief moment of madness because he doesn’t want to explain the unexplainable processes in his addled brain.
“I’ll remember that,” he says quietly to his Pod, wishing that he could actually seeher instead of a dark silhouette against the white of the blindfold. But he doesn’t want to look yet, lest he catch a glimpse of 2B before the proper time.
They’ve been separated for more than makes him comfortable and it’s eating at him. In the normal span of a day, he’s never more than shouting distance away from her, most times closely clutching her hand in his.
Maybe he’s clingy. Maybe they both are.
The voices fall silent one by one, a sort of reverent and hushed awe hanging in the air where noise once was. He turns his head before remembering that he can’t see what they do, but now he can hear her footsteps against the concrete.
The urge to look is strong. He wants to see her, to feel what they feel and he wonders if she has the same thoughts about seeing him.
She’s unsure in her steps but follows the path led by her Pod. Sometimes, she sways to the right but a simple correction given by her support and she is centered again.
He’s waiting for her just thirty steps ahead, standing off to the left, probably in the same anxious throes as herself. They’re blind, the moment when they meet will be the first time they see each other and cast away the blindfolds forever. It’s a form of symbolic closure, something only they will understand and therefore the perfect inclusion to this ceremony.
Perhaps it’s only a symbol and they never will escape these memoirs of their past. Perhaps closure is something they don’t deserve. Perhaps they don’t deserve love or happiness or each other.
But…she’s reached him now and stands across from him, her hands tightening around the flowers. Carefully, she reaches up with one hand and mimics the gesture of his silhouette, removing the fabric from around her eyes.
They deserve this, and in that moment when their eyes finally meet, they deserve each other.
It’s a celebratory occasion, and A2 has never been much for celebration. It unnerves her, sets her teeth on edge.
She’s not even sure she should be here, basking in their happiness, their joy, because she knows she’s always holding them back. She’s that dark spot on their white clothing, a stain too stubborn to be scrubbed away. She’s the personification of their nightmares, the ones she knows they have, the ones where she is the murderer of his only reason for living. 2B and herself have already come to terms with the fact that 9S will never fully accept her existence, so when she received the invitation she was wondering if it was a mistake or a shill.
Still, she had dragged herself here, reconsidering it halfway through her journey.
The white-clad pair seemed frozen in place as they finally got to look at each other, eyes roaming over their partner. The lovestruck idiots…if they ever thought they were being discreet, they seriously had some problems.
Her Pod takes the flowers from her, floating with the bouquet obscuring much of the light grey rectangle.
A2 is lost in the whole process, this ceremony having been dragged out of obscurity and altered slightly to more fit an android couple. Certain things changed.
They didn’t need to eat so why would they create a…“cake” was it? Most of these old partnering ceremonies included worship to some sort of God, a thing they didn’t believe in. Anemone tried her best to fill in the blanks but they all knew that something was missing from this moment. It felt incomplete and thus something they, the androids, couldn’t fully adopt.
Perhaps in a few years, as this practice became more common among the lovebirds, they would discover what was missing.
The strange thing was, 9S and 2B didn’t seem to care. Perhaps that what was missing. A2 couldn’t understand the point of this process, but for some reason it mattered so much to them. And, she guessed, maybe that was the point. It didn’t matter if she or anyone in the Resistance understood. At the end, it was about them and what stupid shit they wanted.
Huh, maybe that was the point.
9S trembled as he took 2B’s hands, slowly interlocking their fingers together. They promised each other eternity, something as androids they could easily give to each other (but she chose to not point that out), promised each other faith and honesty. It was the sentimental bullcrap that she had to put up with when she was quasi-traveling with them, but she never commented on it outside of sitting on the outskirts of camp whenever they were being, ehem, overly affectionate. She supposed they deserved it; however, and it never really bothered her outside of leaving a strong feeling of pain in her chest.
The more she watched them, the more that idea was cemented: the idea that they deserved some peace and to be these lovestruck fools who didn’t have to murder each other for the sake of a false mission with no goal other than morale. For the greater good, their torment mattering nothing to their creators. They all deserved a moment to be obnoxious with their happiness.
Applause startled her out of her thoughts and, hurriedly, she brought her hands together, hoping no one noticed her late start.
Anemone was perhaps the only person she felt comfortable around, considering their history together and the cool-headed demeanor of the Resistance leader. “I don’t really get this whole celebration.“ A2 muttered to the darker-skinned android as they leaned against the wall.
“They don’t either,” Anemone chuckled softly as her eyes trailed over to the white pair as they swayed awkwardly to soft music Emil played over his speaker. When A2 had approached him, he seemed excited about the whole thing (of course his face didn’t show it but his voice dripped with energy) and zoomed off to…somewhere before she could prod further.
A2 raised an eyebrow, following her gaze. “So what’s the point?” 9S seemed to be muttering something into 2B’s ear, which left her face unreadable as she nodded stiffly. “I know we don’t have to live by structure anymore but…”
Anemone ran her nails down the back of her opposite arm. She was lost in her processes, mulling over her words carefully before parting her lips and saying softly, “it may well be the last time these two experience anything.” When A2 visibly recoiled, Anemone continued, “I forgot you’ve been disconnected from the Resistance server for a while. But…they offered to be the test subjects for the Gestalt process.”
A2 bit the inside of her cheek at the mere mention of the selfsame project that single-handedly ended the human race. “…you guys are really trying that, huh?” She shook her head. “I can’t say I can see it working.”
Anemone’s voice was laced with passion. “There’s been success in smaller, less complex subjects. We’ve exhausted those trials and it’s only natural that we advance to the next step.” She applauded with the group as the song came to an end, 9S and 2B unfurling from their tight embrace. “They’ve decided they would help us take that step, but they wanted to take it together.”
“And you’re just gonna let them?”
“I can tell you; I tried to convince them otherwise. Nothing I could say could sway them.”
The two were joined on the floor by others who wanted to join in the “dancing” or whatever they wanted to call it. “So…what’s going to happen to them?”
Anemone sighed, running a hand through her bangs. “In all honesty, I have no idea. We’re tampering with a Black Box. We’ve had success with deactivated models, but…” She trailed off. Clearly, she was just as hesitant as A2 but more set in her conviction. “We have to try.”
“Last time I checked, there’s no more ‘have to.’” A2 crossed her arms and shifted on her feet.
“I know what you’re thinking.”
“It’s a stupid choice.”
Anemone smiled. “But we have the freedom to make those stupid choices, don’t we?”
He lay to her right, running his thumb over her hand as he studied the sensation one last time. Muscle fibers and circuitry rested underneath the surface of soft artificial skin, her carbonate skeleton dense and reinforced yet flexible. Yet it felt absolutely natural to him.
Would…would that change in a human body? Would it no longer feel the same? Would he never be comforted by her touch, but rather disgusted by the sensation so alien? Doubt swirled in his mind, leaving him with a pit deep in his heart.
Fear. It was crawling it’s way up again, threatening to derail everything they had worked for and promised each other. Their eternity was in this moment and…he was so unsure if life would be awaiting him at the end…
Her voice was low in volume, soft in pitch and gentle in tone, but she was demanding he look at her.
“Nines.” He slowly lifts his head to meet her eyes. She takes his other hand, trailing her fingers along.
Her voice is…minuscule when she says, “I’m scared too.”
In that moment, he knows he’s been selfish. He’s been so trapped in his own fear, his own reservations, his own thoughts that he hasn’t even considered hers.
It’s always been like that: she doesn’t voice her suffering so he simply doesn’t think it exists. Even when they were caught in the dance of life, death and duty, he never once thought of her and her needs because she was 2B and she didn’t need anything.
But she’s just as broken and naked as he is, pieces of herself cut off and tossed into the void. She can never be whole, never be without the fear of waking up with him not by her side, never be safe without a weapon nearby, never be herself again because there never was a “self” to tear out. They had to create those on their own, formulating love and purpose where there should be none after the losses they incurred.
And yet, here she was, holding his hands and preparing for the unknown with him.
He grasped her hands a little tighter, so afraid of letting go. “I…I love you.”
She smiled softly, and, with great reluctance, pulled their hands apart. “I love you too, Nines.”
“Are you ready?” Jackass asked, her eyes on the Black Boxes, dense cubes of compressed matter and energy and the closest thing to an android heart.
The two nodded and felt the wave of a forced shutdown overtake them. Before he fell asleep, 9S could hear Jackass mutter to herself a reaffirmation: “it’s for science. It’s what they want.”
So it seemed they weren’t the only ones with hesi—
When Winn charged at his Papa Bear – all of their Papa Bear – and practically barreled him over in relief that he was alright, Alex had thought she didn’t have to be in command anymore.
Didn’t have to be in charge anymore.
That she could get out into the streets and protect people.
But she’s in charge again, and it’s better now – it’s better now, because J’onn’s awake, J’onn’s alright, J’onn is safe and J’onn loves her – but she still feels like, in the very moment she has an arsenal at her fingertips and an army at her disposal, she is spiraling out of control.
Maggie’s hand on her arm, Maggie’s soft words in her ear, Maggie’s gentle eyes on her face?
They help, but god, everyone’s going to die, and it’s going to be her fault.
Her fault because she hesitated.
She hesitated but if she hadn’t Kara would be dead and if she hadn’t she might as well be dead because life without Kara…
There might be life without Kara, anyway, at the rate this is going.
“Danvers, you don’t have to do this by yourself.”
“You’re also not, what, four hundred years old? And he doesn’t do it alone, Alex.”
“He does, Maggie, he – “
“No, babe. No. J’onn has you. And you have me. Okay?”
Alex chews on her bottom lip and tries to decide whether Maggie is biased because they’re dating or whether she’s just… right.
Because she is trained for this. J’onn has trained her specially for this.
And she does. Have Maggie.
“You wanted to coordinate the NCPD efforts from here, right?”
Maggie nods. “I’m also patched into the fire department and EMT services. I won’t ever admit to saying this, but I convinced my captain I had access to superior surveillance than we lowly local cops have. And even extra seconds of warning can give us an advantage.”
The wheels in Alex’s brain spin behind her eyes, and Maggie tries to swallow her smile of pride as Alex nods, calculating.
“Alright. Sawyer, I need you on Winn’s computers, monitoring Daxamite activity and dispatching evac teams and rescue teams as needed.”
Maggie nods, salutes, and turns on her heel.
Vasquez whistles, Maggie smirks as she straps into Winn’s headset, and Alex fixes Vasquez – and every other DEO agent with amusement in their war-torn eyes – with a death glare.
“Vasquez, I need you on structural integrity. If anything starts buckling in this building, I need to know about it right away.”
“Ma’am,” she winks as she mimics Maggie’s salute.
“I swear I’m locking you all up when we get out of this,” Alex murmurs as she watches the locator beacons lighting up on Maggie’s screen.
Maggie’s hand rests on hers for a brief, intense moment.
“Fine by me. But you’re right: we will get out of this. Because you’re gonna lead us there, Alex. I believe in you, okay?”
Alex just grins as calculations, strategies, and backup plans spin behind her eyes, a new look on her face and a new meaning in her posture: confidence.
…i kinda want to read a slowburn will/freddie fic. i mean, i don’t even particularly like freddie, but i’ve been kinda thinking about all the glorious hate sex they’d have, how they’d essentially be enemies-with-benefits/enemies-to-lovers-to-friends, how they’d snark and snipe at each other and never let the other get away with anything, how despite their mutual antagonism and clashing personalities they’d somehow work so amazingly well together.
what would start off as grudging tolerance for the other’s company would evolve into reluctant respect, and then not-so-reluctant admiration, and before either of them’d realize it the barbs they’d trade would lack the sharp edges they used to and become almost teasing. they’d start fighting less and listening to each other more. they’d spend time together not just because they have to, but because they want to, because neither of them have to pretend to be something they aren’t with the other.
they’d laugh together a lot because they’re both blunt with a dark sense of humor and a wicked tongue.
they’d argue a lot, too, because they’re both stubborn and proud and honest to a fault. it will happen less and less as time goes on, but enough that make-up sex will be a thing for them.
they’d keep each other on their toes.
they’d look out for each other.
they’d, eventually, learn how to make their jagged edges fit together.
they’d, eventually, learn how to make each other happy.
idk man, the way will gets when freddie’s around is interesting af. all that barely tempered rage and scathing taunts/sarcasm. freddie brings out the worst in him and it’s kind of glorious.
Buster has to work to officially make the theater his own or.
Nana dies and passes the theater onto Buster and they all throw together this giant performance in her honor. Stuff makes it rough. Focuses a lot on Eddie and how he needs to find a dream, or smth.
Or, Nana has a dying wish to perform one last time in the theater. Everyone works to make it happen.
Side plots? Johnny’s father and his gang can be helped out of prison with prize money of some sort, and maybe they can find a dream in the theater arts as well inspired by Johnny somehow?
Ash is writing more and more songs, and maybe finds a new romantic interest? But she is stand-offish and not taking risks, so maybe the new interest tries to woo her with a song that shows his appreciation for her.
Meena keeps overcoming her shyness and tries to branch out more, to become a regular performer at Buster’s theater maybe? Since she really enjoyed it, but she still has her moments of stage fright.
Miss Crawly and her new bf being cute. Maybe she retires. Buster has to get someone else to take her place, but he’s having an internal struggle with it tbh.
MISS CRAWLY DIES? I will die if that happens.
Some more flash backs of Buster’s childhood and father that help parallel current events would be pretty sweet, and would keep the charm the first movie has, as well.
We need a ‘work together as a team’ moment. Please and thank you.
NO ROMANTIC INTEREST FOR BUSTER BYE.
Rosita and Norman are working on their relationship to improve it, but 1. maybe it keeps falling out and Gunter helps reassure Rosita, or 2. Norman quits his job and tries to be at Rosita’s side with her dream. Fashion/performance advice from Gunter????
Mike and Nancy performing together while running from the bears. We need a resolution for them, where Mike also starts to finally change and find enjoyment in singing. WE SAW THE POSSIBILITIES OF THIS AT THE END OF THE FIRST MOVIE.
These are just a few random ideas. They don’t mash well together, but these are a few things I would be interested in seeing happening!
Three months later and Y/N was well and truly settled into the Reid household. She’d accepted the position, of course she had, there’d been something about the tall, messy haired man that she felt akin to. She asked to meet Ella before making her final decision, finding the nine year old friendly but slightly reserved at the same time. Two weeks later she’d pulled her car onto their drive and moved her things in, being handed a set of house keys and a credit card for groceries. After an initially rocky first month she and Ella developed a bond and settled into a routine, and now life was good.
Spencer was home almost every weekend like he’d told her he’d be. The two Saturdays he’d been caught in a case, he’d made sure to phone ahead and arrange alternate cover for Ella so that Y/N could still attend her class. The alternative cover was usually Georgia, his ex wife who Y/N had met two weeks into her role. She’d found this other woman interesting and intriguing, as well as very blunt. But she was a good mother to Ellie and a good sort of step mom to Ella when she was needed. And Y/N had found herself calling her on a few occasions when she couldn’t get hold of Spencer, the first time being when Spencer was away on a case and Ella had fallen ill and had needed collecting early from school. Y/N had been halfway across town about to sit a test for her course, a test she’d had scheduled in for weeks. Gee had been a lifesaver, collecting Ella and depositing her back at home, staying with her until Y/N returned two hours later.
“Thank you so much! I’m so sorry you had to come out of work for this… ”
“It’s no problem Y/N, seriously. My office is generally very good at making concessions for those with kids, I just told them it was Ellie that was sick. She’s all tucked up in bed now, poor thing.”
“I’ll go check up on her in a moment. Thank you again.”
“Like I said, no problem. How are you finding things here anyway?” The woman brushed a lock of her hair back and took a look around the kitchen that was now way more organised and uncluttered than it had been a few months before.
“It’s good. Ella’s a sweetheart most of the time. She’s a great kid although occasionally I get the distinct feeling that she’s holding back from me and her dad.”
“Yeah, she still has her moments even when she’s with us. She still misses her mom, bless her. We all do.”
Y/N had been surprised by that comment, still not knowing the full story of what had happened all those years ago. But she didn’t let it show this time. Georgia spoke again.
“How are you finding Spencer?”
“Erm.. He’s fine. When he’s here he’s great with Ella and he doesn’t seem to have any issues with what I’ve been doing. I try to keep out of their way though once he’s home, to give them time together.” She did, once the dishes from the evening meal were cleaned away and Ella’s lunch was made for the following day she generally took herself off upstairs to her room. The room she’d been given was large and had an ensuite attached. Most nights she’d take a long bath and read, or catch up on her online modules, completing her homework. At the weekends, she try to arrange meetings with friends so she was out of the house unless she was needed.
“Well that’s very good of you. You should take the time to get to know Spencer though. Seriously, he’s a great guy. You’re studying psychology right?” Y/N was surprised again by how much this woman seemed to know about her, but she nodded.
“You should talk to him about it, he could probably help with your coursework and things. Who better than an FBI profiler to help you?”
The woman had a point and Y/N made a mental note to try to get to know Spencer a bit more if the opportunity arose.
Over the next few months it didn’t, not really. It wasn’t like Y/N and Dr Reid didn’t converse, they spoke a lot about Ella and Ellie, and she even joined them all on a trip to the local zoo one weekend when he had both girls. But at night she still sloped off to her room if he was home and she didn’t have plans with her friends. One Saturday night, that finally changed.
“Bye Olive, thanks for the ride babe!” Y/N balanced her take out pizza in her hand as she clumsily waved goodbye to her friend and searched her bag for her house keys.
She’d been out celebrating a friends birthday and whilst she definitely wasn’t smashed, she also definitely wasn’t sober. She didn’t want to eat her greasy pizza in bed so she figured she’d grab another glass of wine from her shelf in the kitchen and catch up on Game of Thrones on the big TV downstairs. Creeping into the kitchen and sliding her pizza onto the side, she pulled a clean wineglass out of the cupboard and was humming the last song she’d been dancing to, to herself quietly as she poured, tottering on her heels.
Y/N nearly jumped out of her skin, clutching the wine bottle so she didn’t drop it. She turned to see Dr Reid leaning against the door frame, an amused look on his face.
“Jesus fucking christ…. ” a rare expletive slipped her lips and Spencer raised his eyebrows not used to hearing that language from her. She’d trained herself not to swear around her charges and her employers but the combination of the alcohol and the fright he’d given her had loosened her tongue.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you Y/N.”
“It’s fine…. I’m sorry if I woke you up. I thought I’d closed the door quietly.”
“You did. I was still up, reading in the lounge.” Y/N realised then that he wasn’t dressed for bed, still in slacks and his shirt. His tie was missing and the sleeves were rolled up messily. Thick glasses were perched on the bridge of his nose, she hadn’t realised he even wore them.
“Did you have a good night?” Dr Reid asked again.
“Yes…. I did thank you. I’ll erm… Just take these up stairs and get out of your way then.” She could watch GoT upstairs, the houses cable package extended to her TV as well. She’d just have to be careful with her food.
“You weren’t planning on going straight to bed were you?” Dr Reid studied her reactions and she slowly shook her head knowing their was no point in trying to lie.
“Don’t let me keep you from doing whatever it was you were going to. This is YOUR home too Y/N. You don’t have to hide yourself away in your room you know?” his voice was soft and kind.
“Oh erm, okay. I was just going to eat this and catch up on a show, that was all.”
“Well by all means, stick with your original plan.”
Y/N did, taking her wine and pizza box through to the lounge and resting them down as she searched through the catch up TV programme that they had to find her show. Spencer followed her back through a few moment later, a tumbler filled with what Y/N thought to be whiskey.
“Is that pepperoni I can smell?” Dr Reid asked her.
She nodded. “Do you want to share? I probably won’t eat it all anyway. It’s probably best if you sit on the couch with me though.”
She settled back down and opened the pizza box, resting it in the middle of the couch as Spencer sat on the opposite end. He glanced up at the TV just as she was about to press play.
“Game Of Thrones? I haven’t watched this since like the second season.”
“You haven’t?” she set the remote back down. He shook his head.
“Have you not even read the books? Surely with your reading skills it would have only took you a few hours.”
“I started too, but then… Well, life got in the way. Mind catching me up quickly? All I know is that that little shit Joffrey is dead.”
Y/N chuckled at his words and spent the next twenty minutes giving her employer a brief run down of the goings on in Westeros. When she was done, she hit play and started to munch on her now cold pizza. She didn’t mind, she sometime preferred it that way.
Every few minutes Spencer would pipe up asking who a certain character was and she’d pause the TV to explain. After the fourth time, he apologised.
“I’m so sorry. This must be extremely annoying for you. I’ll erm, shut up and just read up on it tomorrow. In fact… I’ll just leave you to it.”
He went to stand up and Y/N found herself blurting out, “No. Please, sit back down Dr Reid. I don’t mind explaining to you, in fact… I was rather enjoying it. It’s not very often we actually sit and talk. It was…. It was kinda nice.”
Reid settled back down, glancing over at his companion and seeing she meant her words.
“We don’t really, do we. Perhaps we should. Okay. If you’re sure you don’t mind, I’ll stay. And tomorrow I’ll Wikipedia the seasons I’ve missed. Maybe… Maybe we could watch this together. Make it a weekly thing?”
“I think we should. If you’re out on a case, I’ll record it and wait for you. Sound like a plan?” Y/N smiled some what shyly.
[Cynthia feels useless agaist Larry. He’s the one with the money and a job: the man of the house. He has control, but she doesn’t like watching her children like this. She has no idea what to do, or even if this is wrong or not]
i need to find someone like peridot in my life
i need someone who understands my mental illness as much as peridot understands lapis'. i have literally never seen a character be so patient and helpful in someone's recovery as much as peridot is. she's always aware of anything that could trigger lapis, makes it a point to make sure lapis is okay before leaving, and immediately assures her that she will return - not wanting lapis to think she will abandon her. surely lapis still has her moments of weakness from time to time but she seems genuinely happy now, laughing and smiling because of camp pining hearts and meepmorp. i need a peridot in my life.
They had gone three years with peace, their kingdom thriving and growing. The crops grew faster than they could harvest, the market was always busy, and the streets were always bustling with smiling faces. The people weren’t sure what to do with the peace, at first, having lived under such a tyrannical ruler for so many years. They would walk with caution, their eyes darting around, as if they were afraid of someone attacking them. Many didn’t know what peace felt like, and almost none of them remembered a time when they were safe.
Then, on a day when Queen Lucy was taking a stroll through the markets, searching for a gift for her dear friend, a young faun fell in front of her, the bucket of water he had been carrying drenching the Valiant from head to toe. The entire street stilled, all fearful of what would happen. The faun himself was visibly shaking with fear, and he started apologizing profusely. “M-my Que-queen I-I-I-” The young woman cut him off then, but not with cold words or a harsh slap, but with a loud, playful laugh, causing the faun to go still as stone. “Please, do call me Lucy! It’s alright, I assure you. I was feeling rather hot, and you helped cool me off, so thank you for that.” She gave him a smile, the kindest smile he had ever seen someone give him, and he gave her a tentative one in return. “Are you all right? That was quite a nasty fall you had. I feel as if I should be the one to apologize!” The faun nodded, his smile growing less afraid and more friendly. “I’m alright.”
“I am overjoyed to hear so. Might I inquire your name?”
“Silas, your majesty.”
“It is my pleasure to meet you, Silas. And please, I’d much rather you call me Lucy. If all my friends started calling me Queen Lucy and Your Majesty, so much time would be waisted!” She gave him such a lovely grin, talking briefly longer before venturing back to the castle, and it was then that the people started to feel that they could have peace.
And then, three years later, that all came crashing down, all with a simple pair of scissors.
“Lucy, Peter wants to talk to you about something. He’s in his chambers.” Edmund’s dark eyes held a hint of despair in them, something the youngest Pevensie hadn’t seen in her brother’s eyes in years. Despite her questions, she nodded, slowly making her way through the warm castle, down long corridors. The magnificent’s door was open just barely when she approached it, making her cautious. A tentative hand pushed its way into the room, the rest of the body following. Inside, light flooded in through the open balcony, a gentle breeze calming her panicked nerves. “Peter? Are you in here?”
“I’m out here, Lu.” His voice floated in on the wind, but there was a heaviness to it, as if he was carrying the world alone on his shoulders. (In a way, he was.) His back was to Lucy as he looked out over her ocean, the smell of the sea filling the room. He gripped something tightly in his hands, something that glinted in the sun and caught Lucy’s curious eye. “Edmund said you wanted to see me? What’s that you’re holding?” He glanced up to look at her, his sister. She had grown so much in three years; not only growing more mature, but physically as well, for she was only now half a head shorter than Susan now, where she had been at least three heads shorter when they first entered Narnia. Her golden hair reached just above her hips, and she was so proud of how long it had gotten. They had all grown their hair long, his own locks stopping just barely below his shoulders. Peter frowned at the thought of what he was about to do. “I’m afraid I did. I need you to do something for me.” Slowly, his hand around the object opened, one finger after another at an agonizingly slow pace, until his palm lay flat, revealing a simple pair of scissors. Lucy’s eyebrows knotted together, perplexed. “What is this?” It was then the young queen noticed the Magnificent’s solemn expression, her eyes darting to the scissors, and then they slowly made their way back up to his hair. “Peter…” Her voice breaks, beginning to understand their situation, “What is this?”
“We knew there was an uprising stirring, of the remaining followers of the Witch. They’ve been burning outlying villages, stealing… killing, and we can let this stand no longer. This started with war, and war seems to be the only way to end it.” His heart breaks at the sight of tears forming in his beloved sisters eyes, his own eyes feeling wet. Her head drops to her chest, her hands covering her face. “We had kept the peace for so long. Everyone here felt safe. We were happy.”
“I know, my darling sister. But perhaps once we accomplish this, we will be peaceful again. Now, if it is something you wish not to do, I’m sure Edmund would be willing, but…” He holds out the scissors, and Lucy’s hands lower from her face, her eyes widening at what he’s asking of her. “Edmund wished to cut his own hair in private, but I cannot bring myself to do it, knowing what it means for us, for Narnia…” The young blonde’s hand shot out, wrapping her fingers around the cold metal, finding them heavier that she expected. “You need not carry this burden alone, brother. For as long as I am you sister, I will help you carry it.”
“When did you become so wise?” She smiles, moving to stand behind her beloved brother. “It comes with the title, I suppose. Are you ready?”
“I don’t think I ever will be, but you should do it before my mind changes.” She nods, and silently, makes the first cut. The strands of hair fall slowly to the ground, sounding louder than they should.
Lucy makes quick work of it, not wishing to draw out something that must be miserable for her brother to endure. It can’t take more than twenty minutes, but to the two Pevensie’s, it feels like an entire lifetime. Once the final cut is made, Lucy sets the scissors on the balcony rail, turning to Peter. His eyes have glazed over, staring down at the hair encircling him. Lucy’s heart breaks for her brother, her king, knowing what has to happen next. Peter weakly utters, “We had three years…” and in that moment, the Valiant Queen knows what she must do. Her hand shoots out, wrenching the scissors for their place, bringing them up to her hair around chin length, and cuts. She continues cutting, (more like violently chopping), until all her hair is roughly the same shortness, and only when the scissors in her hand clatter on the cold stone, she realizes her breathing has grown rather ragged. She’s still for a moment, taking in what she had done, and then she looks to Peter. His mouth gapes open, his gaze shooting between his sister and her golden locks now covering his. He opens his mouth, his voice rough and confused. “Lucy, why…?”
“How many times must I remind you that you are not Atlas? You needn’t carry the world alone. Don’t forget we’re a family, Peter. You wage war against one, you wage it against us all.” He can’t stop himself from staring at the girl in front of him; this girl who was put in a position of power and took the challenge head on, the girl who was more like a young woman due to her knowledge and wisdom and ferocity. Before he was aware it was happening, he was standing, and Lucy was pulled into his embrace, his strong arms wrapping securely around her shoulders. Her own arms wrapped around his waist, the two simply standing, letting the embrace calm them both. They stood there, neither speaking, but knowing that, as long as they had each other, had their family, everything would be alright.
Many years later, they had formed a tradition, of sorts. Whenever there was to be war, and hair was to be cut, all four monarchs would travel to the stone table to do it. It took Susan some time to agree to the idea, ever the hater of war, but Lucy convinced her, in the end. It was Lucy’s idea, after all, that they go to the stone table for the occasion. “He had his hair cut there for us. Seems only right we cut ours there for him.” It was in those silent moments, when hair fell on broken stone, that they felt the most somber, but also, they knew that it was being cut for a purpose, and the peace that became after war was more than worth the small sacrifice.
OOC: As a bit of a note for any who are a bit confused, some backstory. This post was based off of one (I can’t remember who wrote it) but it’s basically a post stating that many nobles, during a time of war, would cut off their hair to signify the end of peace and the start of war. @oh-dont-worry-honey was wonderful and brainstormed headcanons with me, and came up with EXTREMELY good ideas for it, and I’m rather glad with how it came out. I do hope you enjoy it. :)
Can everyone just put themselves in Waverly Earp’s shoes?
The girl just discovered her whole life is a lie, her girlfriend broke her trust, her sister is pregnant…
She could be a half revenant and for all we know Wynonna may have to chose on whether she has to kill her or not to break the curse, after all she probably won’t want the baby to carry on with this curse so…
Give Waverly Earp a break, she is human (part human?), she makes mistakes, her whole life she has tried to find validation in people who don’t love her and have let her down (I mean Willa hated her, her “dad” didn’t care about her and Wynonna kind of abandoned her) and still she tries her best to be good.
She has her bitter moments, she admitted it herself but that kiss was a crack in the perfect persona she tries so hard to be.
So I guess my point is, please look further when judging Waverly’s actions.
I bet ever since Izuocha Adopted Eri, she rarely cries and feels sad unless it's something like her Papa being hurt or something.
Eh…yes and no.
I mean, yeah, ever since that she’s had far less reason to, but just because someone is surrounded on all sides by people who love and protect them doesn’t get rid of all the trauma they’ve been through.
And Eri has been through enough to warrant regular visits to a child psychologist/therapist ten times over, and that’s only going by what we’ve seen of her so far, for all we know Horikoshi is holding back the really awful shit she’s been through for some last minute reveal and everything up until now will look like child’s play…though I doubt that.
So yeah, even after she’s rescued, she still has her moments where she just…cries, or feels sad, or just doesn’t feel like…anything at all. Nightmares are most definitely still a thing, probably will continue to be for at least the first year after she’s rescued.
But, she is loved, and safe, and with people who care for her and know when she needs space or when she needs a distraction or something to do. Izuku and Ochako especially. But even then sometimes that’s not enough, sometimes it just hurts too much and all they can do is hug her as tightly as they can while she sobs her heart out.
Izuku, being the kind who wants to help everyone, is particularly upset by how little he apparently can actually do to help her, he confides in All Might along side Ochako, saying that he doesn’t know what to do, that he just wants her to be okay and to stop hurting as much as she does.
Ochako is much the same, seeing this poor girl in so much pain, looking over her shoulders on some of her bad days even though she’s safe, waking up screaming in the middle of the night and all she can do is hold her until she stops shaking. Ochako hasn’t felt this useless since her parents company went bankrupt.
All Might puts a hand to their shoulders and lays down some harsh but honest truth, “Young Eri is not alright,” Izuku’s opens his mouth to say I know but All Might continues, “After everything she has been through, she may never be. But, she is strong, and by her side stand two people who love her more then anything in the world.”
Izuku can’t speak, tears well up in his eyes. Ochako looks down on the ground, clenching her fists.
“She has to live with this, this pain and fear, but she need not do it alone.” He squeezes their shoulders a bit more tightly, his voice quiet yet powerful, “So long as she has you two, so long as she has all of us, she will never have to.”
The both of them are openly crying by now.
“Sometimes, you can’t love a person’s pain away,” His voice shakes a little, remembering a time where the one he admired most was in heart rending agony and he could do nothing to help her, strengthening his resolve to make his point clear, “But you can love them during the times it hurts the most, you can love them with their pain, you can help them carry the weight of it.” A tiny tear slips by his stony features, “That’s all you can do, do you understand?”
They nod through their tears, their faces filling with determination.
“Good…make sure you never forget it.”
Eri is still sad sometimes, still cries and wakes up screaming from nightmares.
But she smiles more these days, she has more reasons to, and more people to do it with.
And those people will love her from now until forever.
On Tuesday during the after-school program, I can’t get my brain to shut up. I look towards the door every five seconds starting right when school ends, anticipating the moment when April walks in to pick up Alaina. Prior to this, I spent the whole day hyping myself up and going over how this interaction would play out. If she just follows her parts in the script I made up in my head, it should be fine.
Today, we were making frozen yogurt for snack time and as we all can see that didn’t go as planned when three certain boys decided playing in the ingredients were better and papa kept teasing mommy.
Also, mommy brought work home. Taylor works with rescued exotic and domestic animals. She currently is fostering a red fox kit named Pepper who was rescued from a fur farm. The reason this is, Pepper is a very calm and relaxed fox, compared to how most foxes are and she take to being around multiple humans very well, which most tamed, not domesticated, foxes only take to one human. She still has moments when her instincts take over and she can be possessive of certain things and she has already made a den inside our couch. Then I can’t mention the smell, foxes STINK, really bad. But everyone loves her and shes taken to Lani mostly but we watch her carefully with the kids for both her and their safety. She may be lazy and laid back but you can never be to relaxed. Shes still a wild animal at heart. And before anyone panics about her being near Lani: Shes had all of her shots, we made sure she smelled all of the kids scents before we let her in the house, most of the time shes in her little area outside in the backyard but we do bring her inside. Also, she is never left unattended with the kids at ALL. Then lets not forget that being around Animals can be a great help in building a strong immune system
Our other guess is Thumper the long eared rabbit. Taylor adopted her and now Sophia has a new friend who she can play with and once Pepper gets adopted or taken back to the rehab, she can roam free around the house.