the coloring in this scene is awful don't look at me like that

So earlier today I got rather pissed off when some rude anon who has probably never made a GIF in their lives decided to attack my friend (and one of the best GIFmakers I know) for no reason telling them not to talk about GIFmaking like it’s a big deal since it’s just taking clips from existing video. I was hoping to forget about this, but I couldn’t stop thinking about how many non-GIFmakers really do think that’s all GIFmaking is (including myself before I started making GIFs to some extent). Luckily, most people aren’t that rude about it and know not to insult content creators over a topic they actually don’t know much about…but I still feel the need to discuss some of the often lengthy effort that goes into making medium to high quality GIFs.

As a disclaimer, I’m NOT trying to be elitist and I honestly don’t consider myself one of the top tier GIFmakers. I also don’t think that GIFmakers HAVE to put in a lot of effort to alter GIFs from the original video frames if they don’t want to. It’s just a hobby where we try to capture/highlight cool moments using a severely limited and dying file format lol…so it’s really up to the individual how much they wanna put into it. However, the truth of the matter is that many GIF and graphics makers that contribute greatly to numerous fandoms DO put in a significant amount of effort to make their GIFs look different from and better than the original video.


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I know that SuperCorp is very unlikely to happen because Sanvers is already a thing, but between us… that’s bullshit.

Tv shows should always aim to reach out for the audience, capturing their interest - on a side trying to represent them and on the other trying to surprising them. We’re getting a hint of representation of the LGBT community (and I’m not saying LGBTQA+, because that part of the community is practically nonexistent according to the media) right now, which is definitely not enough, and what we get is rarely a quality product (for the most part, we’re used to make jokes, which isn’t representation, but more likely cheap comedy). We frequently get little screen-time, poor character development (he’s gay, what else is there to say?) and yes, we often get to DIE too (for the benefit of famous “shock value”… which doesn’t shock anybody, really, since it happens almost all the time). What we don’t get is main roles, good backstories, characters who are not only defined by their sexual orientation and… well, to live, to grow and get to be happy on screen (what an absurd concept, am I right?).

Supergirl has done an incredible job by representing Alex Danvers’ coming out story: it showed its audience how a strong, brave woman like Alex can still be very fragile and struggle with this kind of realization; how she fears to accept herself, to be fully herself and out with the people she cares the most about, and more importantly how things can actually go well. This is damn important, ‘cause it helps a lot of people to think that “Hey, maybe my family won’t take it this badly” or “Maybe my friends will accept me” and “Maybe things will change for the better!”, ‘cause guess what? IT CAN HAPPEN AND IT HAPPENS! But this is not very interesting to show, apparently, ‘cause most of the time it’s all freaking dramatic and it ends in tragedy.

The new generations are already lucky, ‘cause now there is something like this (Supergirl) on Tv, but it’s not enough still, ‘cause they’re portraying a tiny fragment of their audience, of the people around the world, and if you think “But it’s a lot already”, I’m gonna tell you that the straights have every single damn shade from every single damn angle for their representation on screen, while we are barely there and almost never the main character or anything close to that. Yes, there are movies in which we are protagonists, but let’s be real, they’re almost always centered on our sexual orientation, the discovery and the consequences, which is helpful and good to see, but it’s not everything there’s to see and to know. Plus, they really abuse of the dramatic factor of it in order to “send a message”, but that’s a message wasted on the straights, and if they think you’re an abomination already, surely a movie won’t change their minds. Instead, it will just fuel fear in us, which - there’s no really need to say it - it’s bad (we unfortunately have reality for that).

I remember my probably very first approach to the whole “girls liking girls” thing thanks to the media.
I was a kid and I was watching this movie on the Tv. I remember only pieces of it, ‘cause I don’t think I was paying much attention until a certain point. What I still recall, though, stuck in my head for a reason.
There were two girls, one white and the other brown, that grew closer to each other (I seriously don’t remember anything about whatever was the rest of the story). I recall this very specific scene that had me and my sister (who was also watching) like: “Oh, they are helping each other undressing ‘cause they’re friends”. When they started making out we were like “Oh… Okay, so they’re not just friends, apparently”, and that was it. I don’t think we knew about all the hatred towards people of same sex being in love with each other, to us it was just like “Okay, this is a thing that exists: acknowledged”. They seemed to be fine, so there was no issue… right? WRONG!
The white girl’s brother saw them, got angry as shit, took a gun and started shooting at them. They got into a car, trying to get away from him, but he got into another and started chasing them. It was raining, they were scared as shit, he looked insane, I felt the anguish growing inside of me: it was awful (again, I was a kid at the time).
The car slipped, then fell down a bridge into a river/lake and it quickly sank. After a while, only the white girl emerged from the water. The other drowned.
Last scene that I remember was a time jump where the white girl was a now a white granny, and she was probably remembering this terrible thing that happened to her once.

No fucking wonder if growing up I didn’t want to be gay and I pushed down my feelings and thoughts, since this is the kind of message to which I was subjected. And now? Now there are some things that portray the whole “being gay” as normal (as it always should be) and not in a dramatic, catastrophic way, but it’s also true that we get shows like The 1OO, Person of Interest, Orange Is The New Black, Pretty Little Liars, The Walking Dead and many, many, many others where the lesbian freaking dies, where there is no happy ending for us.

It’s simply not okay.

But to finally address the very main reason why I started this post - that no one will read ‘cause it’s too long, and people have time only for thoughts as long as a tweet - is the importance to acknowledge the presence of MORE THAN ONE GAY CHARACTER in a story. In a story AND in a family. Yes, as crazy as it sounds, we are more than two and we indeed can have LGBTQA+ wonderful siblings. Madness, right? Except that it’s not, it’s our reality, which is way more colorful, interesting and beautiful than the arid one-sided representation we witness on daily basis (I’m talking about heteronormative).

So, what really drives me nuts, it’s not the fact that people seem to be scared shitless to insert us in anything (although we’re everywhere), but how little crafty they are. We have proven to be a real force of nature over the whole LGBT Fans Deserve Better initiative, which raised by far $166,547 for the Trevor Project, and we did that after being smacked down once again by showrunners. Can you imagine what we could do if people were fair to us, for a change? We’re loyal, passionate, absurdly creative and talented (have you ever seen our fanArts, read our fanfictions? They’re often better than the original stuff and we don’t get paid a coin for making them), and yet we hardly get anything.

Tv shows should listen to their audience and get smart, because it’s not a pink UFO the thing we’re asking for, it’s not something that won’t fit their story, but simply more good representation. Supergirl scored with Sanvers, but there’s still so much potential that is sadly going to waste, and if they opened their eyes they would see it.

Do you want a great, original idea? Be fair and listen.

If Izaya had a crush on Shun (4)
  • Shun: Izaya-kun! Are you alright?!
  • Izaya: I’m fine…did that beast hit you, Shun-chan?
  • Shun: I didn’t get hit, Izaya-kun you’re the one who’s hurt! Ah, wait – don’t move!
  • Izaya: It’s fine, it’s fine…this is nothing. See? I can still move.
  • Izaya: *shrugs his shoulders, holding back a wince*
  • Shun: Izaya-kun is strong, but you’re still injured. Hey, don’t worry me like that. Stay still, I’m going to heal you.
  • Izaya: There’s no need for that –
  • Shun: Stay still, Izaya-kun.
  • Izaya: …Yes.
  • -------
  • Hajime: (…Was he holding Shun’s hand?)
  • Hajime: Shizuo, why did you throw that vending machine?
  • Hajime: I have nothing against that, but you could have hurt Shun. And then I would have hurt you.
  • Shizuo: HUH?! …I didn’t hit the girl, I think.
  • Hajime: Girl? …What is that guy doing? Shun!
  • Shizuo: Huh? Hey! It’s dangerous to go near the flea, Hajime!
  • -------
  • Shun: *removes his hands from Izaya, the light fading*
  • Shun: Do you feel better, Izaya-kun?
  • Izaya: Thanks to you, Shun-chan.
  • Izaya: *smiles and takes hold of Shun’s hands*
  • Shun: I-Izaya-kun…?
  • Izaya: Thanks. You really do have a magic touch, hm Shun-chan?
  • Shun: *blushing*
  • Shun: E-Eh…
  • Izaya: If it leads to Shun-chan healing me like this, then I wouldn’t mind getting hit by a vending machine again –
  • Izaya: *ducks to dodge the stop sign*
  • Izaya: Again, I didn’t mean that literally. This time it’s a stop sign huh, Shizu-chan?
  • -------
  • Hajime: Shun!
  • Shun: H-Hajime!?
  • Izaya: *evades Hajime’s punch*
  • Hajime: You…stay away from Shun.
  • Shun: Hajime!
  • Shizuo: What the hell have you been up to, fucking flea?!
  • Izaya: Well, well. Not only is there one beast, now there are two. Can’t a man get a peaceful date with an angel around here?
  • Shizuo: …You fucking flea…not appearing in Ikebukuro for a week AND NOW I FIND YOU BEING ALL LOVEY-DOVEY WITH SOME GIRL – YOU WANT TO DIE, AHHHHHHHHH?!
  • Izaya: Shun-chan is a guy. And even if Shun-chan was a girl, it’s none of your business if I’m lovey-dovey with my girlfriend. What, are you jealous or something, Shizu-chan? Did you think I was with a girl and you were jealous because no woman would go near a monster like you?
  • Shun: Izaya-kun!
  • Shun: *runs to Izaya*
  • Hajime: What are you doing, Shun? Get away from him.
  • Shun: Why, Hajime? Izaya-kun is my friend. What do you have against him? He’s a fan of –
  • Hajime: He’s a bad guy.
  • Shun: …Izaya-kun has been nothing but kind to me.
  • Hajime: …Shun.
  • Shun: Hajime. I don’t know why you don’t like him, but I don’t believe Izaya-kun is a bad guy. …You’re not acting like yourself, Hajime.
  • Hajime:
  • Izaya: The angel has spoken. So if you two could leave us alone on our date –
  • -------
  • Hajime (182cm): You’re short.
  • Izaya (175cm): …Excuse me?
  • Shun (182cm): Eh, I like Izaya-kun’s shortness! I think it’s cute ~
  • Shizuo (185cm): …A taller flea…?
  • -------
  • Hajime: I said you're short.
  • Izaya: I'll have you know I'm above the average height for a Japanese man -
  • Hajime: You're too short for Shun. Shun needs someone who can look at him from the same level.
  • Izaya: I wasn't aware you needed to be tall enough to date someone you like. Also, at least I'm not a prickly porcupine.
  • Haijme: …Prickly porcupine?
  • Izaya: That's right. You're like a porcupine with that spiky hair and those glaring eyes. Is this what girls are into nowadays? I can't see why.
  • Hajime: Shun is the leader of an idol group as well, the rival to mine.
  • Izaya: Oh of course Shun-chan is an exception. Shun-chan is perfect. He's my angel after all.
  • Shizuo: …Perfect? Angel...?
  • Shun: *squealing like a fangirl and not sounding like an angel*
  • Shun: Kyaa porcupine - PORCUPINE HAJIME! HAJIME AS A PRICKLY PORCUPINE IS ADORABLE~!!! Imagine, chibi porcupine Ha~ji~me!
  • Izaya: ...
  • Hajime: *smirks smugly at Izaya*
  • Shun: - I love you Izaya-kun, that's such a wonderful idea!
  • Hajime: ...
  • Izaya: *smirks smugly at Hajime*
  • Shun: I want to see Hajime dress up as a porcupine with his cool glare and his tsun-tsun-tsundere!~Ha~ji~me~
  • Hajime: If it's what you want, Shun.
  • Shun: Eh? Really? Hajime must be in a good mood! Then -
  • Shizuo: You piss me off.
  • Shun: …Eh?
  • Hajime: Shizuo?
  • Izaya: And here we have the second unpredictable man. What's your problem, Shizu-chan? Shun-chan didn't even look at you.
  • Shizuo: Ahhhhhhh?!
  • Hajime: *turns to Izaya*
  • Hajime: I'm not a porcupine. I'm a wolf. Officially. Right, Shun?
  • Shun: *snuggling chibi wolf Hajime to his face happily*
  • Shun: Yes~wolf Hajime~chibi wolf Hajime is my life! But~chibi porcupine Hajime is cute too~
  • Izaya: Looks like you're still a porcupine.
  • Hajime: I'm his life.
  • Izaya: …You realize he's just fanboying, right?
  • -------
  • Shun: Kyaaa chibi wolf Hajime really is adorable!
  • Shizuo: *vein throbbing*
  • Shun: He's too cute his ears are so soft HIS TAIL IS SO FLUFFY KYAAAA I'm so blessed!~
  • Shizuo: *fist clenching*
  • Shizuo: *teeth grinding*
  • Shizuo: …OI, IZAYA!
  • Izaya: *looking annoyed from his conversation with Hajime*
  • Izaya: What?
  • Shizuo: *jabs a finger at Shun, eyebrow twitching*
  • Shizuo: This guy is kyaa-kyaaing like a girl and saying annoying things, he's fucking noisy - ARGHHH I WANT TO HIT HIM HE'S A GUY RIGHT?!
  • Izaya: Huh? What does it matter to you whether Shun-chan is a guy or girl?
  • Shizuo: Hah? If he's a guy then I can shut him up, but if she's a girl, then I'll hold back because I won't hit a woman.
  • Izaya: Oh really? Too bad for you, Shun-chan's a girl.
  • Shun: Eh? Me, a girl?
  • Izaya: Hah? You're the one pissing me off, Shizu-chan. Don't you dare lay a hand on Shun-chan.
  • -------
  • Shun: *watching the scene with amusement in his eyes*
  • Shun: Fufufu. You're funny, bartender-san.
  • Shizuo: AHHH?!
  • Shun: *giggling and smiling mischievously at Shizuo*
  • Shun: Ehehe. If I'm a girl, then you won't hit me? What a gentleman you are.
  • Shun: *smiles playfully and speaks in a feminine voice*
  • Shun: Then, please think of me as a girl because I don't want to be hit~
  • Shizuo: ...You're trying to piss me off AREN'T YOU..?!
  • Shun: Not at all~I just don't want to be hit. Am I too pretty to be a guy for you? If that's the case, please don't hit this pretty face, alright? I'm a young master after all, and there are few in number who can hit me.
  • -------
  • Izaya and Hajime: *share a reluctant glance*
  • Izaya: *readying his knife*
  • Hajime: *clenching his fist*
  • Izaya: …Shizu-chan.
  • Hajime: Shizuo.
  • Shun: That's right. Please don't hit me, alright bartender-san~?
  • Shizuo: *glaring at Shun's pretty face*
  • Shizuo: ...Tch!
  • Shizuo: *stomps away from Shun and slams his fist into the wall*
  • Shun: *looks at the destroyed wall with awe*
  • Shun: Wow~bartender-san, you're really strong!
  • Shizuo: AHHHH?! YOU WANT TO BE HIT?!
  • Shun: *pouts with a playful light in his eyes*
  • Shun: Ehhhh but I'm pretty like a girl so you won't hit me right? Ehehe~
  • -------
  • Izaya: *frowning*
  • Izaya: Stop yelling at Shun-chan. What did he ever to do you?
  • Hajime: For once I agree with him.
  • Shun: That's right, it isn't polite to yell at a stranger, bartender-san.
  • Shizuo: ...Tch!
  • -------
  • Izaya: (This guy really pisses me off)
  • Hajime: (This guy took Shun away from me)
  • -------
  • Hajime: *Glaring at Izaya*
  • Izaya: *Glaring at Shizuo*
  • Shizuo: *Glaring at Shun*
  • Shun: *doesn’t know how to glare*
  • -------
  • Everyone:
  • Shun: …Hey? Since Izaya-kun’s friend and Hajime are here ~Hajime~do you all want to go for lunch together~?
  • Hajime, Shizuo, Izaya: NO.

anonymous asked:

Please do the Harry Potter adulthood thing, we want to hear your thoughts on it.

Okay so here’s the thing: most of the Harry Potter stuff I see on my dash is either

a) James Potter is an asshole and a bully/abuser (optional: as is Sirius)
b) Severus Snape is an asshole and an abuser/bully

To be clear, I am not disputing those claims. I’m just observing that they are primarily the thing that I see related to Harry Potter on my dashboard, aside from fairly-constant reblogs of, like, three different “North America Wixen Schools“ that nearly always start with insulting JK Rowling honestly y’all should’ve realized there was probably a reason she didn’t want to talk more about stuff from HP and also, where was this outrage from the assumption that all of Africa could fit in one school and etc…?

But Anyway.

Other statements I tend to see on my dash include:

1) Remus Lupin was a shit father and I lost all faith in him

2) Dumbledore is a terrible irredeemable person (optional: and never cared about anyone [thereby comparing him with Voldemort, who is supposedly incapable of caring for anyone but himself])

3) Holy Fuck The Dursleys (either defending them or being extremely pissed at them.)


Again. I’m not arguing these are true or false statements.

I’m just noticing… they’re all people we thought we knew. Ron sometimes gets this treatment as well, specifically about him being fickle and abandoning Harry on multiple occasions when he was in need. (See: The early Triwizard Tournament, the forest in Deathly Hallows, You’re Snogging My Sister, etc.)

And I think that… maybe there was also a theme in the books that, if I’m remembering right, JK Rowling stated–specifically in regards to Dumbledore–but that can be applied much more broadly to the rest of the cast.

I’m talking about, growing up and realizing people are more complex than we give them credit for.

Because all our expectations of the characters–which were set in stone about as promptly as they appeared, most of them in the very first book of the series–were completely and abruptly, even brutally flipped, by the time we reached Deathly Hallows.

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Day 8 - RivaMika Week 4 - Alegria

RivaMika Week 4: Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 4 | Day 5 | Day 6 | Day 7 | Day 8

Beginning a new year while filled with either elation or sorrow - or both.

AN: A balcony scene in Paris ahhhh~

- - -

With his hands embracing a mug of steaming tea, Levi gazed upon the distant, gleaming lights of the Eiffel Tower and the urban-scape.

Paris, the city of love.

He leaned against the cool rail of his balcony.  The hotel he was staying at provided a nice view of the city.  He thought to make the most of his expensive hotel room by watching the upcoming fireworks in an hour.  

“Lovely night, isn’t it?”

His head turned, facing the balcony adjacent to his, and settled on a frame of a young woman.  The yellow light from her room giving an almost incandescent glow to half of her figure and the other half a bluish shadow from the moonshine and metropolitan lights.  

She wore a short, steel-colored silk robe and a white slip underneath.  Her lips, painted dark red, and her hair curled and sparsely disheveled.  She held a thick book within her fingers and thumb, and the feeble scent of coffee permeated his senses.  

There was a humming of a breeze weaving through from between the buildings.  “As lovely as it is, the night air is quite chilly.”  He expressed concern as he eyed her current attire.  

“I am resilient than most,” she responded, tugging her robe closer to her body and providing a quiet smile.  “May I ask why you are spending New Year’s Eve with no companion, sir?”

He saw no harm engaging into a conversation.  “My trip here is merely for work.  That is all.”

“Ah, and your profession?”

“A professor of foreign language, French, actually.  I am returning to Berlin tomorrow.”

“I am returning there as well,” she spoke gingerly with an air of wistfulness.  “It would be nice to go home.”

He cleared his throat, regarding the young and rather mysterious woman.  “And you?”  Her perfect eyebrows arched in the slightest.  “You do not have a significant other to spend the Eve with?”

He saw her lips twitch, refraining a smile, and he nearly slapped himself; his question sounded very pry and suggestive, to which she might interpret the wrong way.

But she simply laughed, it was soft and warmed him more than his tea, “No, I do not.”

“Well, that doesn’t make sense to me,” he voiced, shifting his body language to show her his attention.  “That a young woman such as yourself is alone in Paris of all places.”

“I am a student.”  She blushed a very light shade.  He did not know whether it was from the cool, night air or from his inquiry.  “Or I was, I recently graduated from the designer lyceum.  Now that I have completed my studies I can return home.”

As another breeze, a colder one, coasted by, he watched her visibly shiver as she clutched the silken material.  “Perhaps, I am not as resilient as I thought,” she humored with a shaky laugh, biting her rouge lips to which he found enticing.  

“You should head inside,” he told her, although his mind was claiming otherwise.  “It would be an awful start of the year if you fall ill.”

Though her next words were nothing short of a surprise.

“Would… would you like to come over?” she murmured, fisting her robe tighter as she looked at the city.

“Ah,” he breathed, a little befuddled at her invitation.  He wanted nothing more than to say yes, but his morals were stronger than his mind.  “It seems highly inappro-”

“I have tea,” she blurted, trying not to sound desperate.  “I assume you have used your last packet since the hotel ridiculously only gives each room two… And I do not like the idea of spending the new year alone, for both of us.”

He could not deny her request and perhaps he, too, did not want to start the new year by himself.  “I accept your invitation, Miss…?”

“Mikasa, just Mikasa,” she smiled, stretching her pale arm over the balcony.  “And what may I call you?”

“Levi,” he grinned, grasping her hand gently.  “Just Levi.”

Gentle reminder that in Tilt/Shift, since Ahsoka is the only one on Mortis with two lightsabers – and Qui-Gon doesn’t have his – she has to share.

And it’s really feelsy because AH lineage stuff. Lightsaber sharing. GETTING TO KNOW ONE ANOTHER.

Also, I wanted to kinda visually show myself the height difference between these two. I was honestly worried for a bit that it was exaggerated, but then I realized…it’s not. It’s not at all.

(Which makes this scene in the fic 10000x more better.)

Sorry for the shit coloring by the way, I just. Didn’t really care. I wanted to get the doodle out while it was still fresh in my mind

At least Ahsoka looks nice. Not…really sure….what happened to Qui-Gon there. But meh. Close enough.

I’ll likely make a cleaner version of this sometime, but until then! Here you are.

anonymous asked:

Dipper being so annoyed with Bill, he starts to carry a spray can filled with holy water around and sprays it at Bill every time he gets too annoying or clingy.

yes good perfect

Burning Pine Trees

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anonymous asked:

I don't know if you take requests but if you wouldn't mind could you possibly write an non Au where emma and killian attend some regal town event and are in awe of how amazing the other looks in formal wear?

Thanks nonnie,  sorry it took a while.  Why look anywhere else for inspiration then the captain’s of our ship themselves.  Emma’s dress (from Jen’s instagram:)

 and I don’t think we all need a reminder of how well Colin pulls off a suit.  Lol,  just kidding.  We always do…

A gala.

Because apparently that’s what they do in the Enchanted Forest when a ‘lost Princess’ returns. 

Emma sighed and looked over her shoulder at the full length dress her mother had helped her to pick out . She’d put her foot down on the subject of wearing anything… poofy, because she fully intended to not trip over herself tonight. And black and red were most definitely out because… well she’d had quite enough of red and black in recent days …

Belle had offered Rumple’s ballroom for the occasion (because of course he had a ballroom), but Gold could hardly complain after everything they’d had to do to bring him back.

“Emma, honey, are you ok?” Snow asked gently.

Emma nodded distractedly.

“I know it’s been… it’s been a lot but… we just want you to enjoy yourself tonight.” Emma threw her hair into a ponytail and Snow toyed with the end from behind her. “Would you mind if I… could I do something with your hair?”

“Is there something wrong with it?” Emma asked, eyebrows raised.

“No, honey. I’m sorry. I just always wanted… I know it’s not really your first ball anymore but I…”

“I’d like that,” Emma broke in.

Snow grinned brightly and pulled out the ponytail, brushing through her daughter’s hair with light fingers.

Emma closed her eyes as her mother expertly tied her hair into what felt like some sort of braid with a practiced quickness. When Emma opened her eyes again her earlier refusal of a tiara had become irrelevant. A crown of braids circled her head and was tucked neatly in at the end with bobby pins. The shock must have shown on her face because Snow’s smile dropped.

“Too much?”

“No it's… it’s beautiful I’m just not used to… Thanks, mom.”

As always Snow beamed at the title, stepping back from the chair to let Emma rise. Emma hurried to grab her purse and her mother smiled, “We have plenty of time Emma, no rush.”

“I thought it started at 7?”

“Not for Royalty,” Snow grinned, “we get to make an entrance.”

Emma’s stomach dropped slightly but she nodded, waiting anxiously as her mother moved unhurriedly to tidy up the room. Dave was waiting for them at the bottom of the stairs when they descended. He kissed his wife gently when she reached him. “You look beautiful, Snow.” He turned sparkling eyes to Emma leaning conspiratorially towards her. “Blink twice if you’re under duress?” he muttered under his breath as he kissed her forehead. Snow’s elbow found his ribs and he laughed, “Kidding, mostly.”

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danosaurawrr-deactivated2016041  asked:

Okay I don't have a idea for this at all, but if you do a wingfic for whouffaldi that would be all I want in life and more

(I think a winged!Twelve story has to start as a “Deep Breath” rework!)

Clara was shaken, but not out of control. She could handle this. The Doctor had awakened, fine, great. He’d somehow arrived at the scene before they had. He was still wildly dangerous, though, still not in his right mind. He was in his nightshirt even in the cold air, standing on the parapet of the bridge, insulting them all for not understanding the problem in front of them. He jabbed a finger in the direction of a man he found suspicious.

“He seems remarkably unmoved by the available spectacle,” Lady Vastra said.

Clara turned, a question on her lips, and snapped her mouth shut. The Doctor was standing on the parapet as before, yes, but he’d changed. He’d changed. Huge gray wings spread out from his back. He pointed in the direction of the fleeing figure, and said, “aha!”

He spread his wings – his wings, his steel-gray wings – and leapt from the parapet. He fell, swooped, flapped, and was in flight. Clara watched him, hand to her mouth, until he vanished in the murk.

“Oh my,” said Lady Vastra. “That’s new.”

It was days later, in the TARDIS, after all was done, and they were on their way back to her home. He was dressed properly now, in a dark blue coat with a red lining. He closed his eyes, tensed his shoulders, and then there was that rustle and that breath of air on her face, and there they were again: wings, magnificent, the same gray as his hair. Fifteen feet. His eyes were closed and his hands spread out at his sides, palms up. The wings spread out, beat once, and folded against his back. He opened his eyes again.

“This regeneration was a bit of a wild one,” he said, and he flashed a smile at her.

“How,” Clara said. “How.”

“I’m bigger on the inside.”


“I know. It’s rare, but things like this sometimes happen. The energy flowing when they answered your plea– the battle in progress. I can’t say.”

He shrugged, but Clara thought she saw something else on his face. Fear, or shame, or something she didn’t like seeing there. It was a strange face to her, but she’d seen all of the faces that came before this one, and she never liked seeing shame on any of them.

“Can I– can I touch them?”

That was the right thing to ask, because he smiled again and this time it was a lovely smile, heartfelt. He turned and spread them again for her. Clara came close to him and laid a hand very gently between his shoulder blades. Such a thin man he was in this regeneration, narrow shoulders, thin back. He was quivering with tension under her hands. She could see the feathers trembling.

She laid a hand on a wing. Feathers, sleek feathers, soft and yet with bone underneath. Such a rich color, so much more complex than mere gray now that she was looking at it. There was iridescence in them, a shimmer under the lights.

“So beautiful,” she said, and he shivered. “And you can fly.”

“I went to a planet of winged people and learned properly. Took a week. I still have the bruises.”

“And you didn’t take me?”

“I wasn’t– wasn’t sure you’d come.”

“Why would you think that?”

“You were angry. You wanted him back, not me. Because I look different now. I am different now.”

“You’re him.”

“And I’m not him.”

“I’ve met you before.”

“But not like this.”

Clara sighed. It was true. He’d never been human, but he’d always looked human until now. “Not like this.”

His wings folded up and he hunched over himself. “I’ll understand if you leave.”

“Leave?” She’d been thinking about it. She had to admit it. He’d frightened her in that restaurant. But he’d also intrigued her and now– now that she saw the challenge, now that she saw his fear, there was no chance she would leave him. “Sorry,” she said. “I’m staying.”

He turned, and she saw that he was as uncertain and desperate as she’d ever seen him. “Even though I’m like this?”

“Doctor–” She stepped close to him again and laid a hand on his chest. “You have two hearts. You’re not the same species as me. You think I’m going to let wings get in the way?”

A wan smile from him, and he touched her hand where it rested on his chest. A brief touch, as if he were afraid of her.

She said, “Besides, I like them.”

That smile again, the heart-stopping one that Clara knew she’d spend years chasing if she had to. “Seriously?”


She hopped up on her tiptoes and pulled him down into a hug. He protested, then his arms closed around her awkwardly. To her awe and delight, the wings followed. She was in the embrace of the wings of an angel. Her angel. Her Doctor, with the new face, and the attack eyebrows, and the graceful hands. And the wings.