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quietwingsinthesky · 1 month

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Hiiiii! So, a few days ago you were talking about the whole thing with Amy, Rory, and River. And when I saw those posts a thought arose in my head and I wish to share it with you.

Since River grew up with Amy and Rory as Mels. And Mels was Amy's best friend do you think that they ever talked about children? Since I know that it can come up when talking with friends, and like... do you think that Amy might've ever expressed whether or not she wanted children?

And if she didn't, that Mels would've had to listen to her mother say that she doesn't want children? The idea is so heartbreaking and sooo interesting.

What do you think about it?

no, no, see, you're so right and this drives me wild.

because, the way i see it, i don't think amy wanted children. she's somewhere on the 'hasn't thought about it' to 'vaguely negative feelings about it happening' range to me, which falls sharply into 'Not Happening Ever Again' post-s6. (specifically, in terms of having a kid herself, even if she could, i really don't think she would. i do love that she and rory end up adopting a kid later, because that does make sense, for amy pond who grew up alone in one universe with her family swallowed by cracks in time before the doctor helped her set it right again, for her to want to make sure another child won't be alone in the world like she was. getting off-track here.)

and that's so. because the first real memory river/mels has of amy is of amy shooting at her. and depending on how well the silence fucked up the rest of her memory, it might be one of the very first memories she has at all. that's how she met her mother, crying for help and getting a bullet instead. her mother tried to kill her, so of course, you have to think. she must have needed to hear that she was wanted, right? even if she was taken away, even if amy shot her, at some point, melody must have been wanted?

river is good at getting people to do what she wants, but she is very, very bad at subtlety. and mels is younger, has less practice, so when she wants to know this, she's just going to ask. blunt and quick, easy enough because amy's used to the way mels will open her mouth and you just have to be ready to roll with what comes out if you want to keep up. it's why they're such good friends (like mother, like daughter.)

they're nine, and mels asks if amy wants kids, and amy wrinkles up her nose and says she won't have time for children, obviously, once her raggedy doctor finally comes back. they're fifteen, and amy and rory dance will they-won't they in a way that makes mels twitchy to watch, and taunting amy about wanting to have rory's babies is a good way to get on her nerves. but amy calls her gross, tells her she's got more life planned than children would leave room for, and besides, imagine her, a mom? it'd be a disaster.

mels does. a lot. she looks at her mother and just sees her best friend instead. she's not even sure what she wishes was there, but. maybe amy's right. and besides. imagine her, a daughter, instead of the ticking time bomb she really is? it'd be a disaster.

they're sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, and on. mels stands on the outside of a love story that births a universe. and her. how do you compete with that? not that she would know, not yet, she hasn't been there. but it doesn't make her feel any less alienated when amy and rory talk in whispers about a half-remembered world that's bled through to this life, about roman soldiers and boxes and the big bang of belief.

all these memories, they never mention children. on amy's wedding day, she's different, not like someone remembering a dream but someone who lived it. rory stands straighter, won't leave her side, and they're both so much older than they were yesterday. maybe now, right? a wedding's as good a time as any to decide you want kids.

mels not being at amy & rory's wedding is such an obvious lazy way of them trying to explain why they totally didn't just throw this plot twist together at the last minute that i'm not even going to acknowledge it. of course she was at their wedding. she's their best friend. there's too many people around the doctor, and she wasn't ready today of all days, so despite this horrible burning need under her skin to strike, she stays her hand. doesn't let him dance with her because she might just tear his throat out if he gets too close. stays with amy and rory as the maid of honor should. she must have been there for the awkward questions that always gets asked, 'so, any plans for a baby?' 'when am i getting grandkids?' 'oh, you two are going to have gorgeous children together.' standing a few feet from amy in her wedding dress and watching her mother tense and grit her teeth and brush off the questions. watching her look nervously at rory but never ask if he means it when his mom asks him if he'd prefer a son or a daughter, and rory answers 'either one, some day, not anytime soon.'

god i'm just going on and on, aren't i. but really, what's it like to know that amy never changed her mind. the next time she sees them, she's already been born and stolen. i don't like let's kill hitler for. so many reasons. but there is something compelling about how recklessly river lashes out at the world, at the doctor. even her sacrifice at the end is almost suicidal, throwing all her regenerations into this man without knowing if that will even work or if it might kill her to do it. but it makes more sense in the context of someone who has reached the end of a long, long wait for some kind of indication, any kind, that her mother wanted to have her. and finally been told, no. she didn't choose melody.

#like. to be clear also: i don't think the fact that amy didn't want kids and really didn't have a choice in giving birth to river #means that she wouldn't love river. i think it would make their relationship Complicated but i do think amy loves her. so much.#that's her daughter but it's also her best friend.#but like. god. to spend your whole childhood hoping you'll hear about some little glimmer of yourself.#a dream. a passing mention. a debate on baby names. anything. and to hear nothing.#and river is. like. she is really really bad at relationships right? we know this.#the person she's closest to is the doctor and she spends most of her life believing *he doesn't even love her*.#we're talking about someone whose base assumption about everyone is that they will try to hurt her at some point so she should always keep #one hand armed.#and her mother. didn't choose to have her. didn't have that choice. that has to fuck her up a little.#(and also serve as proof that river is. so so bad at knowing when she is loved. because maybe amy didn't choose to have her but she named #melody pond after mels her best friend. she has been choosing river every day for the past however many years since mels decided to come #here and be near her mom and dad even if only as kids. but river still can't see it.#and. given the nature of how the ponds disappear from her life. and we never get any closure about them and river.#you have to wonder if she ever did. river song do you know your mother loves you?#having the melody-as-river reveal be so close to the end of the season and then getting rid of amy & rory before they can actually do #anything with the three of them as a messed up little family unit is the show's biggest crime. because i don't know! i don't know if river #knew her parents loved her! i don't know if she *ever* came to terms with how she was born and how they didn't need to choose her then to #choose her now! i don't know if river ever really felt comfortable thinking of them as her parents rather than her friends?#according to the transcripts. river calls amy 'mother' twice. (and 'mummy' once jokingly.) she calls rory 'father' once. and 'dad' in angel #in manhattan. and it just. it drives insane right? it's almost weirdly formal. like the words aren't right but she knows she should say the #and. and. i don't think i'm ever going to get over river song.#i think that's the takeaway here.#ask #doctor who #river song #amy pond #rory williams

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ma12s · 5 years

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Fall For Me

Okay so I may have tried to write a Good Omens fic in an au where Aziraphale gets cast out of heaven after the Apocadidnt. Its from his pov and sort of explores his emotions and his relationship with Crowley throughout so yeah, please enjoy and give me all the feedback and criticism you can throw at me, the ask box is open.

Ao3 link:

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After what would've been Armageddon, but didn't quite get that far, I wish I had the grace of keeping my status as an angel. After all, smoothing things over with Gabriel wouldn't have been too difficult (the execution attempt was quite over the top, anyone could surely agree, but nothing that couldn't be forgiven in the face of eternity) and everything could've gone swimmingly.

Of course, things aren't so nearly as simple when you add Crowley into the mix, that wily serpent, he complicates things in such an outstanding manor that one can't help but step back and admire it, and thwart him for it later, naturally. But, sadly, that couldn't happen. God herself seemed to run thin on benevolence as of now, like famine had slithered into her being and rotted her core, no longer seeing the good in all but the sin, like some sort of damming varnish that could only washed off in a pool of sulphur.

Who knew after all these years, that was to be my fate? Flipped through, page by page, judged, and thrown away never to be read again. Except I fell much further than from the desk to the waste bin. Much further. From the heavens to the depths of the earth.

It should've hurt more, I imagine, had that daft demon not encased me with his own wings, taking the brunt of my punishment. He was always so good, deep down. If only She could see that, he would've never have fallen in the first place. How could such a terrible sinner create such vast starscapes, stretching across the universe like punctuation in poetry.

It took less time that you'd think for all to heal, he couldn't protect me fully, after all, and I had to play with the cards of which I had been dealt. Black didn't suit me like it suited him. It just sorted brought to focus my loss, like a vignette effect framing my very being. It was a great pain, or would have been, if Crowley hadn't called me stunning in the darker hues, made me laugh when my feathers molted, white trickling from them like a river through Eden, seen but not understood.

He held me in the more dire moments, he seemed so sure it would get better that I had started to believe him.

Returning to earth was an interesting one, to walk the familiar streets of Soho a different man, or well, a genderless creation set aside like an old toy. I felt I needed the excuse of the confidence that came along with familiarity to not just choose a different vessel and start new. I liked this face, wizened and charming. Crowley seemed to think so, he thinks the black brings out my eyes, pale blue, as it was.

He finds it amusing that I have no animal form, as he does, perhaps She believed that would be too forgiving. He said I'd find one soon enough, but that's easy enough for him to say, he's been a snake for over 6000 years, though I think he's more of the straw type that hisses hello at you in your garden than that of some mighty python hunting its next prey.

I'd pick eventually.

The bookshop didn't change. Well, it was no longer burnt, and nothing had moved around or scattered off however the atmosphere wasn't quite right, it was akin to walking into a friend's home, familiar but not quite yours, though Crowley and I had christened it rather quickly as the several bottles of wine hadn't felt any different going down than they had before.

I keep mentioning him, don't I? I suppose it's hard not to when he's so ingrained into my being. If I could keep him and attach myself just as closely to him as he to me, I would. I could no longer feel his love but I didn't need to, to know it was there. You could sense it in every time I saw his golden eyes peek at me from behind his dramatic glasses, checking over me as I pulled on a dark waistcoat, jeans, boots.

"Leather matches the wings." he'd say, running his hands on the separate textures just to see my face distort, usually into a smile as his silly ministrations. He knew what they felt like though. Honestly, if he wanted to touch or embrace me he could have just asked, I was still as loving toward him as before the Fall, perhaps more so now.

Being a demon wasn't so terrible when you had him to teach you the not so terrible ways to get humans to sin. I mainly stuck to gluttony and lust, they were sometimes the most innocent. He entertained me to fill the time before I could slowly return to my books. The classics didn't scoff at me or my new parts, they bent and turned as they should and I handled them with care, giving the bin a dirty look.

Sometimes, the shop would become too much to bare and Crowley would take me out to the Ritz, or to his humble abode for me to stay for a time. He'd sometimes go all scaly on me when we slept, wrapping his serpentine body around mine in some semblance of a cuddle. In the mornings I would just kiss whatever expanse of black scale was presented to me and, well, if the man himself appeared next to me who was I to break tradition.

We'd still go to Berkeley Square, feed the ducks (not bread, they needed more nutrients than that) and sit idly on the benches, gaining stares and smiles alike. I felt I was becoming more comfortable with myself, accepting the angel Aziraphale was gone. I didn't fancy changing my name though, somethings do and must stick after so long and that was one of them, along with the tartan, of course. I couldn't give that up for the world. As long as I kept to my new colours Crowley couldn't say a word, not that he needed to.

As of late, unsaid words hung between is in the air comfortably, like unspoken conversations expressed with the eyes, a quirk of the brow or knowing smile. If only Agnes could have predicted this, it might have given me some warning. Though, looking around and seeing him, glasses off, smiling and our hands interlaced lazily, I suppose nothing could be helped and, as ineffable as it may be, I knew in that moment that all was meant to be. Damn Her and any such plans. If I had Crowley, it wouldn't matter whether I was in black or white, the shades of my tartan. All I'd ask for would be his eternity, in exchange for my own, of course.

He was ever so happy to oblige, and the ring suited him so nicely. So I might have fallen from heaven, and it may have shaped me into something I had never considered I could have been, but in all effect, I also had fallen for Crowley, and one sin after a magnitude was but a fleck of sand in a desert, a blade of grass in a garden, an apple on a tree. That surely shaped me for the better.

He kissed me and I knew then. The future would be brighter than any white and warmer than any black on a summer's day. In loving him, I realised I had really fallen long ago, it was just official now. I couldn't say that I'd change a thing. 6000 years for 6000 more, though this time, I'd spend every second of it together.

-fin

#good omens #fic #fanfiction #fanfic #aziraphale #crowley #ineffable husbands #demon aziraphale #he falls #poor guy #hes so #refelective #tho its sweet #mlm #like the gay is heavily suggested #and outright said #actually #but yes #very gay

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