#and the way that grief tends to mix with guilt especially hurts me

[grymmdark]

the way that vash, especially in trimax, is a character whose so defined by his grief really fucks me up

[whatifxwereyou]

Ashes Chapter 10: Grief

Pairing: Liu Kang x Reader

You take a crack at grieving together. Now this definitely feels like progress. There's much more going on here than meets the eye.

A/N: Hope you're all having a lovely Sunday <3 thank you for reading, i really appreciate you! This is a long, long chapter but I couldn't find a place to break it up.

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Against your better instincts you followed Liu Kang to the first floor of the hotel and into the bar attached to it. The lights were dim inside, a tactic to keep patrons inside longer by losing track of time. The more time they lingered the more money they would spend. You’d gone to a casino with Kung Lao a few times and had completely lost track of time. You and Liu sat at a table near the entrance to the lobby. You watched people as they walked through the lobby while Liu ordered something to eat.

Things were awkward.

You weren’t sure what to say and Liu didn’t seem to, either. It was just him eating while you watched the world pass by in the lobby. You imagined what their lives had to be like, what kind of adventures they were returning from, the sorts of nights they were having. There were happy couples and less than happy couples, tired families, and drunk stragglers.

Then, much to your surprise, Liu filled the silence. That wasn’t something he had often done. You had once been comfortable with silence alongside each other. That was no longer the case. He told you stories about when he’d first gone to the academy, about adventures he’d gone on with Kung Lao. They’d been troublemakers but you’d always known that. Kung Lao had told you some of these same stories but his perspective had been very different. It was comical to hear Liu’s point of view and it had broken the awkwardness.

In fact, the awkwardness was completely forgotten. You laughed when it was appropriate and Liu pushed his empty plate aside. You were grateful that he had broken the ice. Hearing him talk more like his old self made things much easier.

Then you told him stories about trips you’d gone on with Kung Lao. Liu was a rapt and generous audience, commenting in all the right places, laughing when it was expected. Even if he’d already heard the stories from Kung Lao, he acted as though they were new and exciting to him, just as you had done for him.

These had been stories you’d wanted to tell him for years but had been too afraid to be that close to him again. You tended to get closer when you spoke, like two kids sharing intimate secrets. That was often how you’d wound up in each other’s arms when you’d first been sleeping together. Sharing stories had gotten them close and then one thing led to another.

You hadn’t gotten this close since then until now.

And yes, even now, you found yourself getting closer to him as you talked. You were both leaned on the table close to each other. You had your hand on the side of your neck and realized that your body language was a little flirtatious without having meant to. The waiter took the empty plate and asked if you needed anything else. Out of politeness you ordered drinks just for show.

The drinks looked tasty. You wanted to drink it but knew it was a terrible idea. You were with Liu which made it a far worse idea than it would have been otherwise. Especially with everything going on over the last week. It was late too, another strike against you. According to your phone it was past midnight already.

Conversation faded as you sat close together and the mood fell into sadness. You were both thinking the same thing. After talking about Kung Lao for hours how could you not be? Thinking about anything other than how much you missed him and how sad you were would have been unnatural.

“I know that it’s selfish,” you began while fiddling with the edges of the soaked napkin beneath your glass, “but sometimes I wonder if he thought about me in those last moments.” Liu’s gaze turned up from your hand but you avoided his eyes. His eyes were dark and sad, as if he didn’t want you thinking those things. “I hope that he didn’t. I hope…” You drifted off with a sigh. “I honestly don’t know what I hope anymore. I’m so mixed up.”

“Of course he thought about you, Y/N.” He placed his hand over yours to stop you from playing with the napkin. “I know that because I thought about you then. So, of course Lao did.” You furrowed your brow. Why would Liu think of you? He’d lost his brother. All he had to have been thinking about was his grief and what he could do to help. “He loved you.” You inhaled sharply. “And no matter how much we’ve been fighting, Y/N, it kills me to see you heartbroken.” You rolled your eyes and he grasped your hand a bit tighter. “No, really. This has been hard for me. Okay?”

“Okay.” You looked to him so skeptically that he laughed. You knew that it was hard for him but you weren’t sure that the cruel things that he’d said the last few days had anything to do with his difficulty dealing with it.

“I know that I’ve broken something here. I don’t… I don’t know how to fix it.”

You averted your eyes and looked to the drink so close to your hand. Liu followed your gaze and furrowed his brow.

“That won’t fix it either, Y/N.”

“Yeah, that definitely made it worse.” You looked away from the drink.

“I don’t know. At least we’re talking now. We weren’t before that. We were avoiding each other.”

“Maybe you were avoiding me. I wasn’t avoiding you.”

“Sure you weren’t.” Liu pulled his hands away from yours and you did too. You’d been holding them for too long without realizing and it seemed you’d both realized it at the same time.

“You have no idea what was going on in my head, Liu.” You tapped your finger on the table as if to tell him, again, that he couldn’t assume what you were thinking.

“Because you were avoiding me so how could I?”

“Like you weren’t avoiding me or something!” You threw the accusation right back at him and much to your surprise, he shrugged.

“I was absolutely avoiding you. I felt guilty. I feel guilty.” He fixed the tense with a roll of his eyes, lips perking up into a smile for only a second.

“I wasn’t avoiding you, Liu.” You folded your arms on the table. “I was avoiding everyone. It didn’t have anything to do with you.” You hated that you could feel his eyes on you, that he had such an intense stare. You could feel the path of his gaze as he looked you over. “I was sad. And tired. Tired of everyone looking at me with pity. It was… look, I know it was bad. I was isolating myself. I wasn’t avoiding anyone in particular, Liu. Sure, it hurt to see you but only because I was sad for you. It wasn’t… like that though.” You felt like you’d said too much and also not enough at the same time. This wasn’t an easy conversation to have.

“I hadn’t considered that.” His voice had softened and he gently placed his hand on your forearm. His hand was warm and comforting, thumb gently brushing against your skin.

“Yeah. That’s what I keep trying to tell you but you won’t listen. Don’t make assumptions, Liu. It hurts me to see you like this, of course, but it wasn’t the reason I didn’t want to see you.” You laughed a little in disbelief. “You’re the only one who could have possibly understood my grief and yet… I didn’t want to diminish yours. Then I finally get the chance and the courage to talk to you and I was… so incredibly wasted that I don’t remember much of it at all. I barely remember you joining me for a drink.” You leaned back in your chair in frustration, folding your arms beneath your chest nervously.

“…you didn’t seem wasted.” He pushed his hair back and then leaned his arm over the back of his chair, turning to face you. He seemed frustrated and you couldn’t rightly blame him for it. You wondered if he had thought that you weren’t drunk, that you would remember what you’d done. Had he thought you’d been crawling into bed together to find solace in each other’s arms? Then you’d run off in a panic. Oh no, you felt like an asshole. Your heart was suddenly racing. You had told him not to assume what you’d been thinking and there you’d been assuming what he’d been thinking. Damn.

You’d made so many mistakes in the last few weeks that it was laughable. You were a tornado, uprooting everything in your path. Damnit, Kung Lao. You closed your eyes and then pinched the bridge of your nose. There was that damn guilt again. It would never end. You were just so sorry for everything. You couldn’t fix anything.

“What are you thinking?”

“That I wish our last conversation hadn’t been a promise to figure things out.” You huffed. That had been the very first sign of the funnel clouds that had started this. That was where you’d started doing damage. “That I had just told him I’d loved him and we would figure it out. Everything would work out. Instead, we fought and it was all left hanging before I had to leave. We barely even said goodbye. I figured that we’d fight about it when I got home and then makeup the way that we always did.” You couldn’t have known. You knew that. It still hurt though. Liu seemed to understand. You were glad that he didn’t belittle you by telling you not to feel the way you felt. You were tired of being told that.

“It’s not like you could have known but… I get it. I didn’t get to say goodbye either. There’s no way to know, Y/N. If we had known then we wouldn’t have let it happen.” Liu looked as though this thought had weighed heavily on him, too. “We would have stopped it.” He leaned against the table again. “I couldn’t stop it.” You placed your hand comfortingly on his shoulder and he stared at his hands. “It replays in my head sometimes.”

“I can’t imagine having that in my head.”

“I’m glad that you don’t, Y/N.” He closed his eyes and you gave his shoulder a comforting squeeze before turning back to the table and admiring the drink once again. It probably didn’t even taste good anymore. Watered down with the ice all melted. Probably wouldn’t even give you a buzz. You’d kill to be drunk instead of feeling as miserable as you were. Much to your surprise, Liu laughed, hands folded neatly beneath his chin.

“What?”

“Kung Lao didn’t tell me that he was planning on proposing.” He laughed again as though this were very funny but you didn’t think it was funny. In fact, you thought it was weird.

“Really?” It was hard to believe. Kung Lao wasn’t exactly good at keeping his excitement to himself and you were sure that he’d had to talk to someone about it or at least get consultation on the kind of ring and the size and all that. It had been a beautiful ring. You didn’t know what had become of it. It wasn’t an expensive looking ring, quite the contrary, but it had been very Kung Lao. That was all that you’d needed. You weren’t the type to care much about jewelry. You barely wore any to begin with. “You did seem pretty surprised when I told you. I thought the two of you talked about everything.”

“We didn’t talk about you. Not like that at least.”

“I’m… well, I guess that’s unexpected? That’s what I mean to say.”

“I think that Kung Lao was afraid of what I would say if we talked too much about you. Either that or he just knew that I was still… the way that I am.” He folded his hands together on the table as if unsure what to do with them. “Kung Lao understood that this… this was complicated.” He gestured to you with just his index finger without turning toward you.

“Oh.” Your stomach sunk into that pit again. You let your fingers nervously play with the napkin again. Had he really been thinking about it all this time? Had he been feeling like this throughout your entire relationship with Kung Lao? Just watching from the sidelines while his best friend got to experience love and happiness while he’d sacrificed any chance with you that he’d had? You had never given yourself that much importance to either one of them but there he was, fixating on something that had happened years ago. It wasn’t so farfetched now that you thought about it. You hadn’t exactly gotten over him either. You thought that you had but this week had proven how untrue that was. You were still heartbroken after all these years.

He grasped your hand and you returned the gentle squeeze he gave it. You expected him to get go but instead he held onto it like he would lose you if he didn’t.

“I wish that he and I had talked about it. That we hadn’t avoided it.” He sighed and you smiled. At least you weren’t the only one who talked that way.

“Do you often dwell on the things you didn’t do, too?” You smiled and he nodded but seemed to think that was obvious. It was but it also felt nice to hear it from someone else. You wondered if that was partially what all your fighting had stemmed from. Maybe Liu Kang was dwelling on his regrets and trying to change some of them. He was doing a piss poor job, you thought. “I think about that kind of thing all the time.” You pulled your hand back from his when he made no move to let go. You leaned back. “I think Kung Lao would have loved it here in Hollywood. I used to make martial artists from his favorite movies out of ink for him to fight all the time. He loved that.”

“I remember.” Liu Kang smiled fondly but he was lost thinking about other things.

“When I went sightseeing earlier, I took pictures of things that I thought he’d want to see. It was… it felt nice.” Liu scooted his chair closer to yours, knee gently pressing against yours.

“Can I see them?”

You pulled the phone out of your pocket and showed him the photos from your day out. Major landmarks you’d visited, random pictures of passersby, movie posters, stars on the Walk of Fame. You scrolled through them, explaining them and why you’d taken them. Then you stopped on the last photo that you’d taken on the beach the day before. You kept that picture on the screen for a time. You could feel the sadness radiating from it. Then it felt like a great weight was set on your shoulders. You were grateful for the pictures of Liu. Even if they weren’t the happiest memories, they were important.

“You’re right, Y/N. He would have liked that.” Liu seemed just as weighed down but he still smiled fondly at you. “That was really sweet of you.” You set the phone down.

“Maybe that’s something I can keep doing. Then maybe it won’t feel like such a… weight. I could honor his memory by doing things that I know he would enjoy rather than being so… sad all the time.” You watched the screen go dim on the phone. “And I am. I’m sad. But maybe I won’t always be. And I know…” You held up your hand to quiet him before he could object because you had heard every mental health mantra in the book by that point. “I know that it’s okay to feel the way that I’m feeling but I also can’t help but think that he wouldn’t want me to be this sad. Even when we were fighting, he tried to make me laugh.” You smiled at the memory.

“Yeah, he’d be furious with me if he saw how upset I’ve made you the past few days.” Liu smirked.

“Yeah. Probably would have smacked you right in the back of the head.”

“Oh, probably way worse than that. If he knew I’d made you cry? Oof…” He laughed at himself. “And I would deserve it but at the same time… we… let so much go for so long. I never felt good about it.” He moistened his lips nervously and you tried not to stare at them. You really did, but it was impossible. “I was never good at being dishonest, Y/N.”

You looked down at your hands and then back at your drink. It would be so much easier to have just gotten drunk and then forgotten this night too. Talking was exhausting. You wanted the courage that liquor brought. You could tell him that he deserved happiness just as much as Kung Lao had. And that you would happily suffer for the rest of your days so that he could have peace and joy.

“If he could see us now.” Your voice felt small and frail.

“He’d smack us both upside the head.”

“And we would deserve it.” You watched the condensation drip on the side of your glass.

“We need to talk.” His voice was somber.

“It does seem to keep coming back to that, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah. I think you’re right about it though.”

“How so?” You’d said so many things the last few days, you couldn’t remember that specific thing.

“It’s going to be a fight.”

“Well…” You began but then drifted off and laughed, deciding not to say the first thing that came to mind. You had said that earlier, hadn’t you?

“What?”

“I almost started a fight just now.” You turned toward him and he cocked his head curiously.

“Oh? Do tell.”

“No… no, I don’t think that I will.” You brushed your thumb nervously over your other hand. “Because we willfight and we’re in public, Liu. It’s one thing when we’re in the middle of the woods to scream at each other but… another here.” You gestured to the other busy tables surrounding you. The bar was still bustling with people despite the late hour.

“Try me.”

“Umm…” You said in a higher tone and he laughed. “Your temper has been pretty off the wall the last few days. And I have a tremendous amount of self-loathing right now but not enough to actually start a fight in the middle of a busy bar.”

“Well, what if I said that I was feeling pretty in control right now?” Liu Kang offered. Wow, he really wanted you to start that fight. You couldn’t decide if that was impressive or not.

“Okay. I was going to say considering that you… broke my heart with a lie all those years ago and then bottled all that up so you could watch Kung Lao find happiness at the expense of your own that it was… most definitely going to be a fight.” You watched his expression shift and it was almost comical. His lips flattened into a straight line. He leaned back in his chair, arm rested on the back of your chair, fingers tapping against it.

“Yeah. Mmhmm.”

“Still feeling in control?” You winced.

He inhaled sharply and rotated his neck and looked as though it were taking all of his self-control not to say anything.

“See? I told you that I almost started a fight. I tried to give you an out, Liu.”

“Yep.” The emphasis he had on the word was comical. It was clear that he had some thoughts on what you’d said and that it was taking every ounce of his willpower not to act on them.

“You’re mad, huh?”

He nodded. You laughed, resting your elbow on the table and resting your head in your palm.

“It’s not funny.”

“It’s a little funny.” You batted your eyelashes at him but then looked away. “I’m sorry.”

“No you aren’t.”

“Okay, I’m not. It felt a little nice to give you a taste of your own medicine.” Your smile was forced and fell quickly. “This has been… painful.”

Liu nodded and then leaned next to you against the table. “I wish I could go back. I can’t. I know I can’t. I still keep thinking about it.”

“Do you though, Liu?” You scoffed. He’d made that clear. These ‘what if’ scenarios had become exhausting.

“What would you have done? If I had asked you to stay with me, what would you have done?”

“I don’t know the answer to that, Liu, because that isn’t what happened.”

“But if…”

“I said that I don’t know.” You took his hand and held it on the table with both of yours. “I don’t know, Liu.” When he went to object again, you looked to him seriously. “Stop.”

“I keep kicking myself.”

“Stop, Liu.”

“You don’t get to tell me how to feel just like I don’t get to tell you how to feel.”

“I’m not trying to, Liu. All we have is the here and now. The past is the past. I keep telling myself that too. It’s hard, but it’s been done.” You held his hand comfortingly. “It doesn’t matter that you lied then.”

“Y/N, I…”

“It doesn’t matter that what you said was a lie because it was what I believed to be true.”

“How could you have possibly believed that was all you meant to me?” His frustration radiated off of him. You let go of his hand and turned away. “It was months, Y/N.” Apparently, the past wasn’t the past to Liu Kang. “Months. Not just a handful of nights where we were desperate and lonely. Months and we…”

“Liu, we came here to mourn.” You stiffened up.

“We need to talk.”

“Not in public we don’t. Not now.”

“Then when, Y/N?” His voice rose a little and you snapped your gaze to him but said nothing. “You waited to talk to Kung Lao and…”

“That’s not fair.”

He turned his gaze away from yours and you held your head in your hands, pushing your hair out of your face in frustration. You were so tired of this. Tired of the guilt and frustration. It was killing you.

“We were supposed to be grieving together. Not fighting. That was the deal, remember?”

“Yeah, well I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“You have no idea how badly I want to take both of these drinks, slam them down, and go pass out somewhere instead of having this conversation with you,” you grumbled.

“So, do you just drink all your problems away now?”

“No, but I wish I could drink this away. Would be nice.”

“Is that why I couldn’t tell that you were so wasted that night? Why I didn’t realize you wouldn’t remember if we…”

���Stop, Liu.” You snapped at him and then grabbed his hand again to plead with him. “Stop. Seriously. What are we doing?” He didn’t seem to understand. “We had a nice night for the first time in so long and now we’re picking fights with each other. Why? To feel something? I… Liu, I’m so tired. I can’t do this with you tonight.” He shifted uncomfortably so you let go of his hand.

“Yeah. I guess it’s easier to fight than it is to actually deal with any of it.”

“Is it though?” You joked in that playful high-pitched tone. He chuckled but his smile fell quickly.

“I’m worried about you.”

“I’m worried about you.”

“I’m okay.” He assured you.

“Are you though?” There was that sarcasm again.

“Are you?”

“Oh, absolutely not.” You hoped that your sarcasm would help cut the tension a little and he laughed, so there was that. You were quiet but not for long. You were afraid of what he’d say to fill the silence so you filled it. “I was thinking that maybe we could… do something nice together at some point for him. Make a list that would honor his memory and then go through it.” You tried to bring the conversation back around. Liu stared at you in surprise. “Obviously, you don’t have to be part of it if you don’t want to be but I thought it would be nice for us to have something to do together that wasn’t so… destructive.” All they really had right now was grief, sex, and fighting.

Liu placed his hand over both of yours and then tilted you to him with his other hand. His thumb brushed over your chin, sending a shiver down your spine. Then he tilted you upwards and much to your surprise, his lips pressed against yours. Your heart shot into your throat and you made to pull your hands back but he grasped them gently. His lips were soft and sweet and while you hesitated, Liu didn’t. You forgot where you were and why you were talking. You forgot that you were supposed to be grieving. It felt to you like it was taking all of his energy not to push the kiss further. His hand cupped your cheek, practically taking up the entire side of your face. It was a nostalgic and terrifying feeling.

You hesitated only for that first second but it was second nature to want to return that kiss. God, it felt nice to be kissed and even nicer that it was Liu. His touch had always been like his arcana, fiery. His lips were a fond but heartbreaking memory. It made your chest ache in both the best and worst way. You shivered all over. His hand tangled in your hair, pushing it away from your face and holding you in the soft, slow, and intimate kiss.

There was no liquor involved this time. No excuse that could be made on behalf of either of them. Liu Kang had kissed you and you had kissed him back. His lips pulled back from yours, but lingered close, close enough that if either of you spoke then you’d be touching again. His breath was hot against your lips, slow and measured and you were afraid to open your eyes, afraid of what he’d say after that.

A few blissful seconds had gone by where you’d forgotten about everything in between your days together and now. His lips weren’t a memory anymore, they were right there, begging to be kissed.

Finally, you opened your eyes when Liu didn’t move or talk. You didn’t look into his eyes, afraid of what you’d find. You looked at his lips, so close, slightly parted. Then your eyes darted to where his hand still rested over yours on the table. You pulled your hand closed into a fist beneath his palm and he gave it a soft squeeze.

It didn’t matter what the guilt was doing and oh boy, there was guilt. Because beyond that, stronger than that, was a deep and desperate longing that you’d bottled up and clung to for years. You had a draw, a connection that was impossible to fight. It seemed increasingly likely that the only reason that connection had thinned was because Liu had lied and retreated.

Your heart was hammering in your chest and you could feel Liu’s eyes on you, his hand still tangled in your hair. You dared to look back up at him against every instinct in your body that told you to pull back and put your foot down.

If he kissed you again then you wouldn’t stop him. You were weak. You knew if you didn’t stop him then one thing would lead to another and you would wind up together and this time there would be no alcohol to blame it on. As much as you had mentally joked about wanting to remember the fun you’d had with him, you knew the guilt would be devastating.

He was thinking it too. Every so often, Liu wore his heart on his sleeve and this was one of those moments. He wanted to kiss you again. He wanted to so badly but he knew what would happen if he did.

Then the bartender was announcing that the establishment would be closing in five minutes. They were to pay their bills and be on their way. Other patrons began to gather their things and get ready to leave.

Liu let you go and you pulled back almost simultaneously. You ran your fingers through your hair to shake it out and then took the bill that the waiter left on your table and shoved some cash at it. You hoped your math had been done well enough. Your brain was just in no mood for numbers. Liu double checked and you would have usually been annoyed but right now you were grateful. He handed you back an extra bill that you’d shoved in there and you would have laughed had your heart not been beating a mile a minute and your hands hadn’t been shaking.

Somehow it was two in the morning. You’d stayed there the whole night. If you hadn’t ended up kissing then you would have been proud of yourselves for having made it through the whole night and several difficult conversations without screaming at each other.

If it wasn’t one then it was the other.

You gathered your jacket and slipped it on your shoulders before walking with Liu into the lobby. You took their time, letting other patrons make their way to the elevators first. He kept looking at you and you kept searching for a way to end the night that didn’t lead with more bad decisions. But he hadn’t said anything either. You needed to say something to either end the night or decide where to go next. If either one of you said something, it was likely that that you would end up arguing. If you could just not mention the kiss it might be fine.

Because if you fought, you’d probably end up kissing him. One led to the other and the other caused the other. It was a vicious cycle.

“Would it be okay to walk you to your room?” He broke the silence, something quite brave all things considered. You considered making him say goodnight before they got in the elevator but then you’d have to take the stairs to avoid him and that would be silly. Besides, what was the harm in it? He’d walk you to your room and you’d be free after those few more awkward moments.

“Sure.” You were surprised you didn’t sound haughty thanks to your nerves. It wasn’t that you were mad at him. You were mad at yourself. Mad that you let him kiss you, mad that you’d returned the kiss, mad that you’d wanted to keep kissing him. Worst of all, you were mad that it had felt so damn good.

The elevator was awkward and silent. Liu leaned against the back wall, arms folded over his chest, eyes on the floor. You slammed the button for your floor about twelve times more than necessary and then stayed close to the grid of buttons. Just a few more minutes and the night would be over.

You were coaching yourself not to let him into your room. Why had you even considered it? You didn’t think that he would ask to come in. If he were smart then he definitely wouldn’t try to push his luck. Then again, Liu Kang had become a very different animal over the last week. He was more impulsive than you were used to him being.

The problem was that if you let him into your room then you would absolutely end up sleeping with him because you wanted to which was one of the most frustrating thoughts you’d ever had.

The doors to the elevator opened and so you led them down the hall toward your room. His was only a few doors down. You had purposely not gotten rooms next to each other but it was still close enough that it wouldn’t be too terribly out of his way. You leaned against the door to your room, holding your keycard against your phone behind your back.

You wouldn’t let him in.

You couldn’t.

“Thanks for spending the evening with me.” Liu looked to the door behind you and then back over you. “And for forgiving me.” The moment was less awkward and Liu didn’t seem like he was going to push you. You were thankful. You could still taste his lips on yours and you’d have that memory for the rest of the night.

“Oh?” You chuckled. “Did I forgive you?”

“Uh…” Liu looked suddenly nervous, his soft smile fading. “I guess that you didn’t.”

“Liu…” You began with a sigh, nervous to start a fight. But you had to talk about these things eventually. “I’m still mad about a lot of the things you’ve said the last few days.”

“And we still have to talk about that.”

“Yeah, look, I understand that you’re sorry but you have also made it clear that you meant much of what you said in the last week so it’s not as simple a thing as forgiving you.”

“Yeah.” He took a step closer and took your free hand. “I understand that. I’m still grateful that you didn’t tell me to shove it the way that you had every right to.” He brought your hand to his lips and placed a kiss on the back of your knuckles. You rolled your eyes so hard that he laughed.

“I know you far too well to think that you’re charming, Liu. Especially after the last few days. Nice try though.” You pulled your hand back from him and he shrugged but he had a grin on his face. That night he’d implied that he thought you’d sought too much solace in drink. That was far from charming. You’d said plenty of unpleasant things to him too. You were on evening footing with lack of charm.

“I am charming, Y/N.”

“Go to bed, you giant dork.” You weren’t opening that door until he’d walked away. You didn’t trust yourself. It would be so easy to invite him inside and take out some of that pent up frustration. You knew he was thinking it too. The way that he lingered, the way that his eyes darted down to your hand where you held your key and back to your eyes. Inviting him in would definitely take care of some of that frustration you both felt at least until tomorrow. Then you’d be even more frustrated. “Goodnight, Liu.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

You watched him walk away and then retreated into your room.

Next Chapter >>

[mmmonie]

This is kind of a mix of my first post and my second post? But with a focus on the brothers. I’m linking them just so there’s less confusion LOL this probably won’t make sense unless you’ve read the other posts (I’m so sorry sjnwsjsj) hcs under the read more hellll yeaaaa

* Because Satan is the only natural demon of his family, he did go through a (kind of) juvenile phase and it was absolute madness. 

* Literally no one (save probably Barbatos) knew this was going to happen. 

* U know that comic that’s like “master what’s happening to me!!!” And the master’s like “I don’t know....that’s scary.....” uhm Satan and his brothers at the start of this LOL

* I’m gonna say that Satan was fully formed when he was born (though tbh I could go either way baby Satan is SUCH a good concept) So he was having a moment more akin to a human born. His juvenile phase was even more delayed because for a while there he really was just Wrath incarcerate. (I could go into more depth about how/why he forced himself out of that but LOL no not right now.) 

* So for literally everyone in the house this was completely out of left field. Satan already had demonic forms and his powers so no one expected the sudden influx of instincts he would get. 

* Since the first part of a juvenile phase is the instinct to play, Satan was (poorly) trying to get his brothers in on it. At this point he still wasn’t good at expressing even basic needs and wants so this was. Very confusing to say the least LOL. 

* The first one to realize he wasn’t attacking (with the purpose to kill LOL) was Mammon. He was the first to research and actively play fight with him (and getting Beel to join in) sometimes if Satan is feeling particularly rambunctious, he’ll still ask Mammon or Beel to play fight in the garden.

* It’s a rarity now though. Satan doesn’t like giving into his baser instincts and hates that he seems to be the only one who has those inclinations. However, everyone in the family has the same problem, some just have a better facade (Lucifer & Asmo) and others are just too lazy or anxious (Levi & Belphie) 

* Beel and Mammon in particular are susceptible to those feelings that’s (partly) why Beel started working out and why Mammon is as restless as he is. Beel and Mammon will regularly tussle and both see it as bonding. 

* Satan did go through a sleepy second half, though this was probably a combination of instincts and the effort he was putting into calming down rather than what happens in a normal juvenile phase. There are a lot of pictures from this time LOL he hates it. Like stop showing mc that time i dragged everyone into my nest and wouldn’t let them leave fuck you 

* This was kind of a soothing balm on the loss everyone experienced. Of course it wasn’t enough to take the pain away, but your newborn brother being extra cute is a nice momentary reprieve from your daily guilt and grief right? It’s also helpful that he purred so much LOL 

* Speaking of purring...

* You will often hear Levi purr, not because he’s happy but as a self soothing mechanism. He will purr A LOT if he thinks he fucked up that day. He will also purr if he’s stressed in public. (please don’t bring it up it embarrasses him.) His happy purr is very quiet, but you can hear it when he’s talking excitedly about something (Or if you say you want to hang out with him lol) 

* Belphie doesn’t consciously purr that often but he does purr in his sleep. If you get Beel (or MC) to lay next to him it increases tenfold. Don’t tell him...but if his other siblings lay next to him too, his purring increases.........just a bit.........(a lot) he will also purr to act cute and get his way with his siblings. (SPOILED BRAT LOL) it works 99.9% of the time. 

* In contrast, Beel is probably the most liberal with his purrs. He’ll purr for just about anything. The weathers nice? He’s purring. His brothers are getting along today? He’s purring. He’s thinking about his favorite snack? You get the picture. Also it’s loud as fuck because he’s a big boy. “Woah, was that a motorcycle?” “No it’s just Beel thinking about his next meal.” 

* Beel also purrs in his sleep. However, he purrs more when he’s having nightmares because he’s trying to soothe them away. (Haha...........sorry that hurt me too) 

* Asmo tends to talk through his purring which is so very cute (and he knows it) it’s almost like talking through a laugh, it can make just about anyone smile because it’s infectious. (He learned this from Mammon as a tactic to get what he wants.) There is a difference between his actual happy purr and when he’s just putting on a show. You’ll also hear him self soothe on a self care day. Not because he’s unhappy but because he read its good for you. 

* Lucifer, of course, doesn’t purr very often, but when he does he’s just about as loud as Beel. Something about bottling it up just makes it come out as loud as possible I suppose... He really has to suppress it when he sees things like his brothers sleeping in a pile after a movie night. He has to leave the room to go purr in his office or whatever. Loser. Just tell your family you love them. 🙄 Much like Levi, he’ll also purr at his desk when he’s stressed, though he’ll only do it when he’s absolutely sure he’s alone. 

* Satan used to purr A LOT. Especially around his siblings and ESPECIALLY in his juvenile phase. it was the one thing that stopped them all from going crazy. Satan would be a nuisance all day long and then at the end of the day he’d curl up near his siblings and unconsciously purr his little heart out. Everyone would immediately forgive him for whatever he did that day just because it was SO fucking cute. And when he hit the sleepy part of his phase? It was over for EVERYONE. Suddenly all that fighting was worth it, especially when Satan would drag them over to the little nest he made to nap and purr because of the safety his siblings provided him <3 I fucking WEEP

* Needless to say he doesn’t do that much anymore. What, do you think he actually loves his siblings or something? Tch. 

* Mammon is the second one you’ll hear purr the most. Though he does do it to be charming, he will naturally purr through talking or laughing. He learned he can easily get his way with that with weaker willed demons early on and he’s not above using it to his advantage. Like Levi, if you can hear it if he’s especially excited about something. Though you can barely make out his words through his purr. 

* Surprisingly (besides Beel & Belphie) Lucifer is probably the least touched starved, just because Diavolo is so naturally touchy. He doesn’t even realize he’s doing it half the time. I imagine it annoyed Lucifer at first but he’s grown to appreciate it. I don’t think I need to say who the most touch starved is. (*coughs and points at Levi’s room*) 

* The two who are most acclimated to the way demons use causal touch are Asmo and Mammon. Asmo’s a little obvious as to why, but Mammon learned so he could swindle people out of their money lol can’t come off unfriendly to your new buddy now, can you? 

* Satan is naturally touchy, but he’s learned to curb those instincts because of his previously angelic siblings and their aversion to touch. he still tries to (subconsciously) touch his siblings though like sitting thigh to thigh with Asmo on the couch, or letting Mammon ruffle his hair.

[anne-chloe]

Always

Through her many losses over the years, Wanda is learning to accept her grief.

Wanda/F!Reader (Platonic)

Mentions of violence, blood and death // fluff, angst, platonic love between wanda and the reader

“Where’s Steve?”

Tony glanced up from his project, loose scraps of metal and trinket devices scattered around him, presenting him in a light that reminded you briefly of a compulsive hoarder. He blinked slowly before shrugging his shoulders in a disinterested manner.

“No clue, kid, sorry,” Tony answered in short, waving you off before returning back to his intense thoughts. His skilful fingers worked away at the technical objects, a skill that you often admired. Where Tony found comfort in fixing and creating, you were quite the opposite; you tend to break everything you touch, accidentally, of course.

You stepped out of his lab and wandered back into the main room of the compound, scratching the back of your neck in an obvious frustration. The super soldier had seemingly vanished since breakfast that morning, and to say you were concerned was an understatement.

Eventually, you found yourself pausing in the kitchen, where you spotted Wanda speaking quietly with Vision. The two stopped and glanced over as you began to approach, their conversation fading out as you greeted them with a smile.

“Did you find him?” Vision inquired, now turning half his attention to the diced onion scattered on the chopping board. He wordlessly scraped the vegetable into a frying pan, filling the room with a satisfying sizzle.

You shook your head. “Nope, the old guy seems to have disappeared,” you half heartedly joked, taking a seat at the breakfast counter opposite the duo. “But it can wait, I guess, it’s not overly important.”

Wanda moved around the counter and wrapped her arm around your shoulder, pulling you close into a hug. “Your family history is definitely interesting,” Wanda mused, her fingers tangling themselves into your hair, twirling and playing. You leaned into her touch, enjoying the comfort she brought.

Vision started to add chopped mushrooms, bell peppers, crushed garlic and tomatoes to the pan, all filling the air with a delightful smell. “It is highly possible that your grandfather served in the war alongside Mr. Rogers. Have you discovered any possible information that could link them?”

You sighed, beginning to feel doubtful. “No, but I’m aware Steve served in the same regiment that my grandfather did…”

“Might I ask why you want to know? Is it curiosity or desire for knowledge?”

You watched as Vision added some spices to the mix of whatever he was cooking. “I never knew much about my family growing up, but I recently found out that my grandfather passed away. I guess it would be nice to have a connection to something, especially since I was named on his will to inherit his farmhouse.”

“I see,” Vision hummed. He gestured for Wanda to taste his concoction by holding out a spoon; Wanda beamed and gave a supportive thumbs up, pleased with how the dish was turning out.

Tilting your head to the side, you fell quiet as you witnessed the genuine peace settling across her face. For the first time in a long time she was comfortable, and that very realisation made a loving warmth spread throughout your chest.

Later that night, while curled up in bed, you lay silent, staring thoughtfully at the ceiling. Everything was quiet, a comfortable quiet that allowed you to recollect yourself. And while you admired the patterns above your bed, you became aware of a person loitering outside your door.

Sitting up, you blinked slowly before flicking your wrist, opening the door with a small ‘click’. Light gushed in to your bedroom, spotlighting you as you squinted to see who it was.

A guilty smile crept up onto Wanda’s face before she entered your room, sheepishly shuffling across the floor in her fluffy slippers. You pulled the duvet back and welcomed her into your bed, wrapping your arms around her before snuggling underneath the covers.

“Your senses are getting better,” Wanda praised with a pleased gleam in her eyes. You chuckled softly, listening to the sound of the door closing again at your incredible willpower.

“Honestly, I had no idea it was you outside,” you admitted quietly.

Wanda’s finger tapped your nose. “And what if I had been a murderer?” She teased.

“A murderer in this building? Impossible,” you retaliated, setting off a shared bubble of giggles.

A comfortable silence fell over the two of you, and after a minute or so you closed your eyes, welcoming the safe feeling that Wanda offered while with you. The combined warmth of your bodies offered a peaceful opportunity to sleep, and with the past few busy months that had occurred, yourself and Wanda deserved it.

“We should run away together,” you murmured sleepily. Opening your eyes, you locked gazes with Wanda, waiting patiently for her response.

Through the darkness, you could see her smile. “Where would we go?”

“There’s this nice little farmhouse waiting for me in the countryside…”

You felt Wanda shift slightly. “We could have rocking chairs on the porch,” you added gently, your ears now burning red at the exciting idea. “And maybe a chicken coop.”

“We could have a dog and a cat,” Wanda interjected thoughtfully; you felt your heart skip a beat as she hopped onto your idea. “If there’s a stream near by, or a lake, imagine the picnics we could have during the summer season; or the comfort of sitting in front of the fireplace throughout the winter.”

“It’d be so cute having Bertie and Bobby curled up together in front of the fire,” you beamed.

“Bertie and Bobby?”

“Yeah, the dog and the cat.”

Piling cute ideas on top, one after the other, creating mundane scenarios with one another as the night began to creep onwards; you became aware of how much you loved being in Wanda’s presence. She truly was your best friend, your confidant. If anyone could understand you, it was her.

Like you, Wanda had suffered considerably growing up. Having lost her parents, to voluntarily being experimented on with the mind stone, to then losing her brother during the battle in Sokovia. Wanda was pretty much a mirror of yourself, battling through the worlds worst grievances.

To experience a normal life would mean the absolute world to the both of you, having no other choice but to grow up so fast in a world so cruel.

“_____?” Wanda whispered after your hushed giggled died down.

You hummed, feeling the drowsiness sink bank in. You blinked slowly, wishing for the fatigue to disappear, wanting to remain in this very moment for as long as possible.

“Thank you.”

“For what?” You asked softly.

“For loving me,” Wanda answered.

You couldn’t help but smile again. Awkwardly, you moved your hands around under the duvet before locating her hand; you squeezed her hand tightly, bringing your face close to hers before planting a kiss upon her forehead.

“Always.”

…

A chill raced up your spine as you stood defensively across from Tony, whom was clad in his Iron Man armour, an expression of disapproval obvious across his face.

You never thought you’d go against him, not like this, not when your team was supposed to be inseparable. But he’d betrayed the Avengers tenfold; in your eyes, he was turning his back against everything you were supposed to stand for. Without the Avengers better judgement, it would simply became another military asset.

That’s not what you signed up for.

“I’m disappointed in both of you, Wanda, _____.”

You scoffed, heart hammering inside your chest. You were hurt by his words, because Tony’s opinion mattered so much to you. He was there at the beginning of your unravel; he had supported you through the trials calling for your imprisonment, and he had stuck by your side every moment of every day. Countless times he had saved your life, and countless times had you returned such a favour.

“You don’t get to be disappointed, Stark,” you countered coldly, a tone so bitter and low that it felt horrible to use. “You turned your back on us - you tried to lock Wanda away!”

“I was protecting her! I was protecting you!” Tony shouted, exasperated. It was evident that he was frustrated, and underneath his eyes were deep, purple bags, an indication that this entire situation was losing him sleep.

“Protecting us? I think you need to look at a dictionary and improve your knowledge! That suits clearly gone to your head.”

It wasn’t long before a fight broke out. It was brutal; it felt wrong on every level imaginable. To be fighting your family was everything you stood against; you never thought this day would exist or happen, yet here you were, using your powers against the people you had grown to love and care for.

Firmly standing your ground, you aimed your hand at the nearest object - a car - and willed it to move into the air. Power surged through your body and into your fingertips, lighting your mind with excitement and thrill. It was heavy and took a lot of willpower, but you were able to send it crashing into the man clad in the Black Panther suit.

You turned on your heel and took off into the air, landing atop of the nearby aeroplane where you knew your advantage would be. Below, you could see all your friends engaged in some form of fight. Whether or not they were feeling regretful of their actions, you weren’t sure, you could only be positive of your own guilt and shame.

Sensing a trustful twitch in the back of your mind, you threw yourself to the ground as Spider-Man suddenly swept overhead. He landed a few feet away, catching himself before falling over the edge.

“And who are you supposed to be?” You hissed, feeing no attachment for this stranger. Standing to your own defence, you readied yourself for whatever could be thrown your way.

“I’m Spider-Man.” Your eyebrows shot upwards in genuine surprise at the childlike voice. Your stomach sank at the realisation that Tony had recruited a literal child; was he truly that desperate to capture yourself and the others, just to obey the Sokovia Accords?

“This isn’t your fight, kid,” you warned.

“Mr. Stark said—“

You shot out your hand and made a grabbing mimic, lifting Spider-Man into the air and interrupting him mid-sentence. A surprised shriek left his mouth as you dangled him over the edge, furthering him away from your advantage spot.

“Stark lies. Stay out of this fight, you have no reason to be here other than Tony’s desperation!”

Despite being his enemy, you were careful in lowering Spider-Man to the ground. You weren’t aware of his exact age, but you didn’t want to risk injuring a kid. It wasn’t fair bringing an innocent into a fight like this; he shouldn’t be troubling himself with a situation that could snatch away his future. This only made you all the more furious at Tony.

Steve and Bucky made a dash across the airport, followed closely by Sam and Clint. From your high position, you knew you’d be able to stop anything from stopping their getaway. You just had to be quick and not hesitate.

Your eyes locked on to Tony, Nat and Rhodey, who were all advancing towards Steve. You inhaled deeply and conjured as much power as possible to launch objects in their path, just to slow them down and buy your friends some time. It worked, for the most part; wiping out Tony and holding him back.

The Black Panther had his eyes set like sharp daggers on Bucky, a vengeful thirst driving his motivation to catch the Winter Soldier. You were skeptical about Bucky’s crimes and claim to fighting his way to a better life, but you trusted Steve and his judgement best.

As the Black Panther started to veer closer to Steve and Bucky, you intercepted by launching your body into him. You both tumbled off to the side and rolled across the concrete.

You smacked your head and heard a gruesome crack, and a moment of delirium washed over you. The sky swirled and the world danced in circles; your eyes remained unfocused and blurry as you stumbled and tripped to your feet, to your knees before you fell flat on your face again.

You shot out your hand and mimicked a swiping motion, knocking Rhodey off his feet and increasing Steve’s chance of escape. Even if you couldn’t escape with them, you knew what had to be done.

As Steve and Bucky vanished into the storehouse, where an aircraft waited for them, you realised Natasha was nowhere to be seen. A string of curses slipped through your gritted teeth as you attempted to stand again, not ready to lose against Tony.

Before you could make any advancements, within your peripheral vision, you spotted Wanda in a heap of trouble. Your heart hammered in anticipation as she fought with hesitated strength, and you knew that she felt the same as you did.

It wasn’t right fighting against your friends like this. Ideals and beliefs tearing the team apart so easily; yet, you understood why these things had to be done. Not only that but Bucky is a criminal whom needed to be trialed for his crimes, even if he wasn’t fully in control of his actions.

“Wanda! Behind you!” You shrieked, eyes snapping open in horror as she was tackled and pinned to the ground by Vision. He restrained her easily, and while she struggled against him for only a brief moment, you saw the fight leave her eyes as she caved.

Scrambling to your feet, you focused on Visions hands and forced them away from Wanda. A look of betrayal crossed his face, his eyes narrowing in distrust.

“Stop this, _____,” Vision demanded.

Your knees started to shake as the pressure set in. A dull throb spread throughout your head, and your eyes slowly started to blur. With the corners of your sight starting to darken, the world around you growing cold, you finally locked eyes with Wanda.

The faintest of smiles turned at her lips, her reassuring gaze urging you to relax. And you did; you released your hold on Vision and crumbled to your knees, panting and gasping for air. Wanda then mouthed, “it’s okay”.

It was over.

Just like that.

Tony and his team of traitors tore you from the airport and had you imprisoned in the intense safety of the RAFT. A place where powered individuals were locked away, the key thrown overboard; without mercy or empathy.

You curled yourself into a tight ball and stared aimlessly at the wall, lost in your thoughts, trapped with only the doubtful voice that mimicked your every insecurity.

Across from you was Wanda’s cell. She looked exhausted, like she had given up hope. Eventually, when her gaze turned to yours, at the same time, you both offered the tiniest smile, a reassurance that you were both in this situation together, no matter what.

Wanda placed her forehead against the glass and mouthed, “thank you for loving me.”

And you mouthed back, “always.”

…

As battle cries rang out across Wakanda, you found yourself lost in the heat of war. Crossing the field in the fastest sprint you could muster, you launched yourself into the air and knocked into one of Thanos’ children.

You both bounced and tumbled across the dirt floor, rolling far. There, you scurried to your feet and directed your attention onto their hands; weapons clutched tightly and pulled back to strike. You ducked and dodged, fighting back with as much force as you could manage.

With every punch you lay on them, they kicked back tenfold. You didn’t escape each small fight unscathed or unharmed. Blood trickled from fresh wounds, mixing with the sweat and dirt that gathered in lumps across your clothes and skin. But you knew you couldn’t stop, not even when your legs ached and screamed for you to stop.

You slid across the floor and tackled another beast, your hand motioning to grab and tear apart your target. It screamed and shrieked a shrill noise, one that made your ears ring, but you lacked the mercy to stop and consider your actions. It was either them or you.

Thanos was on a bloodthirsty mission for the Infinity Stones; whatever reason he desired them, you were uncertain, but you had been summoned to assist the broken-band of Avengers in their desperate attempts to stop him before irreversible damage could be caused.

The battle raged on, seemingly never ending. Both sides took heavy damage, but neither teams showed signs of surrender.

And then it slowed down.

The world grew darker and darker, and the floor drew closer at an alarmingly fast pace. Your head bounced against the floor, a shrill ringing drowning out the noise of battle around you. Your eyes, unfocused and teary, scanned the world for some kind of answer as a strange sensation expanded in your chest.

There was shouting; incoherent and loud, closer and farther away. You zoned in and out, an odd sense of calm flooding your senses while the sky turned brighter and warmer. Your body temperature dropped considerably, and suddenly the ache in your legs vanished.

Panicked, Natasha scooped you into her arms and dragged you as far as she could from the battle field. A string of reassurances fell from her mouth, hands soaked in blood, a mix of yours, hers and theirs. She fumbled uselessly and attempted to slow the bleeding from the gaping hole in your chest.

“Stay with me, _____! Stay with me!” Natasha aggressively demanded, her eyes often flickering towards the dangers around her, and back to the fading life underneath her. She couldn’t afford to lose you, not like this.

And as your eyes fluttered shut for the last time, your final thoughts drifted to Wanda.

Beautiful, brilliant, Wanda.

…

“Bertie! Bobby! Dinner!” You bellowed into the grassy field, hands clapping together as the twin golden retriever dogs bolted through the garden.

You could hardly see their heads in the blades of grass, but their pants and friendly grumbles assured you of their obedience and loyalty for their promised dinner. You loudly praised the dogs as they ushered past your form, straight into the farmhouse where their meals awaited.

You chuckled and turned, ready to close the door. However, you paused as something caught your attention at the end of your drive. A figure, distant and unmoving, watching you from afar. You blinked and faced them, the hairs on the back of your neck standing on edge.

“_____?”

Wanda.

A grin spread across your face as you darted down the porch with arms spread open wide. You captured Wanda in a tight hug, both of you collapsing to the ground in a heap of relieved laughs and happiness.

“It’s been too long!” You exclaimed after a minute of giggling. You both sat up, unbothered for the grass stains now marking your jeans. You cupped Wanda’s face lovingly and placed a kiss upon her forehead.

“I… I missed you,” Wanda confessed softly, her eyes filling with tears. “You look so healthy— amazing!”

You cast Wanda a strange look. “Missed me? We saw one another last week.”

Wanda began to stumble over her words, a deep red covering her ears. You laughed and poked her nose, and a nostalgic smile spread across her face in awe. “Come on, let’s go inside.”

Before you could stand and lead her into your home, Wanda grasped your hand and held you still. You turned to face her, brows furrowing as confusion marked your expression, and it suddenly dawned on you of the sad, glossy tears in her eyes.

You reached out and cupped her cheeks, examining the saddening smile upon her face. “What’s the matter, Wanda?” You softly asked, your thumb gently stroking her cheek, wiping away an escaped tear.

Her hand reached up and grazed your fingers. The touch was gentle, almost like she was admiring you. But what for? She’d not long been with you; a week ago you had both enjoyed some tea and cake inside your kitchen, living in the moment, carefree and young.

“You died, _____.”

Your nose scrunched upwards before a dry laugh escaped your throat. “Very funny, Wanda.”

But Wanda didn’t laugh. She didn’t confess to her joke, nor did she attempt to crack a jestering smile. You pulled your hands away, suddenly feeling a cold chill rush up your spine.

“What are you talking about? I’m right here,” you muttered. You folded your arms across your front, hugging your limbs close in an attempt to stay warm. What happened to the warm sun? It had vanished behind those red clouds in the distance.

“Five years ago,” Wanda explained, her voice unstable and brittle. She seemed to have trouble speaking, and with the added tears rolling down her face, you found it nearly impossible to detect a lie within her words. “Thanos’ children stabbed your heart. You died in Natasha’s arms.”

As if fazed by her words, a dull, phantom ache spread inside your chest. It wasn’t painful, but there was a brief explosion of pins and needles. You winced, stepping back, disbelief setting in.

“Why are you saying these things?”

Wanda’s bottom lip trembled. “Because they’re true.”

You defiantly shook your head. “No, no they’re not. I’m standing right here, Wanda. Look! I’m real! I’m not dead! Look at me!”

“I have memories from the past five years! How would I have those if I had died?” You challenged bitterly.

“Because I gave you those memories!” Wanda snapped, stepping forwards and grasping your shoulders tight. She shook you slightly, trying to force some sense into you.

“Wanda—“

“What do you remember of our fight against Thanos and his children? What do you remember from Wakanda?”

You glanced between Wanda’s eyes, desperately searching for something to make sense of the situation. But all you could find was sadness; there wasn’t any frustration or irritation present, it was just anguish and despair.

You thought back to the battle in Wakanda, and you quickly found yourself doubting the outcome of events. What had actually happened? Your mind became hazy, filled with thoughts that felt so unreal and false.

“I fought beside Natasha…” you slowly confessed. “We were protecting Vision from Thanos, because he wanted the Mind Stone.”

“And?”

“And…”

But you couldn’t speak anymore. You stopped completely. Drawing blanks and endings that didn’t match, your memory ended there, leaving you an empty vessel with nothing more to say. Wanda understood your silence for realisation, and she knew you had finally pushed away her false reality.

You blinked rapidly, your arms unfolding and your hand pressing gingerly against your chest, where a gaping hole should have been. You could remember the indescribable pain that you had suffered in your final moments; the way Natasha held you close and begged you to stay alive.

“… and I died,” you whispered.

Wanda nodded stiffly. She lowered her gaze, hiding her shame away from you.

“How am I here?” You asked quietly.

A tear rolled down Wanda’s cheek. “I created you.”

Your eyes wandered to the sky, where you finally noticed the abnormality of the red shade. It was like blood, a river racing far and wide across the universe. This wasn’t your reality; how could you have been so blind to this moment?

“Why?”

“Because I missed you.”

Your gaze trailed back to Wanda. She remained still and tense, unmoving as she accepted what she had done.

Inhaling deeply, you let out a small sigh. Holding out your hand, you grasped hers and laced your fingers together, bringing her close and resting your forehead against hers. She sniffled loudly while fighting back a sob, and it took all your willpower to not burst into tears.

A golden glow began shining around your body, a lightweight feeling taking over. It was euphoric and blissful; you felt at peace and somewhat free. For the first time in a long time, you were calm and prepared to die.

“Hey, Wanda?” You mumbled.

Wanda hiccuped, “yes?”

You smiled and pulled away, eyes naturally locking with hers.

“Thank you.”

Her face scrunched in confusion. “What for?” She asked.

“For loving me.”

And as the red started to fade in the sky, a blissful blue taking its place; your body started to fade away. Tiny golden swirls danced and glistened under the daytime sun, swishing and vanishing in the blades of grass.

The farmhouse began to fade, too, disappearing into thin air.

Before you could completely disappear, Wanda released an almighty wail of despair, her hands grasping the air in a futile attempt to make you stay.

And as her reality faded, so did you.

Wanda sobbed and crumbled to the ground, holding close her hands to her chest. Looking upwards to the sky, where the final specs of golden dust lingered high above, she mustered out a final farewell.

“Always.”

[chickensarentcheap]

Never Gonna Be Alone- Chapter 2

Chapter Title: Home

Warnings: none

Tagging: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @innerpaperexpertcloud, @alievans007, @tragiclyhip

He wakes to the sound of knuckles rapping against the bedroom door and the voices of his two youngest daughters. A hearty, home cooked meal and a soak in the hot tub had been exactly what his weary and aching body had needed. Barely managing to pull on a pair of sweats and a t-shirt before exhaustion had taken over; passing out -face down- in the middle of the double king in the master bedroom. It isn’t an easy feat; napping in a house filled with seven kids. There’s always some level of chaos; near constantly bickering between the four oldest, the three littles shrieking and giggling as they chase each other around, the sound of the television or the explosions and gunfire coming from a video game being played. The latter accompanied by the occasional outbursts of profanity as Declan and TJ argue over who is beating who. If he has been away or been logging way too many hours handling things behind the scenes and DOES manage to catch some extra sleep, Esme does her best to keep the volume down; usually taking the kids down to the water or into town for a few hours. In the same way he does for her; giving her much needed ‘mommy breaks’ from time to time and letting her have the entire house to herself. It's the least he can do; let her have the house to herself to catch up on sleep or just sit and read a book on the back or to have a glass of wine while indulging in a bubble bath by candlelight.

Life is crazy in their home; noisy and chaotic and their schedules filled with work or running the kids around to their extra curricular activities. It’s tiring and often extremely frustrating; dealing with THREE preteens, a kiddo with Tanner’s additional issues, and both Brooklyn and Declan so high spirited. Addie and Takota are the easiest to deal with; one very bubbly, affectionate, and extremely social, the other quiet and thoughtful and extremely mild mannered. It’s an existence he’d never thought he’d have. Losing his first child -and the horrible mistake he’d made leading up to it- had nearly destroyed him; the combined feelings of profound grief and guilt eating away at him and leading to his addiction issues. He’d never thought he’d get another shot at a normal life; a chance to be a husband and a father again. And while he regrets the years he spent putting his family last and running away out of fear of failure, he knows many more ahead of him; many more chances and opportunities to make things right.

“Daddy?” Addie’s voice accompanies the continued knocking on the door. “Are you awake?”

He rolls over onto his back and presses the heels of his palms into his weary eyes. “Yeah…” he pushes his hands through his hair and stretches; wincing at the pain and stiffness in his lower back. “...I’m awake.”

“Mumma says dinner will be ready in about half an hour. She sent us to tell you.”

“I’m here too!” Brooklyn pipes up. “Can we come in? Can we come see you?”

“We want snuggles,” Addie says. “We haven’t had daddy snuggles in a LONG time.”

“In a really long time.” Brooklyn adds.

“We really want to snuggle with you,” Addie’s tiny voice has a pleading quality to it, and he can’t help but smile; picturing that pout and those sad little eyes and the way she tucks her chin into her chest.

She is definitely her mother; the petite stature and the small, delicate features and that smooth, pale skin accentuated by the dark strands of hair that frame her face. Their personalities are a match as well; bubbly and social and easily excitable. And the smile. So beautiful. Pure, even. Always genuine; brightening their entire face and making those dark eyes sparkle. Perhaps it’s why...out of all the kids...he tends to baby Addie. Not just that impossibly tiny build and that sunny and light disposition that never fails to make him smile, but because she IS so much like her mother. A constant reminder of the person who single handedly changed his life; saving him in every way a person CAN be saved.

“Daddy?” Brooklyn raps her knuckles against the door once again. “Can we? Can we come for snuggles?”

“What do I get out of it?”

“You get to see us!” Addie gives a dramatic huff. “You’re two most favourite girls in the whole world!”

“Get in here, then. If you’re going to put it like THAT.”

The door swings open and the girls come rushing in; giggling as they toss themselves onto the bed and scramble up towards him. Gathering them into his arms when they settle on either side of him; showering their cheeks and foreheads with kisses and running his hands over their silky, dark hair. Despite being almost a full year old, Addie remains the smaller of the two; petite in stature, possessing her mom’s small, almost dainty features and those enormous dark eyes. Esme in every possible way; appearance, personality, even the same body language and facial expressions. Brooklyn is a mix of both mom and dad; tall and lanky with his eyes and Esme’s dark hair and pale skin. She’s feisty and fearless; a lot of energy and tenacity packed into the skinny frame. She reminds him of TJ; stubborn and temperamental, yet loving so deeply and profoundly.

The girls settle in next to him; each of them with a hand resting on his stomach and their heads on his chest. His palms smoothing over their hair and then settle on the middle of their backs. It’s the greatest achievement of his life. If not the ONLY achievement. Being a dad is the one thing that he can truly be proud of; having a hand in creating seven beautiful human lives and being entrusted to bring them up to decent adults. Nothing drives him to want to be better and do better than his family. Wanting nothing more than to be the kind of father that his kids talk about and remember fondly when they have their own children. Seeing him love their mother with everything he is and everything he has; respecting her and treating her well and insisting they do as well teaching them what they should do and expect in a relationship.

It’s what he wants for his sons; finding someone they love and they want to devote themselves and who make them happy. And the same goes for his daughters; hoping the way he treats their mother teaches them what they should expect from the men -or women- in their lives. He never wants them to settle for less; end up with someone like Mark that will degrade them and abuse them in every possible way. They’re strong; like their momma. And being taught how to respect and take care of themselves. But he’d gladly take an assault charge and do time in jail messing up something that hurts his girls.

“Daddy?” Addie places her chin on his chest and reaches up to run her palms along his cheeks. “Why’d you have to go away?”

“I had some business to take care of.”

“You had to go be a boss?”

“I had to go and do a favour. For Uncle Anil.”

“What kind of favour?”

“Did you have to kill someone?” Brooklyn inquires, and lifts his arm and slips under it, pushing her tiny fingers through his much larger and longer ones.

“Why would I have to kill someone?”

“TJ said that before you became a boss, you used to go and kill people,” she explains. “Really bad people. That hurt good people. Is that true? Is that what you used to do?”

“Once in a while, yeah.”

“Is that why you went away?” Addie asks. “To kill someone?”

“I went away to do a favour for Uncle Anil and that’s all you two need to know. You been having a good time? Being back in the city?”

“It’s not as fun as when you’re not here,” Brooklyn says. “Mommy tries, but it’s hard for her to have fun with ALL of us at that same time. That’s a lot of kids; for her to try and make happy all at once. Especially when Millie is being Millie. She never wants to do anything with the rest of us.”

“She’s been really mean,” Addie adds. “To mummy. TJ got mad at her for it; he freaked out and threatened to kick her ass.”

He stares at her pointedly. “Pardon me?”

“Kick her butt, I meant. He was really mad. He said when you’re gone, he’s in charge. And that if you wouldn’t let Millie talk to mummy like that, he wasn’t going to let her do it either.”

“Then they had a big fight,” Brooklyn chimes in. “ And mummy started yelling at Millie and then Millie said she hated her and it made mummy sad. She locked herself in the pantry. I think she was crying. TJ said to leave her alone; that she’d come out when she felt better. Then he made us a snack and took us into the backyard to play in the snow. Why is Millie being like that? Mean to mummy? Mummy doesn’t deserve that. She’s an awesome mummy.”

“If we got to pick our mummies and daddies, I’d pick mummy over everyone else,” Addie muses. “She loves us. She cuts the crusts off our bread and makes dinosaur shaped pancakes and puts chocolate chips in them. And she always gives us the biggest pieces of cake or pie and just takes a little bit for herself. And she’ll make herself something different to eat, if there’s not enough for all of us. Even if it’s just a peanut butter sandwich. She says it’s what mummies do; make sure their kids have everything first. “

“She’s a good mummy,” Tyler agrees. “She’s an amazing mummy. I couldn’t have asked for a better one for you guys. And you’re right; she doesn’t deserve Millie being that way. Is that why mummy sent her out? With her friend?”

“Mummy’s feelings were really hurt,” Brooklyn pouts. “Because she tries really hard to take care of us and Millie acts like that.”

“I’ll talk to mummy. Cheer her up. And I’ll talk to Millie too.”

“Millie told us not to tell you,” Addie informs him. “She said she’d kill us. In our sleep.”

“Well, she won’t get the chance. Not if I kill her first.”

“You won’t kill Millie. She’s your daughter.” Brooklyn’s fingertips trace the tattoo that takes up the entire length of the inside of his left forearm. A permanent version of the stick figure drawing that Millie had inked onto him five years ago; their entire family -at the time- including the two dogs. The last set of twins had been added afterwards; Millie reluctantly adding two new siblings to the mix. “Maybe you can just lock her in the attic. Just feed her once in a while.”

“I can’t do THAT either. I’d go to jail. You don’t want me going to jail, do you?”

Brooklyn shakes her head. “I don’t even like when you go away for a weekend. I don’t want you to go to jail for the rest of your life. We’d never see you.”

“Mummy would bring us to visit,” Addie says. “She’d make sure we got to see him.”

“Mummy isn’t going to take us into a jail,” her sister argues. “That’s not a nice place, Ads. There's a lot of bad there.”

“Daddy’s not bad. But he’d be there. If he killed Millie or locked her up.”

“Mummy still wouldn’t take us. She wouldn’t want us in a place like that.”

“We would have to Skype then. Or Zoom.”

“Not the same. That’s not like seeing him in person. I want to see him in person. That’s why he CAN’T lock Millie up. We’d never see him again. Would you want THAT to happen?”

“No. I’d be really sad. If I didn’t get to see daddy again.”

Tyler grins. “You two do realize I’m right here, yeah?”

“Who would get the spiders and snakes out of the house?” Addie frets. “Mummy freaks out when she sees them. Remember the time she screamed and woke us all up? Almost made me pee my pants. All ‘cause there was a Huntsman on the stove.”

“Mummy was so scared!” Brooklyn giggles. “Remember she was crying? And swearing? And was yelling at daddy to get the spider? And daddy put in the container and chased her outside with it? She said she was going to divorce him because of it. She never did though.”

“But did he have to sleep on the couch for a week,” Addie says. “ I do remember that. Because he tried to sleep in my bed and it was way too small for both of us. His legs were hanging off. ‘Cause he’s like ten feet tall.”

“I’m only six three. But that was funny, wasn’t it? Chasing mommy with the spider? Even if I DID have to sleep on the couch for a week. It was worth it. Seeing her freak out like that.”

“It was hilarious!” Brooklyn enthuses, then turns serious. “But don’t tell her I said that. I don’t want her making me sleep outside. It’s cold out.”

“Your secret is safe with me. I promise.” He presses a kiss to one forehead, then the other. “What’s mummy making for dinner?”

“Chicken parm. Yummm.” Addie rubs her stomach enthusiastically. “It’s the one thing she cooks REALLY well. Well, the only thing she cooks well.”

Tyler can’t help but chuckle. “You’re savage.”

“It’s the little ones you have to watch out for. You know what mummy said?”

“I’m kind of scared to ask.”

“She said you’re taking Brookie and I d\to the American Girl store. For lunch. Two days after Christmas.”

“That’s news to me.”

“She said it’s your turn to do it,” Brooklyn says. “She did it two years in a row. It’s time for you to take one for the team. That’s exactly what she said. Are you? Are you going to take us?”

“I guess I am. Any other dads go to that place?”

“I don’t know,” Addie shrugs. “I’ve seen a couple, I guess. You’ll really do it? You’ll really take us?”

He nods. “But I am NOT wearing a tiara or anything girlie. Got it?”

“What about a fancy hat?” Brooklyn suggests. “Or one of those feathery scarves? Like we have in the dress up bin.”

“What did I just say? I’m taking you there. Isn’t that enough?”

“I told you,” Brooklyn grins victoriously at her sister. “He doesn’t know how to say no to us.”

“*****

She’s in the kitchen; denim clad ass on full display as she leans against the island. Forearms resting on the granite counter top as she flips through that day’s copy of the New York Times; a glass of white wine and a half eaten bar of chocolate within reaching distance. The littlest girls remain upstairs. Their hysterical laughter and the pounding of footsteps echoing through the house; Declan and TJ chasing them throughout the second story while roaring like dinosaurs. In the living room, Tanner teaches an intensely focused and intrigued Takota how to play checkers; the board placed on an ottoman in front of the gas fireplace.

Esme gives a small start when he curls an arm around her waist; his free hand moving her ponytail away from the nape of her neck and his lips pressing against the soft, supple skin. “Hey sleeping beauty,” she greets, as both of his hands settle on her hips and she leans back against him. “Feeling better?”

Nodding, he presses a kiss to her temple, followed by the cheek, then the corner of her mouth. “Thank you. For letting me sleep.”

“You needed it. You’ve had a hell of a five days. That’s a heck of a lot of travelling; tons of hours in the air. I’m surprised you didn’t just want to stay in bed. You could have said that you know; that you just wanted to sleep. I would have understood; I wouldn’t have been offended.”

“I spent five days away from you guys. I don’t want to miss another minute. Although, I gotta say, I had quite the wake up call. You throwing me under the bus.”

She tilts her head back and grins up at him. “Girls must have told you about the lunch at American Girl.”

“They did. And I have to say, that place? My own personal hell.”

“Every year since we started having Christmas here, they’ve got to have lunch there. I’ve taken them there both years. And besides…” she turns around to face him, hands coming to rest on his sides. “...the only day I could get reservations, was the same day that I’m taking Millie, Declan and TJ to the Rangers game.”

“What about Ovi? Or Riya?”

“Ovi is taking Tanner to the American Museum of Natural History. They do it every Christmas.”

“Riley?”

"She and Shaena aren’t arriving until two days after. Come on…” she repeatedly rubs her palms up and down his ribs. “...I’ve done it two years in a row and I can’t do it a third. Do you want me to be an alcoholic? Or to eat my weight in cheesecake? Or both? Because if I have to go to that place again…”

“What do I get out of it?”

“I’m sure we can...arrange...something. I’m not above doing favours.”

He grins. “What kind of favours?”

“Sexual ones. EXTREMELY sexual ones. Unless there’s other favours you’re thinking about.”

“No. I think sexual favours would work just fine. I won’t turn those down.”

“I’d probably die of a stroke if you did.”

“Well, we don’t want that, do we.” His palms slide around to her ass and he pulls her even tighter into him; her hands settling on his biceps and she stands on her tiptoes and into a kiss. And he both hears and feels her giggle when his fingers dig into the flesh of her ass.

“So is that a ‘yes?” Esme asks. “You’ll take Addie and Brookie to American Girl?”

“You really thought I’d say I wouldn’t do it?”

“Everyone has their limits. I thought that just might be yours. They really DO have you wrapped around their little fingers.”

“Who do you think they get THAT from? Their ability to do that?”

“I have no idea. I have no clue where they could have gotten that from. Must be a gift.”

“Yeah, a gift their mother gave them. I was pretty much wrapped around your little finger from that first day, so…”

“Only took you twelve years to admit it. I mean, I’ve known it this entire time. It was pretty obvious. To everyone BUT you.”

“Everyone?”

“Everyone. And what’s up with these?” She reaches between and slides her hands under the front of his t-shirt; fingers toying with the ties on the waistband of his joggers. “Gray sweats? You know my weakness for gray sweats. Are you trying to seduce me?”

“Is that what it takes these days? Me wearing gray sweats?”

“You could be wearing a garbage bag and you’d manage. You’re pulling out all the stops. Flowers, gray sweats. Although the latter? I already know what’s under them; not like it’s a secret.”

“I thought you liked unwrapping your gifts?”

A grin slowly spreads from ear to ear. “Oh, I do. And it’s the gift that keeps on giving. You know, you didn’t have to try so hard. I was going to put out anyway. I mean, it’s been almost a week. I’m a little...frustrated...to say the least.”

“That makes two of us. You didn’t bring one of your little ‘friends’ to New York with you? One of your special toys?”

“Nope. I wanted to wait for the real thing. So you better not disappoint me, husband. I have very high standards. And expectations. If you don’t live up to those…”

“Have I ever NOT lived up to them?”

“That was a very good point.” Her fingers hook in the waistband of his sweats, once more standing on her tiptoes, giggling into his mouth and then pushing him away when his hands clamp down on her ass. “Thank you. For agreeing to you that. Going to the doll place. You’re a real trooper, husband. I owe you one.”

“I’ll add it to the list. Of the favours you owe me.”

“You have a list?”

“You don’t?”

“Maybe…” she sing songs, then turns back to face the island. “...and you’ll have to put up with them going on a little shopping spree. My mother send them gift cards; to American Girl.”

“Your mother actually sent them something?” He moves to the fridge, pulling out a bottle of water before briefly stepping into the pantry; resurfacing with a handful of pills. Meds to control the mild to moderate pain and the inflammation from the arthritis that inhabits his body and an antidepressant AND psychotic. It’s old hat now; four times a day to control pain, the others taken twice a day to ward off any issues from his mental health problems. And it’s been five years of pretty good success; no major depressive episodes and only a handful of panic attacks. A far cry from the life he HAD been living.

“I actually think it was my step father. Have you noticed how things change every time they get back together? The emails start up, the birthday cards and money start rolling in, the Christmas gifts arrive. It’s like clock work; they hook back up, she attempts to come across as a normal grandmother.”

Uncapping the water, he swallows half with the handful of pills, then stands across from her and leans stomach first against the counter. “We both know there’s nothing normal about that woman. How you turned out relatively sane is beyond.”

“Relatively sane? Are you trying to say I’m just a tad INSANE?”

“I’m saying you have a tendency to be a little...high strung. A little neurotic.”

“Yet you still married me. Imagine that.”

“What can I say? I’m a sucker for big brown eyes and freckles.”

“Something tells me it wasn’t my eyes and my freckles that you first noticed. But whatever helps you sleep at night. But yes. My mother DID send them something. Shockingly, she sent them ALL something. I can’t believe she even remembered we have seven children. I thought maybe she stopped counting after Declan.”

“Well she stopped caring after TJ and Tanner. Remember how pissed she was that we named one of them after me?”

“Oh, I distinctly remember the epic hissy fit she threw in my hospital room. When we told her what their names were. I completely remember her meltdown.”

“Wasn’t it something about that name just setting the kid up for failure? I think I remember a part about me being a black cloud over the whole family and just bringing bad luck on the kid? Something like that, anyway.”

“She’s fucking insane. She always has been. I warned you; before we moved to Colorado. I told she was nuts. You thought I was overreacting.”

“I will never, ever doubt you again. And I’m going to regret even asking, and don’t take this as a sign I actually give a shit, but how is the old bitch doing?”

“Well, she’s still alive. Alive enough to grate on my nerves and make me want to drink. Alive enough to undergo her sixth round of chemo. What ever happened to the whole ‘she won’t live past a year’ scenario? That’s what we were told. SIX years ago. You think she’s THAT evil? So evil nothing can kill her?”

“I think she’s got a few horseshoes up her ass. She’s not done tormenting people yet, I guess.”

“Well she can right ahead and torment someone else. I’m not in the mood for her shit.” Picking up the glass of wine, she downs half of it, then moves to the fridge to grab the bottle out of the fridge.

“Something tells me that isn’t sparkling cider.”

“It’s the real deal. I actually had it delivered. It’s been a long day. Between dealing with my family and their attempts at reconciliation and your daughter between the spawn of Satan, be thankful I’m not already passed out on the bathroom floor.”

“Shades of last New Years Eve. She’s been that bad? Millie?”

“Bad doesn’t even begin to describe what she’s been like. Bad times...oh I don’t know...a thousand?” She fills the wine glass to the brim, then takes another long swallow. “Did you hear about my meltdown? How I locked myself in the pantry of sorrow and self pity? I know for sure the girls told you about that.”

“Yeah, they told me. Something about Millie saying she hates you.”

“Remember how she told me she hated me when she was six? Over the whole not telling her you were in the hospital thing? Remember I told you that nothing could possibly hurt more than your six year old telling you she hates you?”

Tyler nods.

“I was wrong. I was SO wrong. It hurts much worse when your eleven year old tells you. Because when they get to THAT age and you actually see and hear the hate they have for you? Yeah, that’s the real deal. And you know why it started? I asked her to unload the dishwasher. That’s it. She threw a fit; freaking out about how I’m lame and boring and stupid and I’m ruining her life and she hates me. That’s the kind of day I’ve had.”

Sighing heavily, he runs his hands over his face. “I’ll talk to her.”

“Oh that will go over real well. Like a fart in church. You know what that’s going to do? Cause an even bigger freak out. Over me turning daddy against her. You know that’s what she’ll say. She says it every time you get on her about something. She calls me a rat and a snitch. A cry baby. For running to you and whining about things. Her exact words.”

“Are you sure she wasn’t switched at birth? Are you sure they didn’t fuck up at the hospital and our real daughter isn’t out there somewhere? How did we have a kid like this? Neither of us are THAT bad.”

“I’d accept the switch at birth theory if she didn’t look just like you. If she didn’t have the same body language and facial expressions and all that. It’ll just make things worse; if you talk to her. She’ll just hate me even more and there’ll be even more drama in the house. Can we not have a nice Christmas? I’d like to have a nice Christmas.”

“With her acting like THAT? Won’t be too nice if she’s pulling that bullshit. She can’t get away with that, Me. She can’t talk to you like that. Disrespect you like that. I don’t let strangers disrespect my wife so I’m sure as hell not going to let my own kid do it. I’ll talk to her.”

“By talk to her, you actually mean put the fear of God into her.”

“If I have to. Is she home now?”’

“Up in her room sulking. Because some boy called her for her and I wouldn’t let her talk to him.”

“A boy called? Here. For Millie? Our Millie. Who doesn’t give a shit about boys back home. That’s who we’re talking about, yeah?”

“Some boy she met at the movies,” Tanner says, as he wanders into the kitchen and grabs two bottles of water from the fridge. “Aaron. What a dumb name. I bet he IS dumb. You’d have to be dumb to like Millie.”

“Okay, Nugget, that is not nice,” Esme gently scolds. “I know she’s been a holy terror since we got here, but that is not a nice thing to say about your sister.”

“She’s evil. She told Declan he’s adopted and that’s why he has red hair and doesn’t look like any of us. And she made Takota cry; she told him an alligator lived in the toilet and that the next sat down on it, it was going to bite his penis off.”

“And this was all on the first day here,” Esme addresses Tyler, and sips her wine. “And you wonder why I’m drinking.”

“I bet you it’s puberty,” Tanner says, as he turns on his heel and heads back to the living room. “I read about it, you know. It’s all about the hormones. Some people go totally off the reservation. I bet that’s Millie’s issue. She’s probably going to get her period soon.”

Esme scowls. “Thank you, Nugget. We really need to hear that. That just made things so much better.”

“I’m just saying, mum. It would explain A LOT. Didn’t you used to get all nutso when you had your period?”

“Not that my menstrual cycle is any of your business, but how old do you think I am? WHEN I had it? I still have it, thank you very much. Why do you think your dad comes home with cartons of ice cream and bags of chocolate bars at the same time every month? He knows it tames the beast.”

Tyler nods in agreement.

“I am NEVER getting married,” Tanner declares. “Too much craziness. I’m not dealing with THAT shit.”

Esme gives a derisive snort and looks at her husband. “Have kids they said. It’ll be fun they said.”

“I told you we should have stopped after the first one. But you didn’t want her to be an only child. You said she’d be lonely and hate us for not giving her siblings and people to play with. And now here we are.”

“Yes. Here we are. Seven later. And as much as they drive me insane and as feral as they are and even though I could run away sometimes, I love them. They drive me to drink, but I do love them. I’m not a perfect mother. I know that. But I try. You know I do.”

“You’re an amazing mum. Don’t don’t doubt it because Millie is being a bitch. Don’t take it to heart; I told my old man I hated him tons of times.”

“Your father used to beat you on the regular and lock in a shed for two days with no food. This is hardly the same thing. He gave you many reasons to hate him. Am I giving her reasons? To hate me?”

“No. You’re not. You’re a great mum, Me. I couldn’t have asked for a better mother for my kids. This is her. All her. And she doesn’t hate you. She loves you. You’re her mother.”

“I saw it in her eyes, Tyler. I heard it in her voice. She does hate me. And…” her voice cracks with emotion. “...and it hurts. Because I have tried so hard over the last eleven years to be a good mom. I’ve tried to be the complete opposite of what I had growing up. I don’t know what I’ve done wrong. To make her hate me? What have I done? What mistakes have I made?”

“Me...come on…” Walking around to the other side of the island, he plucks the wine glass out of her shaky hand and sets it on the countertop. “...this isn’t about you.” Cradling her face in his palms, his thumbs brush against her cheeks as he presses a kiss to her forehead and then draws her into his arms; tightly pressed against him with one hand on the small of her back and the other on the nape of her neck. “None of this is about you.”

“Where did I go wrong with her? What…?”

“Nowhere. You didn’t do anything wrong. I know it hurts, babe. I know it makes you feel like shit; hearing her say those things. But it’s not your fault.”

“Something had to have happened. For her to be like this. I must have done something.”

“Hey…” he once more takes her face in his hands. “...stop. You didn’t do a goddamn thing wrong. This is all her. Whatever the fuck is going on, I’ll find out. I’ll talk to her.”

“Try not to make things worse.”

“I wouldn’t do that. You know I wouldn’t.”

“I just don’t get her. When I found out she was going to be a girl, I had all these plans. All these little daydreams. About how close we’d be and all the things we’d do together and how I’d be so different from my own mother. And I’ve tried. I’ve tried so hard. Not to be anything like her.”

“And you’re not. You’re nothing like her.”

“I just don’t know what happened. Between Millie and I. And if I don’t know what happened, how am I supposed to fix it? She won’t talk to me. Not without fighting, anyway. And when she gets started in on me, TJ loses it. He flips his shit.”

“He’s protective of his momma. He always has been.”

“He is so much like you. It’s like watching and listening to a mini you. It’s scary sometimes; how alike the two of you are. Could you get him to rein it in a bit? Because he snaps and it’s not a nice thing to see. I’m afraid he’ll hurt her one day. Really hurt her.”

“I’ll talk to him too. He’s just protective. He’s trying to take care of you. But I’ll talk to him; get him to tone it down.”

“I thought he was going to beat the shit out of Jacobi today. That would not have ended well.”

“Yeah, he would have destroyed Jacobi.”

“He’s seventeen. TJ’s ten.”

“Don’t underestimate that kid. I’ve seen him fight. He took on four kids when he was five. Older kids. And beat the shit out of all of them. He could take Jacobi. No doubt in my mind. Should have let him try. I would have loved to have seen that.”

“Don’t encourage it. The last thing we need is him beating the crap out of Jacobi and Jacobi’s mother showing up on the doorstep.”

“Imagine how embarrassing that would be? Your seventeen year old son getting his ass beat by a ten year old?”

“We are not going to encourage our ten year old to beat anyone’s ass.”

“Ask me the kid deserves it. I know about his little crush on you.”

“He’s a teenager. I have seven kids. I’m forty one years old!”

“A very hot and sexy forty one year old.”

“In your eyes.”

“In A LOT of peoples’ eyes. What? You think I don’t know. That my wife’s a MILF? I’ve known it for eleven years. It’s nothing new. I’ve got thirsty women at the soccer park and on the playground, you’ve got horny seventeen year olds.”

“Only seventeen year olds don’t stand a chance. The women at the soccer park and on the playground? They’re all grown up.”

“And I don’t give a shit about a single one of them. I only have eyes for you, babe. Do I wear my gray sweatpants for anyone else?”

She grins. “No.”

“Do I wear them out in public? Or do I just wear them at home?”

“Just at home. Because you know I love gray sweatpant season. Especially YOU during gray sweatpants season.”

“Only you, Me,” he says, and cradles her face in his hands as he kisses her softly. “It’s always only been you. It always will be.”

*****

Despite having their own bedrooms, the three littlest insist on sleeping in the same bed; all climbing under the covers in Addie’s room and then settling down for a round of bedtime stories. They’re still excited from both his return and what it means now that he’s under the same roof. Christmas activities are now able to commence; decorating inside and outside, going to pick out a tree, a visit to Rockefeller centre, skating and sledding. The seven had all banded together, insisting that no lights or decorations be put up until daddy got there. It will be a whirlwind of activity; only a week before Christmas day and so many things that need to get done. An attic full of presents -shipped from Australia throughout the year and intercepted by Ovi and put into hiding- that need to be wrapped, lights that need to be put up outside, his own shopping that needs to get done. Never learning NOT to save getting things for the wife at the last minute.

He used to hate Christmas; too many memories -both good and bad- that tied him to his mother and in turn, the loss of her and his father’s torment and abuse. Even during his first marriage and when Austin was alive he’d sucked at ‘getting into the spirit; attempting to be happy and trying his best to enjoy the moments with his little family. As a single guy living in the shack in the outback, he’d simply ignored the holiday altogether; spending it drunk and high off his ass or taking jobs that no one else would. And it had been a struggle; getting used to a wife that loves Christmas and everything associated with it. But seeing the joy in her face and how excited his kids get leading up to the days before Santa’s visit had helped repair the wounds inside of him. Using their happiness as a way of igniting his own; quickly and effortlessly finding his own joy in the season and in making new traditions and memories with his family.

By the end of the third bedtime story, all three littles are asleep; girls passed out under each arm and Takota stretched out on top of him. It’s a feat to get away without waking any of them up. Somehow managing -despite the discomfort and tightness in his back that has him wincing- to set up and gingerly place his son in the middle of Brooklyn and Addie before slowly and cautiously climbing out; tucking Addie’s pink and frilly unicorn themed comforter around all three little bodies before turning out the light and slipping from the room. Door left slightly ajar; Mac taking his usual resting place in front of it. He’ll stay there until he’s certain his tiny charges are safe and sound, then will make his way into the master bedroom and find his usual spot at the end of the bed.

He checks on the older boys; still awake and busying themselves in the twins’ room; mindful to keep the noise down so as not to wake their siblings. The room is enormous; twice the size of the master and consisting of its own full bathroom with double sinks and showers. Declan has his own quarters but often bunks in with TJ and Tanner; making himself comfortable with just a sleeping bag and a pillow on the floor and insisting that’s all he needs. Tanner is already ‘locked’ in his own little world. A safe and quiet place that Tyler had created for him on the bottom bunk; enclosing it with a sliding barn door easily opened from both inside and out, and strings of white mini lights giving the kid the calm and soothing ‘ambiance’ he needs when overwhelmed. He’s good at managing it; knowing ahead of time when he’s starting to become overstimulated and always finding a quiet and safe place to ‘decompress’. He often handles it better than even his parents do; learning how to cope with the things that trigger him and being his own best advocate.

“Hey...Nug…” he raps his knuckles against the wood. Giving Tanner both the chance to answer and to decide if he wants his ‘safe space’ breached. “...you alive in there? Give me a sign.”

He gets a knock back in response, followed by the rustling of blankets before the door slides open and Tanner’s face greets him; his shoulder length hair messy and knotted and a beaming smile spreading from ear to ear.

“Hi dad.”

“You good? Everything alright?”

“I’m good. I just wanted to be quiet.”

“I don’t blame you. Those two…” he casts a glance towards Declan and TJ; one climbing the ‘rock wall’ that had been created a year ago and the other slithering his way up the rope that dangles from the ceiling. “...can be damn noisy.”

“Just a bit,” Tanner agrees.

“What’cha doing?”

“Just writing a bit,” Tanner holds up the leather bound journal -one of many he’s owned and are already full and packed away in a locked box in the back of his closet back home- he’d been scrawling in. Some are used to document his daily life; passages about his struggle being ‘different’ and his brain not working like everyone else’s, others gushing about something fun and exciting he’d gotten to take part in. “I had some really cool dreams while you were gone. That’s what I’m writing about. Will you read them?”

“I always do, don’t I?” He’s in fact the only one who DOES get to read what Tanner writes. Tanner trusting him wholly and completely and enjoying the fact they have a ‘secret’.

“I’ll bring it with me tomorrow. So you can see it. We’re still going right?”

“It’s our thing, right? Always what we do. Breakfast and time out. Just the two of us.”

“It’s a bit different this year. It’s always been the first morning after we get here. But you didn’t come with us this time.”

“I know. And I’m sorry about that. That I had to go and take care of himself. We still buddies?”

“Best buddies. I know you couldn’t help it. That you HAD to go. I’m just glad you’re back. I miss you when you’re gone. Do you have to go away again?”

“Not for a very long time. If ever. I’ll do my best, okay? To not have to go away again.”

“Okay. I’m excited. About tomorrow.”

“Me too, Nug. You need anything? You got your snuggies?”

“I’ve got them all here.” He nods down at the array of stuffed animals arranged at his feet.

“Blankie?”

Tanner holds up the corner of the weighted blanket already stretched out over top of him.

“You’re getting good at this. You won’t need me to check on you much longer.”

“Yes I will. I like when you check on me and we chat. Makes me feel special.”

“You ARE special. Very special. Don’t let anyone tell you any different. Take your meds?”

“Mummy made sure. I’m not sleepy yet though. I’m going to write some more. So you have lots to read tomorrow. Don’t forget your glasses.”

Tyler grins. “Your mom is rubbing off on you.”

“You need them to read. And to go on the computer. And you probably should wear them when you’re on your phone too. Don’t be so stubborn.”

“Speaking off glasses, make sure you take yours off BEFORE you fall asleep.”

“This isn’t my first rodeo. I know what I’m doing.”

“You’re even starting to SOUND like your mother. You in the mood for a hug?”

Tanner nods enthusiastically. “Yup.”

Leaning down, he curls an arm around the ten year old’s slender frame just as two arms encircle his neck. It’s best to never push anything on Tanner; let him call the shots even when it comes to something as simple as affection. “Love you, Nug.”

“Love you too, daddy. I’m glad you’re here.”

“So I am. You sleep good okay? I’ll see you in the morning. We’ll go to our same place.”

“I can’t wait! They’re pancakes are the BEST. Well, not as good as yours and those ones mummy makes with the chocolate chips. But still really good. Will you give mummy another hug and kiss from me? I don’t think I hugged her long enough. And she deserves a long hug and an extra kiss. She had a bad day.”

“I will. I promise.”

“And tell her I love her? To the moon and back?”

“I will tell her that. And she loves you too. She loves you so much.”

“I know. She doesn’t even have to say it. It’s all the things she does for me. Making sure I have my meds and double checking to make sure I brought all my favourite snuggies and that I always have enough pens for writing. And it’s when she smiles at me and calls me ‘Nugget’ and she plays with my hair when we snuggle. I know mummy loves me. She doesn’t make it a secret.”

“She’s loved you right from the start. When you were just a little bean in her tummy. You sleep good, alright? Don’t stay up too late.”

“I won’t.” Tanner gives his dad’s neck one last squeeze. “I love you, daddy. See you later alligator.”

Grinning, he lightly tousels Tanner’s hair. “In a while crocodile.”

*****

Millie answers on the second knock; a terse ‘come in’. She’s been moody and towing a very thin line since she emerged from her room at dinner time. Snapping at her younger siblings and calling them ‘stupid’ and ‘annoying’ if they so as much asked her to pass them something; rolling her eyes whenever her mother spoke to her or just flat out ignoring her altogether. Eventually Tyler had had enough. What should have been a happy return home and getting to have dinner with his family after five days away turned into a screaming match; him ordering Millie up to her room with her dinner and her accusing him of hating her and always taking everyone’s side when ganging up on her. What used to be easily managed behaviour when she was six has become increasingly difficult to put up with; her attitude and her mouth almost unbearable. And she’s come to realize that those big blue eyes and that pout don’t immediately cause daddy to cave; he no longer buckles to the faux remorse or the feelings of guilt he’d get whenever he’d raise his face or scold her.

He leans against the door frame, arms crossed over his chest; his daughter avoiding all eye contact as she silks in the middle of her bed. “What’s up your ass?”

“What’s up yours?”

Tyler scowls. “Excuse me? You did not say what I think you just said.”

Millie chews nervously on her bottom lip. A habit she’d inherited from her mother. “Sorry.”

“What is going on with you? You’ve been acting like an asshole for four days. Don’t even try and deny it. You really thought I wouldn’t find out? You have six brothers and sisters. You really think they wouldn’t talk? You really thought you could tell Addie and Brookie you’d kill them in their sleep if they told me?”

“I knew they’d rat on me. And I knew SHE’D rat on me.”

“Who is she? And you better not say your mother. I know you’re not talking about her like that. Especially to me.”

“You always take HER side. Always. You used to on my side. Now you’re kissing her butt and…”

“Okay, first of all…” He leaves the door open as he stalks into the room; keeping his temper in check as he stands at the foot of the bed. “...SHE has a name. And to you, it’s mum. You don’t talk about your mother like that. Especially to me. Second, check your tone. You don’t talk to me like that. Ever. Got it?”

Millie nods.

“What the fuck, Amelia? I leave for four days and THIS is how you behave? Didn’t I warn you BEFORE I left? About treating your mother right? Did I not tell you I better not find out you were mouthy and disrespectful to her? I’m pretty sure I did.”

“You did.”

“You don’t talk to your mother like that. You don’t treat her like that. She doesn’t deserve it. Do you know what she went through to even have you? Do you know how close she came to not ever knowing about you? She gave up her entire life for you. She has loved you from the minute she found out she was having you. Do you know how lucky you are to even have a mother? Never mind one that loves you as much as she does? What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Nothing. Nothing is wrong with me. It’s her! It’s all her!”

“I know your mum isn’t perfect. She’s the first to admit it. But I also know you’re full of shit. What has she done? What has she done that’s so bad that you think you can treat her like you are? Give me an example. One thing that is so bad.”

Millie shrugs.

“You’re going to knock your shit off. And not just for a couple days either. You’re going to apologize to your mum and you’re going to mean it. And you’re going to start helping her out and you’re NOT going to ruin Christmas for her or your brothers and sisters. I don’t know what’s going on with you, but until you can talk about it calmly and rationally, I don’t want to hear it. Got it?”

She nods.

“And by the way, that Aaron called back. Only this time I talked to him.”

Millie’s eyes widen.

“Imagine how surprised I was to find out he’s sixteen. And imagine his surprise when I told him you were only eleven. For some reason, he thought you were fourteen. Is there a reason he thought that?”

“No.”

“You want to try again?”

“I told him I was fourteen. Because he’s really cute and I wanted him to call me.”

“Well, I don’t think he’ll be calling back. Because I told him if he ever called again, he’d regret ever getting your number. That if he ever came near my daughter...my ELEVEN year old daughter...I’d beat his ass into the middle of next week. Then I’d rip his head off and shove it up his ass and drop his corpse on his mother’s doorstep.”

Tears of both anger and despair well in her eyes. “Why? Why would you do that?”

“Because you’re eleven. And no sixteen year old should be calling an eleven year old. What the hell is wrong with you? How���d you think you’d get away with that? Giving OUR number to a boy? What the hell, Amelia?”

“Why do you and mom want to ruin my life?”

“We’re your parents and we are trying to protect you. Do you not know what could have happened to you? Talking to this guy? What if he’d wanted to see you? You know we wouldn’t have let you. What were you going to do? Sneak out of the house?”

“I don’t know…”

“Say you did. And say this guy decided to take advantage of you. What then? What would you have done then?”

She shrugs.

“We’re not trying to ruin your life. We’re trying to keep you safe and sound. We’re trying to keep you alive. Sixteen? Really? Nothing good was going to come of that and you know it. You need to smarten up, Monkey. You need to get your head out of your ass and stop treating your mum like shit. And stop terrorizing Kota. You know he takes everything seriously. Now he doesn’t want to sit on the toilet.”

“It was a joke. He doesn’t have to be such a baby about everything.”

“He’s FIVE. He practically IS a baby. If you don’t have anything to say to him, don’t say anything at all. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“I’m being serious, Amelia. You need to check that attitude of yours. And that mouth. Don’t talk to your mother the way you do. Don’t disrespect her. I’ve told you tons of times; no one disrespects my wife. That includes my own kids. Knock it off. Now. You better wake up tomorrow an entirely different person. Because I’m not going to put up with it. Understand me?”

“I understand.”

Journeying around to the side of the bed, he runs a palm over her hair and drops a kiss on the top of her head. “Regardless of what you think about me right now, I love you.”

“I love you, dad. And I’m sorry. About everything. Especially about that boy.”

“You’re smarter than that. WAY smarter than that. Can we at least try to have a good Christmas? Think you can do that? Make it a pleasant one for everyone? Especially for yourself?”

She nods.

“I DO love you. I’ve always loved you. I always will. Just...I don’t know...stop being such a shit. Stop being so…”

She grins up at him. “So you?”

“That sounds like your mother talking.”

‘Well, she IS really smart.”

“Be nice to her, okay? Because that is the love of my life. The mother of my kids. And no one treats her like that. She loves you. Don’t ever forget that. And I know you love her.”

“I do. I do love her.”

“Well why don’t you try telling her THAT once in a while? Because she’d rather hear that , than you saying you hate her. Get her some slack. She’s got a lot on her plate. And she’s trying really damn hard. If you’re still hungry, there’s leftovers in the fridge. And lots of ice cream. Candy cane crackle. Your favourite. It’s in the freezer in the basement. Don’t tell your mum I told her.”

Millie smiles. “Our little secret?”

“Our little secret.”

“I missed you, daddy. I was angry. That you left. You said you wouldn’t leave again. That there’d be no reason to. That once you became a boss, you wouldn’t have to.”

“I’ve left before. I’ve been gone a few times.”

“A few times in FIVE years. And this is the second time this year alone. And you promised. That you wouldn’t do that anymore. Go after bad people. You PROMISED.”

“I know. I know I did.”

“What if something happened? What if you really DID die this time? What then? It would just be us. Seven kids and mum. And that’s not fair. Especially to mum. She loves us, but she loves YOU too. And she shouldn’t have to do it alone.”

‘“You’re right. She shouldn't.” He takes a seat on the edge of the bed. “Is that what this is about? The way you’ve been behaving? Me being gone?”

“Some of it, I guess. I was mad. At you. But I missed you at the same time. You told us you’d never go back to it again; going after bad people. You said you were done with that. You promised mom. That you’d stay home.”

“And I have been. Staying home. It’s nothing like it was before.”

“But it still hurts her. Whether it’s once or twice a year. It still bugs her. Because she loves you and she’s worried about you. Why would you promise her stuff and then turn around and do the total opposite it? Why would you promise us stuff and not stick to it?”

“It needed to be done. Anil asked me to help out. He needed me.”

“WE need you. Mum needs you. Can’t he get someone else? He can find someone else. Mum can’t find another husband. We can’t find another dad. It would hurt us a lot more to lose you than it would hurt Anil.”

“I know it would. And I’m sorry. For leaving. If there was someone else or another way…”

“I don’t want you going away.” The tears finally come; large, hot tears that spill down tanned cheeks. “I don’t want you going away and dying. I don’t want to lose you. You’re my dad. I don’t want another dad.”

“Come here, Monkey. It’s okay. Come here.”

Tossing off the blankets, Millie scrambles out of bed; perching herself sideways on his lap and wrapping both arms around his neck.

“I’m so sorry, Millie.” He hasn’t used the nickname in over a year. At least not in her presence. Ever since his then ten year old daughter announced she was finished with it and just wanted to use her full name. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I didn’t mean to break my promise. And I’m sorry. That I did. I love you. I love you so much.”

“I love you, daddy. I don't want anything to happen to you. I don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t,” he promises, and presses a kiss to her temple; hand pressing down on the back of her head and drawing it down to his shoulder. Tightly holding her as she cries; letting her release all the tears and the pent up fear and worry and anger. Allowing her to cling to him; her sobbing turning into whimpers interspersed with loud sniffles.

Tightly and protectively holding her until body stills and her breathing slows and evens out. Not having the heart to let her go even long after she’s fallen asleep.

[i-write-shakespeare-not-disney]

Director’s Commentary- Lovesick Side Effects, Lance goes to church

my comments in bold <3

I deserve to be happy, so fuck you, Lance thought. Of course, he felt guiltier and even afraid for having thought it. 

Lance really wanted to get out of this place. A lot of this is based off of things I’ve thought and felt both in church and out. The fuck you was more whenever I end up in church in Mexico because everyone is so conservative there and I keep wondering if my family would still love me so much if they knew I like girls and I’d just stare, daring God to tell me I’m wrong for it when he made me this way. And I have thought that. I have told God “fuck you” in my head, and of course I feel horrible for it. I was raised loving Him, and being angry with Him feels horrible, and all because of what man does or says. 

“Lance?” Lance blinked and looked at his parents His father looked concerned. “Estas bien?” 

“Yeah.” Lance cleared his throat and followed his parents toward a pew, his eyes on the white looking Jesus on the cross, staring up in tired agony. He felt torn between anger and guilt, and he hated it. this is also a me moment. Going to church, the first thing I see is the cross and that look on Jesus’ face. And after thinking, wtf why is he white if he is from Jerusalem, I think of how hurt he looks. And how he did that for me. For everyone. And I feel shitty because I wonder if I’m worth it and then it just spirals and agh. So Lance’s anger and guilt here are a mix of each other. Like, he’s angry he feels guilty at all but he’s also feeling guilty for being angry and it’s such a complicated mold of the same emotion with no way out of it. 

His mom didn’t say anything to him, but she took his hand. Lance let her because it made him feel small again, that age when he still had to stand on the pew to see the altar, the priest. Lance let her because it felt like an anchor. It kept him from getting swept up in the tumult of contradicting emotions swirling inside of him, like his body was just a vessel for uncertainty and fear. 

The mass started, and Lance found himself humming along to familiar songs of praise, aleluyas and glorias falling from his lips when he recalled the words. He even realized he was whispering everything the priest said under his breath, his mouth reciting everything he’d memorized after years of worship. This part was meant to show just how strong Lance’s ties to the church were. And how the remnants of those ties are still there. 

Every time he came to mass the same questions filled his head. 

Why did you take her from me? Why did you kill her so young? She had more to give life. She deserved more. How can you call yourself an all-powerful God if you couldn’t save her? Where is she? Do you even exist? Does heaven or hell? These questions were based off some of my aunt’s after her grandfather (my greatgrandfather) died. She was very confused as to why bad things happen if God is supposed to be all powerful. Like, why can’t he just make things okay? Why should the good people suffer? And it’s so valid, especially in death. As for the heaven or hell, that comes from me. Because I can’t fathom an all forgiving God who would banish His children to hell. But then in that case is heaven real or can only a select few go? There’s so many questions and religion and faith don’t always let you ask them. 

Now, in addition to those questions, he had more. 

Why put Keith in my life if I wasn’t meant to fall for him? Why make me capable of feeling everything I feel for him if everyone says I’m not supposed to? Do you hate me? This was all me. Big time. I had a girlfriend and when I was in Mexico dealing with people asking me when I’d get a boyfriend, I imagined telling them I’m dating a girl (nonbinary, but I didn’t know how to explain that in spanish). And I distinctly remember this one moment I actually wrote into TNR where we were kissing and I looked at them and I thought, how can this amazing feeling, so pure and honest and full of affection ever be bad? How could it possibly be a sin? And how could God hate me when He is the one who granted me the blessing of being able to fall for anyone, of putting someone so kind in my path? IT DOESNT MAKE SENSE AND ITS FRUSTRATING BECAUSE YOU GET NO CONCRETE ANSWERS AHGHA so like, in this case, Lance hadn’t been bothered by these thoughts very much. But being in church just made him reevaluate and rethink everything. Not in the sense of doubt, but in the sense of why? how? It’s his past mixing with his present self. 

It was overwhelming. By the time they were giving the eucharist, Lance found himself on his knees, weak and tired, tears streaming down his face as his grief was renewed, as fear he hadn’t felt before overwhelmed him and anger for the grief and anger for the fear bubbled up in him. He wanted to stomp down the aisle and yell at that stupid cross, he wanted to scream and throw things until he was exhausted. Also from something I felt. At this point, Lance is partially praying, having a conversation with God, tired and just wishing he could burst, but he can’t. He’s in public. he’s with his family. He just needs reassurance.

Somewhere among the questions cycling in his head and tearing him apart, he found new questions, questions which begged for solace and help. 

Will my parents be okay with me? How do I tell them? How do I come back here without feeling like I’m falling apart each time? Do I even have the right to ask for your help? I wanted this part to indicate a shift in emotions. The anger is dissipating after he’s had a chance of screaming the accusations in his head, and now he’s just asking for help honestly. And as a religious person, in my head, this is because God is there. This shift, this slight change in Lance’s tone for his questions is God’s comfort. It’s God welcoming him back, assuring him that He can help, that Lance isn’t alone, that God never turned away from him. It’s Lance getting back in touch with that younger version of himself who would turn to God for almost everything. But also, there’s that guilt of am I even allowed to after being angry and turning my back?

A gentle tap on his shoulder made him jump as he wiped his face. He looked over his shoulder and saw a woman holding out a tissue in her hand. A gentle smile played on her face. Wordlessly, Lance took the tissue to blow his nose and wiped his tears with his jacket sleeves. So, this happened to me in church. I was falling apart and someone just tapped me and gave me a tissue and a smile. While it’s partially just people being kind, to me it felt like a sign. My abuelita always said God acts through us, and that moment, it felt like God was the one giving me the tissue and smiling at me. Because everything was gonna be okay and He still loves me. I wanted it to mean the same thing to Lance. Immediately after wondering if he has a right to ask God for help, he receives this act of kindness from a stranger, and it’s a sign for him too. It’s God saying, yes, you are allowed to come to me, I want you to come to me.

“Thank you,” he whispered. The woman smiled a little more and nodded before sitting back and closing her eyes. 

As Lance sat back down, his mom took his hand and held it even tighter. He leaned into her, having to crouch a bit because she was shorter. She wrapped an arm around him, hugging him tightly, and Lance shut his eyes. I think Lance just really needed affection at the moment. I didn’t have it at the time, and I needed it. Plus, I like to portray Lance’s mom as someone who can sense things. She doesn’t know for sure. She doesn’t know Lance is with someone much less that it might be a boy. But she knows something is hurting her son, and while she doesn’t want to pry and while her motherly instinct is to chastise him for not attending church, seeing him on his knees, praying and crying tends to come off to mothers and grandmothers as a symbol of God touching someone��s spirit through prayer. And that’s a private thing. It’s not something you ask about. At least that’s how my abuelita reacts to it. 

Mass was over shortly after and as they walked out, Veronica fell in step with Lance. “You okay, manito?” she asked softly. He shrugged. “If you wanna talk, you know I’m here. We can get coffee later to be alone.” 

Lance smiled at her. “Thanks, Vero." A reminder that Lance has someone to confide in. Someone who loves him and can help him. Maybe another person God is acting through? aha

Anyway, as you can see, I’m a religious person in the sense of how I was raised and my faith in God. Idk if I’m catholic exactly, but I believe in God and I turn to Him for help and I respect Him. If this wasn’t how you read the scene, I understand that, and of course, it can be up to the interpretation of the reader. But as the writer, I wanted to put my experience through and this is how it felt to me in that moment. 

[camomills]

Title: Next Time Pairing: Silica/Sinon Fandom: Sword Art Online Word Count: 2,431 Summary: Shino visits Keiko in a snowy day. One of them has to open up so the other can, too. Notes: Made for SAO Pride Week - Day 2: Trust. I’m a bit late in posting this due to a power outtage in my neighborhood. Thanks to @thegayfromrulid​ for beta reading.

AO3 Link

-

It was snowing outside.

Keiko patted inside the tall kitchen cabinet and her fingertips gathered dust brushing against the wooden cover. Feeling the cold metal surface of the can she looked for, she grabbed it and closed the door. Following into the next room, she was greeted by a small, fluffy creature that rubbed itself against her legs and purred softly.

“Are you really being affectionate or is it just the food?” She asked her cat and almost expected an answer.

She unsealed the can with the jagged opener, sneering at the unpleasant smell oozing from the container. She dumped the wet contents on the tiny bowl that read “Pina”. The feline’s ears bristled upwards as it gracefully walked to the pot, stuffing its face with the kind of gross-looking food.

There’s my answer, she thought.

Crouching, she caressed her pet’s head, a sigh of defeat escaping her mouth.

“You really are the worst kitty ever, you know?”

The cat continued to munch on the contents of the bowl, unfazed by her accusations. Stepping into the next room and slouching on the sofa in the living room, she stared at the ceiling for a while.

A few hours earlier, her parents had once again invited her to a family gathering, and once again, she’d refused.

She hated seeing her family. They asked too many questions about her time in the floating castle, too many inquiries of years she’d rather forget. She loathed seeing her relatives and the judging stares that they directed at her, and no amount of scolding about “her growing reputation as a shut-in” could change that or convince her to go.

Unsavory thoughts of her time in Aincrad swirled in her mind, but she quickly swatted them away. Letting those feelings fester for too long tended to give her headaches, and that wasn’t the time for–

The doorbell rang.

Her heart skipped a beat. She knew who stood behind the door – they were expected, after all, and there weren’t many people who would visit her dormitory, especially at this hour.

She walked to the door, somewhat anxious. Looking through the peephole, she saw the distorted image of a girl, her black hair tied with white ribbons on both sides of her face. The girl behind the door rubbed her palms together, hands bumping into her half-rimmed glasses as white smoke released from her mouth. The harsh December winter bit into her, leggings and coats and all, and it didn’t seem like the snowfall outside would stop any time soon.

Keiko opened the door, the cold wind sending the hairs of her nape on end. Some warmth from the house’s heater escaped through the entrance. Keiko, whose pigtails were so customary both in the real and in the virtual world they could as well be her trademark, wore her hair down, which gave her a slightly more mature air than her usual juvenile looks. The one-size-too-large sweater featuring a cartoonish goldfish over her chest seemed to act as a proper counterweight to that, though.

She couldn’t help but notice how comically burly Shino looked in her three-- four? layers of clothing. Her wool muffler hid the lower half of her face and she looked like a human spring roll.

Waving a hand, the visitor greeted: “Hello, Silica.”

“Come on in, Sinon,” the shorter girl replied with a smile, and Shino obliged.

The two picked up the nasty habit of calling each other by their avatar names in real life, but at that point, they just couldn’t help it. Their time together in the virtual world made these sound much more natural to say out loud.

Closing the door after entering the house, Shino untied the muffler around her neck and placed it on the makeshift hanger by the entrance, along with her coat. Keiko went ahead to the kitchen to start heating the tea. Taking off her boots before stepping into the hallway, a noise similar to a softly revving engine distracted the bespectacled girl.

As she saw Keiko awkwardly shooing the cat away from the kitchen, she realized the source of the noise.

“Oh.”

Slowly and warily, the furry source made its way to her.

Shino stood still, watching as the cat circled around her once, then brushed its white fur against her black leggings the second time around. She felt a mix of confusion and joy from the unexpected greeter.

**

Shino’s call earlier was a bit sudden.

“Is it okay if I visit you today?”

That was her simple request upon calling. Keiko had invited her to her house once before, and had no reason to decline, but she couldn’t help but notice something off about Shino’s voice; her tired tone, the light rasping, the subtle panic embedded into it.

“Are you alright?” she’d asked.

A weak “yeah” succeeding a short pause was all Shino said. Keiko didn’t push her.

Shino often felt a bit distant, like she’d prefer biting her own tongue off to opening up. A past of hurt had forced her to build walls around herself. Keiko didn’t know how to convey that desire, or even if it was her place to do so…

But she wanted to tear those walls down.

**

“Sorry for the wait,” Keiko said, entering the room.

She quickly directed her gaze down to the creature resting on Shino’s lap.

“It’s okay,” Shino deadpanned, pointing at Pina. “This little guy kept me company.”

Keiko wasn’t able to hold back the sheepish chuckles that escaped her mouth. Shino squinted at the sudden laughter.

“Sorry, sorry,” Keiko replied, shaking her head side to side. “You just said that so seriously!”

Shino scratched her cheek at the odd explanation, the hint of a smile making a way to her lips.

“I’m surprised, too. He generally doesn’t just approach people like that.”

As if on cue, the cat ran away from Shino’s leg pillow, darting back to the kitchen. At that, Keiko again seemed oddly amused, trying to hold back her joy at that simple event.

It wasn’t uncommon for Keiko to laugh at seemingly trivial matters, and albeit she’d never admit, the dark-haired girl found joy in being accidentally amusing in this way. She never found humor to be her forte. Keiko’s promptness for laughter seemed twofold whenever Shino was around – not that the girl knew that, obviously. She just assumed that was part of Keiko’s constantly cheery personality.

Finally setting the tray on the kotatsu, Keiko sat beside Shino, a tinge of nervousness prickling them both as she did so.

The guest took hold of the cup before her, warm ceramic heating cold hands, the lemony smell of honey revitalizing her body. She raised the drink to take a sip, feeling as the hot drink soothed her light shivering and a familiar taste stuck to her tongue.

The cup made a dull sound as it was gently set on the table, a tense silence filling the room for several seconds. Keiko was the one to break it.

“So, is everything okay with you? Anything you wanted to talk about?”

Shino averted her gaze down to her cup, inviting silence once more. She swirled the contents of her mug, avoiding eye contact as she thought on how to answer.

“Nothing in particular. You mentioned I should come visit a couple of weeks ago, and today just happened to be a good day for me. You said something about a movie last time I was here?”

“Ah, I see! That uh, that makes sense.”

Her voice seemed clearer than during her call, but something still seemed off. Failing at getting a read on her again, Keiko pursed her lips.

Maybe this is none of her business. Maybe she should just watch a movie with her friend, and stop being so nosy…

Unsure or whether or not to push further, she took the laptop by the side of the table and opened it, both of them staring at the screen as Keiko tried to remember the name of a movie she mentioned in passing weeks ago.

It might be how long it’s been, or that she only brought it up because she wanted to watch it with the girl next to her, or, perhaps more likely, how worried she is about her friend right now, but she struggles with the name.

Catching a whiff of the scent of the tea again, she remembers – both the name of the movie and something else.

“You know,” Keiko started as she began her typing, “I have trouble sleeping sometimes. Nightmares.”

Shino turned back to her, shoulders instinctively tensing upon seeing Keiko’s melancholic smile.

“Ever since I had to leave home and come to Tokyo, well, I was– am, a bit scared. I barely left the house back then, and then the SAO incident happened, and then, just when I thought things would be normal again… The only school that would accept me was hours from home, and I had to move here by myself, away from my family, and they blame me for it, somehow.”

She said that with a cheery expression, along with a cracked voice that unmasked her grief.

Keiko knows this is a bit sudden, and maybe somewhat awkward, but she doesn’t know how else to get through to her.

Shino stared at her speechless for a second before nodding, prompting her to continue.

"And so every night since, I feel this… guilt that makes me want to hurl,” she continued, clasping her hands in a cute, unfitting way.

Shino felt an urge to reach out to the girl next to her to comfort her, but something inside herself stopped her, wouldn’t let her. She simply clenched her fists.

“But,“ Keiko continued, “you told me about this blend of tea, a couple of months ago, I think? And I know this is silly, but ever since I started trying it a while before bed it’s been better.”

Shino wore a puzzled expression hearing this. Keiko continued, a bit fidgety.

“Uh, well, not a lot better? Just not as bad! I mean, it’s just tea. And I mean, I know this is silly,” she stammered, “but I guess it helped. Tea sounds like one of those silly things people who don’t really… get it recommend, but there was something about it, small as it was, that helped me shuffle a little less in my sleep. So,” she sounded a bit embarrassed saying the last part, “it’s like you helped me, in a way.”

Keiko put her hand over Shino’s, amber eyes uncharacteristically piercing as she stared the sniper down, a firm, reassuring squeeze draped over Shino’s knuckles.

“Now, I get the feeling you asked to come here for a reason. Because you had something troubling you.”

A short silence followed, and Shino just stared, perhaps a little more stoic than intended.

“… And I guess, I want to help you, too?”

She thought it was a bit embarrassing making her comfort pitch following a talk about the magical wonders of tea for anxiety, but at the same time she couldn't think of anything better to say. She just figured opening up first would be the best route there.

Keiko started fumbling, scratching her neck awkwardly.

"W-well, not that it’s uh, my place to say any of that, or like you have to talk to me about anything! I’m just rambling here, really! Haha!”

Shino laughed sheepishly as Keiko’s ears turn pink through her clarification, and a small “it’s fine, it’s fine,” is all she said before going back to silence. Given a moment, she grasped Keiko’s hand in return, her calm voice breaking the silence.

“I get nightmares too,” she confessed. “And, honestly, I’m afraid of being alone with my thoughts for too long, being all by myself in my apartment.” She fiddled with her fingers a bit, as if to focus on something keep herself talking.

“I guess I just wanted to hear someone’s voice. Be with someone for a while. You were one of the first people who came to mind, really.”

Sinon thought back to a few months ago – before BoB, before meeting Kirito, before meeting Silica and his other friends, and she can’t imagine herself being so frank to someone like this. The fog in her mind that tried to close others off seemed thinner. Easier to navigate through, if only slightly.

Keiko wasn't quite sure how to react at first. She just squeezed the other girl’s hand tighter; to remind her that she’s there. She’s a little surprised Shino puts enough trust in her to tell her this – honored, in a way. She felt a prickling in her eyes that threatened to turn into tears, but she knew that wasn’t the time.

“I’m, I’m glad, that I can be a person like that for you. I understand how it can be, to feel like you can’t talk about these thoughts with anyone, but…”

She moves her face closer to Shino’s.

“… You don’t have to, you know. If you’re okay with me.”

Keiko took note of how smitten Shino’s gaze looked at her, and finally noticed their faces were almost touching. Both girls’ cheeks tinted with a faint red at that moment, hearts skipping the same beat.

Shino quickly averted her gaze from Keiko’s, who in turn chuckled at the display of bashfulness that seemed more and more common for the girl she once perceived as a cold markswoman.

A wandering hand reached out from behind Shino’s neck to her shoulder, gently pulling her closer to the girl sitting next to her. The warmth brought her a sense of tranquility.

“You don’t have to be so shy about those things next time, you know,” Keiko’s soft voice explained.

“I’ll keep that in mind… next time,” Shino replied warmly, the last part uttered with a certain longing to it. She playfully bumped her shoulder against Keiko’s.

Shino leaned in closer and laid her head against Keiko’s shoulder, making herself comfortable as they finally started the movie waiting on the nearby laptop’s screen.

They didn’t know how much time they had to be like that, hands interwoven under the heated table, cozily leaning onto each other. They did know that then, however, nothing could touch them – the swirling white cold dancing through the biting winter winds outside, the expectations of judging relatives, the foreboding loneliness of an empty apartment. That small dormitory, with its small laptop, was their bunker, offering them the chance to be together.

When they were together. Those were the moments they could allow their worries to melt away like driven snow.

[green-eyeddragonfanfiction]

Time: Chapter 16

Summary: Soulmate!AU/Reincarnation!AU. Female!Reader lives in a world where alien invasions threaten Earth, hordes of death robots destroy entire  towns and past lives and soulmates are very real. Like most people, she gets brief glimpses of her past. Although a person’s past lives and their current life may have little to nothing in common, soul mates tend to transfer between lives, the core of a person staying the same throughout the eons. Bucky is back with the team and it’s only a matter of time before things explode between the three of you. Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader, Steve Rogers x Female!Reader Warnings: Language, angst, fluff, mentions of torture Word Count: ~2,265 A/N: And we’re done, boys. As always, thanks for joining me on this adventure.

Masterlist // Previous Chapter

“What the fuck.”

You and Steve hastily broke apart and Steve stepped aside to reveal the source of the outburst, but you didn’t need him to. You’d recognize that voice anywhere.

Bucky stood on the porch, just on the other side of the door, looking between you and Steve in numb shock.

“Bucky,” you breathed. Seeing him there made it feel like your heart was being torn apart all over again.

Bucky looked between you and Steve, shock plain as day on his face.

Steve stared at you, watching you closely, looking for any signs of a breakdown.

He didn’t have to wait long.

What he hadn’t been expecting, however, was the anger... or for it to come from Bucky.

“What the hell, Steve?!” Bucky roared as he grabbed Steve’s shoulder and spun him to face him. “What the hell was that?!” he demanded, gesturing between you and Steve with his other hand.

You watched on in numb shock, brain struggling to process what was happening.

Steve grimaced, eyes glued to the ground. “Bucky, I’m sorry. I was going to tell you but-”

“But what, Steve? You didn’t want to tell me you’re with the girl I love? Again?” Bucky spat. Steve looked up, torn, at Bucky’s words, heart twisting guiltily.

There it was. 90 years of Bucky’s pain laid bare for all to see.

You were so distraught you didn’t catch the second question or its implications. You couldn’t, however, stay quiet anymore.

“You fucking left, Bucky. You lied to me about who you were for months! But I could have forgiven that if you told me the truth yourself! But then you really fucked up. We were happy together, and then you left! You left me! All alone!” you yelled. Both Steve and Bucky had frozen in place at your outburst, heads turning to look at you; both wearing matching looks of hurt, shock, and, in Bucky’s case, guilt.

Bucky dropped his hand from Steve’s shoulder, turning to face you, eyes pleading. “Dollface, I’m so, so sorry. I couldn’t risk hurtin’ you. I could have turned at any moment... if I hurt you, I’d never forgive myself. I had to watch you die once and I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I had to again, especially if I was the one-” his words died in his throat and he swallowed thickly, eyes swimming with emotion.

“You can’t hate him for leaving to keep you safe, (Y/N)... you did it to me for years,” Steve said quietly. Your gaze snapped to his and just then you could see all the pain and hurt you’d caused him by staying away all those years before he went back into cryo.

Bucky looked to Steve, shocked, not expecting that defense of his actions; he knew how hard it must have been for Steve to agree to his selfish demands.

You looked at him with wide, sorrowful eyes. “Steve, I-... It was a mistake. I’m sorry. I just.... I couldn’t...” you looked to your feet, wringing your hands together guiltily.

“What is it, Doll?” Steve asked quietly, taking a step towards you. Bucky’s gaze flicked from you to Steve and back again warily.

When a tear fell from your cheek and plummeted to the ground, they both stepped forward, alarmed.

“Doll?” Bucky murmured worriedly. “Sweetheart?” Steve echoed.

“I couldn’t tell you the truth, Stevie,” you whispered, voice tight.

They both froze, hands outstretched, and glanced at each other, neither one comprehending the weight of your words.

You looked up at the both of them, tears streaming freely down your face as you tried to keep yourself from sobbing. “There were two reasons why I didn’t contact you once I knew you were back, Steve. One was to keep you safe, like I told you,” you choked out.

Steve nodded, expression kind but confused. “I know that, Sweetheart, but-”

“I love you,” you said, cutting across the rest of his question as you stepped forward and placed a messy, desperate kiss to his lips.

Bucky’s jaw clenched at the sight, eyes dulling as he looked away. He knew this pain, but oh how it hurt. He’d forgotten the sting. It hurt so much more now that he knew what it felt like to kiss you; hold you; make love to you.

You broke away, eyes locked onto his blue ones. “But I need to tell you the truth,” you murmured, determination in your voice capturing both Steve and Bucky’s attention completely.

Slowly, so slowly, you lifted your hands up in front of you. Ever since you met Steve and Bucky (Grant) in person you were careful to always keep it hidden. For years it caused you nothing but pain and grief. You thought it was just a cruel joke played on you by an uncaring god. But you couldn’t lie anymore. Not to yourself. Not to Steve. Not to Bucky.

The boys looked confused at first but as soon as your fingers ghosted against the ends of the silky ribbon that hid your soul brand, they tensed, apprehensive. You turned your wrist so that the inside was facing them and carefully untied the knot.

The ribbon fluttered to the ground, landing silently at your feet, but all attention was focused on the three letters that were permanently etched into your skin.

There, in neat cursive letters, were the initials “J.B.B.”

Both Steve and Bucky stared at them, reading them over again and again as though they couldn’t believe their eyes.

The three of you stood there, frozen, for what could have been seconds, minutes, hours, or days. You wouldn’t have been able to tell.

It was Bucky who spoke up first.

“But... that’s impossible,” he murmured, not daring to believe his eyes.

“Soulmates don’t change,” Steve agreed, looking from you to the brand and back again in mingled shock and horror.

“But two people having the same soul mate isn’t supposed to be possible, either,” Bucky muttered, looking between you and Steve, a mix of emotions on his features.

“What?” you asked, dumbfounded.

Steve glanced at Bucky, silent conversation taking place that you could only guess at.

Steve explained. “In your last life. We... Bucky and I... we both had your initials for our soul brand,” Steve said, glancing at his friend guiltily as though it was his own fault fate had dealt Bucky a cruel hand.

You looked between them, hand dropping to your side. “You... what?” you asked, completely dumbfounded.

“You were my soulmate, but I wasn’t yours,” Bucky said quietly, eyes downcast as he recalled the painful memories.

There had to be some mistake. Things like that didn’t happen... but the initials on your wrist made you believe it to be true.

But... what had changed? Why were you born with J.B.B. on your wrist and not S.G.R.?

You sunk to your knees and it was a testament to how shaken the boys were that they didn’t try to catch you. “This is so fucked,” you said quietly, shocked beyond tears. Soulmates were supposed to be amazing, timeless, pure. This was horrible and painful.

Bucky mistook your meaning, heart shattering at your words. You didn’t want him; didn’t want his initials on your wrist. And he didn’t blame you. He was a broken, flawed man who didn’t deserve your love. Steve was better for you in every way. He didn’t even have a wrist with initials anymore; they’d been on his left wrist.

“You don’t have to worry about me, Doll,” he said quietly, picking up his bag that he’d dropped when he’d confronted Steve. “Forget about those letters on your wrist. We all know you’re supposed to be with Stevie. Always have, always will,” he said, forcing a smile to his face, though he couldn’t look you in the eyes. Saying the words hurt worse than any wound he’d ever gotten, but your happiness was more important. “I think I’m going to go into hiding on my own for a while-” he turned to leave, but was stopped by a firm grip on his wrist.

You looked up, riddled with anxiety at the thought at him leaving, but Steve had stopped him for you.

“Put the bag down,” Steve said quietly but firmly.

“Please let me go, Steve. I barely deserved to be around you two when I was a whole man, much less now,” Bucky whispered, not able to look Steve in the eyes.

“Just trust me, jerk,” Steve murmured, eyes pleading. “Give me two minutes and if you still feel the same way by the end of them, you can go. I won’t stop you,” he said sadly but determinedly.

Bucky looked at him then, eyes dull, but nodded after seeing the look in his friend’s eyes. Besides, leaving the two of you was hard enough as it was; he couldn’t deny a request like that from Steve.

He set his bag on the floor and you watched with morbid curiosity.

“Take the jacket off,” Steve said resignedly. When Bucky gave him a confused look, he sighed. “Please.”

Bucky complied, albeit while giving Steve suspicious stares, until he was left only in the white tank top from the hospital.

Once it was off Bucky placed it on top of the bag and shrugged, hands up as if to say “what next?”

Steve turned to you, though, extending a hand. “C’mere Doll,” he said quietly.

You were confused, but took his hand anyway. Once you were on your feet, he led you around Bucky until you were at his back. Bucky’s head was turned so that he could see the both of you out of the corner of his eye, but he otherwise remained still.

Steve stopped and looked from Bucky to you expectantly.

You looked from Bucky to Steve, a look of even deeper confusion lining your face. “I don’t...”

Steve sighed, nudging you closer to Bucky, and moved the back of the tank top to the side to reveal more of the skin just beyond the scarring where flesh met metal. Bucky tensed at Steve’s touch, but otherwise remained still

You gave another confused look to Steve and he gave you a pointed look, gesturing towards Bucky’s back with a tilt of his head.

You turned to Bucky, eyes squinting as you studied his back. Steve seemed to think-

Your heart stuttered a beat or two in your chest and you took another step forward until you were right behind Bucky, fingers dancing lightly over his skin. You didn’t see the way he shivered against your touch, shoulders relaxing slightly; you were too busy soaking in the letters just on the edge of the scarred skin.

There, in elegant, loopy writing, were your own initials. Your fingers traced over them fervently and it was enough to get Bucky to turn his head as much as he could to look at you, confusion lining his face.

“What’s-”

“My initials,” you said quietly, awestruck.

“What?” Bucky asked, clearly thinking he’d misheard.

“My initials. My initials are on your back, just at the edge of the scars.”

It wasn’t that surprising you hadn’t seen it before; it nearly blended in with the lines of the scars, small and unsuspecting as it was. Not to mention Bucky normally kept his torso hidden beneath layers of shirts.

Bucky tried to crane his neck to see, but couldn’t.

“How did you know, Steve?” you murmured, staring at the three little letters in awe.

“I saw them today when I was in Wakanda. I didn’t think much of it then... You’ve always been Bucky’s soulmate, but after...” he trailed off, not needing to finish his sentence.

After I revealed Bucky’s initials on my brand, he knew he had to say something.

“I... I want to see it,” Bucky said quietly still practically dislocating his neck trying to see you and his soul brand.

You fished your burner phone out of your pocket and snapped a quick picture, handing the phone to him a half second later. He stared at it for a long time, reaching out to touch it reverently it before he realized it was a touch screen. He zoomed in on it, breathing uneven.

Never in his wildest dreams-

“We’re soulmates,” you said quietly, causing Bucky to turn around and look at you, shock clear on his face.

Steve smiled sadly, taking a step away from the two of you.

“You two have a lot to talk about. I’m going to leave you to-”

“No.” you and Bucky said at the same time.

Steve froze mid-step, gaze snapping to the two of you in confusion.

You looked to Bucky and saw the same emotions and thoughts there that you knew were reflected in your own eyes.

“No?” he asked slowly, confusion and apprehension lining his features.

“I’m not letting what happened to me happen to you, punk,” Bucky said as he crossed his arms, stubbornness exuding from every pore.

“We’re going to have a talk. Together,” you insisted, reaching out to grab Steve’s hand. You tugged him towards you and he let himself be dragged. You engulfed him in a hug once he was in range and it wasn’t a surprise to you when you felt Bucky’s strong arms wrap around the both of you. “Because no matter what happens, you’re my boys and I love you both.”

“We love you too, Dollface,” came their replies, both emotional voices muffled as they buried their faces in your hair.

You smiled into their embrace. Yes, everything would be okay as long as you were together.

The End

This series is finished, but if you want to be tagged in my other fics, check out this post! Sorry, but responses to this post asking to be tagged will be ignored, so send me an ask or like one of the taglist posts!

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[sl-walker]

Something with Dani in GofT: Alderaan? +hat in hands+

“I swear, it’s just a visit.”

Maul eyed Dani, arms crossed, and squinted in naked (if quite good-hearted) suspicion.  (Naked in terms of emotions; he was, in fact, still fully clothed.)  “No cases?  No I-apprehend-criminals-wherever-I-land moments?”

Dani chuckled, shaking her head, the tumble of dark-and-blue curls sliding against her shoulders. “I promise, no chaos.  Just me, taking a mini-vacation, to indulge in some charming company.  And maybe some hiking?”

Maul could have kicked himself for what came out of his mouth next: “Just hiking?”

Dani eyed him up and down and bit her lip, and in that blindingly enlightening moment, Maul suddenly understood why both Bail and Bre tended to start undressing him with their eyes whenever he did that.  “Welllll,” she said, then grinned at him with her eyebrows jumping, “I wouldn’t mind getting close to the ground.  With the queen’s permission, of course.”

After a moment of staring at her, Maul twitched his head to the side once, trying to process how the hell he was even interested in that prospect, then turned around to walk right back out. “That’s something you’ll have to take up with her,” he said, tossing it back over his shoulder.

If he did happen to throw a bit more of a roll into his gait, though, showing off–

Well, he could facepalm about it later.

--

--

It wasn’t as if Bail and Bre hadn’t discussed it.  Most of the discussion seemed to center on the fact that both of them had gotten to play the metaphorical field in their lives and Maul had not.  He had gone from being essentially a slave, to entirely a convict, to a disaster of dissociated depression, to slow recovery and equally slowly winding his way quite thoroughly into the hearts of House Organa, and by the time he did have the mental health to even be interested in sex, he was eighteen.

And by the time he had the courage to go after what he wanted – which was Bail, and not just in body – he had been twenty.

This never bothered Maul and honestly, it still didn’t.  He loved them.  He wanted them.  They loved him, they wanted him.  It was both that simple and that complicated, all at once.  It had taken him about two years to fall for Bail and two more to act on it; it had taken him about a year and a half to fall for Bre and turn what had been a close, intimate friendship into a sexual relationship.  He’d never even looked at anyone else in that manner before, and he still didn’t.  It just didn’t occur, not even when he was playing up his own sex-appeal for whichever purpose there was and thereby attracting a great deal of attention from many others.

Dani tended to throw all things into disarray, apparently, especially when her eyes went black.

It didn’t help matters that he liked her.  Not even in the manner of attraction, but in the manner of recognizing someone who was, at heart, kind and honorable both and who lived life open to the experience.  She had a wonderful laugh and a sweet smile, and Maul supposed if he ever experimented outside of his quite stable and happy relationship with Bail and Bre, he could do far, far worse than Dani Faygan.

Of course, even if he was willing to tentatively test the waters there, he certainly wouldn’t do so without permission.

“She came all the way to Alderaan to see you?” Bre asked, tipping her chin down and eying Maul over a pair of imaginary glasses.

“I doubt she came back to see me.  More likely to see Meg.”  Maul palmed down his face, then recrossed his arms, feeling more awkward than he knew what to do with. “I’m probably little more than a diversion, Dove.”

Breha raised an eyebrow at that, leaning back in her office chair. “Maul, you’re a lot of things, but never just a diversion.”  Her face went a little more serious, then. “I’m not in any hurry to share you with just anyone, but she seems to genuinely like you.  And you like her back.  And if, by chance, you end up testing the waters…” she trailed off and shrugged.  Then, apparently realizing that Maul definitely wanted something more solid than that to go on, she smiled and shook her head. “You have my permission.  Just let me give her the shovel talk first, and don’t do anything you’re not one hundred percent comfortable with.”

Maul spent a moment wondering what a shovel talk was, but then he was too busy having something of an internal panic attack at the thought that Bre just gave him permission to sleep with someone else.

He probably looked about as dazed as he felt, walking back out of her office, given the way she was chuckling after him.

--

--

Obi-Wan was no help.

Maul had run into him on accident on the way to track down Bail and see what he thought of all of this, and when Obi-Wan asked after him, seemingly worried, Maul had poured out an explanation while pacing back and forth.

Obi-Wan had gaped back, mouth working soundlessly, and then he’d left.  He didn’t say a word, no wisdom, no advice, nothing.  He just walked away.

(Maul didn’t happen to see the way the Jedi turned back once, face a confused mix of longing and envy.)

--

--

Putting themselves back together after that sniper’s bolt hadn’t come easily; it took time and care and work.  It took Bail figuring himself out (and talking to a therapist about how he processed grief); it took Maul learning all over again how to ignore the whispers in his head speaking of abandonment and fear and loss, which had thrown his self-confidence into such a downward spiral that he still hadn’t quite found his feet the same way again.

If there had been any less trust or love there, they might never have made it back.

Despite the scars, though, both physical and emotional, they were at least in that place together.  Healed and healing, and able to laugh again.  Capable of silliness and no longer flinching at the mere idea of allowing themselves to be happy.  Not untouched by the whole thing – Bre’s miscarriages, their loved and lost children, the months of being adrift and hurting and seeing no way out, the soul-crushing guilt that Bail and Maul both had harbored over it – but come out the other side of it intact and holding firm to the foundation under it all, uncracked.

Unsurprisingly, it was only really in Bail’s arms that Maul was able to settle down enough to think clearly about it all.

“I’m not against it on principle or anything, love,” Bail said, broad hand sweeping a steady, soothing path from the back of Maul’s neck to the top of his tailbone and up again. “But it doesn’t seem like you’re that keen on the idea.”

“I don’t know what I am.”  That was a little muffled, but Maul wasn’t in any kind of hurry to pull his face away from Bail’s chest.  “She’s–”  he started, then when he didn’t know how to finish, he raised his hand to wave it once, before just resting it back over Bail’s heart again.

“She’s beautiful.  And smart.  Graceful.  Sweet.  Funny.”  Bail was grinning, evident in his voice. “Reminds me of someone else who makes the color red look so good.”

Maul scoffed back, though he also felt that little glow of pride at the same time. “I don’t know how much of it’s actual attraction or– or that empathic resonance, I– kriff, Bail, I don’t know.  I don’t want to stumble into– into something that drowns me, or–”

Or something that hurts.

He didn’t need to say it; Bail went from petting him to squeezing on him and they just stood there for long moments, lost in the easy comfort of one another.

When Bail did speak, it was considered and warm, “I think you should take the pretty lady hiking.  Flirt if you want, but don’t even think about anointing any trails or anything.  See if it gets more comfortable and less anxiety-provoking, and then we’ll negotiate permission, if it comes to that.”

Having that particular weight taken off his shoulders, temporarily or not, was enough to make Maul’s knees quiver.  He let out a slow breath, sagging a bit more against Bail and then gave a nod. “All right.”

--

--

Hiking, Maul could do.

He never got tired of being out there, in the mountains or in the trees, or roaming broad and grassy valleys.  Never got tired of following the game trails that ran alongside of the rivers, letting the marsh grasses that grew on the banks trail through his fingers.  There was science, but there was also just– this.  Alderaan, in all of her beauty, wearing the colors of seasons.  He could feel it down to the marrow of his bones; what times Maul left, he was usually quick to come back, homesick not only for his family, but for his world.

Thus, he put on his basic hiking clothes, with his worn but well-loved and cared for boots, slung his pack over his shoulder and went to take Dani hiking.  If flirting happened, then it would happen; if it looked to go beyond that, then he would step back behind Bail’s line and they could discuss it later.

But for now, he could show her the world that he loved.

It seemed like a good start.

[cat-the-dragon]

This Last Thing I Could Do For You

I guess most of my followers already read  Even Now We Feel The Shape Of Your Absence, that I’d posted partly because of @camsthisky​, and partly because of the @nanowrimo​.

This time, I’m blaming @chibinightowl​ for inspiring me to write this prequel (still meant to be read after the other one), both her and @comicroute​ beta-ed for me, so thanks to them

Read on Ao3

-The opening of the Will is scheduled at 19:00 this Monday in the Batcave.-

Jason stared at the message. The Will. Whose will? In the Batcave, a will was being read.

It had been sent by Barbie's Oracle number, so the probability of a prank was in negative percentages.

One of the Bats had died, and Jason hadn't been told. He’s always the last one to hear about these things.

Oh, god, what if it was Alfred?

Hands just barely not trembling, Jason typed his reply. -Who died- No question mark, somehow, it seemed more disrespectful than sending a message without proper punctuation.

-Red Robin- Came back ten seconds later.

Jason stared at the two words. He'd expected relief if it wasn't Alfred, but learning it was the kid he still held a grudge against without a proper reason was actually worse.

Jason arrived at the Cave at 7 pm sharp on Monday. He was there for the Will, not to socialize.

He'd had the time to look up what had happened.

It had been surprisingly easy.

Red Robin Death and Red Robin Suicide were all over the internet. There was a shaky cell-phone video of the hero hurling to the ground and going splat that had gone viral enough that even the Bats couldn't seem to get rid of it, and then dozen of witness declarations on diverse discussion boards.

The report he'd hacked on the Batcomputer said that Red Robin's gear had been in perfect working order, he didn't seem to have suffered any head injury before the fall, and his blood tox screening came back perfectly clear.

So.

Suicide.

Somehow Jason felt bad.

He wondered if he'd had anything to do with Repla- Tim's decision.

Dickster had told him, "Tim was your greatest fan. I saw him talking to your Memorial Case in the cave, Jay."

He wondered. Would things be different if he'd actually apologized for beating the kid up on top of Titan’s Tower and shooting him that time?

Jason knew how much having a role-model betray you hurt, and he'd been the one who did that to Tim, hadn't he? Would he have gone suicidal if Bruce systematically went after him with the intention to cause maximum harm instead of just reactively hurting him?

Who was he kidding, Jason was already a bit opportunistically suicidal even with just the status-quo at hand.

He didn't have the time to dwell more, because the big screen flickered with a video as soon as Bruce saw him arrive. (He was the last one, good.)

"Hey," the costumed and masked Red Robin on the screen started. "Seeing the probability of me dying, on or off the field, I figured I should make a vigilante version of my will. That way I can get into the type of questions that definitely couldn't be stated or explained on the civilian one that I left with the lawyer."

The Tim on the screen (not the one resting under a sheet in a refrigerated dome in the medbay that Jason had only glimpsed so far) turned a bit more somber. "I gave this video to Oracle. I figured a video would be the easier to confirm as genuine and not forced. The instructions were to get everyone possible to open it, but do it within two days at most, even if some were missing. That way you have a forewarning of my preferences before you start sorting my civilian death."

"Good bye everyone. B, if you are watching this alone because you couldn't wait for the others, or got nosy and I'm still alive while you see this, I'm very disappointed in you, close this video immediately!" Red Robin made a stern frowny face, and despite the solemn atmosphere in the cave, a ripple of amusement ran through the assembled heroes.

Jason for his part stomped down on his matching laugh to shoot Bruce a suspicious look. Did he tense? Had he actually tried it?

"So, I guess first off are my cases... I pre-made an override command in all my digital systems that will transfer everything to my old Robin session in the Batcomputer. I tend to use informatics a lot, so there should be everything you need on it to finish whatever I am doing at the moment of my death. It might be time sensitive, so I hid the transfer key in the Batcave, you'll find it under the detachable R emblem of my first Robin design in the display cave. It's a microchip, you might need a couple of minutes to find it, then connect under my old session and launch the program that pops up, it'll do everything on it's own. DO NOT fiddle with the code or launch it from anything but my old session on the Batcomputer, it'll destroy all my data. That's a very safeguarded override."

"Even then, some things are password protected. I put the list of encrypted passwords and corresponding files under the passenger side floor-mat of the Batmobile. Red Hood's Batmobile." Probably the one he boosted the tires from what feels like a lifetime ago. Good concealment of information in case an enemy got the Will on Tim's part, that.

"The encryption key is written on a post it note in Nightwing's favorite book from when he was still wearing the disco suit." Jason shot a look at Dick, who had a pensive expression on, trying to remember, surely.

"Legacy comes next, I guess? Red Robin was Hood's so if he wants to take it back now that I'm dead he can, I'd rather you didn't give it to D-Robin or any youngster after me, though. It’s not been around long enough to absolutely need to get passed down, and frankly, if I die in it, it would be a pretty unlucky omen for the next one.”

And that doused the little bit of levity that seeing a sassy Red Robin had introduced. Jason couldn’t help but sneak a glance at the sheet covered exam table.

Talk about unlucky.

One thing was sure, Jason would not be donning Red Robin again, thank you.

“The map of all my personal safe houses should be in the download with my cases, feel free to help yourselves to them or my gear. I mean all of you, no one gets to claim everything for themselves without asking the others if they want it.”

“Now my other Will also says this, but I wish to be cremated. And if possible not have all the ashes at the same place. I know it is tempting to forego it and wish for another miraculous resurrection like for J. But considering the interest Ra’s has been paying me, I really, really prefer not to run any risk of him ever getting his hands on my corpse.”

Tim looked at the camera fixedly. “I know what you’re thinking, B. You’re thinking you could protect my grave. Don’t. You’re not immortal, Ra’s is. What about fifty years from now? Will you still be able to protect my grave then? I prefer not to run the risk, so please respect my wishes on this.”

Bruce got up abruptly and stormed off.

Jason shot a venomous glare at his back.

He couldn’t even handle that? Tim had definitely been low balling that one because Bruce’s ability to protect graves? BULLSHIT. He hadn’t even noticed him vacating his.

Tim spoke for a couple more minutes. Minor things about who could have what, and his wish not to get a memorial case in the Batcave, and what to give to the Titans. There were instructions about keeping an eye on his teammates, especially Superboy, right after his death. He  offset that by saying he made a will for the Titans too and that they would know what he wanted them to do after he died.

There weren’t person by person messages for the Bats, Tim apparently treated them as a single entity, or he’d made a series of personal messages independently from the general one.

Jason wasn’t paying much attention by the time the screen went black, because his mind had gotten stuck on Tim’s demand for a cremation. He understood that all too well. And more importantly, Bruce’s reaction to it.

Was he getting paranoid?

This suspicion, that Bruce storming off might be because he wanted to falsify the civilian will, stuck with him though.

Would Bruce be that much of an asshole?

What a question.

Yes, yes he would. When Bruce thought he knew best, he steamrolled everyone to force his version of ‘the best thing to do’, disregarding everyone’s logical reasons or emotions.  Jason actually wondered if he was even aware people other than him routinely had feelings.

He looked around himself at the other Bats in the cave. Bruce wasn’t hiding anywhere he could see, but everyone else lingered, making clusters, crying, or noticeably being in the process of not-crying.

Damian was standing stock still, staring at the screen vacantly, obviously still deep in shock or denial.

Everyone else was mixed bags. They had seen death so often that they skipped entire stages of grief all the time, though for that one, Jason did foresee everyone getting bogged down on guilt floor for ages. He knew he would.

Suicides had the tendency to do that to surviving families after all.

Resigned to the idea of having to be the bad guy, Jason stalked past Blondie crying in the arm of a very stiff Cassandra and stopped in front of Barbara.

She extracted her blotchy face from Dick’s abs and sniffed. “What do you want?” she asked coldly.

“Where is B?”

Dick snarled, jumping over the wheelchair to put himself between Barbara and Jason. “Now is not the time to be petty. Tim is dead! He... He’s dead, he’s not coming back, he’s dead!”

So he was the bad guy. He was okay with it but as the one who’d gotten royally fucked by a Lazarus Pit, he’d given himself the mission to ensure Red Robin was burned the way he asked to. Being the good guy or the bad guy was not important. Keeping Bruce from disrespecting his third Robin’s wishes was.

So he said the bad guy’s thing. “Yes, he’s dead. And he wanted to stay that way and not become a Lazarus puppet like me, so I really hope I am wrong in my suspicions, but I need to know where Bruce is to be sure of that.”

Barbara stared at him around Dick, wide eyed. “He wouldn’t.”

“Right. And he wouldn’t label my memorial with ‘a good soldier’ either, then?” Jason spat back.

“This isn’t about you!” Dick yelled.

“No, it isn’t!” Jason bellowed back, agry to be accused of making Red Robin’s death about him. “It’s about Tim wanting to be cremated and Bruce going missing after the unofficial Will stated part of the content of the official one that’s with a lawyer. A part Bruce doesn’t like. How well can a law office hold up to the Batman?”

“How dare you suggest… You hateful!” Dick was losing steam. And the whole cave was deathly silent except for the unhappy rustle of disturbed bats on the ceiling. Everyone was staring at them. “...Spiteful… You!”

“Prove me wrong, then.” Jason gestured to the computer. “Tell me where Bruce is.”

Barbara blew out a loud breath. “I so hope you are wrong.” She wheeled herself to the console, letting Dick try to protect empty air.

“So do I.” Jason stood tall, arms crossed next to Barbara as she chillingly narrated her finds. No missing cars or bikes. Jason pointed that Bruce had gone up the stairs in his Batman costume. She gritted her teeth and looked for him on the video surveillance.

Dick was staring at him like he was a monster. And frankly, he would give his right hand to be wrong, but someone had to doubt the Bat, and if no one else would, Jason would be that person. He infinitely prefered being wrong and looking like the a heartless monster at Tim’s will reading, than be right but not speaking up and seeing Bruce prove himself to be the inconsiderate asshole once more.

“No,” Barbara whispered. “No.”

Jason squeezed his eyes shut. Shit. The pinpoint that represented Bruce was heading straight for Gotham. Which wasn’t that bad per-se. Maybe he was planning to beat some poor schmucks up to make himself feel better, but as far as disproving his fears went, it wasn’t great. (The fact that he had gone out in full Batman from the Manor’s entrance and apparently decided to go by foot wasn’t saying great things about his state of mind either.)

He stood still and silent, watching Bruce move on the map. Waves of murmurs floated around as some of the Bats left for their patrol and others watched along with Dick, Barbara and Jason.

When Bruce made it to the block of Tim’s lawyer, Jason decided to fuck the benefit of the doubt and stop dawdling.

His plan was already forming as he turned away from the computer screen and jogged up the cave’s stairs.

First, he went to the garage.

Slashing every single tire might have been a little overdone, but Bruce was filthy rich, he’d get over it.

Second were the supplies.

He didn’t have a precise idea of exactly what would be needed, but he figured he could always buy what he needed as he went. The most important tools for the first phase was cooling stuff.

He pilfered a big comforter from a guest room and filled it with as many ice cube packs as he could find in the upstairs freezer, then he trudged back down the cave’s stairs with his loot.

Barbara, Alfred and Damian were the only ones still in the cave when Jason came back down. He figured Dick must have led the few stragglers on a mission to go talk some sense into the big dumb Bat.

Jason didn’t like to put his trust in that. If he wanted stuff done, he might as well do it himself.

The trio stared at him and his comforter bag. He ignored them.

He did the same with all the cooling packs in the medbay freezer as he had upstairs.

He also pilfered half the emergency liquid Batfunds from their hiding place.

Third was the Batgarage.

He almost expected to be stopped, to have to fight his way through, but instead he was met with watchful silence when he stalked to one of the Batmobiles, opened the trunk, collapsed the back seats and spread his catch on the floor.

Then Jason methodically moved on the hangar for the fliers and plastic-ed up every single landing gear. Barbara put a hand on Damian’s shoulder and asked him to push her to the elevator because she wanted a snack.

Damian must have been pretty out of it not to see through the transparent excuse. Or maybe he was experiencing disconnect. He blinked at the systematic destruction Jason was wreaking upon their vehicles, then at Barbie, and obeyed without a word.

The Bat-tires were all a lot sturdier than the civilian ones, so slashing wouldn’t work that well.

Instead, with a lingering look at Alfred to see if he’d try to stop that much, Jason took out the Bat-impact-wrench and went to work removing every single wheel and kicking them over the edge of the precipice into the man-made lake Batman kept his marine float in.

Once only his chosen Batmobile was standing on all its wheels, he went for part four.

Fourth was Tim.

He strolled up to Tim’s body, opened the refrigerating dome, and lifted the sheet covered lifeless body up in his arms. He noticed Alfred bustling around. Still, he didn’t move to stop him when he went back to the trunk and deposited Tim in it.

Considering how the body had been kept very cool since his death (probably to make it easier to disguise his civilian death to a later date) rigor mortis had barely set in and it was fairly easy to maneuver him into lying on his side so he would fit inside the limited space.

Jason folded the blanket back up over Tim and closed the trunk. This was when he noticed Alfred in much more practical clothes than he ever thought he’d see the old man in, holding a backpack and opening the passenger door.

He stared at the old man, but when he was only met with a very flat stare, he shrugged, climbed into the driver seat and drove off. It was nice to see someone else understood about respecting final wishes and all that.

Fifth was distraction.

In the morning, once he estimated himself far enough from Gotham, Jason bought a replacement minivan with tinted windows at a shady second hand shop. Alfred helped him transfer the contents of the Batmobile, and then they left with their new vehicle.

Jason left the Batmobile in a well frequented parking lot with the keys taped to a side mirror for any daring youth to take it on a joyride whenever they found it. Alfred didn’t look thrilled by his choice, but didn’t protest either.

When Alfred asked him what he planned on doing, Jason started considering his options besides ‘steal the body and run’. Speaking the possibilities out loud helped him think them through too.

Breaking into a funeral house and commandeering the crematorium, although easier, would leave an obvious trail. If not on the security surveillance, at least in the fuel gauge. There was no way it wouldn’t be reported and investigated, and even if nothing came up from it, it would make Tim’s civilian death with a missing body much more suspicious than it needed to be.

Tim was so loyal to the Bats and their secret, that even the fleeting possibility that Jason might be too careless and accidentally harm his successor's cover made him sick to his stomach.

Alfred nodded at Jason’s exposed doubts. “Well,” he mused. “I guess humans have been building funeral pyres since the Roman empire, and they didn’t have gasoline then. I suspect young master Tim would have appreciated such a send-off.”

Jason swallowed. “Would he?” he asked, suddenly desperate to learn more about the person he’d just gone against Batman to cremate.

Alfred smiled sadly. “Yes, I believe so. He forced Master Bruce to watch the original Star Wars trilogy once.” Jason smiled, wondering how he’d even managed that feat, but didn’t ask, not wanting to interrupt the tale. “Master Tim was so emotional at the funeral for Anakin Skywalker. I could see the awkwardness radiating out of Master Bruce. It was clear he didn’t quite know what to do.”

In the following day of driving, they had to make a few pit stops to buy more ice-cubes and dump the old ones so the body they were transporting didn’t start to warm up and putrefy.

Jason guessed the result would be the same either way, but he really prefered to be able to give Tim as much dignity in his funeral as he could. And as far as he was concerned, it included not letting him start to smell like a pile of garbage.

They picked a deserted beach at the foot of a ragged cliff, hoping the relief would hide their fire from the watchful eyes of fire departments, and waited for the evening to start moving their newly bought supplies and Tim.

There was quite a bit of wood, charcoal, and acetone bottles to move over a pretty long way, but Jason was strong and had quite a bit of endurance, so he took care of it while Alfred built the pyre.

When all the supplies were moved, and once the night was well fallen, Jason finally brought Tim. He was still fairly cold, and didn’t actually smell.

Feeling like this had all gotten much more real, Jason carefully wrapped Tim in the comforter, letting a tuft of hair poke out to make the human shape look more like a voluntary blanket burrito than a carpet wrapped corpse.

He reviewed his excuse: Yes, my brother fell asleep during the car ride. He never sleeps so I didn’t feel like waking him. I couldn’t let him in the car though. It’s okay, he barely weighs anything.

Jason didn’t see anyone, but the cover story had already started to make him shift his way of seeing things. Brothers…He shook himself off and hurried over to Alfred.

Now that Tim was out, they had to make haste. Getting caught with a corpse was absolutely not desirable.

“I know it’s stupidly romantic, but I can’t help thinking we should burn him with his weapon,” Jason said, sighing while dousing the comforter in acetone. (They should probably douse Tim too, but that was something neither of them could bring themselves to do, pouring acetone on a family member.)

Alfred smiled faintly and opened his backpack to pull a small cylinder out. Jason reached for it and unfolded it.

They quickly put Tim in position on top of the fire accelerant doused pyre. (Jason spared a moment to be thankful Tim had already been cut out of his fire retardant nomex uniform and dressed in cotton civilian clothes. He didn’t voice it, though, because he was fairly sure Alfred had been the one to do it and it must have been incredibly harrowing for him.)

Alfred took out a camcorder and a tripod and started recording the funeral pyre. It wasn’t meant as an archive, too risky, but as an inclusion, so the rest of the family would be able to see it at least once if they chose to.

Jason stared at Tim’s too pale dead face.

He had been suppressing his knowledge that Tim’s ‘body’ was actually Tim’s corpse. He’d been compartmentalising, and he knew it, thinking like Tim was in some sort of coma instead of dead. Even when he’d been browsing the barbecue section of the mall for the pyre’s material, he’d still been treating it like he was doing Tim a simple favor, rather than organizing a funeral.

Because he needed to be functional, because he couldn’t break down.

At last, Alfred and Jason folded the acetone doused comforter over Tim’s body and threw ropes over the pyre to anchor it down. (Apparently, Roman pyres sometimes ejected the person placed on top of it because of the abrupt heat, and they prefered to avoid this risk.)

Finally, they lit a couple of torches and touched them to the pile, lighting it up.

The pyre went up in flame with a wroof.

Jason retreated out of the camera’s recording field and huddled down.

That was it.

No more Tim.

Alfred, bless him, noticed his somber mood and gently rubbed his back as they watched the initial acetone fueled fury recede down to a more reasonable wood and coal fueled one.

“You should cry,” Jason rumbled.

“So should you, young man,” Alfred hummed back.

“Somehow I can’t,” he admitted, staring at the brazier. “But the kid deserves to have someone cry at his funeral. You knew him, you should do it.”

Jason felt numb. The heat of the fire was drying his lips and stinging his cheeks and forehead, but he couldn’t bring himself to care, let alone move away. Not with the burnt flesh smell and occasional explosion as the heat started to pulverise bones.

Even as tears started sliding down Alfred’s weathered old cheeks, the disconnect wouldn’t go.

He was still thinking about what if someone came. What if the fire department came by and noticed they were illegally getting rid of a body.

Thankfully, no one came by for the four hours it took for the fire to burn itself down to embers.

Somehow, Alfred had fallen asleep in the sand, dried tear tracks marring his face. It had been a very long 36 hours, after all, and Jason had no idea how long the man had been awake before he came in the cave to hear Tim’s will.

Jason didn’t wake him and raked the coals closer together with a long branch, looking out for any long bone or unburnt flesh that would need to be pushed closer to the embers.

There were some bone fragments, but thankfully no flesh, and once Jason had managed to push everything closer together, he took the last bottle of fire accelerant, poured it in a long handled steel pan and carefully dumped it on, then jumped out of the way of the new tongue of fire.

One hour later, Alfred still fast asleep, he carefully scooped the top layer of ashes into the big glass jar they had bought for them.

Once it got impossible to catch the ashes without taking sand with it, Jason took out the garbage bags and started scooping all the mixed sand and ashes he could into them.

Only then did he shake Alfred awake.

They silently took everything back to the van, drove a few miles to a wild looking patch of forest and buried the ashy sand.

“So. What now?” Alfred asked, looking at the Jar.

“Now,” Jason said with a sigh, “I drop you off at a train station so you can go back home to Gotham, and I get to burying these ashes in different locations.”

Alfred smiled sadly. “It’s probably for the best. It’ll give you boys the opportunity to spend some time together. Take him somewhere nice, hear me? I always thought the boy needed to go on vacations more.”

Jason swallowed around the lump in his throat. “Promise. Only the best places for little Red.”

Alfred looked equally choked up.

They climbed back in the van.

“Take care, young Master Jason,” Alfred whispered along with a rare hug in the deserted train station. “No matter the circumstances, it was good seeing you again.” Then he looked down at the Jar. “I’m counting on you to keep that one out of trouble, young man.”

And… Here were the tears again, Jason shuffled awkwardly while Alfred dabbed at his eyes.

He ran away as soon as the train came in the station, rather than stay for a last tearful goodbye.

“Well,” Jason told the Jar when he turned the key in the ignition. “Ready for a last adventure, Timbo?”

There wasn’t, Jason thought as he sieved the ashes into a mixing bowl to catch the chunky bits of charred bone, anything that could drive the reality of someone’s death in more deeply than having to crush their bones to a dust using seemingly innocent kitchen ustensils...

It took him a couple of hours to get the bones into fine enough a powder as to be totally inconspicuous in the granite mortar he’d bought especially for this purpose. He was so glad he’d managed to hide the chunks from Alfred, it wasn’t something he wanted the old butler to even have to think about.

“So? Do you like it here?” Jason asked Tim’s Jar.

He was aware that Tim was dead and talking to his ashes looked an awful lot like madness, but to be fair, next to the Pit madness, any other form of it was an improvement.

“I like it. It’s nice. I think you’ll be happy here.” With a small smile, Jason reached for his shovel and started digging.

Once the hole was a couple of feet deep, Jason knelt by it and dumped a handful of ashes in.

Well, ashes and some sand. Most air travel companies didn’t let funeral urns travel in the passenger cabin. Jason had used colorful sands to make Tim’s Jar look more like a souvenir decorative sand bocal than a jar of human ashes. He was sure Tim didn’t mind going undercover, he’d been trained to it, after all.

When he was done shovelling soil back in the hole, Jason sprawled next to it, basking in the beauty of the spot he’d chosen to be yet another of Tim’s graves.

“So, where to next?” he asked his deceased brother. When, predictably, no answer came, he smiled. “I think you’d like Tibet. Let’s go to Tibet. Maybe I can find somewhere you like in the Himalayas.”

Jason stared at the hole. The last one he’d have to dig after what seemed like a hundred of them (it really wasn’t though).

The scenery was pretty perfect, blue sky over a lush green mountain, not too high, and still pretty wild. It went well with the rest of his string of small graves.

With a grimace, he tipped the small glass bocal (he’d switched the Jar out for smaller containers as he went) over the hole.

A part of him was saying to only dump half of the ashes down, to keep going for a bit more.

Finally, tears welled up.

He knew he hadn’t actually needed to divide the ashes half as much as he had. It had been an excuse, to be able to hold onto his little brother for a bit more time. Not that he’d ever been much of a brother to him, except for this one last time when it mattered most.

The same part of him asked again if they did have to bury all the ashes. He could keep an ounce of them after all, keep a bit of it, for memory.

Jason shook the bocal to dislodge the last of the dusts in it and scooped a handful of soil over the ashes immediately afterward before he could lose his nerve.

It was time he said goodbye.

It was time to let Tim go.

Jason finally started to sob, crying over the too young hero. Over the little brother he never actually managed to bond with. Over the Robin, dead, just like him, and the fact that it was what it had taken for Jason to finally pay attention to him.

He cried, long and hard.

Then he took his shovel and filled this last hole back up.

“Wherever you are now, I hope you are more happy than you were when you left us,” he murmured. “I can’t remember being dead, so I can only hope.”

He looked around. “This has been fun, kinda. I hope you liked our little adventure as much as I did. I just. I. I’m just sad and sorry we couldn’t do that while you were alive.”

He sniffed, rubbing at his eyes. “Farewell, Tim.”

Breathing deeply, he placed the bocal next to the upturned soil and stepped back, taking his cellphone out. He walked far enough away that he could get the mini-grave in the camera’s frame along with a good chunk of the scenery.

He hadn’t documented any other locations, but seeing the quantity of different places he’d scattered Tim’s ashes across, just one picture wouldn’t hurt too much.

-Coming back to Gotham now- He included with the picture to Alfred.

It was, after all, time to move on. Jason definitely should try and talk to Damian so he didn’t have to mourn another stranger of a little brother ever again. (The thought hit him suddenly, that it was exactly what Dick had said to explain his much more developed relationship to Tim as it had been to him.)

His phone chimed with a reply.

-I am looking forward to your return-

[aliaisonfanfiction]

Chapter 51

Adlanniel stared down at Thranduil, her mouth slightly agape yet unable to speak. Her eyes were wide in shock and she was only brought back to reality by the tightening grip on her wrist.

  “Where is he?” Thranduil repeated with urgency, his eyes searching hers for an answer.

  Calmly and gently she released his hand from her wrist, and cupped her hands around his in reassurance. “Do not fret, aran nin, for Legolas is well. He has a few injuries, but he will recover swiftly. He is still at the war camp, overseeing the surrender of the Easterlings.”

  Thranduil fell back against the pillows and let out a breath of relief. His mind felt so muddled, like he had lost all sense of place and time. He looked back at her then. His vision was partially impaired, and distant voices echoed in his ears, making it difficult to comprehend who she was. “Adlanniel?”

  She smiled, relieved, and gently stroked his hand that she was still holding. “It is I, aran nin.” She confirmed. “We are back at the palace.”

  “Back at the palace?” He repeated, then looking out towards the entrance door. “How long have we been here?”

  “We only just arrived here this morning, aran nin. But you have been mostly unconscious for quite a few days.”

  “Mostly?”

  “The poison caused your mind darkness and caused hallucinations…” She replied, her eyes saddening. She remembered the apparition they had both seen. Had that really been a hallucination?

  He thought upon it for a moment, then looked to her once more. “Have you been caring for me for all this time?”

  “I have, aran nin.” She replied. She could not help the stray tears that began falling from her eyes once more, so joyful was she that he was awake and his mind lucid. Yet he did not seem so happy to see her. His face was rather one of sadness.

   “It should not have been your burden to bear.” He said solemnly. “I did not want you to ever have to see me like this…the thing of your nightmares.”  

  There was a silence between them, for Adlanniel did not know how to respond - so mixed were her feelings. Yet, the emotions in her heart held true and she tightened her hold on his hand due to pure affection and adoration. “It had been my choice Thranduil. Legolas had asked it of me, to care for you, and I chose to do so. I would trust no one else with such a task. And besides…” She paused for a moment. “Now I have seen all faces of you.”

  He looked at her, trying to read the deeper meaning of what she had said, but his head ached.

  “Now rest, aran nin, and let me replace these bandages.”

  He looked away from her again and gave a slight nod. He could not bare to look at her while he was in such a horrible and vulnerable state. With every bandage she peeled off him, he was reminded of the pain of having his skin melt away. He could not show her the agony he was feeling, despite how gentle she was, and with every bandage she replaced his heart darkened further.

“This will be the last time you do this.” He voice was cold, reminding her of all those times he had been so foreboding. “Next time, send someone else.” And without a second thought, he waved her off. “Now leave.”

His words stung at her like a thousand hornets. She was only trying to help him, only trying to show that she still cared so deeply for him and yet he was so dismissive of her efforts and her feelings.

She didn’t know if her heart could break any further than it already had. Stifling a sob, she curtsied and without another word she turned and left his chambers.When the great oaken doors closed behind her, she slid down to the marble floor in front them and wept into her hands. How could he be so cruel to her again, especially now out of all times? Had he remembered the apparition and the ominous message his wife had given him? Are her words the reason why he was being so dismissive again? If it were indeed the case, she knew she had to get through it for the sake of her children regardless of how much it pained her. Standing then, she hastily wiped her eyes and took in a deep breath, composing herself.

  “Have prepared food and drink for the king. He is awakened. Also he has ordered that I not take care of him, so send another healer in my stead next time his bandages need changing.” She said sternly to the Elvenking’s butler when she came across him in the halls.

  “Yes, hiril vuin.” He replied politely, but a little surprised at how straightforward - and annoyed she sounded.

Quickly she returned to her rooms and closed the doors, sliding the bolts in place as if in an attempt to keep all darkness out. Yet she could feel it still seeping in, through every crack and crevice, wrapping its way around her heart and mind, driving her mad. She fell to her bed again and continued to cry relentlessly, begging the Valar to allow warm arms to wrap around her and hold her close to heart - she did not care whose. She thought then that even the embrace of Mandos himself would have been enough. Anything to get her away from the pain and the guilt that choked her, and the lust that still ravaged her relentlessly. Oh, why would none of it ever stop? Even as the days went by, and she kept herself relatively secluded in her room, did the pain not abate. Even when letters from her beloved prince arrived did she still feel so weighed and broken. How could she continue like this? The gwannûn too were giving her grief now with their constant kicking and tumbling about.

“Calm yourselves.” She begged them as she lay under the fur blankets of her bed, refusing to face the outside world.

 Gwendalyn was becoming increasingly worried about her self-inflicted seclusion, despite being reassured by her lady that the cold weather was simply making her pregnancy more difficult to cope with. The young handmaiden constantly begged her lady to resurface, at least when she was well enough to do so, for the entire palace was worried about her.

‘The entire palace?’ Adlanniel would think to herself. The only one there who she truly wanted to care obviously did not. Not once did he come to personally see her. Her rationality told her that perhaps he was still too weak and thus was still relatively bed ridden himself, but the darkness within her would not agree.

  “I feel that you are the only one I can truly confide in…” She sighed as she stroked Maeglir’s face. The stallion let out a low whinny and nuzzled her stomach. After many days in her own seclusion, she had decided to make it her new task to regularly visit the stables, to tend to those steeds that had been injured during the battles which already seemed to have been so long ago. She adored animals, particularly horses, and they brought her some form of comfort from all the recent misery. “Maeglir, do you understand how I feel?” She asked, after having spoken to him at length of what was going on in her mind. The white steed snuffed, and nodded. Maeglir was a descendant from a line of the great Mearas, the most revered horses in all of Arda; horses which could understand common speech as well as the languages of the elves. They were majestic beasts, Maeglir being counted as one of the most out of all those that had allowed themselves to be domesticated.

“I wish he would understand…” She began to weep again, and put her forehead to the stallion’s strong, warm neck. Maeglir brought his head around to embrace her.

  “I do understand.” Came his voice near her. Maeglir pricked up his ears and whinnied. Adlanniel spun around, almost tripping on her own feet, to see that Thranduil had entered the stall and was standing on the other side of his steed. How did she not notice his entrance? It mattered not for he was there, petting his stallion’s neck.

  Adlanniel composed herself and took in a deep breath. “How long had you been listening for?” She asked, a dissatisfied frown strewn across her face.

   “Long enough…” He replied simply before he continued. “But I do understand Adlanniel. I suffer the same pain and mental agony of it all.”

  “Then why do you treat me with so much disdain?” Her voice was angered now, making Maeglir shift uneasily.

Thranduil looked to the straw of the stable floor before looking back up at her. His expression full of pain and suffering. “I do not mean to.” He replied honestly.

  “You do not like others to see you vulnerable.” Adlanniel stated, the scorn still written on her face. “At least your wounds have mostly healed.” She muttered then. “But it does not detract from you being a monster.”

Thranduil looked at her both shocked and hurt, but he could not blame her for feeling the way she did, or saying such biting words that were so very true. He did not want to fight with her, not now, and his expression turned to one of sadness. “Adlanniel….please…”

  “You are torturous!” And picking up the box of grooming brushes, she stormed out of the stall and headed towards the tack room.

  Maeglir whinnied after her, and then snorted at Thranduil.

  “I know Maeglir.” Thranduil sighed dolefully. “I am sure you already know this is all my fault.”

  The steed used his head to push Thranduil towards the stall’s door. Thranduil knew that Maeglir meant for him to follow her. He contemplated for a long moment on whether or not he should. She would only try to burn him with her harsh words, though well deserved. Yet, he was far too tired for hostility, and he wanted to end it between them once and for all.

  When he appeared in the tack room door, he could see her sitting on a box, crying. He cautiously approached her, but she was too distraught to move.

Crouching before her, he gently placed a hand on hers. “Goheno nin Adlanniel…. It breaks my heart to see you weep so, to see all the pain I have rendered in you.”

  She looked up at him then, her eyes reddened and swollen with tears. He reached up to her face and gently wiped her tears away with his thumbs. She leaned her head to his touch; his sweet, soft, gentle touch - something she had been craving for for so long.

  “I wish you could erase it all.” She whimpered, his hand now stroking her face.

“If only it were that easy…” He sighed. After a short silence he stood to walk over to the ladder which led up to a great loft. “Such darkness has come over us now…” He began solemnly.

  “Fill the Chalice of Truth. Without the Chalice to be filled, no Light can be spread again…”

  Thranduil’s eyes widened as he turned back to Adlanniel, surprised. Those words were so familiar, yet he could not fathom where he had heard them. They were like they had been whispered on a distant breeze.

  “And yet I cannot bear the pain of the truth.” She continued as she slowly approached him. “For I love two so deeply, yet the one whom I crave for so desperately has no sliver of love within him for me.”

  Thranduil’s cerulean eyes turned contrite and deeply saddened. He knew the truth deep within his heart. “What do you want me to say?”

  “That you love me!” She spat out, the words rolling off her tongue so naturally. But those words were unexpected, even for her. Was that truly what she wanted to hear?

  Thranduil gazed into her eyes as he took her by the shoulders. “I cannot love you the way you wish me to Adlanniel.” He said firmly, but with great heartache. “Perhaps in another life I could, but it is not this life. Regardless, it does not mean I have no feelings for you. I hold a great affection for you.”

  “Such sweet lies...like your Dorwinion wine.”

  Again, such familiar words she spoke. He took her face in his hands and gazed into her eyes, searching them. “I do not lie on this Adlanniel.”

“I hate you.” She spat bitterly. Yet why she said those words too even she could not understand.   Her harsh words were as spontaneous as the kiss he suddenly planted on her lips, and the sharp slap that then landed on his cheek. They both stared at each other in shock for what seemed like an eternity, a great and insufferable heat filling every crevice of their bodies and souls. One could not possibly tell who jumped on who first, but their bodies were as entwined as vines of ivy, their mouths locked in a deep and insatiable passion as they clawed desperately at each other’s clothes. The fire which burned within took off like a wildfire as their tongues lashed and twisted within their mouths, Thranduil pushing Adlanniel almost harshly against the nearby wall where bridles hung.  

  Hitching up the folds of her dress, Thranduil pushed his hips against hers, his hardened member threatening to tear through his leggings. Pulling them down hastily he entered her, a satisfied moan passing through their love-locked mouths. She was sultry and nothing but wanting his equally fervent lust, pushing her hips to meet his with every thrust. So hungry for her forbidden lover was she, she almost bit him again, just as she had when they had first joined in coitus in the Garden of the Brook all those moons ago.

 Whilst one was entwined in her luscious raven hair, Thranduil’s other hand traced its way up and down the length of her torso; teasing her taught nipples between his fingertips, tracing his touch up and down the pearls of her spine, coveting her every inch of delectable flesh. She too did the same, clawing at him to bring him as close as they could manage, wanting to feel all of him over her.

  Promises that had been made were now broken and the vicious cycle they had begun was set to start spinning again. Yet the passion and bliss they were in drowned out all else, including the guilt that had been drowning them. Perhaps their passion now was spurred from the treacherous guilt that had been plaguing them, the guilt which only caused their need for each other to grow more; Like the vines of the ivy which could not survive without each other for nourishment…

  Suddenly came a great, painful kick from the gwannûn. It sent such a sharp pain through her pelvis she cried out and shoved Thranduil away from her. He looked at her in surprise, but dazed like he had just been snapped out of a dream.

  “What is wrong? Are you alright?” He asked when he came to his senses.

“The gwannûn...they are restless…they kicked me hard. Even they disapprove of what we have done.”

  “What we have done…” He repeated, feeling a sudden burning where she had slapped him previously. “Adlanniel….I…” For the first time in an age, he was rendered almost speechless, not knowing how to react and what to make of what had just happened. He had just gone against everything he had promised to her, and to himself; he had betrayed his precious son again. How could this need for Adlanniel not abate after all they had gone through, after all he had done to try to keep it at bay? He had hurt her, so why would she too still want him? Why would she still love him?

  “What are we doing Thranduil?” Adlanniel wept in a desperate frustration. “Why are we doing this?” She broke down then and fell to the floor beneath them. Thranduil, quickly fixing his clothing, went down to her, and pulled her dress back up over her shoulders. Yet, she pushed him away again angrily. “Your touch is poison!” She yelled as she pulled back, her voice causing the horses nearby to shift and bray.

  “Calm yourself Adlanniel! You will bring unneeded attention.” He warned her.

  “To the abyss with you!” She cried as she lunged forward to hit him again. Yet the suddenness of her movements made her slip on her dress and fall face-forward.

  Thranduil scrambled to catch her, and she clung to him as if her life depended upon it, and continued to wail on him. The banks of the dam that had held all of her deeper emotions were finally broken, and they spilt out onto the king’s shoulder. But he held her tightly, feeling the emotional torment that ran through her, and was himself rendered helpless.

  “Why??” She continued to weep relentlessly against him. “Why can I not stop wanting you? Why can I not stop needing you. I just want Mandos to come smite me now!” She cried in despair.

  Thranduil held her tighter at those words. “No, oh no, pinig, do not say such things. I could not bear to lose you. Legolas could not survive without you. You know that.”

  “And now you decide to think about Legolas, you bastard.” She punched him hard in the shoulder but still was unable to let him go.

  “Illicit affairs are always initiated by two people.” He frowned, instantly regretting those words. He did not want to aggravate the hornet’s nest further, though he already had from laying with her.

 She wailed then at his words, knowing them to be utterly true. She had always known it - that she too was to blame just as much as he. In such despair was she, she did not even notice the two guards that had run to the door after having heard cries from the stable entrance. Luckily for her, Thranduil was shielding her with his body. Her dress, though now around her shoulders, was still loose from the undone ties.

  Thranduil gave a simple nod, and the guards, bowing, rushed back to their posts.

“Adlanniel, pinig, we made another mistake. We have made many these past months. Our whole affair is one big, disastrous mistake. But there is still time, there is still hope. We can still fix this!”    

   “Fill the Chalice of Truth. Without the Chalice to be filled, no Light can be spread again…” Adlanniel said slowly once more.

  “I have heard that before….”

  “I know you did...I was there…”

  Thranduil looked down at her in utter confusion.

  “You, my grandmother and father are not the only ones who can see things… visions… apparitions… things of that ilk.”

  “What did you see?”

  Adlanniel’s eyes gazed off into the corner of the room where she stared into nothingness.

“Queen Silveth, as bright and as beautiful as the stars in the night sky…”

  Thranduil turned a sickly pale, and his stomach lurched with sudden nausea. He suddenly felt the burning sting of tears in his eyes. “Silveth…”

Once more her ethereal image was before him, looking down at him with saddened yet sympathetic eyes. Her vision was spliced with past memories of what they once had - a perfect love. How could he explain to Adlanniel how conflicted all this made him feel?

   “The Queen and I had been together for over a millennium. Over that time our love for each other had grown and developed into something worthy of the Valar themselves; unwavering and unbreakable. She bore me my first and only legitimate child and cared for us with utmost devotion till the very day she died. Can you imagine what it feels like, losing so much and then having the love of your life cruelly stripped away from you…again?”

  Adlanniel shook her head solemnly.

  “You have already told me how it would feel for you to lose Legolas. Imagine what it must feel like for me…a millennium of unequivocal love gone due to one horribly wrong and tragic decision. The mother of my child, gone. The child she was yet to bear, gone. Everything I held dear, crumbled into ash.” Tears now trickled down his face and over the skin of his cheeks, flowing over the remnants of healed scars that remained as his magic began returning.

“Then after many centuries, when you have finally learned to cope with the pain of her loss, she is before you again, yet it is not only her but the first love that you lost combined. How can one deal with that after having been alone, devoid of an elleth’s touch for so long? How can you deal with it not actually being her, but her embodied in someone you cannot have, that someone being the lover of your own child?” His embrace of her loosened, and he looked away. “There is no excuse for what I have done to the both of you, and I will live the rest of my days feeling the weight of the guilt caused by it. But to have been able to feel even but a remnant of what I had once had with Silveth… What would you have done in my situation?” He looked into Adlanniel's eyes. She too was weeping relentlessly and could barely find her voice to reply.

  “I would do anything to feel Legolas’ love again if I were to lose him.” She sniffed. “Anything. I understand how conflicted you must feel. But you know I feel just as tortured.”

“I do know.” Thranduil nodded.

“Though he may not be here now, Legolas still lives. You will see him again soon. But when will I see my wife again? I will never know…I often wonder if I should just sail to the West in a hope that she will be there waiting for me. But what if she is not there? I will be left in my own ruin again.”

  “No Thranduil, that cannot be true! Surely your ancestors will be there. Perhaps your own parents, to help ease the wait of her return.”

  “Perhaps.” He sighed. “But a darkness is returning to these lands. You can feel it too. And so, I cannot leave it to its peril yet.”

“And I do not want you to leave,” Adlanniel said in a small, tear-choked voice.

“We have discussed so many times how to end this.” She sobbed. “But I can't. I don't know why. I don't know how many times I have to remind myself of how much I love Legolas, because you know that I do! The scope of my love for him is endless! Yet I cannot help but still remain so drawn to you. You are my poisonous addiction. No amount of trying to stay away from each other has helped; we've both been drawn back like a moth to the flame. I should have just done as you asked and returned to Imladris. But even if I had gone back, I would not have gotten over you.”

   “I would have sent Legolas to you, to love and cherish you as he always has. It may have taken centuries, but eventually, your feelings for me would have abated. Your true love is Legolas, not I.” Came Thranduil’s reply as he sat her up straight.

  “I know this.” Adlanniel frowned, still frustrated; still wanting. “So send me back to the camp so I can be with only him.”

  “You know I cannot allow that, for your safety and that of the children inside you.”

  “Then what are we to do? Continue to avoid each other and continue to be hostile to one another? If we continue that, I am sure suspicions will circulate. Already Legolas himself suspects something and has demanded answers of me when he returns.”

  “Then it is your choice to give him those answers,” Thranduil replied. “Fill the Chalice of Truth. That is what you told me Silveth said. Without the Chalice to be filled, light cannot spread again. Whether or not she truly had appeared to us, I do not know, but her words hold true.”

  “But are you not the one who once told me that the truth would tear Legolas apart? That the truth would destroy all of us? How can we do that, especially now that I am with child?” Adlanniel stroked the bulge of her stomach. “I do not care what happens to me, but what if Legolas hates them? One of them is not his after all…”

  “He could never hate them, and you do not need to tell him of their parentage - you do not need to bring the gwannûn into the fray. It is your choice if you wish to tell Legolas the truth by heeding Silveth’s words. As I have told you before, I will support you no matter what your decision is.”

  “Then why can you not tell him?” Her voice was small.

“Don’t you think it would hurt him more not coming from you?” Thranduil replied. “But if you truly wish for me to be the one to tell him, then I will.”

“No!” Adlanniel said quickly as she shook her head. “I will be the one to tell him if either of us does.” She paused for a long moment then before continuing. “I just cannot bear to break his poor heart.”

“Well…” Thranduil began with a sigh. “Some secrets are meant to go to our graves. It is up to us on whether or not we choose to bury them with us. But doing so means we must carry a heavy burden for the rest of our lives. We are both already experiencing the horridness of it. Also to withhold the truth is dishonest and as cruel as what we have already done. Think upon it Adlanniel, for it is your relationship and your future that is most at stake. But remember, and you already know this, Legolas will go through the abyss and back for you. His heart will shatter from the truth, but the love he holds for you will mend it eventually.”

  “But what of the love I hold for you?” She sobbed.

  Thranduil gazed at her sympathetically. “It is not true love, but a lust that has engulfed us both.”

  “Will this lust be the demise of us both?” She murmured.

 Suddenly Thranduil pushed Adlanniel from his lap and bolted upright, looking around the room almost frantically. He looked towards the ladder before he scaled its length quickly, and glanced about the loft. He knew it was not his emotions or his illness playing tricks on him.

  She stood now and properly fixed her dress. “What is the matter, aran nin?”

  Thranduil, sighing, looked back down at her before descending the ladder. He looked almost defeated which sent Adlanniel’s heart racing.

“I fear that someone may have been watching us…”

[bandbacktogether]

Estrangement Resources

New Post has been published on https://www.bandbacktogether.com/master-resource-links-2/family-resources/estrangement-resources/

Estrangement Resources

What Is Estrangement?

Broadly speaking, estrangement is defined as one or more relatives (or loved ones) intentionally choosing to end contact because of an ongoing negative relationship. (Relatives who go long stretches without a phone call because of external circumstances like a military deployment or incarceration don’t fit the bill.)

In the past five years, a clearer picture of estrangement has been emerging as more researchers have turned their attention to this kind of family rupture. Their findings challenge the deeply held notion that family relationships can’t be dissolved and suggest that estrangement is not all that uncommon.

Relationships are the dynamic between two people. Relationships take care, upkeep, and resources. However, they are not always easy, and rifts may develop between two or more people. When this rift grows, and two people grow apart, the relationship becomes estranged.

Estrangement can lead to many relationship consequences, such as separation, divorce, and alienation. Estrangement is a rift or division that is the result of unmet expectations or other disruptions in a relationship. Estrangements come in all forms, particularly in families: partner from partner, parent from child, sibling from sibling, grandparent from child, aunt/uncle from niece/nephew, and so forth. Even the best of friends can become estranged from one another because of unmet expectations or other disruptions in the friendship.

When families have endured disruption related to abuse, addiction, or other trauma, adult children may sometimes step back from their parents as they sort through their childhood experience. However, estrangement can also occur when adult children experience their parent as failing to honor established boundaries, when there is a conflict over money or when there are long-standing resentments. Parental divorce and remarriage are frequent sources of distress. The disconnection that occurs when an adult child alerts a parent of the need to take a break from the relationship differs from the type that results from an angry, unexpected cut off.

Estrangement is widely misunderstood, but as more and more people share their experiences, some misconceptions are being overturned. Assuming that every relationship between a parent and child will last a lifetime is as simplistic as assuming every couple will never split up.

How Does Family Estrangement Occur?

The Psychology of Splitting From Your Family of Origin

Estrangements from family are one of the most psychologically painful experiences to experience. Estranging yourself from family is absolutely counterintuitive: Who, after all, would think to terminate a relationship with someone who raised you? Sadly, the answer is that it’s typically only people who have been neglected, abused, or exploited in some way who would pursue such a tumultuous split within the family dynamic.

Adding more stress to the already-stressful mix, society tends to give harsh judgment on people who reject their family – even as disturbed as some families can be. We must work to find the empathy for anyone who shares his or her story, it’s hard to understand that some people can be so judgmental about others’ experience – especially when they have no real idea about how bad things may have been in the estranger’s family.

After years of discontent, some adults choose to stop talking to their parents or returning home for family gatherings, and parents may disapprove of a child so intensely that he or she is no longer welcome home.

Sometimes families become so dysfunctional that a family member decides that he can’t stay connected any longer to a specific person in the family or, in some cases, the entire family. Typically people who estrange themselves from family tend to be over the age of 18, because that is the point when they begin to reach adulthood and increased independence.

In a study published in June 2017, Dr. Scharp spoke to 52 adult children and found they distanced themselves from their parents in various ways over time.

Some adult children moved away. Others no longer made an effort to fulfill expectations of their roles, such as a 48-year-old woman who, after 33 years with no contact with her father, declined to visit him in the hospital or to attend his funeral.

Still others chose to limit conversations with a family member to superficial small talk or reduce the amount of contact. One 21-year-old man described how he called and texted his mother, but not his father, after leaving for college.

Estrangement is a “continual process,” Dr. Scharp said. “In our culture, there’s a ton of guilt around not forgiving your family,” she explained. So “achieving distance is hard, but maintaining distance is harder.”

Family estrangement is often experienced as a considerable loss; its ambiguous nature and social disenfranchisement can contribute to significant grief responses, perceived stigma, and social isolation. It’s amazing how little research actually exists on this topic, that lack is due largely to the stigma associated with estrangement:

Most people don’t want to talk openly about why they estranged themselves from family for fear of judgment.

A Few Statistics

On the website Estranged Stories, both parents and their adult children can fill out surveys about their estrangement. The results are surprising. For one thing, the parents who are estranged are older than one might expect, with over one-third falling into the 70-80 age group. When asked to describe the parent-child relationship before the rift, the most popular answer given by the adult children was “moral obligation.” The second most popular answer was “volatile and/or not close.” When asked whether they bear some responsibility for the estrangement, slightly more than half said yes. In 2014, 8 percent of roughly 2,000 British adults said that they had cut off a family member, which translates to more than five million people, according to a nationally representative survey commissioned by Stand Alone, a charity that supports estranged people.

Kylie Agllias, a social worker in Australia who wrote a 2016 book called “Family Estrangement,” has found that estrangement “occurs across years and decades. All the hurt and betrayals, all the things that accumulate, undermine a person’s sense of trust.”

Another interesting area concerns whether the children ever “concretely” told the cut-off parent the reasons for the estrangement. Over 67% said they had. This is a reverse mirror image of the parents’ response in a similar survey when over 60% said that they had never been told the reasons for the estrangement. This disparity reflects difficulties that parents sometimes have in communicating with adult children.

A British survey found that children are usually the ones who cut off contact. In fact, researchers found that members of the younger generation initiated the break about ten times more often than did members of the older generation.

Some Repeated Themes

Reasons for conflicts with adult children vary. Some adult children have severed relationships with parents due to traumatic childhoods: They were abused or grew up with parents who were alcoholics or drug users. Occasionally, family disputes have erupted over money. In the majority of cases, however, the reasons for estrangement are not so clear-cut. Still, certain themes occur over and over in commentary from adult children who have divorced their parents.

“You Weren’t a Good Parent.”

Some children feel that they weren’t loved or nurtured sufficiently. Sometimes, that’s because they were reared in a time or a culture that didn’t value open expressions of love. Sometimes it is because their parents truly had a hard time expressing their feelings. Occasionally adult children still feel hurt from episodes that occurred years ago, things that the parents may not even be aware of.

Therapists working with parents who are estranged from their adult children note powerful consequences from the cutoff. Depression related to loss and shame along with a strong sense of failure are commonly reported. Some have pursued grief counseling to deal with the overwhelming feelings of loss, while others have sought assistance to mend the relationship. There are others who suffer silently because they feel ashamed of their perceived failure.

Indeed, horrific parental behavior is sometimes assumed to be the cause of parent-child disconnection, an assumption that can heighten discomfort and despair.

“You Broke Up Our Family.”

The children of divorce often blame one party or another for the divorce. Sometimes that is due to what they have been told by one or another of their parents. Even when the divorcing parties remain civil, children often place the blame on one partner or another. After adult children marry themselves, they don’t always gain sympathy for their parents’ marital troubles. While they acknowledge that marriage is tough, they tend to feel that if their parents had persevered, they could have made it work.

“You Still See Me As A Child.”

Parents and children live for many years in a specific relationship, with parents in charge. Parents sometimes have difficulty giving up that construct. Children, on the other hand, are usually ready and willing to make their own decisions. When adult children say that their parents don’t see them as adults, they are sometimes correct. Many times parents persist in giving unwanted advice. Voicing disapproval of a child’s spouse or partner can definitely cause conflict. Finances, jobs, and lifestyle are other frustrations for conflict.

“We Don’t Have the Same Values.”

When children make choices that aren’t consistent with their parents’ values, the parents sometimes say, “We didn’t raise you that way.” They have trouble acknowledging that grown children are responsible for developing their own moral compasses. Also, trouble can arise when an adult child marries someone who differs in important ways from his or her family of birth. Sometimes the difficulty springs from differences in political leanings or religious beliefs. These issues present especially difficult challenges because political and religious beliefs tend to be closely held. Some families learn to live with such differences. Others never do.

Exactly what is meant by a “toxic person” depends upon the speaker. It’s not included in standard handbooks of psychological disorders, but generally, it’s understood to mean a person who is harmful to another’s emotional equilibrium. Those who are overwhelmingly negative, who blame others, who are excessively needy or who are casually cruel sometimes are called toxic.

Other labels that are often used to justify ending a relationship are narcissistic and bipolar. Both of these are genuine psychological disorders, but the labels are often casually applied, without any professional diagnosis.

What Are Some Of The Contributing Factors To Estrangement?

There are a number of contributors that may act as a catalyst for an estranged relationship. Unresolved issues such as trust, money, safety, emotional abuse, neglect, domestic abuse, anger, child abuse, sexual abuse or incest – all can contribute to two or more people becoming estranged.

In a study published in the journal Australian Social Work in 2015, 26 adults reported being estranged from parents for three main reasons: abuse (everything from belittling to physical or sexual abuse), betrayal (keeping secrets or sabotaging them) and poor parenting (being overly critical, shaming children or making them scapegoats). The three were not mutually exclusive, and often overlapped. Most of the participants said that their estrangements followed childhoods in which they had already had poor connections with parents who were physically or emotionally unavailable.

Along with individual characteristics, environment can play a factor. Extreme social isolation can lead to estrangement. In particular, social isolation is often key to the control exerted by strict religious sects and cults over their members.

In addition, if one or both of the individuals involved have any of the following personality disorders, there is a greater risk of estrangement occurring:

Asperger’s Syndrome/Autism Those who struggle with Asperger’s may have more difficulty with social skills and interpersonal relationships.

Bipolar Disorder: Impulsive behaviors and decisions may lead to troubled relationships. Further, irritability and paranoia may strain relationships.

Depression: Depression may cause social isolation, irritability, sadness, and other symptoms that may lead to an estranged relationship.

Borderline Personality Disorder: Extreme difficulty with interpersonal relationships can lead to estrangement in both home and work relationships

Narcissistic Personality Disorder: Self-centered approaches to relationships can lead to confused or one-sided relationships. There is also a tendency to project insecurities or attribute characteristics upon others.

Deciding Upon Estrangement:

Family estrangement is often experienced as a considerable loss; its ambiguous nature and social disenfranchisement can contribute to significant grief responses, perceived stigma, and social isolation for some of us.

Family estrangement or disownment is a complicated process. Each person has their own unique set of reasons for cutting contact or experiencing rejection from a family unit. Some of our community members have been distanced because of a lifestyle choice, their sexuality, a gender choice, disagreements over money, religious differences, marrying someone from a different background, or not behaving to the satisfaction of their core family members.

Family estrangement can be common for families with strong and rigid religious beliefs, where younger generations often feel conflicted about their cultural heritage and make decisions that are not seen favorably or are accepted by their extended family.

People say that they chose to become estranged after occasions such as a wedding, a death in the family or a bad Christmas. These people often felt their family could not work through the intense feelings of hurt and painful memories associated with something that happened on these occasions.

Some people become estranged from their family because their family has been emotionally, physically, or sexually abusive during childhood or beyond.

It’s immensely difficult to keep a relationship together if a member of your family has been abusive towards you, and it can be extremely risky to continue a genuine relationship with this family member without the right professional intervention and support. This can unfortunately also apply to other family members who may not have believed you, or were aware of the abuse but did not have the capacity to help you with the problem. For many, estrangement may begin when someone speaks about the abuse or tries to heal the hurt caused.

Family members who are experiencing the symptoms of mental health difficulties, which are often not acknowledged or treated, may also cause distance. It can be difficult to deal with inconsistency from a close family member, particularly if that family member can’t understand and acknowledge the impact of their behavior on your own wellbeing.

Marriage and/or divorce are common features in estrangements, and often when your parents get divorced it can significantly alter your motivation to stay in touch with one or both of your parents. If your parents become re- married, this could again alter how you feel towards your family of origin. There are, of course, many other reasons why you may feel a relationship is untenable. And the points above are in no way exhaustive.

But whatever your circumstances, people often speak of the sadness of not being able to take part in the concept of family togetherness that is seen to be at the heart of society.

People may feel vilified, even after making the ‘best’ choice out of a set of hugely difficult life choices, or after being denied a voice in the process of expelling them from a family unit. There is simply no easy answer here.

Many people report that the moment in which they became estranged with family members or loved one, was a particularly insignificant thing. The trigger for estrangement could be as easy as a disagreement over the shirt you’re wearing. See, over time, it’s incredibly easy to let the issues you have with another person be pushed away, in order to keep a positive relationship with a loved one. Unfortunately, much like a balloon popping, the years of anger, hurt, and sadness can build up until they boil over, at which time, you or your loved one simply explode over something previously innocuous. In this case, the grief and sadness and anger will be felt right up front, and dealt with as additional time passes – in a perfect world, that is. Many people feel extreme emotions and emotional triggers throughout their life on significant days and often use talk therapy to cope with their feelings.

If you are in a position to make a more level-headed decision to estrange yourself, do not simply drop the issue of estrangement on your family member if at all possible.

Make yourself an itemized list of the reasons you feel you need to estrange yourself

Try instead to do it by measure, slowly reducing contact with your family member

Decide what the best method of doing this may be for you – phone calls, emails, visits, texts. This is important especially if you know you won’t be able to get “out of their grasp” in certain situations.

Decide how long you want to use this pre-estrangement – do you think six months is enough time? A year? A week? Your answer is as unique as you and shouldn’t be given as a standard amount of time. Just do it as comfortably for yourself as possible.

Some may find it easier to put the dates on the calendar – as a reminder to reach out to your loved one and to fix a time in which you’re going to make your devision.

This action plan may cause you some anxiety or guilt or other unpleasant feelings. If/when this happens take out your list of reasons why, in order to stay true to your course. You don’t need the extra stress of this situation becoming heated enough that it drives you back to your dysfunctional family.

After your estrangement date, this may help, if you’ve not yet decided one way or another, and you’re still calm and level-headed, you can try these steps:

If you’re feeling as though you’re ready to stop talking to them, write a letter, call, text, email, whatever method works for you, let them know that you need a break from them. Explain that you feel that taking some time apart could be helpful for you and them to take some time to figure out how to navigate the relationship better, and state, “Because I do want to get along with you and I do hope we can have a better relationship in the future.” (If you feel this way)

Estrangements are messy and emotional for all parties involved. If you can avoid an estrangement and find a way to improve the relationship dynamics, that may cause you less stress in the long run – because the stress of maintaining your estrangement can be overwhelming.

A big part of an estrangement – whether or not you decide to stick with it is learning to create healthy emotional boundaries. If you’re estranged from your family, you probably didn’t have a healthy relationship with them. THIS IS OKAY. It’s NOT all your fault.

Emotional boundaries are put into place and can either affect the relationship as a positive or a negative, and you’re the one who gets to decide which way the boundaries go.

What Are Emotional Boundaries?

Emotional boundaries distinguish separating your emotions and responsibility for them from someone else’s. It’s like an imaginary line or force field that separates you and others. Healthy boundaries prevent you from giving advice, blaming or accepting blame. They protect you from feeling guilty for someone else’s negative feelings or problems and taking others’ comments personally. High reactivity suggests weak emotional boundaries. Healthy emotional boundaries require clear internal boundaries – knowing your feelings and your responsibilities to yourself and others..

It’s hard for people who grow up in dysfunctional families to set boundaries because:

They put others’ needs and feelings first

They don’t know themselves

They don’t feel they have rights

They believe setting boundaries jeopardizes the relationship

They never learned to have healthy boundaries

Boundaries are learned. If yours weren’t valued as a child, you didn’t learn you had them.

Any kind of abuse violates personal boundaries, including teasing. For example, my brother ignored my pleas for him to stop tickling me until I could barely breathe. This made me feel powerless and that I didn’t have a right to say “stop” when I was uncomfortable. In some cases, boundary violations affect a child’s ability to mature into an independent, responsible adult.

You Have Rights

You may not believe you have any rights if yours weren’t respected growing up. For example, you have a right to privacy, to say “no,” to be addressed with courtesy and respect, to change your mind or cancel commitments, to ask people you hire to work the way you want, to ask for help, to be left alone, to conserve your energy, and not to answer a question, the phone, or an email.

Make a list your personal bill of rights.

Examples include: What prevents you from asserting them? Write statements expressing your bottom line. Be kind. For example, “Please don’t criticize (or call) me (or borrow my . . .),” and “Thank you for thinking of me, but I regret I won’t be joining (or able to help) you . . .”

Internal Boundaries

Internal boundaries involve regulating your relationship with yourself. Think of them as self-discipline and healthy management of time, thoughts, emotions, behavior, and impulses. If you’re procrastinating, doing things you neither have to nor want to do, or overdoing and not getting enough rest, recreation, or balanced meals, you may be neglecting internal physical boundaries. Learning to manage negative thoughts and feelings empowers you, as does the ability to follow through on goals and commitments to yourself.

Healthy emotional and mental internal boundaries help you not to assume responsibility for, or obsess about, other people’s feelings and problems – something codependents commonly do. Strong internal boundaries curb suggestibility. You think about yourself, rather than automatically agreeing with others’ criticism or advice. You’re then empowered to set external emotional boundaries if you choose.

Similarly, since you’re accountable for your feelings and actions, you don’t blame others.

When you’re blamed, if you don’t feel responsible, instead of defending yourself or apologizing, you can say, “I don’t take responsibility for that.”

Guilt and Resentment

Anger often is a signal that action is required.

If you feel resentful or victimized and are blaming someone or something, it might mean that you haven’t been setting boundaries. If you feel anxious or guilty about setting boundaries, remember, your relationship suffers when you’re unhappy.

Once you get practice setting boundaries, you feel empowered and suffer less anxiety, resentment, and guilt. Generally, you receive more respect from others and your relationships improve.

Setting Effective Boundaries

People often say they set a boundary, but it didn’t help. There’s an art to setting boundaries; if it’s done in anger or by nagging, you won’t be heard. Boundaries are not meant to punish, but are for your well-being and protection. They’re more effective when you’re assertive, calm, firm, and courteous. If that doesn’t work, you may need to communicate consequences to encourage compliance. It’s essential, however, that you never threaten a consequence you’re not fully prepared to carry out.

It takes time, support, and relearning to be able to set effective boundaries.

Self-awareness and learning to be assertive are the first steps. Setting boundaries isn’t selfish. It’s self-love – you say “yes” to yourself each time you say “no.” It builds self-esteem.

Coping With The Guilt of Estrangement:

Do you have family members you choose not to see or speak with? If so, you probably feel very sad about that, especially at a time of year when most families gather together. But if you’re also feeling guilty over it, it’s time to stop. Recent research has shed new light on the phenomenon of family estrangement. Here are some of the most surprising findings:

You Are Not Alone

In a British survey from 2014, 19 percent of respondents reported that either they themselves or one of their relatives had no contact with the family. That fits with my own experience. I have several friends who either don’t talk to at least one of their family members or didn’t for many years. And I myself have gone through lengthy periods when I was not on speaking terms with one relation or another. I’d bet you also know several people who are or have been estranged from their families. It’s not fun, but it happens a lot.

There’s A Reason You Decided To Stay Estranged

Most estranged people who stay away from their families or individual family members to save themselves from dysfunctional situations or behavior. In one study, adults who reported being estranged from their parents usually cited (physical or emotional) abuse, being betrayed or sabotaged by a parent, or very poor parenting in which they were endlessly criticized or shamed by their parents. If you’re estranged from your family, it probably isn’t something you did lightly.

It May Seem Stupid But It’s Valid

We’ve all heard about family members who stop speaking to each other over strikingly minor matters. And in a 2015 study, a woman told researchers she hadn’t spoken to her son or daughter-in-law for seven years because of a dessert they brought to a family gathering.

But these things are never as simple as they appear. In some cases, there were resentments and disagreements going back to childhood, and the fact that as adults, the two joined opposing political camps didn’t help.

The case of the wrong dessert was similar. That woman said her daughter-in-law regularly disrespected her and also prevented her from seeing her grandchildren. She’d been asked to bring a specific dessert but instead made something else–something she knew her mother-in-law was also making. That final bit of rudeness was too much to bear.

You Gave Them Chances

Estrangement doesn’t usually happen as a result of one big argument. It takes years for someone to break contact with a family member or family members. It happens gradually, with the family member reducing contact over time before cutting it off altogether.

During that lengthy process, you likely gave your relations lots of opportunities to start a dialogue. You might even have talked to them about the behavior that was driving you away and asked them to change it.

If you didn’t do that, and you think there’s a chance that things could change, it might be worth reaching out one time and making a final attempt to fix your relationship. Or maybe not–only you can know for sure. Either way, if you’re estranged from some or all of your family, there’s one thing to remember: You’re not alone.

Divorce and Estrangement:

Similarly, divorce is another area where estrangement occurs. During a bitter divorce that is full of contention and fighting, it is not uncommon for one parent to become estranged from the children involved. This is known as Parental Alienation Syndrome, and occurs often after a divorce, although it can also be caused by any of the other factors outlined above.

Divorce greatly increases the risk of estrangement. It often creates a fundamental reshaping of alliances and can place parents at risk for greater distance from their children. Whether it’s a grey divorce or a breakup when the child is young, it often causes a child to see parents as winners and losers. Second, it can create the opportunity for parental alienation where one parent consciously or unconsciously (covertly or overtly) poisons the child against the other parent. Children, especially when they are young, are very vulnerable after divorce. Divorce can also bring new people into a child’s life (new sibling, half sibling, step-parent) and they may feel they have to compete for love, attention, or resources

Finally, in our culture, divorce can cause a child to see their parent as an individual with their own attributes and liabilities—and less of a family unit that they’re part of.he concept of one parent attempting to separate their child from the other parent as punishment or part of a divorce have been described since at least the 1940s, Gardner was the first to define a specific syndrome. In his 1985 paper, he defined PAS as “…a disorder that arises primarily in the context of child-custody disputes. Its primary manifestation is the child’s campaign of denigration against the parent, a campaign that has no justification. The disorder results from the combination of indoctrinations by the alienating parent and the child’s own contributions to the vilification of the alienated parent,”

>He also stated that the indoctrination may be deliberate or unconscious on the part of the alienating parent.

Gardner initially believed that parents (usually mothers) made false accusations of child abuse and sexual abuse against the other parent (usually fathers) in order to prevent further contact between them While Gardner initially described the mother as the alienator in 90% of PAS cases, he later stated both parents were equally likely to alienate.

The Grief Of Estrangement:

You may be estranged from your loved ones because of a fight or disagreement you’ve had. Attachment is often a part of estrangement. Issues with attachment can be expressed in many ways, which may result in an individual feeling the need or desire to fix or resolve conflicts or in individuals feeling that they are misunderstood or looked upon with disapproval.

You may also be grieving what you never got from the relationship—love, approval, attention.

Often those who have been cut off by a loved one react with anger, telling themselves, “I’m better off without her!” But, “underneath the anger, there’s usu­ally sadness. You need to acknowl­edge, ‘I’m sad because this is a genuine loss.’ Otherwise your feel­ings will remain stuck.”  Permanent estrangements can be cloaked in shame and stigma.

Estrangement causes a unique form of grief, in that hope is often held out for a reparation in the relationship, keeping the pain and grief current and raw. Further, repeated interactions that follow the same pattern of expectations and ultimate disappointment when those expectations are unmet, keep the grief close at hand.

When a person is estranged by a family member, they generally experience a range of immediate grief, loss, and trauma responses. Bodily responses such as shaking, crying and feeling faint are common, alongside emotional responses such as disbelief, denial and anger. People often ruminate over the estrangement event or the events that led up to the estrangement. Over time, most acute emotions and bodily responses seem to decrease in intensity, and generalized feelings of hurt, betrayal and disappointment might emerge.

Even when the estrangement has continued for years or decades, many people suggest the pain persists or re-occurs at particular times. Triggers such as birthdays, Christmas, Mother’s Day and funerals are difficult. So are sightings of the estranged person, or hearing about them from others. Triggers can sometimes cause a person to re-live and re-experience the initial grief, loss and trauma responses, while other times they can be managed.

Most of the people I have spoken to suggest that being estranged by a family member is one of the most painful events across the lifespan. It is intensified by:

It’s unexpectedness,

its ambiguous nature,

The powerlessness it creates

Social disapproval.

First, when a person is estranged by another, they generally do not expect it to happen. Studies suggest that trauma is increased when it is enacted by humans rather than an act of nature, and this is even more so when that human is a family member.

We are biologically attached to family and socially acculturated into idea of family togetherness. We do not expect an estrangement.

Second, estrangement is ambiguous. It has lacks transparency, and it cannot be readily understood. The loss is ambiguous because the estranged person is physically absent, but psychologically present (in the memories of the estranged person, and the triggers). It is not certain if the family member will ever return, so there is no finality or closure to the event.

Third, people who have been estranged by a loved one often describe feelings of incredible powerlessness. When someone has been cut off, they cannot tell their side of the story, ask questions or apologize. Without interaction the estranged person is often left wondering and ruminating about the truth, with no means of discovering it.

Estrangement of Mothers And Daughters:

The decision to go no-contact with a family member is a deeply personal one. For some of us, it’s impossible to heal ourselves and remain in connection with our mothers.

It’s still considered taboo to be estranged from one’s family; especially to be estranged from one’s mother. Sometimes the distance can be brief and short-term while for others, the estrangement can be permanent. It takes enormous strength and fortitude to follow through with this.

What can lead to estrangement?

There are so many reasons why people make this choice. But a core theme leading to estrangement is realizing that your mother’s dysfunctional behavior has demanded an enormous cost to your mental/emotional well-being and you’re simply no longer willing to pay that cost.

Estrangement isn’t something chosen in a flippant, cavalier way, but rather it is often a choice made after years of trying every other possible avenue to preserve the connection and see it evolve.

At a certain point, you may reach a crossroads where the cost is too much, and you have to make a choice. It may be the hardest thing you ever do in your entire life. And it may be the single most empowering thing as well.

Families are complicated systems. When one person stops playing their usual role in the family, this family will often experience some degree of disequilibrium or chaos. Conflict can serve to transform the system to a higher level, if the family members are willing and open to grow and learn. Unfortunately, sometimes, in an attempt to resist change, the family attacks the person trying to grow. That person has the choice to stay and suffer the toxicity or to heal and leave the unhealthy system.

The choice to terminate contact is often made when it’s clear that it’s impossible to heal while still involved in that family.

Daughters often play the roles of family mediator, scapegoat, keeper of secrets, or emotional caretaker. If a daughter on a path of growth and wishes to evolve beyond her typical role in the family, (perhaps by being more empowered, having firmer boundaries, being less tolerant of poor treatment) the degree of chaos that ensues is indicative of how dysfunctional the family is as a whole.

If the family members are each relatively healthy, stable, and open, the family may be able to find a new equilibrium without much chaos. However, if the family members are deeply wounded or traumatized themselves, a daughter’s evolution can be perceived as deeply threatening. This chaos can be deeply unsettling and extremely hard to navigate. Support is essential.

In an unconscious attempt to maintain equilibrium and resist change, family members may launch attacks against the daughter.

A common and virulent form of backlash is “Pathologizing” the daughter: Seeing the conflict as a result of some form of pathology in the daughter.

The message is “Your unwillingness to continue in the family system in your established role shows us that there is something deeply wrong with you.”

This shame-based narrative abdicates the mother and other family members from honestly examining their own behavior and taking responsibility. The daughter’s level of mental stability, her past mistakes, everything about her may be openly questioned, that is, except the role of her mother in the conflict.

It’s amazing how vehemently people resist looking at their stuff and the lengths they will go to remain in denial of it, including ostracizing their own child. This is actually an unconscious attempt to resist change by projecting all the conflict or “badness” onto the person initiating transformation of the family system.

Ultimately, this is not personal, it’s simply what happens when people who haven’t been dealing with their inner selves are confronted with their disowned pain through a catalyzing event, like a woman in the family growing beyond the predominant dynamics that have kept the family in a stable state for generations.

We can’t save our mothers. We can’t save our families. We can only save ourselves.

You don’t need your mother (or other family members) to understand you in order to fully heal.

It’s heartbreaking to realize that your mother/family are simply unable or unwilling to understand you. No matter how much you explain or how many attempts to convince them of where you’re coming from, it goes nowhere; like you’re speaking two different languages. Learning to understand you may cause a major shift in the very foundation upon which they’ve built their identities and worldview.

It’s painful to realize and still it helps to create a singularity of spirit within you. It becomes clear that your own understanding of yourself must be enough. Your validation of yourself becomes primary. You realize you can be okay even if others do not understand you.

After you go no contact, your life may begin to improve in many area; chronic illnesses clear up, neurotic fears vanish and life-long patterns dissolve. It’s worth noting that sometimes the challenge for you becomes enduring the pleasure of your own life.

See, with each new level of increased prosperity, increased intimacy, joy, freedom, you are reminded that your family is not there to share it with you. It’s particularly at these horizons where we may experience the turbulence of grief. There’s nothing to do but feel the grief that comes with that and allow yourself to move forward.

The grief doesn’t mean you’ve made the wrong choice. It’s actually a sign of health and healing. 

Keep yourself grounded in your new life, the one that gave you the strength to leave the toxic connection. If you don’t, you could get pulled back through guilt or shame. It’s so important to get lots of support and give yourself time and space to process all the emotions that come with this choice. Ground yourself in exactly why you’re doing this and use it as an opportunity to birth you into a new paradigm in your life.

Estrangement Leads To Empowerment

You may discover something deeply profound: you realize that you can survive your family’s rejection of you. This can birth a level of freedom and determination within you that may initiate quantum leaps in your life. It can spur a fierce commitment to truth and carve out a radical integrity that extends to other areas of your life. It stokes a fire of truth within you that now can blaze fully.

You feel your own source within.

Grief, grief, and more grief gives way to… FREEDOM

Grief may arise every time you go to a new, higher level that your family have never been. It may feel like a bone-deep grief, almost tribal or ancestral, a grief of having to go forward without them. And it gets easier and easier with time; the more we lovingly allow ourselves to grieve, the more space is created for magic, beauty and joy in our lives. There is something deeply sacred about the grief that comes from making this choice. It can serve as an opportunity to deeply connect to your truth and to embodying it at the deepest level.

We must make meaning from this loss and use it to enhance our lives in new ways. That’s the key to long-term healing.

Your integrity becomes the solid foundation for the rest of your life.

It’s okay to walk away from toxic people in your life, including toxic people in your family.

Healing inter-generational wounds can be a lonely path. But within the space you created, soulful connections will come into your life. Our attachment needs are the most powerful need we have as humans.

To face this level of estrangement is to confront the depth of your pain, of your humanity, and to claim the full the value of your own life. Our greatest fear is that we will be alone. But the aloneness that we fear has already happened in the trauma of our families. You’re not alone and you will find your soul family in time, people who are capable of seeing and valuing you for who you are.

In a world where women are predominantly expected to stay silent, to cater to the needs of others and where the darker side of mothers is not acknowledged, the experience of estrangement can be an initiation into a new level of awareness that many people never experience. A space is cleared to allow your light to shine at full radiance.

What will you do with this light blazing within you? 

Estranged daughters are finding each other, creating a new mother line; a connection of authenticity, realness and truth in each other that supports the arising consciousness in all. There is often instant camaraderie between women who have walked this path. There’s more of us out there than many people realize. You’re not alone!

You have to do what is right for you. Trust yourself.

Estrangement doesn’t necessarily mean you don’t love your family.

It doesn’t mean you’re not grateful for the good things they gave you. It just means you need space to live your own life the way you want to live it.

Women who feel no choice but to go no-contact with their dysfunctional mothers create the break because it’s the only way to send the powerful message that:

“Mother, your life is your own responsibility as my life is mine. I refuse to be sacrificed on the altar of your pain. I refuse to be a casualty of your war. Even if you are incapable of understanding me, I must go my own way. I must choose to truly live.”

Reconciling Estrangement:

The first step to healing an estranged relationship is forgiveness. This is a very difficult first step, but holding on to resentment, anger, and hatred does not foster healthy and positive relationships.

After deciding that a relationship is beyond repair, it can be overwhelming and scary to consider reconciling an estranged relationship. The following tips are important when beginning the reconciliation process:

Has emotional growth occurred since the last contact?

Can I set and maintain appropriate boundaries?

Do I need to “change” the other person or his or her beliefs about a situation?

Do I have my own identity, or am I overwhelmed by another’s opinion?

Am I still angry?

Validating your feelings about the situation is important during the reconciliation process, as a lot of feelings are likely to occur. Recognize that is may be a slow process of building trust and re-learning the other person, and establishing a new relationship.

Focus on the positive and find new ways to establish common ground. Meet in a neutral location, and do not discuss difficult issues.

Repairing an estranged relationship is often very similar to building a new relationship. Do not expect that everything will be perfect right away. There are often setbacks, hiccups, and issues that may need to be navigated throughout the process.

And finally, keep in mind that you are not responsible for the entire relationship, nor can you control the entire relationship.

If you never, ever feel like reconciliation, that too, is okay.