#faulty childhood programming

[usunezukoinezu]

''People who lacked emotional engagement in childhood, men and women alike, often can’t believe that someone would want to have a relationship with them just because of who they are. They believe that if they want closeness, they must play a role that always puts the other person first.''

-Lindsay C. Gibson, Adult Children of Emotionally Immature Parents

[aealrizen]

Childhood was half a memory even before Midas had lost everything. He was stuck inside a lot, sometimes unable to leave the hospital bed on his own. His father was always there, as his caretaker and support. Some days were good, almost normal. Other days there wasn’t much more Hesopher could do other than cradle Midas in a ball as he sobbed, waiting for the painkillers to dull the ache. Midas had taken to more mild hobbies because of it. A lot of books were borrowed, puzzles created for him as he got bored of the others being too easy. Time spent on his dad’s lap watching him program very simple software had piqued Midas’ interest when he was a toddler, and being confined to bed rest often had only nurtured his soon insatiable interest. Hesopher often found broken machines dismantled in Midas’ room, only to be reassembled sometime later into something functioning, but often scraped together into another purpose.

It was from Midas that the idea had come. A twelve year old boy absorbing the contents of a huge book as though it could provide more nutrients for his thin body than the sandwich he was absently nibbling out of obedience and not desire.

“Hey Dad?” Midas called, finally willing the courage to ask.

“Hmm?” Hesopher hummed, looking over from his computer to give his son his full attention. He often worked in the same room, just to be there when he was needed as well as unable to let a single moment go just in case Midas wouldn’t be there much longer.

“What if…,” Midas started, pausing to chew his lip gently before hesitantly continuing as he looked to his dad. “What if I became a cyborg? Wouldn’t that cure me?”

The question stunned Hesopher into silence, all of the warnings and condemnation associated with the brand flooding into his mind along with a distinct unwillingness to ever let his son be associated with the stigma. But he wasn’t stupid. He hadn’t thought of it before, but it actually made perfect sense. Replace the bones that housed the faulty blood. A nanite system to monitor his son’s health and help stabilize it. Take all the technology keeping Midas alive, make most of it microscopic, and put it inside Midas’ body. It sounded like a terrifying wish granted by mythical fae.

Hesopher found himself unable to respond, and Midas took that as a suggestion that his idea might be considered. “Leukemia is listed as one of the cancers they were able to cure in the past,” he spoke, voice cautious as he was expecting the same reaction he’d heard so many times before from other people. Don’t ever talk about cyborgs. Don’t even mention that accursed practice. Cyborgs were the reason the world was the way it is now. Broken, barren, stripped of humanity like the machines that had made it that way. But with what he knew, and with half his life being taken from him already, Midas was starting to feel it would be better to be called a monster than unable to get out of bed on his own, and held the book he was reading up to the page that proved his claim.

“But…,” Hesopher finally found his voice again, and it was void of any anger. Just a mix of fear and extremely hesitant hope. “The cyborgs all went berserk. It’s not a stable state of being,” he reluctantly repeated history, sliding the wheeled chair over to the bedside to show that he wasn’t opposed to the conversation. He just didn’t see how it could work without cursing his son to madness.

Midas took that as encouragement to continue, drawing a breath bubbling in excitement. “That’s just it though. Machines can’t go berserk. It’s impossible. You know that. You know just how stupid computers really are. How many times have we both been cursing at how dumb the computer is just because we forgot to tell it to do, or not to do something that humans intuitively figure out on their own?” Midas scooted closer to his dad, the blood transfusion tube connected to him today following and his foot nudging one of the recent projects on the bed. “You see it, don’t you? Machines can only do what they’re programmed to do. What humans tell them to do. The cyborgs didn’t just randomly go berserk, someone programmed them to do it.”

It was true. Hesopher had never really thought about it considering cybernetic study was practically taboo now, and the events of history had happened more than a hundred years ago. But what Midas said made sense. Horrifying sense, but sense nonetheless. The idea that someone had programmed the cyborg apocalypse made more sense to Hesopher’s mind than the historically carried idea that it had just happened like some sort of machine uprising.

His silence only encouraged Midas to continue, repeating his argument and addressing additional concerns as they came up. 

“Machines can only do what humans tell them to. What they’re programmed to do. So someone had to program the berserk virus. Humanity’s greatest predator is still ourselves.” Midas paused only to flip back to a previous page in the book, showing the section about how each cyborg in the past had been given a unique 2400 character passcode that had to be used when they were getting any maintenance. “ In the past, cybernetic components were still left open to a network to allow for maintenance. They had an in that any hacker that was angry enough could have easily gotten into, especially since they kept all the codes in one place, since it was the same company that monopolized cybernetic implants. But there’s two cyborgs that are well known to have never gone berserk, despite being in the middle of them constantly.”

Hesopher paid attention as his son showed him another page, realizing that this had been something Midas had spent a lot of time thinking about before today, the faces of the two cyborg war heroes printed on the page speaking of their unique cases. “...They somehow ended up with hermetic codes,” Hesopher repeated the historically accepted consensus for why those two heroes were immune to the berserker virus. “But no one knows how to recreate them. Humans are too unique and varied, no one can figure out how to make a code that matches them.”

“Then why not just let them write their own hermetic code?” Midas asked, as though he was answering a question a bunch of small children were puzzling over. “Sometimes humans spend so long trying to recreate what already exists. Every human is completely unique. Every human is nature’s own hermetic code. It was a happenstance in the past that the nanite code would be similar enough to those guys’ biology that it would form a hermetic code on its own, and they probably ended up modifying their own code enough to detach it from C-Tech’s old database. But what if we just don’t give them a code? What if we just tell them they have to have a code, and let the nanites create one along with their human host? Adopt their biological signature as their own. Completely. Humans have always had a knack for adapting. So why not let them write their own code?”

It sounded too simple to be the actual answer. But that was also part of the reason it made sense. If, following Midas’ logic stemming from the berserker virus being made by humans, and spread because someone essentially took over the control someone else already had over the cyborgs, then it would be easy to explain the apparent accident. It made way more sense to Hesopher than the excuse that it was just a fault with machines that were too intelligent. Machines weren’t intelligent, just obedient. Unquestioningly obedient, and diligent. So in the wrong hands they were definitely destructive instead of helpful. And humans were notorious for being destructive even before the existence of computers.

So if they made sure no one had control but the person the machines were part of?

Hesopher drew a sharp inhale, rising to his feet abruptly enough he caused the chair to tip and thump back to the floor loudly. He wouldn’t agree to it just yet, but it was the first time in years there had been an option that might save his son. “We have to test it first. Not on you,” he relented, feeling his heart melt when Midas gained the most genuine and excited smile he’d seen since he’d been a small child.

“Thanks Dad,” Midas breathed, flinging his hands around Hesopher’s neck to hug him as tightly as his thin arms would let him.

Hesopher’s return hug was much more gentle, wanting to smother his brilliant, stubborn, hopeful son but also not wanting to hurt him. They wouldn’t be able to ask for help, and wouldn’t be able to tell anyone what they were planning. It wasn’t like C-Tech had given up their hold on cybernetic technology after all. On the surface C-Tech claimed a worldwide ban on even the theoretical research of human integrated cybernetics. Forcing those who studied critical parts of similar studies to be registered in their database. There were even cases of people being executed for getting on C-tech’s bad side. It was risky, and if they succeeded he and Midas might end up exiled from Eutoli. But that was worth it to Hesopher if it meant keeping Midas alive, and being able to make him healthy enough to live a life outside of a hospital room.

____________________________

First

____________________________

fluffy socks and a cozy hat for the boy 'cause he gets cold easily =3=

[ghostofnoir]

✨Tag Game✨

Thank you @greattemptation for the tag. I always enjoy reading these and getting to know everyone

Nickname: Nox, J-Cutta (sounds gangster but was really just an affectionate childhood nickname)

Zodiac: Sagittarius. I don’t really know how to make zodiac jokes but as a winter baby I’m now very worried about schizophrenia!?! (GT!!!)

Height: 5’7. I swear I used to be taller but a faulty spine and slumped shoulders from the crushing weight of the human experience shaved a few inches

Sleep: Yes

Last thing I googled: vrbo Florida rentals. My sister is trying to rope me into helping her spy on her young teen children at summer camp next week 🤣

Dream Job: Sleep

Movie/Book describes me best: Dazed and Confused (high school) /Nick and Nora’s infinite Playlist (college) /And While We Were Here (20’s) /Dan in Real Life (30’s)

Fav Song at the Moment: impossible! According to my song history The Weekend ‘Gasoline’ The Driver Era ‘Back to you’ Sade ‘Is it a Crime’

Fave Instrument: the magical harmony of the collective?

Fav Author: Sarah Kendzior - a poignant birds eye view of sobering perspective

Random Facts: in college my mom ran track for one of the first female American college track programs. She won gold at the jr Olympics!!

Spill it! If you want want too 😝 @dracoandthehounds @drarrymyheart @faiell @garagepaperback @romaine2424 @hoko-onchi-writes @gotoemopunk @roseharpermaxwell - and anyone else who would like to join!!

[blackwldcw]

Muse vs. Mun

Similarities:

Very intelligent. Mun had a 4.5 high school GPA and a 3.98 university GPA. Had straight A's through nursing academy labs, the English Literature program, and graduate program of education.

Also very clever. We know how to read people due to trauma. People think we have this uncanny ability to read in between the lines and predict what others are thinking.

Flexible and very good at dancing. Our fighting styles are also more akin to dancing than most-- Mun has taken taekwondo, belly-dancing, and sword-fighting lessons.

We're both goth lol.

We're both polyamorous! Mun has two partners irl (and not necessarily averse to more), and BA is in an open poly relationship with Blitzwing.

We overthink things. A lot. We also shake hands on having contamination OCD and BPD. However, we both recognise our sometimes faulty way of thinking and are seeking help. Mun has recently had to quit therapy due to money issues, but I will be starting it again once our other partner moves in, and Zim and I have a third source of income. BA also has a therapist in her main IDW verse.

We both use she/they and identify as non-binary.

We both have mommy issues. OOF.

We're both nocturnal by nature and love insects. However, while I love spiders, my favourites are cicadas and praying mantises.

We share all the same kinks

Differences:

Mun loves to write as a therapeutic hobby, while BA prefers scientific and historical research. Their writing style is clinical and aloof (and probably formatted in APA). I, however, model my writing style after the likes of Poe, Lovecraft, and Barker.

BA prefers soft or liquid foods, while I like savoury things like steak.

While BA has distanced themself from anything spiritual due to childhood religious trauma, my own trauma has caused me to embrace being a pagan and a witch. I worship the Norse pantheon, Lokí more specifically.

BA has made war-turning inventions, while the most I've done is make aspirin from scratch in a lab lol.

I love and miss my childhood home in California, while BA won't go back to the web-weaver tribe if you paid them.

BA has a fear of water/drowning, while I love the beach and swimming.

They are,,, a lot more patient than me lol. I have a more explosive temper and will get myself into a sticky situation rather than bide my time.

tagged by: stolen from the bae @xxdoctor-djdxx

tagging: @hellfire-saurian, @13urningstars, @riflesparked, @shiningsilverarmor, @captainseamech, & you!

[ask-lunticas-characters]

How are you both PDA and a programmed system? The PDA profile of autism is a neurotype that causes a pathological aversion to anything that even seems like a loss of autonomy. PDA autistics can't follow orders, directions, or suggestions. Programmed systems are highly suggestible. Programming doesn't work on people who aren't highly suggestible. Programming is like the biggest violation of autonomy ever. These two things are huge contradictions. I don't get it. Maybe your trauma is giving you symptoms that look a lot like PDA?

Childhood abuse, torture

Being undiagnosed, afab, means that I was seen as trouble making, uncooperative, and only useful for sexual stuff. Especially drugged.

Soma, a name we knew was tied to the abuse somehow is the name of a type of muscle relaxant.

The alter soma is able to process information from the outside world while drugged.

Has been able to wake up from any sleep meds we've used, and has been able to just "stop" fainting spells.

We have to assume one that programs, no matter how expected they are to work, are inherently faulty due to humans not being computers (though computers constantly have bugs) and the abusers arnt always the smartest.

We were the child our uncle could reach, train, and send to his higher ups to train. By 7 we were deemed to much trouble and they primarily focused on the memory barriers after that. And about 12 we were mostly just watched.

Don't tell us again what our experience is thank you

[ruvviks]

viktor and mama welles for vitali teehee

oc get-along asks!

🩺 - viktor vektor

vitali and viktor get along very well! they met when vitali was 18 and back then, vitali was very wary of viktor at first because of his own issues with his father and general trust issues. he quickly grew to like him though and as a way to find a healthier outlet for his anger he picked up boxing which he would do with viktor and jackie :]

viktor did vitali's top surgery also and kept doing regular checkups and blood tests all for free, since he knew that vitali was struggling a lot with money in his college years. when vitali went to join the arasaka training program and then joined the corporation itself, he lost contact with viktor a little bit- mostly because vitali believed that people would judge him for his decision and leave anyway, so he believed it would be less painful to be the one to leave himself

however, viktor was mostly just worried about vitali. he understood vitali's dream and how he hoped to be able to reconnect with his family again, but also knew how arasaka would just end up ruining him completely and often tried to gently coax him away from the idea in conversations. he failed, but didn't leave vitali's side and as soon as vitali was fired, viktor was the first one to reach out to him after jackie. the faulty arasaka tech vitali still had installed in his chest was also taken out by viktor, the very next day

nowadays, the two of them have a mostly professional relationship, occasionally sending business each other's way and vitali even went as far as offering viktor a fulltime job at his office; viktor politely declined but still works there 1-3 days in the week, depending on the circumstances and if they have mikhail stationed in the medbay that day or not

vitali feels very guilty still for kind of "abandoning" viktor when he was younger, and especially now that jackie has passed away he's trying very hard to show viktor that he really appreciates him. it's already there in the broker fic too- vitali feels safe with viktor and in one of his lowest moments he manages to find his way to viktor's shop of all places, without really understanding why or how he even got there

in return, viktor often needs to remind himself that he's not vitali's father. especially now with matvey being around and doing his hot girl shit, viktor is around a LOT more often to keep an eye on vitali and to make sure he doesn't fall back into bad habits because of it all

❔ - mama welles

mama welles is basically just vitali's mother. he has known her for most of his life because she was childhood best friends with nadya and used to be around very often when vitali was still a toddler (that's also how he met jackie). but, as also mentioned by her in last chapter, nadya changed and she and mama welles grew apart, so vitali would then only see her occasionally when he would be playing at jackie's place

jackie and vitali would often get into trouble and mama welles would be strict on occasions, but never in the way nadya was; nadya would actively punish vitali by sending him to his room, or forcing him to skip a meal, taking away his stuff, etc, while mama welles would simply give the two of them a stern talk and explain why they had to be careful in night city. her advice stuck a lot better with vitali than anything his own mother ever "tried to teach" him so he grew up to have a LOT of respect for mama welles

in return, mama welles was probably the first to notice vitali was struggling with his identity. she never said anything to him or forced him to talk about it, but did often tell him that if he ever needed to talk about anything, she would be there. however, vitali lost contact with jackie when he started high school, meaning he wasn't even able to talk to mama welles after he had come out to his family at age 15

after reuniting with jackie when vitali started college, he'd occasionally stop by again and after his breakdown in his final year, mama welles cut his hair for him and ever since then she's been doing that. when vitali was fired, mama welles was the one to suggest he'd move in with her and jackie for a while; vitali had almost no money left because arasaka had taken most if not all of it, and even though he was hesitant he accepted the offer

after jackie passed away, vitali lost contact with mama welles a little bit which he still feels very bad about. he was too preoccupied with finding a way to get rid of the relic in vincent's head and didn't find the time to visit her every now and then like he had wanted to do after jackie's ofrenda

nowadays, he still rarely visits her because he has a lot of things to worry about. he ends up at the bar after coming face to face with nadya- also not sure how he got there, but seeing mama welles makes him feel better instantly

vitali cares a lot about her. he refuses to put too much thought into any of it but does really see her as a parental figure and especially now that jackie is no longer there he wants to be there a lot more for her to make sure she's doing well

in return, mama welles loves vitali very much and she's not afraid to admit she sees him as her son. she's known him for so long and he's told her things he has never even told nadya about; and he has always helped her whenever she or jackie needed it and has never abandoned either of them and she will always be grateful for that

[thvnderr]

@pcisxnivys Continuing from here...

It was more about testing the grounds and curiosity rather than an endorsement for a more saintly life. His own persona resting back on the chair with a fingertip tracing over the edge of the porcelain cup. His response was not much of a surprise knowing the bluntness that the tattooist used to carry himself; a hard life stones someone's soul and moral compass until they are nothing but old souvenirs stored in the chest — he could understand that — it had taken Sky some good time to break through and polish the practiced kindness into an actual personality trait of his. "Some would argue that the preservation of others helps with the preservation of oneself if said person lives in a community".

"I see", he briefly commented as Atticus explained the situation of his childhood, and so, he understood how such an upbringing could cause lack of empathy for others' problems. "Your community failed you, I apologize for my previous words, I did not have idea", he commented in the same calm and melodic tone before bringing the cup to his lips, tasting the flowery scents that the bronze liquid permeated into his tongue. He took the moment afterwards to take a look at the rest of the place, quite lavish and clean, opposite to most of the places where people would gather here in Anchorage. Sky wondered what it was that made the few fortunate ones want to stay in this hellish freezer instead of migrating to literal greener pastures. Were they all too acknowledge with the purple fingers and the dull colors? He had a mission there, friends even that helped to make of his stay something more amicable, but he guessed that with the lack of any of these, he would have fled at the first notice of a killer on the loose. Why bother dealing with safety when he could be getting dizzy at after parties and snobby cocktail events? "So you and your brother do not get along much? I understand you both run very opposite types of lives", Sky said, "I always wished for siblings, but never had the fortune of one", he hummed. A little smile toyed with the corner of his lips at the statement about him and Micah. Oh, he had lived his own days of misery, the program being able to leave their employees to their own to test their resilience, but truth was, he was far too accustomed to the faultless lifestyle he ran with now. "It is impossible for the human being to completely understand the position of the other, be animal, plant or person; but I do appreciate all kinds of tales in case you want to share more; I may not empathize entirely, but I think I have heart enough to listen intently without condescendence. What kind of jobs have you had in the past, if you do not mind me asking? The conversation can head some other way if I am being too nosy", he declared with a brighter smile.

Sky had been fiddling lightly with the tea cup, but as his company proceed to ask questions, the second more piercing than the other, he laid the porcelain down with a very quiet ring of the material; the words clearing any other kind of thought he could be having and he did not fight to make it less obvious. "The world up where Micah and I grew up has its own horrors, its own dogs devouring each other merciless just as where you grew up; but these fights look different, more about backstabbing and venom, but just as visceral and deathly—", a soft chuckle dragged half of his lips up, "— I'm sure your wife has talked to you about it", he added while his fingers intertwined on the table in a proper posture, leaning his own body forward. "What I mean is, we are not allowed for much of a guilty conscience if we want to survive either. In fact, I already receive a lot of well-derserved scorn for my affinity to the arts and nature. My faulty curiosity has made me develop sympathy for those around me, but I am very well capable of shutting it down when necessary. Very few instances have required it, though, and I intend to keep it that way. Living with bitterness in my heart has proved to cause more wrinkles", Sky laughed, but it was soft and sweet as if not admitting hard cruelty also rested in his bones. Still, the smile vanished a little at the thought of his ex-fiancée. "It would be futile to pretend I was not affected by her departure. Her safety was priority and I always got sure to establish that with her. Hansa's parents were also rather concerned and for the sake of all, she left", he explained, although could he really know? Even if he felt everything was real for the first time, there was no point on denying he felt insecure about it; like she had played back the same card he slammed on the table months ago; and with very good reason. Sky had no right to feel bad at all, so whatever had been her decision, she had to respect it. "I did promise I would take care of myself while investigating everything and if you allow me to go back to my first point, I find out that taking care of others is usually the easiest way I can take care of myself. Healthy relationships have been more fruitful and resourceful to me rather that dry ones", he made a pause, sipped from his tea and nodded, "yes, maybe my short time with Hansa did soften my heart a little bit", he concluded. "But what about you and Micah? How did you guys meet each other?"

[hoursofreading]

So I actually started my career in public education, I was a fourth grade teacher outside Phoenix. I was intensely focused on questions of educational equity: how do we ensure that a child’s zip code isn’t so deterministic of their life opportunities? And at the time, I thought schools were the answer (I was, it will probably not shock you to hear, part of Teach For America back in its heyday). I’ve always been interested in large systems-level questions — how do we change the odds altogether instead of just finding pockets that can beat the odds? So after teaching I went and got an education policy degree and spent quite a few years working on different facets of school reform. But I started to get frustrated. Because even though schools are inarguably important, we were pouring all this time and attention and money and personpower into the school day, and we weren’t seeing anywhere in the whole country sustainably transforming their outcomes. I stepped back and started to question the theory of change — what was missing? And when you ask that question, you very quickly end up in the dual world of early childhood development and family stability/economic security: an intersection where child care lives. So I shifted my full-time work to focus on child care & early education. The thing you quickly realize when going from K-12 education to the early years is that one has a LOT of money and the other has almost none. To put that into perspective, the U.S. spends over $800 billion a year in public money on K-12, and less than $40 billion on child care. And I started to question: why, why, why? Why do we treat the first five years of life, not to mention the hours/months outside of the school day & day, so radically differently? Why does it seem like we generally accept the premise that education is something to be provided for free, universally, to you and me and Jeff Bezos and whoever else, while care care is seen as an individual family obligation where you better not expect government help? That’s what led me to write Crawling Behind, which tried to unpack these questions and posit a simple counter: what if child care were free? The book dropped in 2019 right in the middle of a Democratic primary where child care was a fairly prominent issue, and then of course COVID put care in a harsh spotlight, so I have had increasing opportunities to write and speak and engage around child care issues. And I’ve become convinced that even some of my earlier work still accepted faulty premises. Child care isn’t just a program, it’s a human activity that undergirds all sorts of flourishing and freedom. Child care, in my view, should be seen as an American value and part of vital American social infrastructure right alongside schools and parks and libraries. Child care supports the healthy development of children, families, and communities. And when you start seeing child care in that light, it opens a whole different way of thinking and talking about the topic.

Guess What Private Equity is Doing to Childcare

[lesser-mook]

Female privilege. (source post) *twitter (Equal Rights, Her Advantage)

This ain't news, ppl programmed to activate in women's favor like we would a helpless child. Same energy.

Then so many of em grow up infantile, entitled, no accountability, & think/know they're untouchable,

Then we wonder where karens come from.

For real, how are we holding it against some women when they act like insufferable babies when they're of age when WE DO SHIT LIKE this when they're young. Literally protecting them from any consequence of their actions.

Which signals to them "Hm, so no matter what i do, he's wrong if he reacts.

-Does my life matter more than his?"

And boom. Seed planted.

Entitlment stats: 50+

Abuse & mistreatment is one thing, but we are coddling girls then call them thots & all this other stuff when they EXPECT the privilege to continue when they're bigger.

A child makes this rationalization whenever they're not punished, that's how you get psycho-shooters.

SO? If we blame the parent for a faulty child, i believe it's high time we blame each other (proxy: society, we are society) for creating a generation of entitled grownass brats.

And it starts here, childhood:

"Male lives don't matter" / expendable is serious propaganda

Then it's no wonder how or WHY fetishes like macrophilia/giantess manifest where the entire point is to dehumanize males and vindicate women being psychopaths, zero accountability is the narrative for women in the fetish because zero accountability is the narrative for women IRL-

Sad. This is why you don't drop your babies.

A symptom of cultural abuse, and society actually convinced some to like it, obsess over it, shrine it, and devote more energy to indulging in glorified stockholm syndrome than one would to make a marriage work, their goddamn kids, or learning a language, 3 things that actually add something substantial to your life.

Society fails men AND women, all with a smile.

[characteroulette]

The more Dante thought about it, the more uncomfortable he was with the thought of either Vektor or Vektoria getting involved in any sort of romantic relationship with a human. They were both just learning programs, capable of appearing alive enough to fool most humans into thinking they belonged when that couldn't be further from the truth. Were they capable of mimicking such sentiments? Did they truly feel anything? Or was it all just a trick of their coding? Was Dante just like them in that sense? He shoved that thought aside adamantly. He was human, alive, not just code and faulty programming. He had to be. He looked too much like his parents to be anything artificial. He remembered enough of his childhood before Hell to be a changeling or some equal creature taking the place of a poor human child. He had to be real and alive. The alternative was much too terrifying. But did that make Vektor and Vektoria any less alive when they were here, outside of the game?

-Fire and Wolf, Chapter 13

[eraserror404]

autistic headcanons about aizawa (detailed post):

• showed many typical signs of autism since childhood, but was diagnosed only in his older teens due to the neglect of his parents

• the first or one of the first special interests was quirks. he could study the open state register for hours, memorizing the names, descriptions and registration numbers of quirks. this was very useful to them in their heroic work in the future

• the next special interest was astrophysics. he was always fascinated by space, he was delighted with the paradoxical nature of the universe and could have infodumped about it for hours if someone had agreed to listen

• (no one agreed. the first really interested interlocutor on this topic was thirteen. they began to communicate on the basis of a passion for space)

• trying to better understand the principles of the universe, shota began to study higher mathematics. soon it became an independent special interest. they is especially fond of limits, derivatives and progressions

• interest in quirks gradually developed into interest in heroics in general, and with the addition of mathanalysis skills, aizawa became a good analyst. in middle school, he took additional classes in higher mathematics. in yuuei there were additional classes in mathematical statistics and a club of heroic analytics. of course, aizawa immediately signed up for both clubs as soon as the opportunity arose

• (he was very excited when he found out about midoriya's analytical interests. sometimes they have discussions right during the lesson. at such moments, 1-a acutely feels the lack of popcorn)

• shota has difficulty making eye contact. they literally can't even look in the direction of the face of the person they bewares. as he gets closer to a person, his gaze gradually moves from "somewhere in the corner near the interlocutor" to the approximate direction of the face. aizawa can only look straight into the eyes with very close people

• until the age of 14, shota was a walking disaster. hit all the corners and door jambs on the way? yes. drop all your stuff because you got tangled in your limbs? give me two. tripping over your own foot and smashing your face? hold my beer

• his verbal skills were also very poor before entering yuuei. his classmates literally had to teach him to talk

• despite significant progress, they still easily becomes nonverbal during sensory overload. but now shota knows sign language and is mostly surrounded by understanding people

• his biggest sensory vulnerability is sounds. he doesn't tolerate noise very well. while still a student of yuuei, he accidentally stole noise-canceling headphones from the support course, and this was one of the best acquisitions in his entire life

• the second worst thing in the world after noise is a flashing light. ever since aizawa got a job at yuuei, they always change faulty light bulbs on time

• shota also hates the feeling of clothes that fit snugly to the body, so he always wears an oversize made of the softest fabric possible. even as a hero costume. especially as a hero costume

• returning to his special interests, his fascination with mathematics and statistics flowed into an interest in programming. in his second year at yuuei shota abandoned the matanalysis club in favor of the programming one and was almost the only student there not from the support course. at first they looked at him askance, but then they accepted him into a family of nerds. this gave aizawa quite a lot of useful acquaintances

• in addition, even in middle school, he was fond of edged weapons, and in the third year this interest was renewed

• versatile, albeit non-standard education + problems with verbality = complex formulations using terms mixed with slang. students find his manner of speech quite funny. and yes, he really thinks using _these_ words

• aizawa loves terms because he thinks they are very rational. he admires the ability to fit into one word the essence and description of the whole phenomenon

• logic is not just a value for them — it is their anchor and guide in the complex world of social conventions that they does not understand

• due to his being blunt, he can be rude, while observing all the norms of etiquette. and sincerely wonder what they said wrong

• his favorite stims are walking, solving "hand puzzles", combing the scalp, stroking cats, sharpening knives, swinging his legs

• they loves the tactile sensations of their capture weapon. the rough fabric feels very nice under your fingers, and since the tapes are quite heavy, this is a very good pressure stim

• his comfortable space is a sleeping bag

• shota does not like too bright or complex tastes in food, preferring something fairly simple and unambiguous. they likes spicy, salty and sweet

• aizawa is that type of autistic children who sort food into its constituent ingredients and eat them separately. they is still skeptical about most salads

• he has a complicated relationship with purees. until they found their jelly bags, they hated any products of this consistency. fortunately, these particular purees turned out to be quite liquid and became one of his comfort foods.

• his sensory overload rarely flows brightly, although this has happened. most often, he has either shutdowns, at the peak of which he cannot speak or move for several minutes, or he simply becomes very irritable or sleepy

• the best way to get out of sensory overload for shota is to pretend that everything is normal (of course, after they gets rid of the stimulus that led to the overload). attempts to start moving or talking as quickly as possible only aggravate everything. someone else's anxiety, too. therefore, they prefers to retire in an empty room or at least in their sleeping bag and just wait

[radioactivepeasant]

Fic Prompts: Star Wars Wednesday

Loosely based on a really wacky dream I had sometime last week. It seems to have been a bizarre reworking of The Force Awakens, but I really liked some elements of it lol

Nobody escaped the stormtrooper program. They drilled that into him over and over. It was one of his first clear memories, being shown what happened to "deserters". Faulty troopers went to reconditioning. Deserters went to "decommissioning". They'd learned that from Kamino, apparently.

Nobody escaped from the stormtrooper program. But that didn't mean FN-2187 wasn't determined to try.

Something was calling him, urging him to act. He didn't know what it was -- a memory? Instincts? -- but somehow he knew that if he stayed in the bunkers for one more year, his life would be in danger. That was why, as soon as his platoon were declared to be fifteen years of age in a deadpan announcement of duties, FN-2187 volunteered to take part in a scouting mission to a mining world they were supposedly going to negotiate with.

Phasma praised his initiative. That had been happening more since his last marksmanship tests, he'd noticed. Somehow, he always knew when her eyes were on him. It was like being watched by a hungry Krayt dragon.

FN had never seen a Krayt dragon. He couldn't remember where he'd heard of it. His bunkmates thought he was making it up until he'd showed them in data surveillance lessons. Maybe he'd learned about them in the time Before? When he was still with the man with kind eyes and the woman who laughed so warmly?

FN wished he could remember more of their faces than that.

[[MORE]]

On the mining world, he was the perfect cadet. Instantly responding to orders, quick to point out possible ambush sites if the miners felt inclined to violence. He conducted himself as if he had an eye on ascending through the ranks, like some of his peers. And all the while, that mysterious "voice" called to him, as if it was telling him to watch for something, or to be ready.

The boy saw his opportunity when the party crossed a narrow bridge to meet the ombudsmen. There was nothing beneath it but a deep, craggy, chasm. And conveniently, no safety rails on the bridge. It was almost too easy to stage the accident: he'd made sure he was standing next to FN-TR8R, a boy who resented the attention FN-2187 was getting from the officers. TR8R was just jealous enough to do the occasional stupid thing like shove fellow cadets when officers' backs were turned. Banking on this, FN pretended to worry about the bridge and edged closer to his fellow scout.

He was absolutely terrified, he didn't have to fake that. Nobody escaped the stormtrooper program. Nobody! If he didn't get smashed to pieces on the rocks below, he'd be executed for sure! But if he just kept his head down and marched on, he feared he would lose more than his few childhood memories.

TR8R made a barely audible scoff and shoved FN away from him. Security footage would later show the smaller boy flail once, then disappear over the ledge. TR8R would claim he'd slipped.

FN knew good and well he shouldn't have survived that fall. But as he plunged past the support pillars, he just...stopped.

He hadn't landed, he just wasn't falling anymore. He was floating in midair, staring down at wickedly sharp rocks. FN thought of propaganda footage of Kylo Ren, launching enemies through the air with the Force, and fear gripped him. Had he been caught? Was Ren here?

Slowly, he was lifted back up a few feet by unseen hands. They pulled him up onto a ledge on the middle support pillar and dropped him gently onto cold stone.

"Finn Finn!" said a tiny voice.

FN-2187 slowly looked up, afraid of what he might see.

Crouching in front of his face was a very small being with long, pointed ears. His eyes were wide and expressive, and a huge smile covered his face. He pointed a tiny, gloved, hand at the boy and said again, "Finnnn!"

"What?" a second voice, much deeper, responded.

FN sat up quickly to find himself staring straight into the eye slit of a Mandalorian helmet. The Mandalorian was in the middle of planting detonation charges on the bridge supports, and he seemed to be staring at FN.

"Buir! Buir, das Finn!" the green child squeaked happily, "Oooh, Finn a big 'ad now!"

The Mandalorian immediately crouched beside his tiny companion. "Kid, you can't be serious. That's a First Order cadet."

"No!" the child -- he sounded like a preschooler -- argued, pinning his ears back, "No no no! Das Finn! Fee fi fo fay finnnnn!"

"Grogu, this better be a Force thing. There is absolutely no other reason for you to know a Junior Stormtrooper's name."

"Um." FN flinched as the two turned to look at him. "I don't...know who Finn is. But...can you help me?"

Mandalorians and the First Order hated each other, right? The tugging at FN's soul seemed to be pointing straight to the man in beskar and the little green guy in makeshift armor. They had to be able to help him! They were sabotaging the bridge, for crying out loud!

"We have a job to do," the Mandalorian said bluntly.

"I- I can help!" FN said impulsively. "Just please, take me with you! I need a way off this planet!"

The Mandalorian tilted his helmet slightly, and FN sensed that he was being stared at again. After a three second eternity, the armored man nodded.

"Hand me those charges. Grogu will keep you from falling. If you try to double-cross us, it won't end well for you."

The wave of relief that hit FN almost brought him to tears. "You won't regret it!" he stammered, "I promise!"

A little uncomfortable, the Mandalorian patted his shoulder. "Uh...okay, kid. Let's just finish up so we can get out of here."

The First Order enforcers were about to be in for a rude surprise.

[ageofevermore]

Unsaid Emily

SUMMARY — and maybe it was the midnight ink on her wrist that tied her to him

WORD COUNT — 1.7k

───── ･ ｡ﾟ☆ﾟ: *. ☽ .* : ☆ﾟ. ─────

They had said goodbye to a child eight years before welcoming the second with shocked and scared hearts. They had promised to do things differently -- to like whatever she liked, watch whatever she watched, and love whatever she loved. They drew no boundary at personal belief when it came to this second child that shadowed the life of Luke, but they made no attempts to forgive and mend the empty spaces in their hearts where they had already done this. They had already gone through first steps, words, and heartbreaks. They had captured Luke’s seventeen years of life in their memory so perfectly watching hers felt faulty. They tried with everything they had to love her as they never loved Luke, but somehow that caused even more of a divide as everything was reminiscent of the deceased first born brunette. 

She had been away at school when his birthday rolled around; for the first time in her seventeen years of pitiful existence she didn’t blow out the candles on a stale chocolate cake. She spent the day away from stories of her brother, and instead  spent it knowing somewhere in the universe he wasn’t being smothered by Mitch and Emily’s persistent opinions. She couldn’t outrun home forever though. An amazing music program in Santa Monica pulled her away from LA for most weeks out of the year, but her mother was persistent that she abandon the dorms and visit home every so often. It was that fear of Luke again. He had instilled so many traumas that even trust with her was unruly and weak. 

She heard the doorbell ring as she was unpacking her pile of homework, the weekend away from school meaning nothing for the multiple classes she was taking weekly. Though the private boarding school was diverse in the makeup of their structured courses, she was still on a tightly wound schedule with instrumental practice and vocals along with mandatory academics like calculus. She hates calculus. She had only started around the corner because she heard the sound of her brother's name roll off of a stranger's tongue. The defined L sound was unmistakable, and partnered with the topic of music, the correlation was undeniable. 

“Yeah. That’s Luke, when he was two.” Mitch explained the picture between the girls grasp, eyes growing damp at the topic of his greatest failure as a parent. Luke was his perfect gift. 

“Do you have any other children?” The girl asked, gently setting the picture frame down and bringing her chocolate eyes up to Mitch’s. The gentleness of her expressions were weighing heavy on the hearts of a family that lived with the memory of Luke on their mind daily. Even with the retelling of his story the only fragment of his existence that she knew, hearing these words hurt.

“A daughter. Lily.” Mitch looked just behind the guest, eyes trailing over his daughter that shared the same midnight toned hair and hard blue eyes as his Luke once had. She stepped past the threshold connecting the foyer to the living room, ignoring the butterflies that spread through her stomach at a certain point across the hardwood. 

“I’m Lily.” She smiled tightly at the girl, hand extended in a polite greeting that was in no way authentic. Her heart was beating her ears, palms collecting sweat at the idea of knowing Luke from somebody else's perspective. 

“Julie.”  The two smiled at each other, both looking equally displaced despite this being Lily’s house, and having been Julie’s personal decision to come. Luke just had that effect on people. His memory made you hurt so deeply that anything other than crying felt wrong. 

“Did I hear the doorbell?” Emily asked, hand softly brushing against Lily’s back. Emily hadn’t even flinched when her child pulled away from the embrace, just accepted what had become routine since implementing the memory and the love of Luke. In remembering one child Mitch and Emily had completely pushed away the other. 

“Mom, this is Julie.” Lily introduced the two, her eyes wandering around the space that suddenly felt so full. She had stood in this same living room for seventeen years prior to the current evening and never had she got the sense of being complete. 

“Hello, Julie.” Emily smiled, looking over the girl standing in their living room with nothing more than a name to her purpose. “Oh, that’s a beautiful sweater.” 

She had never heard her mother speak so freely kindly towards others' clothing. She had woken the same morning, expecting the looks of judgement and unwarranted warnings that band-tees and vans had been the very wardrobe to have taken Luke’s life. 

When she had gotten Sunset Curve tattooed to the flesh of her wrist, binding her life to her brother's memory, they had gone mental. It had been tears of disappointment and pain at the foundation of an argument. They had come around eventually, but only off of the premise that they didn’t want to drive Lily away and watch her face death like Luke did. 

“Thanks. It’s my moms.” Julie looked down at her sweater, fingers softly brushing along the knitted material. By the solemn expression in her eyes, Lily knew that death had been upon her. Nobody bore such a heavy gleam without the persuading of trauma and grief. 

“Julie lives in the house where Luke and the band rehearsed. She was just telling me she found a song that Luke wrote.” Mitch looked down at Julie, all while Lily couldn’t shake the feeling of eyes on her. Looking around the room again, her heart jumped painfully in her chest at the orb of afterlife reflecting from the sun just behind Julie. As she stared into the rainbow colors of the orb, she couldn’t help but feel as though a set of eyes was sharing the encounter with her. 

Blinking away the delusion, Lily’s thumb traced the tattoo on her wrist, her eyes welling with tears. She might have rivaled a ghost all of her childhood, but she missed the soft and tender memories of her brother she didn’t have the heart to relearn. She could love him with everything she had, but never would see ask her parents about his short lived life. 

“It’s a song about a girl named Emily?” 

A tear fell from Lily’s eyes, while warm pools of grief framed the waterline of her blue optics, threatening to spill over at any second. She traced the spot where the orb of afterlife had once floated above the air with streaks of rainbow, but the sun had moved away and stopped casting a spotlight on the space. 

“Emily…” Mitch whispered into the open air of the space, eyes glazing over as he looked down to his wife that had beared two children and loved the first more than anything worldly. “I’m Emily.” She pleaded, although neither she nor Julie knew what she was asking for with her desperation soaked tone. 

“Then I think your son may have written a song for you.” Julie handed over the old and tattered piece of notebook paper that bore the same handwriting as all of Luke’s journals still stashed away in the attic. The same handwriting that lived permanently on her wrist, taking the shape of what his dream had once been. 

“First things first, we start the scene in reverse.” Lily had to shake the thought of music out of her focus, her body so heavily convinced that somewhere in the depths of her home a song was playing softly. The dimension of the vocals she heard was unlike any streaming platform ability, making her wonder if her mother had broken into the vinyls again. 

“All of the lines rehearsed disappeared from my mind when things got loud. One of us running out, I should've turned around, but I had too much pride. No time for goodbyes, didn't get to apologize, pieces of a clock that lies broken. If I could take us back, if I could just do that and write in every empty space the words ‘I love you’ in replace. Then maybe time would not erase me, if you could only know I never let you go, and the words I most regret are the ones I never meant to leave. Unsaid Emily. Silent days, mysteries and mistakes. Who'd be the first to break? I guess we're alike that way. He said, she said, conversations in my head, and that's just where they're gonna stay forever.” 

It was a ringing between her ears that brought the delusion to a standstill. As her fingers curl around her wrist as if to physically grab the midnight ink, the whisper of a voice in her focus becomes too prominent to ignore. 

“If I could take us back, if I could just do that, and write in every empty space the words ‘I love you’ in replace. Then maybe time would not erase me, if you could only know I never let you go, and the words I most regret are the ones I never meant to leave. Unsaid Emily. If I could take us back, if I could just do that, and write in every empty space the words ‘I love you’ in replace, then maybe time would not erase me. If you could only know I never let you go.” She hears the words through herself so clearly, she’s certain the words she can practically feel are the same as what’s written on the page between her mother's fingertips. She doesn’t understand it, but somehow she knows. 

It’s him. Luke. Her big brother. 

Her wrist flashes hot for a second, startling her enough to abandon the tight locked gaze she has on the empty space behind Julie and look down at her reddening skin. “And the words I most regret are the ones I never meant to leave. Unsaid Emily.” 

A cold shock ran through her body in contrast to the searing hot pain circulating her wrist. She sniffled when the last sung Emily sounded through her body, the vibrato sounding so close to her it was paralyzing. When she found her bearings and the jelly like feeling in her legs dispersed to her heart, she looked back up at Julie.  

With one last fleeting glance towards the empty space behind Julie, the sight of a blue-eyed boy looking tearfully beyond herself, calmed the burn in her wrist. She made eye contact with the boy, a name fitting comfortably on her tongue despite the impossibility of it all. 

“Luke…” 

[jamiemackenziefraser]

The Set Up

Summary: College students and best friends Claire and Jamie are secretly dating. While back at home for a break, they go on a getaway to a lakehouse with their friends. Shenanigans ensue when Geillis and the others become determined to set Claire up with Frank. Unable to dissuade her without giving away her secret, Claire is forced to play along... much to Jamie’s dismay.

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I couldn’t help but stare at Jamie as we all piled out of Dougal’s van. It had been a long trip to the Mackenzie lakehouse (especially interminable for me since I had been squashed between Angus and Rupert in the back), and Jamie was stretching his long limbs in the open space of the driveway. His shirt rode up as he lifted his arms, revealing a delicious strip of smooth skin at his belly and giving me a tease of his remarkable abs. His red curls gleamed in the sunlight, framing his face in a soft halo of bronze. I wanted nothing more than to jump over Rupert and throw myself into my boyfriend’s arms and kiss the living daylights out of him. 

But the problem was that he wasn’t just my boyfriend. He was a secret boyfriend. 

Our relationship had progressed from best friends to much more than friends after we had gone away to university together. While we were free to flaunt our love on campus, things were much more complicated back home. Jamie’s parents put enormous pressure on him not to date and to focus on his studies, and would be even more appalled to learn he was with a Sassenach. To make matters worse, Jamie’s father, Brian, had major beef with my Uncle Lamb. All of this was the perfect storm to make telling our families nearly impossible for the moment. So, we had decided to keep our relationship a secret while back at home-- even to our childhood friends (who we knew wouldn’t be able to keep their gabs shut). 

After all, how hard could it be to hide things for a little while? 

I broke myself out of my longing for Jamie and walked to the back of the van to retrieve my duffle. I dove fearlessly into the precariously packed trunk, filled to the brim with supplies (and booze) for the weekend. I was working to extricate my bag from under a layer of other junk when a familiar, solid body pressed behind me and reached around me to pluck my bag from the mess. 

“Here, lass,” Jamie’s voice rumbled in his chest, and I could feel it against my back. I couldn’t help the tiny gasp that fell from my lips. 

“Thanks,” I murmured demurely, taking the offered bag from his hand. 

Before I could turn toward the cabin where the rest of our friends were crowding the door-- which Dougal was seemingly struggling to unlock-- Jamie’s arm wrapped around my waist and kept me pressed to his front. 

He leaned down, and his lips brushed against the shell of my ear as he whispered, “ye look verra bonny wi’ yer wee tank top and shorts.” 

I turned myself in his grip so I was facing him, suddenly thankful for the protection of the car hiding us from view. 

I gave him a playful smirk, and as I freed myself from his arms, I said playfully, “thank you, friend James. But if you keep that up, everyone will end up getting an eyeful.” I gave him a wink, and then turned my back to him to walk up to the front door, knowing full well that his gaze was fixed on my ass. 

“Damn door,” Dougal was cursing as I approached. 

Angus was wrestling the key away from him, taking his turn to try his hand at unlocking the house. 

“Dougal, I swear, if we hafta drive all the way back because ye cannae even get into yer own cabin...” Geillis was starting in on her boyfriend. 

“Can I try?” I asked an unsuccessful Angus, who was cursing up a storm in Gaelic which I assumed were rather unkind sentiments aimed at the doorknob. 

I had just tried and failed when Jamie reached us. 

“Alright, lad, yer the last one who hasna tried this damnable thing,” Dougal grumbled. 

Jamie obliged, but found no success either. I set my duffle down in dismay. It seemed a bad omen for the trip that it hadn’t even begun and we had already been defeated by a faulty lock. 

At that moment, Frank walked around from the side of the house, running a hand through his short, dark hair. 

“The mechanism must be jammed,” he said, his accent crisp and prim as ever, “but there’s a window unlocked in the back. Shall we check it out?” 

My friends all exchanged a look, and we nodded simultaneously, at a loss for anything else to try. 

We walked around the back of the cabin and looked up at the window. It was small, and well off the ground. I found myself swallowing in dismay. 

Dougal-- ever the unelected (and often unwanted) leader of the group-- was quick to take charge. 

“Alright, this is a two man job. Jamie, yer the tallest, so ye’re on bottom of course. Anyone fancy gettin’ hoisted through a window?” 

We all looked at each other in silence, exchanging wide-eyed looks of “not me.” 

Jamie was not having it though. He stepped toward the window and turned to fix his blue gaze directly on me. 

“Alright, lass, ye’re the smallest. Ready to take a wee trip through the windae?” 

I rolled my eyes but stepped forward obligingly. I knew exactly why Jamie had called me out, and it wasn’t because of my petite frame. The man was eager for any excuse to put his hands on me. 

He tilted his head down and gave me a little smirk. 

“Hold on, Sassenach.”

With that, big hands were around my waist and lifting me off my feet. I let out a little squeal of surprise as I was suddenly hoisted into the air as if I weighed nothing. 

I quickly got with the program, though, and reached up for the window. I fumbled with the bottom, trying to push it upward so I could climb in. 

I felt myself moving and thought for a second that I was falling, but Jamie was just settling me to sit on his shoulder. I breathed a sigh of relief and used my new secure position to leverage the window open. 

“In ye go, lass,” came Jamie’s voice from below me. 

His hands went from my waist down to my hips, and suddenly he was shoving me up and toward the window. 

I caught the ledge and pushed myself through, all but diving into the opening. 

But instead of sailing through, I landed on my stomach with an “oof” and found myself caught halfway through the window. 

There were various chuckles as Jamie obligingly placed both hands on my butt and pushed. I tumbled through the window and landed on the floor with a thud that made all the breath leave my lungs. I lay on the floor stunned for a second, fighting to regain my breath. 

“Ye alright, lass?” Dougal called. 

I groaned and sat up. I hauled myself up and poked my head through the window. 

“Just fine,” I grumbled, “I’m going to open the door.” 

I crossed the room to the front door, listening to the stomping feet outside running around the cabin. I unlocked it and whipped open the door. I made a grandiose gesture with my arm to welcome them to the house, and they all applauded. Taking my role as doorman seriously, I held it open as each of my friends-- Dougal and Gellis, Angus and Rupert, Frank, and finally Jamie-- came through. Jamie, on his way in, gave me an owlish blink that passed for a wink, and I had to stifle a laugh. 

I was interrupted out of my thoughts by a shout from Angus. 

“Oi! Dougal. Ye call this a lakehouse? I thought yer family was rich?” 

The cabin indeed was sparse… to say the least. The main room, which functioned both as a kitchen and living room, was covered in a fine layer of dust. The two couches seemed cozy though, and the kitchen was equipped, other than the fact that the sink was missing a faucet and one of the kitchen chairs had a leg broken off. The hardwood floors were mostly intact. Off to the side was a single hallway that led to the bathroom and the three bedrooms.   

It would do. 

Everyone began to separate-- making to explore and claim bedrooms. 

It was quickly divided that Geillis and I would bunk together, Dougal and Frank, and finally, Jamie would be stuck with Rupert and Angus. I gave him a little smirk and then a sympathetic pout as he followed behind the two boys to set their stuff in the shared room. 

Geillis grabbed my hand, and dragged me into ours. 

As soon as we had gotten settled in, Geillis plopped herself down on the bed we’d be sharing and then rolled onto her back so she was looking up at me from her upside-down position. 

“Soooo, Claire, darling…” she said in a sing-songy coo. 

I rolled my eyes. “What Geillis?” 

“Who are ye gonna hook up wi’ this trip?” 

I started to laugh, but it turned into a choke, and I gasped for air in disbelief. I felt my cheeks flushing. 

“What the hell do you mean?” I stuttered out as I willed my cheeks to calm down. 

“Ye’re the only single girl on this trip wi’ loads of guys, duh,” Geillis rolled her eyes, and then rolled herself over to her stomach and propped her chin on her crossed arms in front of her.

“Listen, my beautiful prudish friend. Dougal and I have been talkin’...” 

“Do you speculate on my love life often?” I asked in a poor attempt to deflect. I was starting to feel some discomfort pricking at the back of my spine. Did she somehow know about me and Jamie? 

“We’ve been thinkin’,” she started again, looking at me with raised eyebrows that dared me to interrupt, “you and Frank would make a verra fine pair.” 

Several emotions rushed through me at the same time. First was relief that she didn’t actually know about me and Jamie and our secret was safe. The second was disgust. The thought of Frank and I together almost made me want to laugh in her face. Finally, my brain added just a bit of panic to the mix, because I would have to tell her “no” without arousing any suspicion. 

“I don’t think so…” I chuckled dubiously. I shook my head as an involuntary blush warmed my cheeks.  

Geillis sat straight up, bouncing on her knees on the bed, and tugged on my arm with both hands. 

“Claaaaire,” she whined.

“I’m just not into him, Geil.” 

She fixed me with cold green eyes. “That lad is fiiine,” she purred, “and he looks at ye like ye’re the bloody queen herself. He’s always carried a torch for ye. Why will ye no’ give him a try?” 

“I just-” I started to protest, but Geillis cut me off. 

“Give me one good reason why ye dinna want tae be wi’ Frank, and I’ll leave ye alone. But… If ye keep givin’ me these weak-ass excuses, I’m settin’ ye up.” 

Panic rushed through my veins. I wished I could press pause on the whole situation and go talk with Jamie. My mind was racing, trying to come up with any excuse other than the truth. But my traitorous brain couldn’t come up with a single thing. 

I opened my mouth, and then closed it again, looking at my friend helplessly. 

With Jamie’s pleas to keep this a secret for a little while longer ringing in my mind, I made a split-second decision. 

“Fine. Set us up.” 

***

Apparently Geillis version of “setting us up” was forcing me into situations where I was alone with Frank as much as possible. 

“Oh bloody feckin’ hell!” Geillis exclaimed, looking in her bag, “I must have left my chapstick all the way out in the car. Claire, darling,” she turned to me where I was sitting at the kitchen table, “will ye go get it for me?” 

“Sure!” I said, standing up and reaching for the offered keys. 

“Oh, but it’s saaae dark out there. A wee lass like yerself shouldnae go alone. Frank, would ye be a dear and see Claire safe?” 

Frank gave a smile, also standing from his spot on the couch. “Of course,” he said, flashing his most handsome smile toward me. 

I was aware that some (perhaps even many) women in our town were head-over-heels for him, finding him dashing. But as he offered an arm, the only thing I felt was annoyance. 

The whole group was observing this, and a few childish “ooohs” emanated from where Rupert and Angus sat by the fireplace. I rolled my eyes. 

Jamie suddenly appeared from the next room, drawn by the small ruckus. 

“What’s-” he started to ask what was going on. 

Geillis, looking incredibly proud of her match-making work, announced, “Oh, Claire and Frank were jus’ goin’ out together tae grab somethin’ from the car for me.” 

Jamie— processing the scene before him as well as Geillis’ words— suddenly tensed, and his eyes flashed. Jamie had a very good poker face, and I doubted anyone noticed but me, but I knew him well enough to know jealous anger when I saw it. His blue eyes held a look of contempt aimed at the dark-haired Englishmen who was still holding out his arm toward me. 

“I’d be happy to go get it fer ye instead, Geil,” Jamie tried. 

It was a valiant effort to save me, I thought. But he severely underestimated the power of Geillis’ match-making efforts. 

“Nae, nae, Claire and Frank would be happy tae do it. But thanks, lad. Off ye go now, ye two.” 

I gave Jamie a covert look of helpless dismay and watched as he slumped in defeat. I felt a similar reluctance as I took Frank’s offered arm and we walked together outside. 

The door shut behind us, and the safety of Jamie’s presence-- and everyone else’s-- slipped away. 

“So,” Frank said, “it seems Geillis has it on her mind that we’d make a good couple.” 

I laughed. “Seems that way.” 

A nervous bubble was forming in my stomach. 

“As does everyone else…” he said. It seemed he was trying to lead me toward something. 

I didn’t know what to say, so I just stayed silent, lips pressed firmly together. 

Frank seemed to take that as shyness, because he stepped closer to me as we walked down the driveway, and then grew even bolder. 

“I have to say, I’m inclined to agree with them,” he purred. 

His words rang in my ears as panic gripped me. My throat felt dry and scratchy, and I had no idea how to answer him. Why hadn’t I fought Geillis harder on this? 

Frank suddenly stopped dead in his tracks. 

“You’re beautiful, Claire,” he announced. He said it was such finality, it was as if he expected me to throw myself at him in gratitude for the compliment. As if him saying it somehow sealed the deal that I should feel something for him. 

I mustered a “thanks,” and then quickly scurried toward the van. 

I unlocked it and threw myself into the passenger's seat before Frank could say anything else to me. I rooted around in the glove compartment until I found Geillis’ chapstick, cursing both it and her under my breath. I wished that I could just run inside to Jamie, grab his hand, and drag him outside with me. 

But that wasn’t in the cards for us just now. So, accepting my fate, I hopped out of the van to face Frank again. 

He was waiting patiently for me next to the van. Apparently he was taking his job of protecting me from all the late-evening attackers (ha!) because he was looking around as if he was really surveying the area for dangers to protect me from. 

He offered his arm, and I reluctantly took it again. 

Frank was a good guy. He was my friend. I didn’t want to be terribly mean to him. Even more, I didn’t want to endure another grilling session from Geillis about why I didn’t like him. I would just have to play along for the weekend. Suck it up, Beauchamp. 

Frank was blessedly quiet on our way back in, and before I knew it, we were once again inside the cabin and in the protection of the presence of others. 

Little did I know that the “others” would actually provide very little protection, and would more be terrible influences and orchestrators of putting me in situations I didn’t want to be in. 

*

I wished I could talk to Jamie and explain what the hell was going on, but there wasn’t really an opportunity in the small cabin to get him alone without raising suspicion. 

For the thousandth time this trip, I wished that I could throw myself at Jamie and feel his arms wrapped around me, hugging me close. I imagined what would happen if I got up at that very moment, walked around the room, and sat down on Jamie’s lap. My mind fantasized about how Jamie would pull me close and kiss me in front of everyone, and then allow me to snuggle into him and lay my head on his shoulder as the guys told their stories. 

But that wasn’t the way things were just yet. 

The group had just had dinner and was settling down in front of the fireplace on the couches. Anticipating all the alcohol we were about to drink, we’d whipped up a bucketload of spaghetti on the rickety stove and wolfed it down. Then, the drinks were broken out, and the festivities moved to the living room. 

I was sitting next to Geillis nursing a beer and wondering to myself why anyone ever drank the foul stuff. I cursed myself for letting Rupert and Angus be in charge of the booze selection. 

All of a sudden, Geillis, in her typical dramatic fashion, shot to her feet. 

“Oh Frank,” she called across the room to the dark-haired man who was leaning against the wall, “come take my spot. Next to Claire.” 

Geillis shot me a smirk over her shoulder, and I had to restrain myself to keep from rolling my eyes. I turned instead to watch Frank heading toward us, and in the process, caught sight of Jamie sitting across the room, his nose buried in his beer and eyes lowered. But I noticed the clench in his jaw, and my heart ached in sympathy. 

I was brought from my musings when Frank plopped down on the couch next to me, the impact causing a slight tremor in the cushions that sent me sliding toward the middle-- closer to Frank, damn it. 

Frank turned toward me and was just about to open his mouth when I was saved from a private conversation by Rupert. 

“Claire,” he bellowed, “who dae ye think would win in a fight— Dougal or a black bear?” 

“Oh definitely Dougal. He’s got enough rage to take down something 3 times his size.” 

All the boys let out guffaws, smacking Dougal’s shoulder in congratulations at the praise. 

As the conversation went on, I found my head had a pleasant buzz, and I remembered why beer wasn’t so bad. Everyone else seemed to be enjoying it too. The room had a warmth in it-- a bright, cozy atmosphere that made everyone a little more boisterous. 

Frank, for his part, was especially melted by the cozy feel. He had been moving closer and closer to me as the conversations progressed so his thigh now touched mine and his side was barely pressed against me. Just as Angus was telling a dirty joke, Frank took the opportunity to raise his arm and drape it over my shoulder. 

I started to stiffen, but forced myself to calm down. This was innocent, I could handle this. 

But someone else couldn’t quite handle it. 

I saw the exact moment when Jamie looked up to catch sight of us. A shadow fell across his features and they instantly hardened into a stony expression. But his eyes-- God his eyes-- they flashed an intense blue as they narrowed, and I could see every bit of tension in his muscles. He was coiled so tightly I thought he must surely either burst or fly across the room. But he was using every ounce of self control he possessed not to rush over, pull Frank from me, and beat him to a pulp. 

For not the first time that night, I felt a little bad for Frank. The poor sop thought he had a real shot with a single woman. He had no idea the truth. Guilt made my stomach churn. I wasn’t exactly leading him on-- I made no mention that I returned his affections nor signaled that I enjoyed his touch in any way— but Frank had persisted. 

So, Frank’s arm rested around my shoulders, and Jamie sulked across the room, his eyes never leaving us once. 

*

Nearly an hour later, we were all well and truly sloshed. For me, that meant wanting desperately to jump Jamie’s bones. It must have been the same for Geillis and Dougal, because they disappeared into the back bedroom Dougal and Frank would be sharing. For Frank, he grew more bold, and had himself pressed fully against me. He kept trying to spark up conversation with me, but everything about him seemed to dull, and I mostly ignored him. Poor drunk Jamie was so fixated on me and Frank that he hardly said a word. He just glowered from his spot in the shadows across the room. Finally, for Angus and Rupert, their drunkenness was simply an intensification of their usual uninhibited personalities. 

So, naturally, some fireworks were broken out. 

“Do ye ken wha’ would happen if we sent it up the chimney?!” Angus bellowed. 

“Woaahh,” I staggered to my feet-- blissfully removing myself from Frank’s arm-- and stumbled over to where Angus and Rupert were already knelt by a big box of fireworks that they produced from God-knows-where. 

“I ha’ a lighter!” Rupert announced proudly as he produced said lighter from his pocket. 

“You are going to burn the whole house down!” I exclaimed. I snatched the lighter from his fingers and walked into the kitchen to set it on the table. 

When I returned, Jamie was staring at me unabashedly, and his beautiful blue eyes were pleading with me not to return to Frank’s side. 

His wish was granted as Angus pulled out a couple sparklers with a wide grin and an opened-mouth laugh of glee. Before I could react, he was sprinting for the kitchen and grabbing the lighter. Rupert was on his heels, and the two boys smashed into each other as they reached the table. Angus snagged the lighter, and they both ran around to the other side of the island, sparklers in hand. 

I found I didn’t have the willpower to stop them and could only pray that they didn’t burn the cabin down as they lit the sparklers. I watched in both fascination and dread as the little fireworks shot into sparks of light. Angus and Rupert waved them around triumphantly in the kitchen, faced awed. 

I instinctively turned back toward the living room with the desire to see Jamie’s reaction, but to my surprise, I found him stalking into the kitchen, his usually soft blue eyes hard with anger and authority. 

“Outside. Now,” he bellowed at the two fools. His voice held all the authority of a drill sergeant, and even more menacing was his posture. His back was ramrod straight, and his arm lifted to point straight at the door. 

Jamie’s order sent Angus and Rupert scurrying for the door. I watched with a bit of disbelief as the very drunken men (boys, really) fell over themselves to shove their way outside, the sparklers still popping in their hands. Frank rose, too, muttering something about making sure they didn’t kill themselves. 

The moment the door closed behind the three of them, hands were wrapping around my waist and pulling me into the protection of an alcove near the back door, and a hard body pressed me against the wall. 

Before I had any time to process my sudden change of location, Jamie’s lips were attacking mine. He kissed with all the desperation and ferocity of a man who was starving. His arms tightening around my waist and pulling me flush against his body, he held me close and ravished my mouth. I felt him pouring out all the possessive energy that I knew had been building the entire night. I returned his kiss with equal desperation, my drunken brain responding on instinct, and I wrapped my arms around him. 

“Ye’re mine,” he all but growled against my lips. 

I managed a breathy, “yours,” just before his fingers wrapped themselves into my hair and tugged me into another deep kiss. 

Finally, he pulled back, and we were both panting for breath, chests heaving in the slightest. I took a moment to study his face. His lips were puffy and his face lit with a fine dusting of red high on his cheekbones. But as my gaze swept further upward, I saw that his eyes blazed with possessive jealousy. That hard look made me sober instantly. 

“Jamie, I’m sorry, they--” I started. 

He seemed to deflate a bit, the muscles of his shoulders relaxing for the first time nearly this whole evening. He reached out a hand and softly cupped my cheek, and then let his fingers explore backward so they were carding through my curls. I melted into his soft touch. 

“I dinna fash, I ken it’s no’ yer fault,” he said, instantly assuaging my fears. 

I drew closer to him like a moon drawn into orbit. Pressing myself to him, I let my head thump against his shoulder in exasperation. 

“Geillis has it in her head that Frank and I would make a great couple. I couldn’t tell her no without exposing us…” 

“I ken, they’ve all been shovin’ the two of ye together all night,'' he growled, “and I could see ye pleadin’ wi’ me to rescue ye. God, Claire, I wish to God I couldha rushed over and torn his arm from his body jes’ for touchin’ ye.” 

I tried to cut Jamie off, but he wasn’t done. 

“Christ, Sassenach. I could kill him for this.”

Before I could start a reply— I had no idea what I might have said: defended Frank or tried to reassure Jamie— a warm mouth was capturing mine again. With a little whisper of a gasp, Jamie detached from my lips and started trailing his mouth down my jaw and to my neck. 

He began to suck on the skin there, and my hands flew up to bury my fingers in his curls in response. I held him against me as he nipped and sucked and worried his teeth into the sensitive skin. 

“He means nothing to me, Jamie--” my words were punctuated by a gasp, “I just have to play along-- for a little— until I can tell Geillis it didn’t work out.” His talented lips traveling up and down my neck made it nearly impossible for me to get the words out. 

Jamie rose up, his eyes glimmering with the now familiar deep shade of blue that indicated jealousy, and towered above me. 

“Aye. Play along. Jes’ dinna forget that ye’re mine.” 

I shook my head and fixed him with earnest eyes. 

“Never,” I breathed. 

He gave me a smile that made my stomach flutter and my fears about his reaction dissolve completely. 

Reaching down to tug me closer again, he joined our lips once more, and I finally had the opportunity to simply revel in his nearness, as I had been dreaming of doing this entire day. 

Just as I lifted my hands to tangle in his curls and pull him closer, the sound of the door opening sent us flying apart. 

Since I was trapped against the wall, after Jamie jumped backward, he quickly turned away from me and grabbed at something on the kitchen table in an attempt at nonchalance. I surveyed the alcove I was in and discovered a scrub brush hanging on a hook on the wall. Holding it up, I emerged to see the three men standing in the living room, paying zero attention to the kitchen. I abandoned my hastily-discovered, but now unnecessary, excuse by the sink and headed back toward them. 

“So, did you boys have a nice time safely enjoying your fireworks?” I inquired. 

“Aye!” Rupert bellowed, and I let out a laugh-- mostly releasing nervous energy at how close Jamie and I had gotten to being discovered. 

As I walked back over, I noticed Frank’s dark eyes watching me intently. I could tell he had words on the tip of his tongue. 

I must have returned his gaze for a second too long because suddenly the words were coming. 

“It’s awfully pleasant out there. You can see so many stars. Care to join me, Claire?” 

It took every ounce of self control for me not to turn behind me and shoot a helpless look at Jamie. But I could feel his eyes on me by the prickle in my spine. His weren’t the only pair fixed on me, though, as Frank was staring at me, waiting for me to respond to his invitation. 

“Frank, that’s very kind, but I really am tired and think maybe I should--”

“It’s only 10 pm, ye granny!” Angus interjected, “ye cannae go tae bed this early!” 

I stifled a groan of frustration. This weekend was making me understand the definition of “stuck between a rock and a hard place.” 

I forced myself to give a smile to Frank. “Oh, alright then. But not for too long. I wouldn’t want to fall asleep on the porch.” 

“Oh, don’t worry, I’d carry you inside--”

Frank’s flirtation was cut off by a loud bang from the kitchen. All heads swiveled in that direction to find Jamie standing at the sink (his expression nothing short of smug). 

“Oh, sorry, dropped a pot,” he said, voice sounding not at all apologetic. 

He gave me a tiny reassuring nod which soothed the knot in my stomach and gave me the courage to turn back to Frank. 

“Alright, let’s go.” 

Somehow, I felt that I was walking to my own execution. 

* Fortunately— and I truly thanked God profusely— Frank was not so drunk that he tried to kiss me. We just sat side-by-side on the edge of the porch and looked out at the sky. There was enough distance between us to help me feel comfortable (although I caught him trying to scooch closer a few times). Mostly, Frank rambled on about the constellations, naming them and giving some random fact about their discovery or uniqueness. I had been lying earlier when I had said I was tired, but after listening to Frank drone on (I pitied the girl who would someday actually go on a real date with him), I really began to actually want to doze. 

My head jerked once as I nodded off and then caught myself, and when I looked up, I found Frank staring at me in the moonlight. 

“Maybe you should go to bed…” Frank politely gave me the out, and I couldn’t have been more grateful. 

“I think I should,” I agreed, and before he could say another word, I stood up and brushed my hands down my pants. 

I bid him a hasty, “Goodnight, Frank,” and then fled inside. 

In the living room, Rupert and Angus were passed out on the couches— Rupert with one leg thrown over the top of the arm, and Angus fully upside down, with his head off the edge— and both snoring profusely. Jamie was sitting in a chair by the hearth, giving a glum look to the neck of his half-drunk beer bottle. When I entered, his gaze shot up toward me. I knew Frank would be on my heels, so I couldn’t linger to comfort him. I just gave him a calming smile, blew him a discreet kiss, and then said, “Goodnight, Jamie,” just as the door opened again. 

“Goodnight, Sassenach,” came his reply as I fled toward the door of my room. 

Geillis was still with Dougal (I pitied Frank if he was careless enough to head into his and Dougal’s shared room) so I splayed myself out on the bed and luxuriated in the feeling of being horizontal. It had been a long day, and I was more than ready to fall into the embrace of unconsciousness. I managed to get myself up to brush my teeth, take ibuprofen, and drink some water before I fell back into bed. 

As I started to drift off, thoughts of Jamie circled mercilessly in my head. I sighed, rolled over to my other side, and fluffed the pillow under my cheek. I hated this whole situation. Still, the way he had kissed me-- God, maybe jealousy was kind of hot. That brought a smile to my face, and as I closed my eyes again, I relived Jamie slamming me into the wall and kissing me over and over in my head. 

*** The next morning brought a broken stove. Thankfully, Dougal was able to produce a camping stove from somewhere in the basement, and we all gathered on the porch to watch as he made pancakes. Geillis managed to shove Frank at me and get him to sit next to me on the porch swing, but other than his thwarted attempt at taking my hand, the morning was rather uneventful. 

That day, we were planning to head to Loch A’an for a day of swimming. It would be a bit of hiking to the lake, and a cold swim once we got there, but Dougal and Jamie knew of a secluded beach that promised some fun without too many tourists. 

Standing above my suitcase to get ready, I sighed to myself as I pulled out my swimming suit. The little black bikini had been chosen for Jamie’s discreet enjoyment. (I had secretly imagined how his eyes would bug out and how he’d have to hold his tongue when I first undressed at the lakeshore.) But now, with Frank’s attentions, I regretted bringing such a risque choice. 

I changed quickly, and just as I was about to put on my shirt, Geillis entered the room. 

When I had managed to fit my head through the collar and tug it down, I noticed Geillis looking at me with a smirk. 

“What?” I asked, narrowing my eyes. 

“Ye have a hickey, Claire.” 

I let out a gasp, and slapped a hand over the sore spot on my neck. I walked over to the mirror and looked to find I indeed had a hickey just at the edge of my collar. 

Damn it, Jamie!

“Things go well wi’ Frank last night, then?” Geillis prodded. 

“Uhh--” I stuttered helplessly. 

I couldn't very well deny it, because there were no other options as to who would have given it to me. 

“I--” I started again. 

Geillis was looking at me with those big “spill the gossip” green eyes. 

“I have to go!” I burst out. 

I frantically snagged my bag and fled the room, then ran outside to join the safety of others. 

On the drive, Dougal’s van bumping viciously on the gravel roads, the boys burst out into Gaelic song. Frank and I-- momentarily united by our Sassenach nature-- could only laugh along at their rowdy renditions. I smiled to myself when Jamie’s voice rose above the rest. He was adorably off key but he more than made up for it with his enthusiasm and unabashed volume. 

It was a thankfully short drive, and the songs switched to English halfway through which allowed me to participate. Before I knew it, Dougal was pulling into the lot. We all piled out with nearly the same eagerness as we had after the 4 hour drive to get to the cabin. 

As soon as we were out, I hastily slathered sunscreen over my poor pasty skin. Jamie always told me that I had ‘verra fine skin, like pearl,’ but I was cursing it since no one else had stopped to put any on themselves and were just about to leave me behind. Jamie, bless his heart, lingered back while the others started up the trail. 

I finished as quickly as I could  and ran to catch up. As I reached Jamie, he gently grasped my elbow and pulled me close to him (with a careful eye ahead to be sure no one was looking back). 

“I wish I could help ye wi’ that sunscreen, a nighean,” he said in a low voice right next to my ear. A shiver went down my spine in response, but I didn’t trust my lips with words. 

We quickened our pace to catch up with the others, and soon we had made it to the back of the group. 

I took in the surroundings with awe. The cliffs, green with the summer, loomed around us. Their tips were jagged and rocky, and I felt myself itching to climb to the top of one to take in the view. It was a perfect summer day. Blessedly, it wasn’t raining, and the sun glimmered off of the water in the distance. It had been unseasonably warm that summer, almost unnaturally so, which was the only reason we were daring to swim in the usually chilly lake. 

I was so entranced by the scenery that about halfway into our hike, my foot slipped off a rock on the edge of the path. My ankle rolled, and I let out a yelp as I started to skid down the slight embankment. 

Quick as a flash, Jamie had grabbed my arm and hauled me up. I fell against him, still completely off balance, and found myself pressed to his chest for a second before I gained awareness and pulled back. 

“Are ye alright, Sassenach?” Jamie asked. I noticed his eyes were shining with worry. 

The rest of the group had halted and turned back, and Geillis was making her way toward me from the front of the group. 

“I’m fine, I think. I rolled my ankle a little though.” 

I tested my weight on it and winced as a small jolt of pain traveled up my leg. 

“Do ye need me tae take ye back?” Jamie asked in a low voice. 

“I’m alright, it’s just a little tender. I can keep going. Maybe just can you--” 

“Frank!” Geillis’ sing-songy call interrupted my question, “why dinna ye help Claire? Her puir ankle is painin’ her, I’m sure she could use an arm tae hold onto.” 

Frank split apart from the group and materialized at my side. 

“Allow me,” He said as he managed to shoulder his way between me and Jamie. 

I stood mutely, and he walked around to my bad side and started to lift my right arm over his shoulder. 

“Oh, that’s really not necessary, I can walk,” I chuckled nervously as his hand snaked its way around my waist. 

“Perhaps just until the soreness wears off,” Frank said dismissively. 

He took a step forward, and pressed to him as I was, I went with him. I accepted my fate with the burning of embarrassment flaring in my cheeks. 

Truth be told, it was helpful to relieve the pressure on my ankle. Frank actually made a decent crutch, and we quickly found our rhythm. Worse than the pain in my ankle would have been, though, was the sight of Jamie walking next to me but just out of reach. His shoulders were slumped, and he was trying desperately not to look at us. 

God, I wished it was his arms around me. 

I clenched my teeth and allowed Frank to help me forward. The ground soon turned into an incline, and I looked up from my feet to see that we were nearing the secluded beach of the lake. It was a rocky shoreline, with big boulders sticking up out of the water all over the place, but it still looked very inviting. A child-like glee rushed through me at the thought of playing around the boulders and in the water. 

Soon, we were all on the beach, and Frank was letting me go to set down his things. The boys ripped off their shirts, and Angus and Rupert went flying into the water with loud whoops of glee. I set down my bag and then straightened to find two pairs of eyes on me-- Frank and Jamie. 

Jamie had already stripped off his shirt, and I took a fleeting glance up and down his body to appreciate him. Frank stood further from the water, by the bushes, but I could tell he was just as eager as my boyfriend to watch me strip down to my swimming suit. 

A wave of frustration swept over me, and I felt very bold as I met Frank’s gaze and gave him a chastising stare in return. Realizing he had been discovered watching, Frank averted his eyes, and made to take off his own shirt. 

Might as well get this over with, Beauchamp. 

I stripped off my shirt and shimmied down my shorts all in one quick motion, and then threw the clothes into my bag. 

Jamie’s reaction was comically similar to what I had imagined. 

His eyes did indeed go wide, as his gaze very markedly raked up and down my body. A grin started to form on his lips, but then he suddenly remembered our location, and horror flashed in his eyes as he looked toward Frank and the others. I thought Jamie had half a mind to run over and throw his shirt over me to cover me up (the thought of which made me laugh), but he was left frozen and rooted in place. 

I began walking toward the water, hoping perhaps I could get there before Frank finished rummaging through his bag. But no such luck. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him catch sight of me, but I had no desire to take in his reaction. 

Damn it, I am not on display for you to ogle!

I waded quickly into the water, gasping at its chilly temperature and then hastily sinking down in the shallows to hide myself from any unwanted view. 

Soon, all of my frustration over male objectification was swept from my mind as Geillis appeared and tried to dunk my head under water. 

We swam and clambered on rocks and boulders for what felt like hours. I floated in the water and allowed the sun to warm me, occasionally turning over to dive under and enjoy the feeling of being submerged in the cold water.  

After a while, I grew tired, and I swam my way over to a cluster of particularly large rocks. I pulled myself up onto one and stretched out on its warm surface. Peaking around to make sure that Frank hadn’t snuck up on me without my notice (I had been carefully avoiding him ever since getting in the water), I noticed that the rocks blocked me from view of the entire group, and I allowed myself to relax. The surface of the rock was smooth, as if made for lounging, and I soaked up as much of its warmth as I could. 

I nearly screamed as a hand closed around my ankle and jerked me out of my peaceful daze. 

I clamped my mouth shut as I caught sight of a grinning Jamie, his curls wet and dripping around his face, his upper body resting casually on my rock. 

“Sorry tae startle ye, mo ghraidh. It’s jes’ that ye looked sae bonny and peaceful, I couldna help myself.”

The hand moved from my ankle to caress up the outside of my calf and squeeze. Even just a subtle touch like that had me sitting up and reaching for him. 

“Get up here, bloody Scot,” I whispered. 

We both took a quick glance around to ensure no one else had wandered into our secluded spot, and then the next moment, Jamie was hauling himself up next to me and gathering me into his arms. 

The kiss was nothing like the one the night before. Jamie took his time, lips soft and giving as he patiently pressed them to mine. His hand reached up to cup my neck (God his hand was so big) and his thumb massaged it gently. The kiss was a slow burn, but the fire nonetheless scorching for it. I felt him smile against me as I smoothed my hands greedily over the bare skin of his back.  

“I’ve missed ye,” he murmured against my lips. 

“We’ve been together all day,” I teased, knowing completely what he meant. I had been feeling the same way. Being so close to him yet forbidden to touch him or even pay attention to him was maddening. 

“Aye, but ye and Frank have been together all day, too,” Jamie’s voice absolutely dripped with jealousy, and his burr came out strong with Frank’s name, turning it into a derisive “Frrrrrank.” 

“I don’t want to talk about him, I just want to enjoy being with you,” I pleaded as I fused our lips together again. 

I hated that every moment had to be stolen in secret. Even now, I would have given anything to spend time simply laughing and joking with him, wrestling him in the water. But beggars couldn’t be choosers, and I was pretty darn grateful for his kisses. 

But Jamie must have somehow read my thoughts, because he was pulling back and taking my hand. His eyes held a gleam of mischief. 

“Will ye swim a bit wi’ me, Sassenach?” he asked. 

When I nodded, he splashed into the water, and then dragged my hand down so I followed him. 

I had adjusted to being on the warmth of the rock, so the moment my body submerged under the freezing water, it was a shock to my system. I cursed under my breath and began to shiver. 

Jamie laughed at me, his eyes crinkling delightfully at the corners. 

“Cold, lass?” he asked in a teasing tone. 

“Of course I’m cold,” I chattered, “aren’t you?” 

“Nae. Ye ken Scots dinna get cold, Sassenach. Come ‘ere and let me warm ye up.” 

Jamie’s hands found my hips, and he pulled me through the water until I was pressed flush against his bare chest. I smiled and wrapped my arms around my neck and my legs around his waist. 

He floated around for a while with me clinging to him like a koala bear, keeping his arms tightly around my shivering form as he waded further backward. 

“I kent ye were naturally cold, but ye really are freezin’, puir wee thing. Ye’re shaking’ so hard ye’re makin’ my teeth rattle,” Jamie commented. 

I nodded pathetically against his chest. 

“Would be quite a shame if I were tae--”

All of a sudden, Jamie was dipping me backward into the water, making to throw me from him and submerge me. 

But I clung to him with all my might and let out a whisper-screech, and he was forced to straighten back up, laughing. I scrambled further up his body, climbing him like a tree in an effort to stay out of the water. 

“Alright, if ye’ll no’ leave me, I’ll jes hafta go wi’ ye.” 

With an evil grin, Jamie bent his knees, and we both plunged under. 

I pushed on his chest, breaking free of his arms and swimming backwards away from him. 

“Traitor,” I hissed, “you’re supposed to be my personal heater.” 

“And yer supposed tae be my girlfriend, no’ my baby koala,” he shot back. 

“I’ll show you baby koala,” I laughed as I lunged toward him. 

I grabbed the top of his head and made it shove it downward under the water, but I had underestimated Jamie’s strength, and he simply didn’t budge as I attempted to pull his face down. 

I froze, looking at Jamie and the mischievous gleam that had returned to his eyes. I had just enough time to mutter a “crap,” before he was on me. 

I had to suppress a squeal as, instead of grabbing for my head as I had expected, Jamie dove under, grabbed my ankle, and tugged me sharply downward. I gasped in air just before my mouth went under the surface. I kicked wildly in the murky water around me, hoping to catch Jamie in the rib as payback, but my feet made no satisfying connections. 

My head popped back out of the water, and I saw Jamie bobbing a meter away. 

He started swimming, and I pursued him all the way to where the lake grew slightly shallower and we could both touch the bottom. 

Once I reached him, I shoved at him playfully, and he indulgently pretended that I was actually propelling him backward. 

“Alright-- alright,” he said between laughs as I continued to push at his chest, “truce.” 

I paused and eyed him warily. 

“Seal it with a kiss?” 

“Always,” he said as he leaned in eagerly with lips puckered invitingly. 

Just before he reached me, I cupped my hands and sent a spray of water right up into his face. 

Jamie sputtered at the splash, and then looked up at me, mouth agape in betrayal. 

“Ye’ll pay fer that, little lassie,” he growled. 

He was just about to lunge toward me when a shout of “Claire? Jamie?” came from a short distance away. We both froze and looked at each other. 

“Over here!” Jamie yelled. 

“Och, thank Christ. We thought ye may have drowned,” came Rupert’s answering call. 

“Nae. Jes’ got distracted swimmin’ after a fish and found Claire. Come on, lass.” 

I leaned in to give Jamie one last gratuitous, self indulgent kiss, and then we swam back to the group. 

We had a picnic on the beach, all inhaling our sandwiches and crisps as if we hadn’t eaten in days. Then, we spent the rest of the afternoon lounging around and taking in the beautiful sight. After we had enough of lazing about, we decided to call it a day and head back. As we finished packing up, Frank appeared at my side and offered to help me on the walk back. I insisted that my ankle was much improved and declined politely, and I watched as his face fell in disappointment. From behind him, I noticed Jamie’s light up. 

I walked back (by myself, thank you very much) at a brisk pace, eager to remain at the front of the group and away from Frank. 

Geillis kept looking at me and gesturing toward Frank, but I just ignored her. 

I was pretty worn out from a long day of playing in the water. I was drooping in fatigue in that way one does after their strength has been sapped by the cold. When we all squished together into the van, I found myself sitting next to Jamie in the back. As Dougal began the long drive back, the rumble of the van underneath me began to lull me to sleep. 

I craned my head back to rest it on the seatback and frowned, knowing there would certainly be a crick in my neck by the end of the drive. 

As I began to drift off, I felt a big, familiar hand gently tilt my head and guide it onto his shoulder. I smiled sleepily and nuzzled my face into Jamie’s shirt. 

Best part of the trip so far. 

***

Dinner was leftover spaghetti and salads because we had been too cheap to buy anything else. I still wolfed it down, and didn’t even mind the taste of the accompanying beer. We played a drinking game after dinner— Angus insisting that beer and tequila were a dessert. It was something with cards, but I was so confused by the rules and so bad at it that I was drunk within only a few rounds and had no hope of ever actually learning the game. Frank was drunk too, and he was fully pressed against my side, an arm slung casually around my waist. 

I stiffened, trying to send the message that it was an unwelcome touch, but either he didn’t notice or didn’t care, because his arm remained. 

Geillis shot me a million-watt smile, and said, “they’re so cute together, are they no’, Dougal?” 

Dougal only made a Scottish noise in his throat before picking up his beer. 

I couldn’t bear to look toward Jamie to see either his rage or his despair. 

I ducked out of the game politely, saying that I was well beyond my drink limit, and then tore myself from Frank’s grip and scurried off to the bathroom. 

I shuddered to myself as I looked in the mirror. 

One more day, Beauchamp. Tomorrow you go home. You can do this. 

I ran my fingers through my wild curls and then stepped out of the bathroom. 

I was just passing the final door in the hallway and about to reenter the living room when a hand shot out and tugged me by the wrist into the dark room. I stumbled straight into Jamie’s solid chest.

“Sorry, I didna mean to scare ye, but seein’ him touchin’ ye like that drives me mad.” 

His arms looped possessively around my waist, and I melted against him. 

“It drives me mad, too,” I said as I was fitted perfectly into Jamie’s embrace. 

He drew back and hooked a finger under my chin to tilt my face upward. He leaned down and attached his mouth to mine, kissing me like he never wanted to do anything else. His lips pressed insistently, withdrawing for a moment only to dive back in again with renewed fervor. Our kisses made soft snicking sounds in the dark room as he pressed and released. 

“Jamie--” I forced out between kisses, “I-- they’re going to-- mhmmm-- notice we’re gone.” 

He pulled back reluctantly, and my lips tingled with the absence of his touch. 

“I suppose ye’re right. Go on then,” he said sadly with a tilt of the head. 

He placed a solid (but surprising soundless) smack on my bum as I leaned in for one last quick kiss and then left the room. 

*

The rest of the night’s entertainment went by in a flash. Frank was all over me. It was like a game of cat and mouse-- I’d evade him for a moment only to be cornered the next. I finally ended up on the floor next to Geillis, desperately linking my arm to hers in the vain hope that it might discourage Frank. 

We were all seated on the floor in a circle and looking expectantly at each other in the hopes that someone might suggest something else. 

A suggestion did come, but not a welcome one. 

“How about we play spin the bottle?” Geillis giggled with raised brows. 

I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. Thankfully, Rupert piped up. 

“Tha’s no faiiir,” he whined, “the only lasses here are ye and Claire. I dinna want tae end up kissin’ this numpty,” he jerked a beefy thumb in the direction of Angus, who was staring drunkenly down at his hand as if it was the most bizarre thing he’d ever seen. 

“He has a point, Geil,” Jamie declared in support, “I dinna think we have quite the numbers tonight. It’s late, perhaps we should go tae bed.” 

Geillis nodded in acquiescence. 

All at the same time, we staggered to our feet, using any available object for support. 

“Before we part ways, I hafta suggest a wee room trade,” Geillis said suddenly. 

Everyone froze at that. We were all tired and beyond desperate for a soft bed. I noticed everyone’s eyes widening in dismay. Rupert looked ready to stomp his feet like a toddler having a tantrum. 

Geillis shot him a look. “Dinna get yer panties in a twist, I didna mean you. I would like to spend the night wi’ Dougal, so how about I go tae his room and Frank goes tae Claire’s room so they can have a wee bit o’ alone time?” 

Horror flooded my veins and I suddenly went still as a statue. My brain provided a very unhelpful mantra of no, no, no but produced no coherent response, or better yet, rejection to offer Geillis. 

My eyes flicked helplessly to Jamie, and I found him seething with rage. His hands were clenched at his sides in tight fists of barely controlled anger. 

“Alright by me,” Frank piped up from beside me. 

All of a sudden, all of Jamie’s jealous fury exploded. 

“That’s it!” He bellowed, and launched himself across the room. 

He shoved Frank away from me so hard that the poor man went staggering backward until he plopped down on the couch. Jamie whirled to face me and grabbed me forcefully around the waist and jerked me against him. 

“Claire is my girlfriend, alright? We’re dating! My heart and soul belongs to her, and I canna bear tae see this go on fer another second. She’s mine.”

The room was absolutely silent and dead still as everyone stared at me and Jamie. His declaration hung in the room for the longest moment, and the tension was so thick I thought I would have been able to feel it if I waved my hand through the air. Jamie still had me pressed against him tightly, and was looking around with narrowed eyes as if daring anyone to try to take me from him. 

Finally, the silence was broken by the sound of Geillis beginning to laugh. 

“Took ye long enough.” 

Now it was mine and Jamie’s turn to be steamrolled by shock.  

“What do you mean, ‘took you long enough’?” I asked slowly, finding my tongue to be thick and heavy in my mouth. 

“I’ve been tryin’ tae get him tae do that all weekend!” she exclaimed. She had the audacity to sound exasperated. 

I just stared at my friend blankly. She rolled her eyes. 

“That’s what the whole “Frank thing” was about. I needed a way to force ye to fess up.” 

I was still so taken aback that I couldn’t seem to find my voice. But Jamie did. 

“Ye kent? About us?” He asked incredulously.

“Aye, of course I did! Ye two arena exactly discreet. Ye cannae keep yer hands tae yourselves, fer Christ’s sake! Any moment when ye think no one’s lookin’, ye’re all over each other. Plus, ye always disappear at the same time. And ye didna think we’d catch on?”

Angus chose that moment to speak up. “For the record, I didna ken a thing.” 

“Shut yer mouth, ye big oaf,” Geillis hissed, “this isna about you.” 

She crossed her arms and looked at us accusingly. Her sharp, squinted eyes demanded answers. 

I sighed. Jamie shifted a little next to me and resettled his arm around my waist-- more comfortable and supportive and less possessive now that it had been made clear that I was off the market. 

“Claire and I have been seeing each other ever since we went off to University of Edinburgh,” Jamie began to explain. 

Dougal clapped his hands in triumph and elbowed Geillis. “I told ye it’d been that long.” 

Jamie leveled him with a look. “Do ye wanna hear the story or no’?” 

Everyone fell silent, and I picked up the narrative. 

“I’m sorry we didn’t say anything sooner. You know Jamie’s parents wouldn’t approve, and neither would my Uncle, so we decided to keep things a secret while at home until we could break the news to them.” 

Everyone nodded understandingly. Relief made all the tension flow from my muscles, and I leaned heavily against Jamie. Our friends just stood there staring at us for a long moment, as if sizing us up as a couple. I felt like a mannequin on display, and held Jamie a little more tightly. 

“Were you terribly surprised to figure out we were together?” I found myself asking to break the silence

“Och, no, the lad’s been head over heels for ye since ye were bairns,” Dougal said with a dismissive wave. 

I looked up at Jamie with a smile. “What? Is that true?” 

The dusting of red making its way up his neck to his cheeks was all the answer I needed.  

“Aye. I kent I was gonna marry ye the first time I laid eyes on ye the first day of primary school. It jes’ took a little while fer adult us tae catch up.” 

My own cheeks burned at his words and I went up on tip-toes to place a sweet, chaste kiss on Jamie’s lips. 

Hollers came from Angus and Rupert, ever the childish ones, and I pressed my smile onto Jamie’s. 

Suddenly, a thought occurred to me. Frank hadn’t said a peep the entire time Jamie and I were explaining ourselves. With a furrowed brow, I turned behind me to where Jamie had pushed Frank onto the couch. 

As I did, I was greeted by the sight of him completely passed out and slumbering peacefully on the couch. 

“I guess he’ll get filled in sooner or later,” Jamie chuckled. 

We turned back to the others. I felt a lightness in my chest at the transparency and was relieved that I had the freedom to spend time with Jamie as much as I pleased again. 

“Well, I guess we really will have tae change rooms now,” Geillis announced, “I’ll sleep wi’ Dougal, Jamie’ll go wi’ Claire, and Frank--- weel, I guess Frank’ll sleep out here tonight.” 

Jamie’s hand slipped up under my shirt to rest on my bare skin. I felt him tap his fingers against my side in eager anticipation of being together again. I couldn’t help but smile to myself. 

“Sounds like a plan, goodnight everyone,” I said. 

I had barely finished bidding everyone goodnight when Jamie began dragging me down the hall toward my room. 

Good night indeed. 

***

The next morning, after a leisurely breakfast, we took our time packing and cleaning up. Someone must have brought Frank up to speed, because now it was his turn to mope. Jamie, on the other hand, was all smiles. He clung to me like a starfish all morning, finding any excuse to touch me. He was more than happy to flaunt our relationship in front of Frank now that he had the opportunity. As I did the dishes (and Jamie was supposed to be sweeping), he came up behind me, wrapped his arms around my waist, and began to trail kisses down the side of my neck. I turned and playfully smacked a sud-covered hand on his cheek, leaving him half a soap beard. A small wrestling match occurred as Jamie tried to reach around me to grab some soap for his revenge, but it was soon broken up by a “dinna go wild now, ye two” from Dougal. 

Later, as I started toward the car, ready to load my bag, Jamie caught up to me and snagged it from my hand. 

“May I take this for ye, milady?” he asked cordially, pressing a kiss to my cheek. 

“I am capable of carryin’ a little duffle.” 

“I ken that fine, my strong wee lass. Only I love ye verra much and wish to serve ye.” 

“Well, if you put it like that…” 

I handed him the duffle and smacked him on the bum as he started toward the door. He let out a whoop of surprise and jumped. Nothing was more satisfying. 

Watching the whole exchange in the corner was Frank, his dark eyes hard with jealousy. 

As Jamie disappeared outside with my bag, I felt compelled to approach the Englishman. 

“Listen, I’m sorry if you felt I led you on. I really tried not to give you any signs I was interested, Geillis just kept shoving us together. I hope there’s no hard feelings that I’m with Jamie.” 

I extended a hand to him and gave him my best apologetic smile. He looked from my hand up to my face, then back to my hand. Ignoring the proffered appendage, he shouldered past me and muttered “slut” under his breath. Then, he had disappeared from the room. 

I stood rooted to the spot. Completely floored by his attitude, I couldn’t seem to bring myself to move. 

Jamie returned to find me in that position, staring off at the hallway down which Frank had disappeared. 

“Sassenach? What’s wrong?” He asked. 

He moved closer and slid an arm around me as if sensing I needed support. 

“Frank just showed me his true colors I guess,” I quietly said, still taken aback. 

Jamie was instantly moving into my line of vision. “He didna try tae touch ye again, did he? I swear I’ll--” 

I cut him off before he could go listing threats. “I tried to apologize to him and say no hard feelings...” I said quietly. I fixed my gaze on Jamie and furrowed my brows, “and he called me a slut.” 

Jamie stiffened. I could see the rage flicker over his face before he composed it. He looked me in the eye for a moment, gauging whether I was okay. Finding me satisfactorily composed, he straightened up. 

“I’ll kill him,” he said decidedly. 

He began to stride with single minded purpose toward the bedrooms, his fists clenched at his sides, but I snapped out of my daze and caught his wrist to pull him back. 

“It doesn’t matter, Jamie,” I said, “really, it doesn't. I couldn’t care less what Frank thinks. He was all over me all weekend without permission. I’m with you, darling. Let’s just forget about him. He can sulk all he wants on the way back, and then we never have to see him again.” 

I tugged on Jamie's arm pleadingly and prayed that he’d see reason and abandon his task of pummeling Frank into oblivion in defense of my honor. After a long moment, he gave me a stiff nod. I relaxed, and Jamie followed suit, the angry set of his shoulders softening. 

“No man should speak tae ye that way, but if ye ask me tae leave it be, I will,” he said softly. 

He stooped down to kiss me lightly on the forehead. 

When he pulled back, I caught his hand and gave it a squeeze. 

“Come on, let’s finish loading up. Maybe this time I’ll take your bag for you.” 

*

If Jamie had been clingy before, he was insufferable the entire ride back. We ended up on the bench seat in the middle together, and he didn’t stop touching me the entire ride home. I knew he checked the rearview mirror to gauge Frank’s reaction behind us, but the man doggedly stared out the window, completely silent the entire time, refusing to look at us. The ride was much quieter as a whole-- everyone was tuckered out from the last few days. I separated myself from Jamie so that I could shift to the side, and then I laid my head down on his lap. 

Ever so gently, his fingers began carding through my hair. He started up a delightful rhythm-- a press of fingertips into my scalp, a swirl, and then a gentle pull as he tugged carefully through my curls. Every once in a while, he would change it up, and take his whole hand to brush the lot of it away from my face. His touch was so tender and relaxing that I began to drift off. 

I had nearly fallen asleep when I felt lips pressing to my temple. 

“I love ye, Sassenach,” he whispered. 

I tilted my head so I could smile sleepily up at him. “I love you, too.” 

His hands cupped my cheeks, both thumbs stroking over them, and I opened my eyes wider. 

He was looking down at me with a complicated look on his face-- a mix of love, affection, and something far more serious. 

“What is it?” I asked, placing a hand over his where it cradled my face. 

He gave me a smile. “Let’s tell my parents and your uncle when we get back, aye?” 

I broke into a beam and nodded against his lap. 

“Yes. Let’s tell them. I’ve had enough of this keeping secrets business to last a lifetime.” 

***

THE END. But not really! Here’s the sequel The Deal

[orsuliya]

Many are saying, that there is no passion betweenAwu and XQ. That from the beginning they both behave like old couple that have been together for 50 years. Calm, respect and domestic bliss. No craziness, no passionate words and deeds, no nothing. And I feel so sad that their crazy passionate all consuming love is not obvious to everybody. I've been married for 12 years now and my hubby still treats me like I'm made of glass. There is no craziness, but the calm I feel in mt heart... It is invaluable. For me their love is the perfect one. And I honestly haven't seen anything so perfect on the screen before.

Many need to check their glasses prescriptions, because that passion is right there and small it ain’t, that’s for sure. I thumb my nose, oh ye doubting Thomases, at this alleged lack of passionate words or deeds. Don’t know about you, good people, but for me the Re-do Wedding itself maxes out the scale; as far as grand gestures go that one is just perfect: very grand indeed, utterly shameless, more than a little schmoopy and, at the end of the day, surprisingly useful. Do I even need to comment on all those timely rescues? For all that Awu is not exactly a damsel in distress, she sure has been a subject of a lot of those. I hear that dramatic rescues are supposed to rate among the most romantic things a male lead can do, was my info faulty...? And it’s not like that’s one-sided since Awu runs into danger without hesitation, declaring that should anything happen to her husband or father, Song Huaien will need to carry her own cold, stiff body back home. As far as passionate romantic declarations go...!

Also, let be me disgustingly prosaic for a moment: for all that nobody gets naked onscreen (well, other that Mi’er), it is rather obvious that Awu and Xiao Qi get it on. A lot. In probably rather adventurous ways. I mean, they see absolutely no problem with promising each other various... things. While in public. In the middle of the Imperial Palace. Where anybody can hear them - and they probably do! - but is there even a hint of genuine, non-playful bashfulness to be found in their demeanor? The answer is a big, fat NO.

At the end of the day, their relationship - as is yours, you Unbelievably Lucky Nonnie - is the eternal fire of the hearth and the steady heartbeat of the home. A love like that doesn’t throw us at the mercy of waves and storms, but anchors us to home, wherever that home might be. For all the things simple and domestic to withstand the withering effects of time and everyday adversities, there must be a great burning love hidden in that hearth; hidden does not mean non-existent, but rather treasured and carefully guarded.

Okay, that is getting a tad too sentimental even for me, back to more prosaic considerations! The reason why this particular drama doesn’t seem to resonate with a good portion of younger audiences is rather simple. Bloody Mouse from Hell. Okay, not only Disney, western pop-culture as a whole. See, we’ve been taught that all conflicts and sweeping declarations of passion come before the marriage or even before the first grand kiss. After that there’s only the Happily Ever After, a concept as mind-boggling as it is suspicious. Yes, I know that Disney has been stepping away from their straighforward romance formula recently, but I am a true millenial, I have a constitutonal right to point some very pointy fingers at dear old Walt. All the work gets done before the final declaration of feelings and it’s smooth sailing from then on. Any male who makes an effort is guaranteed to be rewarded with a female; the only healthy exception being Gaston, who, when you think about it, is the scariest villain of them all (and there is good reason for that). Moms die in mysterious ways and females supporting females is a thing that happens from time to time... but is by no means guaranteed. Oh, and if you are not a walking talking perfection with one, maximum two funny quirks, there’s no place for you among the heroines. Those are the lessons I learned in my childhood. Didn’t stick, let me tell you. Wait a bloody moment, Zitan totally watched himself some Disney!

Now, let’s look at what happens in a considerable portion of mainstream adult programming. What happens is that if a couple gets together in the first season finale (which is early all the same), there is little chance of them being left to simply... be, unless they get relegated to background characters. Happily Ever Afters are booooring. Fine, I say, maybe they are. You need CONFLICT. And that’s fair! But there is no reason why you can’t spice things up using external factors; have this couple form a united front against a common danger and there’s your conflict! Yeah, no. Internal conflict and especially romantic one is much easier and cheaper. I am not saying it’s all bad - couples naturally go through such obstacles - but there comes a point where you have to ask this question: why the hell are they still together when they would never be able to trust each other again? Forgiveness only stretches so far and does not mean a totally blank slate. This is not, by any means, an invitation to start fridging female characters! I see what you’re doing, you bastards!

Thankfully things are changing. Not always and not always in the right direction. Disney in particular is doing something... weird with its main canon or was Mulan a one-off hiccup of terrifying proportions? Female-empowering that wreck was certainly not. Unless they meant Special Females, who are not like Other Females... okay, not the point right now.

The point is that Awu and Xiao Qi are married by episode 8 and in love by episode 14. Which is right where the end of the first season would be. And then... nothing. They are in love and form a rock-solid front against external enemies. The only real change in their relationship is that they grow stronger, first individually and then together.

It gets worse! We, the viewers, get a metric tonne of false leads of the kind, which we have been taught will inevitably lead to at least four episodes of conflict. So where are our four episodes of dealing with Xiao Qi’s household and uppity maids? Do as Wangfei says, that’s what we get. Where’s Xiao Qi’s burning jealousy over Zitan? I would prefer you not to go, but do as you wish, that’s the extent of it. By all known rules, he should start looking at Awu with suspicion once he guesses that Song Huaien is infatuated with her or at least take Huaien to task. There’s... absolutely nothing? This whole affair with Screecher? What do you mean you can simply ask your husband what happened and then trust his answer?! That’s not how it works! Get thee away to Turnip’s house for a couple of episodes at the least! And don’t even start me on the great performance of the Yuzhang Acting Company! There is a reason why people were loathe to recognize it as a performance and nothing but!

The Rebel Princess keeps purposefully missing those obvious cues for conflict and thus the viewer, used to much, much higher emotional amplitudes, simply nods off on this relationship. But that’s not on the drama, that’s on our erstwhile trainers.

[miekasa]

SCREAM!!!!! OKAY you get me YOU GET ME!!!!!! and YES the fact that the giant fighter robots are called Jaegers like...the material on hand...there’s SO much one can do!! it’s for multiple ships and for multiple reader-inserts, like hello world!!!! one of THE best aus!!! it could be an eren x reader fic where eren’s family (sadly, gr*sha 🙄) spearheaded the program hence Jaegers, and idk what the plot would be, but there would definitely be family drama. dee-lish, deelish! jean x reader, where jean is a pilot and reader works in the lab....angsty and fluffy! hange as the scientists with their apprentice armin and reader who is gonna start working there? if you’re a coconut head stan, go for it! i personally...headcanon it as a levi x reader fic because i’m a whore for levi 😌 they’re co-pilots. like unpacking all that between reader and levi, and going through the mortifying ordeal of being known just so humanity’s strongest and his partner could bring down the kaiju? yeah yeah 😌 and on the other side of things...the drift. ahem. the things one can do here. mentally holding each other in place to keep one from chasing the rabbit—oh HO the communication issues! suddenly knowing the other person so well that they nonchalantly save the last lemon curd cupcake for them because it’s their favorite and their partner was late to the mess hall. suddenly knowing how to brew tea to perfection. that neural connection lingers after a fight, and co-pilots are drawn to each other (whispers: bed sharing...and it progresses...to a lot more). mmhm mmm. i just...it’s modern romance that completely reinvented the concept of soulmates and elevated it and made it absolutely transcendent okay!!!!! i have a lot of feelings about this kinda au, literally it eats my brain and i daydream about it a lot 👁👅👁

YES TO ALL OF THIS!!! YES ABSOLUTELY YES!! The mortifying ordeal of being known... the idea of letting somebody into your head and literally knowing the inner most mechanisms of your mind, body, and soul... it's so tender; it's so fucking GOOD!! OKAY here me out for some options below

Okay, here me out: Kenny and Levi who, despite their unconventional uncle-nephew relationship, are just about the best pair of co-pilots anyone has ever seen (bc you know, shared trauma brings a family together). Until Kenny is killed on a mission, and Levi has to find a new co-pilot. Cue oc, Levi's childhood best friend, a talented engineer, and Hange's right hand woman. Hange suspects oc and Levi would be pretty compatible, maybe even with a higher compatibility than Kenny; except, oc has no plans to be a pilot, and Levi wouldn't want to do a drift with her anyways, because that would mean letting her into his mind, and, subsequently, letting her know that he's in love with her.

Or, alternatively, oc just happens to be a new recruit who is talented, and drift compatible with Levi, and become good friends through their training. Over time, it's Levi who realizes that he feels something for her outside of the drift, and finds himself drawn to her and picking up on little habits and preferences. It's too bad she's already engaged to one of Levi's closest friends.

Or, Eren's family spearheaded the Jaeger robots and obviously receive government funding to engineer them and keep them going. The whole family is pretty impressive; tho it damaged her, Carla was the first woman to solo pilot a Jaeger and saved an entire country, Gr*sha is the head engineer, and Zeke and Eren are pretty damn good co-pilots. But some other nations have suspected that Gr*sha has been making faulty Jaegers for them, and making the best ones for his home country; and oc is the person sent to by one of these nations spy/steal the blueprints/maybe even kill the Jaeger family, and ofc she somehow meets Eren and falls in love in the process.

OR scientist coconut boy and oc who were childhood friends, and who both shared a common interest in deep sea creatures. She's really interested in the kaiju themselves and has her own theories about where the come from and their overall biology, that would sound crazy to any government official, but Armin believes her wholeheartedly. However, having nearly been killed in an attack, oc grows apart from her love of the ocean and the animals; so while Armin goes on the study and aid the Jaeger program, she finds a new hobby, far away from the kaiju. When it comes time to try and close the breech, all the scientists, Armin included, are stumped and there's a few puzzle pieces they can't quite solve, but Armin remembers oc's theory, and he knows that she's about the only person in the world who could help save them right now, so obviouslyyy he has to go and find her and bring her back and ask for her help and you get it.

Okay one more because I love Jean. He and Marco are pilots, and oc is actually Marco's girlfriend; she's a civilian, and lives in their hometown. Except, in their most recent drift, Jean and Marco have been having some difficulties; Marco isn't letting him in as much, and when he finally does, Jean sees that Marco's been hiding that he's been cheating/cheated on oc. Jean is upset with him, but hardly has time to reprimand him or talk it out fully because Marco dies on their next mission. Enter oc, who joins the Jaeger program to avenge the death of her boyfriend, which wouldn't be an issue, if she weren't drift compatible with Jean, the only person in the world who knows what Marco did wrong.

As you can tell, I have many thoughts about this. I am obsessed with this movie. Very much. Thank you for coming to my TED talk.