#from s6e6

[draculovemp3]

Guy and his top ShowDog

[themanwhowouldbefruit]

what god awful tasteless 2010 joke were they going to have here

[toms-cherry-trees]

Ash & Shadows || Tommy Shelby x Reader

Summary: The night is long and dreary. Does the future hold hope, or is there just pain left?

Word count: 4.9k

Tags: Implications of major character death, grief, angst, Tommy being and asshole and then regretting it, set after s6e6 so I had to work around that hot mess. It has some Gothic and ghostly themes

Author’s note: A CALENDAR YEAR I PROCRASTINATED THIS but I HAD to finish it so, enjoy?

The tears have long dried in your cheeks, but their saltiness lingers in your tongue. Your throat feels parched, but you cannot find it in yourself to cross the few steps that separate you from the cup of stale tea in your nightstand, nor any of the dozen abandoned beverages that litter the master bedroom. There’s whiskey with water on the mantelpiece, sitting next to some plain water, and remnants of milk with honey and cinnamon, in which you suspect Frances mixed some drops of laudanum, for you felt strangely calm after drinking it, but not enough to find sleep. The bed is a mess, proof of your restlessness, the sheets and blankets hastily pulled from the corners and wrapped tightly around you like a protective cocoon, in hopes that the comforting swaddle will keep you whole for one more night. But they do little to placate the unforgiving cold spreading through your insides, a chill sprouting from within your very soul.

The ash and soot linger on your hands, caked under your ruined nails and smeared across your raw skin. Your clothes have not been changed in days, and they smell of burnt wood and petrol, mixed with something unspeakable and revolting. The stench is rooted in your nostrils, so pervasive you taste it in your mouth, in your throat, in the depths of your lungs. It spreads through your veins and seeps into your bones, consuming your spirit in waves of black and death. You are overcome by the vile venom, and even the mere evocation of it makes you choke and heave violently. A foulness you will never be able to forget, perennially engraved in the deepest corners of your memory, alongside other grim chapters of your past. But unlike others, this has changed your life, your self, the very course of your existence. You cannot fathom how the world continues to spin and the sun to rise in the horizon after such ground shattering devastation has occurred. 

Your husband is dead, that much you know. He is dead and you are still alive and in your heart, that goes against the laws of nature. You are not meant to exist without the other. You had swore to grow old together, how could he leave you thirty years before his time? How could he leave when your children had not even learned to tie their shoes themselves yet? He had not yet commissioned the treehouse he promised them, how could he abandon them halfway through?

You should have known something was amiss. You knew your husband, better than anyone could. You had a way to read his thoughts and forestall his actions that not even his late aunt could comprehend. Only you could dissipate the fog from his troubled mind and unravel the rigmarole which composed the very foundations of his existence. He had once said, late at night, with his arm around your waist while he believed you fast asleep, that he felt like a man standing alone under a wicked thunderstorm, and you were the only one brave enough to face the tempest and come to him with an umbrella, even at the risk of your own life. But he would forever take the umbrella from your hands. Your life before his, every single time.

How could you not foresee this?

Ever since the failed assassination on Mosley, Tommy had slowly but steadily gone down a steep slope, one not even you could rescue him from. Life had never shown him mercy; every time he reached the pinnacle, a new mountain blocked his way, mightier and deadlier than the last. He had surmounted them all, not without penalty, leaving blood bathed bullets and bodies in his wake. But at last, Tommy had found his Everest. The summit taunted him, unreachable; the death of his aunt clobbered him like an avalanche, and the man he became after that didn’t hold the slightest resemblance to the man you fell in love with. You were sure that if you sat the present day Tommy before the one he used to be in 1919, they would not recognise each other.

He tried to keep you shielded from his meetings with the fascists, the rallies, the gossip and scandal. Only he knew the dangers that lurked in the shadows of the garden while you sat before the fireplace reading stories with your children. And only he knew about the stacks of bills being passed from hand to hand, sealing deals and pacts that promised to change the course of history. Tommy only wanted you to worry about your charities, your horses and your pretty dresses, and leave the rest of the world upon his steady shoulders.

In his mind, oblivious meant safe. For you, it felt like a lack of trust in your person. And that soon morphed into bitter resentment, never shown openly but perpetually simmering just beneath the surface, ready to erupt. Lying had always come easy to him, but it became harder when his lies were unmasked in the morning paper. How could he pledge innocence when his face showed up on the front page next to the leader of the British Union of Fascists? How could he deny his guilt, with Diana Mitford right at his tail?

How could he pretend leaving you in the dark was for the greater good?

Everything came to a breaking point when he suddenly summoned you to his study to inform you he would be departing for Canada the following day, with no clear return date and refusing to elaborate on what called him so suddenly to cross the Atlantic. The more you pressed for answers, the more he manoeuvred around them with carefully premeditated replies of vague content, half finished sentences and loose words, so unlike him that the lies unravelled on their own before your eyes. His total carelessness over the situation and the dismissal of your worries became the drop that tipped the glass. Months of carefully concealed rancour came bursting to the surface like an erupting volcano. 

You called him every name in the book, reminding him of the things you had endured for his sake over the long course of your relationship, while he could not even allow you the decency of forewarning you of such a trip or offer an acceptable explanation for such haste in departure, the acrimony in your heart even making you ask if he had special company for the journey. His impassive silence only irked you further, and you told him he could get a one way ticket to hell for all you cared, before slamming the door to his office so violently you heard a painting fall and shatter on the ground. 

The day after, you rounded the kids in the foyer for the mandatory goodbyes. He hugged them all long and tight, a rarity in itself for a man who had become so cold and withdrawn he barely spared them a glance in the mornings over his newspaper. And then he kneeled before Charlie and placed a brand new gold pocket watch in the boy’s little hands. Your husband said men wore pocket watches and he would be the man of the house now. The boy only stared back, perplexed, and nodded once silently before pocketing the precious object with utmost care.

You remained irate, arms crossed over your chest, fingers drumming on your arm impatiently. It was hard to tell you apart from an enraged bull staring at a red cloth. A part of you felt like a petulant child, but after so many years of marriage and everything you had silently withstood for him, you could no longer hide the hurt and disappointment, feelings far too familiar that you had grown accustomed to conceal. You only allowed him a brief goodbye, turning your face away when he tried to kiss your lips, presenting your cheek instead. He didn’t protest, his lips lingering on your skin longer than they had done in years, his gloved hand cradling the back of your neck and playing with your hair. His free arm circled your waist and pulled you close, face moving to rest in the crook of your neck as he inhaled deeply, as if committing the scent of your body to memory.

A strange sense of foreboding filled you, but you forced it out of your mind. 

If you had known what the future held ahead, you would have jumped into his arms, engraving in your memory every detail of himself; the feeling of his hands on your waist, the timbre of his voice. Traced every nook and cranny of his face with your fingertips, over and over until you could forever recall it. You would have kissed those lips until they bled, and with the same ferocity, you would have screamed and clawed and made the windows rattle and the ground shake, demanding an explanation. Demanding to know why.

The days passed, and the worry began to gnaw at your chest. The hotel address he gave you didn’t exist, nor did the phone number which he scribbled down hastily seconds before crossing the threshold, only after you demanded to have a way to contact him should an emergency arise with the kids. The kids. Not you. Over his shoulder, as if an afterthought, he said he would call. After the first week of silence you had a landline installed outside your bedroom, and you would stare incessantly at the apparatus, willing it to ring. One time you heard the faint ringing in the study from the entrance door, and you rushed to it with such haste you vaulted over a sofa and snapped your high heel off. But it only turned out to be Ada, checking in on you. Ever since that day, everyone seemed to grow suspiciously closer to you. Calls and visits and days out. Ada inviting you to London and looking after the kids to give you a day off. Curly and Charlie coming often to help the kids tame their new ponies. Arthur would come too, far too often to be normal, and he would sit across from you in the living room, nursing a whiskey in his hand and poorly attempting small talk, always looking ready to be sick and evading your gaze.

Their pitiful stares didn’t go unnoticed, nor did some carefully chosen words, such as how your kids would always be looked after and provided for in the family, how they would always be there for you and would support whatever you chose to do with your life. Praising your strength, offering their support, always looking away or changing the subject when you asked if your husband had called them. The thinly veiled edge of desperation in your voice seemed to stir something within them, and redoubled their efforts in consoling you for something you didn’t yet know.

The truth laid bare before your very eyes, just an inch out of reach, concealed just enough to keep you in the dark with confusing glimpses of the life ahead.

But the passive games and the uncertainty came to an abrupt halt one bright sunny morning, the skies blue and clear like Tommy’s eyes and a gentle breeze fanning over the gardens. You told the nannies to prepare the kids for a picnic in the meadow, and helped Frances set up a plentiful food basket. But just before you could set foot out, a car stopped in the driveway. The frantic knocking on the door and the slurred screaming had you fearfully peeking out through the draperies, your finger readied on the trigger of a gun, only to see Arthur slumped against one of the columns of the entrance, calling out your name. Before he could say another word, you knew he had relapsed back into the opium, acquired from who knows where. Even from afar, he reeked of alcohol and smoke, face bloated and eyes bloodshot and swollen. He staggered forward, nearly toppling over you before falling to his knees, his face distorted in anguish. You tried to pull him up, to coax some sort of explanation out of him, anything to placate the worry crawling up your chest.

A million possible scenarios played in your head, yet not even ten lives could have prepared you for the simple words that escaped his mouth.

“Tommy is dead”

From that point on, memories become elusive. Only fleeting moments remain. You recall your own hands, hands meant to nurture, caress and comfort; hands that wiped tears, stroked hairs and tickled bellies, your kind and gentle hands gripping Arthur’s coat lapels and pulling on him with such force he came back to his feet, startled. You remember shaking him violently, teeth gritted and vision blurred with hot tears, your mascara running down your cheeks. Your lips parted to scream, but you cannot recall what words came out of your mouth. Arthur tried to pry your hands open and take some distance, but then you slapped him across the face. Or maybe not. Perhaps it was a punch. Or maybe a detail that never happened, later added by your wrecked mind. Because you hoped that if you screamed and punched and tore the world to pieces you would awaken from that nightmare.

You saw the smoke long before the car reached the side road. The perfume of the blooming flowers could not mask the wafting aroma of charred wood, petrol and burnt fabrics, with something else you could not quite pinpoint, but smelled vile and pernicious. A cheerful meadow stretched out before you, bright green dotted with white and yellow spreading as far as the eye reached across gentle hills. And amidst all, a scorched patch of land, and a pile of still smouldering debris, wisps of acrid poison swirling in the docile spring breeze. 

You leapt towards the vardo’s remains, but Arthur restrained you, slender but firm arms circled tight around your waist as he attempted to comfort you; as if there could be any comfort for you in that moment and place. You fought him with tooth and nail, scratching and biting and kicking like a frenzied beast, cursing his name, his bloodline and his entire existence. All he did back was shush you, a hand pressed to your abdomen, his arm around your chest as your knees gave and you collapsed into him, agonising wails wracking your to your core.

You cried out for Tommy, but only death called back.

In time, the smoke cleared and the pyre cooled, allowing you a clear view of the massacre before your very eyes. Like the leftovers of a bonfire, wood so thoroughly charred it disintegrated on the hand, mixed with scalding pieces of metal and leftover rags that once were curtains and bedding. You fell to your knees, frantic fingers digging at the ash and earth bare handed, soot and dust clinging to your sweat doused skin, getting in your eyes, your nose, your mouth. Your fingers ached and your skin reddened and blistered in the heat, but you felt nothing, nothing but the overcoming grief coiling around your heart, constricting your throat and freezing the blood in your veins. Your tears sizzled as they fell on the ground. You dug and dug, panicked sobs reverberating in the emptiness of the meadow, your pain a sharp contrast with the chirping of the blackbirds on the branches. 

You could find but only a few scarce belongings that survived the conflagration. A couple of gold sleeve garters. His pocket watch, the mechanism somehow still working. The frames of his reading glasses, the crystals having been lost to the heat. No matter how deep you dug, his wedding ring was nowhere to be found. And everything else had turned to ash and dust.

Ashes of the vardo. 

Ashes of your memories together.

Ashes of the man.

The love of your life swept away by the wind.

~

You no longer know if it’s day or night. The heavy drapes are closed, and only a few dying embers remain in the hearth. The room is cold, more than usual, robbed from the warmth of fire and the warmth of love. Time passess differently when grief has its clutches around you. Every second is too slow, yet every day moves by too fast. Three days have swept by, maybe four, plus the month of faked departure in which he roamed the fields while you believed him across the pond. His scent is fading from the pillows, from his clothes, from your memory. You sprayed some of his cologne on your wrists but it's not the same because it is not on his skin. It is not mixed with leather, ink and gunpowder. It is not him.

You already fear you are forgetting the right colour of Tommy’s eyes, the various hues mixing in your mind but none seems quite right. Are they the colour of the sky on a bright summer day? The tranquil sea surrounding the ship that took you to your honeymoon on the continent? Do they match the aquamarines from the demi parure he gifted you on your birthday, just because he said their colour suited your skin?

No. No do. Did. Because his eyes are no more. His bright eyes, his rare smiles, his handsome face, his protective hands and everything in between are no more. They are just ash and dust, a pile abandoned in the middle of an open field being swept by the wind and rain.

Floorboards creak on the hallway, but it could be the scurrying maids as much as the wandering spirits that populate your home, souls rooted in the land due to unfinished businesses from their past lives, acting as owner and keepers of a place where you are but a temporary guest. A door slams shut somewhere in the house, and the windows creak and rattle under the assault of the brewing tempest. The room grows icier, if possible, your breath rising in puffs of white. Your fingers feel stiff, achingly clutching onto an old pocket watch. Even the rings in your hands have turned to ice.

You curl tighter into yourself, if possible, your palms pressed to your face to warm your freezing nose and lips. Sleep threatens to take you, but you fight it with all your might, for the only place worse than life right now, is inside your head. The nightmares have chased you ever since that day, each one more horrifying than the last. But the body beats the mind, and your eyelids, heavy as lead, fall shut, your consciousness slipping away in waves.

You cannot be sure how long you slept, or if you did at all, when something startles you into attention. You sit up abruptly, heart beating frenziedly in your chest. The room is pitch dark, and for a moment you are disoriented, unsure of where you are. It takes long seconds for you to notice there’s a body next to yours, and a heavy, warm hand is pressed against your back to support you.

When you turn your head, the scream falls from your lips involuntarily, and you are positive your heart stops briefly. He looks so well, so perfectly well and common, so alive. Your hands are on his face, on his neck, running down his chest and arms as your mind struggles to come to terms with the image in front of your eyes.

“Tommy?”

Shrouded in black, his hair damp and  tousled, and perfectly unharmed. As if he were just returning from a session in Parliament. His hand slides up your body, from your back to your shoulder, then your neck and up to cup your face, thumb brushing against your tear streaked cheek. You lean instinctively against his touch; the warmth from his palm spreads through your skin like a soothing balm. It feels safe; it feels like home, like the place where you belong. 

His free arms circles your waist and pulls you into him, your head tucked between his chin and shoulder and your body pulled onto his lap. Both of your arms wrap tightly around his middle, fearing that if you let go, he would disappear like smoke, forever this time.

“Tommy? Tommy, what happened? Where have you been?” Tears brim again in your eyes, and the coil tightens around your throat “I…I don’t understand. Arthur said that you were…that you were” The word, that word, cannot make it past the knot. The word you so dreaded to accept. “I saw the ashes in the meadow”

He says nothing, nothing besides a hum of acknowledgement at your words. His thumb brushes back and forth against your cheekbone, the other hand tracing lines up and down the length of your spine, causing your belly to flutter. You are confused, terribly so, your thoughts reeling with the need for answers. But Tommy, as usual, offers none, and you don’t really want to spoil the moment, not when your heart is finally at peace after the terrible weeks you’ve endured.

The embrace goes on forever, none of you making effort to move or speak. Every now and then you feel his lips brush against your forehead, or his nose bury in your hair and inhale deeply, drowning himself in your scent. The storm howls outside, windows rattling with the strength of the wind, the glasses mercilessly pelted by ferocious raindrops. By now, the children would usually be awake and crowding your bed, seeking safety under your blankets. But peacefulness reigns their slumber that night, and you are grateful for it. You desperately need this moment alone with your husband.

His head tilts suddenly, just enough to place a gentle kiss against your temple, then his lips brush against the shell of your ear

“I am sorry” His voice is raspy and worn, as if it has not been used in quite some time “For everything. For keeping you in the dark, for not trusting your strength. For everything I put you through” His embrace around you tightens into an almost painful grip, as if he wishes to fuse his body into yours “You are fierce. And strong. The strongest woman I know. You can overcome anything, nothing could tear you down”

For some reason, those words do not sit right with you. They feel ominous, almost like a forever goodbye. You try to crane your neck to get a better look at his face, to read his expression, but he resists, hidden in the curve of your neck. Your heartbeat quickens in panic.

“I am only strong when I have you by my side. I need you, Tommy. These past days have ruined me. I cannot tread upon an earth you do not exist in.” Your fingers dig on the fabric of his coat, and for the first time you notice his clothes are dampened and smell faintly of wet soil and smoke.

Tommy chuckles, the familiar sound reverberating inside your ribs. He shifts again and his lips are against your forehead, continuing to refuse you a clear glimpse of his face.

“You were strong when I met you. You were strong when I tried to push you away for your own safety. And I know you will continue to be. For the family, for our children. They need you. You are their whole world”

Again those words, those threats of a future in which he had no place. The tears come back with renewed strength, blurring your vision and choking the words in your mouth, but you manage to force them. You cannot leave anything unsaid, not if he’s planning to abandon you once more.

“They need their father too” You protest “Please, Tommy. You can’t walk away again. Not when you are back in my arms” Your grip tightened to accentuate your words “I lost you once, I cannot do this again. Please don’t make me do this again Tommy. If you leave, you might as well kill me now, and spare me such misery”

“I can’t stay” The words cut like blades through your heart and lungs, and for a moment, you can’t remember how to breathe “I’ve got to go, but I promise you, I will always be with you. I’ll never leave your side, whether you can see me or not. I will always be your husband, in this life and the next” You cannot be sure, but he seems to be holding back sobs as well “So many things went wrong. So many mistakes that cannot be fixed. What’s done cannot be undone” Those words do not seem directed to you, but rather thoughts spoken out loud, an airing of frustrations he’s kept bottled up.

You pull away from him, so fiercely not even his strength can keep you still. Your hands cup his cheeks and pull him down until his forehead is against yours. You can barely discern his features in the darkness of the bedroom, so you use your fingers to gently trace the slope of his nose, the sharpness of the jaw, the softness of his lips. His breath fans over your face; he smells all over of nature, of dirt, of open fields and pine woods. 

“There is nothing that cannot be undone. Do you hear me? Nothing. Nothing that we can’t work out together” You can barely contain your desperation “You are Thomas Shelby. You can pull down the moon if you desire; you could bend the King to your will. How can you not fix whatever troubles you?”

His hands envelop yours, fingers gently prying yours away; but instead of dropping them, he cradles them gently, bringing them up to his lips to press tender kisses against your knuckles. His lips linger against your wedding ring until the metal warms.

“Not everything is fixable, my love. There are things not even I can undo. Some mistakes are permanent. I tried, tried my whole life, but I am not God, not yet” He pulls you into his chest again, and pulls the blankets around you “But you don’t need to worry about that now. The hour is late and the sun will soon be up. You need to rest, my sweet dove. Sleep and dream; I will be with you”

You wanted to protest, to pull away, to not let him finish things like that. But you suddenly felt terribly exhausted, as if the last days had dropped on top of you with the weight of boulders, and his arms were so comforting. He gently rocked you both back and forth, a hand on the back of your head and the other on your back. The last thing you remember is Tommy murmuring sweet words of love in your ear. You cannot remember them exactly, but you fell asleep with a smile on your lips.

The next morning you awake tucked in bed, buried between pillows and blankets and wearing a clean nightgown. You sigh contently and stretch your arm to the side, towards Tommy’s side, but find it to be cold and empty, feeling something powdery between your fingers.

Your eyes shoot open, sitting so abruptly you see spots dancing in your vision. The room is bathed in sunlight, all the curtains drawn back. Outside there’s a perfect spring morning, and you hear the dogs barking and the gardeners going about their duties. Once your eyes adjust to the brightness, you discover that the powdery thing on the mattress appears to be ash, or dirt, you are not quite sure. The sheets are stained with it, and when you stand from the bed, you find a trail of residue all the way to the door. Upon inspection, you notice some of it has been left on the door handle, as if someone grabbed it with dirty hands.

The door nearly slams on your face as Frances pushes it open, carrying a breakfast tray. You both jump with a startle, but she manages to keep her wits enough to not drop the tray at your feet

“That was quite a scare you gave me there, Mrs. Shelby. But it’s wonderful to see you at last out of bed” Frances says, as she leaves the tray on a small table with two chairs “The nanny has taken the children to the stables, so you have a quiet morning ahead of you”

You reach out to pick your robe, your thoughts still filled with the encounter of the previous night. You want to ask Frances, but choose not to, not wishing to be taken as a madwoman. What would she say if you told her your dead husband had slept in your bed the previous night? So you play ignorance, and sit before the table, your stomach rumbling at the sight of buttered toast

“That’s good, but don’t let them out for too long. It ought to be quite muddy and damp outside from the storm, and I don’t want them getting sick”

Your fingers are curled around the steaming teacup when she speaks again.

“Storm? There was no storm, Mrs. Shelby. I was up quite late and the skies were clear, although it was a moonless night, so everything was quite dark”

The teacup stops midair, and a cold shiver runs down your spine, goosebumps covering your flesh. You had heard the wind, the rain, felt the rattling of the windowpanes and the water running down the pipes. Then, you notice a glint on your ring finger. A glint that was not there the night before.

You now wear two wedding bands. One the perfect size, one a few too big. And outside your window, the blackbirds begin to sing.

[epicbuddieficrecs]

Weekly Recap | January 8th-14th 2024

TWO MONTHS UNTIL SEASON 7!!!

I'm sorry it's late and I'm sorry if I missed anyone but my ao3 history was sortof a mess 😩 I think maybe some userscript I downloaded is fucking up my history. oh well. (or else someone has hacked my ao3 account and has been reading House M.D. fanfic?!?!? (how the fuck did I even get in my history, I don't even remember searching for anything that had House fics in the results wtf))

Complete

Followed By Ghosts by itsanapothecary (Canon Divergent, S1-S2 | 21K | Teen): Instead of hiding the truth about Daniel from their children, Margaret and Philip memorialize their lost son in every one of their remaining children's accomplishments. Growing up, neither Maddie nor Buck felt like they could escape the shadow of their brother. When Buck finds the 118, he gets a chance to be his own person, although the looming attention from his parents and weight of expectations threatens to jeopardize what he's built in Los Angeles.

no harm, no foul by callmenewbie/ @callmenewbie (Getting Together | 5K | Mature): Eddie knows how Buck feels. Buck knows how Eddie feels. So why is Eddie giving him the cold shoulder instead of talking about it?

what to do when evan buckley breaks into your house at 3:17 in the morning by oklahoma/ @malewifediaz (Love Confessions | 3K | Teen): After a night out drinking with Maddie, Buck (kind of) breaks in to Eddie’s house.

Wait For It by oliviacirce (PWP, Post-S6E6: Cursed | 8K | Explicit): Buck kind of liked not jerking off.

in a fix by rainbow_nerds/ @rainbow-nerdss (Getting Together, PWP | 4K | Explicit): Buck gets himself into a bit of a sticky situation, and Eddie helps him out.

we were lucky once (could be lucky again) by hattalove/ @hattalove (Post-Break Up | 1K | Teen): which they're not together anymore, but they can't sleep apart.

Mark Me Like a Bloodstain (Burning Red) by sirencalls/ @usersiren (Vampire Eddie, Post-S4, PWP | 3K | Explicit): “Eddie, you’re freezing,” Buck says, worry creeping into his tone. “Eddie, we need to get you to the hospital—” “No.” His voice is echoey and strange, definitively not human, and he picks up on the way Buck’s pulse quickens. Fuck, he’s scaring Buck. The human part of him is ashamed, guilty for making Buck ever be afraid of him. The vampire part of him is delighted, is even more wanting because of it, and that’s why he calls himself a monster.

Kinktober 2021 series by sirencalls/ @usersiren (PWP | 31 works | 68K | Explicit)

all that is you makes up all that is me by soyxunxperdedor/ @messyhairdiaz (Post-S6E11 | 1K | General): “I was just checking if you’re ready…” Eddie says faintly, trailing off as his eyes track the path of the lightning seared across Buck’s skin. -or- In the aftermath of a lightning strike, Buck and Eddie have a conversation.

Long Overdue by mansikka (PWP | 3K | Mature): Eddie realizes his feelings for Buck are more than platonic; what's he supposed to do now?

kiss me, kiss me (i don't know if i can let you go) by ipretendtobesane/ @useramor (Getting Together, Accidental Kissing | 10K | General): If anyone ever asks- they were both drunk. Eddie knows they weren’t, he and Buck don’t like to drink during the week, regardless of whether or not they work the next day. If they are working, they don’t want to be out of it on the job, and if they’re not they don’t want to be out of it when Christopher wakes up the next morning at 7:00am with more energy than either of them can handle. But there’s not really a good explanation otherwise. No other way to explain why, as Buck was walking out the door, Eddie leaned in and gave him a soft kiss goodnight.

til there was you by woodchoc_magnum/ @woodchoc-magnum (Hurt Buck, Married Buddie | 16K | Mature): In which Buck's appendix tries to kill him in the middle of a busy shift, and Eddie has to stage a dramatic rescue.

spread a little christmas cheer by soyxunxperdedor/ @messyhairdiaz (Post-S3E10: Christmas Spirit, PWP | 1K | Explicit): Eddie has a realization at the Christmas party and goes the wrong way with it.

do you love me? all you gotta do is say yes by fleetinghearts/ @shitouttabuck (Friends to Fiances, Crack | 3K | Teen): “It’s always pretty fun to see a former fuckboy from your grad school era bootycall list all domestic and settled down.” or, two boy best friends and an ex lover walk into a grocery store. everyone is on their normalest behaviour.

🔥 Echoes of Your Name by sirencalls/ @usersiren (Canon Divergence, PWP, Sex Worker Buck | 9K | Explicit): Of course he’s immediately wary of it. Porn videos have never worked for Eddie, so why would the audio version of them be any different? It’s the same strangers faking the same moans and whines as the other actors, just without a pretty face to go with it. Eddie thinks it’ll almost be less effective—seeing every tiny reaction that someone has to what you’re doing to them is part of the fun—so he doesn’t have high expectations. He doesn’t expect it to work.

marry me, eddie diaz by elisela/ @elisela (Marriage Proposal | 1K | General): There’s a long silence, and then, “you do that a lot,” Eddie says, looking over at him strangely. “I do what a lot?” “Ask me to marry you,” Eddie says. “I know it’s just a joke, but I feel like—” he stops and shakes his head, bringing his hand up to rub the back of his neck.

sit present in the darkness by elisela (Post-Shooting, Established Buddie | 4K | General): In the midst of stories about their jobs, catching up on what the kids have said, and making endless fun of each other, Eddie’s sitting at his seat with his phone face down on the table in front of him. Occasionally it will buzz and he’ll look around the table, pick it up when he thinks no one is watching. He types something quickly, looks over his shoulder at the kid’s table—where Buck has been since the food was brought to them—and puts it down again. Face down. Karen knows this game. She’s played it before, almost lost.

WIP

🔥 Precious & Fragile Things by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Small Miracles AU, Angel Buck | 13/? | 31K | Teen): Buck is the Fallen Angel of Petty Temptation, who has been tasked with tempting human Eddie Diaz to sin and enjoy life, but just a little. He thinks the job will be easy - get in, get out, go back to Peru to continue messing around with eternity. But when Buck arrives in Los Angeles, he finds Eddie is harder to tempt than expected, and more compelling than Buck had hoped.

🔥 and if i bleed (you'll be the last to know) by diazchristopher/ @captain-hen (Canon Divergent Season 6, Friends with Benefits | 2/18 | 9K | Explicit): or, an alternate look at season 6 where buck and eddie have been casually sleeping together since before the beginning of the season. somehow, this changes both everything and nothing at all.

🔥 Things We're All Too Young to Know by @cal-daisies-and-briars (Canon, S1 through S6 | 106/? | 290K | Mature): This is a love story. Even if it doesn’t always look like it. Even if it doesn’t always feel like it. A look back on Eddie and Buck's lives up to now, and what led them to each other, interpreted from the current 9-1-1 canon.

Innocence died screaming, honey, ask me I should know by JJK/ @trenchcoatsandtimetravel (Demon Buck, Canon Divergent | 9/? | 15K | Teen): Buck is a demon with the power to help with pregnancy, childbirth, and infant health. When the Buckleys make a deal asking for someone to help 'save their baby', Buck leaps at the chance as it will give him what he's always wanted: a life on earth. But demon deals are tricky and neither of them gets quite what they're after. This is Buck's journey as he navigates growing up on earth and remembering how to help those in need.

🔥 for all the haunts and homes of men by euadnes/ @kananjarus (Canon Divergent, Post-Apocalyptic, Station Eleven Crossover | WIP | 12/? | 105K | Mature | Warning: Violence): The year by the old calendar is 2025. Home is gone. Home is a failed rescue mission and an echo of a memory. Home is a lost boy living in a wooden house by the sea. But first, there was a promise. Christopher, when it's safe, I'll take you back to your father. Buck had all but given up on keeping it after the world had died and everyone in it. But just as some oaths refuse to be forgotten, so the same can be said about the endurance of love.

🔥 Right Where You Left Me by hyacinthusbloom/ @thebloomingheather (Canon Divergent, Post-S4, Angst | 21/? | 106K | Explicit | ❗️Warning: Rape/Non-con): "Therapy?" Eddie suggests. Buck almost laughs, but instead says, "I'll go if you go." Because he had fully expected him to be chicken shit, to disagree, and instead Eddie, the bastard, replies, "Deal." Or Buck never tells anyone that he slept with his therapist and deals with the butterfly effect years later.

🔥 a foundation of trust and love we cannot see by lemonzestywrites/ @lemonzestywrites (FWB, BDSM, Sub Eddie, Dom Buck | 2/17 | 24K | Explicit): “It’s like I want to explore it and dive into it, but it’s not exactly like I’m seeing someone to try this all out with,” he explains, doing his best to keep down the annoyed huff that threatens to escape him at every other word. Buck nods to himself before steadily going silent. For a minute, Eddie thinks that this is the end of their conversation. “I can show you if you’d like.” Eddie nearly chokes on his beer.

Love Ends. by rowan_wood (Exes to Lovers | 5/17 | 7K | Explicit): But what if it doesn't?

Re-read

🔥 Relationship Advice from Complete Strangers Online by HMSLusitania/ @hmslusitania (Getting Together | 4K | Teen): When he gets home for the night, Buck turns to the one source of information that’s never let him down: the internet. But where does one go for relationship advice from complete strangers online? Which is how, ten minutes later, he finds himself on Reddit with a shiny new account and username. It takes him a while after that to craft his question for r/Relationships, but he thinks he’s got it pretty accurately conveyed before he hits post.

🔥 You Could Be The One I Keep by browney3dgirl6/ @hoodie-buck (Didn't Know They Were Dating | 6K | Teen): Eddie finally get's up the nerve to ask Buck out, his best friend accepting much easier than Eddie ever dreamed. Things are better than ever between them, the two of them becoming even closer, going out on several dates—only problem? Buck has no idea they're dating, like not even the slightest clue.

[bronzeagepizzeria]

A COMPREHENSIVE DEFENCE OF EVERYTHING TENTOO (PART 1)

Because unfortunately there’s a lot of stuff out there to refute.

so i guess a lot of people are watching doctor who right now because of good omens. and that, for some reason, means the tags are being constantly subjected to Certain tentoo takes so...it's meta time.

in this meta, i'll be rehashing how, exactly, tentoo is the doctor, and answering some other commonly posed objections to the pairing that is tentoo x rose.

But he's not the Doctor! Rose ended up with a copy!

First things first. The entire show revolves around the philosophical concept of Cartesian Dualism--the idea that the soul/spirit/mind has an entirely separate existence from the physical body. This is the basic principle of regeneration; when the Doctor regenerates, every organ, every cell in his body changes, and yet he remains the same man. What makes the Ninth Doctor the same man as the Tenth Doctor? There's something underlying here---the memories, the mind, the spirit. The body, has absolutely no significance.

In S6E6, The Almost People, we are introduced to the Ganger!Doctor. This is a man made out of like, slime, but he has the Eleventh Doctor's memories. Thus, he IS the Doctor. The Doctor himself says this.

In S9E11, Heaven Sent, the Twelfth Doctor is reduced to ashes millions and millions of times, and yet each time his body is 'recreated' or 'cloned', he remains the same person. Why? Because the memories persist. The soul lives on.

Here, have it straight from the horse's mouth.

"A man is the sum of his memories. A Time Lord even more so." - The Fifth Doctor, The Five Doctors, 1983

More evidence? What's the first thing the Tenth Doctor tries to do in Born Again to convince Rose that he really is the Doctor she knows?

DOCTOR: Very first word I ever said to you. Trapped in that cellar...Surrounded by shop window dummies. Oh...such a long time ago. I took your hand...I said one word. Just one word...Run.

Right. He shows her that he has the same memories.

Now cast your minds back to S4E13. What does the Metacrisis Doctor say when he's trying to convince Rose he's the same man?

Therefore, according to the lore established by the show itself, his missing heart has no significance to who he is. He is the Doctor.

2. But he's a CLONE.

Okay, first of all, he's not. He's a biological metacrisis, the only one of his kind. He has only one heart, i.e, he is not biologically identical to the Time Lord Doctor.

Second, even if he was, he would STILL be the Doctor. As established above.

Third, we see a Martha clone in S4E4, The Sontaran Stratagem, and she is a far cry from what we see of Tentoo.

3. Alright so he's not a copy. He's still only A Doctor! He isn't Ten, he's Half-Donna!

So. We've established that what makes a man is his memories.

If the Doctor had Donna's memories, he wouldn't be the Doctor anymore--which makes him ending up with Rose redundant. Here's the silver lining though.

Tentoo has only ten's memories. His own memories.

'How do we know this?' you may ask. Let's examine the script of S4E13, Journey's End.

(The Daleks spin around on the spot.) DALEK: Help me. Help me! DONNA: And the other way. NEW DOCTOR: What did you do? DONNA: Trip switch circuit-breaker in the psychokinetic threshold manipulator. NEW DOCTOR: But that's brilliant! DOCTOR: Why did we never think of that? DONNA: Because you two were just Time Lords, you dumbos, lacking that little bit of human. That gut instinct that comes hand in hand with planet Earth. I can think of ideas you two couldn't dream of in a million years.

Not very likely if Tentoo had her memories, right? This happens again, in the TARDIS Coral deleted scene:

DONNA: If you shatterfry the plasmic shell....you accelerate the growth power by fifty-nine. DOCTOR & NEW DOCTOR: We never thought of that.

There we go. Canon evidence that Tentoo does not have Donna's mind/memory/thought process. Instead, we see his mind being constantly referred to as that of his Time Lord counterpart.

4. So what exactly happened during the 'metacrisis' then? Why was Donna unable to sustain the change whereas we're meant to assume Tentoo is doing fine?

What happened in JE was a two-way metacrisis.

Tentoo is a biological metacrisis, i.e his mind remained the same, but the regeneration energy in his hand picked up on Donna's human biology and grew a human body. (His body is PART human, as in the ageing part. He'll grow old, and never regenerate.)

Whereas, Donna's body remained the same; she got the Doctor's mind, becoming the DoctorDonna. She is essentially the Doctor AND Donna, at this point in time.

At one point in JE, there are three Doctors ("There's three of you?") because as proved earlier, anybody that has the Doctor's memories, is the Doctor. There is: the Time Lord Doctor (Ten), the Human Doctor (Tentoo) and the Doctor Donna.

Since Donna was a human, she could not sustain the Doctor's mind alongside her own, which is what led to it burning up. It was simply too much for a human brain to take.

Tentoo, as proven earlier, does not have Donna's mind.

5. But he talks funny.

We are shown the Doctor picking up her mannerisms. The Doctor regularly picks up things from people he travels with. He "imprints" on Rose as a newly regenerated being and is shown to pick up on his companions' accents very often.

On a more analytical level, the "Donna mannerisms" bit is obviously comedic relief in an extremely action packed episode (evidenced by the fact that he literally never sounds like Donna again throughout the episode) and isn't meant to be taken that seriously. In every other scene, he is played by David Tennant, exactly as ten.

Tentoo is the Tenth Doctor, but human. In every way that matters, he is exactly Ten.

6. But he's Season 2 Ten! He doesn't have any of the character development Time-Lord Ten does!

Erm. Yeah. You've got to watch the show again.

7. Alright. Okay. If Tentoo is the exact same man, he would get bored of a life on earth with Rose. They'd never last.

Now we've got to address a key aspect of the Doctor's arc. (Keep in mind, when I refer to the Doctor herein, I only mean the Ninth and Tenth, the ones written by Russell T. Davies.)

The Doctor always wanted to be human.

The Doctor, and the Tenth Doctor in particular, wants to be human. It’s peppered here and there throughout the first four seasons, but if you watch closely, there’s this underlying current of wistfulness in him (“I’ve never had a life like that”; “The one adventure I can never have”), not to mention the entirety of the Human Nature two parter.

I think to some extent Rose made him feel human, and it’s his alienness that’s the big barrier in their relationship. He doesn't allow himself to love her the way he wants to because of the difference in their life spans. Because he's a Time-Lord, and he has a responsibility to the Universe, and he can't be more selfish than he's being already, keeping her with him.

She makes him want to be human, to be loved and to be free to love her as he wants to. She even helps him forget, sometimes, that he isn't human. Remember his expression in The Stolen Earth when he sees her again? He is so glad to see her. In that moment, it doesn't matter that they can never be together, because Rose loves him so much she came back.

I'm reminded of a quote from Buffy The Vampire Slayer:

I know that I'm a monster. But you treat me like a man.

And then bam. The almost-regeneration. The crushing reminder that he is intrinsically different from her species, from what he aches to be. Constant and selfish and free. Human.

Giving Rose up to his other self was the most selfless, loving thing he could’ve done. His other self, who is uninhibited, unburdened from the responsibilities of a Time Lord—can and will give Rose everything she deserves.

8. Just make Rose immortal then! Happy endings all around.

Now you might say, the earlier problem could be solved simply by making Rose immortal—she’d stay with the Doctor forever and she’d never have to leave him!

Here's the thing. Being immortal is Not Good.

A constant theme throughout seasons 1-4 is that immortality is not desirable. There is a constant motif of “living too long”, whether it be from Jack, the Face of Boe (cough), or the Doctor himself.

Things are only precious and meaningful because they end—the human way of doing things? Fast, and bright, and temporary? It’s the right way.

One of the many reasons the Doctor loves Rose is because she’s human—it’s a big part of why he’s attracted to her in the first place.

Besides, an immortal Rose would mean having to outlive her family, her friends, everyone she’s ever known—who else has experienced that? Oh, yeah. The Doctor. I can’t imagine him wanting her to go through the same thing under any circumstances.

9. Rose would never accept him. She wanted the adventure too, not just the Doctor.

This is the Rose who instantly felt connected to a parallel version of her parents. Remember, this Pete and Jackie had NO memory of her, and yet, she loved them. Tentoo IS Ten.

She also constantly refers to Tentoo as The Doctor, so I have faith in her figuring it out just fine.

As for the adventure, being human doesn't mean they're suddenly going to become accountants or work in childcare or something. (Looking at you, Jenny Colgan.)

Canon (Big Finish) tells us that they both work with UNIT/Torchwood, so we know that they're out there, defending Pete's World together.

'What about the TARDIS?' you may ask. Well, the writer considers it canon that the previously linked TARDIS coral scene did take place, so we can imagine that they're out there, exploring a new Universe.

But even if they didn’t have a TARDIS, we only need to look to S1E13, The Parting of the Ways, to understand that Rose cares about the Doctor above all else.

ROSE: But what do I do every day, mum? What do I do? Get up, catch the bus, go to work, come back home, eat chips and go to bed? Is that it? MICKEY: It's what the rest of us do. ROSE: But I can't! MICKEY: Why, because you're better than us? ROSE: No, I didn't mean that. But it was. It was a better life. And I don't mean all the travelling and seeing aliens and spaceships and things. That don't matter. The Doctor showed me a better way of living your life. You know he showed you too. That you don't just give up. You don't just let things happen. You make a stand. You say no. You have the guts to do what's right when everyone else just runs away.

Of course Rose loves the TARDIS. She just loves the Doctor more.

More evidence? S2E8, The Impossible Planet:

DOCTOR: ....They were grown, not built. And with my own planet gone, we're kind of stuck. ROSE: Well, it could be worse. This lot said they'd give us a lift. DOCTOR: And then what? ROSE: I don't know. Find a planet, get a job, live a life, same as the rest of the universe.

Clearly, she doesn't mind settling down---not if it means staying with the Doctor.

DOCTOR: I promised Jackie I'd always take you back home. ROSE: Everyone leaves home in the end. DOCTOR: Not to end up stuck here. ROSE: Yeah, but stuck with you, that's not so bad. DOCTOR: Yeah? ROSE: Yes.

Here's another conversation she has with Jackie in S2E12, Army of Ghosts:

JACKIE: No, but really. When I'm dead and buried, you won't have any reason to come back home. What happens then? ROSE: I don't know. JACKIE: Do you think you'll ever settle down? ROSE: The Doctor never will, so I can't. I'll just keep on travelling.

"I can't." Not I don't want to, or I'm not interested---I can't. Rose is in love with the Doctor, and she knows at some level that the feeling is mutual. She also knows, he will never fully act on it.

But that's alright, because she loves him so much she's made her peace with it and with his limitations.

And instead of the typical female protagonist sacrificing things for her love interest trope, we get RTD flipping it on its head and letting Ten deliver the ultimate sacrifice, perform the ultimate act of love---letting Rose go.

By doing this, he's giving her everything he never could. It's beautiful. It's heartbreaking. It's the best love story ever put to television.

Let me conclude with this quote:

“Firstly, Rose is neither shallow nor stupid. She doesn’t settle for second best. She gets the person she fell in love with. And, as a bonus, he’s now able to spend the rest of his life with her, as she with him. Secondly, the very same person who experienced the heartbreak of losing Rose for the first time now experiences joy at the prospect of a lifetime in her company. In this full sense, the Doctor who lost, finally wins.” - Paul Dawson, Doctor Who and Philosophy.

10. But the Doctor and Rose ending up together is disgusting! They were platonic!

…..

[handyowlet]

The definitive (as best as I could do after transcribing all of S2 myself) list of when Crowley calls Aziraphale by his name versus calling him Angel.

Aziraphale

- [ ] S1E1- 2007- phone booth, we need to talk about apocalypse

- [ ] S1E3- 3004 BC- Noah’s ark (crowd)

- [ ] S1E5- 2018- Soho, bookshop fire, calling out to him to find him

- [ ] S1E5- 2018- Bar, confirming it’s Aziraphale’s spirit after discorporation (background patrons)

- [ ] S1E5- 2018- Air Force base, greeting Aziraphale when he is possessing Madame Tracy (Shadwell, guard)

- [ ] S1E6- 2018- Walking in to AF base, lick/kick butt line (Tracy, Shadwell)

- [ ] S1E6- 2018- AF base, telling him to shoot Adam (Them, Tracy, Shadwell)

- [ ] S2E1- present day- in Bentley after Beelzebub tells him about extreme sanctions, talking to himself

- [ ] S2E3- 1827- Edinburgh, in the crypt to get Aziraphale’s attention when he’s babbling about saving Wee Morag (technically Elspeth is there but not paying attention to them)

- [ ] S6E6- present day- Bookshop, when angels and demons are talking about war because of the halo thing (Michael, Uriel, Saraqael, Muriel, Dagon, Shax, Furfur, Maggie, Nina)

3 private, 7 public, 2 in public but likely not overheard (so his name appears to be the more public option)

Angel

- [ ] S1E2-2018- Tadfield, dropping Anathema off at home (Anathema)

- [ ] S1E3- 1793- Bastille, time is frozen

- [ ] S1E3- 1862- St. James Park, holy water scene (background park-goers but they’re kind of whispering)

- [ ] S1E4- 2018- Soho outside bookshop, run away with me argument (background pedestrians)

- [ ] S2E1- present day- outside coffee shop after hearing Maggie call him an Angel (technically background pedestrians, Maggie has walked away by then)

- [ ] S2E1- present day- back room of bookshop trying to convince Aziraphale to abandon Gabriel

- [ ] S2E2- 2500 BC- Job’s palace, saying Aziraphale sounds jealous about having choice

- [ ] S2E2- 2600 BC- Job’s palace, asking if Aziraphale is sure he won’t kill the kids (Ennon, Keziah, Jemima)

- [ ] S2E2- 2500 BC- Uz, seeing God talking to Job (Job and God are there but not aware of A & C)

- [ ] S2E2- 2500 BC- Uz, when Aziraphale thinks he’s going to Hell

- [ ] S2E3- present day- In bookshop, pulling Aziraphale away from Muriel (Muriel)

- [ ] S2E3- present day, talking to Aziraphale through Bentley radio

- [ ] S2E3- 1827- Edinburgh, telling Aziraphale to give his money to Elspeth (Elspeth)

- [ ] S2E5- present day- Bookshop, during the ball, saying people will get hurt (technically the shopkeepers are in the background but they’re whispering)

- [ ] S6E6- present day- Bookshop, final 15, you’re better than that

6 private, 5 public, 4 in public but likely not overheard (so Angel seems to be the more private option)

[too-antigonish]

Lovely sad men being romantic...

This started out as a post about Win for Thursday Thursday--but I got sidetracked by this absolutely perfect scene between Thursday and Bright from Degüello.

Both men are on the verge of losing their wives. They can't quite bring themselves *talk* to each other about it. They can, however--while hiding in the dim light of the basement and standing in front of the vending machine for cover--work up the courage to perform side-by-side monologues:

Bright: The first time I saw her, she was 19. I was...not much more. The governor’s house. Garden party. Thursday: Me and Win, it was the Palais. Bright: Father was something in the Colonial Service. Thursday: Win’s old man worked the docks. Limehouse Basin. Thought I might not be too welcome, being a young copper, but he was a straight guy...

Bright: Sky was pink and pearl, band playing... Thursday: Geraldo, I think it was for us... Bright: The crowd parted for the briefest moment, and... Thursday: ...there she was, pretty as a picture.

Bright: Surrounded by all these dashing types, desperate to light her cigarette. Next thing I’d crossed the lawn. I was standing beside her. “Have you come to save me?” She said. “Yes,” I said, “I rather think I have.” And now I can’t.

The writing is beautiful and the actors' performances are so nuanced and agile--a perfect two-hander.

If you want to check it out it's in S6E6: Degüello starting at 52m46s in the Amz streaming version.

[spooky-jordan]

Hi! I just got into the X Files (currently at S1E16) and I decided to check out S6E6 (How The Ghosts Stole Christmas) for the Halloween spookiness. I'm wondering how you feel about this episode, and if you agree with the ghosts' hot takes on Mulder and Scully's dynamic.

PS: I refuse to believe it's a Christmas episode. The location-shifting mindscrews and the gore (the floorboard scene and the gunshot wounds) alone makes this episode so harrowing to me. But it's such a great episode! Especially when Lyda comments that both Mulder and Scully are attractive. I cackled out loud when I heard that.

- 🌵

How the Ghosts Stole Christmas is one of my favourite episodes of the series so thanks for asking me this!!!

I mean, where to begin? I love the entire episode from start to finish - Mulder calling Scully on Christmas Eve to come and go ghost hunting with him (NOT for a case, just for funsies) is just so adorable and also a little sad. I love when Scully tries to get out of it to go be with her family, and she asks him doesn’t he have anywhere to be? And it’s just ugh 😩 it’s such a sad moment because we know that in fact, he does not. I’m mindful of saying too much because you’ve not seen the whole show, but yeah I dunno. I just think the entire conceit of the episode is equally funny and tragic.

I looove all the comedy. I love Mulder trying to spook Scully, Scully trying to rationalise her fear. One of my favourite moments is when they find the bodies under the floorboards and Scully realises the woman is wearing her clothes and Mulder just says “how embarrassing” - Duchovny’s delivery makes me cackle.

I think the ghost’s assessments of Mulder & Scully are definitely somewhat accurate - I mean, obviously we know that Mulder didn’t bring her out there because he subconsciously wanted to commit a murder/suicide 😂 but at this point in the series, their feelings for each other are definitely more than just platonic, and we’ve seen evidence for this in the episodes leading up to it and the first movie. I think the guy ghost (whose name escapes me) basically hit the nail on the head with some of what he says about Mulder - specifically his loneliness. Obviously the ghosts are trying to exacerbate these feelings to get them to kill each other, but I think they touched on something that was definitely already there. Mulder is a lonely guy. What else does he have but Scully and his X-Files? 💔

The resolution of the episode is great - Duchovny’s acting playing the ghost impersonating Mulder is so great, I love when Duchovny gets to play unhinged Mulder. The scene when they think they’ve both been shot and are just crawling around on the floor like a couple of slugs leaving imaginary blood trails behind them makes me cackle every time. And the moment of realisation when it clicks, Mulder understanding that they’ve been tricked, knowing he’d never have shot Scully and vice versa, and the shot of them running away from the house together into the fog. UGH. I love it all.

And then of course we get that beautiful final scene. Scully choosing to turn up at Mulder’s to exchange Christmas gifts, because she realises that’s where she wants to be. It’s just 😘 perfection. It’s a super fun, silly episode with a lot of poignant shit to say about Mulder and Scully and where they are at that point in their relationship. I love it a lot a lot!

[whump-or-whatever]

Johnny Smith Whump - The Dead Zone (2002)

Below is a list of all the whump scenes I noted in The Dead Zone TV show (2002) for the main character Johnny Smith.

Spoilers ahead!

S1E1- in a car accident and coma

S1E2- attacked with a knife, painful visions of being killed

S1E7- accidentally takes Special K, bad trip and paranoia, beaten up

S1E8- severe headaches, struggling to distinguish reality

S1E10- manhandled, tied to post

S1E12- falls down hillside, cuts leg badly

S2E1- screams in pain

S2E3- almost passes out, seizes and has nose bleed, in a fight, heart stops

S2E5- hit by a car, punched in the stomach

S2E6- vision of throat being cut, falls to his knees, punched in the face

S2E7- chloroformed, duct taped to chair, falls down the stairs, attacked with sickle

S2E13- thrown to the ground, passed out on a beach after tornado

S2E14- injects himself with infected blood, passes out

S2E17- thrown to ground, held at gunpoint

S2E18- grabbed by the throat and slammed into wall, vision of being beaten up

S3E1- bloody head wound

S3E3- vision of being on fire, bleeding from ears, severe headache, collapses, cardiac arrest, visions of past accident

S3E11- in a fight, cut on the arm

S3E12- severe headache, passes out multiple times, painful injection in neck, in distress from vision

S4E1- in hospital, in distress

S4E2- hit in the head with a gun

S4E7- strangled and hit with pipe, handcuffed

S4E9- nightmares and trouble sleeping, manhandled in vision, in hospital with arm in sling

S4E11- tased

S4E12- kicked in the shin

S5E2- punched in the face, in a car crash

S5E3- falls to bottom of dumbwaiter shaft, in a fight and beaten up

S5E4- in a fight

S5E7- punched repeatedly and falls to ground, coughing, in hospital, strangled

S5E8- bound to a chair

S5E9- falls from a height

S5E10- drink liquid that makes him pass out, kidnapped, bound and gagged, minor rope burns on hand

S6E1- panting after vision

S6E2- knocked out with a blow to the back of the head

S6E4- bit by a snake

S6E5- vision of being buried alive with head injury, panting, hit in the back of the head, actually buried alive

S6E6- in a fight, drugged

S6E7- stomach pain, fever, trouble breathing, helped to walk, passes out, severe pain, troubling visions

S6E9- being burned in a vision

S6E10- knocked out with blow to back of head, kicked to the floor

S6E11- punched, knocked to ground, pistol whipped

That’s all folks!

[novaksupremacy]

The Veiled Law of Affection- Chapter 8

chapter 8 revolves around S6E6 "Conscience". Cute Benovak stuff, obvious svu case talk, some smut of course (but only a smidgen this chapter), angst, Huang and Casey buddy road trip.

Pairing: Casey Novak x Olivia Benson

Word Count: 7181

by PKJ @novaksupremacy

Read Part 7

            Henry Morton went missing from a birthday party he was attending with his mother. When the SVU team was dispatched they had trouble chasing down any leads. The video footage showed Henry disappearing, but not to where, how it happened, or even who took him. Most of what they did get was tainted by a local neighborhood watch vigilante listening in on the police scanners and strong arming suspects. The closest they got was a description given to them by the Morton’s neighbor, a young man named Jake O’Hara who swore he saw a strange man hanging around recently and that he had seen him in the neighborhood that very morning. They picked up a man that fit the description the boy gave them to a tee and brought him down to the station for a lineup.

“Why is he all banged up?” the redhead inquired after an affirmative ID had been made.

“That idiot with the police scanner was already in Billy’s apartment and beating the crap out of him when we got there. We through him out but unless we get a confession everything is circumstantial because the crime scene was tampered with.” Liv sighed, shaking her head.

“Break him or we gotta cut him loose.” Casey wrapped her arms around Liv’s neck.

“Counselor, someone might see us.” Liv smirked as she pulled the young redhead to settle between her knees, resting her hands on the ADA’s hips.

“Oh no,” Casey said mockingly and gave her girlfriend a quick kiss, a smile spreading across her lips. She pulled back just in case someone actually did happen to walk by. She placed her hands on the brunettes thighs right above the knee. Her desire to be in contact with Olivia’s body overpowered her fear of them being caught.

“Did you get enough sleep last night? You were tossing a lot.” Liv asked placing her hands on top of Casey’s.

“Did I keep you up? I’m so sorry, I think I threw my shoulder out in that last game and its been acting up.” The redhead frowned, “I’ll get it checked out, so I don’t completely screw up both of our sleep schedules.”

“Hey, you keep me up anytime you want Counselor.” Liv smiled and rubbed her hands over Casey’s, “but you probably should get that shoulder looked at anyway.” She pushed her fingertips up the ADAs wrists, under the hem of her sleeves.

“Kiss it better later?” the redhead raised her brows and sighed.

“I think I can take care of that.” Liv bit her lip, staring at Casey’s.

“Mm, I bet you can baby.” The counselor hummed. She brought her hands up to Liv’s collar and straightened it out. “We should probably get back to everyone.” She licked her lips, using the shirt collar to pull herself closer. “By the way, did I tell you how incredibly sexy you look in my suit? Watching you work while wearing my clothes, is very much a turn on.”  She pressed a languid kiss on her girlfriend then turned and walked away, her fingertips lingering behind intertwined with Liv’s. She dropped her lover’s hand as she hit the doorway and turned her head back to look at her. Liv shook her head, she knew Casey was trying to get her all riled up for later. The redhead held on to the frame for a second and winked before heading down the hallway.

“Bily’s neighbor didn’t ask him to babysit, he volunteered.” Fin said as he and Cragen walked into the bullpen trying to poke holes in the suspect’s alibi.

“How old is the kid,” Cragen questioned, listening intently.

“Five,” the detective offered as they continued to walk, “He said Billy never touched him.”

“But what about the mother?” The captain pressed.

“She confirmed Billy’s story, said he was back at the apartment by half passed eleven.”

“Could Billy have left the kid alone for a bit and come back?”

Fin shook his head, “Little boy said Billy was with him the whole time.” He and Cragen reached the crime board where Casey, Elliot and Liv were all focusing.

Cragen picked up the white board marker. “Okay so your witness puts Billy outside Morton’s home in Riverdale at eight AM. His alibi puts him back on Avenue B at eight thirty.”

“Tight,” Elliot states, “But doable.”

Casey shook her head, “No but he’s got to get back to Riverdale to follow Henry into the birthday party,” she pointed at the timeline, a contemplative look in her eye.

The captain looked back at the board, “Henry’s mom said they left no later than a quarter to twelve,

 “..and Billy didn’t finish babysitting until eleven thirty.” Fin continued.

“Well,” Liv added, “there’s no way he made it back to Riverdale in fifteen minutes. Not even on a Sunday”

“We got the wrong guy,” Cragen shook his head.

Munch hung up the phone and joined the conversation, “Looks that way, lab says hairs in Billy’s apartment don’t match the cat hair on Henry.

Casey sighed, “We gotta let Billy go,” she adjusted her posture, “We keep him much longer we’re gonna have a big, fat, lawsuit on our hands.”

Elliot grimaced, “I’ll tell the perv he’s going home.”

The redhead followed him and Liv out into the hall, she grabbed Liv’s arm “Be safe, and I’ll see you when you get back to the precinct.” She admired what her girlfriend did, but she was starting to hate the sinking feeling she got every time she walked out the door. Not only did she ache for her every time she was out of reach, but she also feared the risks that came along with her job. Heaven knows they’ve already experienced their fair share of these since they started dating.

Liv motioned for Casey to follow, and she ducked into the bathroom. After making sure they were alone she cupped the redhead’s face in her hands and kissed her tenderly, not letting go until they could no longer refrain from taking a breath. “I’ll be safe, I promise. I’ll always make it back to you.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” Casey still hanging off the kiss.

“I’ll keep this one,” she made sure to look into the ADA’s hazel green eyes as she spoke. “Okay?”

“Okay,” Casey whispered.

“Before I forget,” Liv said reaching into her pocket and pulling out a small box, “this is for you.” She opened it revealing a gold chain with a small gold plated replica of her badge and badge number.

The attorney felt her face flush and her eyes well with emotion.

Liv took the chain out of the box and unclasped it, “This, is so that I’m always with you when I’m out on the job, and so that if G-d forbid something does happen,” she put it around Casey’s neck, tucking it in to her shirt and giving her another tender kiss, “you can show this to whoever you need to, to get to me.”

“Liv, I—” the redhead looked at her girlfriend in awe, “I love—it” she cleared her throat. “I love it.”

The brunette felt her stomach fill with butterflies for a split second before Casey finished her sentence, “Good.” she said, shaking it off. “See you for lunch, Counselor.” She pulled the ADA tight and kissed her goodbye.

“Looking forward to it, Detective.” Casey bit her lip, smiling as she followed Liv back out into the hallway.

*****

Back at the station Elliot and Liv had gotten word from O’Halloran that the perp they were looking for wasn’t an adult but an adolescent. He stated that stones were found in Henry’s throat which Elliot recognized as the same ones from Jake O’Hara, the neighbor kid’s front yard. They called Jake and his mother down to the precinct and filled Casey in on what they found.

“If we are gonna charge a thirteen year old with Henry’s murder, we better have a smoking gun.” Casey said as she moved from leaning on the interrogation window and walked passed Liv and Elliot and then turned around to face them.

“We do,” Elliot said matter-of-factly, “the stones in Henry’s throat. They were from Jake’s front yard. The prints are gonna be his.”

“I bet if we go back to the party security tapes, we’re gonna see Jake.” She turned to Elliot, “We weren’t looking for a kid.”

The redhead played devil’s advocate for a moment, “Okay well what about that man Jake saw?”

The brunette shook her head, “He must’ve made that up.”

One thing wasn’t making sense to Casey, “But Jake O’Hara picked Billy out of a lineup, how could he possibly have known Billy was a pedophile.”

Elliot knew in his gut she had a point, “I don’t know.”

“Alright,” the ADA strategized, “well let’s not hard ball the kid till we get some answers. We can’t afford to make the same mistake twice.”

“I thought my son answered all your questions?” Mrs. O’Hara asked as she sat back down at the table in interrogation.

“We just have to follow up on a few things,” Liv stated as her and Elliot sat down across from the suspect and his mother.

“Jake this man you picked out of the lineup,” Elliot said as he folded his hands on the table, “He didn’t do it.”

“Told you I wasn’t sure,” Jake said sounding disappointed. His mother rubbed his back.

“It’s okay honey, you did your best.” She said to him reassuringly.

“I guess it was number two after all,” the young teenager said woefully.

“No Jake,” Benson interrupted, “number two was an off-duty cop.”

Jake’s voice full of feigned remorse, “I’m sorry,” he sighed, “they all looked alike with those sunglasses. I only saw the picture for a minute.”

“You never saw the man, did you?” Elliot questioned.

Jake immediately started to try to back pedal, “Well I did but I told that other officer I didn’t think I’d be able to recognize him again.”

Elliot stormed out of the room, realizing the detective Jake was referring to was Wolinsky, their neighborhood watch pain in the ass. He grabbed him by the collar and began berating him for getting the kid to make a false testimony before throwing him in the lockup. He walked back into interrogation closing the door behind him.

“I don’t understand,” Mrs. O’Hara said getting agitated, “What’s going on?”

“What’s going on,” Elliot barked, “Is that Jake identified a man he never saw. You made it all up didn’t you Jake?”

“I’m sure it was a misunderstanding.” His mother protested.

“Well, there’s a few other things we don’t understand.” Liv said, “Like why Henry was covered up in cat hair.”

“Or how these stones from your yard,” Elliot placed the evidence baggie on the table, “ended up in his throat.”

Jake tried coming up with answers to all of this as the detectives pressed him but soon burst into a fit of tears when Liv threatened him with the notion of matching fingerprints. He was begging his mom not to send him back to camp, claiming that what happened to Henry was indeed an accident. Mrs. O’Hara explained that Jake had been sent to a camp for troubled youth. He showed them his arms, full of cigarette burns.

“Mrs. O’Hara,” Liv said softly, “We still need to place Jake under arrest.”

*****

“So, he said the kids at the camp tortured him?” Casey stuck her chopsticks into Liv’s takeout container grabbing for a piece of broccoli and popping it in her mouth.

“You know, we could just order a larger order of chicken broccoli and ya know split it? But yeah, he broke down into tears and told us how they sodomized him and burned him with cigarettes. It was horrifying.”

“That’s awful! I’ll talk to Huang and see what he knows about the place. Did you guys talk to the vic’s father about this yet? Also, while yes, it would be more efficient to share but its more fun to watch you squirm when I steal yours.” The redhead giggled trying to poke her chopsticks back into the container much to her girlfriends protest.

Liv brought her arm back to play keep away, taunting Casey keeping the container just out of arms reach. “Come on Counselor, where’s that athletic agility?” the chuckled. At this point, the litigator was not even focused on the container and only on the brunette’s lips as they parted in a jesting smile. She leaned in and kissed them, reaching behind her to toss the chopsticks onto the table behind her. Her girlfriend followed suite with the takeout.

“Is the door locked?” Casey panted, her hands fumbling with the buttons on Liv’s shirt. She didn’t actually wait for an answer before sliding a hand under the brunettes bra, caressing her breast.

Liv reached behind her, double checked the lock, and shook her head yes. She brought her wrist up between them, “I have about thirty minutes left.”

Casey let out a sultry laugh, “I can do a lot to you in thirty minutes, Detective.” She smirked and bit her lover’s lip, pulling it towards her as she straddled the brunette.

“Oh yeah Counselor, should I set a timer?” Liv whispered as she pulled the redhead tight to her body, their kisses were messy, heated, and filled with need. She wrapped her arm around the small of Casey’s back, picking her up as she stood up and flipping her back down onto the couch underneath her.

The ADA fervently grabbed at the detectives zipper, “Baby, if you think I can’t top you from down here you are sorely mistaken.” She panted as she continued kissing and slid her fingers down into the brunette’s waistband.

Liv’s breath caught in her throat as she let out a little sigh of pleasure at her girlfriend’s touch. She leaned her body hard down against Casey, rolling her hips as the redhead’s hand continued to tease her. Casey began fingering her slowly and was just about to further her exploration of Liv’s body when she heard the door handle start to jiggle.

“Hey, hey Casey? I think you door might be jammed, seems like its stuck.” Elliot called out from the hall, “You want me to throw my shoulder into it?”

Casey let out a heavy frustrated sigh, “It’s locked Elliot, for a reason.” She brought her hand up to her forehead.

“What’s wrong? Lionel Granger interrupted your lunch one too many times?” he joked, “C’mon Novak, you gonna let me in or what? I thought you were meeting Liv for lunch.”

“I’m a little preoccupied at the moment El.” The redhead said with mild annoyance.

“Huh? C’mon Case, open the door I’ve got a stack of five’s for you!” The detective stood outside, a confused look on his face, his impatience growing.

“We’re busy!” Both women shouted at the door in unison.

“OH,” Elliot froze, “umm okay, shit, my bad. Liv, I’ll just uhh, meet you at the car in twenty.” He made some vague hand motions as he shifted awkwardly from left to right a few times, not quite sure where to put himself and then headed back towards the squad room. As he headed back towards his desk John was headed down the hall with a pile of paperwork.

“You might want to try later,” the younger detective said still a little shell shocked.

“Hey El, why? Casey not in the office?” Munch stopped mid step.

“She’s,” he paused, “out to lunch.” Elliot headed back to his desk and stared at it in silence.

*****

Judge Preston adjourned the arraignment hearing as Casey gathered up her belongings for the day. Elliot and Dr. Morton were sitting in the front row of the gallery watching as Jake went through the arraignment process.

“Hey Casey,” Elliot whispered trying to grab the ADA’s attention. She turned to face him with a small smile, his face was solemn as she walked over. “This is Brett Morton, Henry’s father.”

Her face softened as she extended her hand to him in a firm handshake, “Very sorry.”

“Can I speak with Jake,” Dr. Morton asked somberly.

Casey turned towards opposing counsel, “Cleo? Can we have a moment please?”  The defense ushed Jake towards the prosecutor, Dr. Morton walking around the partition to greet him.

“Dr. Morton,” the young boy said, his eyes filled with tears. “I’m so sorry, Henry was my friend.”

Brett took a deep breath, “I know, Jake.” He sighed, “Why’d you do it?” The Doctor tilted his head down to get level with the boy. Casey watched the young boys body language from over Dr. Morton’s shoulder.

“I don’t know,” Jake sobbed, tears streamed down his face, “Something’s wrong with me.”

“Jake,” the victim’s father choked back a sob, “What did Henry say before he died?”

The tears fell freely down the child’s face, “He said he wanted his mommy.”

Casey could feel there was a tension escalating and nodded to the court officer to lead the young boy and his attorney away.

Dr. Morton turned around to face her, “What’s going to happen to him?”

“Without a plea bargain, he’ll stand trial and go to prison.” She said calmly, assuring the man that justice would be done.”

“Ah,” he nodded, “he’s a juvenile. He’ll be out at eighteen.”

Elliot and Casey looked towards each other concerned, “Dr. Morton,” her voice was soft but steady, “we’re trying Jake as an adult.”

The doctor’s face contorted in shock. “No. I lost a child and I know one thing. It’s wrong to lose another child to a life in prison.”

Elliot spoke quietly, “As a parent I can’t imagine what you’re going through.”

“Putting Jake in jail doesn’t mean I’m getting justice.” The man shot back.

“And putting him in that camp doesn’t mean you’re responsible for what he did.” The detective retorted, his eyes showing empathy for the victim’s father.

*****

Huang met Casey outside the courtroom, he could always tell when she needed a friend to lend an ear about a case.

“Maybe I am wrong,” she said waving her hand as she spoke. She was truly torn about how to go about prosecuting this.

George turned his palm up as he answered as if weighing the options in his hand, “Dr. Morton is caught between his anger and his guilt.”

“What, just because he recommended that camp?” The lilt in the redheads voice made it clear she found that hard to digest.

“He feels responsible. He feels that if Jake hadn’t been abused there, Jake wouldn’t have killed Henry.” Huang reasoned.

“What do you think?” She looked to him for guidance.

“Jake suffered there. He was burned. He was possibly raped.” He stated.

Casey interjected, “Yeah but lots of kids are traumatized. They don’t go out and kill other kids. I mean every time they shoot up a school we say it was because they were bullied.”

George softened his voice, “Sometimes they were, and the question is whether that’s the reason Jake killed Henry.”

“Alright well what do you know about this camp?” she questioned.

“Rhinebeck Survival. No incidents that I’ve heard of.” The FBI liaison stated, racking his brain.  

“That you’ve heard of.” Casey emphasized.

George smiled, “I’m sure the director will talk to us. Feel like taking a ride upstate?”

*****

“So,” George smirked looking over at Casey as she drove, one hand on the wheel, left foot up on the seat, sunglasses covering her eyes.

“So?” she responded cautiously, lowering the radio.

“Now that we are not surrounded by the entire squad and its just us,” he smiled like he was up to no good, “How are things with Olivia.” He made sure to over annunciate the syllables of her name in a teasing manner.

The redhead immediately blushed and couldn’t help but smile at the mention of her girlfriend. “Very well, thank you.”

“So, it’s pretty serious?” He inquired, “I promise I’m not psychoanalyzing, I’m strictly asking as a friend.”

“I’d like to think so?” Casey chuckled, “I think at this point I’ve almost told her I love her about a thousand times. So yeah pretty serious.” She took a sip of her coffee and put it back in the cup holder.

“Why have you stopped yourself,” Huang probed.

“Okay, now you’re psychoanalyzing.” She jested.

“Maybe a little,” he laughed, “but really, why?”

The redhead shrugged, “Afraid, I guess? That she won’t say it back, or worse that she will and won’t mean it, or worse even still that she will and will mean it and then something happens to her.”

“That,” George took a deep breath and tried to unpack that statement, “is a lot of overthinking Casey.” He chortled.

“Well, she hasn’t said it either,” she tried to rationalize her thinking. “So, what am I supposed to think?”

“That maybe she’s just as scared as you are?” He offered consolingly.

The ADA sighed, “You’re right. I mean something to her, I know that much.” She took her free hand and pulled the chain out from her shirt, “She gave me this today.” She blushed again.

“Wow,” George said taken aback by the grand gesture, “You know, Casey. Even though neither of you have said it with words. I think you’ve already said it to each other in a million separate ways without even realizing it.” He grabbed his friends hand for a second and squeezed.

“You might be on to something there, sir.” She smiled as she pulled into the camp’s driveway. “Ready?” She raised her eyebrow as she took her sunglasses off, placing them in the center console as she stepped out of the vehicle.

*****

Upon their arrival back at the DA’s office, after a day of fact finding. Huang and Casey  tried to petition Judge Donnelly with the information they had been provided between the camps director and its other attendees.

“Jake O’Hara burned himself?” Judge Donnelly said in disbelief.

George nodded, “The camp’s director tried to explain to his mother that he should be institutionalized. She didn’t believe him, she threatened a lawsuit and then she took Jake home.” He said exacerbated.

Casey continued, “He was thrown out of two private schools in Brooklyn for violent behavior and arson. His mom had to move him to Riverdale.”

“The kids a sociopath!” George interjected.

“He’s only 13.” Liz said, having trouble believing what she was hearing.

The psychiatrist huffed, “Well, he has all the classic symptoms. He’s glib, he lies, he has no remorse, no empathy. He’s narcissistic and he’s extremely manipulative. He fooled both of us.”

Casey leaned against the bookshelf, “Even Brett Morton and he’s a psychiatrist. He lives right next door. He never saw how devious Jake really is.”

“If the boy is mentally ill, we’ll send him to a hospital.” Donnelly shot back nonchalant.

“Sociopathy is a personality disorder, a lot of shrinks believe there is no cure.” George spoke calmly, hoping Liz would see what he and Casey were trying to convey.

“What do you think?” Liz queried.

Huang sighed, “You can’t grow a conscience.”

“Jake knew what he was doing was wrong and didn’t care. It’s the right decision to try him as an adult.” Casey dug her heels in.

Donnelly shook her head, “It’s too late, Dr. Morton came to see me this morning. He begged me to send Jake to Family Court. So, I moved it. The case is being heard right now.”  

Casey flew into the Family Court room as the Judge was starting to adjourn, “I’m very sorry to interrupt, Your Honor, but we’ve made a mistake.

The Judge tilted her head, “That’s refreshing. I don’t often hear that in my courtroom.”

Elliot, who was sitting in the gallery with Dr. Morton watched Casey intensely.

“The District Attorney’s office has reconsidered our decision to try Jake O’Hara in Family Court. We request that the case be moved to Supreme Court for trial as an adult.” She pontificated.

The Judge shook her head, “Hearings have begun. Jeopardy has attached. If I dismiss now, the case is over.”

“These are highly unusual circumstances,” Casey plead her case, “Jake O’Hara lied about his abuse. All of his injuries are self-inflicted” She pressed.

Dr. Morton flinched, “What are you saying?”

“Dr. Morton!” the Judge scolded.

“We interviewed witnesses at the camp! They all told us Jake burned himself.” The fiery prosecutor was making sure to stress the issue at hand as she spoke.

The victim’s father stared at Jake, his mouth hung open in shock. “I believed you.” He stammered and stood up from his seated position in the gallery. “I fought for you!”

“Dr. Morton, sit down!” the Judge ordered.

Elliot stood up in an attempt to calm the doctor and escort him from the court room.

“You lying little bastard!” the man shouted.

The judge banged the gavel down, “The court officer will remove Dr. Morton from this courtroom.

Both Elliot and the court officer tried to get a hold of Brett Morton and calm him down as he continued shouting, “You little prick! You should rot in hell.”

Jake O’Hara smirked back up at him from the defense table. \

“Lets go before she locks you up!” Elliot warned.

“You bet I will!” The Judge raised her voice sternly.

“Monster!” Brett shouted, breaking down in tears as he was led out of the courtroom, “You murdered my son!” He began to hyperventilate, “I can’t breathe!” He turned towards Elliot, “Do you understand? Jake will get out when he’s eighteen. He’s a sociopath! He will kill again! And again! And again!” he said through gritted teeth.

Just then Jake O’Hara walked past with his mother guiding him by the shoulder. He stopped in front of Morton and Elliot. “I’m sorry for what happened, sir.” He stated blankly with fake remorse. “I really am.” A smile crept across his face.

“You’re not sorry! You don’t know what sorry means, you have no feelings!” Brett Morton shouted as Jake continued to walk backwards, facing him, and taunting him.

Jakes mother shouted over her shoulder, “Leave my son alone.”

Within a split second Dr. Morton had grabbed the court officers gun and pushed the man at Elliot to keep him from seizing him, raised the gun and shot Jake directly in the chest.

Casey came around the corner just as the gun went off and the child fell to the ground. She flew across the vestibule and kneeled down next to Jake, tossed her briefcase to the side, and immediately began to apply pressure to the gunshot wound. She looked up in horror as Elliot managed to subdue Dr. Morton and knock the gun away from him. “Somebody call a bus!” She shouted. She grabbed the boys mother’s hands and pushed them down on the wound, “Keep pressure.” She switched positions and began to administer CPR.

Elliot’s face was one of complete shock as to the events. It all happened so fast. He watched as Casey pounded on the boys chest, blood seeping out around the mothers hand over the wound, Dr. Morton on the ground next to him in cuffs.  

*****

“I knew the guy was wound too tight,” Elliot pondered watching Brett through the one way glass of the interrogation room. “Should’ve seen it coming.”

“You didn’t know Morton would shoot him, we all thought Jake was a victim.” Cragen offered empathetically.

“Kid snowed everyone.” Elliot said quietly almost whispering to himself.

The door opened and Liv stood in the doorway, “Elliot.”

“Jake’s dead.” He stated before turning around, he already knew why she was there.

“He never made it out of surgery,” she sighed, tilting her head to the side. Elliot pushed passed her and walked out. She turned to follow him.

“Olivia,” Cragen called out, she turned to face him. “Don’t.” he shook his head. “But have you checked on Casey?”

*****

The lights were all off in Casey’s office as Liv rapped lightly and opened the door, “Case?” she called out softly into the darkness.

“Hey,” she rasped from the general direction of the sofa, “I’m over here.”

The brunette walked quietly over, “You okay?”

Casey had her head leaned back against the cushions with her hand pressing an icepack over her forehead.

“Baby did you get hit? At the courthouse today?” Liv sat down on the couch, she ran her fingers down the side of her girlfriend’s face.

A small smile crept up the corner of Casey’s mouth as she felt the brunette’s caress. “No beautiful, just a bad migraine.” She took her free hand and felt around for her girlfriend and placed her hand on her leg.

“Why don’t you let me do that for a few minutes?” the detective whispered continuing to stroke the redhead’s face.

Casey shifted her weight and laid her head in the brunettes lap, her legs crossed at the ankles propped up on the arm of the couch. Liv gently took the ice pack and placed it on the coffee table and calmly began to rub the counselor’s temples, pressing her fingers down along her jawline. The counselor let out a soft groan as she felt the tension release from her face.

“How’s Elliot?” she asked, her eyes still closed. “Morton just threw that guy in front of us, he couldn’t have grabbed the gun if he wanted.”

“He’ll be okay Casey. El just deals with things in his own way.” Liv continued to massage, running the pads of her thumbs over the redheads cheekbones and sinuses.

“What about Jake?”

Liv took a deep breath, “Case, he died in surgery.” She could feel the warm tears falling from the corners of Casey’s eyes onto her hands. “Shh baby, don’t cry you’re gonna make your migraine worse.”

“Liv, I—”

“Shh, I know.” She leaned down and kissed the top of her girlfriends head. “I know.”

*****

Liz Donnelly stepped off the elevator and charged towards the squad room. Casey begrudgingly following on her coat tails. “How could let this happen,” she shouted walking straight up to Elliot.

“You got some nerve lady,” he growled angrily at her. “That kid was killed because you sent him to Family Court.

Donnelly curled her lip, “I didn’t stand there and watch Brett Morton grab a gun.” She sniped.

Elliot took another step towards her. “You sure as hell put it in his hand. What, you didn’t want to say no to a grieving father? You afraid the press would call you a cold hearted bitch?” he quipped.

Casey stepped in between them before they could tear each other’s heads off. “If you two wanna blame each other, go ahead.” Her tone was calm and serious. “But I have a job to do. Now, what’s our decision on Dr. Morton?” As she spoke neither Elliot nor Liz let their gaze deviate, eyes locked, shooting daggers.

“Charge him,” Liz muttered, “Murder two.” Her stare was still confined to Elliot.

He clenched his jaw, bucking at the judge, “His son was killed by a psychopath who was gonna walk.”

“And that gives him the right to kill a kid? I want him arraigned by tomorrow morning.” She finally pulled away and shot Casey a look that she meant business and if the ADA didn’t follow through it would be her ass. The then turned on her heel and stormed off.

Elliot turned towards his friend, “Just gonna cover her ass? Just sweep it all under the carpet?” he grumbled.

She stepped in front of him as he tried to walk away, “My job is not to protect my boss.” She asserted.

“Then do the right thing,” he snapped, “You saw Morton. The guy was out of his mind. It’s not Murder Two, its manslaughter.” He then followed Donnelly’s lead and stormed off.

Casey could feel her eyes welling up as he walked off. She didn’t want to be in this position at all but here she was, stuck. She could feel the sick heat of anxiety rising up her throat and rushed off to the closest ladies room. The redhead splashed cold water on her face and then leaned over the sink, pressing her palms down on the cold white ceramic basic. Tears fell from her eyes as she tried to compose herself, but she couldn’t stop the shaking. The door creaked open, and she turned her head to see Liv standing there, arms folded.

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this,” she tried to laugh and only ended up choking back a sob.

Liv’s face softened and she stepped forward pulling Casey to her and holding her close. She kissed the top of the counselor’s head. “You are way stronger than you give yourself credit for, Case. You can do this.” She pulled back to look into her girlfriends hazel eyes. She kissed her delicately.

*****

Morton stood up as Casey walked into interrogation. “How’s Jake?” he questioned trying to seem concerned.

Casey did her best not to roll her eyes, “He died in surgery.”

“What have I done?” He sat down, shook his head, and stared off into the distance.

His attorney, Zeirko, did his best to calm him down, “You were out of control Brett you didn’t know what you were doing. If this isn’t “extreme emotional disturbance,” I don’t know what it is.” he said softly.

“So, you’re going for an affirmative defense.” Casey said pointedly, “What do you want?”

“Man Two, minimum time” Zeirko stated firmly.

“I have a better idea,” Casey scoffed, “Why don’t we just throw him a parade?”

“I don’t like your tone.” Zeirko sneered.

“And I don’t like 13 year olds being shot to death in the courthouse.” Casey clapped back.

Morton looked up from the table, “You think I meant to do it?”

“You grabbed a court officers gun and pulled the trigger.” Casey turned towards Morton and stated point blank, she wasn’t pulling any punches.

 “I don’t remember any of it, I just snapped.” Morton stammered.

“Well, that’s convenient.” The sarcasm dripped from the prosecutor’s voice through gritted teeth.

“No that’s “extreme emotional disturbance.” The defense protested.

“Well, you’ll have to excuse me if I don’t take your clients word for it.” The redhead scoffed.

“Fine. Have your psychiatrist examine him.” Zeirko offered.

*****

Casey walked out of the courthouse with the intentions of grabbing another coffee before the recess ended, she tensed as she heard Elliot’s voice snarking at her.

“You really went after Morton in there.” He said with contempt.

“He killed a kid he knew what he was doing,” she retorted as she turned and walked towards him.

“You’re so sure about that because of something he wrote 15 years ago?” he questioned argumentatively.

“Elliot, he’s screwing with us! This grief-crazed father crap—It’s all an act.” The redhead said with frustration. Why was it so easy for Elliot to believe this guy? This was clearly a ruse to get away with murder in her eyes.

“I spend my life locking up skells for murdering children. The system says they go away to prison. Fine. But if it were my son lying on that slab, I don’t know what my rage would make me do.” The detective sighed.

Casey opened her mouth to reply but was interrupted by a voice from behind them.

“Detective Stabler?” A woman called out.

“Yeah?” Elliot responded, he looked over Casey’s shoulder to see who had spoken.

“You’re served.” The woman said flatly and handed Elliot a plain envelope.

“Subpoena.” He said disparagingly. “Zeirko’s calling me to testify for the defense.”

*****

Even with the mountain of evidence on the prosecution side, the skillful cross examination delivered by Casey and the fact that Dr. Morton had all but outright admitted what he did, the jury still came back with a verdict of “not guilty.” The ADA couldn’t help but wear her disappointment on her face as she exited the courtroom.

“I didn’t think they’d acquit him.” Elliot offered consolingly.

Casey nodded, “Well, this trial wasn’t about Brett Morton or “extreme emotional disturbance” or even your testimony. Jurors didn’t want Jake O’Hara running loose and Brett solved that problem.” She reasoned.

“We can’t treat these kids, so we kill em?” Elliot asked incredulously.

The redhead stuttered, “I don’t have the answers, I don’t think anyone does. Maybe that’s why they acquitted.”

Dr. Morton called out from behind them as he came down the front steps of the courthouse, “Ms. Novak,” he said garnering for her attention, “Ms. Novak.”

Casey and Elliot turned to face the newly free man, “You seem pretty satisfied.”

“I am.” Morton answered, straight faced.

“Well, you got away with it.” The young prosecutor said with disdain.

“Oh, I suppose I did.” There was barely any inflection to Brett’s voice.

Elliot tilted his head, “Tell me one thing, when did you decide to kill Jake?” he questioned.

“In the courtroom, once I knew what he was. You were right” the doctor turned to look at Casey, “I looked around, saw the officer, realized I could take the gun. I just waited for the right moment.”

Elliot shook his head, “You manipulated us just like Jake did.”

Morton shook his head, “No, there’s one big difference, Jake would’ve killed again. I won’t.” He shrugged his shoulders and left the pair by themselves.

They turned towards the street. “Hey, I’m going meet Liv at McFadden’s, do you want to come with?” Casey asked, she and Elliot had their own way of apologizing to each other in true sibling fashion. Their apologies were always unspoken coded in a trip to the bar or for a slice of pizza, a teasing joke, and a rib nudge.

“Love to, but I got to get home or Kathy’s gonna have my ass on the couch.” He gave her a pat on the arm and headed off in the opposite direction.

She nodded and threw up her hand to hail a cab, she could’ve caught the train, but she missed Liv and wanted to get to her faster. She watched out the window as the cab went up to midtown, mulling over everything that had transpired in court today. The redhead pondered what made people tick, what made one person a sociopath, one person a hothead, a kind empathetic soul, or her afraid to tell the one person who has meant more to her than any other that she loves them. She shook the thoughts loose, pushed them down as the cab pulled up at the bar. “One day at a time Novak.”  

The ADA opened the door to the bar to find her girlfriend already waiting for her. Olivia’s eyes lit up as Casey walked in, her stomach still did flips every time she laid eyes on the red head.

“Hey beautiful,” she said as the ADA moved closer and sat down on the stool next to her.

“Hey yourself, Detective.” She smirked as Liv handed her a whiskey sour.

“Heard you had a tough loss, figured I’d have this ready.” She ran her fingers up Casey’s thigh, sending a shiver through her body. The redhead grabbed it with her left hand and held it in place as Liv reached the top of her thigh and downed the drink with her right hand.

“Have anything else ready for me?” She quirked her brow and put the glass back down on the bar.

Liv raised her eyebrows in response and squeezed down on her girlfriends leg, “Bathroom?” she subtly nodded her head towards the door at the back of the bar.

Casey got up and walked that direction, the brunette waited about sixty seconds and then followed her. She tapped lightly on the door to the single person bathroom to immediately be pulled in. The redhead locked the door and then roughly pushed her up against the wall, kissing her fiercely. “I have been fantasizing about your lips all day, Detective.” Her lips curled into a smile as she unzipped Liv’s pants, her teeth grazed the other woman’s neck as her hand made slow, deliberate circles around the brunette’s clit.

Liv bit down on her own lip trying to stifle her moans. “Counselor,” she panted, “here? What if someone needs to get in here?”

“They can wait,” Casey moaned into her neck, “I can’t.” She ran her tongue over Liv’s pulse point and slid her hand further into the brunette’s slick and began to penetrate her.

“Casey,” the detective moaned into her lover’s ear, trying not to be too loud. She wrapped her leg around her lover, holding tight to the back of her neck with her hands.

“That’s my good girl,” the redhead mewled into Liv’s neck, “keep making those pretty noises for me.”

“Daddy,” the brunette’s breath hitched as she whimpered.

“Mmm what was that baby? Who’s your Daddy?”

“You are, Casey, you are.” Liv could barely breathe, “Casey I’m gonna—” before she could finish she could feel herself tighten and convulse around the ADA’s fingers, her liquids dripping down to the redhead’s wrist. She couldn’t do anything except sputter her lover’s name over and over again.

Casey continued to massage her sensitive spot gently before pulling away. Liv whined, feeling empty now. “I promise,” the fiery prosecutor kissed her. “When we get home baby I’m going to take very good care of all your needs.”

“As long as you let me take care of yours too,” Liv whispered still trying to catch her breath.

“Oh, that’s a plea deal I’d cop to any day, Detective.” She smirked against the brunette’s full lips, “We should probably get back out there.” She kissed her again as she unlocked the door and headed back to the bar, her girlfriend following her after a reasonable pause.

Back at the bar they had ordered another round of drinks and appetizers by the time John Munch walked through the door.

“Okay, I’m here!” he threw his hands out to his sides, “bring on the secret boyfriends.” He clapped his hands and rubbed them together.

Casey shot Liv a look, “Oh boy, Fin is gonna upset he missed this.” She ribbed her and Liv nodded in agreement, both women holding back a chuckle.

Munch walked towards them, “Always lovely to see you ladies, but where are these mysterious gentlemen you’ve been hiding?”

“John,” the prosecutor chuckled, “They’re right here.” She was unable to contain the amusement she was getting from this.

Munch looked at her puzzled, “I don’t understand, do they work here or something.”

Liv looked at him, “May I introduce to you, ‘Secret Boyfriend Number One’,” she said pointing at herself, “and ‘Secret Boyfriend Number Two’.” She pointed to Casey who also pointed at herself.

John dropped his shoulders, “You mean you guys are just schtuping each other?”

“You almost sound disappointed, Munch.” Liv took a sip of her drink.

He chuckled, “Hardly, I just think it wasn’t worth all cloak and dagger.” He placed a hand on the side of each of their arms. “Mozeltov. Now what are we drinking?”

Read Part 9

[feministsouthpark]

South Park Filler Guide - Season 6

Link for Season 1  Link for Season 2 Link for Season 3 Link for Season 4 Link for Season 5

The classifications are CANON (an episode with major storylines present), LORE (in which we get significant backstory or world building, but could be skippable)  and FILLER (completely skippable episodic storytelling, not connected to overarching story arcs)

PLS my analysis will have spoilers, if you’re a first time viewer, just scroll to the bottom and read the list and only read full text if you are familiar with the content of the show already! No season has a clearer narrative structure than season 6, which is reflected both by my choice of images and the fact that almost none of them are considered to be filler. What might be new for some of you, is the correct order, since I listed this one in production order, so don't say "Jared has Aides" is the season premiere, because it isn't. "Freak Strike" is the season premiere, and I'll ask you to follow this order if you're a first-time viewer. S6E1 Freak Strike is CANON

Because the first scene exists to remind viewers of S5E13 and its long-term consequences with a trick reveal. If you watched it in TV and saw another episode as the season premiere, you missed out on this joke. The episode otherwise cements Butters' place in the group. S6E2 Jared has Aides is CANON

Some of what the boys do to Butters has to be canon, since his later villain arc is based on his experiences of being bullied by his "friends". S6E3 Asspen is CANON

The Stotch's get really friendly with the Marshes and the Broflovskis, which bonds will stay alive and sometimes Butters gets included because of this, even after he is ceremoniously kicked out of the friend group. S6E4 The Terrance and Phillip Movie Trailer is LORE

More bullying Butters shenanigans. Butters will mention events from this one and the next one, and in-series they add to his breaking point, but these two episodes can be omitted if we're looking at this list rationally. S6E5 Fun with Veal is LORE

This whole arc is really a journey of self-discovery for the boys, however this one is not for the long-term consequences. S6E6 Professor Chaos is CANON

They had it with Butters and Butters had it with them. Diane dies, Tweek gets into the group, Butters gets a new persona. S6E7 The Simpsons Already Did It is CANON

Basically every arc from Professor Chaos continues. S6E8 Red Hot Chatolic Love is LORE

I really hate to say it, because this episode is really fun, but other than giving Tweek the same amount of screen presence as Butters, this is pretty much a nonexistent thread in an already jam-packed season. But it shows how much they care about the idea of replacing Butters with Tweek. S6E9 Free Hat is LORE

Again, it's one of those episodes that show the boys' commitment to the fourth friend replacement bit. S6E10 Bebe's Boobs Destroy Society is LORE

Again, even further commitment to the bit. S6E11 Child Abduction is Not Funny is CANON

This is the last main Tweek episode, and we have to include AT LEAST one. And this one features both Randy's emergence and a plot with an intruiging side character, Dr. Janus. S6E12 A Ladder to Heaven is CANON

Another major change happens, when Eric drinks Kenny's ashes and his soul. This is a big part of the Kenny rebirth storyline. S6E13 The Return of the Fellowship of the Ring to the Two Towers is LORE

This one doesn't make sense without the context (Kenny's soul in Eric's body) but doesn't provide further context, except that the costumes will be reused later. S6E14 The Death Camp of Tolerance is CANON

Herbert Garrison's triumphant return as the fourth grade teacher is finally here! Also an interesting bit is both Tweek and Butters being present in the episode's beginning, but only Butters stays relevant to the story. S6E15 The Biggest Douche in the Universe is CANON

Kenny's spirit moves on from Eric to Rob Schneider and then dies again. Big events. S6E16 My Future Self n' Me is CANON

Stan learns about Professor Chaos, we see the first glimpses into Eric's possible future and not plot-related, but we have to give props for this episode incorporating the first sighting of Craig's gang! S6E17 Red Sleigh Down is CANON

Kyle helps Eric, while Kyle 2 helps Mr. Hankey. Jesus sacrifices himself and Kenny is resurrected in his place as a christmas miracle, finishing the season and the 'Kenny Dies' arc.

SPOILER-FREE RUNDOWN

Again, CANON means you should watch it, any episode with the LORE label will have an explanation that helps you decide if you should include it or not. S6E1 Freak Strike is CANON S6E2 Jared has Aides is CANON S6E3 Asspen is CANON S6E4 The Terrance and Phillip Movie Trailer is LORE* S6E5 Fun with Veal is LORE* S6E6 Professor Chaos is CANON S6E7 The Simpsons Already Did It is CANON S6E8 Red Hot Chatolic Love is LORE** S6E9 Free Hat is LORE** S6E10 Bebe's Boobs Destroy Society is LORE** S6E11 Child Abduction is Not Funny is CANON S6E12 A Ladder to Heaven is CANON S6E13 The Return of the Fellowship of the Ring to the Two Towers is LORE*** S6E14 The Death Camp of Tolerance is CANON S6E15 The Biggest Douche in the Universe is CANON S6E16 My Future Self n' Me is CANON S6E17 Red Sleigh Down is CANON *If you need more context of Butters being the fourth friend **If you need more content of Tweek being the fourth friend ***If you need more content of Eric sharing his body with Kenny

CANON counter:

S1: 9 out of 13 S2: 3 out of 18 S3: 6 out of 18 S4: 10 out of 17 S5: 8 out of 14 S6: 11 out of 17 Overall: 47 out of 97 Personal notes: My favorite season ever, I'd honestly recommend watching it all without any episode skipped, the whole thing carries on so nicely. Possibly the most plot-heavy season out of the first 18 seasons anyway.

[firephoenix2305]

This is a Rory Williams appreciation post

Because I have recently finished season 6 and I need to shout about it to someone.

(Disclaimer: Severe season 5 and 6 spoilers ahead. If you haven't watched them yet, run away very very fast. Or don't, it's up to you. But you have been warned)

Okay, don't get me wrong. I love Amy, she's great. And I love The Doctor, because well, he's The Doctor, and also Matt Smith, so he's great too.

But.

But. But. But

If I had to pick a favorite...

Rory. Fucking.Arthur. Williams.

I don't even know where to start with this man.

The way he loves Amy. The way he cares about her more than the entire goddamn universe. The way he DOES NOT BUDGE from her side even when she kisses another man the night before their wedding, then proceeds to severely third-wheel him in a very Mickey Smith sort of way for the better part of two episodes (which in retrospect isn't really that much, but STILL) and takes her sweet time to realize she is in love with him.

We are talking, ladies and gentlemen, about the Last goddamn Centurion. This is a man who willingly lived through every single second of 2000 years of human history only to protect Amy Pond. 2000 years without so much as a wink of sleep, or rest, or any synonym of the word. How does this man's heart not physically burst from the sheer amount of love he has for Amy?!?!

I just...I want one. I want a Rory. Does anybody know where I can find a Rory? Pretty please?

And another thing. I'm not sure what it was that Rory did to the writers of this show but JESUS CHRIST. Why so much hate?

And just to prove I'm not even exaggerating, here's a brief summary of some of the things which have happened to this poor guy in seasons 5 and 6. (From the point where he officially joins Amy and The Doctor in the TARDIS onwards, that is)

- S5E7. Killed by the Eknodine in the Dream Lord's fake reality. (And given that horrible ponytail, btw)

- S5E9. Murdered in cold blood by a rogue Silurian, then absorbed by a time crack and hence deleted from the memory of the entire universe. (Being murdered obviously wasn't enough, no)

- S5E13. This is a big one. Revived as an Auton, realized Amy doesn't remember him, then when Amy finally does remember he unwillingly kills her because of his programming (which he eventually breaks free from), stays with the Pandorica for 2000 odd years and finally, after all of that, gets erased from reality. Again. (But it's okay because The Doctor has rebooted the universe, so real Rory came back. Or, rather, never left in the first place. Doctor Who is complicated, okay?!)

- S6E3. To start off the season well, he drowns and practically dies, and is then transferred to a spaceship healing facility where he is essentially hooked to a live support system until Amy brings him back to life.

- S6E4. Tortured and "killed" by the thing controlling the TARDIS, who had a blast warping time and making him go crazy and ultimately making him die of old age. (Not sure if it even counts as a death, but his rotting skeleton was there, so I'm counting it)

- S6E6. Finds out that his wife is not actually his wife but is instead a bunch of sentient flesh which is pretending to be his wife; and that his actual wife is nine months pregnant and currently giving birth to their daughter God knows where. (I did say it was complicated).

- S6E7. Finds Amy and baby Melody, only to lose Melody to the creepy eye patch lady because having lost Amy in the exact same way the previous episode clearly wasn't enough torture for him.

- S6E10. Has "other" Amy (the older version) absolutely hate his guts for something which isn't his fault at all, and has to re-convince her that she loves him. Again. (Seriously, Amy?). Then, he has to sacrifice the other Amy to save his Amy, which was extremely painful for him. (Man, this season gets weirder and weirder, doesn't it?)

- S6E13. Suffers inhumane amounts of pain and almost dies (again) when he lets himself be electrocuted by the eye patch thingy to give Amy, River and The Doctor time to escape. (I know this wasn't technically the same Rory that went through all those other things, but I decided to include it anyway)

AND I HAVEN'T EVEN STARTED SEASON 7 YET. Give the man a break! And stop killing him, for God's sake!

(I know this won't happen, because although I haven't watched S7 I accidentally spoiled the whole weeping angel business to myself, so yeah)

And lastly, this scene >>>

Do. Not. Fuck. With the roman.

I just love him.

That is all. Thanks for hearing me out, I feel better.

(@capinejghafa was the furthest back I could track these gifs, but I don't know if they were the one who made them).

[arbor-tristis]

S6e6 and it's the episode where a guy invents a fake mustard gas bomb to evacuated the whole fucking city just to save his fiancée from getting the death penalty........ladies if he wanted to he would

[minamorsart]

Happy holidays to you 🎄🎁🌟❤️

*whispers* , who do you think deserves better

Lotor or Ben Solo/Kylo Ren

First of all: thank you so much! Happy Holidays to you, too!! I hope you are enjoying this holiday season with your loved ones 🎄🎀☃️💖

And second of all: NOOOO Anon how could you make me choose??! 😭😂😂

My gut reaction is to say both of them, but that's not really the answer we're looking for here, is it? Hehe. So I have tried to seriously consider this and provide a sincere answer to your question.

A quick heads up, I will be mentioning reylo and lotura here and there throughout this little essay!

The most fun part about comparing Ben and Lotor I think comes from the fact that these two are suuuuper similar to one another. I covered this a tiny bit in this ask where I talk about how protective the two of them are, but to reiterate:

Both Lotor and Ben are from sci-fi/fantasy franchises that were released around the same time, both have troubled relationships with their fathers, both are great swordsmen and pilots and engineers, both murdered their fathers, have complicated childhoods, rarely show their true faces to others, killed their dads, fell in love with fierce and powerful women, kissed said fierce and powerful women before shortly dying afterwards, said bye-bye to papa by doin a lil stabby stab, became intergalatic leaders of the most powerful empires in the universe -- oh, and did I mention daddy issues? You tend to find that a lot with long-haired emo boys from fiction. It's just the way it is. And for these two in particular you can also sprinkle in a little "mommy issues" just for funsies.

But in all seriousness, Lotor and Ben share a LOT in common, which is pretty crazy! So who deserves better, really? In order to make a fair judgment my first thought was to take into account their crimes and if they were able to redeem themselves in the end. But this is also fiction. As soon as people slap the label "toxic" on a character or ship, I usually tend to tune them out. This is by no means a hot take, but fiction is a form of escapism. It is a way for people to experience a thing (e.g. horror, adventure, romance) without actually having to experience it. So if we have a couple of sad boys who murder and manipulate people but also want to find love, who's gonna stop us from rooting for them? Absolutely no one!

I digress, but my point is that I usually don't care which character did what and why they're a bad person for it. But even then were Ben and Lotor really all that bad? After all, we learned from "The Rise of Kylo Ren" comics that Ben was ultimately not the one responsible for destroying Luke's Jedi school, and in TROS we found out that he was being manipulated by Palpatine the entire time.

For Lotor, we never really got a clear picture of what exactly he was doing with that Altean colony. To this day I still don't get it! In S6E6 he says, "Many Alteans perished in my quest to unlock the mysteries of quintessence." But then in S8E13 Allura says, "Lotor may have been misguided, but ultimately he wanted to preserve life." Like, what does any of that mean?? There are cracks in the armor, Anon! Cracks!!! Not to mention all of the theories with very convincing evidence that there were a ton of changes made to season 8, and unfortunately I don't think we're ever going to get a solid answer from the showrunners as to what was really supposed to happen.

In the end, the complicated and morally gray choices that Lotor and Ben made throughout their lives are what make their characters so interesting! They did the wrong things for what they believed to be the right reasons. If they didn't come across as the mysterious and devious fellas as they did when we first saw them, we wouldn't be such big fans of them. We would've chosen someone else 😉

So any bad deeds aside, maybe we oughta take a step back and do one last comparison. Most notably, comparing how they died. Ben died saving the person he loved, while Lotor died fighting the person he loved. I would have to argue that Lotor's death was far more gruesome and superfluous than Ben's. Not only did he go mad from all of the raw quintessence coursing through his body, but we find out in season 8 that his body had remained in his ship for three whole years, decayed and melted (seriously whose idea was it to share that imagery? I'm scarred for life) and left to sit there by his own mother.

Ben's passing was also deeply upsetting. I cried in the theater. But you can't deny that it was a peaceful one. From the way his body faded into nothingness, leaving beind only his clothes, the audience is able to assume that he became a Force Ghost (or did he? 🤔). He was battered and beaten, but he brought the woman he loved back to life, and in giving his life to her and helping her defeat Palpatine, he redeemed himself. And not only did he redeem himself, but he was also able to reconcile with both of his parents.

Lotor didn't get to do either of those things. He never got the chance. He was manipulated by both of his parents, and he never had the opportunity to redeem himself on his own terms. You know, for someone who directly influenced the entirety of season 8's plot, Lotor is hardly in it! I suppose he sort of redeemed himself, at least in Allura's eyes, but he was long gone by then. He wasn't around to see any of the stuff going on in season 8, stuff happening specifically FOR him because his mother wanted him back. In season 6 he went out like your average cartoon villain--dying because of his own hubris while the heroes looked on. In season 8 we only get: a flashback episode, him showing up in Allura's bedroom ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°), and him copied and pasted into the background as a ghost in the finale, almost like something is amiss in this scene (cracks in the armor, Anon!!!). UGH. You hate to see it.

But at the same time, I'm not too upset that Lotor died if I'm being completely honest with you. At least not anymore, anyway. Don't get me wrong, at the time I cried when his death was confirmed, and then I cried again when Allura died. But at least they get to be together in the afterlife. Ben had a lot going for him. He was only 30 years old when he died, and that's still very young. He could have had a long, happy life with Rey, and to truly redeem himself in the eyes of the resistance, could have devoted his time to restoring peace and order to the galaxy, as well as teach the new generation of Force-wielders alongside Rey.

Lotor, on the other hand, was 10,000 years old. The idea of having lived that long is not only unfathomable, but the fact that he probably spent most of that time being completely alone is just... really, really sad. If I were him I would have been ready to kick the bucket, too. I think the kindest thing to do for him at that point was to give him a peaceful, as well as justified, departure in the series finale. Allura had suffered as well. She had lost everything, just like him, so the two of them finding peace in the afterlife would be the most merciful conclusion, I believe.

Soooo I'm gonna cheat again with my answer 😂 Who deserves better? I would say BOTH of them deserve better, but in different ways. Ben Solo deserved to live, while Lotor deserved a better death.

Thank you so much for this question, Anon! I really had to think a lot about this one, and even though in the end I couldn't actually choose between the two, I still enjoyed coming up with this long-winded answer haha! If you have any further insights you would like to add, or if you even disagree with any of the things I've said, please don't hesitate to say so! I am always happy to discuss anything Ben or Lotor-related 😁 My love for these boys knows no bounds 💖

[charahandrex]

clips of Charah scenes from the latest episode of Hudson and Rex S6E6

[theshoresidemirages]

Mr Gein…

What’s with the axe?

For a reasonable price, from a trustworthy source. Perfect for felling.

---

John's axe was inspired directly from Lalo Salamanca's endeavors in S6E6 of Better Call Saul, "Axe and Grind". Sometimes, fear is a great motivator.