#ill try to be here periodically but man this year literally tried to take me out and the recovery has bee non-existent

[intcritus]

[james-joyces-right-eyeball]

Absolute Favorite Books I’d Recommend to Anyone

This is a list of my top-tier favorite books that I would recommend/talk about endlessly to pretty much anyone (in no particular order). I know people probably don’t care but I just like talking about books I love so here we are.

Beloved - Toni Morrison

~ Based off the real story of Margaret Garner, a slave woman who escaped slavery and when captured killed her child in order to prevent them from ever being enslaved again, Beloved tells the story of a mother named Sethe, born in slavery who eventually escaped and is haunted by the figurative demons of her trauma and the literal (arguably) ghost of her dead daughter, who she herself killed. It is an excellent exploration of the horrors of slavery and of the haunting legacy of the institution for those who were subjected to it.

Lolita - Vladimir Nabokov

~ If you’ve been on Tumblr for a while, you probably know what Lolita is. The story of the predatory Humbert Humbert who lusts after, rapes, and kidnaps the “nymphet” Dolores Haze. An excellent construction of how predators, unreliable narrators in their own right, hide behind fabrications, almost-believable excuses, and pretty words to make their actions seem maybe not so bad. In the words of the book itself, “You can always count on a murderer for a fancy prose style.”

Ulysses - James Joyce

~ Notoriously one of the most difficult books in the English language, Ulysses lifts its structure from Homer’s Odyssey to tell the story of a common man, Leopold Bloom, as he goes about his day. Yes, this book takes place over the course of only one day. We follow Bloom as well as Joyce’s literary counterpart Stephen Daedalus through their thoughts and actions, gathering details of their lives previous throughout. It’s a book that, in my own words, “is life”. It is sad, funny, strange, vulgar, disgusting, beautiful, revelatory, sensual, and nonsensical all at once. Joyce aimed to create a reflection of life through his stream-of-consciousness style which some people might find confusing, but I personally find absolutely beautiful and honest and realistic. The prose is also gorgeous, but that could be applied to everything Joyce wrote. 

Wuthering Heights - Emily Bronte

~ The classic gothic book that tells the tale of Heathcliff and his ultimately destructive love of Catherine Earnshaw, whose eventual marriage to someone else and the general mistreatment of him by her family drives Heathcliff insane and he spends the rest of his life trying to take revenge by abusing and torturing the next Earnshaw and Linton (the family into which Catherine marries) generations. If I’m being honest, I like this book mostly because of how wild and dark it is, but the writing is also genius and beautiful. I think the book also carries an interesting view of the destructive nature of revenge, overzealous love, and othering.

A Tree Grows in Brooklyn - Betty Smith

~ A coming-of-age story at the turn of the century that tells the story of Francie Nolan, a young bookish girl growing up in a lower class family in New York City. It tells about her father’s struggles with alcoholism as well as her mother’s struggles to deal with that and at the same time raise Francie and her brother. Francie is confronted with a strange, uncertain world as a young girl, but tries to face it with bravery throughout childhood

Little Women - Louisa May Alcott

~ Another coming-of-age story, this time about four young sisters: Meg, Jo, Beth and Amy March. You are probably familiar with this book already; it’s had more movie adaptations then I can possibly remember off the top of my head. It’s the story of four sisters as they try to navigate growing up, love, and loss during the mid to late 1800s.

The Color Purple - Alice Walker

~ A novel that tells the story of Celie, a young black woman who is raped and then married young to a man who will go on to use and abuse her, through her letters to God. Throughout the novel she meets Shug Avery, a woman with whom she eventually falls in love and begins a relationship with. Through this and her eventual freedom from her abusive husband, she is able to gain at last her own sense of self and take back control over her life, a life no longer ruled by the abusive men around her.

The Bluest Eye - Toni Morrison

~ The tragic story of young black girl Pecola Breedlove, who wants nothing more than to have blonde hair and blue eyes just like the women she sees in the movies. Both a deconstruction of the whiteness of beauty standards as well as how these standards can utterly destroy vulnerable young girls, it is also an exploration of the people who allow these sorts of things to happen, including Pecola’s mother and father. The Bluest Eye, I think, showcases one of the aspects of Toni Morrison that I like the most, that I aspire to the most: her ability to enter the minds of all people, even people who you might despise at first. Her characters, especially Cholly in The Bluest Eye, are ones you might not entirely sympathize with, but they will always be ones you understand.

The Bell Jar - Sylvia Plath

~ Based off of the author’s own experiences as a young college student, The Bell Jar tells the story of Esther Greenwood, whose depression over her place as a woman in a patriarchal society as well as her inability to choose a life path for herself leads to a suicide attempt and a subsequent stay in a mental hospital. A very nuanced portrayal of mental illness, especially anxiety and depression, The Bell Jar is an extremely moving and relatable story for me and clearly is as well for others. It is a classic for a reason.

I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings - Maya Angelou

~ A memoir of Angelou’s childhood, this book tells the story of her experiences living as a black girl in the south with her grandmother and brother as well as her later years living with her mother. It also tells of how she was raped by her mother’s boyfriend when she was around eight or nine, and how she struggled to live with that and find her voice, both literally and figuratively. A wonderful book about overcoming struggles and the power of words and literature in such times.

Invisible Man - Ralph Ellison

~ Ellison’s novel tells the story of a young black man, never getting a name in the text, and his feelings of invisibility and his struggles to find a place in society to belong. His struggles only lead him further into despair, until he decides to “become invisible” as people seem not to see him as a person anyway. Invisible Man is an exploration of American mid-century racism and the isolation it causes to those subjected to it. Not only that, but it is surprisingly relevant to our times now, especially on the subject of police violence. (Personal anecdote: When I first read this book, when I got to the aforementioned police violence part it was right in the middle of the BLM resurgence last summer and I cried for a good twenty minutes while reading that chapter over how nothing had changed and it still hurts me to think about it. Embarrassingly, my dad walked in on me while I was crying, and I had to quickly explain it away.)

A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man - James Joyce

~ The title basically says it all lol. This book tells of the coming-of-age of Stephen Daedalus (the same one from the later-written Ulysses). His sensitive childhood, his awkward and lustful adolescence, his feelings of Irish nationality and Catholic guilt, and his struggles to fully realize himself, both as an artist and a human being. It is a very hopeful story, and one that I love mostly because I relate so much to Stephen Daedalus as an artist and as a person.

One Hundred Years of Solitude - Gabriel Garcia Marquez

~ A magical-realist intergenerational family drama, Marquez’s book traces the various lives and loves of the Buendia family over the course of (you guessed it!) one hundred years. A beautifully written, at times extremely emotionally moving and chilling masterpiece, Marquez in a way retells the history of Colombia, of its colonization and exploitation.  

Anna Karenina - Leo Tolstoy

~ A classic Russian novel of society and love, Tolstoy tells the story of Anna Karenina, married, wealthy woman with a child she adores. However, she falls in love with another man, Count Vronsky, and comes to a tragic end for her love. The parallel story of the novel is that of Konstantin Levin, a wealthy landowner who also struggles to find fulfillment in his life and understand his place in society.

The Sound and the Fury - William Faulkner

~ A novel that features an entire family of unreliable narrators, The Sound and the Fury details the fall of a once-prominent southern Compson family and always-present place of the past. There are four different narratives: Benjy Compson, a mentally disabled man who is unsure of his surroundings and of time and only knows that he misses his older sister Caddy; Quintin Compson, the eldest son and a Harvard man both obsessed with his sister retaining her “purity” and the fact that she failed to do so and had a baby out of wedlock, going as far to claim it is his baby in an attempt to preserve something of the family reputation; Jason Compson, who is the caretaker of Caddy’s daughter and believes her to be going down her mother’s “sinful” path; and Dilsey, the black maid of the Compson’s who unlike the people she cares for is not weighed down by their history. The narratives take place in different time periods and is in a stream-of-consciousness style. It’s a deeply dark and disturbing novel about the haunting nature of the past, a common theme in Faulkner’s work (see Absalom, Absalom! for more of this).

Song of Solomon - Toni Morrison

~ It is the story of Milkman Dead, a young black man growing up in the south and his relationship with his very complicated family. To say anymore would be to spoil the novel, but I will say that it is an excellent book about family, self-fulfillment in a world that tries to deny you that, and, like The Bluest Eye, exhibits Morrison’s excellent character work.

Cat on a Hot Tin Roof - Tennessee Williams

~ A play which takes place on the patriarch of a family’s birthday in the oppressive heat of the midsummer south, Williams’ play explores lies, secrets, and how repression only results in anger, frustration, and sadness. It’s a tragic but brilliant play that I think was very ahead of its time. If you’ve read it (or do read it) then you know what I mean.

Giovanni’s Room - James Baldwin

~ This book tells the story of a young man and his love of another man named Giovanni while he is in Paris. It is a book about love, queer guilt, and has what I would call an ambiguous ending. There is uncertainty at the end, but there does seem to be some kind of acceptance. It is a bit of a coming-out story, but more than that it is a story of personal acceptance and at the same time a sad, tragic love story.

HERmione - H.D.

~ An underrated modernist masterpiece, HERmione is a somewhat fictionalized account of the author, Hilda Doolittle’s, experience as a young aspiring poet dating another poet (in real life Ezra Pound in this book named George Lowndes) who is a threat to her both physically and emotionally. It explores her own mental state, as she considers herself a failure and falls in love with a woman for the first time (Fayne Rabb in the book, Frances Gregg in real life). 

To the Lighthouse - Virginia Woolf

~ People think about going to a lighthouse. They do not. A couple years and a war passes then they do. That may seem like a boring plot, and you may be right. However, To the Lighthouse is not much about plot. It is more about the inner lives of its characters, a family and their friends, on two different occasions of their lives: one before WWI and one after WWI. Woolf explores in this novel the trauma that results from such a massive loss of life and security. Not only that, she also explores the nature of art (especially in female artists) in the character of Lily Briscoe and her struggles to complete a painting. It’s a short novel, but it contains so much about life, love, and loss within these few pages.

The Heart is a Lonely Hunter - Carson McCullers

~ A southern gothic novel about isolation and loneliness in a small town. Every character has something to separate them from wider society, and often find solace and companionship in a deaf man, John Singer, who himself experiences a loneliness that they cannot understand. There are various forms of social isolation explored in this novel: by race, disability, age, gender, etc. A wonderful, heart-wrenching book about loneliness and the depths it can potentially drag people to.

The Waste Land - T.S. Eliot

~ A modernist masterpiece of a poem, Eliot describes feeling emptiness and isolation. The brilliance of it can only be shown by an excerpt:

“Your arms full, and your hair wet, I could not Speak, and my eyes failed, I was neither Living nor dead, and I knew nothing, Looking into the heart of light, the silence.”

“The river’s tent is broken: the last fingers of leaf Clutch and sink into the wet bank. The wind Crosses the brown land, unheard. The nymphs are departed. Sweet Thames, run softly, till I end my song. The river bears no empty bottles, sandwich papers, Silk handkerchiefs, cardboard boxes, cigarette ends Or other testimony of summer nights. The nymphs are departed. And their friends, the loitering heirs of city directors; Departed, have left no addresses. By the waters of Leman I sat down and wept . . . Sweet Thames, run softly till I end my song, Sweet Thames, run softly, for I speak not loud or long. But at my back in a cold blast I hear The rattle of the bones, and chuckle spread from ear to ear. “

(My personal favorite line from this poem is, “I will show you fear in a handful of dust.”)

The Trial - Franz Kafka

~ The protagonist of the novel, Josef K., wakes up one morning to find that he has been placed under arrest for reasons that are kept from him. Kafka creates throughout the novel a scathing satire of bureaucracy, as K. tries to find out more about his case, more about his trial, but only becomes more confused as he digs deeper. There seems to be no rhyme or reason to the world he lives in, and the more tries to explain it the further the more that proves to be the case. An excellently constructed novel and a great one to read if you would like to be depressed about the state of the world because, though Kafka’s work is a satire, like a lot of his other work, it manages to strike a strangely real note.

Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead - Tom Stoppard

~ An absurdist play that is a retelling of Shakespeare’s Hamlet from the perspective of minor characters, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, who in the broad overview of the original play, do not matter. Throughout the play, they question their existence and the purpose of it and through that Stoppard dissects not only the absurdity of life, but how fiction and theater reflect that absurdity inadvertently.

As I Lay Dying - William Faulkner

~ The novel details the journey the Bundren family makes after the death of the family matriarch, Addie, to bury her. Each chapter offers a different narrative from the family members and those who surround them, revealing some ulterior motives to them “going to town” to bury Addie. The patriarch Anse desires a pair of false teeth, and the daughter Dewey Dell is pregnant and needs an abortion, as there is no way for her or her family to support it. It’s about the powerlessness of people in the impoverished south. The Bundrens are constantly subject to forces beyond their control, struggles which would be easily solved if they had the money to spare for it. There is more to the book, but that is my favorite reading of it, that of class. Faulkner’s ability to create distinct voices for every one of his characters shines through here.

And, last but not least:

The Collected Poems - Sylvia Plath

~ All the poems Plath wrote during her tragically short lifetime. The best way to demonstrate or summarize the book’s brilliance is just to show you. This is her poem “Edge”, which appears in the book:

“The woman is perfected.   Her dead Body wears the smile of accomplishment,   The illusion of a Greek necessity Flows in the scrolls of her toga,   Her bare Feet seem to be saying: We have come so far, it is over. Each dead child coiled, a white serpent,   One at each little Pitcher of milk, now empty.   She has folded Them back into her body as petals   Of a rose close when the garden Stiffens and odors bleed From the sweet, deep throats of the night flower. The moon has nothing to be sad about,   Staring from her hood of bone. She is used to this sort of thing. Her blacks crackle and drag.”

HOPE YOU ENJOYED! HAPPY READING TO ALL!

[1994sunflower]

Are you still doing requests for Michael? I would really like to see a “when michael first meets your parents” thing ❤️

you literally don't understand how much I loved making this. thank you for the request. I hope you like it!  

the first meeting was definitely explosive buut I think as the relationship progresses, the parents start to get more used to it (even if they still don’t like it) so it isnt ever as tense and volatile as the first. we also get to see protective!yn here which I really liked exploring. 

in which michael meets your parents

You were constantly going back and forth from cleaning and straightening your living room to staring at yourself in the mirror, fixing your makeup and trying not to convince yourself to change outfits completely.

It wasn’t that your parents were judgmental. Just extremely traditional and if you didn’t have everything looking pristine and perfect, a comment was sure to leave one of their mouths. And with this reunion with your parents being so different from past ones, you couldn’t afford for anything else to take attention away.

But mostly you were a nervous sort of excited and maybe thats why you were jumping around, constantly in motion. You hadn’t seen your parents for the better half of year and to say you missed them was an understatement. You grew up pampered with love and their constant belief in you and whatever you dreamed of achieving. Even if at times they felt too strict and expecting perfection. But still, it was hard to even leave home for college because of how close you were with them. That didn’t mean you didn’t constantly call to check in or go over for holidays. But even that wasn’t enough. Each year you organized a day when they would come over to your apartment and you would eat out or eat in and have a family day. It was one of your favorite days because it was one of the only times you weren’t stressed because of school and you felt so absolutely surrounded by love and the people closest to you. Except for nearly 2 years now, your moment with the people closest to you was missing someone. 

They definitely knew about Michael. Ever since you started dating, you told them all about him and how much he meant to you. But you hadn’t wanted to introduce him right away, afraid that it was too soon or afraid that you weren’t completely in a serious relationship just yet. And lucky for you Michael didn’t seem all that interested either. But Michael had become such an integral part in your life, someone you could see yourself being with forever. Someone you didn’t want to part with. So you knew it was time. And you think your heart might erupt at having all your loved ones together at last. You couldn’t hold back the little excited squeal that escaped you when you called to let your parents know about the addition to your family day.

You were staring at your spotless white living room then, going over everything in your mind to make sure you hadn’t let something slip your mind. Yes, you were excited but you were also so nervous. You usually were when it came time for your parents to visit but this time was so much worse as it felt that this unique visit actually had something riding on it. You felt tense despite yourself. Your fingers played with the fabric of your knitted sweater with the white collar peaking up under it. Maybe you had time to change into something your conventional parents might like even better.

But you felt arms wrap around your waist before you could dwell on that thought for too long. A surprised gasp left you but you could recognize Michael’s strong presence anywhere. You were so in your head, you hadn’t even heard him unlock your apartment door with his key. You relaxed in his arms, leaning back against his chest. 

“Thank you for being on time.” You breathed out. You asked him to be there before your ever punctual parents were scheduled to arrive. And you hoped your serious tone was enough to let him know just how important it was to you.

He hummed in response and finally you turned to get a look at him. 

It might’ve been the first time you’d seen him with long sleeves. The shirt covered up his arms and fit respectfully around his chest. But it was impossible to even try to hide the tattoos covering the expanse of his neck and his hands and fingers. And he still had the familiar set of chains draped on his jeans. You weren’t ashamed of him and you would never force him to hide and transform into something he was not to appease your parents. So you never mentioned what he should or shouldn’t wear, how he should or shouldn’t act. You wanted him to be himself, the person you loved so much. Even if it wasn’t what your parents would want, expect or even accept. But still, you couldn’t help but swoon at this subtle way of him showing you that he cared enough to try - at least a little, even if it was only because you cared about your parents.

Because sure you told them about him but maybe the way you saw and described him wasn’t exactly how he was to everyone else. To you, he was sweet, caring, gentle, protective, loving with a hard exterior. But even if they didn’t like him, which you knew they likely wouldn’t at first (ever critical and frankly, just shy of snobby) with how much Michael’s image clashed with the one they were trying to maintain and the same one they wanted for you, you were determined to get them to warm up to him eventually. Because you didn’t know how you could handle it if they didn’t like him at all.

Michael, for his part, was much more relaxed on that front than you were. Because, he didn’t have to wonder or stress about being liked by your parents. Ever since you brought up him meeting them, he already knew they wouldn’t like him. And he wasn’t particularly worried about trying to change their minds. The only opinion that mattered in his mind was yours and you liked him just fine. He could see their reactions already, the horror plastered on their faces when they saw him beside their daughter. They might have seemed willing and excited when you first told them he was invited but that was because they had a false image of him in their heads by how you described him. He almost wanted to skip it because he already knew the outcome, one that would only serve to make you upset and by default then, make him angry. But he knew how important family was to you, how close you were with yours and he couldn’t deny you. When he saw how you smiled and giggled with excitement, he didn’t have the heart to ruin that. But even Ashton had seem privy to what would happen, his smile then telling him not so subtly You’re so screwed.

And maybe that was also the reason he consciously decided to wear something that would hide his tattoos more than before. He knew they still wouldn’t like him but it would be better for them to not absolutely detest him - at least not straight off the bat. He didn’t care if they liked him as your boyfriend but he did care if their hatred was so bad that they tried to pull you away from him because if how obvious it would be that he didn’t deserve you. Not that he would ever accept that even if they tried. Maybe that’s why he felt a little more antsy than he ever expected to feel. He wasn’t nervous to meet them, he was unsure of what meeting them could end up meaning for his relationship.

He had to be at least a little better than he was usually with others. It also didn’t help that he never had to be in the position of meeting a girl’s parents before - especially one that was so incredibly different from him already that her parents, her strict, professional parents would probably blow up to see the type of man their daughter took with her chosen partner, the kind that didn’t seem like would amount to much - which was ill-suited for you who everyone knew would achieve her wildest dreams. For the first time in a long time he couldn’t help but think just how different your paths in life were before they converged and how much he wished, at least for tonight, that he was just a little less inconspicuous, in all fronts (height and body art) so that just the sight of him wouldn’t be an omen for your parents of how badly he was suited for you, how much he would destroy you and their dreams of your future.

It had to be a testament of his love that he hadn’t tried to back out of this already.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and went on your tip toes to try to look him more at eye level - still miserably too short but trying all the same. “I know I already told you but I made food for all of us instead of going out so it’d be more of a personal thing. And please don’t mention anything about me living with you, okay? They-”

“They still think you’re a virgin like a good little girl.” His smile was anything but sweet and you slapped his arm playfully at his words. Oh, another thing they would hate him for. Another way he ruined their precious daughter.

“Michael. This is serious.” It wasn’t what you were going to say. But you didn’t deny his words were true, either.

You didn’t technically move in together. But you spent most of your time with Michael and slept at his house more often than you did in your own apartment. For Michael, it was weird not being there right then with you, even weirder if you were here instead of his house. In your parents minds however, you lived and slept in your apartment 24/7 and this would be the first time Michael was ever in there for an extended period of time. And if they ever found out the truth, they would probably drag you back to live with them and away from Michael tooth and nail. Same goes for if they ever had a clue that he even had a key to your apartment, allowing him access whenever he wanted and for whatever purposes. As far as they were aware, you were still the shy girl who had barely even had her first kiss yet let alone have experienced all you had with Michael. If they even had a clue, they would think Michael was an even a worse influence than his appearance would already lead them to believe; they may even believe he was a devil. 

You took his face in your hands, “One last thing. They may seem a little…snobby but whatever they may think or say at first doesn’t matter. I know they’ll end up loving you just as much as I do.”

Michael didn’t have to respond. You made a small jump to kiss his lips and he caught you in the air easily, holding you up to him so you could kiss more easily. He hadn’t commented on your very conservative outfit, your usual choices of skirts and light dresses (his favorites, the ones that always had such easy access) were done away with and instead a sweater that hid your body and jeans that stood between him and being able to feel your core against him whenever you wrapped your legs around him were in its place. Even without the day starting yet, he already decided the change in wardrobe your parents inspired in you was one of his least favorite part of the day.

Maybe he would end up disliking them just as much as they did him.

You yelped when you heard the knocking at your door and Michael groaned at having to separate from your addicting lips and even more when you wiggled in his arms to be set down again. You scrambled quickly to the mirror, fixing whatever lipstick he had smudged and he had the decency to at least wipe at his own lips to get rid of any color.

Off to a rough start. The last thing you needed was for your parents’ first impression of Michael to be with your lipstick still smeared on his lips. 

You took his big hand in yours, loving the way his fingers immediately entwined in yours, as you made your way to the door, dragging him along. His chains rattled as he followed you. You opened the door with a big happy smile on your face and he was almost sad to know that eventually that smile would be gone. His gaze was on you, almost wishing that he would be wrong about their reactions towards him because he wanted nothing else but to keep you the happiest person in the world, even if he knew the way to do that (to have your parents like him like you wanted them to) was unlikely. 

“Mom, dad!” You jumped excitedly. You hadn’t seen them in nearly a year and at the sight of them, standing side by side at your doorway, dressed as impeccably as they always did and wearing their parental, loving smiles, it suddenly hit you how much you missed them. You could almost cry.

But you didn’t let go of Michael’s hand. And finally, Michael’s gaze shifted from you to the two people he could thank for your marvelous existence. They were everything he imagined they would look like. Just as prim and proper as their daughter, or at least as you were before he came along.

Your hands squeezed Michael’s and he noticed you were shaking a little. He resisted the urged to collect you in his arms to calm you down. He wasn’t sure if it was nerves or excitement. 

“This is Michael, my boyfriend. Michael, these are my parents.” You looked between them expectantly, your parents only having moved from outside to through the doorframe, and Michael realized you were expecting a warm welcome from them at his introduction. 

But both of you watched as your mother’s eyes slipped to your entwined hands, no doubt eyeing the tattoos running up and down Michael’s hand and fingers that basically completely enveloped your small one. To her credit, her grin was still intact. Faking it until she made it.

Your father, was much less of an actor. He stared up at Michael. Your father wasn’t a short man, at least compared to his own wife and his daughter. But very little could measure up to Michael in height. Maybe that had something to do with the way your father’s eyes constantly flickered between the top of your head and to Michael’s eyes, almost bristling at the difference. It was one thing to have a taller boyfriend but it was quite another to have someone as big as Michael, shoulders wide and tall, that seemed to rise dauntingly at your side. It almost felt, to your father, as if you were being taken advantaged of, ravaged by what could be the embodiment of everything he had tried to protect you from.

You watched, your smile slowly fading but still holding on, as their eyes slipped to Michael’s neck. To where his tattoos still were on full display, with an expression of distress. A part of you couldn’t help but wonder what would’ve happened if Michael had chosen to wear a short sleeve. You just hoped they would never have occasion to see him shirtless. You made a note to self to never have a family pool day.

The silence was dreadful. It only lasted for a few seconds but it felt like a lifetime. Especially when you hoped they would have greeted Michael with warmth and even if it had to be fake, excitement. Okay, maybe it would take a little more convincing for them to like him than you thought. You thought this could be a possibility, that they wouldn’t like him at the start, but you convinced yourself it wouldn’t happen. Convinced that they would see how much you liked him, enough to introduce him to them, enough to trust him so completely. 

Michael didn’t stray his eyes from your parents. He wasn’t trying to be challenging or mocking, even if that was usually exactly what he tended to be. But their reactions were exactly what he expected them to be. The looks of uncertainty, as if this was just a big joke they were waiting to be clued in on. They looked at him as if he was the bad guy on the wrong path that had somehow ensnared their precious daughter. He felt every bit as scrutinized as they obviously were scrutinizing him, they didn’t try to hide it. They saw the way they eyed his tattoos, his chains, his size with disapproval and judgement. If he actually cared about their opinions he might be hurt. But it was almost funny. They didn’t even see half of all they could judge him for. Part of him wondered just what you told them about him to make them not expect what he actually turned out to be.

They stood so still, he wasn’t sure if their minds literally malfunctioned or not. But as he felt you pull yourself closer to his side, almost as if trying to protect him, uselessly attempt to shield him from their eyes, he finally glanced down at you while squeezing your hand for comfort. He didn’t mind the silent criticism and immediate rejection. But he saw your eyes swirl with uncertainty and worry. You hadn’t expected this, that much was clear and it was hurting you. You wanted them to meet but you hadn’t wanted to put Michael in a situation where he would feel unwelcome or judged. Michael loved your hopefulness, even if it was fruitless from the start. The only thing making you feel better was that he didn’t seem really bothered.

“Nice to meet you.” His voice was curt but not cold, as polite as he could manage to force himself to be. For your sake, he’d make the first move.

And it was as if your parents sprung back to life. As if they weren’t aware that they had let their façade slip. Your mother’s smile was back in full force, granted it was forced, and it suddenly struck Michael just how much you two resembled one another, your smile was the same. Your father didn’t look happy but he was back to his usual strict faced expression.

“Oh! We’ve heard so much about you Michael.” Your mother clasped her hands together and while everyone could tell her excitement wasn’t genuine, it seemed enough for your hope to come back.

Because your grin came back, matching your mother’s, before you finally let go of Michael’s hand and bounded over to them. “I missed you so much, mom.” You hugged your mother tightly as your father smiled at the two women of his life. Such a different look to the one he had when you were next to Michael. 

“And you too, daddy.” You mumbled as you moved on to hug your father with a relieved sigh.

Oh for fuck’s sake. Michael clenched his lips together into a thin straight line. It was wrong to see you then, bubbly and jumping around excitedly, looking so adorable and wholesome in front of your parents. While you spoke the title you had so often times moaned out as he had you trembling under him, so tiny and submissive that he could completely take over your entire figure, the one that gave him all the power and dominance over you. 

But to hear it in this context just reinforced what Michael already knew. You were a good girl. One that got good grades and obeyed her parents. But he was slowly tainting that goodness, leaving a new part of yourself just for him. And the rest of the world had no idea. It was almost comical to see you put on this mask of a demure, chaste daughter when he knew the truth of what you were for him.

He had to look away from you, the sight of you looking so pure while saying a word that should have no other connotation was a reminder of how innocent you were and just how much he enjoyed ruining that, how much he already had but evidently not enough because there it was still in front of him. 

He had an urge to take it away right then too, to destroy that facade you currently had up, remind you that he had taken away that pure innocence a long time ago. An urge to hear those words you had just uttered but this time directed to him, like he was used to hearing. A fuck you to the parents that thought they knew you so well, that thought you were, were currently seeing you as, an angelic shy daughter who’d never so much as been touched while in reality her big possessive boyfriend had changed that the moment he decided to have you, it was what made you his, preventing anyone else from ever being able to have you again. But the thought of you being that in front of him right then despite all that, being shy, modest and acting virginal was enough for his body to be heating up with need.

It wasn’t the time for those thoughts but he couldn’t help it after hearing your words, spoken with such modesty when he could imagine drawing it from your lips for him with a very different tone. Oh what horror it would come to your parents, to know that he had that same little girl that currently looked as if she held all the pureness in the world was already marked by him, and all the sinful things he had compelled you to do, the path he was taking you along because of it. And there was nothing they could do about it.

He felt a hand clap his shoulder and he snapped out of his thoughts, glancing down to see your father. His grip was tight and his eyes were unfriendly but his words were playful, likely for your sake. “Great to finally meet you, Mike.” Michael cringed at his words, he hated nicknames. Hated what they seemed to mean, that whoever spoke it thought they were close enough, knew him well enough to give him a personal title. Unless it was from you. “You’re a lot different from what Y/N told us, though.”

“Dad!” Your words had a tone of warning to them as you opened your eyes wide in alarm. His words weren’t straight out critical but the meaning was well received. And any hint of a problem was enough for you to jump in.

Your mother squeezed your shoulders. “Oh come now, little bird.” She laid her cheek on the top of your head, it was hard to be mad at them when she was holding you so maternally you almost felt like a child again. Her gaze was on Michael, however. “You’re a lot taller than I imagined. It isn’t hard to be taller than our Y/N though.”

Your cheeks burned in embarrassment at the reminder of just how small you were, this time in front of your boyfriend, but Michael couldn’t stop the albeit tense smile that escaped him at your shyness.

But maybe it wasn’t supposed to be an airy comment. He was taller, but maybe too much. It made it seem as if he was somehow exploiting their poor defenseless daughter, using her to fulfill whatever sick desires he had brewing inside of him. If only they knew.

Your mother hummed, “But if you’re anything like what she tells us about you, I’m sure it will be lovely to get to know you. Even if you do seem so different from all the other boys she’s had interest in.”

The silence that comment was met with was palpable.

Michael’s eyes narrowed at her words. The implication of you with other men (men he had no doubt were a world’s difference from him, men that your mother obviously approved and preferred), thinking of them and crushing on them, was worse enough. But what it meant that your mother purposely remembered and brought them in front of him, your boyfriend, just added a further element.

You had the good sense in moving forward, pulling at his arm before he could retort. Your parents or not, he wasn’t ever good at controlling himself when he got volatile. You cleared your throat. “I made lunch for us. Let’s just sit and get started.”

You were pulling him away and guiding him to your already set dining table. You were uncomfortably aware of the rattling his chains did when he began moving and saw how your parents glanced at them in quick glances. Their lips were set tightly as they walked behind you and Michael and you could feel the way they wanted to talk to each other, no doubt expressing opinions you wouldn’t want to hear.

Michael sat next to you, never letting go of your hand while your father took his place next to him and your mother across from you. If you took away the tension, it almost felt like Michael was the new addition to your small family. The thought made your heart swell. Maybe everything would settle down and get better from then on. You wanted your parents and him to love each other so much, needed this to work on. You weren’t sure if you could handle it if the most important people in your life didn’t get along. You knew Maia already didn’t like him, you didn’t need to add more to the mix.

Your father glanced sideways to Michael. “So, do you study anything in science too? Our daughter spoke all about how kind you were.” His eyes did a not so subtle glance to Michael’s appearance that showcased just how uncertain he was of his daughter’s truthfulness on that account. “But she didn’t mention much about what you do.”

Maybe that was on purpose. Because while you didn’t look the least bit embarrassed when he spoke, your parents didn’t share that sentiment. “No, nothing in science.” He was trying his best, really he was, hiding his contempt and warningly low voice he wanted to take on. You noticed it, the way his tone was still calm, even bordering polite. Or at least his version of polite.

“But Michael helps me out a lot when studying so he knows a thing or two by now. He’s really supportive.” You said. It was true in that you often went to him to study but most of his help came from you practicing bandaging people up after his fights. Not that you were going to make the clarification to your parents.

Your mother nodded, eating your words up. “Well that’s great! It might be even better that you two don’t study the same thing, no competition or anything like that.”  

You loved your mother so much in that moment. At least she was making an effort. And how could you doubt her, really. She was the woman who raised you, the warmest person you knew.

Your father, however, was more blunt. Kind of like Michael. You wondered if having that in common would help them get along better or just dislike each other more.

“So how did you two meet?” Your mother continued, “Do you live on campus as well?”

Michael talked much more than you expected him to. And you were grateful when he responded to each question instead of just a nod or shake of the head. “I live a few blocks away from here. But we met on campus.”

It seemed he knew when to leave out some details as well. Telling them you met him bleeding and hurt after a fight would not have fared well.  

Your mother smiled tightly, “Oh. I suppose it’s easy to visit each other then.” Her gaze split to you and you saw the warning in them. She wasn’t a fan of the prospect of her daughter being alone in a boy’s house, especially one like Michael where he would be free to allure her into unconscionable things a woman like you should not do, particularly one that was raised to do things ‘correctly’ and in the confines of marriage. You hoped she would never have a hint otherwise even if what she was afraid of already happened, and much worse than she ever imagined. Even worse that you had enjoyed it so much, welcomed his allure even.

But before either you or Michael could answer, she continued. “Our little bird cried her eyes out when she moved out.”

“Mom.” You said, hiding your eyes shyly. You didn’t want to think of Michael’s thoughts at that moment, hearing you sound so childish. Maybe thats why your mom said it, knowing that didn’t fit in at all with Michael’s very mature look and aura.

But Michael was staring directly at you, smirking without meaning to. Even then, you were so pure, the worse in your life was leaving your parents. It was as if he was at last being clued into just how much he managed to taint your unsullied person, just how much he managed to change you. From a precious daughter who cried at the thought of parting with her parents, to a slut who cried for his cock and cum. And yet your parents was still blissfully unaware of how he corrupted you. He had to clench his jaw to stop himself from getting hard. 

“She adjusted really well.” His words were filled with a humor only you could understand. The double meaning that went lost to your parents ears, mostly because he knew they wouldn’t want to understand it so they didn’t. 

Your hand was on top of Michael’s on the table, your fingers tracing circles on his hands. Mostly to comfort yourself, but knowing it was helping Michael relax as well. Your father was staring at you with a clenched jaw, visibly frustrated with Michael’s answers, or lack thereof. Maybe he had been hoping that this was just a set up but to see your intimate and gentle interactions with Michael, it was evident that wasn’t the case. It looked wrong to him to even see Michael allow such touches from you when he clearly didn’t deserve it. Especially when he looked so cold. Both of your parents noticed it when they arrived, the coolness with which he regarded them and even you. The warmth you seemed to radiate was so strange next to his mean expression. 

But then the conversation was on you and your studies, your excited chatter filled the air, and Michael was glad for the reprieve. Though he felt as though eyes were still on him constantly. The things he would endure for you.

You had warned him that they were judgmental. But how could they have raised such an open minded girl, one that could’ve been capable of falling in love with him? Or perhaps they didn’t. Perhaps he really had ruined you in more ways than he thought. The thought filled him with a twisted, possessive pride.

“I’ll be right back, I have to bring the dessert from the kitchen.” Michael was getting ready to rise to join you when your mother jumped in. 

“Oh, I’ll help”

Your eyes widened in alarm at the thought of leaving your visibly frustrated father with Michael. “O-Oh. Actually, Michael was going to…”

“Nonsense. He’s a guest.”

You didn’t respond, just nodding tensely. Besides, what could you say? That Michael had spent more than enough days and nights here to no longer hold that guest status? Your parents might combust.

And it seemed as if your dad was waiting for an opportunity to finally speak because as soon as you were out of sight, his gaze was on Michael’s tall figure beside him.

“You know a man like you doesnt strike me as the type to be interested in my daughter.” He said, “You know with your certain look to you. Might scare them away.”

Didn’t scare your daughter away. Michael wanted to quip but your father continued before he had the chance to dwell on whether or not to speak his mind.

“I don’t figure that my little Y/N is your type of woman, normally. What changed?”

How had he gotten you. Was what he was trying to say. How did a man like Michael, get a girl like you. He was sure the rest of the world asked themselves the same question your parents were currently asking themselves. Why had you even given him the time of day? Sometimes he asked himself that too. But usually it filled him with satisfaction knowing how great of a girl he had gotten, to be able to arouse those questions.

He wasn’t wrong. You weren’t the type of girl he usually would’ve gone for before meeting you. He’d never been with an inexperienced girl and your differences, perhaps if anyone else, would have dissuaded him from ever pursuing you. But he couldn’t pinpoint what changed, just that when he met you, none of that mattered.

Michael didn’t lift his own gaze from your father’s. This time not caring if he looked challenging or not and not bothering to try to speak more than just a clipped response. “I don’t know. But seems like I’m your daughter’s type, so it worked out for me.”

“Really, she’s not to...peppy for you? You seem much more .... stoic” 

In fact it’s the happiness you bring in his life that he loves so much. He wasn’t stoic with you but his smiles, laughs and chuckles were reserved only for you. And he loved seeing you look so shy and cute next to him. 

“No.”

Just as blunt as your father. And while it may not seem so to anyone beside you, he really was still trying to be as proper as possible. That included some slightly unmannerly responses and behaviors, but he wasn’t cursing or intimidating. So he counted that as a win.

If your father expected a boyfriend desperate for approval, he wasn’t in luck. Michael didn’t care for his acceptance or support. He didn’t care that your father’s face was turning red with anger; at the suggestion that his daughter, the one he raised so carefully, the gentle and smart one that they were so proud of, the one destined for a nice marriage with a nice rich man, could possibly be attracted to someone like him who, with the small portion of ink he could see, screamed bad news. Michael had an urge to let him in on a little secret; you were much more than just attracted to him, you were weak for him. He wondered how much angrier your father would be if he knew his daughter called him daddy too. 

“Listen here, Michael” He tried his best to be well mannered. “I don’t know what a guy like you wants with my daughter, your intentions. But it’s not what’s best for her, you’re not what’s best for her. She might be blinded from that right now but when she wakes up, and she will, you won’t be around for too long afterward. So take whatever sick fantasy you have away from her because guess what? She won’t be participating. She’s too smart to fall for it. I won’t let my little girl be defiled by someone like you.”

A little too late for that. He had lost count of how many times he made sure to cum all over your face to prove it. 

Michael was silent, staring at him with dangerous eyes. But even still, a taunting smirk was threatening to form on his lips. If only he knew that Michael had ‘his little girl’ on her knees yesterday with his cock down her throat.

Your father was right. He likely wasn’t what was best for you, you could do better. But Michael was a selfish man and you had already allowed yourself to be claimed by him, wanted him just as much as he did you. And he wasn’t going to let anyone take you away from him. The thought that your father was still worried about your cherished chastity with someone like him, just increased the lust fueling in him at the knowledge that he had already tarnished the sweet girl no one expected, or dreamed, to have been ensnared by someone like  him.

“She’s a big girl, now.” He said with a secretive smirk. “And I plan on staying for a very long time” He let his sentence stop there for your sake but the rest of his sentence hung between them in silence. so get used to it. Maybe whatever rich loser you wanted her to be with would be afraid of you or cared, but like you said: I’m not what’s best for her. So I don’t. 

Your father’s voice rose so much Michael was surprised you hadn’t heard and come running to defuse the situation. “Look at you! You can’t expect me to think you have good intentions with a girl that you tower over, one that still looks at the world with wonder and has nothing visibly in common with you. She’s never done drugs, never drank, doesn’t have tattoos, she dresses in pastels for God’s sake. One you can easily manipulate especially as it’s pretty obvious to anyone that has eyes that you are more….lived than she has been. She’s lived a sheltered life and that makes her susceptible to bad influences, one that try to take advantage of her for their own twisted desires or kinks.”

Michael didn’t even know if he could deny the accusation towards his intentions. He loved you, couldn’t imagine spending his life without you. He had nothing but good intentions in being with you. But yet, the intentions that swirled around in his mind constantly, the ones that saw you on your knees, bent over, crying for him, body moving alongside him, eliciting you to do every sinful desire, every bad influence, in his heart were anything but good. Only fueled by your tiny size, how everything about him was too big for you, your innocence and wide eyed look to the world, and how that is visible in the way you dress like a naive slut without even realizing it. You were the completely opposite of him and him being able to taint you, leave his mark on you in that way by using that pureness in all the dirty ways he saw fit was a kink he would never get sick of.

As much as Michael wanted to fight back against his words as angrily as he felt. He didn’t. Because he knew you would come back and fix everything and he didn’t want his lapse of judgement to stick in your father’s memories. Despite what he thought, Michael loved you and knew you enough to know that.

But his words held the same amount of punch nonetheless. “Trust me anything I do to her, I don’t have to manipulate her to do it.” He told you that he’d try with your parents. But he never promised that he would try that hard.

And just like he predicted, you were sprinting over to them in an instant. He could only hope that you hadn’t heard his words, only enough to see your father’s veins practically pop out. You stood between and it might’ve been to spite your father that Michael stood at that moment, resting his hand on your hips and pulling you into him protectively. The top of your head just skimming his chest. Showcasing to your parents in visual terms that he was your boyfriend. Maybe it was their worst decision ever to allow you to move out and into university. But it was too late to regret it now. In fact, watching that realization dawn on them, seeing firsthand just what he had taken from the world, a proper innocent girl. You were his now, introduced to sex and pleasure by his hand, ruining you, when that was never meant to happen, just seemed to stoke the fire burning in him.

“Dad!” You stared at your father with a hurt gaze, allowing your figure to be held tightly by Michael.

+

You sighed dramatically as you entered the kitchen. Knowing that if your mother insisted on coming with you it was because you were about to have a talk, one you definitely did not want to hear.

“Y/N.” She started and you slumped against the counter, crossing your arms defensively. Just when you were starting to think she liked him, that things were going more smoothly than they started to be. 

“If you’re here to judge my boyfriend, I’d rather not hear it, mom.”

Your mother nodded as if she was on your side. “Oh, darling. I know all girls go through this phase of liking the boys like this and you’re in college now so everything seems so new and interesting. But if this is just you rebelling or trying to prove something to your father and I. Like, I don’t know maybe you resent us from keeping you from experiencing your teen years then…”

“A phase?!” You stared at her with horror. “You think this is a phase? That I’m with Michael because I’m trying to prove a point or something, I’ve been with him for 2 years mother!”

“And you are just now introducing us, what does that tell you?”

“That I knew you’d act like this and I didn’t want him to be put in a position where he has to defend his very existence! I’m not ashamed of him.”

Your mother touched her forehead in exasperation. “Listen to yourself defending him. Boys like him…they’re only interested in one thing and I don’t want you getting swept up in it, because it isn’t you. Don’t think Maia hasn’t told me all about him, too” You might kill your best friend before this dinner is over. “I raised a kind, gentle, wholesome girl and I don’t want to see what someone like him can do to that when he is very obviously anything but. He’s a bad influence! Honey, really he looks so cold and tense, like he’s half a beat away from killing someone. Can he really give you the love and care you’re used to? That you deserve? He’s walking a different path than you are. And one day you’ll wake up from this and realize that your father and I are right and that we’re just looking out for what’s best for you. You should be with boys more like you. Like Daniel! You remember him from church when you were little? His mother tells me he studies here too and I hear he has grown up very well, I-”

“Are you kidding me right now?” Was your mother seriously attempting to set you up while your boyfriend was in the other room? 

She was partly right. Michael had been walking a different path than you and he had changed you. He had introduced you to things you never could have imagined and you have been side by side with things you’ve been warned all your life to never partake in but he never forced you, he respected boundaries and he wanted to keep you safe and pure as much as anyone.He taught you everything you knew about the world and what it had to offer, he opened your eyes and other parts of yourself and you never felt more exhilarated and safe than with him.

But how were you supposed to tell her that your love for Michael wasn’t a desperate attempt of rebelling or a phase to do so. That you were already swept up in what ‘boys like him’ wanted and you were all too happy to fulfill that. You loved everything she was warning you about. You loved his possessiveness and how wanted you felt with him, how he treated you like a princess, gently yet so roughly. How he was so much bigger he could throw you around however he wanted and you were oh so happy to be his submissive toy. You felt cared for, despite him looking colder than he really was; in fact even more knowing you were an exception in his life, that he was only that way with you. Everything he taught you about sex and pleasure and how good he made you feel. 

 You weren’t going to wake up one day and see what they claimed was the truth. Because the real truth was, you couldn’t be happier with Michael. A man who respected you and made you feel like the center of the world, you’d never felt more loved and cared for than you did with him. And the thought of dating someone like Daniel when you’d already had a taste of Michael, his danger, his protection, his adoration, was dreadfully boring and distasteful.

You were going over your head how you were going to explain all this when the rough clanging of silverware sounded from the dining room. You’d been with Michael enough to know the sound of problem when you heard it. So you dashed away from the kitchen, leaving your mother to trail behind you without a word.

+ 

You didn’t give anyone a chance to speak. You saw your father’s angry face, replacing his usual collected strict one, but you didn’t even want to hear what Michael could have said to trigger it.

“I was so excited.” Your voice broke despite yourself, your eyes turning glassy. “I was so happy that the three most important people in my life were finally going to meet because I wanted you to love each other just as much as I love each of you.”

You squared your shoulders, happy that your parents were at least giving you the decency of listening. “The last thing I wanted was to subject my boyfriend to feeling inferior or like he isn't welcome or accepted. He doesn’t deserve that and I love him too much to put him in this position.” 

You felt Michael’s hands tighten around your figure but you kept talking. It broke his heart to see just how happy you had started the day and how you had finished it. “He might not be what you expected but I want to make it clear that the way I described him to you when I mentioned him, that is how I see him and it’s not my fault you’re too stuck on appearances or stereotypes to see that. He’s not taking advantage of me and he’s not a bad influence or using me or whatever I represent to satisfy some…perversion or whatever you think.” 

You couldn’t remember the last time you spoke that way to your parents. But at that moment, you couldn’t really care. You were too hurt, the excitement and hope you felt at the beginning was squashed and instead there was just a fierce protectiveness for the love of your life. “Michael tried but you couldn’t even give him that? I love him and he loves me and I've never felt more secure in being loved, adored or protected. He always looks out for me and never lets me do something that is bad for me. He has never pressured me to do anything and in fact, he's stopped me from being pressured to do things I’ve never done or wanted to do before. I can see a future with him and yet my own parents won’t even take the time to get to know him without already having made up their minds.”

It was your tears that had your parents glancing at each other guiltily before back to you. They weren’t being fair and while their minds were certainly not changed about Michael, they understood their need to at least tolerate him, especially when he meant so much to the only person that mattered in their eyes: you.

Your father spoke first, his eyes jumping around to avoid staring directly at Michael but he nodded as he forced his words out. “You’re right, darling. We’re sorry, to you and Michael. I think we just got caught off guard, plus we were already not going to like him - being your first boyfriend and all. Can’t blame us for being worried.”

And Michael should’ve expected it from his too kind girlfriend when you smiled through your shed tears. You nodded at his words as an acceptance of the apology, just happy they gave Michael one in the first place. You sniffled tearfully. “Of course, daddy. Thank you.” 

Okay, Michael would seriously have to force you to stop saying that to your father or else your dad would really hate him. And he’s afraid he wouldn’t give less of a fuck.

But then your parents were sitting down again, a time for a restart and so Michael guided you down, rubbing his hand up and down soothingly on your back. He knew your parents wouldn’t really ever change their minds about him - especially when, if he was honest, a lot of what they said about him deserving you or how he was changing you, were correct. But they didn’t understand your dynamic, that that very corruption of you was his favorite part. And he was teaching you to love it just as much.

“Yes, again, I’m very sorry Michael.” Your mother nodded at him, “And thank you, if all that she just said is true about looking out for her. Actually, we wanted to thank you. Since you started dating, our little bird has really stepped out of her shell.” You whined embarrassed and Michael fought back a smirk, he was helping you with that all right. But maybe your mother wouldn’t be thankful for that if she knew the truth. But your father just nodded along. 

Michael didn’t respond. He wasn't protecting you for your parents, he would protect you even without them. 

“We wondered who this man was that was helping her so much but now I see it’s because you’re so….free spirited” The reference to Michael’s tattoos couldn’t be more obvious. He couldn’t be nice to Michael even if he tried. But maybe a backhanded compliment was better than a boxing match. 

Michael hadn’t even wanted to wear an uncomfortable long sleeved shirt, knowing he wouldn’t be able to hide all his ink anyway and he didn’t really care too much about the difference in your parents reactions if they’ll react negative to their daughters boyfriend having neck and hand tattoos anyway. But right then he thought maybe he had made the best choice. 

Michael watched them carefully. Tolerate. That’s all their new behavior was towards him and he could appreciate that. Because equally, he was forcing himself to be as proper as his mind would let him towards them. Of course, that didn’t mean he was anxious about their acceptance or good feelings towards him.

He had a feeling any future meetings would be like that, the knowing that neither of them really approved of him, the sneaky attempts of guiding you away but the general fake pleasantries thrown his way. And he would try not to ruin that by letting his anger cause him to speak his mind, he could be proper. 

And either you were blissfully unaware of the tense peace compromise between them or you didn’t care, but you just laid your head to rest on his shoulder as you listened to your parents prod more into Michael’s life, asking questions about their daughters boyfriend as if they were accepting him into their lives. You couldn’t be more grateful. And happy. It felt like it was true, your most loved ones were living side by side in harmony. It was everything you wanted and more. A bubbly smile filled your face that your parents, despite themselves, noted how starkly it stood out next to Michael’s tough face. 

They hadn’t tried to take you away from him, you were still in his arms. Along with the pride he felt at you standing up for him when you didn’t have to, when he was very aware of your feelings for him and secure in them. He felt more appreciative than he would ever let you know. All of that that was enough for Michael to play along, play nice and just wait for this entire meeting to be over with. Wait until he could finally be alone with you and content, like he wanted. Like he only ever was when it was just you two.

Besides, despite his best attempts, all these reminders of your differences had left him hornier than he would like to admit. His desires were flaring up to have your parents ‘pure little daughter who he didn’t deserve’ moaning under him. They couldn’t leave fast enough. 

[icecreamkink]

watched all of the untamed / cql in two weeks after my friend 1 told me abt mdzs a hundred years ago and my friends 2 and 3 tried to get me into cql for like two whole years and there are.

feelings.

very first scene is a very dramatic death in the middle of nightmare battle on sith planet land . i will forget abt it in the next tenish episodes and then will be very surprised when it becomes Extremely Painful

anyway magic flying gays and possession and human sacrifice! we are off to a great start

in retrospect, chaos goblin wei wuxian must have had a blast pretending to be so cRaZy and be as disruptive as he could as mo xuanyu lbr

listen. why is fire always evil coded. cant a magic clan wear red, black and orange and have flame motif while being wholesome?

For Legal Reasons These Are Not Zombies

i wish the politics of the sect were a bit clearer, especially at the beggining when the wen clan had sm power, was wen ruohan the chief cultivator? is that why they were so slow in responding to the attacks? im v confused by the pre yiling patriarch politics

fighting in the roof by the moonlight as way of flirtiiiiiiing. as i understand this is a wuxia/xianxia trope and honestly...... thank u for ur service

slight bullying and being a nuisance in general, as a way of flirting we love to see it

wwx: if i drink on the rooftop, thats not inside the cloud recesses! hmmm check and mate :D lwj: i will fuck u up so help me god   wwx: :0

i lov them

through hell or high water (quite literally) wei wuxian rem ains a trashfire gremlin till the end and i love him with my whole heart

in the pt subs wei wuxian calls jiang cheng a stubborn duck and i dearly wish that had come back

my opinions on almost every character goes from love to hate u - Hmm Me Like U - BABY. ILY. and i am Very Pleased w that. its been a while since i loved such a complete cast so much i think

no really. i WONT go into a detailed rant abt what i love about each of these characters and each of their relationships to each other. but i COULD. 

some lan disciples in the loudest whisper ever: YEAH THATS THE JIN BASTARD MENG YAO HEARD THE GOT SUPER HUMILIATED BY HIS DAD LOL SURE HOPE HE DOESNT TAKE SLIGHTS TO HIS CHARACTER TO HEART

lan xichen, immediately: i must Love him 

being into problematic ppl is in the Lan genetics, we come to realize

wen qing deserves so many awards for so many things but not snapping and just stabbing wen chao is at the top 

that scene at lan qirens class where wwx talks about using resentful energy to fight a violent spirit. exquisite.

 It establishes Good Student lan wangji, wei wuxian as curious and questioning and not afraid of taboo,  lwj sees that wwx is not, in fact, a dumb ass hes just a Dumbass,  shows us the audience (esp. a western audience) how shocking the idea of disrupting the dead/dying and controlling resentful energy actually is,  the theoretical foreshadow arguing, everyone else like ‘shUT UP’,  “and how could you ensure that the resentful energy would obey you and not hurt other?” “well i havent thought that far” and of course, lan qiren just straight up lobbing a hard object at wwx head,. chefs kiss

fellas is it gay to bother the hot rule obessessed nerd from ur school and make drawings of him with flowers in his hair and then hide gay porn in his book to antagonize him and ask him to hold ur hand and be ur friend and talk to him all the time and get him drunk and give him bunnies bc you know he likes them and give him a lantern and always want his attention and dedicate yourself to getting him to smile-

and after all of that wwx rly said oh i Admire him, aksd like yeah we all were there in high school buddy

i have Learned. caves = gay.

 accidental marriage +beint physically tied together with the sacred married ribbon+ gay panic+foreshadowing+bunnies! in the cave (1)

the story abt lan yi and baoshan sanren tho. i would like to see it

early days wen bros pull my heart strings like a guqin 

EVERYTHING about the lantern scene; disaster hets jiang yanli and jin zixuan; how wwx made lwj a bunny lantern. how soft and touched lwj was. wwx gleefully pointing out he was smiling and lwj IMMEDIATELY PULLING HIW SWORD ON HIM LMAO. tragically foreshadowy promises to do right by pepople, living without regrets. lwjs 'oh no do i love him??' face. just. all of it. 

i have it on good acc that in the novel lwj is explicitly Repressed Gay Panicked Big Horny which is delightful and rly Adds to the performance

 baby lwj is really just conceal dont feel dont let them know u have EMOTIONS (derogatory)

jiang cheng rly went "why dont.u go play with HIM if u like him so much"

jc and wwx have big BIG annoying sibling energy dont think too hard abt it or youll cry

lotus pier is soo pretty :((((((((((((((((

up until episode 13 you could think this could be a magical ancient chinese gays pride n prejudice w swords and shenanigans ................youre just not prepared for the game of thrones of it all

seriously ha ha ha i cried so much w this show my eyes genuinely swelled up . like. physically. fun timez fun timez

that being said, its hilarious that wen xu goes to cloud recesses like 'come out or ill kill all these hostages' and then DOESNT WAIT FOR AN ASWER AND KILLS THEM ALL IMMEDIATELY. do u know how blackmail works sir

 would like to make it recorded that from day one i was like 'CALL A GODDAMN CULTIVATION G20 THIS ASSHOLE SECT IS LITERALLY MASSACRING YALL!!' and it took them like 3 or 4 massacres to do anything and they STILL sent their heirs into their territory  LIKE

when wwx cites the gusu lan rules to wen chao tho. that rebel/attention whore/cutie pie 'look lan zhan i DID memorize the rules after all' ‘also a big fuck you to the wen sect :D :D’ sweet spot that scene achieves . delicious

all the cultivator young masters being petty af even though they are practically prisoners at the cave is hilarious and i love them

hurt and comfort + gay mistunderstandings + watsonian gay declaration music + accidental evil acquisition! at the cave (2)

its like where do i start? the fact theyre both trapped and kind of heavily injured inside an isolated cave with a murder turtle? wwx gay panicking lwj into coughing up bad blood? lwj being jealous as wwx babbles abt mianmian? telling him he shouldnt play with people and wwx saying he never played him? wwx going Oh. I See what is happening. YOU like mianmian, and lwj absolute done face ??? (iconic) wwx touching the sacred married ribbon Again? the telepathic communication? the sword? WEI WUXIAN ASKING LAN WANGJI TO SING TO HIM AS HE IS PASSING OUT AND LWJ SINGING HIM. THE SONG. HE WROTE. FOR WWX. AND THAT HE CALLED. THEIR SHIP NAME????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????

they are SO insufferable pleeeeease

in the words of my friend 1 : “CQL is so gay we were all amazed how it got past the censors Ofc unfortunately it can't be novel level gay But they did their best And we love them for it”

in the theme of songs THIS OST. WUJI HAS BEEN LIVING IN MY MIND RENT FREE SINCE I FIRST HEARD IT the whole ost is so so sO beautiful.

 the costuming in this is also soooo exquisite. the embroidery? the fabrics? the details? how every sect and clan has a distinct style and architecture? (also ik they based each off of dif periods in chinese history which is REALLY fucking cool) just chefs kiss

the direction too!. i enjoy the unusual camera movements and i think they give it that Vibe, also their composition is PARTICULARLY good when it comes to telling the subtext through position of camera/position of character (like nhs off to the side in scenes he at first glance doesnt need to be/ how lwj is often centered when hes Jealous Yearning at wwx being affectionate w other ppl, wwx return from burial mounds etc)

ik madam yu is like Badass Milf Check and shes not getting any mom of the year awards but im delighted at how messy she is. IMAGINE that woman on tiktok

you better have enjoyed gay cave (2) bc its Just Pain from here on out! 

jiang fengmian and madame yu win the Most Dramatic Way to show they do care about each other, actually ..... ever :)

i thought jiang yanli jiang cheng and wei wuxian forcing themselves to escape yunmeng barely holding on after their parents are killed was going to be the height of pain in this show. ha. 

the family dynamics in general on this showwwww, both blood/ adopted/ found families, brotherly bonds and lifelong friendships just. rly. truly. fucked me up. theyre all so important and complicated and well rounded and beautiful and tragic

and beyond being a Win For the Gays im so glad the relationships w wwx and jiang yanli/ wen qing were NOT changed from platonic bc they are so much better like that imo. like maybe if we didnt Live In A Society it wouldnt be so, but the fact wwx and others can love and value them so much and theres nothing romantic or sexual abt it is like. so refreshing. especially @ jyl, with the way he and jc are overprotective of her and shes such a nurturing/care taker figure for them, it would just not vibe as well if they made it romantic

i love that this is a story abt Wei Wuxian, the Yiling Patriarch aka Actual Satan/Boogey Man/Village With/Public Enemy Number One , my dude is literally a necromancer who only dresses in black and has evil smokey black tendrils wafting out of him, but the really edgy one is still jiang cheng, pastel purple fashion icon

and speaking of best/worst siblings wei wuxian and jiang cheng *immediately starts crying* 

The Golden Core Transfer i just. no thots only tears 

wen qing and wen ning putting themselves in so much danger just.... to help them. wn saving jc from wen chao. wq finding a way to get wwx to transfer his core. like thinking about the monumental work these two did to help wwx and jyl and jc... jyl trying so fucking hard to be strong and keep on moving and giver her little brothers comfort after losing everything... jiang cheng. losing his parents and his home and his ability to do anything abt it and his complete desperation and lack of self worth and turning on them with agression  when he didnt realize all that they did for him ... hhhhhhhhhhhhh

me, pointing at the whole cast “i just LOVE them mom!!!”

its sad tho, that BARELY ANY of the women have like.... actual important conversations let alone relationships with each other at all in the story. and like wq and jyl have stayed at the same place for extended periods of time, where wq actively took care of her TWICE,  and still! not one measly convo, nothing! ................ .𝓌ₕᵧ

everyone in this show need a good sip of Self Worth and Stop Sacrificing Yourself juice 

ngl the sword flying looks very dumb 

“a-cheng, please bring a-xian back.” “i will, i promise.” ;-;

the whole calling each other by the More Intimate Version of the name, first as teasing and later as true intimacy. mmmhmmm yes

untamed where everythings the same but wwx evil flute song is eoeo

related that scene when wwx comes back from the burial mounds for the first time w demonic cultivation and he acts all formal and calls lwj hanguang-jun and keeps being evasive and distant and mean and soooooo................. facetious 

and how hes kind of desperately trying to keep intense lwj at bay (A FIRST) and avoiding actually talking to either of them and its all tension ughhh and then he MOCKS his and lwjs relationship, he jokes w him in this like... mean echo of their usual ~banter~ oof 

 and like!!! uncertain but so relieved jc who just HUGS him w no reservations for once and its not like he isnt just as worried as lwj abt wwx and what hes doing, but he chooses in that moment to enjoy getting him back first and mmhmMMMmMm yes (maybe my favorite scene in the whole show? MAYBE SO. ) 

highkey hurt me but also. i might be into mean wwx. i will take no criticism.

lan zhans sad eyes tho :((((((((( 

on one hand i wish we could have seen what happened at the burial mounds but on the other the timeskip adds so much flair to his return so im hnnn

also i love that hes been missing for 3 months reappears kinda melancholic and bloodthirsty and knowing malign tricks and jc is like 'so. are u sad bc of lan wangji'

when ur bae survived the war but he thinks ur evil/ might be evil so you cant kiss :///

hmmm talking at the rooftop under the moonlight not mentioning everything that stands between usssss

they are the two jades of lan and we’ll be the two heroes of yunmeng is the type of line u dont even need to know whats gonna happen to know thats gonna be sad

when they fight wen ruoshan at the nightless city i thought that was the battle we see at the first ep and its not and its so easy and theyre all like ‘yayy we won go wwx!’ i was just. SCREAMS WHAT is gonna HAPPEN

so like. post burial mounds/sunshot campaign pre yiling patriarch wwx is like. ultra arrogant, ultra mocking, peak lil shit and it gave me e v e r y t h i n g i wanted

even tho having the wen prisoners at the targets at phoenix mountain and still having wwx and jzx shooting the arrows was???? so.... tone deaf 

wwx: fucking w demonic energy   jyl: he has never done anything wrong in his life, ever <3 <3 (mood)

the parallels between meng yao/wei wuxian (and even xue yang a bit?) are Seen and they are Valid

wwx post burial mounds: can yall SHUT UP abt the goddamn sword (suibian left the chat)

LIKE truly, we talk abt the angst and yearning with wangxian. but what abt wwx and suibian. xianbian / xianqing angst and comfort 100k

take a shot everytime someone coughs up blood

zidian is simply the coolest spiritual weapon rip to suibian and chenqing and bichen and sendou and baixa........ but tis the truth 

cons: everyones families died in a nightmare war! everyones homes burned to the ground! everyone is traumatized! pros: everyone gets cooler clothes and weapons!!

wen ning and a-yuan and yanli bestest babes squad dont touch me rn

everyone: brooding and fighting                                                                wq and jyl: why dont you try some acupunture/drinking some soup and calm down huh? how abt that bitch?? 

showing the battle/massacre at the nightless city first was genius actually bc then everytime we have a cute scene w yunmeng bros and theyre like 'we'll be together forever! uwu' youre like oh. oh no. oh no no no. 

justice vs lawfulness vs means and ends 👁

jc: stay in the right path and practice the art of the sword                        wx: yeah thats not gonna happen chief

my reaction to wwx renouncing to the sect politics to help the wens was just that elmo burning gif in succession

the dramatic rain. wen qing desperately calling out to wen ning. the ghosts/puppets killing the guards. how terrifying wn actually was while wwx was controlling him :( lwj goeing after him to try and stop him and then he just; he Sees him and understands him even if he cant actually do anything about it other than let them go. 

“there must be somewhere in this earth we can go to :(((((((((”

"IF I HAVE TO FIGHT THEM, I'D RATHER IT BE YOU. DYING BY YOUR HANDS WOULD AT LEAST BE WORTH IT." oh my god oh my god oh my goooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooddddddd

also lwjs umbrella is white w black smoke.. .  . nice

yiling patriarch / demonic farming burial mounds settlement is like one of my favorite concepts. they an "EVIL" FARMING COMMUNITY LED BY THE VILLAGE WITCH COME ON

they planted TURNIPS and LOTUS FLOWERS and ONE (1) baby and made lanterns and a common hall :(((((((

wen qing and wei wuxian, baddest bitches and genius science best friends i absolutely LOVED to see it. they rly went ‘is anyone gonna sibling/project partner that’ and didnt wait for an answer

both wwx and jyl getting lotus ponds at the burial mounds and in lanling bc they miss lotus pier ;;;;;;;w

;;;;; wish jyl had actually gone into the burial mounds. we were robbed of jyl and wq meeting again and jyl meeting a-yuan and seeing the settlement and the homes and all ;w; at least jc did go, stab wounds and broken arms and all

wwx like... having thrown his whole life away to help the wens (yeah the sect leaders and jin guangshan in particular wanting his stygian tiger amulet was an Element but still) and not.... necessarily regretting it, but grappling with all of the consequences of it... becoming moody and drepressed at times, missing his family and lotus pier and his friends and probably simply missing being around people and causing trouble, extrovert that he is, lashing out at the wens and at a-yuan, just in general the whole messiness of that experience

the way the resentful energy does affect his temperament is rly nice bc its not too in your face,(i mean outside of the Shaky Hands of Rage) but like he clearly has a much lesser control on his anger and impulsivity (tall order) than both before bm and after hes ressurected

on that note A-YUAN BABIEST BABY BOY BEST BOY

lan zhan being like oh hey there wei ying fancy meeting u and our son here. just passing by u know how it is hmmmmMm and then PLOT TWIST having defied orders to go see him and being punished for it. oof;;

 they habent seen each other in like? a year? and now theyre tgt 10 seconds and are already parenting a child together

also lwj rly kneels down in the snow way too much to be healthy

wwx: calm down guyssss i wont lose control of demonic cultivation omgggg  .   spoiler alert: he loses control of demonic cultivation

did u enjoy cute children? good bc now the Real Pain Begins

jiang yanli and jin zixuan rly out there APROPRIATING both disaster gays AND bury ur gays huh ;w;

i KNEW jin lings birthday was gonna fuck something up but the GASP that left my body when wwx lost control of wn and killed jin zixuan .. . . 

im sorry and thank you aaaaAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaAAAAaAAAAA 

when wen ning and wen qing were telling wwx their plan i was saying NO NO NO NO NO NO out loud in despair 

also can we talk abt how wq is definetely talking about only the both of them surrending themselves but then? everyone else just surrenders w them? IT MAKES NO SENSE LIKE WHY WOULD THEY what would be the Point

 sometimes there are some pretty gaping jumps in logic and continuity that are just like                     ?          ?

wwx: oh so when you try to murder me its justified but when i survive through dark magic and murder all of you its a "war crime"

unsurprisingly, his most feral, most spiraling moment talking to the sect leaders on the roof and attacking them and even fighting lan zhan is among my favorite scenes... its like, so painful to watch but also   so       thrilling   (and maybe my wen bbs dying arose some resentful energy in me what can i say) 

and its JUST, all they ever wanted was to do good but then... war. and trauma. and hubris. 

jiang cheng on the ground clearly thorn between what to do and feel is a Mood, lets just say

i was already crying when jyl showed up, but if i wasnt-

 i suffered SO MUCH through this series trying to figure out WHY jc would kill wwx. and when i understood. its somehow not as bad as i thought and also MUCH MUCH WORSE

a look into my group chat during the last flashback episodes:

SO ANYWAY. after the BLOOD BATH and RIPPING YOUR HEART OUT and FEEDING IT TO YOU  the untamed goes ‘ayy back to the present!! tu du dud ud du’ 

literally it ends a quarter into an episode and then KEEPS GOING i had to pause and stare blankly at the ceiling for an hour

babie cultivators and detective soulmates . i do need some cute after All of That 

(not that the pain is over LOL)

lwj is significantly less emotionally repressed in the present and its delightful. hes just ALL IN with wwx. and not just in the ‘i would and have killed various men and risked my reputation for you’ but also ‘ur tired here have a drink i brought it up cause i know u like it and it want you to be happy, always’

“when everyone praised me and wanted my power, you were the only one that challenged me. now that everyone hates me and wants me dead, youre the only one that stands by my side.” hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhnnnnnnnnnnnnnn 

and just filling in the blanks how lan zhan searched for him. for all of those 16 years he searched for him and was punished for it and raised a-yuan, the only survivor of the burial mounds settlement, as his own in gusu......

and jiang cheng.  being the tough love uncle . having raised the yunmeng jiang clan from the rubble all alone, his whole family dead, some of it on the blame of his own brother, his siblings, his closest friends gone.......and only jin ling there needing his guidance. 

THE PARALLEL BETWEEN JIN LING BEING A LIFELINE FOR JIANG CHENG AND A-YUAN FOR LAN WANGJI AFTER THE BATTLE AT THE NIGHTLESS CITY  

great now i made myself sad

and like . the fact! that lwj and jc dislike each other!!. jc projects blame onto him for wwx both “leaving” him and indirectly causing their families deaths and when hes so consumed by it he makes wwx an enemy, lwj is there now? trying to protect him?? and lwj, who can never understand the pain that wwx , indirectly or not put jc through, but who was right there when jc tried to kill him and will never allow him to hurt wwx again. and how they like. in a way project blame of their tragedies onto each other while dealing with some type of survivor guilt and in their own way still loving wwx through it all???  amd in way its kind of fundamentally selfish but also tragically understandable? and like when u put it against the fact that after he disappears during the sunshot campaign they were looking for him together and fought together??

JUST. THE CHARACTERS. AND THE RELATIONSHIPS IN THIS. MAN. UGH. GOD. 

and like i think thats what makes it so good? its such a sad and painful and violent story, edgy even, but its compelling bc at the center of it there are all of these relationships and different types of love and hope and. :( i love it

enough crying lets talk abt wwx sleeping at the jingshi with lwj and wearing his under garment for a minute 🙏

 jin ling just has that Was Raised by JC energy tho lmao i love him

babie cultivator squad is the perfect ammount of cute and comedic relief while still bearing the weight? of the narrative in a way, both from sizhui and jin lings existences, and also. like. how do i put this. they feel hopeful? they were born after a war, they came of age at a time of relative peace, they dont hold on so closely to the resentments of their parents/father figures, they are specifically shown as more accepting and open minded. and its like.... Hope for the future  

one of the ?? things  i love the most is the fact that the main cast are often in situations where theyre hunted/running but they like. never wear disguises... just going around in their gorgeous expensive clan clothes and hair ornaments and distinctive spiritual weapons.... maybe w a straw hat on, just for kicks

wwx teacher 🥺🥺🥺

so this is why its called Yi City Misery huh

a-qing is such. an icon. im so sad. my girl even knew to leave xys dumb self rotting by the road but no one listens to her thats why theyre all dead or sad 

her and xue yang measuring each other up was so entertaining lmao

 its the funniest thing when hes like. HERES MY SAD STORY. FOR WHY IM A SADISTIC MURDERER. I BROKE MY HAND ONCE. 

like ok someone broke his hand in a horrible way, and like Poverty, i get it but also like.......... that lost the brunt of a proper sob story like, 50 sadistic murders ago bby

and i love that xingchen does not entertain that for a second hes like ‘not ?????? good enough???’ and the best thing is he wasnt even like 'u hadto be the bigger person' or sth but ' well then break that dudes hand back, rip his arm off for i care, what do the rest of us have to do w anything???” 

anjo sensato :(

xue yang is like..... the sexy sadistic evil version of a himbo..... a meanbo...

the fucked upness of xy’s feelings for xxc/ xxc and sl feelings for each other... like my dude literally gave his bf HIS EYES. and xy getting so attached to xxc .... the fucked up fake domesticity.... having him hurt sl..... then desperately trying to bring him back ...................... oof

song lan........... literally had his eyes AND tongue removed, his bfs eyes put in place, was almost killed, turned into a puppet by his bf unknowingly, manipulated by xy, sees his bf killing himself in despair.... and STILL finds the strenght to get up from there, and keep on traveling and helping people and attempting to fix xxcs soul.......... like, my man. damn. 

wangxian looking at songxiao and seeing an Actually more painful parallel for themselves. ft. that Color Coding. 

THE A-YUAN/SIZHUI REVEAL PUNCHED ME IN THE HEART but in a good way for a change

should have know that he would be the Best Boy the cute one w all the braincells

the butterfly AND the bunny lantern. i see how it is

u know is very convenient that no one can see the stark black veins on wen nings neck, ever 

BAT WEN NING 

wns face when lwj comes into wwx room like ‘:0 omg did u two finally get your shit together? good for you master wei good for u’ 

(they didnt) (yet)

DISASTER DRUNK LWJ. JUST. THRUST SOME CHICKENS TO SHOW UR RESSURECTED BAE THAT U LOVE THEM.

i have absolutely no idea WHY they gave lwj the same punishment for fighting his own sect/allies to protect the burial mounds as when they got drunk on cloud recess class days.... like? its such a ... emotional continuity error again

also is lwj gonna get an actual friend besides wwx , ever

mianmian marrying and having a family and a cute life after saying FUCK U AND UR SYSTEM TOO in a much less unhinged and dramatic way than wwx......... fills me w joy

also lol the idea that like. her husband not knowing that shes friends w satan/the boogey man/the village witch is hilarious

i love nie mingjue bc hes the resident Though Guy but also the most dramatic bitch in this show and thats Saying Something

jin ling cant have one uneventful relative can he

the fact that everyone present already knew “mo xuanyu” was wwx at the stairs is so funny, their faces are like ‘oh............ wow. that. sure is a development. shock” 

in the tradition of extremely loud whispers wwx tells lwj with twelve guards standing like one meter away from them: HEY PSH LAN ZHAN PRETEND IM FORCING YOU TO STAY W ME DO IT

oh my god oh my god

the absolute Yearning on his face when he leaves wwx and a-yuan at the burial mounds and refuses to stay for dinner was already Enough but the fact?? they brought it back?? to this declaration of love?? their expressions??????? strike me dead right now just go ahead

lFor Legal Reasons We Cant Kiss but we will have a very sappy declaration of love and trust and look at each other in way that is the actualization of 💞💘💗💖💓💘💞💗💖💘💗💖💕💞

also icb all the sect leaders and guards are standing there watching them say they like like each other with a dozen swords pointing at their neck

i enjoyed the depiction of the fickle public perception and how easily it can be used to scapegoat people. when the sect leaders turn on jgy and wwx knows thats its more for convenience than anything else...

poor lxc is literally like 'oh so when YOUR problematic boyfriend gets called evil its a misunderstanding but when its MY problematic bf-'

ok like i cant get over nmj let jgy play a song that messed with his temperament at all, like maN u KNEW he might be shady wth

wwx: “hey dont say anything bad abt lan zhan hes not an arrogant dick, thats just his face. 

ME ON THE OTHER HAND"

the cultivators as wwx is poking holes in their narrative is literally *nazaré meme*

"wei wuxian-!" "what did i break your leg, too?" not to be problematic but i laughed so hard

not as hard as "you dont have the rank to talk to me " tho

i Enjoy that, over the course of story, wwx sees that... theres nothing truly to Do, but move on. he saw how his arrogance and his mistakes hurt others, and hes trying to fix what he can, but he already did die for his mistakes and there are things he cant fix and that's. just how it is. even towards jgy, the narrative doesn't go gleefully and completely with "lets make THEM pay bc theyre the big bad" bc its not that simple, and it wouldn't lead anywhere but more pain...

re him and jiang cheng and the wens and kinda. isnt that what nhs did? scheming to displace jgy out of revenge more than any justice and doing so in the most painful way?

idk if that actually makes sense im truly just babbling

i thought the scene at the lotus pond would be CUTE but the context was PAIN again

jiang cheng finding out about his golden core and his conflict with wwx at the guanyin temple .... destroyed me but in a nice way kinda.... same way it destroys him look at his face oh god

and. the fact??? he sacrificed himself for wwx?? first?? and he'll probably never tell anyone much less wwx???? keeps me up at night

i havent decided if the neckbreak transition between jgy does sth super Evil or does he he does OR Does He yes he does O R does heeeee is sth i dislike or not

jin guangyao and wei wuxians most interesting parallel is that... theyve both seen 'hmm hey this system is fucked up' and wwx went 'so fuck it all i will renounce it and challenge it' and jgy went 'so fuck it i will use all of it to my advantage and manipulate it to my goals and whims'

the fact jgys mom was actually great and he loved her and his whole issue w it was more than simply being ashamed of being a bastard kinda got me ngl

never trust a dude with a fan.

nhs and jgy: the first rule to a convoluted and decades spanning violent revenge plot is to have fun and be yourself! 

when a-yuan finally FINALLY remembers ;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;-;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;; wen ning has someone in his family back and a-yuan has someone to talk abt his wen family and wwx has him back bc he survived and lwj raised him anD HES THEIR SON. THEYRE MARRIED AND HAVE A SON. UGH.

and theyre allowed to heal. everyone is allowed to try and recover and be happy

netflix put all of the 3 endings on top of each other and it looks kinda weird actually BUT I DONT EVEN MIND :’’’’’’’’’)

the gasp that left me when lwj says ‘wei ying’ and wwx turns.........

there was also a screen with ‘thank you mxtx for creating these characters, we hope their wishes come true’ and i might. have cried then too. maybe. 

that was . a ride. as is proven by this behemot of a ramble clearly i just really needed and Outlet. i am currently trying to convince dumb monkey brain to not consume the other medias of mdzs immediately bc i REALLY need to like. live. a life. and take care of real responsibilities.  *longest oh boi ever*

[dramaticviolincrescendo]

Okay, what are your thoughts on Ian's relationships? With his family, his boyfriends, and Mandy (since I think that's the only friend he's had)

Oh, no. Ohhhhhhhh, no. Now you’ve done it. You’ve asked about my dear, darling favorite character on the show. My love for one Ian Gallagher runs deep, which means this answer is going to run super long. The good, the bad, and everything in between—Ian Gallagher lives rent free in my brain and always will. I derive so much satisfaction from seeing Ian interact with other people, in whatever capacity that might be. I admire and aspire to the compassion he has shown for others over the years, even and perhaps most especially those who arguably haven’t earned it. He tries so hard to be good to people, and seeing their love for him manifest when he’s reached such lows where he can’t even fathom why the love of his life would want to be with him forever? That’s powerful.

So, yeah. I said I could write essays on these characters, and that’s exactly what you’re about to get: five hours and 6k words’ worth of my thoughts. (I am so sorry. There will be text walls.)

Let’s dive into Ian’s many and multifaceted relationships—his family, his friends, and his romantic pursuits.

Ian and Family

Ian told us where he stood on this in the very first season, and it set the standard for his character for eleven years to come. Faced with a prospect that others in his position could only dream of—not being Frank’s son and having a wealthy father with a functional, prosperous lifestyle mere miles away—Ian refused to buy into it. He refused to do what might have been objectively better for his future by seeking a relationship with Clayton. In that household, he would have had access to a better public school, more financial resources, a tutor to help him where he was struggling, and less urgency for him to work so that he could enjoy being a kid. When he got sick, he would have had access to better healthcare, too. Perhaps he would have had a better shot at West Point from that background than he did at home. But that’s just it: home was with his family, and he was very clear that they didn’t live in that nice house. All he wanted—all he wanted—was to be with his brothers and sisters. He has never referred to them as only half-siblings or half-cousins; he has never even used the words, “you’re not my dad,” on Frank. That’s his family, the people he loves most in the world, and he’s always been at his best when he’s with them and at his worst when he’s not. Let’s look at each of them:

1.      Frank: It is so striking to me that Ian doesn’t appear to hold the outright contempt for Frank that Fiona, Lip, and Debbie have exhibited at different points over the years. Aside from the handful of instances where they’ve gotten into physical altercations (which Frank always initiated) and kicking him out of the house on occasion, Ian is simply indifferent to him. But there are these moments, these brief glimmers of mutual attachment and loyalty, if those are the right words. In the scene where Ian famously doesn’t count to three before using the pepper spray on him, Frank starts saying how his New Gallaghers weren’t his real kids—that Ian is his real son, and Frank is his real father. It’s a passing thought uttered while trying to manipulate his way into the house that neither of them think much of, nor does the audience…until you remember that biologically, Frank isn’t his father, and he certainly hasn’t behaved like one either. Ian has more right than anyone to comment on that, but he doesn’t because Frank is his father. He’s the father that Ian idly hoped wouldn’t come to his wedding yet sat joking about with Debbie rather than getting pissed off that he was making out with some lady in front of everyone. He’s the father who sat at the table with them eating breakfast in 11x03 and claimed Mickey was the man in their relationship without Ian saying a word to him about it, and who Ian saw no issue with taking Franny to school when no one else could. In s4, as far removed from his family as he’d been for a while, Ian still went straight to the hospital when he heard that Frank was at death’s door. We focus so much on his attitude towards Monica because of how obvious it was that we frequently miss these tiny moments and their implications. It would take an awful lot of patience, compassion, and love not to write Frank off completely after all he’s done. Not necessarily our standard definition of love between a son and his father, perhaps, but a loving soul.

2.      Monica: I have actually written a pretty lengthy post about his relationship with her because while their shared mental illness definitely plays a role in his feelings toward her, that grew complicated far earlier than his diagnosis. The first time we meet her, we see that he has a visceral reaction to news of her presence. He runs. When Ian can’t process strong emotions, that’s what he’s done in the past. I happened upon an interview Cameron did just after the end of s1 where he mentioned something I had already been thinking: Ian’s age when Monica left is extremely important. He was a kid in s1, but one who could roll with the punches, sometimes literally. She left them two years before that. Ian would have been in middle school, roughly as old as Debbie was when she still called Frank “daddy” and forgave him for everything he did. It’s an awkward age that once again set Ian in something of a danger zone—too old to accept an excuse or no explanation at all, but not old enough to process the situation in a healthy way. And then she’s back all of a sudden with no warning. Ian doesn’t cry like Debbie, and he doesn’t typically get explosively angry like Fiona. He can’t deal, so he runs. He hangs back. He only speaks when he has to and compartmentalizes: Monica wants to take Liam, and they need to stop her. It doesn’t have to be about her leaving. They have a goal—he can focus on that. And then she’s back a year later, saying she’s here to stay while Fiona seems to take her at her word and Lip isn’t there to ground everyone. Ian tries so hard to behave like Lip would with his biting sarcasm and attempts to stay emotionally distant in a way that seemed pretty exaggerated for Ian, but he’s also dealing with a fresh wave of guilt over Mickey going to juvie—and Monica gets it. She’s the only person to acknowledge that he’s in pain and actively try to make it better. She’s the only one who really knows at the time, but that hardly matters. This poor kid, whose mother left him when he still needed her, has her standing in front of him and saying she’s sorry and listening when he speaks and taking him dancing—just the two of them. Embarrassing as it was and harmful as it could have been, she tried to facilitate his dreams when no one else wanted him to go into the military. She was there for him when he went AWOL. She came for him when he was arrested and even wanted to make a place for him in her new life, unrealistic as it was. This goes so much deeper than them both being bipolar. Ian’s comment about her parachuting into their lives in s7 wasn’t about Mickey or her role in them breaking up. He trusted her. He wanted her. He needed her. And she’d convinced him that she would be there—until she left. Over and over again. She was there for him and unintentionally took advantage of how desperately he still needed his mother. She made him keep loving her, and that’s both a blessing that has him crying into a voluminous man’s arms when she passes and a curse that wrecked him more than once.

3.      Fiona: The trust these two have for each other cannot be understated. Fiona has discussed things with Ian that she never brought up around any of the other kids throughout the entire series. In the pilot episode, she tells him about feeling needed and takes his opinion on the matter to heart. At the end of the season, he’s the one she talks to about the car because she can trust him to give her an answer even without speaking. In s2, she tells Lip that the two of them are her rocks, and we see that time and time again. That’s part of what makes their falling out over the church hit that much harder: it’s Ian and Fiona. The only time they’d been on the outs in any serious manner up to that point was when Ian was adjusting to his new reality and they were trying to find a balance between sister and caretaker. Otherwise, that bond of trust had never been severed—not until Ian literally sold himself only for it to amount to nothing in the end because she had no idea the lengths to which he’d gone to get that building. That damage gets mended, thankfully, but what a powerful period of time when those two were the only ones who’d never really been at each other’s throats. There is a downside to that trust, though. As I mentioned before, Ian was so responsible and put together when he was younger that Fiona didn’t think twice about his situation with Ned or that he ran away. Not even seventeen yet, and she was telling Debbie that she didn’t like his decision to leave but trusted him. That is one of the things I love about this show—even something like trust that we always prop up as an important factor in our relationships can betray us in the most unexpected ways.

4.      Lip: I won’t go into it here, but the relationship they share is something that means a lot to me on a personal level. It’s part of how I knew that Ian would become my favorite character pretty early on. The way he simultaneously admires and envies Lip, loves and is annoyed by him, relies on him and is desperate to pave his own path in the world—what a beautiful and accurate depiction of what it means to be a younger sibling. Lip is the first person to discover that he’s gay and openly accept him for it. (I think what he tried with Karen came from a well-meaning place even if it was horribly, horribly misguided.) Lip is the one who tries to get him into West Point, hate it as he does. He helps Ian when Terry is after him, takes care of him in the aftermath of the wedding when he realizes just how deeply Ian feels for Mickey, searches the whole damn city for him when he finds out that Ian is in trouble, gets him a job, leans on him in his own time of need… He’s not perfect. He slips up, just like Ian does. Some things break my heart, like Lip insisting that he’s earned his own space when his little brother is asking him for safe harbor or Ian thanking him for being his brother outside the prison. But they love each other so much, and I just… I can’t possibly put into words how much I love their dynamic.

5.      Debbie, Carl, and Liam: I’m grouping these three together because they’re further separated from Ian in age, so we see a lot of the same trends with them as a whole. Ian loves taking care of people. We know this. We also know that Fiona and Lip don’t typically want him taking care of them—they’re the ones who take care of him when he needs it, specifically Lip. With the younger three, however, Ian can be the Big Brother. He can shake his head in utter bafflement at Debbie’s obsession with holding her breath for two minutes, walk Carl through what he needs to go camping, and promise his baby brother postcards when he leaves. The difference here is that his relationship with them is so much less fraught with conflict. We don’t see him fight with Debbie, Carl, or Liam the way he has with Fiona or Lip. While Ian tends to be the voice of reason during conflicts overall, I think it’s also because he relies on his older siblings in a way that he doesn’t with his younger siblings, and the latter don’t tend to rely on him as much as Fiona or Lip as well. There’s a lack of tension in most of their interactions growing up because that pressure isn’t there. Perhaps this is where Ian’s age and standing in the family is a bit more beneficial: young enough to have people he can rely on while too young for anyone to really rely on him for more than his share of the squirrel fund.

Ian and Friends

I’ve seen it mentioned that Ian (and Mickey) not having more friends is bad or lazy writing. I tend to believe that that fails to take something into account that, admittedly, most of us don’t really have to think about: having friends is a luxury. It requires time and effort to cultivate friendships, especially lasting ones. As a kid, Ian spent a lot of his free time working or helping to manage one family crisis after another. Going AWOL, losing his health, struggling to acclimate to his illness, trying to find a new career path, spiraling into the Gay Jesus movement, going to prison, adjusting once again to normal life, getting married, a pandemic… I’m sure he’s had plenty of acquaintances over the years, but having a family to support and constant upheavals would have made it extremely difficult to really forge strong relationships with them. I think that’s part of what makes his relationship with Mandy so special and valuable to him: she’s sort of the same way.

When we met Mandy in s1, she had other friends. We saw her meet up with them and go shopping; she told Ian a story about how one was mad at her for not sharing her make-up. As the trauma in the Milkovich household reached its zenith for her in s2 and she started thinking seriously about getting out of there, we saw those friends fall by the wayside—all except Ian. He saw her and let her see him early on. That’s a level of trust and respect that nobody else in their neighborhood would have displayed, certainly not to her. But then there’s this guy who defended her against their creepy, perverted teacher and treated her like a human being, not an object. It’s no wonder she developed an obvious, unrequited crush and sought physical comfort from him occasionally. It’s no wonder she tried to repay the favor by giving Mickey a hard time in s3 and s4, misguided and rather uninformed as we know it was at the time. (It’s also no wonder that she went for the closest Gallagher to Ian, either, but that’s for another meta.)

And Ian… Ian is loyal to a fault. We have watched Ian cut out his own heart and let the blood drip down his arm to pool on the floor at his feet if it would make a damn bit of difference for the people he loves. Like Fiona and Lip, Mandy immediately accepted him for who he is and suggested an arrangement that would protect him as well as benefit her. That is enormous where they came from. To him, that had to feel like the ultimate sign of friendship: he could trust her with a part of him that he hadn’t even entrusted to most of his family yet. From that point on, she was on the List of People Ian Gallagher Would Do Anything For. Finding out about Terry and what had happened? He held a bake sale, of all things, to fundraise for her. Seeing that his brother—his best friend—was treating her like garbage? He put him in his place. Her boyfriend was beating her? He brought her home and made it his goal to find a safe place for her to stay, even if it ultimately didn’t work. She was going to move away from all of her meager support with that boyfriend? He didn’t just rally his own arguments—he brought in outside help with Lip, who he thought might tip the scales. It’s usually just a saying that true friends will help each other hide a body, but Ian literally tried to do that. Lucky for him, he has a good head on his shoulders and used it.

No, Ian doesn’t seem to have a lot of friends. We’ve seen that he has spheres of influence, if you will, and acquaintances that he can call upon when he needs them. (For example, the guys that helped with the preacher.) However, Ian has always struck me as a “quality over quantity” type of person. Being a soldier or an EMT isn’t lucrative, but they’re meaningful for someone who sees them as vehicles for helping people. Seeing more parts of the world than just Chicago has appealed to him in the past, but he seems perfectly content to carve out a spot for himself right here at home. Having only three best friends—Lip, Mandy, and Mickey—doesn’t seem like much of a hardship for him.

Ian and Romantic Pursuits

I hate to say that there were five, but from Ian’s perspective, there were. So, let’s talk about all five. Even though…there weren’t five. There was only one. We’ll save the best for last.

1.      Kash: The first of Ian’s perceived romantic pursuits that really wasn’t. I hope it goes without saying that I hate this man with the passion of a thousand burning suns. I hate him so much. However, their interactions taught me a whole lot about how kind and compassionate Ian really is—and how naïve. Of course, he would believe that Kash loved him. The man was buying him all sorts of expensive gifts, and that’s what we see on all the commercials and in so many movies, isn’t it? Grand gestures of affection through expensive gifts. Poor as they were, Ian still scraped together the money to buy him baseball tickets and CDs, convinced as he was that that was all part of what you did in a relationship. That desire to do things like a “normal” married couple in s11? Yeah, that starts here. Ian has always been a planner, and he’s always bought into certain stereotypes. We can see that here. What we can also see is Ian’s compassionate, kind, loving soul. He cares so deeply for other people, even ones that he doesn’t know very well, especially if they are living in circumstances that mean something to him. (For example, the mentally ill woman they tried to help at work and the shelter kids whose situations were so similar to Mickey’s.) Kash being a closeted gay man living in misery with a wife he didn’t love and two children he never meant to have clearly tugged at Ian’s heartstrings. Even after everything that happens, even though Ian behaves as though they’re awkward exes who just happen to work together, he still covers for Kash. He gives him that head start and takes it upon himself to break the news to Linda that he’s gone. He defends Kash to Lip when the latter finally says exactly what we all know: he was a pedophile who deserved to rot in prison for what he did. As with Fiona’s trust, Ian’s loving soul, compassionate heart, and desire for love outside his siblings are virtues that have done him harm in the past. This is one such instance.

2.      Ned: The second of Ian’s perceived romantic pursuits that really wasn’t. To be honest, I don’t believe that Ian would even characterize it that way. He seemed very aware that Ned was a distraction from his problems—from Mickey being in juvie, Monica falling into a depressive episode, the money in the squirrel fund being gone, Lip moving out, losing his shot at West Point, and getting denied for service due to his age. Again, though, Ian has always wanted to feel valued, and this rich dude was letting him stay in a fancy hotel room with anything he wanted readily available. This (disgusting predator) guy was giving him attention and a distraction with no strings attached. Then the complications roll in, and he’s once again faced with being the mistress to a closeted, married man. The difference here is that he’s not comfortable with it. He tries to tell Fiona twice, which is enormous for Ian when he has never been very good at communicating if it means burdening others with or even merely facing his own problems. But he tries to tell her. He rejects the GPS unit and tells Ned that he has a boyfriend, boxing him into a strictly sexual arrangement. (This, unfortunately, makes sense. It aligns with how Fiona viewed things: where Jimmy was concerned about it, she told him that it was “just sex.”) He is also visibly embarrassed to admit to Lip and Fiona what has been going on with Ned. By that point, Ian is a year and a half older and, while still scarred and warped in his views because of Kash, perhaps a bit wiser. Emotionally, he kept Ned at arm’s length most of the time. He used Ned not just as a distraction, but as a way to galvanize Mickey into taking their relationship a step forward. But Ian is still Ian, and Ian is compassionate to a fault. Ned played that card by asking if he could have a little understanding for a man whose life was falling apart. Sure, he can. He’s Ian, the Gallagher too empathetic for his own good at times. We know how that spirals out of control. It just goes to show that even when Ian was trying to maintain some emotional distance, his heart is simply too big and his perceptions too heavily impacted by the grooming he’d experienced with two different people by then, and so he [SPOILER ALERT] still feels enough of a connection to Ned after all these years to be mildly bothered that he passed away.

3.      Caleb: The third of Ian’s perceived romantic pursuits that really wasn’t. Ian’s relationship with Caleb strikes me as being similar to what he had with Ned. While more age-appropriate, Ian was very much using Caleb, just as Caleb was using him. That’s why it was so easy for both of them to walk away. Ian was in a difficult spot when they met. He was grateful to the firefighters who saved his life, but he had also just saved someone else at a moment when he was perhaps at his absolute lowest. That’s what he’s always wanted, isn’t it—to be a bit of a hero and help people? So, he’s understandably drawn there, first out of gratitude and then to be surrounded by very attractive gay firemen who helped people, saved his life, and invited him to be part of a function they were holding. But he made himself pretty clear from the start: he was interested in sex with Caleb. That was the draw. He still hasn’t come to terms with being bipolar and losing Mickey, but Ian has never not been with anyone for any extended length of time. That’s just who he is: he’s always sought some level of outward validation—from the army, Kash, Monica, Mickey, and so many others. We’re seeing him struggle with that now as he deals with the opportunities available to him as a mentally ill ex-con felon. So, he pursues Caleb as a distraction just like he did with Ned, only Caleb is a predator in his own right and can smell that his interest is coming from a place of weakness. He immediately (and initially unintentionally) preys on Ian’s desperate need for structure and order by insisting on a traditional date where Ian is very much out of his element and even goes so far as to instruct Ian on how to be intimate. It’s no wonder he mentions Mickey in these moments, as Mickey never wanted him to change, and Ian leans heavily (even slightly hyperbolically) into the fact that Mickey wasn’t a paragon of order and stability like Caleb outwardly appears. 

And I think why Ian puts up with it so long—being taught like a child, being used to upset Caleb’s parents, being paraded in front of his friends to make them jealous—is because he was getting something out of it too, just like with Ned. A stable place to live when their home ownership was in flux, a place away from his family when they weren’t providing the support he needed as he adjusted to his disorder, someone who validated his desires to help people regardless of their ulterior motives, and a physical distraction from his own problems. All of these parallel his relationship with Ned very closely. It was never going to last, of course. Ian is a strong person who temporarily forgot how strong he was because he forgot who he was, and Caleb didn’t want to be cared for—he wanted a project, like all of his sculptures. Being a project, being something that others see as needing to be fixed? That’s a hard no for Ian. It always has been. There’s a moment I love later in their relationship where Caleb tells him to turn off the lights when he goes out and lightly reprimands him for leaving one on the day prior. Ian is in a better place at that point, having regained a lot of his sense of self, and stares after him with indignation at being treated like a kid. He’s then lied to and cheated on, but I think that to mention those things to Caleb when they break up is to admit weakness on his own part—that he stuck with Caleb knowing that he was being mistreated, and Ian is not one to be called a victim. So, while we know from his discussions with Lip and Sue that the cheating and distrust bothered him most, he merely focused on Caleb lying about his sexuality, which removed a lot of the emotion from the situation—just like he did with Ned. It ultimately turned out to be a bad move since Caleb, being a skilled predator, made him question even his own sexuality in return, but we’re starting to see that Ian isn’t here to be someone’s toy anymore. Not an older, married man like Ned, but definitely not anyone his age either. I’m glad this pseudo-relationship happened because it showed Ian how strong he really was and that he could be in control of his own life. Sure, it destabilized him a little in the aftermath, but he worked through it. He leaned on his family, specifically Lip, who has always been his rock without the blurred lines that Fiona represented between sister/mother-figure/caretaker. Caleb is a garbage person, but Ian was the one who pulled the treasure from the trash, not him.

4.      Trevor: The fourth of Ian’s perceived romantic pursuits that really wasn’t. Trevor is perhaps the first relationship where we don’t see Ian dive in. Whether that’s because of his confusion over Trevor’s gender identity or the fact that he was really beginning to fully mature as an adult by that point (ostensibly finishing his education, getting a career, being fully self-sufficient, etc.), he tried to take his time and not jump right in. They hung out, talked around the neighborhood, and yes, engaged in some casual intimacy at the club. Again, Ian might not be in a full relationship, but he’s never without someone for long. At that point in the series, all he was missing was a relationship when it comes to traditional, “normal” goals for people to have. But Trevor posed a situation he’s never been in before since, while gay himself, Ian has never been very interested in activism or engaging in the LGBT community. It’s just not in his culture or environment, so to be faced with someone he’s interested in that challenges a lot of his views of gender and sexuality is something he takes his time with. Unfortunately, Trevor is younger than him and not quite as mature, not quite as experienced. He tells Ian he has plenty of friends and doesn’t need another, which is an ultimatum that has never really sat very well with me personally because I’m generally of the mind that if a person needs time and you really care for them, you’ll let them have that time. I’m not unsympathetic to Trevor: he’s been burned before and has his own trauma stemming from responses to his identity, so it makes complete sense for him not to be patient in this regard. He shouldn’t have to be—but then, Ian shouldn’t have to rush into anything he’s not 100% certain he wants either. That’s exactly what he does, though, because Ian does for others without thinking of the implications for himself a lot of the time. They make great friends, but they don’t make great partners. Trevor treats Ian similarly to Caleb in that he’s a bit of a project. Trevor educates him on the LGBT community and incorporates him into his ventures for the shelter without ever really showing much interest in Ian’s life or family, which suits Ian just fine because for as interested as he is in helping with the shelter and as attracted to Trevor as he is, he seems to know they’re not compatible. Ian, who has been having sex since he was far too young, takes a step back from it when they run into compatibility issues. (And pushes back on the pressure to bottom with some of his own—neither of them were in the right on that.) He doesn’t ask much about Trevor’s family or try to be part of his personal life. They sort of embody the “friends with benefits” stereotype: they hang out, they have sex, and that’s really all there is to their relationship. 

The reason Ian doubles down on trying to make it work isn’t because there was a future for them before Mickey broke out. It’s because he thinks he’s lost Mickey forever, he knows he’s lost Monica forever, and he’s not going to get the support he needs from his family when they couldn’t stand Monica and Fiona told him what he already knew to be true, namely that Mickey being an escaped convict would destroy everything Ian worked so hard for if he got involved. So, he does what Ian does. He needs that distraction—he needs to run from these strong emotions he can’t process, so he bottles them up and unfairly hopes that Trevor will provide some of that comfort after cheating on him with Mickey. (Had Mickey been released, I think they would have broken up. Instead, that was the first match Ian lit, but certainly not the last.) Now, the thing is, Trevor said at the start that he didn’t want to be Ian’s friend. He’s also younger and less mature in a relationship, which means he threw the concept of love out there prematurely, just like Ian thought what he had with Kash was love. The death throes of their relationship were a back and forth where Ian was spiraling and seeking comfort, and Trevor was providing some while keeping their relationship pretty amorphous. (Were they exes? Were they friends? Were they people who shared interests and danced around each other? Were they going to get back together? They never officially broke up—it fizzled and resurged, then fizzled for good.) Ultimately, whatever it was that they had couldn’t survive Mickey, Monica, or Gay Jesus. Trevor wasn’t prepared to deal with a full-blown manic episode, and based on his hands-off approach with involving himself in Ian’s life even before the Mickey-shaped bomb got dropped on them, it doesn’t seem like he really wanted to anyway. He did what he’s always done: prioritized his shelter, which I’m not deriding in the slightest. By that point, Ian was too far gone to care that he disappeared anyway. Had the situation been different and he was getting the support from his family that he needed, it doesn’t seem like he would have cared much there either.

5.      Mickey: Finally. Only took over five thousand words to get here. I’ll preface this with something that anyone who knows me from other fandoms is already well aware of, namely that I don’t do romance. Ever. Never been interested. The relationships I’ve always been most passionately interested in are platonic ones, especially “found families” and siblings, which is probably obvious from the other five thousand words here. Ian and Mickey are the first relationship I’ve actively shipped or written for in a fandom. They’re the first I’ve been invested in to this extent. As such, one of the biggest pet peeves I had when I first joined this fandom was the saying, “Ian fell first, Mickey fell harder.” These two wonderful dumbasses face planted on the concrete in front of the Kash and Grab in s1 and never recovered. I could go on forever about these two, but that particular wall of text would probably be too daunting for even the most avid Gallavich stan to traverse, so I’ll keep it fairly brief. As we can see above, Ian has a very strict sense of what he “should” want in a partner. Someone who is moderately successful in their chosen field, makes enough money to at least live comfortably, and typically does something that helps other people (a doctor, a fireman, a youth counselor). These aren’t passionate people. They’re not men who operate on instinct the way most of the people in his life have always had to by virtue of their social standing. They have life goals and opportunities that he envies, and Ian has a great deal of compassion for them when they hit a roadblock or things don’t work out. The amazing dichotomy of Ian Gallagher is that he straddles a line most people can’t between the rough neighborhood that has instilled in him all of his values/behaviors and the middle-class mentality of pulling yourself up by your bootstraps and aspiring to more. Ian has always aimed for what Lip said wasn’t possible for poor people: being successful without having to scam or steal. But as I said way back at the beginning of this manifesto, the South Side is his home. His family is his family. And none of the people he’s been with personify the South Side quite like Mickey—they don’t personify home like Mickey. 

And I think that’s where the initial draw for Ian is. (I’m going to focus on Ian’s side since he’s who your question focused on.) The other guys look great on paper, and Ian’s brain says that that’s what he should aim for. We know better, though. We know that Ian has an enormous heart that belongs first and foremost to his family and their home. His heart says that this person—this dirty, rude, mean, violent person—is home. His heart says this person is everything about himself that he denies having, just like Ian was everything about Mickey that the latter declined to openly acknowledge for so long. I don’t like relationships built on “making each other better.” I really don’t. The wonderful thing about this is that it’s never been that way. Ian didn’t change Mickey. He’s exactly who he’s always been, but he’s grown past the fear of his own emotions and Terry’s response to them. He’s still a thief, a con artist, violent, and rude. Mickey didn’t change Ian either. He’s still rigidly conforming to certain stereotypes of what he thinks he should want, seeking structure (to his own detriment at times), and not a great communicator. The point for them is that they complement each other, not that they make the other a better person—not even that they bring something out of each other that wasn’t already there. That’s what Ian’s other relationships did. They made him shave off his edges so that he could fit a square peg into a round hole, and that’s not happiness. It’s simply what he thought he was supposed to do—what “normal” people did. 

With Mickey, he doesn’t have to worry so much about what is normal or acceptable. He doesn’t have to worry about whether or not his life is objectively “on track,” not until fairly recently. Mickey is the only person he’s ever been with who has accepted him for who he is, faults and strengths alike, without the underlying insinuation that he should be aiming for something else or pretending to be whatever the other person needs him to be in order to care for them. Kash needed an escape—Ian provided it. Ned needed a very specific brand of toy—Ian played that role. Caleb needed a project to feel fulfilled—Ian went along with it for a bit. Trevor needed someone who accepted him as he was but did things his way—Ian did that. To care for Mickey has only ever meant being himself because all Mickey ever really needed was him. Mickey didn’t need an escape from his home—his relationship with his family is more complicated than that. Mickey didn’t need to be saved from his upbringing—it’s what made him the person Ian fell in love with and who he is happy to be. Mickey didn’t need someone to change who he is on a fundamental level because unless it is going to get him into trouble and separate them, Ian never wanted him to. (Even then, it’s about what he does, not who he is.) And yes, I’m sure that there’s a level of excitement that Ian finds exhilarating where Mickey is concerned, but I tend to believe it goes a lot deeper than that. What he finds exciting about Mickey is what Mickey embodies about the South Side—about home. About his own upbringing, but also Ian’s. About Frank and Monica, his siblings, school, work, ROTC—existing and surviving in an environment where it’s not guaranteed that you’ll have money to keep the heat on this winter or feed your family. They spent the early seasons living in a constant state of fight or flight. They couldn’t afford not to. And there’s excitement in that. Look at how many people say that the first seasons are their favorite! There hasn’t been a huge shift in the quality or direction of the writing, just the trajectory of the characters. They’ve gotten older, and their problems have been different. It’s not about survival so much of the time anymore, but those are the storylines that excite us. For Ian, that exhilaration in the constant battle of survival in their neighborhood is sewn into the fiber of his being just like it is Mickey’s. He saw his home in Mickey before they truly fell in love, and when that followed, Mickey became home.

In Conclusion

Ian has spent his entire life looking for the “right” path only to realize that it was laid before him: his family, his small circle of friends, and Mickey. I love that that is coming full circle this season, where [SPOILER ALERT] marriage has almost made him regress a bit to that place where there must be a right way of doing things going forward, and slowly but surely, we’re seeing him loosen up.

Good morning. It’s Ian Gallagher loving hours.

[beautifulweird0]

Forgiving Your Parents

I know too many people who’ve experienced some form of trauma from their parents. This isn’t a blog about bashing your folks- this is hopefully a post that will help salvage some strained parent and child relationships. Cause I been there, done that-and understanding your parent is only feasible if your parent is interested in understanding you.

My disclaimer is this: The child isn’t responsible for mending the relationship...solely. I’mma tell you like this, if your parent doesn’t want anything to do with you...skip em’.

   Because that’s backwards as hell and that takes away from loving yourself. Anyway you chop it, if you find yourself forcing yourself on a “parent”, the relationship isn’t going to go anywhere-AND THAT’S NOT YOUR FAULT OR CONCERN. YOU’RE BEAUTIFUL! YOU ARE EXTREMELY WORTHY. I’m so sorry your people ain’t solid; it’s a reflection of them-not you.

It’s my belief that something is wrong with a person if they want no parts of having a relationship with their child. Literally so messed up from their own unhealed traumas that they can’t find it within themselves to love someone they created…

Ain’t no fixing on that unless you take they ass to a therapist.

Moving on.

I’ve always had such a strong feeling in my gut when I come across new people. It’s like they look at me and think I got it all. Truly looking at me and seeing a woman who doesn’t have insecurities or childhood traumas spotted along her path cause I’m kind and always make it a point to smile like Granny told me.

    I’m usually a private person. But its always been that ‘pull’ on me-telling me… “It’s another little girl that is going through the same stuff you went through. Say that shit anyway. And with your chest.” .

Think about it...

Can’t a soul embarrass you about some stuff you open about. That takes all the fun out of their miserable lives if folks know wassup already.

    So as a 22 year old woman that been through some mess with her people, let me share pieces of me. Cause the last thing you want on your conscience is one of your parents passing and ya’ll not being on the best of terms.

I was listening to Mad Bitches the other day and Mikhala Jene said something along the lines of, “Nobody living is perfect”.

That hit me a little different. Like damn...nobody walks this earth perfect so...why do we expect perfection (again, subconsciously).

THIS.

   This is why I say if your parent is trying, then work with them. If they sit down with you and tell you how life was for them coming up. The good parts, the ugly parts, and everything in-between. Trying their best to be authentic and build a bond, then meet em’ halfway (if they haven’t been on some stuff that’s just unforgivable).

And shit, our people ain’t have everything at their fingertips as we do. The apps that spread information quicker than you could sneeze, weren't available. They couldn’t go on a ‘self-care’ page to calm themselves down if triggered or go on YouTube and watch motivational videos. Not making excuses, just using a little perspective that helps me! Yet and still, let your parent(s) know if they did something to wrong you; you gotta’ have respect for yourself as a human. Period.

   I didn’t find out who my biological father was until I was about 16 years old. Up until that point I believed another man was my father (which he is still and will always be!).

Sooo...I already had abandonment issues from my parents and my dad lived in a way at that time, that all parties involved thought it was best my grandparents took us in. That’s all I know is Granny’s (& Grandpa’s) house since I was a baby.

    It helped that when my mom told me who my biological dad was, she was in a much better state of mind and stable-but man...I didn’t know what to feel. My sister was more upset than me (cause we have the same dad hypothetically).

     So many questions ran through my head that I couldn’t even cry or be mad. I was shocked. Everyone played their role so well…

There was a long road ahead of me. Not only did I have to forgive my mom and dad for lying to me for so long, but there was a father in the same city I had yet to know.

My first point is patience. If you aren’t going to be patient with an end goal for you and your parent, you’re wasting your time. Being prepared for them to fumble sometimes is mandatory if y’all going to get to a better place. You mess up on certain projects or what have you’s a few times before you get it right...right?

Give your parent the same energy if you were in their shoes. Cause baby...ain’t nothing worse than admitting your wrongs and still getting beat down. I couldn’t bring myself to be mad at my mom in that moment where she was vulnerable and upset cause she knew she played a part in hurting me. What was it gone do but make me feel bad and her feel worse?

     Blowing up wasn’t going to change what happened now 22 years ago.

Yeah, there’s hella’ books on parenting but I’mma tell y’all like my Granny told me, “There’s no such thing as a book on how to be a parent.”.

Having a child of my own- I’ve been witness to this. Folks can be shown and folks can be told on how to do certain things but with each child being different in this world, you have to be intune with them specifically- no book on that.

I was through hell and back with my mother and now we’re in an extremely better place because we both made the effort (more-so on her part 🌚).

But it was my responsibility to go into it with pure intentions and my guard down a bit after she made the effort; disappointment is what I expected sometimes cause I went into it knowing it was going to be a process.

Don’t get it confused,  my mom always knew how I was-that wasn’t the issue. The new end goal was getting to know each other again so I could understand her better so I could forgive her. That’s no sucka’ shit. Its real. Everybody in this life is going to disappoint you, one way or another. Better to know what you’re dealing with so you can assess the situation in order to better assess the person. Free game.

Another step to keep in mind is, boundaries. I just feel like it will make the whole exchange smoother-not easier- but smoother. The point of forgiving your parents and (if you chose) trying to build a relationship, is to have them know you for who you are NOW. Not when you were 5, not when you was 12...have them meet you at your level. They dropped the ball, not you. Sure...nobody asked to be here but that becomes invalid when you start having babies of your own. It’s a different ball game when you bring a life into this world. Your joys become the joy of your children but way too often we forget that our pain becomes theirs as well.

My father always tried too-the dad that I always knew as my dad. On weekends me and my sister would go to his house before he moved to Michigan. Man I was a daddies girl-still am. My grandparents had the house on lock, couldn't watch programs with cussing in it or too much violence. Life of having Southern Baptist grandparents I guess.

 The weekends at pops house was always interesting. I could watch all the music videos I wanted and watch the movies that didn't have too much goin on in them.

My dad would do different stuff with us like go to the library; he always knew I loved reading. Sometimes my dad would take us to the park or a friends house who had kids (how I met my husband), water parks, or even cooking dinner with me and my sister; plenty of quality time where I could talk to him about anything.

However, at the time, pops lived a certain lifestyle and no matter how hard he tried to shield it from us younger kids, I still seen things and experienced things a child shouldn't have. Again, comes with the lifestyle I guess.

My dad drunk...ALOT. And it was interesting to see the 'upsides' of alchoholism and the very big downsides. I'd never forget, I was maybe 8? Another weekend at my dads, just me and my sister (I have multiple brothers on that side too plus another sister), and I woke up one morning on the couch. My dad was goin through some things- all he had was a couch that he let me and my little sister sleep on. My 1st thought when I woke up was where was my dad sleeping? My sister was sleep, and it was still fairly early in the morning. I go back to the empty bedroom to find him sleep on the floor. No pillow. No cover. Just a beer in hand, laid out. That broke my heart.

Just remember feeling sad all over. I took the beer, threw it away then grabbed the pillow I had and laid it under his head. While doing so, my dad woke up, halfway and kissed my hand.

He told me straight up he loves me and he apologized. Didn't go into detail but he didn't have to. My dad never had his pops in his life, nor his mama until he was grown and was taking care of her though her illness.

I knew even at 8 years old that, that gotta hurt. I'm not gone sit here and act like I always understood the motives of my father but I tried because he always tried to understand me and til' this day, he is one of the top 3 people that KNOWS me like the back of his hand.

I had to forgive my parents because they’ve come a long way. Holding all that anger and resentment wasn’t gone help me in the long run. And in a way I can say I've helped to heal them by loving them through their screw ups. We always talk about a parents love but what about a child's love?

I don’t want to pass down my pain to my son, he don’t need that- the world will give its fair share. But everyday I pray that the world won’t hurt him bad. I want my son to be nothing less than strong mentally, emotionally, but most of all spiritually. He won’t have that unless I’m solid. So I ask myself… ‘hm, what’s still hurting me?’.

We all got a story to tell.

Love. Peace. Manifest.

[thesassenachswiftie]

Lover - Chapter 13: “Soon You’ll Get Better”

Read on AO3

Chapter 1 // Chapter 2 // Chapter 3 // Chapter 4 // Chapter 5 // Chapter 6 // Chapter 7 // Chapter 8 // Chapter 9 // Chapter 10 // Chapter 11 // Chapter 12

Summary: Claire and Jo go Christmas shopping; Claire gets a call at work that Lamb’s in the hospital in Boston where she fears she will need to spend the holidays without Jamie. In short: angst, but make it festive.

" This won't go back to normal, if it ever was It's been years of hoping, and I keep saying it because 'Cause I have to

Ooh-ah, you'll get better..."

CW: cancer, hospitals, illness of a loved one,

Notes: First of all, if you’re still here, thank you for reading, and thank you for bearing with me as I took a small hiatus. Hopefully I will be getting back to a more regular posting schedule, but work is really draining right now and it’s hard to find enough hours in the day to do everything. 

As you know, each Chapter of this fic is based off a Taylor Swift song by the same name. This one was particularly difficult to write/approach because I actually haven’t listened to this song in over a year. In early Summer 2019, a tumor was found on my grandfather’s brain. This was also the summer I discovered Outlander, and the summer Taylor Swift released Lover. The day after Lover came out, I broke down sobbing in my apartment listening to this song and thinking about my grandfather, knowing his condition was worsening. That night, I recieved the call that my grandfather had passed. He was the kindest, purest soul and I write this chapter in part as a tribute to him. Many of the experiences Claire and Lamb share are based on my own experiences with my grandpa that summer, and this version of Lamb is very much based on my Grandpa Jim. 

That being said, you may want to grab a box of tissues before reading, but hopefully not all your tears will be sad. I’m hoping to post again before Chistmas, but in case I don’t Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays--and Happy Hanukkah to any Jewish readers I may have--here is a Hanukkah present for you!

 Chapter 13: “Soon You’ll Get Better”  

         “All I want for Christmas is yooouuuuu” the sounds of Mariah Carey rang out throughout the small boutique gift shop in the heart of the village of Northport.

           “Good God, we’re only a week into December and I swear I’ve already heard this song three hundred times. I’m not exaggerating either. Two hundred and eight-four at the very least.” Jo scoffed exasperatedly.

           “Are you complaining?” Claire asked in reply. “It’s a great song--a classic really.”

           “Do you know how many incredible, amazing, beautiful, jolly Christmas songs there are in existence?” Jo was gearing up for one of their famous rants, “Yet, the radio stations only ever play the same eighteen songs, I swear!”

           “It must be more than eighteen.”

           “Fine. Twenty. Take this song for instance: Ingrid Michaelson has the most hauntingly beautiful cover of it--do you ever hear it? No! You only ever hear Mariah!”

           “I, for one, like Mariah!” Claire interjected, playfully defensive.

           “Who doesn’t? But she’s not the only powerhouse female vocalist out there! I’d just like to see a little diversity in my holiday music, is that so much to ask?”

           Claire giggled. Her best friend always had an opinion on everything and she loved them all the more for it. “Do you think Jenny would like this candle?” Claire unscrewed the lid a locally-made jar candle, taking a sniff before placing it under Jo’s nose. It smelled like Lavender and Sage with just a hint of Eucalyptus.

           “Does Jenny keep a lot of candles around, with all those children?” Jo chuckled back. “It does smell nice though.” Jo had only met Jenny a couple times when visiting Claire, but they had a knack for reading people and Claire was glad to have them along as a shopping partner.

           “I suppose candles aren’t really her thing. Jenny seems very practical, but I don’t know what she would need that she doesn’t already have, and Jamie’s been no help!”

           “I think you’re on the right track with the self-care/relaxation vibe, but maybe not something the children can use to burn the house down. What about an artisanal lotion set?” Jo inquired, gesturing at a nearby display.

           “Oh that might work!” Claire took a squirt from the bottle labeled ‘tester’ inhaling deeply as she rubbed it between her palms. “Ooo that’s nice, I would appreciate this if I were a hardworking mother.”

           “If things keep going the way they are with your man, LJ, you might just be before you know it” Jo made a lewd gesture with their hands, raising their eyebrows to make it clear exactly what they were implying.

           “Jo! You’re terrible” Claire shrieked, smacking her friend playfully on the arm. Besides, not much of that happening these days if you haven’t noticed, Jamie is literally across the ocean.”

           “Well, at least you can’t get knocked up from phone sex,” Jo replied. “What are you getting him anyway? I’m thinking something lacy and strappy, with little bows on it of course, to be festive. There’s a place down the street that might have something like that.”

           “Hmm” Claire exhaled. “We’ll see.” Claire knew lingerie was definitely going to be part of Jamie’s Christmas gift, one she would be most excited for him to unwrap. God, she missed him. It had been over a month and they were settling into a routine, video chatting every night, sweet texts back and forth throughout the day, the occasional phone sex when they were both sick with desire for one other--but nothing was the same as the feel of their bodies pressed against each other in the heat of the moment, chasing each other’s climax. Claire couldn’t wait to be reunited with him in every way.

           It was two days before Christmas break, only a few days left until Claire would find freedom for the next ten days and, most of all--the comfort of Jamie’s arms. Claire was sitting in her school nurse’s office, inhaling deeply during the first quiet moments she’d had all week. There was an uptick of student visits in the past couple weeks--a few were legitimate concerns tied to cold and flu season: students whose parents sent them to school when they weren’t quite well enough, overachievers who wanted to maintain their perfect attendance dragging themselves to school despite their bodies protestations. Most of her patients however, were suffering from something much more insidious: the eagerness to start their winter break early by skipping their classes. This time of year the air of the school felt different, students and teachers alike were burnt out, apathetic, and ready for a break. This attitude in the students fed into the teachers’ attitudes--overworked with the end of the marking period, trying to squeeze in Christmas shopping and decorating between grading. Claire did not envy Jo nor any of the other teachers during this time, but their exhaustion was so palpable in the air of the school that she was starting to feel it too. By tomorrow, most teachers would be shutting their doors and playing a holiday film, giving up on instruction all together--hopefully that would make for a quiet day for Claire. Really, if she could just get through the rest of the day it would be smooth sailing until Christmas--until Jamie.

           Her silent musings were broken by the blaring sound of her office phone. She was expecting a teacher, calling to send a student down, but instead it was the school clerk, Glenda. “Hi Nurse Beauchamp, we have an outside call for you, it seems like it may be a personal call so if there’s any students with you we can send someone down to watch them if you’d like to take it privately here in the office.”

           Claire's heart sank to her stomach. What could it be? She took a deep breath and swallowed to brace herself before replying “last student just left.”

           “Alright, I’ll transfer you now.” The click of the call transferring sounded through the phone.

           “Hello, this is Miss Beauchamp”

           “Hello Miss Beauchamp, I’m Tammy, a nurse at Mass General we’re calling because you’re listed as the emergency contact for Quentin Beauchamp” a nasally voice croaked through the phone speaker--the voice was impersonal like that of a cashier saying “have a nice day” for the thousandth time, not fitting of a potential harbinger of death.

           “Yes…” Claire replied, nervously, questioningly.

           “Mr. Lambert was admitted this morning after showing signs of cognitive distress. An initial cat scan shows a mass on his brain. He’s currently undergoing testing to see if it’s cancerous.”

           Claire’s lungs felt like they were about to collapse. Lamb had been diagnosed with prostate cancer several years ago, but had been able to live with it through treatment. Claire also knew that cancer was insidious and could spread throughout the body rapidly and without warning. She knew it was very likely that the mass was cancer. She tried to find her medical professional voice, but a diagnosis was different when it was someone you loved. Instead, she croaked out, “when will you know?”

           “We should have the results by tomorrow. He’ll stay here overnight for monitoring and we’ll decide whether to admit him long term from there.”

           “I’m on Long Island, should I drive up?”

           “I’m afraid it’s too soon to tell, it could be nothing, but--” Claire cut her off, knowing exactly how bad it could be.

           “I understand. I’ll drive up this evening.”

           “Alright, he should be back in his room by then, he’s out getting his tests done now. It’s room 713 when you get here.” Claire wrote the number on a bright blue sticky note on her desk as the nurse spoke. “Have a nice day Ms. Beauchamp”

           “Hmm” was all she could reply, as if she could possibly have a nice day. She hung up the phone, and finally let the deluge of tears she’d been holding back free.

She allowed herself to cry for a few minutes to get it out, but she knew she had to get to Boston as soon as possible. She picked up the phone again and dialed the main office.

“Hi Glenda, it’s Claire. I need to take the rest of the day off--I have to go to Boston, my uncle…” she couldn’t say it out loud for fear of unleashing the tears again “Is Principal Gowan there, I need to let him know.”

“Oh Nurse Beauchamp, I’m so sorry to hear that, let me know if you need anything. Mr. Gowan’s in his office, I’ll transfer you to him now, if he doesn’t answer just pack up your things and go, I’ll take care of it”

“Thanks Glenda, I really appreciate it”

----------

           After getting the ok from her kind and understanding principal, Claire rushed back to Jamie’s apartment, hastily packed a bag (likely forgetting several things), informed Jenny where she was going--which was met with sympathy and genuine concern--and hopped back in the car for the journey to Boston. She entered the hospital doors several hours later, the buttons of her coat were tangled in her hair as she rushed, breathless, to the front desk to receive her visitor’s pass.

           When she arrived at Lamb’s room, he was asleep. She didn’t want to wake him, but she gave his hand a reassuring squeeze to let him know she was there before settling into the armchair beside him to await his awakening. He looked so frail and small in the hospital bed, not at all like the strong, spirited man who had raised her. He had left the television on--some sports channel was playing a highlight reel of various golfing moments. No wonder Lamb fell asleep. Claire was staring at the screen, but her thoughts were elsewhere: worried about Lamb, wondering if she’d remember everything when she hastily packed, wondering what the future held. Would she have to spend Christmas in this hospital room? A golf ball soared across the Scottish Highlands on the screen. Jamie. Jamie was coming home Christmas Eve, she was supposed to pick him up from the airport, supposed to spend her holiday break with him, experience her first Hogmanay with the Murray family, be surrounded by love and laughter and family. Lamb was supposed to be fine, he was supposed to take the train down, spend Christmas with them. Every plan they had made was shattered into a million pieces. Would she even be able to see Jamie? She thought about the presents she’d bought for him, not yet wrapped, piled in the closet but definitely not hidden, especially considering it was his apartment. Of course he’d understand--she could tell him where they were, but the magic of unwrapping would be lost, it would feel entirely unsentimental. It was bad enough that she felt her gifts weren’t sentimental enough--what could she possibly get him to show how special he was to her? How could she communicate that with an object? If she were a painter she would paint him a painting, if she were a songwriter she would write him a song, but she was simply Claire, and practical gifts were all she knew. She had purchased a cozy blue sweater to match his eyes and keep him warm in the brisk London winters, a cool multi-tool the size of a credit card that would fit in his wallet and help him solve a variety of problems, a protective case for his phone, and a box of artisanal beef jerky.  She had also procured a complicated piece of lingerie with a big red bow across the chest for him to unwrap the night of Christmas, which she knew he would enjoy. Everything was thoughtful enough and mostly practical, but she longed to be able to give him something truly special--a grand gesture to match her feelings for him. Claire glanced back at her uncle and immediately felt guilty being so selfish. I hate to make this all about me. Lamb always had a knack for helping her realize what was important when life’s situations overwhelmed her. She needed him for perspective, but how could she talk to him about this? How could she tell him how she felt? She knew it was wrong, but she was mad at him for getting sick so close to Christmas. Who am I supposed to talk to? What am I supposed to do if there’s no you? The tears were welling up in her eyes as she watched her most beloved uncle sleep--hooked up to machines, pale and listless in the hospital bed.

           Claire slipped into the adjoining bathroom to try to compose herself--she didn’t want her uncle to wake up and see her upset, she knew he would try to comfort her, to be the rock he always had been for her. She was here to be his rock this time, she needed to stay strong for him. She looked at herself in the mirror, telling herself it was going to be ok--her uncle was strong and he’d been fighting a long time--he’d continue to fight. Soon you’ll get better. She had to convince herself it was true, pretend it wasn’t real, it wasn’t so bad. She knew it was a delusion, she could see it all over her glass face when she looked in the mirror. She was genuinely afraid that this could be when she lost him, if not physically right away, he could be lost mentally. She’d been hoping for years he would get better, but now it seemed he’d taken a turn for the worse. She took a few deep breaths and offered up a prayer. She wasn’t usually religious, but they say desperate people find faith, so she decided it was time to try. God? Jesus? Whoever is up there. I know I don’t much deserve anything from you, I’m not sure I’m exactly on good terms with you, but I’m inclined to believe you care and you are good. Besides, I’m not really asking anything for myself, not really. I just pray my Uncle is ok, I pray he gets better. He has to. Please don’t take his brilliant mind away from him. Please let him be ok. Please, I’ll be good, I’ll do whatever it takes to help him. Just please, please, don’t take him away from me. I need him. Please let him get better. Please let him get better. Claire continued to repeat the words like a mantra as she returned to her bedside chair. She stared at the collection of orange bottles on the tray table. Please let them help him get better. Please let him get better. Please, please, please let him get better.

           Claire had no idea how long she sat there, repeating those words to herself, but her silent appeal was interrupted when a nurse entered the room to check her uncle’s vitals.

           “Hi, I’m Brenda, I’ll be the nurse on duty tonight.” Brenda erased a name on a small whiteboard in front of the room and replaced it with her own.

           “I’m Claire, I’m his niece.”

           Brenda had made her way over to the other side of the bed and was checking the monitors beside the bed, making notes on the chart in her hand. “I hate waking them up, but I’m going to have to.” Claire was glad that she was much kinder than the nurse she had spoken with on the phone earlier—had that really been earlier? It seemed much longer since that phone call. “Excuse me, Quentin? Sir?” Brenda gently nudged his arm to awaken him. Lamb’s eyes fluttered open and he looked disoriented, Claire watched him carefully hoping that his disorientation was solely from being awoken mid-sleep and not from any neurological damage.

           “Hi Uncle Lamb” Claire stammered, hoping she sounded cheerful anyway.

           “Claire! My girl! You came all the way to see your old uncle!”

           “Of course I did! How are you?” she replied warmly.

           “Oh, I’m fine, they’re taking good care of me here.” Lamb’s voice sounded genuinely content and Claire felt comforted for the first time since the hospital had called her earlier that day.

           “Hello sir, my name’s Brenda, I’ll be your nurse tonight. I just need to ask you a few questions and check your vitals.”

           “What is your name?”

           “Quentin Lambert Beauchamp”

           “Good. When is your birthday?

           “March 23th, 1939”

           “Good, and who is the president?”

           “Well, unfortunately…” both Claire and Brenda giggled at how Lamb began his sentence. Claire was well aware of Lamb’s opinions of the current president of the United States, and was glad to see he hadn’t lost his sly sense of humor or his disdain for the man.  She was also glad he knew who the president was, hopefully his mental capacities were more promising than the worst-case-scenario her mind was conjuring.

----------

           Claire stayed by her uncle’s side for the rest of the night, only leaving the room twice, once to find something to eat from a vending machine, and once for her nightly call to Jamie. She allowed herself to break down when talking to Jamie, sobbing over the phone. Jamie did his best to comfort her through the speaker, desperately wishing he could be there for her in person. Claire wished the same, longing to curl up in his strong embrace, and bury her swollen face in his chest. She couldn’t bring up the fact that she might have to spend Christmas in Boston. She was enough of a mess without facing the reality that they wouldn’t see each other, and when Jamie promised they’d see each other soon at the end of their call, Claire hung up quickly as another wave of emotion overtook her and she buried her face in her hands to cry some more.

           The next morning, the doctor came in with Lamb’s results. Claire grasped Lamb’s hand, unsure of who was holding onto whom for comfort as the doctor explained that the mass on Lamb’s brain was in fact cancerous, but it was still relatively small and had been caught early. He explained that they could operate on it and remove it, however there was no guarantee that it wouldn’t come back or that they’d be able to get it all out. It was moments like these where Claire desperately wished she was already a surgeon, that she could feel in control of the outcome--though could she operate on her own uncle? Would she be able to hold her hand steady enough to do a good job? No, perhaps it was best left to the veteran surgeons in Boston.

           After discussing all the details and options with the doctor’s, Lamb decided to go through with the surgery. It was scheduled for the day after Christmas and Claire resigned herself to the sobering fact that she’d be spending the holidays in the hospital. As the florescent hospital lights lit the room with an unnatural glow, Claire couldn’t tell him she was scared. She had to stay strong, she had to keep it together and remain positive and supportive.

           ----------

           Claire spent the next few days devoted to her uncle, rarely leaving his bedside. Lamb had forced her to spend the nights at his apartment, which was probably for the best. She wasn’t sleeping well to begin with and the recliner at the hospital was only making matters worse. Claire was present and doting on him from morning to night though, helping her uncle order his meals, assisting him when he needed to use the restroom, adding and removing pillows and blankets as needed, or anything else he needed or wanted. Lamb had been moved to the cancer floor, and the window of his new room had a nice view of the Boston skyline. Lamb was making the best of a bad deal, he bragged about his ‘luxury accommodations’, he cracked jokes often, he liked the nicer nurses, he ordered extra dessert with all his meals and was in generally pleasant spirits. Claire could see the cracks in his cognition though. Sometimes he would change the topic he was discussing mid-sentence, and he couldn’t seem to keep time straight. Whenever anyone would mention Christmas, he would act surprised to know that it was coming up, and at one point he hinted at Claire that she might just get those roller skates she wanted for Christmas, a gift she had not asked for since she was eleven years old. He didn’t seem to know what year it was or how old Claire was. He did know who Claire was though, and for that she was thankful. He also knew who the president was whenever the nurses asked, always beginning his answer with a short preamble to make known his disdain.

Before they knew it, it was Christmas Eve and Claire couldn’t hide the sadness she felt on her face. She was glad to spend the evening with Lamb, but she had been looking forward to her first big family Christmas. She had filled in Jamie about Lamb’s condition and her subsequent stay in Boston over the course of their phone calls that week. She had also describe the Christmas gifts she had purchased for the Murrays, Jo, and Lamb, so Jamie would know the rest were for him. Jamie had agreed to put the Murrays gifts in gift bags and distribute them for her. They were meant to exchange family gifts that evening, the morning being reserved for Santa, and Claire was heartbroken to be missing out. In a matter of hours, and for the first time in two months, her and Jamie would be on the same continent, yet they wouldn’t be able to see each other. There was no way Claire could get into the Christmas spirit under these conditions. The hospital, despite being modestly decorated, was not the most festive atmosphere. Even a troop of Girl Scouts caroling their way through the hospital halls did nothing to assuage the weight of losing everything Claire had been looking forward to for the past two months.

           “What’s a matter, my dear?” Lamb asked, showing genuine concern for his niece.

           “It’s nothing, I’m fine, I promise, I’m just wishing things were different today.”

           “Why today? Is it something special? I can’t seem to remember.”

           “It’s Christmas Eve. You were supposed to come to Long Island and meet Jamie. We were going to spend the holiday with his family.”

           “Yes, I remember, that’s today? Oh dear, I haven’t gotten your gift yet I’m afraid.”

           “That’s fine, Lamb, I’m afraid I left your gift at home, so we’ll have to do that part later. We can take a raincheck on gift exchanging. I was just really looking forward to you getting to know Jamie.”

           “I’m sure I’ll meet the lad soon; he seems really special to you.”

           “He is; I know you’ll like him.”

           “I already do.” He patted the top of her hand and turned his attention back to the sitcom on the television, providing humorous commentary to try to cheer Claire up.

----------

It was late Christmas morning. Uncle Lamb was napping again and Claire had switched the television to the Hallmark Channel--usually her guilty pleasure this season, today it was simply reminding her of how her Christmas was proving to be less than magical. For her there would be no Christmas kisses, no magical snowfall, no saving the small town family business or learning to love Christmas again. All that awaited her this Christmas were fluorescent lights, beeping monitors, and nurses visiting every 6 hours to check her uncle’s vitals. This Christmas would be decidedly the most un-magical she had ever experienced. She had had her share of unconventional Christmases in the past, in fact, she never really was a Christmas person, but it had started to feel special to her when she was living in New York. This Christmas though--this was one she was looking forward to more than ever before. Claire spent most of the morning crying, grieving over all she was missing. She should have spent the morning curled up in Jamie’s arms, watching the children open presents. She could picture the Murray’s living room, trashed with colorful wrapping paper from end to end, each child in their own private world fascinated by their latest favorite toy, Jenny and Ian beaming through tired eyes.

Claire was surprised Jamie hadn’t called her to fill her in on the details yet. He had called yesterday when his plane arrived--groggy and jet-lagged, his communication skills were not the most eloquent, but he tried his best to make her feel better. She hadn’t heard from him at all this morning though, not even a Merry Christmas text. Surely the jet lag would have woken him up as early as the children, and they must have been done opening presents by now. Claire tried to rationalize that Jamie was just spending time with his family, but she couldn’t help feeling hurt and ignored. She thought she was important enough to him that he could take a moment away from his family to at least text her, or to find some way to make her feel included from afar. Had his feelings changed in their months apart? Did coming home to a messy apartment turn him off? Did she find his Christmas gifts and come to think she didn’t care enough to get him something more thoughtful? She thought about calling him, but a mixture of pride and fear kept her from acting first, not to mention she couldn’t stop crying over these sappy Christmas movies.

Suddenly, a voice from the doorway rang through the room, “Ho! Ho! Ho! Merry Christmas!” Claire looked up in confusion, momentarily unable to comprehend her surroundings and the disruption that had just entered them. Santa? No. The tall figure filling the door frame was dressed like Santa, beard and all, but the unmistakable Scottish burr gave away his true identity. If Claire hadn’t already been crying, she certainly was now. Jamie was standing in the doorway, dressed in a Santa suit, carrying a large, blue IKEA bag overflowing with wrapped presents and what appeared to be Christmas decorations.

“What?” Claire could hardly believe he was there, she rose from the chair and the couple met in the middle of the room for a hearty embrace. Claire buried her face in the soft, fluffy suit covering Jamie’s chest, sobbing uncontrollably. Perhaps the setting wasn’t a snow covered street in a small town, but this was her own Hallmark movie moment--and to be honest, those Hallmark guys had nothing on James Alexander Malcolm Mackenzie Fraser. Jamie held her close, and tight, planting kisses in her curls and whispering softly to her.

“I’m here, mo nighean donn.” He caressed her shoulders with his thumbs, not releasing his embrace in the slightest, breathing in her scent, trying to absorb her fears and pain.

All of the commotion had awoken Uncle Lamb and after witnessing the couples’ embrace for longer than was comfortable, Lamb loudly cleared his throat to remind them of his presence in the room.

“Uncle Lamb!” Claire unfolded herself from Jamie’s embrace, keeping one arm around his back. Jamie sheepishly pulled the fake beard down around his neck to reveal his face and removed his Santa hat, clutching it tightly in the palm that wasn’t holding Claire. “This is Jamie, my Jamie. Jamie, this is my Uncle Lamb.”

“Well, I’m certainly glad it’s not Santa Claus, or we’d have a lot of explaining to do to the lad!” Lamb chuckled back.

“A pleasure to finally meet you, sir.” Jamie reluctantly released Claire from his grasp to step beside the bed, extending a firm but gentle hand to Lamb. “I’m sorry it’s not under better circumstances.”

“Pleased to meet you as well, lad” Lamb replied, patting Jamie’s hand with his before releasing their handshake. “And don’t you worry about me, I have the best nurse there is taking care of me.” Two sets of proudly smiling eyes met Claire across the room.

“Oh I dinna doubt it for a second. Your niece is a rare woman.”

“Glad to see we’re in agreement. Now what’s all that?” Lamb gestured towards the large tote discarded near Claire’s feet.

“Aye, I thought I’d bring you two a bit o’ holiday cheer.” Jamie pulled a large cardboard box from the bag and extracted a small tabletop Christmas tree from it, unfurling each branch carefully and placing it on the countertop across the room, plugging it in to reveal fiber optic lights changing colors dreamily. “I usually insist on my Christmas trees being more, well, alive, but under the circumstances this’ll have tae do.” Jamie and Claire spent the next half hour or so festooning the room in garlands and placing tiny ornaments on the small tree. Claire tried to ignore that more than half of the bag was filled with brightly wrapped gifts, not sure whether she was hoping they were all for her, or hoping that they weren’t. After all, she didn’t have anything to give him and she didn’t know if he had looked through his gifts yet nor if he had appreciated them.

While they decorated, Jamie filled Claire and Lamb in on the events of the last few days. Jamie had called Jenny to tell her not to bother picking him up from the airport. He had planned on renting a car there and driving straight to Boston. Claire could hear Jenny’s voice loud and clear through Jamie’s imitation “ya clotheid! Have ya gone daft? Yer barely able to form coherent sentences amidst the jet lag from yer Christmas Eve flight, and ya wanna drive five hours tae Boston in that state!?! Claire willna appreciate ya ending up in a ditch on the side of the road as a Christmas present ya eejit!” Jenny had made a fair point, and Jamie had agreed to sleep at home and left shortly after he awoke that morning, staying only long enough for the children to open their stockings, and to watch their faces alight with surprise at the sudden appearance of piles of presents under and around the tree.

“I’m glad you took Jenny’s advice, but most of all I’m glad you’re here.” She embraced him again. “You didn’t have to do this though, Jamie, I know how important your family is to you.”

Jamie stepped back and lifted Claire’s chin with his thumb, looking into her eyes. “You are important to me, Sassenach.” he replied, with a sincerity that penetrated Claire’s heart. Claire responded by kissing Jamie chastely on the cheek, knowing her uncle was only four feet away--politely trying to ignore them and watch the television which he had flipped to an all-day marathon of A Christmas Story on repeat. Jamie’s welcome intrusion broke up the monotony of hospital life and seemed to give Lamb a better sense of what day it was.

“Now that we’ve got the place looking good and festive, I believe it’s traditional to exchange gifts on Christmas day.”

“Jamie, it’s too much, I--”

“Oh? Thought they were all for you, didja Sassenach?” he teased. Claire blushed. Of course; she hadn’t really--but who else would they be for? Surely Jamie wouldn’t spoil Lamb, a complete stranger to him, quite so much, and no one else was there. She looked dumbfounded as she tried to come up with a defense but Jamie stopped her. “Dinna fash, Sassenach, Jenny wrapped your gifts for me and Lamb before I could see and I bought them along too. She thanks ya for the wee lotions, by the way.”

“God bless Jenny! That woman is a Saint.” Claire also silently thanked God that she had left the present she was planning on wearing for Jamie that evening in her dresser drawer, that was not a gift she wanted Jenny to see, and was definitely not something she wanted him to be opening in front of her uncle.

The three exchanged gifts, save Lamb, who had nothing to give but smiles and approval for the young couples’ thoughtful gifts. Jamie was genuinely appreciative of Claire’s gifts, although she kept insisting that she hadn’t finished shopping and there was more to come; to which Jamie humbly rejected, claiming it wasn’t necessary. Jamie’s gifts to Claire were thoughtful and meaningful, the most touching ones being a print of a painting of the rose garden he had ordered from the Botanic Garden’s gift shop and a bracelet engraved with the words perennis amor, which caused Claire to tear up and embrace him tenderly in spite of her uncle’s presence.

The three enjoyed the rest of the day thoroughly. A Christmas Story played in the background and they laughed and shared stories with one another. Jamie was a born storyteller and Lamb was elated to have a fresh audience to recount his many adventures to, so conversation flowed naturally between them, with Claire occasionally interjecting. Claire mostly just sat back and admired the two men who were most important to her, filled with joy that they were getting along, that Jamie was there, that it was Christmas. For the first time in several days she had hope and peace. She was surrounded by love in that hospital room as well. She had all the things Christmas was said to bring, and for that she was grateful. Jamie had made her greatest Christmas wishes come true without her even asking and she felt lucky to be alive.

The hospital staff served their version of Christmas dinner for the small family, and while Claire was sure it paled in comparison to whatever Jenny had made, it was quite delicious, especially considering it was hospital food. Jamie ate in the armchair next to Lamb at Claire’s insistence, since the two were deep in conversation, and Claire sat in the chair on the other side of Jamie, taking in her magical Christmas scene, better than any Hallmark movie could depict.

After dinner, Jamie was fading fast, listening to one of Lamb’s stories with heavy eyes.  She took one of the spare blankets and covered Jamie. “Looks like you’re still not over your jet lag”

“Hrmmphh, I ‘spose not.”

“Do you want me to go get you a coffee? I doubt the cafe downstairs is open today, but there’s a cappuccino vending machine a few floors down that isn’t terrible.”

“Aye Sassenach, that’d be bonny. If it’s not too much trouble.”

“None at all, my love, I’ll be back soon.” Claire squeezed his hand before leaving the two men alone.

Jamie listened to her footsteps down the hall, and waited until he heard the ding of the elevator before he cleared his throat to speak frankly to Lamb. He sat up straight in the chair to ward off the sleepiness, having a few important things he wanted to say before Claire came back.

“Lamb, I need you to know, Claire is the most important person in my life. I love her sae much and I’d do anything for her.”

“I’m glad to hear that, I can see how happy you make her. She lights up when you’re around, it comforts my old heart to see.”

“I need you tae know, I’m very serious about her. I ken we haven’t been together that long, but I know--I know deep in my wame that I’m meant tae be hers. I want ya to know that I intend on spending the rest of my life making her happy, and while I havna bought a ring or ennathing yet, I wanted to ask yer blessing” Jamie paused for a moment before adding, “just in case.”

“Of course you have my blessing, son. I couldn’t be more glad to know that Claire will be so well cared for after I’m gone, truly.” Both men looked somber, knowing full well that this could be their last conversation, hoping dearly that it wasn’t. Claire returned with three cappuccinos in hand, surprised by the mood in the room.

“Everything alright, gentlemen? Don’t tell me Ralphie shot his eye out!”

“Och! Everything’s fine, Claire! I’m just tired is all, I’m sure this wee cappuccino will cure me in no time!” replied Jamie, eagerly taking a cup from Claire as she set another on Lamb’s tray table. The rest of the evening was quiet as Jamie took a nap, while Lamb and Claire watched A Christmas Story more intently then they had all day. Claire didn’t want to leave him alone so early on Christmas so she let Jamie nap until Lamb was asleep soundly for the night. The sense of joy she had felt all day was still present, but the nagging worry she felt about Lamb’s coming surgery was starting to settle in as well. Claire woke Jamie gently and Claire whispered softly to Lamb that they’d return in the morning, squeezing his hand before the couple quietly left the room.

----------

They walked out to Jamie’s car, since he still had his stuff packed in it, but Claire drove them back to Lamb’s apartment where she’d been staying. The cappuccino was helping Jamie stay coherent, but he was in no state to drive. They were quiet on the drive home, but kept their hands locked between the seats, grateful just to be in the presence of one another.

When they arrived at Lamb’s apartment, Jamie was so tired, he didn’t even want to brush his teeth, let alone do any of his usual nightly routines. However, he had spent the morning sweating in a polyester Santa suit over his clothes, and although he took it off shortly after his surprise arrival, he felt in need of a shower. Claire showed him where the bathroom was and made sure he had everything he needed, and got herself ready for bed.

Jamie showered quickly, not bothering to wash his hair, and only cleaning the parts of his body where any stench would be most concentrated, figuring the water would take care of the rest. A few minutes later, he emerged from the bathroom with a towel around his waist, ready to collapse into bed, but not before embracing his sorcha. He scooped her into his embrace and she buried her face in his bare, firm chest, warm from the shower. He smelled clean, and fresh and most of like Jamie. “I’m so happy you’re with me, Jamie. You have no idea how much it means to me that you’re here.” the emotions of the day hit her again and her voice caught at the end of her sentence as tears filled her eyes once again. Jamie kissed her forehead softly, down to her nose, and landed on her lips, giving her the firm, passionate kiss they’d both been longing for all day--and for months before that.

“Mo cridhe.” Jamie breathed when they separated. “I’m here. I’ll always be here for you. I’ll no’ leave you alone when ya need me.”

“Oh Jamie” Claire was still crying, “I’ve been so worried. I’ve been trying to stay strong for Lamb, but I feel like this won’t go back to normal--if there ever was a normal with him. I’m scared he’s going to get worse, or--” her sentence dissolved into a fit of sobs, which she tried to stifle on Jamie’s shoulder.

“You don’t have to stay strong when you’re with me. I’ll be here to help you shoulder the burden. I’ll be here to soak up your tears. There’s two of us now, Claire.” He pressed a kiss into her curls. “You can feel your feelings now, mo cridhe. Lay your cares on me. Come now, let’s get ya tae bed. I’m no’ sure how much longer I can stand myself.”

Claire fell asleep wrapped safely in Jamie’s embrace, free to be herself fully. Free to be vulnerable she felt safe, she felt loved, she felt comfortable, and most new to her--she felt she had the hope and strength that she could carry on, no matter what was to come. She slept better than she had in weeks, secure in the embrace of her eternal love.

End Notes: Thanks again for reading!! By the way, the Ingrid Michaelson song Jo mentions is hauntingly beautiful and you should listen to it. Also, I hope you liked Jamie's surprise. This was going to be a lot more angsty of a chapter but Jamie refused to let Claire suffer and had other plans. I know this was full of a lot of emotional ups and downs, and hopefully we can all find some comfort in the fact that just because Christmas/the holidays may look different for a lot of us this year, it can still be special, and there's still light, joy, love, hope, and peace to be found in the midst of the darkness.

[writes-eat-sleep-repeat]

Seeing Red

Prompt: PMS days

Pairing: Spooky x Reader

Warning/ notes: Major fluff. Not grammatically correct. Currently on my menses which inspired this one shot. Hope it can comfort other spooky lovers during their time of the month. Enjoy ;)

Summary: Spooky takes care of his girlfriend when she’s on her menses. Just him and her!

Word count: 2063

As you opened your eyes you peered through the curtains of your room and noticed it was a rainy day outside in LA. The sky was somewhere between a light gray and the cusp of a white. They kind of color that hurt your eyes if you stared at it to long. Rubbing the sleep out of your eyes you rolled over on your back and instantaneously felt the stinging in our stomach. It was day two of your menses. They worst day of them all. often you thought about what it might feel like to get shot and came to the conclusion it couldn’t possibly be any worse than this. While you laid back staring up at the ceiling you heard your phone vibrate. Looking over all you could mutter was “shit” 8 miss calls and 15 text. You looked at the clock on the nightstand to your left 10:00 am. Opening the text you scroll to the top and began reading

‘Hey mama’-3:15 pm

Missed call 3:30 pm

‘Hello’-4:00pm

Missed call 5:00 pm

‘Y/N’-5:30 pm

Missed call 6:00 pm

‘Y/N pick up the phone’- 6:30 pm

The calls and messages entwined like this for the next couple of hours until you guess your boyfriend finally fell asleep. You cant believe you slept for basically 19 hours straight. Aside from a few bathroom and water breaks where you had to use all the power you could muster up to complete those task, you somehow forgot to check your phone. Throwing your arm over your face to block out what little light was peaking through the window you could hear your roommate/ best friend Rebecca getting ready for work. BUZZZZ someone rang the doorbell. You heard him before you saw him. Out in the living room talking with you bestie, ‘where is Y/N’ he asked her. Oh no. He sounds pissed.

You laid frozen with your hand over your arm wanting the earth to swallow you whole. ‘She’s not feeling well’ you heard Rebecca respond. You always avoided Oscar on days like this because you were afraid to get mad and finally scare him away with your crazy . He burst into your room bringing the bright light from the hallway with him. You felt the irritation slowly building. Removing your hand with a sigh you look over to your right at the door. ‘Couldn’t pick up your phone’ he asked with a particular edge to his voice that brought out your annoyance to what seemed to be instantaneously. ‘I was sleeping’ you said letting acid seep into your voice. ‘For a fucking day’ he yelled. That’s it, you thought sitting up it bed which was followed by a gush of blood below causing you further annoyance.

“I’m not dealing with your shit today. 1. I spoke to you yesterday afternoon and its only 10 am meaning it wasn’t a whole fucking day. 2. Becca told you I wasn’t feeling well and instead of coming in here and asking if I’m okay you choose too come in here and yell at me like your my daddy. 3. Your not my daddy 4. My hormones are all over the place and I literally feel like i am dying so unless you plan on helping and not being an ass I suggest you leave.’ Oscar who you never ever send away looked more hurt than even mad that you yelled at him. He never took that kind of disrespect from anyone being the gang leader he is. ‘Okay, well.. what’s wrong? ummm... how can I help?’ he asked. ‘ you cant’ you replied. “Y?N...” ‘I have to go to the store and get some stuff.’ You swung you legs of the bed and tried to stand up only to be meet with crippling pain. Before you could even fully bend over to hold your stomach Oscar was there pushing you back onto the bed. ‘Your not driving like this’ he said. ‘Tell me what you need and ill get it for you’ he finished. ‘ you cant, ok its personal girl stuff’ you replied shyly. ‘ I didn’t ask you what it was. I said to tell me what you need’ he sternly answered. After writing a list that and handing it to him he said he’ll be back in 15 minutes. You took this time to take some pain medication and crawl to the bathroom just barely managing to take a shower while he was gone. Rebecca poked her head in to let you know she was heading out so you knew it was time to leave the shower so you could let Oscar back in. Standing in your room trying to figure out what to wear you decided on a pair of black leggings and one of oscars hoodie that you stole from him. You just needed to be comfy. As you were pulling the hoodie down over your head you heard the door buzzz. Heading out the the front door you pulled it open to find Oscar with 4 shopping bags. He walked past you to the kitchen and put them on the counter. ‘What exactly did you buy Oscar I only asked for a pack of pads and a soda” you asked quizzically, with what you were sure was a confused look on your face.

‘Well you said always overnight but they had 2 different kinds and I didn’t want to call you so I got both and then i got you some Advil, i mean I don’t know if that works for that kind of pain’ he said gesturing towards your stomach ‘but, i got it anyway and the lady at the store said it was good and suggested i get you something sweet and I couldn’t decide on one, so i bought one of every candy and...’ he didn’t get to finish his rambling because you walked over to him and kissed him lovingly to interrupting, he responded by holding your neck firmly in place and meeting you with the same level of passion. Pulling away for oxygen you looked up into the liquid brown eyes of Oscar Diaz and all you could say is ‘I love You’. “Go sit down mama I’m making breakfast” was his response. “Ummmm...I kinda wanted ice cream for breakfast’ you said. ‘Ice cream is not breakfast. No wonder i cant get cesear to eat any real food’ he teased you. Knowing you looked after the younger Diaz while he was locked up. ‘Hey. I eat real food but today my a baby maker wants ice cream so, I eat ice cream’ you joked. Walking over to the couch in the living room knowing he will never let you eat the ice cream first.

Settling down under the black throw that was on the couch you began to flick through Netflix trying to find something to watch. Settling on a romantic comedy. It wasn’t t long before Oscar walked over with your plate in hand. You couldn’t help but laugh as he approached you in Rebecca’s -queen of the kitchen-apron. Your attention then turned on the intoxicating smell drifting off the plate in his hand and settling in your nose. Homemade fluffy pancakes, eggs and fried salami (Oscar knew you weren’t a bacon person). He handed you the plate and placed his on the coffee table before heading back to the kitchen to remove the apron and grab your drinks. By the time he returned you were already half way through your meal. As he sat down to begin his meal. You were full and much more happy, you still couldn’t escape what you could only assume to be a stabbing taking place in your stomach but this is as happy as you were gonna get. You were content. Watching Oscar eat you eyes drifted to the santos tattoo on is neck and dirty thoughts began popping into your head. Just filthy thoughts, scooting a little closer to your man you kissed it midway him bringing some eggs to his mouth. He paused looking at you from the side through those long eyelashes with a lifted eyebrow.

That put your hormones in overdrive, you wanted him now! ‘ I liked the breakfast’ was all you could manage. Shaking his head he returned to his meal. You kissed his tattoo again, then licked it and then began sucking it. You hadn’t realized Oscar had put his dish down when he lifted you onto his lap. You were face to face, sitting on his lap you noticed he was a little hard. Biting your lip and now staring at his lips thinking of all the possibilities you could do with his mouth he smiled. Damnit the dimples. At this point you couldn’t blame the full wetness on the blood. Ugh, why did you have to have a period. ‘Hi’ he said still smiling. “Hi” you smiled back, clearing your throat “ummm... I really, really liked the breakfast” you continued. “I appreciate the gratitude and the delivery of it but, I don’t think you should start something you cant finish right now in your current state” he replied. ‘Oh’ you answered climbing off of him bringing you knees to your chest. You know his rejection was well placed and he was right but with your hormones all over the place it hit you harder than you expected. ‘Hey, hey he said moving it closer to you. You know I would do absolutely terrible things to you Mi amor, but your not at 100 right now and I don’t want you feel like you have to have sex for me to stay. Okay? He asked. ‘Yeah, umm.. that wasn’t for you but, Okay.’ nodding you moved over to curl up next to him as he finished his meal. Peaking up at him every now ad then you started thinking about how you both had changed.

You knew Oscar essentially Your entire life. Your dad’s were cool and so Oscar spent a lot of time in your fathers auto shop learning, since your dad never had a son he welcomed the apprenticeship. You were no tomboy and completely against anything other than reading. It wasn’t that far fetched you and Oscar began dating in high school. You remembered the first time getting your period and trying to explain what was happening to him; you not even knowing yourself. ‘So your bleeding’ twelve year old Oscar asked. ‘Yes’ you replied. ‘From your Vagina’ he whispered. ‘ yes’ you whispered back. “So... why does this happen?’ He asked. ‘Well my mom said when you are growing up it happens when you don’t have a baby. I think’ you replied. ‘So, your body is hurting you because you don’t have a baby?’he asked. ‘Ummm... yeah, I guess’ you answered. ‘So why not just have a baby? Said Oscar ‘ I asked that too, my dad said because he’ll kill me. So I guess I’m suppose to just suffer in silence’ you answered.

The memory bought a smile to your face and a small giggle escaped your lips causing Oscar to glance down quizzically at you now cuddled up next to him with your head on his shoulders. “ I was just remembering the first time I got my period and you thought having a baby would be the answer to all my menses related problems” you answered his unspoken question. ‘It still could be’ was all he replied shaking his head’ Smiling, most likely remembering the memory too. ‘I’m sorry I yelled at you earlier’ he continued. ‘It’s just being me...well people... its hard...-I know’ you cut him of. ‘Being you is hard and you not only have to think about you but the gang as well , Cesar....Me. I know you, your head goes to the worst possible scenario automatically. I know how worried you get. I should have checked my phone. I’m sorry too” you said pecking him on the cheek. With a quick nod of the head he returned his attention back to the screen. He wasn’t a man of many words. You two watched movies for the rest of the night. There were far and few instances when you had Oscar to yourself. When he was Oscar and not spooky. You relished these moments, these feelings and saved them for times when being is girlfriend seems less than ideal. For tonight, it’s enough to just cuddle up with your man and watch a movie.

[biotchthatmeows]

#tw #suicideawarness #triggering #depression #suicide #substanceabuse

Ah! So suicide awareness month eh. Well I don't know where to burst out exactly because people don't really care about it but ok let's try it here at good ol' Tumblr.

So, where I live we don't have any suicide helpline or any awareness programs or anything at all regarding mental health. I mean don't get me wrong we would adapt western media full fledge when it's Valentine's Day or some other ridiculous thing but no one wants to talk about suicide because it doesn't bring trp and people are already sad and I agree it's true.

But we gotta talk about suicide, man, come on. I am sorry but at least I think I should.

I have never really openly said it but I have given hints many times. But I am openly saying it that I suffer from very severe depression and anxiety plus Bipolar personality disorder. Which means I am either going through maniac episode or depressive episode almost everyday (you can Google them).

And yes, I have tried to kill myself multiple times. And turns out like most things in my life I am not really good at it. Since, I am writing this. Which is why whoever is reading this, I am taking your time (thanks btw).

I was always a little different since my childhood as compared to others. I liked being alone a lot and writing things instead of talking to a person. Because whenever I tried to make a friend I would do something wrong and they go away. So, at one point I stopped trying and I realized something that people around me dont really like me.

Even my teachers kind of didn't like me because I would just randomly ask the most peculiar questions. For example when we were reading *book spoiler* George Orwell's 1984, everyone in the class was worried for the hero when he was being tortured but I asked or told my teacher that 'okay so, his fear for the mouse was bigger than the love for the girl and it okay to betray her?' and everyone was like that was not the point. I am sorry, I got districted and I am sure most people wouldn't get the reference.

Anyway, my point is that I always had and have questions about things when people should keep their mouth shut. At least one shouldn't questioned these things.

But that is still the thing with me, when you or someone makes a prominent statement there should be a reason or at least an explanation behind it but I was called blasphemous for questioning them. And that was fine with me but calling me blasphemous didn't get you out of the position of not able to justify your statement.

So, throughout my life I was called many things, spoiled, brat, weird, drama queen, actress, attention seeker. I can go on and on.

I don't know about rest of the names but I am pretty sure I wasn't spoiled. My parents were never the type to hand over the money because you asked for it. They were kind of people who wouldn't even give you money even when you actually need and beg for it. They would give you the thing instead that you need the money for or you don't get it at all for example school picnics and events or the bag you really really wanted.

So, well when you don't get things. You eventually start doing bad things such lying a lot and stealing stuff. And it keeps growing and growing and even though deep down you know how wrong you are but then you don't know how to stop because you are getting things you want.

Okay, off the topic again. What I am trying to say that I was maybe lot of things that people said but I wasn't spoiled. I was physically abused and eventually realize mentally abused too. And things weren't really okay with me. I won't take it like most people do.

My brain wouldn't stop thinking about them and I was becoming more and more irrational as days goes by. And I was thinking what if I was dead and that would make things lot more easier for me and the people around me.

Eventually, that idea became more and more intense and growing around I always heard people say that if a person kills themself they would never be forgiven and it was the greatest sin ever.

But then those people would also say that not praying is the greatest sin and you won't be forgiven for that ever.

And then not believing in one God is also the biggest is of all sin and you won't be forgiven for that ever.

And then saying hurtful things to people is also the biggest sin and you won't forgiven until that person forgives you.

So, which one was the biggest sin? All of them? Because then those same people would say that God would forgive you for all your sins if you repent and because God is most forgiving. Even more forgiving then your own mother.

So, my curious brain once again started asking questions. For which again I was told that I shouldn't because it was wrong and blasphemy.

Meanwhile, my mental health was decling day after day but no one really noticed because in our society their is no such thing as mental health. Either you are crazy or lazy, hey that rhymes.

I was pretty much deemed both.

Mostly, lazy but then there is a solution for that in our society for as well. Get married! Tada! Because when you are married it fixes everything! And anything.

It shouldn't come as a surprise that I obviously despiced the marriage thing. Because I knew I couldn't do it.

Someone who can barely keep themself put together, cannot handle the responsibility of the marriage and of course I wasn't interested in anyone. I mean of course I had crushes and stuff but unlike most girls/women my age I never went as far as thinking about marriage all the time. Which was happening at that time all around me.

People were keen to get married or getting married.

And I don't know why people thought it's about time I should get married too and everytime the situation like that came along I would have the worst kind of panic attacks. I couldn't eat or drink or sleep and I had to fight and fight to make the situation go away.

But you can't win every time now, can you? Eventually, I was forced into getting engaged and I can't explain how horrible each second for me during that time was. But once got lucky enough get out of it and it was happiest day of entire life. Well just for me of course. Everyone around me was pretty bumped but I was selfish because I got out of it.

And the worst part of the whole thing that bugged me was that guy was honestly horrible. He called me fat and then his family came around to inspect me like a cattle because my family told them I wasn't fat. What a wonderful thing to your child. Really helped my self esteem.

He couldn't even spell aunty right. Yeah he wrote 'unty' and apparently his parents bragged he went and study in Australia. So, if Australians wrote aunty like that, then I suppose I was being a little judgy.

Anyhow, I was so relieved. It was like I could breathe again. But obviously it wasn't the end of it.

Things like that don't don't just end for people in our society. Situations like that kept happening and my parents was getting desperate at this point because duh! I was growing old and who would marry an old girl even when like they 10 years older her.

During the period of my engagement my mental health was at its worse and it was getting worse everyday. I was constantly having panic attacks and one day out pity I was finally taken to the doctor not a psychologist or psychiatrist but just a normal doctor.

Lucky for me that guy prescribed a magical pill which fixed everything, for a while and I loved it. The minute I would take that pill everything would become normal. I would even stopped caring about the engagement thing till that pill lasted.

I didn't know at first what it was but then I figured it out and I would go out buy shit ton of them because it fixed things for a while.

In short I was addicted to vallium and then I found out there are other pills like that such as Xanax and plenty of other and as long as I had money no one cared who they selling these pills too and it wasn't like I was buying them from some shady person. I was actually buying them from legit pharmaceutical shops.

So, whenever situations like those came around or at that any other point I faced problems I would take those pills but then I realized that eventually that they stopped working so I increased the doses for them to work and the doses increased and increased. At one point I was taking a box each day just for a moment of calm. And years went by and so did the amount of pills I was literally throwing my whole month of salary on them.

Then my family finally noticed that something was off because I never had money and I wasn't exactly

buying anything so where was the money going? Also I was sleeping a lot and starting to forget things which was pretty out character for me.

I was confronted and given an ultimatum. So, for a week or more I think I didn't take any pills but then I was taking them for years now and you are not supposed to suddenly stop them. But I didn't know that at that time.

And that was my first attempt to kill myself. But then things happen, bad things, and they kept happening and happening. Finally came a point where no one was to stop me from taking pills or trying to kill myself.

By then I had committed multiple attempts to kill myself. I was self harming long before that but after that it had gotten much worse. And my last attempt was this year but instead of dying I went into a seizure which lasted 48 hours and even after that I wasn't able move my tounge properly and certain part of my body for a month.

That was the first time I was scared of suicide. Because I was not able to do anything on my own. I bit tounge so hard that it bled and broke a teeth. It worse than dying.

I was finally taken to the hospital and a real psychiatrist who finally diagnosed me with my illness.

Yet still, some people think I make things up because I did them in the past but that shit was real and anyone who say I act crazy to get attention, then I swear to you that you wouldn't wish that condition on your worst enemy.

Talking about all this wasn't to let my heart out or anything. I just want to tell you and anyone who understands to realise that mental illness is very very real and it's a nightmare that doesn't go away. That only problem it is not visible like other diseases. It's just like having a cancer but imagine you can't see that cancer.

And being suicidal is not a joke, no one wants to end their lives on purpose. Everyone wants to live.

But just think for a moment from prespective of the person that their brain had been through enough that it thought that life is not worth living anymore. And if it's a sin then they are ready to go to hell because imagine life being worse than hell.

I know this is already a really long post but I needed to bring this up because recently I was having conversation with colleagues about what we should about suicide awareness month and I was like maybe make post to empathize with people who go through this horrible rough path but my colleagues suggested that they should put this religious script which says that anyone commits suicide will never be forgiven and will forever be in hell.

And this was coming from the person who doesn't pray at all. I was like what about you? I wasn't judging him. I was like so you won't go to hell and be there forever?

And he was like I will be forgiven but people who commits suicide they will not be. And he was so confident that he even said that you will see on the day of judgment that people who didn't pray will be eventually forgiven but there is no way for people who had committed suicide to be forgiven.

And I was like okay, wow! Because there is literally no point with arguing or trying to make people like them understand because they won't. And I know many, actually forget many but most people would agree with him. Because they don't even accept mental illness as illness at all and if you are sad/depressed you must not be praying or need to pray more.

But, I pray for those ignorants who make fun of mental illness and suicide and call it attention seekers or actors when it is desperate cry for help.

[jawritter]

The Arrangement

Chapter 11

Summery: You are a young girl that was raised in a small church in Dallas, TX. One of the only churches left in the state that still practices arranged marriages. When your betrothed ran off to California you thought you'd escape the fate you were trained for ever since a small child. Now upon the death your parents your fate seemed to be inescapable as he's returned, and is ready to take you as his bride.

Book Warnings: Arranged marriage, loss of virginity, smut, unprotected sex, angst, language, suicide attempt, battles with anxiety, struggles with mental illness, age gap (about 11 years), I think that’s it, chapters will have warnings of their own!

Chapter Warnings: Angst, fighting, accusations of Infidelity, domestic violence (a slap), reading getting caught up in her own headspeace, insecure reader, Danneel being a raging  bitch, manipulation, distrust, feelings of abandonment, language, I think that’s it.

Word Count: 2710

A/N: This book is a book about Christian and church based arranged marriages, I would like to take this moment to say that I DO NOT have ANYTHING against the Chirstian faith, and mean absolutely no harm to anyone! Especially Jensen’s family! This is a complete work of fiction, and should be treated as such!

Beta’d by the amazing @deanwanddamons who was awesome enough to do all this for me! It was a lot of work, and she deserves all the praise for it!!

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Reader

Want More? Check Out My Masterlist!!

***MASTERLIST***

***SERIES MASTERLIST***

Three months.You and Jensen  had been married for three months. 

It felt like only yesterday that you closed the door on your parents house for the last time. Now here you are, stirring  tonight's supper, waiting on your husband to get home from his meeting with his agents. 

They had flown in to Austin last night to meet with him today about his 'future.' Jensen said that means that they wanted him to try out for some other acting roles, which he wasn't entirely sure that he wanted to do. 

You told him that you would support him in whatever decision he made, though you knew that acting meant relocating if you wanted to be with him while he was filming, because the likelihood that he'd get a role that filmed in Austin where basically non existent. 

You'd never lived outside of the state of Texas. 

Actually, you'd never been outside of the state of Texas period, which was quite contradictory to your husband, who has literally been almost everywhere. 

Sometimes he made you feel like such a child. 

You knew that was never Jensen's intention. He never looked down on you or degraded you, at least not to your face. He even stood up to Jared three months ago. The two of them hadn't really spoken since, and you felt horrible about that. Even though Jensen had repeatedly told you that it wasn't your fault, and that Jared was being a child that needed to grow up.

You were lost in your own thoughts when the door opened and closed loudly, alerting you to Jensen's return. 

"Y/N? You home?"  You heard his voice ring through the house as he made his way toward the kitchen. 

"Yeah in here!!" you yell over your shoulder, trying to compose your own thoughts before you had to come face to face with him.

His arms encircled around you, pulling your back tight to his chest. You instinctively leaned your head back against his shoulder. 

There was something about his  presence that just seemed to calm you. The way he smelt, the way his solid body felt up against your own, the way he wrapped his arms around you, holding you tight; like if he let go of you, you'd disappear, and he just couldn't have that.

"How did your meeting go?"

"Not bad, not great, but not bad. They want me to try out for more roles, which I already knew. They didn't seem too happy when I said I wanted to work on my own album. One just by myself, and then maybe... I don't know."  He sighed deeply against your neck, making you shiver. 

"I got time to figure it out. I really am not sure I want to go back fully into acting, maybe just an appearance here and there, I really want to do my music. They said I had plenty of time to think about it."

Kissing you on the forehead, he takes his phone and wallet out of his jeans, then sits them on the counter next to you. 

"I'm going to go grab a shower real quick, then after we eat we can lay on the couch and binge watch Friends, preferably naked." he said, winking at you and making you blush, before turning back to your task at hand.

Turning on the dishwasher after loading it, you heard the ding of Jensen's phone on the counter next to you. 

It was a text. 

You weren't trying to snoop , but you saw it anyway. When you heard the phone go off you imminently looked up at the phone. 

It was his publicist Brian. 

Jensen, call me. Someone took a pic of Danneel kissing you today. They turned it into TLC. Got to do damage control man.

You stood there staring at the phone on the counter, your heart hammering in your chest. You couldn't believe what you had just read. He had said she cheated on him, that they were done. 

Your vision starts to blur and burn as tears brimmed their way to the surface of your eyes. 

'No it's just a joke, or a mistake, he was meeting with his publicist and his agents today. He was nowhere near Danneel. It's a lie...' 

Just as you had almost convinced yourself that it was bullshit another text came across the screen. This time it was the picture. 

There they were, standing in front of a building, her mouth locked to his. You closed his phone and stumbled your way to the kitchen table that was just a few feet away.

You felt like your heart was being ripped out of your chest. Every fiber of your being felt like it was crumbling. 

You hadn't realized until that moment how much you had really fallen for the man. Right now though, all you could really register was the inexplicable hurt, and feeling of being betrayed. 

You wanted to leave, but had nowhere to go. You couldn't get out of a marriage like the one you and Jensen found yourself in easily. You were literally stuck unless Jensen released you. Even then you were back to where would you go?

Your thoughts weren't coherent anymore, just pain, and confusion.  She was stunning compared to you, worldly, she could probably do a lot more for him than you could. 

With that thought,  the shame really hit you. You obviously weren't satisfactory to him, otherwise he wouldn't be going to his ex wife to get what he needed.

Tears were flowing down your face in earnest now, hurt, embarrassment, and your own insecurities eating away at you down to your very core.

How were you going to face him when he got out of the shower? What were you going to tell him? You didn't know how to handle this. 

Hearing the bathroom door close you knew you needed to get yourself under control, but you couldn't, the hurt was just too much.

You tried desperately to dry your face so that he wouldn't notice you had been crying. You didn't know how he would react. You weren't intentionally standing there looking at his phone. You were just there when it went off, and crossed the screen. It wasn't like you were looking on purpose, and if you had your way, you'd never have seen it, and continued to live in ignorance. It would have hurt a lot less. 

You heard him come into the living room, looking around for you. 

"Baby? Where are you?"

You could hear him getting closer to the kitchen. Taking a deep breath you didn't know what to do. You wanted to yell, you wanted to slap him, which surprised you, you wanted to scream, you wanted to curl up in a ball and cry. The overwhelming emotions are too much for you to compute all at once.

You heard him come up to the table and pull a chair back. You must have looked as horrible as you felt on the inside because he immediately reached for your hand, which you jerked away from harshly. He sat there for a moment looking you over, not sure what to say or do, completely unaware of what caused this outburst from you.

"Baby, what's wrong? Talk to me sweetheart?" 

He pushed the chair back, and moved to get on his knees in front of you, reaching for you. Your body reacts before you could even process what you were doing, shoving your chair back away from him harshly. You couldn't look him directly in the eye, but you didn't miss the flinch in body language when you pulled away from him so harshly. You’d never done that before. 

"Come on baby, please talk to me. We were fine when I went to take a shower, what happened? Tell me so I can fix it, I don't like us like this." 

Standing before he could finish his pleas, you cross the room to the counter and take his phone in your hand,walking halfway to him and throwing it at him before exiting the room to lock yourself in the bedroom that you shared with Jensen. 

You didn't know where this kind of aggression came from, it wasn't in your nature. You slid down the door after locking, sitting with your back to the door as you fell apart, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing you cry. 

You thought for a moment that your heart was going to stop beating. You had never felt so completely broken.  

You could hear him calling for you. The sound of him running closer to the door and jiggling the handle. You couldn't make yourself move. You couldn't face him, or the fact that you were not good enough for him, or the fact that he was probably very angry at you for throwing his phone at him, or looking at his text message, or a multitude of reasons your mind was conjuring  up.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Jensen's POV:

Jensen's heart was pounding in his ears. He wanted to literally murder Danneel, and if it wouldn't be the fact that orange wasn't actually the new black he probably would have tried, and made it look like an accident. 

She had been texting him for a week now. Saying how much she missed him, and how much of a mistake she had made, how she wanted another chance, how she wanted him back and for them to be a family again.

He had nothing left for her, he literally felt nothing. He knew she was full of shit, that she just didn't want to be brought to court over the children, because she knew if she lost, she would lose a pretty good bit of his income with it. 

So he just ignored her, not answering her text messages and just deleting them. Seeing as she couldn't get through to him on the phone, she jumped up and followed him to his meeting with his agents this morning, and when he walked out of the office she had ambushed him, grabbing him and kissing him hard before he had time to react. 

She must have had a photographer hiding in the street. He was pretty sure he'd figured out that she was jealous and trying to ruin his marriage toY/N. If it would have been a regular photographer, then the photo of him yelling at her and pushing her away would have followed, but nope. Just the one of her kissing him. 

Anger boiled under his skin. Her narcissism knew no limits, and once he fixed this shit with his wife, the woman he actually cared about, he was filing for a restraining order tomorrow. 

Jiggling the door knob again he spoke through the door. Everything in him wanting to hold her, to tell her it wasn't him, that he'd never do anything like that to her. He'd never hurt her. He wanted to shield her from shit like this, and had failed measurably. Now she thinks that he's cheating on her. 

"Come on Y/N, open the door baby. This isn't what it looks like. Come on, let me in."

Nothing. 

"Baby,you know I can pick a lock right? I want you to let me in though, I don't want to force my way in... Come on sweetheart, you got to believe me. She followed me to my meeting and kissed me. I didn't even know she was there until she basically jumped on me. Please sweetheart, I would have never, NEVER have done that to you."

Nothing. Jensen could feel the anxiety tightening in his chest like a vise. 

He couldn't lose her, not over this. Leaving the door only long enough to get something to pick the lock on the bedroom door. He was starting to feel short of breath. Like he was about to have a full on anxiety attack. 

He'd been afraid to admit he had real feelings this early in their marriage for Y/N, more than just basic lust. Funny how you don't really know what you have until you stare at the possibility of losing it.

-----------------------------------------

Your POV:

You could hear Jensen messing with the lock on the door. You had thought he had just given up and walked away from the door. You had moved from your spot on the floor, and literally crawled your way to the bed. You didn't have the strength to get up to your feet to walk. It was like something in you had died.

You knew you really cared about Jensen, you knew you were quickly ‘falling’ for him, and wanted to make a good wife for him, but you didn't realize you had feelings this deeply for him. 

You wanted more than anything to believe what he was saying, you wanted to believe it was all Danneel. You wanted to believe that she had jumped him outside the office building, and that he had nothing to do with it. She kissed him.

There was a part of you though that was screaming men lie when they get caught. He broke your trust. You're not good enough for him. You will never be good enough for him. You're a sheltered, overgrown child, that he hasn't even tried to take out in public with him since that fiasco at Jared's house. 

You're nothing but something he's ashamed of. 

A burden.

With every horrible thought that ripped through your head, it felt like your chest would cave in. Believing your own thoughts, the worst one yet ripped through your subconscious before you could stop it. 

'You have no family left, and now you're about to not have a husband. You're too sorry to even hold on to an arranged marriage. Your father would be so disappointed. You are a disgrace, and a shame to your family's memories.'

The door burst open before you had time to even react to your own thoughts. Jensen's heavy footsteps moved quickly around the bed. He  kneeled down in front of you. 

"Baby please, I didn't kiss her. They didn't show the whole story. That's the media, they do shit like that to make drama for themselves. She jumped me outside the building when I left my agents meeting."

You couldn't look at him. Just continued to give a dead, heartbroken look at the wall. 

"Y/N, please look at me. I'm not lying to you.. She's been texting me for days saying she wants me back. I've been ignoring her. That's why she did that."

Nothing. You couldn't make yourself respond to him. You felt like you had the grand canyon in your chest where your heart used to be. Your body refuses to function.  Your mind told you to reach out to him. Even though something deep down in you told you that he was telling you the truth,  an even louder voice in you told you that he's lying, and you will just get hurt if you believe him. That he's going to leave you. One way or another.

"Sweetheart please.. I love you, I'd never do anything like this, I don't want her.."

Was he really going to sit there and tell you he loved you? After what he'd done?

Something snapped in you then. Anger you hadn't expected flooded through you from the top of your head to your feet. Before you could even register what you were doing you reached out and slapped him hard in the face, knocking him from a kneeling possession to a sitting one.

A look of shock, bewilderment, and another look you couldn't recognize crossed his face as he sat there staring at you with his mouth hanging slightly open, staring at you.

"Don't you dare.. You don't have the right to come in here, and tell me you love me after what you've done..." 

You sat there staring at each other for a moment, neither of you saying a word. 

Jensen after a moment composed himself. Got to his feet, and walked out the bedroom door. Slamming it behind him. 

You laid back down on the bed and cried yourself to sleep. 

Why was God doing this to you? Why did he keep taking everything from you?

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[highlifesupernova]

A Tale of Two Lockdowns

For the second time in what scarcely feels like a year and a half, I am bored in the house while a pandemic rules my country of residence.

This time, though, instead of my one-bedroom apartment in Seattle, I'm bored in a rented house in a remote area of New Zealand, where I'm temporarily living for work. We've been under level 4 lockdown, the country's strictest pandemic containment protocol, for two weeks, and Auckland is looking at two weeks more. This was a near-immediate snap reaction by the federal government to a single case of the delta variant of COVID-19 being detected in the country.

At surface level, this means many of the same things that "lockdown" and "quarantine" have come to mean in the US: gatherings, sporting events, in-person classes, and nonessential trips are canceled. Here, however, it also means no nonessential businesses are operating -- we have access to groceries, gas, the hospital, and local outdoor areas for exercise, but there is no other activity allowed. No takeaway, no liquor stores, no warehouse workers tirelessly dispatching the conveniences of modern life without taking pee breaks (I too was surprised to learn that man can quarantine without Postmates and gin, but I have lived to write this post). Construction has stopped. Offices are empty. I can count the number of cars I see traveling past my window each day on one hand.

Every day, the Prime Minister and Minister of Health address the public directly, providing updates on case numbers, the anticipated end date of the lockdown, the process for review, and information on testing and vaccines. Only data and plans are given a platform.

Like any pandemic-weary American might, I expected this process to feel familiar. We've been on a roller coaster of coronavirus cases for so long that the whiplash has rendered me numb to new lockdowns. It hasn't felt familiar in the least.

Perhaps most obviously, watching the New Zealand lockdown in action has highlighted just how deficient my home country's governmental reaction to the pandemic has been. Because of Prime Minster Ardern's straightforward updates, I've been hyper-aware of the community-spread case count in the country, which is currently hovering around 600. All of these can be tied back to a single case that managed to leak out of a quarantine facility for international returnees. While these 600 cases may pale in comparison to the hundreds of thousands of daily infections in the United States, I now see this small number as a large one; a single case that was rapidly contained indirectly caused 600 people to fall ill. It's not difficult to understand how. People implicated in the cluster of cases were going to school and work, having nights out, and going to casinos. To stop the spread, New Zealand simply stopped those activities. In the United States, we do them every single day, at a much larger scale, unchecked.

I've spent the last twenty minutes trying to find numbers on noncompliance and protest in New Zealand to support my anecdotal claim that nearly everyone seems to be willing to follow the rules, and I can't. Parliament is actively debating the lockdowns on the national equivalent of CSPAN and public dissent is certainly allowed, but unscientific rhetoric is not given a platform. If there are mass anti-mask protests happening in Auckland, I don't know about them, and I don't need to. I'm getting the information I need to inform my decision-making from data. Data speaks for itself. Coverage of this disease, itself an instrument of nature alone, has been so bereft of data in so much of the media I consume that this has come as an absurd surprise to me. Doomscroll-baiting with story after horrifying story of the antics of truth-averse malfeasants is not a productive way to report on a public emergency.

This all begs an oft-repeated question of this global mess: what the hell is wrong with the United States? There are, of course, practical differences between implementing an effective lockdown in relatively small New Zealand and the vast USA. It would be incredibly difficult and expensive for the US to match New Zealand's Managed Isolation and Quarantine program at scale, which places all travelers in a two-week isolated hotel stay upon arrival in the country. The power entrusted to states renders almost impossible a nationally unified approach to any given problem. Our legislature has been stuck in ideological gridlock for my entire life.

Are these excuses to let Americans die on ventilators, though? I don't think they are. New Zealand enacted new legislation to carry out their response, because unprecedented times call for unprecedented measures. In comparison, American legislators have played a juvenile game of keep-away with the lives of individuals. There's a legitimate argument to be made that the American economy might have suffered more with a stricter lockdown, but to this I pose the same response. Why didn't we use this as an opportunity to create an American economy that doesn't require the safety and sanity of our countrymen as collateral? New Zealand has managed to come up with a plan for a robust economic response to eliminate a choice between safety and staying afloat for businesses and workers. It seems like something the richest country in the world, which has been known to spend billions of dollars on military equipment only to literally burn it to the ground, should be able to pull off.

If there were ever an issue that demanded bipartisanship, one might think it'd be a life threatening disease that does not give a shit which letter is on your voter registration card. What started as some fear mongering for attention by our former president has ballooned into the right stoking every anti-science conspiracy theory they find in the dark corners of the internet to maintain their batshit following while the left desperately tries to appease the same batshit following to get them to take a vaccine.

Where New Zealand has worked to mandate responsible behavior, the United States has, at best, gently suggested it, and at worst, actively discouraged it. I concede that there is no way the United States could have curtailed the pandemic to the extent that New Zealand has, but we could have done something.

I've been contemplating the meaning of freedom in the context of this pandemic since my own stay in an MIQ facility upon my arrival in New Zealand in July. MIQ was not fun. I was confined to a hotel room alone for two weeks, delivered airplane-grade mystery meals, and occasionally allowed to go for a walk in the parking garage or to have a cotton swab stuck up my nose. If I were a very different sort of person, I could've engineered an escape out the window or made a scene in front of the New Zealand defense forces running the hotel. But I did my time, and so did all of my fellow travelers, because we knew that what awaited us on the other end was collective freedom. It was well worth a short period of personal inconvenience to keep what was at the time a very open country safe.

Beyond the failings of our government, the refusal of individual Americans to give up a single luxury in the face of this pandemic is a belligerent affront to our collective freedom. "Freedom" is constantly invoked as a reason to spurn calls for masking and social distancing, but the freedom of our communities to enjoy healthy, long lives is somehow never as important as one's individual right to not wear a piece of cloth to 7-Eleven. In this sense, although the coronavirus disaster in the United States can be in many ways concretely linked to the failure of a bloated government to act, it is also ultimately a failure of rugged individualism. The snake has begun to eat its own tail, and we're watching it happen.

I never felt truly free from March of 2020 until the day I stepped out of my MIQ facility and re-entered blissful, normal life in New Zealand. I don't feel less free in lockdown, because I know we're in it together. We could have this freedom too, if only we could embrace that our true freedom lies with one another.

[whatwouldmindykdo]

I wrote a little something about coming to terms with my sexuality and thought I’d share it here...

For as long as I can remember I’ve dreamt of my wedding day. As soon as I was able to comprehend the concept of wedding and marriage it became my only goal, my ultimate achievement: I wanted, I needed to get married. This would make me successful and prove my worthiness. I would be happy forever. And so, for years, I’d spend hours imagining the magical day: the dress, of course, and its designer, the venue, the guests, the music, the menu, the bridal party, the decor. And of course, the groom. Because it was always a groom. However, I would find it extremely difficult to imagine him. I could think of qualities I would look for in a partner, but that was it. Looking back now, I think that, more than any of these things, what I dreamt of was being loved and being in love. I was just hoping to find the kind of unconditional love I grew up surrounded by. Not a person but a feeling. An ideal. 

I grew up in what you would probably call a liberal family. My parents are very open-minded, left-wing voters and I grew up having political debates at the dinner table. But it was always about tolerance. Every love is love, they would say. Everyone deserves to be happy, they would say.

This, however, was not true for them growing up. Both my parents grew up in working class families and worked their way into the middle class. As liberal as my parents are, their own parents were rather conservative in thought. 

My father’s parents had grown up on farms. Their own parents, my great-grandparents, lived a life I cannot even begin to comprehend. After the Second World War, as life was changing everywhere, and especially in the countryside, my grandparents left for the city (well, a city, not THE city) to work in factories. They were deeply religious and my father was raised a Catholic. However, he also enjoyed great freedom. He was free to come and go, almost as he wished, to play with his brother and friends. He was free not to work in school, drop out after middle school and go on to work with his father. Which he did, for a while, until he realized he didn’t want to do that his entire life. In other words, he was free to fail, and try again. Would it had been the same thing had he been a girl? We will never know, as he was one of two boys. 

My mother, on the other hand, was not. Her grandparents had been mining workers, as almost everyone in the area. Her own parents had been saved from this life, and pushed to look for work in other industries. They had married young and my mother was the eldest of two. Her parents were heavily involved in political and union movements, pushing for workers’ rights. This gave her an awareness of the political situation and an ideal of what is achievable when you work for it. My mother, however, is also a woman. And as such, her parents expected her to behave a certain way. 

She was expected to be the perfect little girl. Calm, pretty, smiling. Not to take too much space. Do well in school. Be polite. And so my mother tried her best to be this ideal girl. She excelled in school, practiced many sports, and took it upon herself to keep the family together and happy. She eventually went on to work and had to move out to another city, but always close to family as she was sharing an apartment with her aunt. When she found another job closer to her parents, she moved back home. Eventually, she met my father. They dated for a couple of years, but moving in together was unfathomable. Not before marriage. And that’s how my parents ended up married without having ever lived together, something I honestly find quite hard to imagine. Her brother, on the other hand, lived a life closer to my dad’s. He could not roam the streets or drop out of school but he did leave high school without graduating, moving out to work away and never looked back. He introduced many girlfriends to his parents before eventually having a child and getting married, in that order. 

My parents would probably tell you that they raised me and my brother the same way. That not more was expected of me. That I could do the exact same thing he did. And to some extent that is true. We were both expected to excel in school. To be polite and respectful. We were both told we could dream of being whoever we wanted to be. But what had been instilled to my mother was also, somehow, perhaps more sneakily, taught to me. I also had to be the perfect little girl, no excuses. The one that doesn’t move. The one that doesn’t scream or make a scene. The one that helps at home. As Michelle Cliff says in Notes on Speechlessness, ‘I am reminded that a great compliment of my childhood was: ‘she’s such a quiet girl’’.

Instead of rebelling against this system I made it mine: it was my way of taking up space. My way of being remarkable. I was expected to excel at school: I was top of the class. I was expected to be calm and discreet: I would literally never speak. Even today it takes a lot for me to be able to do things I know my parents disapprove. Because I have built myself through others’ approval, and then who am I once they don’t approve? 

What does that have to do with being a lesbian, you may wonder. See, I knew about lesbians. I knew about gays. It was not entirely unknown to me. I saw them on the news, we talked about them at home. But no one in my family was gay, lesbian or part of the LGBTQI+ community, at least not openly. That was not what we did. As much as my family rebelled against capitalistic society, we were expected to conform in certain areas, and this was one. We, as a family, are heterosexuals. And so I unconsciously associated being a good girl to being heterosexual. 

I don’t remember the first time I heard of the LGBTQI+ community, nor do I remember the first time I had a crush on a girl. I am quite sure she was my primary school best friend. I very clearly remember wondering whether I was in love with her or whether that was just how you felt for your best friend (hint: I kinda knew the answer). And so, little me moved on with life. Eventually the feeling wore out, and there was a very intense and dramatic fall out. But that was it, no more questions about my sexuality. Not until I was well into my teenage years, at least. When I made it to university I had began what I would call my transformative journey, learning extensively about feminism, inclusivity and human rights. I was passionate about these subjects and wanted to learn more, and more. I surrounded myself with people who were open-minded, teaching me about these very topics, and, for some of them, part of the LGBTQI+ community. At about this time I began identifying as pansexual or bisexual. I have never been really sure about this. There was no major coming out though. I just stated here and there that I thought love was about a person and their soul, not their gender. Even though I was identifying as pansexual / bisexual, the doubt never really left. I felt ill-at-ease with the identification. Maybe I’m not into labels, I’d think. Maybe. 

Deep down, I knew. I think I’d always known. I would get major crushes on women in films and TV shows. Maybe that’s just identification. I could hardly imagine being in a relationship with a man. Maybe I just haven’t met THE one. I would feel uncomfortable whenever a man flirted with me. Maybe I’m just not into him. 

I just couldn’t imagine being a lesbian. And that’s not to say that I could fathom the very existence of lesbians. I knew they existed, I had a friend as they say. I truly believed that all love is love. What I couldn’t accept was that I was a lesbian. How could I not like men? Good girls like men. Good girls are straight. Good girls get married TO A MAN, and have children WITH A MAN. No way. I must be pansexual. Or bisexual. Not lesbian. 

Funnily enough, the pandemic was a big transitional time for me. I was able to truly connect with myself. Away from the world and the mundanities of everyday life, focusing on what really matters for the first time, I came to a realization. I do not like men. I do not find pleasure in imagining a relationship with a man. This realization was validated by experience. I signed up on a dating app (what??? I know, don’t judge). My immediate reaction was to set up my preferences to women  only (that should have been another hint right?!). However, almost immediately I changed those preferences to everyone (men and women). Why? Because, I thought, by excluding men I might miss out on the one (he’s always somewhere). What if I miss on the opportunity of happily ever after because I renounce to dating half of humanity? And oh boy did I regret that. I was instantly contacted by half the male population of my surroundings (the joys of being on a dating app) and it really felt like it was not for me. I was feeling miserable rather than happy, anxious rather than excited. I switched back to women only and I have felt safer and more myself ever since. 

I guess you could say that I have been feeling rather at peace with who I am. I have come out to a few (selected) friends, in the least dramatic way possible (well, they also are the least dramatic women I know). There remains the question, however, of coming out to family. Because although I have come to term with being a lesbian, I am still scared AF when it comes to coming out to my family and the main reason is: what if I am not lesbian after all (eye roll emoji)? The real reason, though, is that I know that as open-minded as my parents are, a coming out also means a period of adaptation, of understanding what it means exactly. And for someone like me who hates both confrontation and disappointing this feels like a big deal. Selfishly, I wish someone had been there before in my family. That I would not be the first. The trailblazer. The odd one out. The lesbian aunt. But then, I think of my little cousins. And how I could be that person for them. If I allow myself past the fear. 

Thing is, I also truly believe that I will not be able to be fully happy until I come out. I will not be truly happy until I can be who I am fully, knowing that the people who accept it are the ones who love me, for real. But what if that means losing my grandfather? What if it means that people will literally never stop talking about it? 

As much as I have talked about the hardships of coming out and coming to terms with my sexuality, I will also mention that coming to terms with this reality has been a huge relief. It has opened me to a world where love and inclusion are legion. A world where you are accepted for who you truly are. It has given me role models, values and a political awareness that I probably would not have had otherwise. In other words, being lesbian is a blessing because it is who I am, fully. And when I get to be this person, I can finally start to breathe. I can finally start to live. 

My problem lies with mainstream culture and the way it portrays lesbian relationships. I have grown up with the ability of seeing gay couples loving each other, hating each other, flirting, breaking up. Mainstream media and popular culture have very much romanticized gay relationships. What of lesbian relationships then? The reality is completely different. And how could it not be when Instagram still censored the ‘lesbians’ hashtag two weeks ago? When we only have The L Word as a reference? Where on TV and in films have lesbians been given the space and time to actually develop a relationship except in that show? And I’m not even talking about the perfect, happy relationship. Just any relationship. More than 3 minutes of screen time. You’ll have to agree that this is rather recent. 

How different would my life have been if I had seen lesbian couples on TV? How different would my life have been if people had not shied away from lesbian relationships? It is time for pop culture to be inclusive of our people. Little girls need this representation. They need to know that this kind of love exists, is normal, and brings fulfillment. I wish this had been my reality so that I wouldn’t have been mad when Casey from Atypical dumps her boyfriend to explore her relationship with Izzie. Because then perhaps I wouldn’t have been mad at her for doing that. I wouldn’t have been mad at Izzie for being honest. Because that is how deeply rooted my fear of being a lesbian was: I was mad at these two women for having the courage to explore their feelings and be true to themselves, when Casey could have had the perfect ending with Evan. And that is not ok. I need to let go of the idea that the perfect life means being in a heterosexual relationship. Because I know that this is not for me. This will not bring me fulfillment. 

[shadowhuntertrash]

Hii I’m in the mood for some pain sooo I was wondering if you could write a fanfic with prompt #8 (angst) for malec?

(Sorry this is kinda trash <33)

Alec worked at a small coffee shop in the middle of Brooklyn. It wasn’t very well known but it was cozy and they had a lot of regulars. Alec typically worked the register due to his constant tiredness and inability to move around too much.

   Alec was diagnosed with lung cancer when he was twelve, they had all expected him to die by the time he was thirteen at most he would live to be fifteen, but here he was eighteen years old and still suffering.

   He often wondered if it was really worth it, being alive. If being dead was the only way to stop the cancer why couldn’t it just kill him already. But it hadn’t and so he tried his best to live a normal life. Go to school, work, be a good sibling.

   He wasn’t sure when his last day would be, but he tried to ignore that. The only thing he did that was a conscious decision because of his illness was the fact that he didn’t make friends, or bond with new people. It wasn’t fair when he was past his expiration date.

   Which was why he found it annoying and endearing at the same time, when one of their regulars would ask him out every time they came in. 

   His name was Magnus Bane and the only appropriate way to describe him was sparkly. He was always wearing glitter, and he always had a smile. He was such a bright presence that you wouldn’t help but look up when he came in.

   In all honesty Alec would absolutely love to go out with Magnus, but he couldn’t do that. He didn’t want to cause this stranger unnecessary pain so everyday when Magnus came in at exactly noon and asked him out he said no. He had gotten creative at this point, it was basically a game.

   Everyday went the same, Magnus would throw him a flirty wink as he took his coffee and would ask him to dinner or for a walk or for coffee (which Alec thought was the best date but he may just be biased) and everyday Alec would kindly decline, “Sorry I have homework.” or “Sorry I’m not gay.” Which was the biggest lie he could tell but Magnus didn’t need to know that, not that he believed the lie anyway.

   So when Magnus came in that day, looking fabulous as always, and started flirting with Alec, Alec got terribly annoyed. He wanted Magnus. He wanted to go on a date. He wanted to date, period. He had never had a girlfriend or boyfriend due to his illness and it was torture having to turn this incredibly hot guy down six days a week.

   Magnus winked at him when he handed Alec the money. Alec smiled politely back, wiping his hands on his apron before taking the money. “You know Alexander, I do love a man in a uniform.” Magnus said biting his thumb while he let his eyes travel unselfconsciously over Alec’s body. 

   Alec lost his cool and put his hand on the counter so roughly Magnus’ eyebrows raised. “Could you not? Maybe some people enjoy this but I don't. It's creepy, stop it.” Alec said, glaring at Magnus who actually looked a little sheepish. “I didn’t know it really bothered you that much. I'm sorry.” Magnus said quietly looking at his shoes, a rosy blush raising on his cheeks. Alec cursed and closed his eyes.

   He hadn’t meant to hurt Magnus’ feelings; he was just annoyed. “I-I’m sorry that was mean. It doesn’t bother me. I mean it does but not for the reason you’re thinking.” Alec muttered under his breath looking anyway but Magnus.

   Magnus lifted his eyes back up, their normal light dimmed considerably. “Then why does it bother you Alexander?” Alex blushed at the use of his full name. No one called him Alexander except his parents when they’re mad but Alec didn’t seem to mind much when Magnus did.

   Alec let out a deep breath and turned back to Magnus. “Well you see… it’s just… umm… I’m kinda...chronically ill? So you don’t really wanna date me, sorry.” He said cursing his cancer for the umpteenth time.

   Magnus’ eyes widened considerably and he opened his mouth only to close it multiple times. Alec sighed knowing he had just scared this hot guy away. He turned away from Magnus and went to make his coffee while Magnus thought that over.

   He hesitantly stepped back towards Magnus who was staring at him again. Alec shifted awkwardly before handing Magnus his coffee. “I’m really sorry, just so you know you don’t have to keep asking out of pity. I totally understand not wanting to date someone chronologically ill.” Alec said scratching the back of his neck, biting his lip. Magnus sat his coffee on the counter giving Alec a hard look.

   “Alexander, I apologize if I gave you that impression, it just shocked me is all. I would like you to know that I am still going to ask you out and it’s not because of pity I guarantee you.” Magnus said softly, Alec laughed a little. “I don’t think you understand, it’s not just chronic, it’ll kill me.” Alec said slowly.

   Magnus visibly flinched, frowning at Alec. “I will still ask you out unless you genuinely wish me to stop. As sad as that is, and it truly is Alexander, it just gives me more reason to ask you out now.” Alec stared at him for a few moments before slowly shaking his head, a smile crawling across his face. “Okay.”

   Magnus’ eyes widened again, a smile breaking across his face. “Wait really?” Alec laughed and nodded, laughing harder when Magnus literally jumped up and down. “Yes! I don’t have to drink coffee anymore!”

   Now it was Alec’s turn to raise an eyebrow, Magnus pursed his lips and looked at the ground. “I-I just mean, haha well, umm. I don’t like coffee.” Magnus said laughing again, Alec blinked at him in surprise. “Then why do you come here everyday?” Alec asked confused.. Who would come and get overpriced coffee every single day if they didn’t like coffee? 

   Magnus watched him with amused eyes. “It gives me an excuse to see you and ask you out everyday.” Magnus says nonchalantly, the shy blushing side leaving as fast as it came. Alec laughed loudly, his head thrown back, eyes shut. “You came here, every, single, day, just to ask me out?” Alec asked incredulously, Magnus smiled confidently as he said, “Yep.” and popped the ‘p’.

   Alec laughed again before taking Magnus’ cup back and writing his number neatly on the side. Magnus looked at his cup as if it had just done something beautiful. “Ah how cliche this is.” Alec shook his head a stupid smile still on his face. Izzy was going to freak out when he told her.

   Magnus shook himself out of his daze and raised his coffee. “Thank you for this and I will see you, Alexander, after work.” Alec nodded, watching amused as Magnus walked backwards out of the coffee shop, not once hitting a chair. Alec knew if he tried that he would have fallen almost immediately.

   Alec turned away from the door, not bothering to try and cover his growing smile. He had a date with an attractive guy who didn’t care that he was sick. Alec grabbed his phone, thanking whatever god there was that it was a slow day at work as he pressed Izzy’s name on his phone.

   She picked up on the second ring and Alec smiled as her voice floated through the phone. “Aren’t you at work?” She asked him immediately. Alec rolled his eyes, smile never faltering. “You’ll never guess what just happened.” ________________________________________

   Alec and Magnus ended up having a great date, which led to many more, and then they had been dating for three months.

   They were basically inseparable and when Magnus wasn’t at Alec and Jace’s apartment, Alec was at his. Alec’s health was getting better much to everyone’s amazement, Alec stayed cautious as he always was and Magnus was amazing and always asking if something was too much or if he just wanted to stay in. Magnus liked going on walks and so did Alec but he always had a hard time so Magnus would give Alec piggy back rides everywhere.

   They were in Magnus’ apartment watching Eli and Niomi’s No Kiss List when Alec felt a burning in his chest. He was rubbing his chest attempting to calm it before Magnus noticed. He was hoping that it wouldn’t be the start of something that would eventually lead him to the hospital but when he found it getting harder to breathe he excused himself and went to the bathroom to call Jace.

   He knew Jace would stay calm and make sure he was alright, he knew Magnus would too but he doubted Magnus’ ability to stay calm when Alec was in so much pain. 

   Jace picked up on the first ring with a chipper ‘hello!’. Alec let out a shuddering breath, his chest felt like it was caving in. “Hospital.” He said quietly holding his chest, waiting for a break from the pain. Jace’s playful tone left immediately. 

   “Alec where are you?” He asked urgently, his keys jingling in the background and then the sound of the door shutting. “Magnus’. About to leave.” He said weakly. Jace cursed and Alec heard his door shut. “I’ll meet you there.” He said before hanging up. Alec sat the phone down and looked at himself in the mirror.

   He was too pale and his eyes held too much pain. Alec cursed quietly, embarrassed at this having happened in front of Magnus. He was worried it would scare him off, seeing it in person as opposed to hearing about it.

   Alec walked into the living room slowly, walking getting hard with the lack of air he was getting. “Magnus.” He said quietly, too quietly since Magnus didn’t turn around and laughed at something in the movie.

   “Mags.” Alec said louder this time. Magnus turned around with a smile on his face, one that quickly fell when he saw Alec. “Hospital.” Alec said shakily as he walked to the door. Magnus cursed loudly and started frantically looking around for his keys. Once he found them he came over to Alec who was bracing himself on the door way, breathing too heavily.

   Magnus watched him with wide eyes and Alec felt a wave of guilt wash over him for having scared Magnus. Alec tried to smile reassuringly, but it was interrupted by the worst pain yet. Alec gasped and his legs gave out sending him crashing to the floor. Magnus caught him before he fell, adjusting him so he could carry Alec to the car.

   Alec finally let himself cry and buried his head in Magnus’ chest whimpering softly. “It hurts.” He said quietly, shaking from lack of oxygen. Magnus was running now, he hadn't waited for the elevator instead running down the stairs. Normally Alec would be scared that Magnus was running so fast and concerned he would be dropped, but Alec couldn’t focus on anything other than the immense burning in his chest.

   Magnus kissed the top of his head murmuring a comforting, “I know.” quietly before finally reaching his car and setting Alec as gently as he could in the passenger seat. Alec just curled into himself as if he could protect his lungs from the disease currently killing him.

   He had a small moment of panic realizing that this could be it. He could genuinely, truly be dying right now. He quickly decided he would rather have death than having to endure the pain any longer. 

   Magnus was driving crazy and Alec wanted to tell him to slow down, to stop and focus but he couldn’t force anymore words out of his mouth. His vision was starting to spot, little stars messing his sight up. He closed his eyes instead, willing them to go away but they just got worse.

   Alec reached blindly for Magnus’ hand and Magnus quickly latched onto it. Alec squeezed his hand tightly, something he always did to Jace when he wasn’t able to talk anymore. It was comforting to feel Magnus squeeze his hand back. He was going to be fine, he had to be. 

   And with that thought everything went black.

_________________________________________

   Alec had expected the event to scare Magnus away but Magnus did the opposite. He seemed to understand the severity of Alec’s condition and Jace had talked to him while Alec was unconscious. 

   Magnus was now constantly asking if Alec was okay and if anything hurt. It was annoying most of the time but it was nice to know Magnus cared so much.

   When they reached their tenth anniversary, Alec moved in with Magnus. It had been good timing since Jace had been wanting to live with Clary. Clary moved into Alec’s old apartment with Jace and Alec moved in with Magnus.

   When Alec’s birthday came around everyone threw him a big party, a ‘congratulations you haven't died yet!’ kind of party. Quite honestly Alec was also surprised. 

   He had never had much to live for, just his siblings, but Magnus made him want to live. He made him want to try things, not just to exist, but to make the best of it. For once he was living not to die, but to have fun. He was living for himself. Magnus made him happier than he ever thought possible.

   Which was why when the expected happened, he was ready.

_________________________________________

   Alec got a lot worse around the time of their one year mark. He found it harder to breathe a lot of the time, as if an elephant had taken permanent residence on his chest. Alec knew it was coming, so did everyone else but Magnus refused to accept it.

   “You’re not going to die. It’s not allowed, you can’t leave me.” Alec frowned. There wasn’t much he could do about the fact that he wasn’t always going to be here. “Mags. I know you don’t like thinking about it but it will be so much worse if you don’t accept the fact that it’s happening.” Magnus glared at him. “I don’t want to.” He said as if that was the end of the argument. 

   “Magnus, stop it. I’m going to die and you’re going to have to find someone else to make you happy. You’re my boyfriend and I love you so much, but I am not going to be here and you have to move on when I’m gone. You have to.” Alec was winded by his short rant but he stopped breathing completely when Magnus said in a quiet voice, “I don’t want to be your boyfriend.” 

   Alec froze for a moment before looking away, embarrassed at the tears in his eyes. He knew this was coming so why was he getting so upset? “I-If you don’t want to be my boyfriend Magnus i am not going to force you to.” Magnus eyes went wide and he surged forward hugging Alec tightly. “God no. No, no, no. That is not what I meant.”

   Magnus was rubbing soothing circles on his back and Alec had to take a few shuddery breaths before he found his voice. “Then what did you mean?” Alec asked, weaker than he meant to. 

   Magnus pulled away from his with a determined look in his eyes. “We should get married. I don’t want to be your boyfriend that sounds too insignificant. I want to be your husband. I want to give you your happy ever after.” Alec froze again before shaking his head. “Mags no. I can’t do that to you.” Magnus shook his head, eyes narrowed in thought. “Yes you can. I’m asking you, Alexander.” 

   Alec smiled sadly at him and shook his head. “It’ll just break your heart.” Alec said slowly, eyes cast downward. Magnus tilted Alec’s head up with his finger, eyes locked on each other. “Then break it Alexander. I give you permission. Shatter it.” Alec faltered at that. Was Magnus so sure of this he would break his own heart?

   Alec watched Magnus for a minute before stating quietly. “I will but you have to really think about this. I’m serious, not some spur of the moment thing. Think about it, I probably won’t last more than three months.” Magnus flinched at that but nodded anyway, giving Alec a shy smile. The kind of smile that was reserved for Alec and Alec only.

   “I have thought about it. A lot actually. Alexander, I’m serious about this. I really want to get married.” Alec watched Magnus with contemplating eyes, before a bright smile stretched across his face.

   “Okay.”

_________________________________________

   

   Magnus and Alec went and got married the next week at the courthouse. They were planning a wedding but they wanted to do this just in case something happened beforehand. Jace, Izzy, Clary, Simon, and Rapheal were all there.

   Magnus and Alec both cried, both refusing to admit the fact afterwards. 

   It was the best moment in Alec’s entire life and he thought back to that fateful day at the coffee shop and silently thanked his short temper.

   Alec and Magnus spent the next few months planning the wedding, they had moved the date around a lot but finally settled on waiting a month. Everytime Alec looked at Magnus he felt a warmth bloom in his chest. 

   Everything about their everyday lives was great. Magnus had gotten a cat who he named Chairman Meow, Alec had pretended to hate him but Magnus often came home to Alec asleep on the couch, Chairman Meow nestled on his chest.

   It pained Magnus to see Alec grow weaker everyday, it pained Alec to see Magnus in pain. They had many late night discussions on what was going to happen after. Sometimes there were tears, other times there were laughs, but mostly they just held each other and thanked god for the time they had spent together.

   Everything was busy the day before the wedding. Magnus and Alec both had their suits and were spending the day together before tomorrow happened and they were crowded by everyone.

   They spent the day eating ice cream and watching movies. They played games and fondly referred to each other as husband even though they had technically been married for a little over a month.

   That day Alec had felt more at ease than he ever had before. He felt at peace.

   That night when Alec woke up gasping for air refusing to go to the hospital Magnus had cried begging him over and over to not go. To not leave him. Alec had begged him in return to not be mad.

   Only when Magnus had forgiven him for leaving him did Alec reach out tentatively kissing Magnus one more time before falling into a peaceful sleep. 

   The only pain he could feel was the emptiness where Magnus had once been.

[fallenrepublick]

can i request fluff where reader pretends not cold but maul knows otherwise and warms them up 🤗

God I miss the winter

Warnings: None

Winter sings as color fades, and in its place grows the symphony of knives that few learn to manage without a constant struggle. Those that do thrive under the barren existence in the bitter months understand with a painful amount of nihilism that it’s wiser to flow with the ice than against it. The sort of man that you were inclined to love at this point was a ringing reminder that you were not that type of person. But when you fight the cold, you tend to lose.

It was snowing. Again. The past few days had brought the accumulation of the pure substance to the highest amount of the year, the ice reaching nearly the height of the palace’s doors. All day, you had been lounging inside your room, huddled in the blankets that had been covering your bed, mostly reading. If you did leave the room, you either took the blanket with you, or dressed in layer upon layer of jackets. You didn’t like spending the day this way. If anything, you wanted to be at least in the common areas of the palace, socializing and spending time with Maul as he pieced away at his tasks for the day. But, the moment the freezing floor hit the bottom of your foot, you recoiled immediately and curled back up on the chair or the bed.

Periodically, Maul checked in on you, fearful that something may be wrong or you could be falling ill. Each time he knocked, and each time, you sat up straight, pretending that you hadn’t been completely wound into a ball seconds prior.

“You’re alright?” he would say, frowning at you as he leaned in from the doorway. “You haven’t been out. You’re not sick or upset, are you?

You would smile at him, chest tightening to force yourself not to shiver while he still could see you. “I’m fine, just a bit worn out is all!” Your voice was as cheery and positive as you could make it, really leaning in on your attempt to sound convincing. It wasn’t working as well as you wanted it to. When he heard your response, his frown only hardened, but he accepted the answer nevertheless and returned to his meetings.

Eventually, the midday light simmered into a caramel glow outside your window pane, and the sheer amount of time that you had spent in that room became apparent. Looking out at the city skyline, the outline of the sun disappearing cleanly beneath the buildings’ bodies, you wished for the ice to melt and the warmth of spring to return the life that you so dearly missed. But, the opportunity wouldn’t come for another few months, and there would soon come a day that you would need to push past your reclusivity and steel your resolve. Today would not be that day, though.

Maul didn’t knock as he entered, and it was only then that he finally saw what you had been truly doing all day. You sat in the middle of the bed, the navy sheets and comforter wrapped from the front of your torso all the way around your back and over your head, forming a spherical cocoon around you. Maul had opened his mouth to say something, but upon seeing the state you were in, had ended up simply staring at you, mouth agape and shock freezing him into place. It was too late for you to hide anything, but still, you tried.

“Hi… How uh… How was your day?” you asked him, trying to ignore the way he was looking at you as if it wasn’t obvious. “You’re back earlier than I was expecting.”

Blinking a couple times, he stepped fully into the room and shut the door behind him. “You’re cold, aren’t you?” he asked finally, the annoyance that he hadn’t realized it sooner echoing in his voice. “Of course, you are. These halls insulate practically nothing.”

You shook your head fervently, holding up your hands as you did so. “No! I’m perfectly fine. I just… felt like being comfortable today.”

He laughed, the hum of it vibrating deep in his chest. Coming up beside you on the bed, he sat close by, the heat off of him already radiating powerfully enough for you to feel it. “I know when you’re lying to me. Don’t think I don’t know you better than you know yourself.” His voice had gotten smoother if at all possible, and the smirk he gave you was enough for you to want to admit to your lie almost immediately.

“I’m really alright,” you insisted anyways, not wanting to have to be reliant on him for literally everything. “Even if I were cold, I have everything I need in here to warm me up.” It wasn’t a complete lie, but blankets and lamps only did so much.

“Be that as it may, the needs of one’s life often rests within the grasp of the desires of their heart, and it has occurred to me, my queen, that I neglected you far too much today.” He pulled the edges of the blanket towards him, engulfing himself into the mass as well, wrapping his arms around you. In no time at all, you felt heat pouring into your body, his skin warm against your own. You rested your head onto his chest, hearing his hearts beat in tandem with each other, slow and powerful in comparison to your own.

The sharp air around you fell away, and you were left with only the comfort that had been so elusive in the hours prior. “I’m sorry I worried you,” you whispered, your position making you sleepier than you would like to admit. “I didn’t want to bother you with anything, because you seemed busy.”

His hand lifted to brush at your hair, his fingers caressing your scalp, seeming to coax you into sleep. “I could never be too busy for you. Your comfort takes precedence over any duty I have, and though I may seem preoccupied at times, any and all responsibility I burden myself with pales in comparison to your needs. 

The world may be burning around me, but the fire that drives me to your aid carries with it an incandescence that no blaze could outshine.”

[atlafan]

Ok I’ve had a tough week and i tend to shut people out and bottle it up 🙃 but Harry trying to get you to open up constantly and you keep pretending things are fine but i feel like Harry’s the kind of guy that, when his hearts in if, he doesn’t quit so one day he tries to get a nice dinner or maybe wine and popcorn and a movie but you won’t budge until he does and he goes off because all he wants to do is help and he knows he can and finally you just melt into him and he feels like you’re back

a/n: I’m so sorry you’ve had a tough week! and even sorrier I didn’t respond to this right away. I hope this helps!! 

Kiwi 

She was...off. Harry couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but she wasn’t her normal self. Usually when he was gone for a longer stretch, it was excitement, happy tears, and her legs wrapped around him when he’d come through the door. But this time around, it was tight hug and kiss on the cheek. 

Was she mad at him for being gone so long? They talked every day, and he would always get home to her as quickly as he could. He took her out for dinner that night, not something they usually did. He thought she would enjoy a public outing to one of their favorite places. But when she barely ate any of her food, he realized something had to be terrible wrong. 

“Everything alright, love?” He asked, taking a sip of his drink.

“Hm? Oh, yeah, I’m fine.” She gives him a half smile. 

“You’ve been quiet.”

“Just don’t have much to say, I guess.” You take a spoon full of your dinner, and put it in your mouth, swallowing hard. “I’m fine, really. Food is delicious tonight.”

The conversation perked up from there, but she still didn’t seem quite right. As they got into bed, they spooned like they usually did, but when Harry tried to make a move, she swatted his hand away. Quite literally something she never did. 

“Sorry, babe, I’m just feeling full from dinner. Maybe in the morning?” She kissed him goodnight, and went back on her side. 

In the year and half the two had been together, Harry couldn’t think of a time where he had been away, come back to her, and she’s didn’t want his clothes off immediately. It was a long month to be away. But they were both so used to it, why was she so pissed?

The next morning he got up to make her favorite breakfast. He knew it was one way to apologize for being gone so long. But when she only took a small bite of her avocado toast, he began to get irritated. 

“Darlin’?” He said, next to her at their kitchen island. 

“Yeah?”

“You’ve barely touched your breakfast...everything alright? This not your favorite anymore?”

“Still my favorite, just not starved I guess. I’m sorry. I’ll wrap it up and eat it later.” She gets up, but he grabs her wrist.

“Can ya just tell me what I did?” She gives him a confused look. “It’s killin’ me.”

“What are you talking about?”

“If you’re mad at me, can you just tell me why?”

“Mad at you?” She yanks her wrist out of his grasp. “Why would I be mad at you?”

“You’ve sort of been in a funk these last couple of days.”

“No I haven’t.”

“Babe...”

“Harry would you please just drop it?! I told you I was fine, and believe it or not, not every little thing in my life is about you! So leave it alone, please!” 

She barely spoke a word to him over the next couple of days, other than a few good mornings, good nights, and faint I love yous. She was shutting him out, but she didn’t know what else to do when she felt like complete and utter shit. She felt bad for yelling at him, but she didn’t have the energy to apologize. She stayed cooped up in the room that was used as her office. Harry would bring her in meals, not knowing what else to do for her. He didn’t want to set her off again. 

He decided to put together the one thing she loved more than anything. A home dinner and movie. Harry queued up her favorite comedy, I Love You Man, made some tacos with all the fixins, and lit a couple candles. He even went out to get he favorite type of red wine. 

She heard a faint tap on the door to her office, and turned around to see a shy Harry. 

“Feel like takin’ a break? I got somethin’ to show ya.” She gives him a small smile and nods. 

Her jaw dropped when she saw the scene before her. Harry was such a good boyfriend. He turned to him, and hugged him tightly. 

“All my favorite things.” She beams at him. 

“All for my favorite.” He plants a kiss to the top of her head. 

They sit down on the couch, and dig into the tacos. 

“Mmm, Harry, you make the best tacos.” Her appetite had suddenly come back, or so it seemed. 

“Glad you like ‘em. Oh! I got that wine you like, lemme go open it, then we can start the movie.”

“No don’t!” She yells, making him sit right back down. “I can’t have any wine.”

“Why not?” She sighs and puts her plate down.

“I know I’ve been a little insufferable these last few days, not the most fun to be around.” She was finally going to tell him what was wrong. Who knew all it took was tacos? “Before you left...well...you gave me a proper shag, Harry.” He smirks.

“I remember.” 

“And it was wonderful, but, you may also recall I was on antibiotics for that sinus infection, and double ear infection I had.”

“I felt terrible leavin’ you so ill.” She clears her throat. 

“we had sex without a condom.”

“As we tend to do. You’re on the pill.”

“Yes...but sometimes...” She pinches the bridge of her nose, and takes a deep breath. “Sometimes certain antibiotics can counteract birth control.” Harry feels his heart stop. “I was supposed to get my period last week...I didn’t think much of it when it didn’t come. Sometimes it’s irregular, only, when you’re on the pill, it’s not irregular. So...for kicks I had one of my friends go down to the drug store for me to buy a pregnancy test. I wanted to rule everything out.” She looks away and blushes. “My mind kept racing back to that night, you had done that thing where you pushing all your come back inside me.” She looks back at him. He’s as pale as a ghost. “Anyways, the test came back positive. I was absolutely beside myself, but I tried not to panic, those things are wrong all the time. So a couple days before you got back I went to see my doctor, and she gave me a proper test.”

“And...have you...gotten the results?”

“Harry, I’m pregnant.” He places a hand on your knee as tears start to fall. 

“Why, why didn’t you tell me when I first came home?”

“Because I had barely accepted it myself! I was scared to see how you’d react. I know we’ve been together for almost two years, but that’s really not a long time to be with someone. I know you love babies, but what I’m not the one you pictures having babies with? I couldn’t handle the disappointment. And...I mean...this is all my fault. I should’ve made sure you had a condom on, but I was selfish, and I wasn’t thinking.” He takes her in and presses her to his chest.

“Hey, hey, it’s alright, love. Takes two to tango, this is on both of us. It’s a little shocking, but I’m over the moon.” She pulls away to look at him.

“Really?”

“Sure! Wasn’t quite in the plan at the moment, but it was in the plan nonetheless. How could you think I wouldn’t want you as the mother of my children?”

“I don’t know...you...really saw this down the road for us?”

“Of course! Maybe not so soon, but yeah. Look, we’ll make this work. You may have to come with me a little more often. I wanna be by your side through all  of this.” He sighs. “I feel terrible you’ve been going through this alone. I wish you hadn’t shut me out like that.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I’m just no good at dealing with this kind of stuff, Harry.”

“Well, you don’t have to go it alone anymore. I’m right here with you.” 

He kisses her tenderly, and keeps her in his arms. 

“Wow, I’m gonna be a daddy!” He giggles. “And you, a mum! You’ll be the mum, I can already picture it.” 

For a moment, she wondered why she was so scared to tell him the truth. She had no reason to think he wouldn’t be happy. She had just gotten into her own head as she often did. She was lucky to have such a wonderful man by her side. 

[saiilorstars]

Star-Crossed

Previous Story || Current Masterlist

Chapter 5: Surprise, Surprise

Fandom: Doctor Who

Pairing: 10th Doctor x Female OC

Taglist: @ocfairygodmother @anotherunreadblog @maaaaarveeeeel

(Minerva’s face claim: Victoria Camacho)

(Kaeya’s face claim: Michelle Trachtenberg)

~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~

Chapter summary: Minerva takes a trip back home to visit her grandmother, only she then learns about her father's condition.

"Where are we now?" Donna looked around a suburban street, quite peaceful with only a couple children playing on the lawns of their homes. The Doctor and Minerva walked beside her, hand in hand.

"San Diego, California," Minerva replied, "Otherwise known as my home — well, second. My first home is with my Martian," she glanced at him.

"Right," Donna nodded, missing the pair's small moment, "And your parents live in the main city, your grandmother here."

She and Minerva had gotten to talking more and more about their families and Donna had expressed her interest in seeing the small town Minerva had grown up in. Minerva had also said she'd like to meet Donna's family but Donna said she just wasn't...ready. To Donna's mother, she was simply at a friend's house. Sylvia knew nothing of Donna's actual travels in time and space. So, Minerva had settled for showing Donna her hometown in the meantime they figured out Donna's family. Plus, there was another reason for coming back to San Diego today...

"My grandmother called and said she wanted to see me," Minerva explained the reason of their visit, "So naturally, I obeyed."

Minerva regretted all the time wasted avoiding her grandmother and wanted to take advantage of their time now. She didn't like to think about it but she knew there was no point in denying it, her grandmother was elderly and she could get ill and, well...die. So now, she was there any time Isadora called. The Doctor had even once offered to bring the elderly woman for a trip. He'd seen Minerva so ecstatic with the idea once he mentioned it he just had to keep it going and offered Isadora a trip to any place she wanted. The trio had ended up in the coronation of Queen Isabella II of Spain, finally getting there. The Doctor had let the grandmother and granddaughter bond during that trip, basking in the glowing joy of his clever girl to spend such a trip with her grandmother.

No more time being wasted, period.

The trio passed the Donovan's house, little Tamara seeing the familiar couple and hollering for them, "Minerva! Minerva! Doctor!" she ran up to the gate, her small hands trying to open the door.

"Hi Tamara," Minerva greeted, opening the gate for her and received the five year old's hug around her leg.

"Stacey's coming home! Stacey's coming home!" Tamara cheered, her brunette locks covering half her chocolate-brown eyes when she looked up.

"She is?" Minerva's eyes widened, her childhood friend was returning home!?

"I told her you came back home and she got really excited and said she wanted to come home and she said her vacation was coming up and she was gonna come home and-"

"She talks a lot, just like you," the Doctor swooped up the kid into his arms, "Does Stacey talk a lot?'

"Oi!" Minerva frowned.

"That's rude," Tamara giggled, poking the Doctor's cheek.

"Right, can't be mean to my girlfriend. Sorry dear," he gave Minerva a small peck.

Donna chuckled at Tamara's distasteful faces due to the pair's lip contact. Tamara shook her head, "Yuck!"

"I used to say the same thing when I was your age, kid," Minerva ruffled her hair, "And then I met a certain man that just had the best kisses. He stole my first kiss! Literally!"

"Best decision I ever made," the Doctor shrugged.

He had often found himself thinking about that first moment where he'd literally taken a kiss from Minerva. What if he hadn't done that? What if he had done something different like kiss Martha instead? As Tamara would say, yuck! Martha was beautiful no doubt, but...Minerva was just stunning in comparison to other women. He really couldn't imagine kissing anyone else but her. And so, if he hadn't kissed Minerva in that hospital...would they have ever developed feelings for each other?

"So you gonna introduce me or what?" Donna stepped up, Tamara studying her with intent.

"Donna, I'd like you to meet Tamara Donovan, little sister of one of my closest childhood friends," Minerva gestured to the five year old, "She's a cutie-pie and quite fun!"

"I am very pretty," Tamara nodded innocently, making the trio laugh.

"Gonna get all the boys later, then?" Donna teased.

"I think she's already giving my Martian the eyes," Minerva said.

"No I don't!" Tamara stuck her tongue out, "Boys are ew!"

"I'm not 'ew'," the Doctor frowned, "I'm amazing!"

"Boys have cooties."

"No I don't."

"Yes you do, all boys have cooties. The only reason I let you hold me is because you have good candy!"

"I don't have cooties," he repeated, "Just ask Minerva. I kiss her all the time and—"

"Doctor," Minerva scolded him, "Tamara doesn't need to know what we do in our time alone."

"Tamara?" Eliza Donovan called as she stepped onto her front porch.

"Right here Mommy!" Tamara waved a hand.

"Oh, what are you doing?" Eliza shook her head and walked down the front lawn, stopping in front of the trio, "John, I'm so sorry. She just loves being picked up all the time," she took Tamara into her arms, "Even though she knows she's too big," she gave Tamara a scolding look.

"John?" Donna cast a confused a look to the Doctor.

"Yes Donna, John. Doctor John Smith," Minerva eyed her until she got the message that it was an established lie in the area.

Since the Doctor and Minerva had started coming around the town more often, Isadora's old neighbors started questioning who the tall man in the pinstripe suit was. Isadora, knowing just how curious her neighbors were, decided to go ahead and give them the Doctor's earth name to avoid any pestering questions.

"Mommy, I told Minerva that Stacey was coming home," Tamara explained.

"Is that true, Mrs. Donovan?" Minerva asked hopefully, "Is she coming back?"

"Just for a small break," Mrs. Donovan replied, "She really wanted to see you."

"I would love to see Stacey again! You just call me when she's coming and I'll be here!"

"I sure will," Mrs. Donovan looked at Donna with curiosity.

The pair, since Martha departed, had usually came alone to the town. There was only one blonde woman who occasionally dropped by, but Mrs. Donovan remembered that she was called Astrid Peth. She knew for a fact the ginger lady had not been around yet.

"Oh, this is our friend, Donna Noble," Minerva said, "She's with us now."

"Hi, Eliza Donovan," Mrs. Donovan shook Donna's hand.

"Nice to meet you," Donna smiled.

"We'll be on our way, my grandmother called," Minerva explained.

"Oh, yes..."

Minerva noticed the change in her tone and face rather fast, "Is something wrong?"

"Um...uh," Mrs. Donovan looked around, clearly trying to avoid the answer, "You know what, we'll see you around. Tamara has homework to do, say goodbye Tamara."

"Bye!" Tamara waved, the trio waving back. Mrs. Donovan hurriedly went back to her house.

"I've gotta go to my grandmother's," Minerva dashed off, "Something's wrong!"

~ 0 ~

"Grandma! Grandma!" Minerva fiercely knocked on her grandmother's front door, "Open up, please!"

The Doctor and Donna were just making it into the front lawn of Isadora's house when Isadora herself opened up, nearly taking a knock on her face, "Oh! Minerva, calm down sweetie," she laughed as Minerva blinked with surprise.

"S-sorry..."

"What's with all the knocking?" Isadora asked, the Doctor shrugging for an apology, "Or pounding, I should say," Minerva remained quiet. Now that her grandmother had finally opened up and seemed alright, she didn't really know what to say, "Minerva? I asked a question," Isadora gave her a sharp look.

"Um...Mrs. Donovan..." Minerva pointed behind, "...she, um, she..." she took a deep breath, "Grandma, what's wrong?"

Isadora smiled broadly, but Minerva knew she was just doing it for her sake, "Why don't you come in," Isadora took her hand and walked her inside, "I see you've found a new friend, hi dear," Isadora turned to greet Donna, holding her hand out, "Isadora Lozano."

"Donna Noble," the ginger shook Isadora's hand.

"This is my grandmother, Donna," Minerva mumbled absently, her mind occupied thinking of anything that could be wrong.

"Now why the face?" Isadora turned to her granddaughter.

"Something is wrong and you are trying to hide it from me," she frowned, "Tell me."

"...it's your father," she spoke after a brief moment of pause.

"What's wrong with my dad?"

"Nothing, nothing is wrong right now," Isadora quickly assured, "He's been going to the doctor and so far, everything is fine."

"Wh-why has he been going to a doctor?" Minerva's frowned deepened, her heart beginning to pick up its speed with fear.

"He's been having some difficulty breathing but it's fine!" Isadora tried to keep her calmed but it was her father she was talking about. No matter how much Minerva tried to keep it hidden, she would always love her parents and would always need them.

"It can't be fine if you called me for that," Minerva shook her head, "Tell me what's going on, please."

"There's nothing wrong right now, but..."

Minerva awaited for the bloody answer but Isadora kept quiet, just looking at Minerva she knew she was going to become overly worried. Even the Doctor and Donna shared a concerned glance, both keeping silent as the tension built up.

"WELL?" Minerva stuttered, nearly trembling to get the answer. She had recalled Marisol's words about her father's issues and while it had made her upset in the beginning, she started to believe that Marisol could've just been messing with her. But now that she looked at her grandmother's face she knew that it was no joke.

"They think he could have Atherosclerosis..."

Minerva tilted her head, a moment in confusion, but she knew what that was, it was part of her anatomy class in high school, "N-no..." she stepped back.

"They think, they're not sure yet," Isadora tried to clarify once more that her son-in-law could in fact be healthy, but Minerva shook her head...terrified beyond belief.

"He's-he's sick..." Minerva's eyes watered up, she stumbled back, "That's not true," she shook her head, "That can't be true..."

"Well, not yet, they're still not sure," Isadora glanced at the silent pair for help, mostly towards the Doctor seeing as he was now the only one who could cheer her granddaughter up.

The Doctor stepped to the brunette's side, putting a hand on her arm, "Minerva, maybe you should si—"

"Don't," she shook off his hand, "It's not true. My dad can't be sick. He's...he's my dad!"

He sighed, "But—"

"I said don't!" she snapped, walking around the trio towards the door, "None of this can be true, it can't be..."

"Minerva, where are you going?" Isadora called but she didn't reply, only the sound of the door being slammed shut coming as a response, "Well, that went well," she mumbled.

"Is it really that bad, though?" Donna asked, the reminder of her own father's passing flashing through her head. She didn't want that to happen to Minerva's father, she knew what it felt like to lose a father and...and she wouldn't wish it on anyone, not even her worst enemy.

"It just started a couple weeks ago, Nicolas said he was having some fatigue."

"But doesn't the man work twenty-four seven?" the Doctor reminded, a bit harsh even if he tried to suppress his irritation with Nicolas Souza for the suffering of Minerva.''

"He collapsed on the job, Doctor," Isadora announced, sadly, "He was in the middle of a case and..." she shrugged, "...just went down to the floor."

"Is he being treated?" Donna quickly questioned, perhaps if he did have something wrong he could receive the attention faster and be healed...or at least controlled.

"You can't exactly treat something that's not identified. But it shouldn't take long anymore, just a couple days and we'll have the results."

"Why are you telling Minerva, though?" the Doctor turned to the elderly woman, "Why not Sophia? Nicolas himself?"

"Sophia is working all the time," Isadora sighed, "She's not there. Nicolas, he asked me not to."

The Doctor paused a moment after hearing that, "I'm sorry...what?"

Isadora understood the shock as well, she herself stunned when Nicolas nearly pleaded her not to tell Minerva anything of his health. It had been the first time in many years that the man had actually showed some emotion for anything.

"Nicolas asked me, begged me, not to tell Minerva anything. He...didn't want to worry her."

Donna looked between the two and tried lifting the mood up a little, "Well...isn't that good, then? Minerva told me all about her dad and how he just shut down. Isn't that good that he's actually caring for Minerva?"

"It's a bit sudden, don't you think?" the Doctor muttered.

"Better late than never," Donna countered.

"Look, I thought Minerva deserved to know what was going on here so she could visit Nicolas," Isadora explained, "I think it could do well to both of them. It's been four years, I think it's time for her to come home."

"A lonely home? Yeah, that's not gonna happen. I won't let it," the Doctor shook his head, determined to keep any more pain for his clever girl away from her.

"I'm not saying she has to stay here, Doctor. But even you must admit it would do good for Minerva to see her parents and work everything out. Because you know, in a long shot, it would truly help her."

The Doctor opened his mouth to retaliate but he knew damn well that it would help Minerva. So he sighed...because if it would help Minerva...

...then he would try to do everything in his power to make it happen.

~0~

Minerva sat on her grandmother's front porch, on the wooden bench against the wall...sniffling as tears streamed down her face. She heard the door open up, followed by a couple of foot steps, "Hey, I thought maybe you could use some tea or something," Donna stood in front of her.

"I prefer coffee," Minerva mumbled, her gaze locked down on her lap.

"Oh, guess I didn't know that huh?"

"Sorry, that was rude," Minerva shook her head, "But listen Donna, can I just be alone please?"

"But you don't really want that, do you?" Donna took a seat beside her, putting the tea on a small table beside her, "I know that's not what I wanted last year. When my dad died, my mum was a mess, she had to shut herself down for weeks. It just left my granddad and me. I kept telling him to leave me alone, leave my room, all I wanted to do was be alone..." she chuckled lightly, gazing ahead as she remembered those first dark days after losing her father, "...but my granddad, he never listened. He was there with me, helping me out," she turned to face Minerva, "That's what you're doing right now. And you better button it up cause I'm not leaving, not until the Doctor comes to take my place."

"Where is he?" she looked up, Donna smiling softly at the necessity of the spaceman the brunette had in her eyes. It was as if he could make everything better, and to Minerva, he probably could.

"He's inside, having a talk with Isadora. He was going to come out first but I said, 'oh no spaceman, you let me try first," Donna shrugged, "So naturally, he obeyed and I came out."

"Without an argument?"

"I know how to keep them shut."

Minerva just smiled, "That's a first. I can't ever keep him quiet."

"Unless you snog him," Donna said absently, taking a second to realize what she had just said, "Which I will not be doing anytime soon," she cringed, "Ever."

"Good to know," Minerva leaned her head on Donna's arm, falling silent for a minute, "Donna, how did it feel to lose your dad?"

"Mm, like...like a chunk of me went down to the ground with him," Donna sighed, "It's just not a good feeling at all. It's awful."

"Yeah, I figured...that's what I felt when Olivia died," Minerva said, "I don't want to lose my dad. I know we don't have a good relationship..." she paused and thought, "...okay, we have no relationship at all, but...he's my dad in the end. I love him, and...and I don't want anything bad to happen to him or my mom."

"Well listen, it's still early, there's a lot of things that can be done. Don't think about death, think about helping him right now."

"But he doesn't want to see me."

"How do you know that, eh?" Donna softly smiled, oh if only that brunette knew her father had begged for her not to know about this, "Ever given him a call?"

'Well, no...he doesn't want to speak to me."

"That sounds like excuses to me," Donna stood up, "C'mon, give him a call. You never know, that could help him a lot."

"Donna you don't understand, I haven't seen my parents in four years. I haven't spoken to my father in four years," Minerva looked up, her face stained with tears.

"Then end that! Come on, give him a call. I know he'll be delighted to hear his daughter's voice," she said with a knowing smile.

"No...I can't."

"Oh yes you can," the Doctor startled her as he walked out of the house, holding a landline telephone in his hand, "And I'm gonna be there until you hang up."

Minerva shook her head, "No."

The Doctor nodded to Donna, the ginger understanding he was gonna go for a try, "I'll take this inside," Donna picked up the tea cup and headed for the door.

"Please don't cry," the Doctor sighed, taking his seat where Donna had been, "I really hate when you cry."

"I'm telling you, I have enough water to fill up the Thames...twice!" Minerva sniffled, trying to turn away from him. She despised when he saw her cry so when she could move she always tried to give him her back.

But it wasn't as if the Doctor would have any of that. "C'mon," he moved her back, managing to pull her onto his lap, "It's alright, you know. You don't have to hide from me, silly. I want to be here cause you need me, I need to be here."

When Minerva knew there was no more point in hiding, she took him as a comforter and snuggled to him, resting her head on his chest, "I don't want him to die, Martian. I don't!" she burst into fresh tears.

The Doctor held her closely and tight, cursing himself for not being able to do something to help her. He was the Doctor, he should be able to stop her from ever crying! What was wrong with him!?

"I already lost a sister, I can't handle losing my dad!"

"Why don't we give him a call?" he suggested, reaching for the phone beside them, "Find out what's really going on, yeah?"

"It can't be true," she sighed, sounding so defeated the Doctor desisted in his insistence for the moment, "My dad can't be sick. He's not supposed to be sick...he should never be sick."

"Minerva, I know it's hard for you to accept that because you love him, he's your father but..."

"I have to accept reality," she finished, letting her head drop down, "I always talk about being realistic but right now I can't. When I picture my dad, I picture him working, being the amazing lawyer he is. Even if he hates me, I picture him fine and healthy. He can't be sick, I'd rather be sick."

"Don't you dare," he warned her jokingly, managing to get a small smile from her.

"Now all I want to do is rush up to him and hug him, tell him I'm gonna be there for him all the time and-" she felt a poke on her arm and she looked to the side to the Doctor holding the phone again, "But he won't take my call," she whispered and pushed the phone away.

"Look, Sophia is the one that has been making the calls. Nicolas hasn't done anything yet, maybe that's a sign that he regrets his actions. Plus...I have certain knowledge that he may care for you..." he had decided to ignore Nicolas's request of Minerva not knowing about his health.

The Doctor figured, after a talk with Isadora, that perhaps Nicolas was beginning to realize his mistake. Additionally, what he had just said was true. Nicolas, from what Minerva told him, never made harsh calls like Sophia did. The Doctor dared to believe that meant something else about Nicolas, he'd take this risk solely because it would make Minerva extremely happy to have her father again. And if it all turned out to be rubbish then he'd personally smack himself endlessly for putting Minerva through that pain.

"Let's find out," the Doctor waved the phone in front of Minerva, "And if he does want to see you, I'll bring you down to your house right after you hung up."

"And if he doesn't? If he doesn't want to see me? Doctor, that'll really break my heart. My dad could be dying and I won't be allowed to see him...just like Olivia," Minerva rubbed her eyes before they let water stream down, "Just another family member I won't be able to properly say goodbye to."

"But you don't know that. I don't know why but I get the feeling Nicolas isn't as bad as Sophia is. He shut down completely after Olivia died, but he never insulted you afterwards. I'm not calling him the dad of the year because I know he didn't treat you right either, but I'm just saying that perhaps, he's a better person now. C'mon, give him a call," the Doctor waved the phone once more with a small smile.

"Will you...will you stay with me?" Minerva hesitated in reaching for the phone until he answered.

"You can't make me leave," he smiled at her, "Now, shall we make a call to my in-law?" she giggled, reaching for the phone and missing him blush for what he said. He hadn't meant to...it had just slipped out!

"I'll call home, that's my best shot," Minerva started dialing on the phone, the Doctor intently watching. After a moment of ringing, Minerva looked up, a tad shy for some reason, "Do you mind if I place it on speaker? I would feel a lot better..." she trailed off.

"If it makes you feel better then go for it," he pressed a short kiss to her lips, "I'll be silent as the night."

"That'll be a first," Minerva mumbled, squealing when he jolted her, "Ah!" she looked at him with a mock-glare, the Doctor responding with a cheeky smile.

"Mrs. Lozano, what can I do for you?," the voice of Hayley interrupted their moment.

"Um...hello," Minerva spoke highly quietly, "Hayley?"

"Yes, who is this?"

"It's, um, it's Minerva...Joy," Minerva corrected herself. In her house, by her mother's orders, she was to be called Joy even if Minerva repeatedly wished they didn't. That was just one right of her a taken away, the choice of her name.

"Miss Joy? Really!?"

"No, just Joy. Well, actually, I prefer Minerva. But listen, I was just phoning because I heard dad was sick."

"Who is that, Hayley?" Minerva's mother's voice called in the background.

Minerva looked at the Doctor, swallowing with fear. He rested a hand on her back and rubbed it soothingly, encouraging her to stay on the line despite of Sophia. She wasn't the one they needed anyways.

"It's Joy, Mrs. Souza," Hayley explained.

"Give me that, Joy!?" Sophia Souza half shouted, sounding very crossed, "Joycelyn I know you are there and if you don't want to speak then that's fine because I have something to say," there was a short pause where Minerva only had the chance to open her mouth for a retaliation when Sophia decided to speak again, "It's not enough to take my daughter, Olivia, away, now you wanna take my husband?"

"Wh-what?" Minerva croaked, the words just escaping in her mind.

She was trying to comprehend what on earth Sophia was talking about...it sounded...it sounded like Sophia was blaming her...

"Well I'm not gonna let you take him too! I want you home by tonight! Do you understand me? Because if you're not back, then I swear to you I will find you and I will bring you back by the hair. Do I make myself clear?"

Minerva was just flatly horrified at her mother's words. She was so cold, so harsh like none other. As angry as Sophia had been, she had never acted like that before. Minerva couldn't find the words to reply with...but before she could raise the phone to her lips again, someone else took it from her hands.

"Sophia Souza, we haven't met before but I'm your daughter's boyfriend, oh let's call me John, why not," the Doctor shot Minerva a wink, the woman confused on what he was trying to do, "I would say it's a pleasure to finally speak to you but if I did that it would just make me a liar. I'll cut straight to the point, though, because I really just wanna hang up on you," his face darkened, his eyes narrowing as if Sophia was actually in front of them, "You don't ever threaten my girlfriend. You don't ever get to lay a finger on her and most certainly you don't get to blame her for someone else's misfortune. You may have gotten away with it during her childhood but she is not alone anymore. She has me, and I warn you Sophia, I don't care if you're her mother or not, you hurt her, you make her shed a tear because of you and I will make you regret it. Do you understand me?"

Minerva stared with half her mouth open, not sure what to think. The Doctor had just threatened her mother...he had just set her mother in place...

"I look forward to meeting you one day, John..." Sophia's sour tone responded before the line was cut off.

"Change of plans, we're no longer calling your house," the Doctor set the phone beside them, cursing himself for having the stupid idea to make the call, "We'll get your father's cellphone number."

He met Minerva's face with a rather cold expression for the first couple of seconds. He really was angry, his blood was physically boiling with rage at Sophia's out lash at the innocent woman on his lap. His mind was on red alert because he had to go make the person who hurt his clever girl pay for what they did. But...this was Minerva's mother, like it or not...

...and that's why he softened after a minute or so.

"Minerva, I'm...I'm sorry," he sighed, looking down, expecting a blow from her after what he did, "But I can't stand it. I can't stand your mother. She does not get to yell at you like that, blame you. I can't just let her keep treating you like that just because she's your mother. She doesn't have the right to do-"

Minerva had pulled him, by the lapels, to her lips for a rather urgent passionate kiss. He was expecting some kind of yells or reprimands for what he did...but Minerva wasn't even an ounce angry with him.

Minerva's hands rested on the Doctor's face, parting and showing her teary eyes, "Thank you," she whispered, sniffling, "My mom thinks this is my fault too..." she bitterly laughed.

"With all due respect, your mother is crazy. It's not your fault," the Doctor informed quietly, watching some tears begin to stroll down from her eyes, "It's not your fault," he placed his hands on her cheeks and literally kissed her tears away on either side of her face, making her smile, "Repeat after me: It is not my fault."

"...it's not my fault," she mumbled, closing her eyes and smiling as he Eskimo kissed her.

"There we go, smiling like it should be," he placed a kiss on her nose.

As he moved to sit back, Minerva reached to cup his face again, "I like when you do that," she mumbled, her gaze on his lips, "But I like it better, and feel better, when we actually kiss," the Doctor didn't get to make a comment on that when she had already begun kissing him.

Course he didn't need to speak to get his point across. He was in like with her, after all, and he liked to kiss her too. His arms moved around her, one around her waist and the other rested on her back, all focused on pulling her closer to him. She knew just how to get him melting in her arms and so when her hands flung to his hair, tugging on it until he growled against her lips, she was more than satisfied with herself. She loved that only she could make him do that, only she could get him to kiss like that, just her...

"There could be people around," her Martian murmured, beginning to move onto her neck, his newly discovered favorite place to kiss.

"Nah..." Though Minerva did take a quick glance with her eyes just to be sure, and indeed no one was around, "...just us," her eyes fluttered closed at the sensation of trails of kisses the Doctor was leaving on her neck, following all around to the other side.

It was her new favorite place to be kissed too...

Not even the sound of a car driving by made them desist. They simply continued, getting more and more lost in the moment. It was quite easy to do so, Donna had already caught then several times snogging and she'd only been there for a couple of weeks so far.

However, there was one thing that did make them stop right now...

"Oi, is that my little niece!?" a man's voice called from the front gate.

The pair flinched at the new voice, Minerva glancing over her shoulder as her mind raced to match the voice with its rightful owner.

"Last time I remember she hated to even be kissed on the cheek!" the voice continued, trying to sound like a responsible adult.

"Uncle Aaron?" Minerva whispered, looking at the Doctor with wide eyes, a smile quickly forming, "Uncle Aaron!" she hopped off the Doctor's lap and ran to meet the man standing midway the front lawn.

Aaron Lozano laughed as he picked up his niece in a big hug, spinning her around, "Minnie mouse!"

"You're here! Oh my god, you're here!" Minerva laughed hysterically, encasing her uncle in a tight hug, not letting go despite being set on her feet, "Uncle Aaron, it's you!"

"Yeah, last time I checked I was still Aaron Lozano!"

"I missed you so much!" Minerva pulled back, getting a good look at her uncle, much like he was to her.

He still looked the same! He had his wavy blonde hair in the same fluffy manner, his chocolate brown eyes big as ever. He was tall, like my mother, and was a bit muscular. He was just the same, same as always, her uncle who understood her better than anyone in her family.

"Uh, well, you've gotten old," he remarked as he took Minerva in.

"Oi! I'm eighteen!" Minerva frowned, Aaron laughed.

"Right, eighteen and a full snogger now," he smirked.

"Oh, someone's been hanging out with Brits," Minerva snapped playfully, hoping to rid herself of her blush fairly fast. She glanced back, the Doctor standing at the porch and leaning against a the wall, "Come on, Martian!" she held out her hand, the man sheepishly coming to take it.

Her uncle had just witnessed them snogging, definitely not the way to make a good impression.

"Doctor," Aaron whispered, sounding fascinated already, "Blimey, you look the exact same."

"Have we met?" the Doctor frowned.

"1969, you spoke baby," Aaron laughed at the memory.

"You remember that?" Minerva blinked, surprised that a two year old manage to remember a small moment like that.

"Snippets by mom and dad made sure to describe it to me in great detail," Aaron nodded and crossed his arms, a pointed look at Minerva, "And dad was very specific on the particular brunette who would not stop crying...because of him, right?"

Minerva sighed and nodded, "I couldn't help it," she leaned on the Doctor's arm, "The Doctor surprised me and I...I lost it."

"Well it was more of an accident that I found him," the Doctor admitted, remembering a feisty two year old trying to steal his banana.

"Right, sorry about that, stealing food was sort of my thing back then," Aaron chuckled as he also remembered that scenario.

"So then all this time you remembered..." Minerva said, working it out mentally as she spoke, "...you knew I'd end up traveling with this man, just like grandma did..."

"And dad," added Aaron, nodding, "It took us some time to figure it out but we did, eventually. Time travel, how else? We all knew you'd end up doing amazing things out in the stars."

"You kept that a secret from me?" Minerva pouted. After her bad life she had as a kid, it would've been really nice to know something as wonderful as the Doctor would show up to keep her moving.

"You know you're not very easy to find," Aaron said to the Doctor, leaving the pair confused for a second.

"You were looking for me?" the Doctor pointed to himself, "I've been looking for you."

"Ever since I was a kid I always wanted to go out and see new places, but when my sister brought Minerva to us for the first time I started remembering a bit of 1969. I asked my parents who told me the entire story. Years ago they'd met a young woman on her birthday, claiming to be...Minerva Souza. They had no doubt the toddler was that woman," Aaron smiled as he gazed at his niece, seeing she was exactly the same as his parents had described her to be, "So then I started doing some research and stumbled across some sites with a recurring alien..." his smile turned into a smirk when he looked at the Doctor, "...whom, I was very shocked to find out, could changes faces. When I found a picture of your current face I showed it to my parents and they recognized you. You were the man that brought their future granddaughter to 1969."

"And you never said," Minerva huffed, still upset.

"I couldn't Minnie-mouse. I'm no time traveler but I was sure that if we were to say something it could change it and neither my parents nor me were having it. So, instead...I set out to find the man in the suit. Bit trickier than I thought it'd be but it did help me live my dream of traveling and find my career, photography!"

"You've been searching for me?" the Doctor still couldn't wrap his head around the idea, "Why?"

"To bring you here of course," Aaron nodded, "My niece had to meet you and I wanted to make sure she did. I was going to find you and bring you to her so you could take her away from this place."

"You did that for me?" Minerva whispered, her eyes becoming watery.

"Of course, I love you Minnie-mouse," Aaron ruffled her hair, "We all do."

"Except my mom and dad," she muttered, looking down.

"You know, I don't think I can talk the same way about Nicolas like I do with Sophia. More than anything, I think his heart has been tainted by Sophia. You can break through to him," he smiled encouragingly at her, but the brunette had fallen sad and silent again.

"C'mon clever girl, I know you can," the Doctor lifted her gaze with a finger under her chin. Aaron wasn't wrong about his brother-in-law...

"You think so?" she whispered, severely doubting she could actually have a real father at this point in her life.

"Shine your big, bright green eyes and sweet smile, you absolutely cannot be denied anything like that."

"Speaking from experience?" Aaron teased, the Doctor heavily sighing while nodding.

"Your niece is just too incredible to deny," the Doctor looked at his clever girl with a smile, "She's amazing..."

"Not as much as you are," Minerva mumbled, getting on her toes to kiss him.

Aaron smiled softly at the pair. A responsible uncle would have pulled the two apart and kept apart and always had them on supervision. But this was what he was waiting for, this is what he went in search of for all his life years. He may have been a toddler when he first met the Doctor, but even from that point he could remember the tall man with the banana had liked the girl with the pink dress. And as he grew up and saw Minerva live out her life in tears and pain with his sister, he knew that only that man, with the suit, could make her happy.

He was very right.

"Aaron? Thanks for the help, mate," another male voice called, with an English accent, "I mean, it's not like you pack heavy or anything, no..."

The couple pulled away to see a younger man, possibly in his twenties, hauling three suitcases in his two hands. He was average height with black curly hair and brown eyes.

"Uncle Aaron, really?" Minerva eyed the suitcases, shaking her head.

"The man carries two suitcases for his Brazilian shirts," the young man mocked, "Then another one for his British pants. I mean, aren't pants just pants despite where they're from?"

Minerva chuckled, "I think they are."

The young man smiled at her, holding his hand out for her, "You must be the famous Minerva Souza, Aaron won't quit talking about you."

"Yikes, that must be annoying," Minerva reached out and shook his hand, "Sorry about that."

"I'll get him back for it later," he shook her hand back.

"Nice to meet you," she smiled and glanced up at the Doctor, seeing his less-than-pleased expression. He was jealous, just like that. She sighed and resolved to end it before anything even happened, "Cody, this is my amazing boyfriend," she gestured to her Martian.

"So you're the famous Doctor," Cody shook his hand, "Gotta say it's an honor to meet you."

The Doctor nodded, feeling slightly less paranoid with the man's words. Still...he was a man and Minerva was awfully beautiful. He couldn't shake the paranoia off completely...

Cody then glanced at Aaron, "So are you gonna go get the rest of those suitcases?"

"That's what I got an assistant for, buddy," Aaron patted his shoulder, "Cody and I are doing a photo sessions for a couple months so we'll be staying in the city. Though for today, I just want to stay with my mom."

"Momma's boy," Minerva teased.

"Shut up, I am your uncle and you will respect me," he wagged a finger.

Minerva rolled her eyes and took the Doctor's hand, "We're gonna go inside and inform them of your arrival."

"No, don't tell her, I want her to be surprised. Last time she heard I was in Brazil."

"Alright, but don't take too long with your suitcases," she warned, looking at Cody, :And if anything is too heavy, then you just chuck at him and come to meet my grandmother."

"What kind of advice is that?" Aaron frowned.

"Good," Cody laughed.

The pair turned around and headed back for the house, the Doctor gripping Minerva's hand unconsciously as his mind drifted to all the men that he had gotten jealous of since he started to fall for Minerva.

"Doctor, really, there's no reason to be jealous," Minerva said.

"Jealous? Who says I'm jealous!?"

"Please don't try to hide it, you're horrible at it," she pointed.

"I can't help it," he huffed, "I get paranoid, alright?"

"Doctor," she cleared her throat as she stepped closer, forcing him to stop at before he went up the stairs while she stood on the porch, for once being the same height, "Who was I just snogging five minutes ago? Hmm? All over my neck?" He looked to the side, however his blush was more than noticeable, "Now, I don't want anyone that isn't my Martian doing that," she draped her arms around his neck, "I really can't imagine it being someone else who's got his lips on mine. I just can't."

"Well let me tell you something, any man would give anything to be able to kiss you," he wrapped his arms around her waist, gently pulling her closer.

"I highly doubt that," she mumbled.

"I mean it, you don't see the looks because you're a woman. There's some men out there that would gobble you up with one look. And I hate them, I hate all men...because they want what I want."

Minerva chuckled, seeing him pout, "You're so dramatic, Martian!" she pecked his lips, "C'mon, we've got to get my grandmother out here so she can see uncle Aaron," she pecked his lips once more but found herself locked into a much bigger kiss, one that she simply could not refuse.

~0~

Minerva absolutely loved seeing her grandmother's expression when she saw Aaron standing at the doorstep. The elderly lady had hugged him for a good five minutes, babbling on about how he was supposed to be in Brazil and whatnot. Aaron just laughed and explained to her his surprise and the job he and Cody were taking for the moment. Isadora had almost been indignant when he asked if he and Cody could stay until they found an apartment to room in. She was his son! By her choice, she would keep him forever in her house!

So the group had taken in the new visitors where Aaron was immediately asked, by a beaming Minerva, to tell them about his recent trips around the world. Minerva explained to the Doctor and Donna that whenever Aaron returned home while she was a kid, he would always tell her about his travels. She just loved to hear about the different cities that her planet had to offer. Now she supposed it was part of Aaron's ploy to get her "ready" for when he found the Doctor for her. She would be more than pleased to actually travel, and in time!

Minerva was still not over the fact that the whole point of her uncle's travels was because of her. He traveled to find the Doctor for her. Of course, like he said, he wanted to travel anyways, even as a kid. But, as he remembered Minerva from 1969, and saw the life she lived with her mother, he had an even bigger reason to start his travels.

Minerva would always remember what he did for her.

Now, the group sat on the living room, Aaron telling them a story of his visit to Rio de Janeiro. Isadora sat beside him on the large couch, Cody to Aaron's left. The Doctor sat on a couch chair near Cody while Donna sat on another couch chair near Isadora. Minerva was returning from her trip to the kitchen, holding a tray of snicker doodles in her hands.

"Mmm, are those cookies I smell?" Aaron paused his story telling to take a long whiff of smell.

"Grandma made them," Minerva explained, setting them on the table.

"I had to make my Minerva feel better somehow," Isadora said, watching Minerva grow quiet as she reached for a cookie.

"Why? What's wrong?" Aaron frowned, also sensing the quick change of attitude from his niece.

Minerva shook her head and walked to the Doctor, taking a seat on his lap for comfort, "My dad is sick," she whispered.

"Nicolas? But the man was always in perfect condition!" Aaron looked to his mother for more explanation.

"They're running tests on him, but for now they just think it's Atherosclerosis," Isadora explained, staring at her granddaughter with sadness.

She didn't even mind that Minerva was currently on a man's lap. She knew how the Doctor made her feel. Whenever Minerva cried, he was there in a heartbeat to make her feel better, and it always worked. She didn't want to admit it, but...she trusted the Doctor with her granddaughter more than she ever would with Sophia, her own daughter, and mother of Minerva. Isadora was glad that, even when she passed away, she would go in peace because there would be someone apart from her son to take care of Minerva.

"But we're all hoping for the best," the Doctor ran a few fingers down and up Minerva's arm, feeling her tense as she silently thought, probably already blaming herself for her father's oncoming illness.

The pair hadn't mentioned what Sophia had said to Minerva when they had called. The Doctor wanted to tell Isadora just how big of a monster her daughter was...but Minerva didn't want to. She didn't want to upset her grandmother and much less cause her to get sick too. So, the Doctor bit his tongue and kept his mouth shut about it, as much as it pained him. He absolutely despised Sophia, he wanted everyone to see who she really was. Absolutely no one could hurt Minerva, not even her mother would be an exception. Minerva was first on everything.

"So, um...Brazil?" Donna turned on her seat to Aaron, hoping to help with Minerva's growing silence, "Rio de Janeiro?"

"Yes, yes, it's lovely right now!" Aaron quickly caught on and continued with his story, "The Carnival is just amazing! Have you ever gone there?" he looked at the pair.

Minerva bit into her cookie, shaking her head without saying a word. The Doctor sighed and answered for her, "No, but I want to bring Minerva there. I think she would love it, right?" he smiled at her, hoping to get just a small one out at least.

"I guess..." she mumbled, shrugging her shoulders.

"I think it would be a good idea," Cody cut in, disliking the way the woman had just shut down all of a sudden. From what Aaron would tell him, the woman was always talking, even as a child, "It's very lively and exciting."

"And the beach? How's the beach?" Donna asked, actually into the idea of visiting Rio de Janeiro, "I always heard they were amazing!"

"Not as best as Acapulco," chipped in Isadora, "Now there's a beach! Absolutely incredible!" she reached for a snicker doodle and munched on one.

"I've got pictures..." Aaron watched Minerva, "...if you want to see some, Minnie-Mouse," he smiled, hoping his nickname he had appropriated for her a toddler would get her to smile.

Minerva shook her head, putting her half-eaten cookie on the table and standing to her feet, "No thank you. I think I need some time to myself. I'll be in my room."

She turned away and walked off, the Doctor almost swearing he had heard her sniffling. She was clearly still upset of her mother's words.

The Doctor stood up and watched after her, "I think I'm going to go talk to her."

"She seems worse than earlier," Donna remarked, "I thought calling her father would make it better."

"Minerva called home?" Isadora blinked, "How'd you manage that?"

"Through hard work," the Doctor sighed, turning to the group.

"What did Nicolas say?"

The Doctor looked around, everyone picking up that something wrong had happened.

"Who answered?" Aaron raised an eyebrow, half guessing the answer.

"Her mother did, didn't she?" Donna asked.

The Doctor didn't want to tell them what Minerva specifically asked him not to, but in this case Donna and Aaron had already figured it out.

"What did that monster say!?" Aaron demanded.

"Aaron!" Isadora scolded.

"What? I'm not going to lie and say my sister is an angel because we all know she's not! She's horrible and I don't understand why! You were such a good mom to us, and even if I don't see myself with my own children I know for a damn fact that I would never treat my children the way Sophia treated Minerva."

Isadora sighed and looked to the side. As much as she couldn't defend Sophia, she was still her daughter and it still hurt to know how bad of a person she turned out to be.

"Doctor," Aaron refocused on the man, "What did my sister say?"

"Let's just say...they disagreed," the Doctor offered, really not wanting to repeat Sophia's words, "Words were said and it didn't help, alright?"

"The relationship between Minerva's parents and hers isn't okay?" Cody asked, though he knew it was a stupid question to ask based off on what Aaron had told him.

"That's a delicate way of putting it," the Doctor muttered, "Look, I gotta go talk to her," he turned and headed for Minerva's room.

"Wait," Cody stopped him, the Doctor turning to see the man on his feet, "Maybe...maybe I can talk to her."

"Excuse me?" the Doctor raised an eyebrow. He already had a certain dislike for Cody just because he was a man and could potentially take Minerva away and now he was asking for him to let he, a stranger, talk to Minerva?

"I don't share a good relationship with my own parents," Cody explained, understanding the Doctor and his surprise. He was a stranger and Minerva had a boyfriend, it could be taken in a different way, "I left home as soon as I turned eighteen.I barely speak to them now and I'm twenty-five. I think I understand Minerva on some level. Can you let me try?"

Well, of course the Doctor's mind screamed 'NO'.

"Yes," the Doctor stepped aside. Cody nodded his thanks and went after Minerva.

"That was awfully big of you," Donna remarked.

Just by the couple weeks she had spent with the pair in the TARDIS she knew the Doctor was very prone of getting jealous of practically any man that wasn't related to Minerva.

"If it helps Minerva, then I'll do anything," was the Doctor's simple reply as he plopped down on his chair.

~0~

Minerva was sitting on the foot of her bed, sniffling to herself as quietly as possible. Now, apart from the news of her father possibly being sick, she had to deal with the new blame being appropriated on her. How could her mother be so cruel?

That was a question she would always ask herself until she died. As far as she could remember, her mother had never showed an ounce of love towards her...and she never knew why. It always led her to ask herself why did her mother choose to birth her if she was only going to suffer. If they had Olivia, the preferred, actually loved, daughter, why bring in a left over like herself?

"Knock, knock," she heard Cody's voice followed by two promptly knocks on the door.

"Cody?" she glanced back, confused. She expected the Doctor to be at the door, and she admitted she wanted him to follow after her so he could comfort her the way he always did.

"I know, I know," Cody walked in, smiling awkwardly, "Probably not the guy you expected, right?"

"Truthfully, yeah," Minerva nodded, glancing behind him in case the Doctor entered.

"I asked the Doctor if I could talk to you first," Cody explained, Minerva's head snapping to him, "I told him I understood what you're going through."

"You...you do?"

"You think your mum and dad don't really love you?" he tried, Minerva nodding silently, "You feel like you're never worthy of their love or them?" again, she nodded, "And you feel like no matter what you, you will never be the daughter they want you to be...or in my case, a son," he sat down beside her, Minerva staring at him with so much shock that it made him chuckle, "That's my life, Minerva."

"I'm...I'm sorry," she said, her head turning down as she fiddled with her fingers on her lap.

"Yeah, I left home when I turned eighteen, right on my birthday."

"Hm, I left when I was fourteen," she confessed, now Cody was utterly shocked. She smiled a little, still keeping her gaze down, "Emancipation."

"Wow, you win," he mumbled, "...ever since I was a kid, I just remember the arguments and lectures my parents would give me."

"Same here," Minerva whispered, wiping some tears off her face.

"They wanted me to be an architect, like my dad, all my life...so when I finally decided what I wanted to be, a photographer...they were less than happy."

Minerva looked up, softly speaking, "Same here. They wanted me to be a lawyer."

"And what did you want to be?"

"No idea," she shrugged, Cody taking a look around her room and seeing the many pictures plastered on the walls.

"Perhaps an artist?" he stood up and went over to a pin board, "Mind you, these are really good."

"Thanks. My mother thought it was a waste of time," Minerva sighed, "She even ripped some up when I was a kid."

"Yeah, my dad broke my camera. It was the first camera I bought with my own money," he shook his head, "Never forgave him for that."

"Do you still talk to them?"

"No, it's been seven years and I don't ever plan on speaking to them again," he turned around, "How long has it been for you?"

"Four years..."

"You're on your way," he sighed, leaning back on the desk.

"What do you do when...when the words of your parents strike you so hard?" she asked, her eyes welling up quick. If he went through the same thing she was going through, then he had to have some way to make the pain just go away.

"Nothing...there's nothing I did that...ever made it okay..." Cody admitted, "...your parents are supposed to love you if you're good. I know I had my fair share of tantrums, but...I don't think it was enough to garner their hatred. I'm their only son, they're supposed to completely spoil me!" he wanted to get her to smile but he utterly failed. He imagined her boyfriend could probably do a much better job at this.

"My mom blames me for my sister's death," Minerva announced, Cody nodding as he already knew that from Aaron but decided not to interrupt and let her speak, "And now...now she's blaming me for my dad's sickness," she starting crying, "And it's not fair!"

"It's okay, it's okay!" he quickly rushed to her side, hugging her as she cried.

"Did they blame you for something like that?"

"Not really...like I said, you utterly win," he sighed.

"What do you do? What do you do to stop all these feelings?" she nearly pleaded for an answer, looking up with a face stained of tears, "Because I'm tired of living like this. The Doctor, he tries to help but...it's not the same. He can't understand me, and...my friend, Donna, the ginger, she can understand but she doesn't have a solution for it either."

"I do what I like to do best. I take photographs. I suppose you can do your pictures. It'll help you remember that they can't tell you who you need to be, an architect, a lawyer...you're Minerva, an artist. Or, a traveler. Whichever you want to be. You just be Minerva."

Minerva stopped her crying, only sniffling as she took long breaths, "Be Minerva?"

"Be Minerva."

"That's a little hard seeing as I come from my dad and mom..."

"So do I," he reminded, "But, just try little by little to make your own life. Don't worry what your mother or father think of you because I bet there's one person you care for more, even above your parents..." he gave her a knowing smile.

She smiled back, wiping her tears off, "My boyfriend."

Cody noticed the immediate shift of emotions from Minerva just by the mention of the man, "Because you know, the way it works, you're supposed to find someone to care for above your parents, above anyone else. That one person you choose to trust with your whole life, the person you decide to marry, to live with, have children with. Because one day, your parents aren't going to be here anymore and it'll just be you. When that happens, because like it or not, it will, it's not going to be so bad because there'll be the man you chose to spend your life with at your side."

Minerva nodded, smiling sadly to herself. Unfortunately for her, while the Doctor could be at her side when she grew older, it wouldn't be the way she wanted it to be. She couldn't have his children, she couldn't exactly marry him either in a proper, human way (the one where they both grew older as was expected). And, she doubted they could even have a romantic relationship in the future. When Kaeya returned, and if the Doctor chose to still be with her, a human, Minerva wouldn't want to be in one with him when she aged. He would be young, well look young, and she would be older. She didn't want to have him tied down to her when she was sixty; an old, wrinkled woman. She couldn't...and she wouldn't.

So, when her parents died, yes the Doctor would be with her...but as a friend. Of course, it'd be the friend she wished she could have as a husband...but it would never happen. That was one part of their relationship that was never really talked about. It was like they were both trying to avoid the inevitable pain they would suffer. Minerva knew she wouldn't want to let go of the Doctor when the time came, when she aged noticeably. She knew that the Doctor, being who he was, would tell her to go and find someone that she "actually deserved". That she should marry a man who could give her the life he couldn't. She couldn't fathom the idea of actually walking down the aisle in a white dress if the Doctor wasn't the one waiting for her at the end of the aisle. She had already made up that decision a long time ago.

If she couldn't have the Doctor, she wouldn't have anyone. She would rather die single, unmarried.

And she was resigned to it. Because, what she lived now was a fantasy, yes, but it was the most wonderful fantasy she could ever live. She liked to think of it as one of those star-crossed relationships that were on television shows. But hers didn't compare to the silly ones in the shows. Hers was even better. She loved this fantasy and she would hang onto it until the very last moment.

So, when her parents died, she would be alone and unmarried. But she would be happy that she got to live the life she wanted to and not the one her parents would've chosen for her.

"I wouldn't worry too much of what your mother says," Cody continued, oblivious to her thoughts, "I'd just draw and draw."

"Thanks Cody," Minerva sighed, "You're not that bad at this talking thing. You've done it before?"

"No, my first try," he chuckled.

"You should be some kind of therapist," if he only knew how much he had just made her think right now.

"Mm, I prefer photography. But you know, just for you, I'll be a therapist," he said, she raising an eyebrow in confusion, "I know we barely know each other, but it looks like I'll be in the city for some time. Anytime you want to talk, I'm here."

"Thank you," she gave a small smile, "Maybe I can get Donna to join us for a little support group."

"That would be nice," he shrugged casually, both of them chuckling afterwards.

"Thank you so much, Cody," she gave him a hug and closed her eyes, hoping they'd dry up before she returned to her Martian.

"You're welcome," Cody rubbed her back, feeling quite content with himself he'd managed to make her happy once more.

The two were so engulfed with their hug to notice the Doctor standing by the doorway, watching them in a sad manner. He could feel his hearts nearly stopping, nearly breaking at the sight. But he wasn't mad...his clever girl had stopped crying, and so quick. He'd only come to see what progress Cody had been making. Apparently, it had been good.

He turned and walked away, the ache of heartbreak taking over his body. He didn't want to admit it but...if there was any man that could possibly make Minerva happy...he'd probably choose Cody. Just with five minutes, Minerva was smiling again and so...close to another man. Cody was young, by the looks of it fun, he traveled just like Minerva loved to do...

He would be perfect.

There were times where the Doctor thought that he and Minerva were just living some star-crossed fantasy story, just like Donna had once mentioned. He and Minerva were two very different people, of different species! But he really fell for her, he couldn't imagine her not with him, in the TARDIS, next stop everywhere. He would love to have that for centuries more.

He knew he should back away, let Cody win Minerva's heart, give her what he himself couldn't. Minerva deserved someone who stay with her forever in a human way, someone who could give her a family. He just knew she would make a tremendous mother. And he could see it, he could picture her with a couple of little toddlers. The little girls having her long, beautiful brown hair and being the little princesses Minerva had been as a child. The boys would be just as adventurous as she was, sassy as she was, always having remarks for everything.

And the thing that broke the Doctor's hearts was that he saw them as their children. The children he wished they could have in some future. He couldn't see her with anyone else...

So what was he supposed to do?