#in which beth continues to not be honest with herself about her feelings

[laelior]

Periapsis Chapter 6: No Return

Mass Effect Kaidan Alenko/Beth Shepard Rating: E (shameless smut) Chapter 6/6 Periapsis: The point at which two objects in a binary system orbit nearest to each other. a.k.a., the Shenko shore leave fic that's been plaguing me non-stop lately. Chapter link | Start from the beginning

Shepard woke the next morning to sunlight streaming in through the cabin and the warmth of Kaidan’s arms still around her.

It was…surprisingly pleasant to wake up next to someone like this. Next to him. He was warm and tender and solid all at once. She couldn’t even remember the last time she’d woken up next to someone. After their last encounter, before Ilos, she’d stayed up, going over the Normandy’s battle readiness reports while Kaidan slept undisturbed in her bed. And before that…well, it had been a long, long time.

In a few hours, they would have to pack up and leave. They would stop being Kaidan and Beth. They would resume their roles as Staff Lieutenant Alenko and Lieutenant Commander Shepard and go their separate ways until their orbits crossed again at the Citadel in a week. 

It had been nice, to just be Beth with him, even for just a day or two.

Read More

[topazy]

Tomorrow's promise

Pairing: Shane Walsh × reader, Rick Grimes × sister reader

Warnings: Mentions of SA, blood, character death

Chapter: 2.10

Lori gave you a knowing look while Andrea continued to whine about issues that weren’t real issues. While Maggie and Beth argued in another room, Andrea stated she thought you should try to encourage Beth to accompany you while taking Jace for a walk around the farm, insisting the fresh air would do the three of you some good.

You did want to snap back at her since Andrea was unhelpful most of the time, but you bit your tongue for the most part and started washing dishes in the kitchen. It’s not until Andrea mentions your brother and Shane being sexist since they always dealt with the more dangerous tasks, leaving the women behind to do all the housework.

“It's because they were cops! They risked their lives every day, and they know what they are doing.”

Andrea lets out an over-the-top huff, placing her hands on her hips. “Well, if they spent more time teaching us how to defend ourselves properly, then maybe we could share the load. I should be able to handle my own goddamn gun.”

“Oh yeah, because you’re so good at handling them.”

Lori shakes her head. She was trying her best to defuse the tension, but neither you nor the blonde were listening at this point.

“Excuse me?”

“Last time you fired a damn gun, you almost killed Daryl!”

—

You step out onto the porch with a fresh cup of coffee in your hand. It wasn’t the real stuff and properly tasted stale, but it was better than nothing. You sit down beside Maggie on the wooden steps and hand it to her. “I thought you could use this.”

“Thanks.”

“How is she?”

Maggie pauses before answering, “She’s alive.”

You give her a sympathetic smile. Things had gone from bad to chaotic in the last twenty-four hours. Beth had locked herself in a bathroom, broke the mirror, and then used the sharp material to cut herself; luckily, her father was able to stitch her wrist in time. Rick and Shane had taken the kid Randell somewhere far to leave him, but apparently the area was surrounded by walkers, so they brought him back to the farm, where he was now essentially a hostage.

“Since we got here, we’ve brought nothing but trouble; I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, you do,” she says, letting out a slight chuckle. “But if I’m being honest, I’m glad you folks came here. I just wish it was under better circumstances.”

You watch as Daryl comes out of the barn covered in blood, which you assumed came from Randell. You feel physically sick thinking of what could have transpired behind those wooden walls. You tell Maggie, “I’ll be back shortly.”

You walk quickly to grab a bucket of water that was half full and a cleanish cloth that was hanging up to dry, and you call out after your friend, “Daryl, wait up.”

He keeps walking towards one of the wells. “I gotta go wipe—”

“The blood off? Yeah, I got you covered.”

He lets out a snort as he begins to wash his hands. “You just assume I’d come out covered in blood?”

“I noticed the cut on your arm earlier, and I don’t want it to get infected.”

Daryl glances down at his arms before cleaning them as well. Usually he was covered in more dirt and dried blood than the rest of you; what worried you was the uncovered cut on Daryl’s arm surrounded by dirt. He says, “You're such a mom.”

—

Daryl asks how your injury from the crash is healing as you make your way towards your group, which is sitting by the tents outside. The first thing you notice is the look on Shane’s face; he’s looking pissed off as his eyes dart between you and Daryl.

“Boy, there’s got a gang, thirty men,” Daryl says. “They have heavy artillery, and they ain’t looking to make friends. They roll through here; our boys are dead. And our women... they’re going to wish they were.”

Hearing those words come from Daryl, you instantly become scared. You avoid making eye contact with Shane as you walk towards him; he hands you Jace before resting his hand against your hip. He whispers, “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Carol notices Daryl’s bleeding knuckles. “What did you do?”

“Had a little chat.”

When your brother starts to talk about ‘eliminating the threat’ you shake your head, not wanting to hear anymore, you decide to leave the conversation. “I’m going to take Jace inside.”

You didn’t doubt Randall was a bad person, and you believed you would rather wish you were dead if his gang tuned up, but you weren’t going to partake in anything to do with him.

—

“Can I ask you something?”

As soon as you hear Dale’s voice, you roll your eyes. You walked to the other side of the farm so you could be on your own with Jace. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do, Dale, but I’m not going to vote.”

“So you’re just going to stand by and let your brother kill the boy?”

You lean against a tree, continuing to stoke Jace’s thin, dark hair with your fingers. “My personal opinion on this doesn’t matter, but what does is keep our people safe.”

Dale looks disappointed. “So you agree with killing him; you just don’t want to admit it.”

Learning that Randall stood by and watched as men in his group raped two teenage girls in front of their father stirred something inside—emotions that you couldn’t shift. “All due respect, it’s different from us, Dale. I understand why it’s wrong, all of us against one kid, but…” You stop talking when your mouth suddenly becomes dry, and it takes you a moment to find your voice again. “I’ve met Randall’s before, and trust me, you want to be on the opposite side of them.”

Dale gives your arm a friendly squeeze and says, “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

He licks at his lips and says, “I spoke to Shane earlier to try and convince him to change his mind.”

“I imagine that went well,” you snort.

“He was dead set on never letting a man like that near you again, and I had a theory you met men like that in the past; that’s why I’m sorry. Nobody deserves—”

“Dale,” tears fall from your eyes. “Just please, don’t go there.”

“I’m sorry if I’ve upset you. Just—they listen to you, Rick, Shane; hell, even Daryl seems to value your opinion.”

You remain standing in the same spot as the older man walks away. “Dale?” He turns back around to face you. “How long did it take you to stop trusting Shane?”

“I never did.”

—

You stand by the front doorway of Greene's farmhouse; everyone has gathered to talk about Randall’s fate. You had already made it clear you weren’t getting involved, a decision that received mixed reactions; some thought it was unfair, while those closest to you understood why you weren’t getting involved.

You hold your hand out for your nephew and say, “Carl, I need you to come help me in the RV.”

He pouts, “What with?”

“I need you to help watch Jace while I mend a bunch of torn-up clothes.”

“Now?”

“Go.”

Carl sulks as he walks by you to go outside. You didn’t really need his help in the RV, but you, Rick, and Lori wanted him out of the discussion.

“You’re really not going to share your thoughts on this?” Dale asks.

You glance around to make sure nobody else is listening in before answering. “Honestly, I don’t know what I think. I want to believe I’m a good person who votes against it, but then I remember what he’s done, and then I’m unsure. But I do admire you, Dale; it’s not easy. Always remember who you are.”

He gives you a slight nod, and then you leave the house.

—

You’re unsure of how much time has passed by when you hear a loud yell of pain. “Carl, stay here with Jace and lock the door behind me.”

You run out of the RV and in the direction of the field. Your brother calls out for T-dog to get a shotgun as he follows closely behind you.

Spotting a walker trying to bite Dale, you pull your blade out of your belt and stab it in the head before pushing it off him, but you’re too late. Dale’s stomach had already been ripped open, and he was bleeding out. “No! Rick, Rick! Help, over here!”

Daryl is the next person to arrive. He kneels down and says, “Hey, buddy, you’re going to be okay.”

Rick and Andrea both scream for Hershel to come outside as soon as they see Dale, but you knew there was nothing he could do. You hold Dale’s hand and kiss his forehead. “It’s okay; it’s going to be okay.”

Dale was so confused by the loss of blood that it was hard to know if he knew what you were saying to him. But you could tell he was in pain and choking on his own blood from the way he gurgled.

“Shane... Rick,” with glossy eyes, you look up at them, your voice breaking. “He’s suffering; please do something.”

Rick points his gun at Dale’s head, but he’s unable to pull the trigger, so Daryl takes the gun from him. You move further back as Daryl kneels down, but you still hold onto Dale’s hand, not wanting him to feel alone.

“Sorry, brother.” Daryl pulls the trigger, ending Dale’s suffering.

[wildflowerdoeeyed]

𝑀𝑜𝓁𝓁𝓎 𝒪’𝓈𝒽𝑒𝒶

(the character overlook)

♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧⋆⭒˚｡⋆

these are all my opinions, totally open to the conversation about molly’s character also totally fine with people fact checking me, anyways i’m starting to fw o’shones

in the words of @krayzie-jelli the autism is autisming (don’t cancel me i have referrals to get tested 😔😔)

♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧⋆⭒˚｡⋆

small credit;

the red dead fan wiki

@/reaperqween on tik tok (for the almost ten minute tik tok about mollys outfits which i ate up)

^ her tumblr is @river-of-wine send some love yall want 💕

colour analysis & general observations

🪞💋🍓🌹🍰

colour theory is heavily used based on honor, the best example of this is dutch, he consistently wearing red, mostly on his back until guarma when the red is on the front, when dutch’s true intentions become more apparent, anyways onto molly.

🩰𓈒⋆⑅˚₊୨୧

COLTER

(i went quite quick through colter so im actually unsure how she is with dutch, but from what i remember she doted on him a whole ton, constantly staying at his side and at one point saying “dutch is all the company i need”)

💋though a lot of people relate the red in different characters with low honor i think the fabric, the pattern itself points back to her privileged past

💋the necks scarf being green, i feel like it doesn’t imply much at this point but as the game continues it implies way more

💋the rest of the outfit being blue means a lot to me, there’s never anytime molly oversteps or is aggressive to anyone (obviously except from the obvious with karen, i’ll go back to this later)

💋i’d like to note that she’s still doing her makeup freezing and starving in the mountains

🩰𓈒⋆⑅˚₊୨୧

HORSESHOE OUTLOOK & CLEMENTS POINT

(i honestly will end up mixing these up so i grouped them together)

(tbh my honest opinion is horseshoe is one of the best chapters based on the relationships in camp (tho sadie’s still going through it, you can’t have everything))

💋her first outfit has a good amount of blue in this outfit, her necklace has its first appearance with the red (i always got the vibe that dutch had gifted it to her as it’s more shiny than a lot of the metal in her outfits and it’s like a part of him)

💋she wears a thick belt with this outfit and the brass (?) seems worn, even coming from a wealthy background she holds onto clothes that look old and worn

💋she always wears white boots, she’s doesn’t have to do any work, and she’s not expected to do anything

💋the majority of the mornings in game, molly is constantly checking herself in a mirror

💋i’m going to be honest i hate this shirt

💋but i’d like to think this shawl has always been with her and that she holds it close to her

💋her outfit is quite shapeless, and i think that’s how she liked to dress personally

💋i would love to talk about this outfit

💋does this eat? yes, but i don’t think this was a honest choice for her

💋this outfit mirror mary-beth’s a lot, who seems to be dutch’s new interest

sorry for the bad quality i used my own screenshot for this

💋this outfit particularly ^

💋there’s now a lot of cleavage in her outfit and she’s dressing more akin to other girls in the camp

💋and the gold in her outfits bright, and with mirroring marybeth, I also think this mirrors dutch’s style, with more red and gold incorporated

🩰𓈒⋆⑅˚₊୨୧

💋her relationship with dutch is starting to crumble, i heard a voice line where she says that she loves him and he thanks her (?!) you wouldn’t see me again personally

💋but to contrast that there’s some scenes were dutch kisses her hands and they’re all giddy and cuddly, and they eventually dance when sean’s rescued from blackwater

💋she’s also not well received by a lot of the gang, we get the first glimpse of that when you take mary-beth, tilly and karen to valentiene and karen says that molly’s “too high and mighty” to come with them

💋she attempts a to interact with numerous members

💋she also attempts to talk to tilly, tilly quickly brushes her off as she’s working and molly isn’t attempting to help her

💋i also saw an encounter with dutch and molly where, he approaches, and honestly he could be covered in shit and molly would still look up to him like he’s a messiah. dutch says “should i compare thee to…” he quickly cuts himself off asking her what he should compare her with, even asking arthur if you pass by (he actually says that dutch could compare her to an idiot if she actually believes dutch cares about her)

💋 throughout clements point, dutch talks down to molly as if she’s a child and then will quickly back himself up by calling her dear (to which if arthur intervenes when she goes off at him, dutch says she’s just leaving and she’s stomps away)

💋when she approaches abigail about the subject of dutch, abigail tells her “dutch don’t love you, not in the way you want to be loved”, molly gets defensive saying that she doesn’t get what she’s talking about, to which abigail says she does (implying drunk john?) and molly stomps away

💋i think this is the first time molly actually goes a bit crazy about dutch, she calls him a degenerate liar and stomps off when dutch wont argue back and (i think) goes to sleep, he at least turns away from her

💋i think people who discredit mollys character (men) don’t realise that her and dutch’s relationship show early signs about how manipulative dutch can be, he dumbs down what she says then calls her dear, eventually he only calls her miss o’shea, which she obviously goes off at him for

💋adding onto this i’d love to talk about her character item request of a pocket mirror and her asking arthur if bad lucks a thing, i feel like this is meant to reflect how young she actually is, like how kieran still referred to his parents as ma and pa, and that she genuinely seems nervous asking arthur for a mirror and the superstition of a broken mirror giving bad luck (which i guess you could say she had

💋and i feel like her vanity that the gang and from an outsiders perspective that she’s self absorbed but i think she’s more conscious about how she looks, she doesn’t have to lift a finger and not having much to do around camp because everyone distances themselves from her (i’ll obviously elaborate more when i get to writing about shady bell) i think she’s left alone with a mirror, which i feel is more implied that she’s had for a long time, i’d say since childhood, you become more conscious the more you look at yourself and if your man seemed to be going for someone younger than you, you’d loose it too

(tl:dr - molly doesn’t deserve any hate, the girls that get it, get it, men don’t, im so ready to talk about chapter 4&6)

The poem

-

Uaibhreach

(the irish gaelic word which means “being proud and arrogant to the extent that it alienates & isolates you from those around you, leading to loneliness)

I was a girl - until your call

(i’m not going to annotate this everytime but the religion of this actually makes me feel like my hearts being ripped out)

Commanded me to cross the sea.

(she was driven out of ireland looking for freedom and adventure and she was enthralled by dutch’s charm, to be honest i always saw her “privileged upbringing” being her family owning a big farm, or in a big industry, a lot of irish people immigrated to canada after the potato famine, then crossed to america)

I've nothing left. I gave you all.

(i think she means this in, like, every sense)

My darling Liffey was so small.

Your land and love are vast and free.

(‘MERICA)

I was a girl until your call.

You stood so strong, and dark and tall.

You stole the heartbeat out of me.

I've nothing left. I gave you all.

Your lips enchant, your eyes enthrall,

Your empire is of ecstasy.

I was a girl until your call.

Your parasites and lackeys crawl,

(now do i think this is the gang or her fault that they don’t like her, i think its a mutual thing, they see her as a spoiled woman and she doesn’t help that opinion but i think she’s a young woman manipulated by an older guy, and that she thinks they’re all just jealous (which im sure she even says a few times)

Mocking a love they dare not see.

(going back to when she try’s to seek abigail’s help, or when she confronts karen later on and that she can’t see that he’s really not interested in her)

I've nothing left. I gave you all.

I sit in solitude and scrawl

These wretched words, and wait for thee.

I was a girl until your call.

I've nothing left. I gave you all.

[cataschism]

indulge me, if you will ... any beth headcanons to share? i'd love to read some if you have any :'))

I’ll link as we go along to posts that you, Hal, made, and that I’m referencing when I describe Beth!

Less of a headcanon, more of an observation: I’ve noticed in Beth’s dialogue she doesn’t often use people’s names; in contrast, she uses their descriptors. Older brother, naive sister. She only uses Josh when he’s not awake, as if she doesn’t want to be heard. I am however connecting this with your post about Beth being called the perfect one - &. am using this for the fact that she derives characteristics from people and then identifies them that way.

As a continuation, I don’t think Beth cares that much about the way she voices her opinions. In our thread, specifically this reply: (xxx) Beth asks Josh: “did you even like me at all?” which, while a PTSD dream, I think Beth would have asked if given a chance post-death. I think Beth is a very verbally abrasive person, but you don’t see it much. ( This also doesn’t mean that she doesn’t feel guilt for being this way, but rather, she can’t stop herself from saying her mind. )

These now are like, not headcanons based in observations or game easter eggs etc, but rather what I have felt intuitively writing Beth, and building her outwards. 

I don’t think she wanted to be an actress, partially due to the family’s director / fame / movie background. (Hal post about the family biz, xxx) I think she probably wanted to be in some stem field, going down the route of being the “perfect one,” (xxx) by going into an extremely competitive field. Additionally, she didn’t wanna be a doctor / lawyer, but a researcher. Had she lived, she might have specifically gone down the route of exploring medication effects. ( If not for Josh, xxx, related meta ) Officially maybe a psychiatrist, if she had to do clinical work, but she liked research the best.

She smells like vanilla perfume, because it’s easy to find &. usually fairly cheap ( just something she can find easily ) but she also really liked the scent of pineapples. Perfume was pretty common for Beth.

Beth relates a lot of her life in the twin mentality, as in she thinks of things in twos. Her parents, Chris+Josh, her+Hannah. Things are often doubled up in Beth’s mind, and it takes a lot of work to unravel those people to be singles. I think that’s why she likes for people to have descriptors, so she can easily define each person solo, rather than just thinking about people together. ( I also don’t think she supported Hannah’s crush on Mike for this reason, that their descriptors “didn’t match” to Beth and therefore they were incompatible. Right before her death, she was vindicated in this aspect. )

I also think Beth’s way of describing Josh was “resilient,” Hannah was obviously “naive.” I think Beth called herself either “stubborn” or “honest,” both not necessarily positive or negative. Naive & honest worked because Beth could tell her like it was and she wouldn’t be tricked, as well as stubborn & resilient worked because they would do something to the end, together.  Personally, Emily is seen as the “bitchy” archetype, but I think she saw Mike that way. Emily was probably “opinionated,” if not “insightful.”

[softpine]

what r some of ur fav hints/easter eggs from past posts that u can talk about now? any that ended up being scrapped?

oooh this is a fun question!! the first thing i thought of is caroline not knowing how to swim. it was mentioned a few times when she was a teenager

because my original plan was for caroline to have a near-death experience while drunkenly falling off a boat in DSV, which would've been a wake up call for her and would've made her start thinking about returning home (ie. returning to safety). but that was before i decided to go down the supernatural route with asa's story (actually, this was before i even decided that cara would have a kid someday), so i scrapped that idea and decided the real turning point for cara would be seeing that vision of asa! but then i still had to give an explanation for why i kept mentioning she can't swim, so i had beth teach her how to swim, as a way of signifying caroline's growth and newfound ability to step outside her comfort zone :)

...

ALSO THE SCRAPPED CHEATING SUBPLOT FJKSJDSKJ

okay. hop into the time machine with me. stevie and matt have been not dating, but not not dating, for a year now. matt has just seen some texts on stevie's phone which make him think she's seeing other people on the side. you can tell he's not mad, in fact he's openly joking about it with her. so he's really confused when stevie says she hasn't been seeing anyone other than him. truthfully – and i can only say this now – matt wouldn't have cared if she was. but they establish that neither of them has been seeing anyone other than each other. there's an unspoken agreement that they're exclusive now, even though they still don't put labels on their relationship.

okay now we're at the dock where stevie professed her love, but here's where things deviate: matt was not supposed to break up with her here. in my original draft, he would've said he loves her too and then continued to date stevie (WITH labels now), knowing they're a dead end, but being too cowardly to say anything. it would take stevie a few weeks to realize matt isn't as enthusiastic about their relationship as she is, but she convinces herself that she's being paranoid. things start to get worse as matt loses interest and gets worse and worse at hiding it. it's not that he doesn't love or care about stevie, it's just that the guilt of lying to her is making it hard to even want to be around her, so it seems like he just doesn't give a shit about her anymore.

eventually, stevie confronts him about it. she's not trying to guilt trip him, but she can't hide how upset she is, and it makes matt dig his grave even deeper because he feels this instinct to assure stevie that he DOES love her and he DOES want to be with her. he apologizes for acting weird lately and he's honest about the fact that he had a contrasting idea of who stevie was before they started dating, so now he's trying to reconcile the person he invented in his head with who stevie actually is, but he still loves her and he promises he'll make a greater effort. so they KEEP DATING...

but things don't get better. because of their prior conversations, stevie believes she's the problem. as a test, she tries to act the way she acts around strangers: loud, funny, and impersonal – and the worst part is, matt actually seems more interested now.

nearing graduation, matt and stevie go tour a college campus a few hours out of town. they get invited to a house party. (it's a just chill gathering, not a PARTY party. they smoke a little but neither of them are drinking.) matt is having a great time impressing everyone with his ~extreme sports~ stories, but stevie is becoming increasingly upset because of something that happened earlier (which might still happen so i can't say anything about it lol) and she just wants to go home, but they took matt's car, so she can't leave until he does. he doesn't even notice when stevie goes outside alone. she's sitting in the cold for a while before this guy approaches her and offers her his jacket. he has this vibe

and if you know anything about stevie, that's literally her type fjkjsds

so this guy, cameron, sits with her and they start talking. he's a freshman studying aeronautical engineering. stevie obviously thinks this is fucking awesome and wants to know everything about it. they talk for a LONG time. when stevie realizes how cold cameron must be, since she's wearing his jacket, she's like omg let's go somewhere else... so they walk back to cameron's dorm and keep talking. matt does check on her via text, but stevie says she found another ride home, and matt doesn't push further. she and cameron talk for literally hours, long after the party ends and matt has undoubtedly gone home, but stevie is just so relieved to be herself around someone, not worried about how she's acting or being perceived.

eventually, of course, they kiss. stevie is overwhelmed with regret immediately and blurts out that she has a boyfriend, which cameron is shocked by because she hasn't mentioned anything about him even though she basically shared her entire life story. stevie realizes she doesn't have much of anything to say about matt. she loves him, but at this point she's really just punishing herself by staying with him when she knows he doesn't feel the same way, and because she's afraid no one will ever pursue her the way matt did. but here's cameron, disproving this theory in real time. she kisses him again. thankfully he knows she's not in the right headspace to do anything more than that. they end up getting snacks from the vending machine and continuing to talk all night, falling asleep together just as the sun starts rising. (and if you've ever cuddled with someone in a TINY dorm bed, you'll know that's somehow more intimate than sex lmao)

when stevie wakes up, she feels awful about what she'd done and she sneaks out of the dorm before cameron wakes up. she calls her dad to come pick her up. considering he finds his daughter crying outside some guy's dorm in the same clothes she left in, owen assumes the worst, so stevie has to awkwardly tell him what really happened so that owen won't drive them straight to the police station. she doesn't even know why she called her dad of all people. as soon as he finds out it was consensual and stevie just feels guilty about it, owen tries to cheer her up by being like "aww don't worry, i've cheated too!! 👍🏻 it doesn't make you a bad person, you can't help it, you're just like me and your mom :D" which is just about the worst thing stevie could possibly hear in this situation...

stevie doesn't even try to keep this a secret from matt. she tells him exactly what happened on that same day. i'm not going to get too far into the aftermath of this, because obviously i scrapped this plot and it doesn't really matter anymore. but matt's reaction to finding out he had been cheated on... it's kinda interesting. he gets frustrated with stevie because she's the one who wanted to be exclusive in the first place, while matt had a "take it or leave it" kinda attitude towards exclusivity (in fact, part of the reason he'd been drawn to stevie in the first place was because she didn't want to tie herself down so quickly). so matt has been completely faithful because stevie asked him to be, but then stevie is the one who cheated? it really bothers him. in the end, matt is the one who breaks up with her. he leaves the relationship feeling like he was the one who got burned. he's never forced to acknowledge the ways in which he fucked up long before stevie did – essentially she gave him an "out". meanwhile stevie now believes she's incapable of staying in a committed relationship and swears off love for a while (which is where she's at right now in canon, so, hey. we circled back).

the reason why i didn't go down this route is because, for the main plot to progress, i needed stevie to be at rock bottom AND estranged from elaine. i also needed elaine to be angry at matt, and be disappointed in austin. it would've taken way too long to get to all those points if i went ahead with the cheating plot, so i cut it. but i still feel like all of these actions are in-character and this easily COULD have been the reality if matt hadn't had that one burst of courage on the dock lol

[thesongbiird]

in your ideal world, what does life look like in the universe where beth has never died? how has beth developed without that happening? what kind of person has she become? what is her relationship like with some of the characters that came on after she died? do you think she would still eventually die from something else, if so what? or do you think she'd outlive everyone?

Oh my goodness, thank you so much for sending this!! I'm going to try and break this down bc I always have way too much to say about Beth in general, and I can feel this is gonna get long!

Firstly, in my ideal world, if Beth never died, I believe she would have continued her journey into becoming a fighter. We saw glimpses of who she was becoming. She was strong and resilient, and she survived that hospital all on her own like a damn boss. I think that experience would have made her believe in herself and her own capabilities and realise that she didn't have to be taken care of. She could protect herself and the people around her. I think she would have grown to be a real asset, tough and strong but never losing her heart and kindness. Honestly, I think the group really suffered with the loss of Hershel and then Beth, the two characters who had the most hope and optimism.

I think she would have absolutely thrived in Alexandria and would have thrown herself into the community. She would have remained close in particular with Daryl and Carol, given that she spent time after the fall of the prison with Daryl and she had taken care of Carol when she was in Grady. In terms of the characters Beth never got to meet there are a few relationships that I think could have been great to explore. I think she would have gotten close with Sasha, I feel that her and Maggie are fairly similar and Beth would gravitate toward her because of that. I feel that it could have been so interesting to see her dealing with the aftermath of Negan, especially given what we saw of Beth's character. She would struggle with her morals, despising Negan for what he did to Glenn and Maggie but I don't think she'd want him dead. I think on some level she'd agree with Rick's decision to keep him alive and maybe that would cause some conflict with Maggie.

If I'm being honest I think she probably still would have died. Most likely in Alpha's line up. Obviously I would have wanted her to live and to survive and have a long and happy life but I don't imagine that's too realistic. I also think that could have made the whole whisperer arc/Alpha's lineup a lot more impactful and interesting. On the show I liked it but the characters we lost weren't ones who had been around for particularly long.

On the whole I would say that Beth is a great example of wasted potential and killing a character for shock value. Personally I adore her character because she's the most relatable to me. She doesn't immediately know how to fight and thrive during the end of the world. She's soft and sweet and she struggles but then the writers gave us a glimpse of who she could become, without losing those traits I already loved about her and I feel that her death was a total waste of that potential. It wasn't the death itself but the timing of it that it found disappointing. If they'd continued her arc and let her grow and become the character that she was proving to be and killed her off later it would have been one of the most heartbreaking deaths in the show and a wonderful character arc. Instead it felt as though they had a great character potential which was totally thrown away.

I have ranted for so long but to conclude I love Beth Greene with my whole damn soul and I MISS HER EVERYDAY.

[michelleelizabethtanner]

Random GG question for you!! If season 3 hadn’t been cut short, what do you think the ending would have been? I know they basically just continued with the storyline in S4, but I still can’t help but feel cheated of those 5 eps!

Feels like they could have wrapped up hitman, maybe SS, then maybe Rio gets arrested at end of S3? But would they have done the whole Rio get arrested fakeout for a finale when they already did it S1??

UGH just feels like if they were able to wrap up more of those storylines in S3, we could have had more interesting Beth/Rio/nick content across S4. BUT probably wishful thinking lol

Anyways, would love to hear your thoughts!

Anon! Hi! Idk what the standard turnaround is on asks here to be considered peak etiquette. I’m on vacation from work this week so naturally I’ve been ridiculously busy. 😂😂 But I’ve been thinking about this question.

I do think s3 had some whiplash moments. Like this one. Where it didn’t make much sense for why exactly Rio was behaving the way he was. But I do think that the general gist of 4.04 would have been how s3 wrapped. It had the shooting of someone (Fitz), which is how every season appears to have been planned to wrap up. And there seems to be a pretty clear delineation between Rio’s emotions pre and post Fitz execution that I think fit a little better into a natural progression leading to forgiveness.

I’ll be honest, it does hurt my brain sometimes to try and think of why the story did what it did. I don’t hate the hitman plot. I think it’s a really good way to illustrate Beth’s inner conflict. It does ask the viewer to constantly read between the lines, and the moments of emotional honesty (even when she’s being dishonest) are lost in the peripheral nonsense. That’s actually the problem with this show, now that I’m rambling about it. The peripheral nonsense. The general trajectory of how Beth grows into herself, how Rio comes to terms with his weakness, how Brio decide to slowly choose each other… That’s all fine. It could have used a little more blatant telling. A little more consistency. But ultimately… okay. But the peripheral nonsense, the time waste, the hours focused on things no one cared about and that which ultimately didn’t progress the story – all that is what bogged it down and made it feel so unsatisfying. S4, after 4.08, is basically useless filler. Too slow and too uninteresting in how it moved the primary story.

And listen, I also wanna add that it isn’t just the Brio investment that makes me say this. I’m all for quality meaningful character development for everyone. But how exactly does trash boyfriend progress Annie? If anything, he illustrates how stagnant she is in her awful life choices. How does bike gang progress Dean? Again, it just highlights the same ol’ character flaws he had from the start. I did very much enjoy the way Stan became much more honest in his resentment of Beth. I always viewed him as not loving the Bolands, and especially not Beth. So his and Ruby’s arc, to me, was pretty well paced and one of the few interesting peripheral storylines in the show. But overall, so much of the magic of seasons 1 and 2 got lost in the subsequent seasons because the peripheral writing became too rambly and lacking direction. Kinda like this post hahahaha!!

What would you have liked to have seen as a season 3 finale?

[brooklynislandgirl]

"She's a 10, but she's the only reason purple glitter pens are still a thing." (Stephen)

Wait For It....||

...Says the man who had more watches than Imelda Marcos had shoes. But Beth doesn't say that out loud. She isn't the kind of person who will reply to a harmless bit of teasing with cruelty, and the only reason it even comes to mind is because in some ways she's as comfortable with Stephen as she ever was with her brother, which makes him distinct from everyone else she knows. The only other person she's now so free with is her hanai-sister. Instead, Beth laughs. It crinkles the corners of her nose and shows her teeth. Warmth in her tone and a little touch of shyness that has her glancing down. "Well, at least my notes are immaculate an' distinctive. Know who wrote dem jus' by glancing at da page." She never imagined those years ago when she left ~though perhaps if she were honest about the situation, it was more a running away from him, from her conflicted feelings on two different fronts, and largely herself~ that she would again be working with him side-by-side. And she especially never imagined that it would be outside of the surgical field, protecting sleepers from themselves and the threats beyond their mundane lives. Threats that by and large most of them never dreamed of before, and did not really know how to process even now when they had no other choice but to accept such things were real. From within the veil of her hair she offers Stephen an adoring glance, one that has never changed from the first moment she'd ever laid eyes on him. He'd held her rapt in the lecture hall, continued to captivate her with scalpel in hand, and now as he wove the lifeblood of the universe with incantations and relics, she's still mesmerised. But it only lasts for the length of a heartbeat before she turns back to the small gathering of students.

"But don't let that fool you," she says with achingly precise words. "Master Strange is also a ten, but everything he does comes with its own soundtrack." She uses that as the basis to launch into their shared lecture about foci; ritual tools and their ability to concentrate a magician's will into the working at hand.

[brooklynislandgirl]

While he sits, she watches surreptitiously to see if there's any ginger motions, any indication that he's hiding aches and pains or other wounds. His suit shows plenty of wear and tear that she can't do anything about without the awkward conversation of him undressing and she's not sure they've quite reached that kind of intimacy. And as form-fitting as it is, she isn't sure he's got proper undergarments beneath it for modesty's sake. Beth's absolutely certain he's right, but she gets the feeling that the man beneath the superhero wouldn't exactly be one of them, or at least that's the sense she gets from his tone, his body language. He sounds almost sad as he speaks of himself from an outside perspective. But he does strike a chord in her when he mentions the loneliness, and the vast sense of helpless when something ~someone~ slips through your fingers despite your best efforts. "For what it's wor'd? I don't really t'ink dat's true. An'please don' take it da wrong way but…we're not built li'dat." She means that in all sincerity. When given the metaphorical keys to the kingdom, instead of becoming self-centred, instead of seeking fame and glory, they both made choices to help those around them. The ones who by-and-large have no voice, no power, no protection. "An' you're not wrong. So many of dem which should tell us about a universal imbalance, yeah?" Her upper lip curls at the thought of certain other so-called heroes. She could name quite a few who are more in it for the kicks and perks than in helping those who need it. She could name a dozen or more who live in terror of being discovered for what they are because of the shifting tides of public opinion and governmental control. She knows if her mana were to be discovered, they'd sooner vivisect her than heap praise on her though that was the least of any desire she could conjure from within herself. She washes the uncharitable thoughts away with a life-giving sip of coffee, and a brow raises in place of a smile when he glances up to her. She understands the need for a shadow-name. Many a mage will cloak their true-name behind one or more identities to protect themselves and their secrets. If she were being honest, the Beth Riley the public knows bears no resemblance to her private self, the kahuna. The witch. "Yeah, dat name I feel like I've heard, but no can put finger on it. I'm sorry." The apology is for interrupting, as he explains the villain of whom he speaks. The description is wholly unflattering in places and gives her a visible shudder contemplating it. Of course, he could also be describing one of her Cousins, particularly the wolves or the Rokea, especially the particularly angry ones, or one of the fallen to Qyrl's machinations. She doesn't say so, those aren't fully her secrets to reveal, even if she trusts him to keep her secrets. He begins to get to the crux of the matter, slowly unspooling what must in a way feel like a personal failure in the face of all that he knows to be true. Has to keep herself from interrupting although she can't quite hide the smile at certain names. Iron Fist gets the softest look with gentle eyes and a hint of pink in the tips of her ears, across her nose. Danny Rand is a very special sort of young man, their families having a long history and the fact that Danny is just a little lax on secret identities just makes her soft on him. A few come as surprise. She hadn't expected one of Charles Xavier's brood amongst his contacts though she shouldn't be surprised. She is surprised when he mentions Steve. Of all those names, new or familiar, she would think that Steve would be the voice of reason, understanding, and not one prone think of death as a solution. A stone of shame sinks in her belly as she continues to hold her tongue.

She watches his inner turmoil play out in the movements of his limbs, the way he looks at her, those white empty eyes surprisingly emotive in conveying his grief, his despair, and his own desires. She peels herself away from the counter she'd been resting against, placing her cup beside his and refilling both. Then she comes around and sits on the stool beside his, before one soft and gentle hand alights onto his forearm. She means to be comforting without impinging on his autonomy. "So…let's rewind some. First, people are always bound to get hurt, an' mostly ones dat don't deserve it at all. Dere's only so much you can do an' your part in da Tapestry is only one t'read. You've chosen t' defend ya city. You've got a code of e'tics dat some might considah weak." She can think of one particular person, who has even done the unthinkable in his belief that he was keeping her hands clean, her soul innocent. "If dere was a monster dat did horrible kine to a child, an' you found me bein' on da side of retribution, would you blame me?" She holds up her other hand and shakes her head. "But again, dis isn't about me. Dis is about you an' I jus' wan you to know dat I see where you're comin' from, what you're sayin'. No shame in choosin' to hold back. No shame in choosin' to keep your hands clean no mattah what da case may be. You do da mos' good dat you can, an' wha' ya do wi' it is t' make peace wi' it. Go home when ya leave here, an' scrub da night off your skin wi' a shower. Put ya head on ya pillow or…web.. Like I dunno exactly where ya go when ya not patrollin' da city, but you get wha' I'm saying." She gives his arm a squeeze, then slides off the stool. She drifts away and prowls her living space, taking a framed photo off the mantle. When she returns to his side, she sets it in front of him. The image is a young man with long blonde hair and a neat blonde goatee. The armour and helm are unmistakable as having been forged in Edoras. Beside him is a small halfling with flowers in her hair. Both are smiling and the halfling is easily picked out as Beth at a much younger age. The man can only therefore be Andy as it is not Thor Odinson. "Sometimes you need t' be Aragorn, or Boromir. Sometimes ya need be T'randuil or Elrond, an' sometimes ya need to be Merry or Pipin." Different situations require different actions. She doesn't remind him that there would be no meaning in life if not for death and what waited beyond. She knows that better than anyone else she could name. "But ya no can make choices f' oddahs, who are demself try for do da same t'ing to da best dat dey can."

@brooklynislandgirl (continued from xx)

For all his well-meaning, for all his kindly affect, and for all his efforts towards justice and peace… Spider-Man does have a curious sense of decorum when it comes to entering buildings. Even he would make a point of acknowledging it. Most other people would simply use the front door, or perhaps even call ahead to alert their friends that they're in the neighborhood and want to drop in. In the curious case of Beth Riley, the portfolio is expanded beyond the simple niceties of companionship and possibly mutual attraction and also includes medical assistance, ranging from first aid to critical care. Given what she has to offer, it would naturally behoove him to maintain goodwill with her in whatever way he might.

And so one would think that he would be courteous enough to reach out to her when he's on his way to her place. Even more so since tonight, there is no emergency, medical or otherwise, that requires her unique skill-set. All he wants is her ear. Her thoughtful counsel. Maybe he wants her to lend voice to his own convictions, which have spent the better part of the night being tested both from within and without. The rips and tears in his outfit likely speak to the trials he faced tonight.

It won't be the last costume he mends. And it's very far removed from the first.

He can hardly blame Beth for taking her time in considering her reply, and she's far more generous to him than he's a right to receive, considering he'd simply shown up in her window. Beth is kind and gracious to a fault, and he thinks the Admiral likely had very little to do with that. He wishes, not for the first time, that he could have met her brother. From what little she's been willing to share about him, he sounds like both an outright terror, and the perfect safeguard for her. Someone who recognized she was too good for this world and did his level best to shield her from the worst of it whenever he could.

He slips onto the bar stool and listens intently while Beth offers her reply. Speaks to her perspective of living in perpetual paradox. Varied and contradictory belief systems clashing against one another full-time, demanding wildly different behaviors of her in any given moment. He bobs his head. It's a familiar place she describes. He has a home there, too.

"I'll bet you could ask a bunch of folks out there, they'd say that being Spider-Man has got to be pretty awesome," he murmurs, as he clasps his hands about the coffee mug she's given him. "All that strength. All that acrobatic skill. He could do anything he wanted to. If I had all that ability, what would I do with it? Pro wrestling, maybe, or Cirque du Soleil. Perform, make tons of money, travel the world. Not be stuck in this dead-end job… not be lonely… not feel helpless."

He gives a listless shrug that probably looks more morose than it's actually meant to convey. "I could be doing all of that. Or none of that, and something else entirely. I don't have to do this. Superpowered people in costumes are a dime a dozen in New York. But then, so are jerks who're always looking to take by force what's not theirs."

He turns his head a little, as though glancing from his cup to Beth. "There's a long story behind it, but maybe you've heard of a guy who calls himself Carnage. He's… well, he's one seriously bad guy. Really messed up in the head. And he has super powers which just make it way easier for him to do what he wants. Which is to kill pretty much everyone. He's like if Charlie Manson was bulletproof and could turn his hands into knives."

He swipes a hand like he's brushing a dust bunny off her immaculate kitchen island. "Anyway, tonight was a big, long fight with him. Bunch of good people got hurt. I had the chance to take him down. Like, for good." He hesitates, tilting his head back contemplatively. "Why do they call it that? Is it good, when you take a life?"

Then he peers at her again. "I couldn't do it. Not even for this guy. I left him to the folks who'll lock him back up, with no guarantee that he won't escape again and start it all up again. And the people who wanted to know why I held back. Cops. Cloak and Dagger. Iron Fist. Wolverine. Ghost Rider -- Beth, I had Captain America telling me nobody would've blamed me if I'd taken him out. Do you know what that's like, having one of your superhero idols telling you, 'You could have sacrificed your principles and I wouldn't have looked at you any differently'?"

He sets his palms on the wood surface of the bar. "What am I supposed to do with that? I've never killed anyone. What would even give me the right? Do the rules change when it's someone bad enough?"

He lets out a sigh, not really expecting an answer from her immediately. For all he knows, she's only catching about half of what he's saying; he knows the mask occludes some of her ability to comprehend him. But it's not like Peter Parker could tell her about any of this while serving soup at the FEAST Center, now, is it?

"I keep thinking about that moment when Frodo says he wishes Bilbo had killed Gollum when he had the chance. And then Gandalf says, 'Many who live deserve death, and some who die deserve life. Can you give it to them?' And I know the answer for myself, anyway. I take a life, I can't ever give it back. That's not one of my superpowers. And life is precious. It's so fleeting and fragile. It's not mine to take away from someone. I already know what…"

He bites his tongue just in time. He already knows what his dearly departed uncle would say. He already knows what his heart tells him is right.

He already knows how it feels to watch in impotence as a life is stolen away.

"… I can respect myself." He says it tightly enough that it's evident he struggles to really believe it. "When I look in the mirror, I see someone who's driven to do the right thing. I just don't think I realized that so many of my peers figured 'right' to be a movable feast, depending on who it's getting served to. And I don't know if I can look at some of them the same way now."

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Not One of Many - Chapter Ten.

I thought I would spoil you with another surprise update as a thank you for your readership, guys. I am so flattered by your continued commentary and love of the story! 

Previous chapters - Prologue  One  Two  Three  Four  Five  Six  Seven  Eight  Nine

Tag list - In the comments

Words - 3,326

Warnings - 18+ content, adult audience only. Minors DNI!

Beth awoke at 8am the following morning, finding herself alone on the sofa. She felt a little deflated by that, but ultimately, with her brain now back to normal and not addled by weed, saw that such was best. What they’d slipped into the night before, she couldn’t let herself enjoy too much. She just couldn’t, for it would not lead to anything conducive to her emotional wellbeing.  

What she wanted from him, the sexual element aside, would never be on offer to her.

She knew she liked him on an emotional level, but he wasn’t offering exclusivity, and she could not compromise on that.  

Peeling herself up off the sofa, the early summer sun streamed in through the window, the space so different to the cosy, shadowy, amber tinted realm she’d been so happily absconded to with him the night before. Heading upstairs, she heard him from his office, discussing business affairs on the phone, everything back to normal. She took a quick shower, pulled on her comfy, torn up jeans and a drop shoulder t shirt, leaving her hair tied up and her face makeup free, but well moisturised in a liberal smothering of Nivea.  

She had nowhere to be until lunchtime, meeting up for an afternoon of shopping and lunch with Magda, who was having a well-deserved week away from her beloved wardrobe department, so went and prepared breakfast, eating it before sitting down at her laptop, continuing to get her article written.

“Morning, pretty lady.” Amira entered the kitchen, swathed in her Gucci pyjamas, a sheet mask upon her face. “Mimi and I are going to throw some serious cash at Bond Street later, care to join us?” Heading to the cupboard, she pulled out her low carb bread, placing three slices into the toaster.

“Oh, I’d love to, but I already have plans to meet my bestie,” Beth sighed, although it was no hardship for her. It wasn’t that she didn’t like Alfie’s girlfriends, but Magda was her person. Also, if she was honest with herself, she felt a few conflicting emotions towards them both at present. The obvious was a little slither of envy, knowing she could have what they did if it wasn’t for her own stipulations on what constituted an acceptable relationship, and also, she’d noted something last night while spending the course of it with Alfie. They hadn’t come to check on him once.  

She wondered whether because of the nature of girls coming and going from his life, whether they presumed such didn’t truly impact him? Or, was it because Alfie, for all appearances, was the constant pillar of strength, the boss, the straight talking sharp shooter who never let himself be swayed by petty bullshit? Underneath it all, he was still human. He still had feelings, of which she had witnessed first-hand while listening to him, and then later, hugging him when he’d needed her. She’d found their lack of regard over that somewhat irksome. His strong persona did not negate the fact they should have shown him concern.  

“That’s a pity,” she lamented, waiting for her toast to pop up before giving it a liberal smear in peanut butter. “Want a slice of this?”

“Oh, no thanks. I’ve eaten already, and I’m deathly allergic to peanuts, full on anaphylaxis if I even get a hint of them.”

Amira’s eyes widened. “Blimey! I’ll make sure I clean up well after myself, then!” Plating her toast, she went about this by taking cleaning spray and a sponge, giving the chopping board a thorough dousing. “So, how’s your article coming along? I bet last night gave you some really explosive content for it, huh?”

It did, but Beth wouldn’t give a blow-by-blow account. Her journalism was classier than that. “It’ll make for an interesting snippet along with the broader picture, yes. How’s Mimi this morning?”

“She’s alright, still a bit shaken at being slapped but glad Talia and her negativity are out of our lives now. Anyway, I’m off for a bath, babe. See you later.” Leaving the kitchen, Amira turned in the other direction, heading down to Alfie’s office. That was good, Beth thought, actually going to see him. Until she overheard their conversation.

“Hi gorgeous, how’s work going?”

“Yeah, not bad baby, not bad. How are you and Mims? Have a good night?”

“Yes, we just chilled. Listen, we’re off out shopping later, but I just wondered, since it’s Monday and it was formerly Talia’s night, are we going out together? Did you have anything planned?”

“I’ll have to see later, love. I’ve got this Dubai deal to put a lot of work into, so I’ll see where I’m at with it this afternoon and book us in somewhere if I’m gonna have time.”

“Okay, sweetie. Love you.”

“Love you too, darlin’. Enjoy your day.”

She didn’t even ask how he was after the breakup. Had she been so glaringly selfish all along, and Beth simply did not notice because of how nice and welcoming she’d been towards her, how in love she seemed when discussing her relationship with Alfie, too? Either way, her mouth hung open for a few moments, shaking her head, her fingers continuing at the keyboard in front of her.  

Making substantial progress, after two hours of hard slog, she rewarded herself with shutting her laptop early, eyeing Cyril out of the corner of her eye. “Sir, I see you carry with you an ill-gotten chewy Vuitton. I’m gonna come get it, I am! I’m coming to getcha!” she spoke in playful tones, the big dog woofing through a mouthful of plush as he started to bounce, engaging her in play as she ran at him, grabbing the toy and playfully wrestling with him, Spike and Sid trotting over to join in on the fun.

The play was contained to the kitchen, the chewy Vuitton in question dropped in favour of the large tug rope belonging to Cyril, who waved it in tease, Beth grabbing onto it, the big dog pulling her so hard, she felt flat, in hysterics as she was towed from the kitchen, his playful growls along with her giggles filling the air as he slid her along the hallway floor. She suddenly had a panic about the noise disturbing Alfie as she slid towards his office, but the face he made through the glass at the scene couldn’t have been more entertained.  

‘Fuck, I’m gonna miss that girl being here so bloody much.’ He thought, turning away from his screen and arching an eyebrow as she waved, Cyril still diligently towing her along. “The housekeeper uses a buffer on that floor, but if you want to use your tits, don’t let me stop you.” he quipped.  

“Boob buffed is superior!”  

“Innit?” he chuckled, watching as she gave up and got up, coming to the open office door. “You done being silly now?”

“Yes, I think I have that out of my system!” She was so adorable. “How are you doing today?”

He liked that she had the courtesy to ask. It hadn’t gone unnoticed, that his girlfriend's hadn’t. He knew they saw him as somewhat emotionally untouchable though, and for that, he forgave them. He hadn’t ever let them see the part of himself that Beth had. “I’m fine, treacle. Thanks for being great last night. You still off out with Magda in a bit?”

“I am, yes. I need to get my arse in gear, actually.”  

“Where’d you say you were meeting her?”

“Nobu. We’re pushing the boat out.”  

“Well, I’ve got a meeting in Mayfair at 2pm, so I’ll give you a lift.”

“Appreciated, thank you.” She smiled, turning and leaving him to it.  

“Yep, Bethany Alexis Drake. You’re too lovely by far.”

Continuing with his work, he put in another hour before heading upstairs to change into a suit, three piece and iron grey with a dark blue shirt, finding Beth waiting for him by the front door. He slowed as he walked to her, taking her in. She wore a simple yellow dress and a pair of Vivienne Westwood flipflops, her hair pulled back in a clip, save a few strands here and there. No fake tan, no overly contoured face, no mouth full of gloss, and she looked exquisite for it.  

She was so very different to what he was used to.

“Come on then, let’s get you out of here.”  

While he drove, he detailed his meeting at her request, Beth recording their conversation on her phone for the purposes of the article.  

Looking out of the window, watching London sail by from her high vantage point within the black Range Rover, she turned to him, wondering why she hadn’t asked the question she was about to pose the previous evening. “Yesterday, you asked me to list everything that brings me joy and makes me happy. What about you? Tell me yours.”

He didn’t miss a beat in replying. “Success, a good haircut, Cyril, my phone, Santorini, I’ve got a house there, by the way, history, red liquorice, women in Louboutin's, Denis Leary, Italian cars, Indian food, my girls, old books, me mum’s brisket, Gaudi, oral sex – particularly giving – Beethoven, summer evenings, Steve’s jokes, your giggle, money, that brand new smell puppies have, boxing, working out, ornamental knives, Nat King Cole, snowboarding, nails down my back, nice legs, New York, spider monkey’s, pool, 90’s cartoons, shibari, Scotland, long walks in the countryside, Queens of the Stone Age, orgasms, apricot jam, Guy Richie films, formula one, love notes, CD’s, winter in Aspen, vintage watches, tattoos and that’s all I can think of off the top of my head, darlin’.”

He’d included her giggle. It gave her a pleasant flutter in her tummy, to hear that. She couldn’t deny either, at hearing he particularly enjoyed giving oral sex, she imagining him doing it to her, clamping her thighs, her heart skipping a beat.  

“Any idea what time you’ll be back?”

“No clue. Our shopping sprees can run long over the allotted time, but thanks for the lift, and I’ll see you later.”

He smiled, winking. “You will, Bethany with the lovely legs.”

Entering the restaurant, she saw Magda wave from the far corner, the hostess escorting her to the table.  

“Hello, sweet. You look crackin’! That dress is gorgeous, old Miu Miu, ain’t it?” she greeted her with, rising to kiss her cheek.  

“It is! It's a classic,” Beth confirmed, pouring herself a water from the jug.

“I’ll say. So, how’s everything going over at chez Solomons, then?”  

Before Beth could answer, a waiter appeared with a champagne bucket and two flutes, Magda looking surprised.  

“Oh, there must be some mistake. We didn’t order this,” Beth spoke politely.  

“Is one of you ladies Beth Drake?”

“I am, yes,” she confirmed, the waiter going ahead and popping the cork.

“Then I have the correct table. Courtesy of a Mr Weasel, madam.” he confirmed bemusedly, Beth spluttering her sip of water as he poured out two glasses.

“Wanna let Mags here in on the joke? I’m assuming it was Alfie sending over a four hundred quid bottle of Armand de Brignac, but why Mr Weasel?”

It took her a few moments to compose herself, grinning widely as she remembered the utter hysterics they’d fallen into the previous night. “Alfie and I were talking about that old cartoon, Ren and Stimpy, and he revealed that he’d thought Ren to be a weasel, and it just absolutely killed me!”

Magda stared, entertained. “Anybody in the world can see that he was a cantankerous little chihuahua,” she laughed huskily, shaking her head. “Sounds like you’re getting on well with him.”

“I am, he’s a really great guy, you know. There’s a real humble fella behind the designer suits and the many millions of pounds. I think I’m going to get a really top-class article out of this.”

Magda read the look on her face, her brightness, her usual sparkle amped up by a few notches. “Oh yeah? A new boyfriend too, I might wager.”

Beth shook her head, sighing a little. “No. I won’t be one of three.”

“I thought he had three already?”

“He and the third parted ways last night.” Sipping her champagne, she widened her eyes a little, Magda expectant.

“I sense a story here.”

“Oy, it was a shanda!” Beth began, before detailing it all. Magda tickled by her use of Yiddish. That’s when she knew something was about to be very juicy in the revelation of. She took her back to her arrival, detailing the way Talia had acted standoffish and rude towards her from the first moment, explaining her general demeanour, her arguments with Alfie, her own little moments with him, too. In fact, she gave a complete blow by blow of her time at St Mark’s House, the dynamic of the relationships within, every last little detail, Magda nodding as she sipped her champagne, absorbing it all like a sponge.  

After she’d finished, there was but one statement on the fashion chief’s mind, soon her lips. “You’re gonna move in, aren’t you?”

“Absolutely not. I’ve told him, I’m not one of many.”

“Then toots, you need to be the next woman who departs from his house. I know you better than anyone, and I know you when you’re losing your head. It’s happening now. He won’t ever be able to give you what you want, which is himself excluding all others, so seriously, pack up and hot foot it out of there, before that tender little heart of yours cops a walloping.”  

Beth took a breath, sipping her champagne, her mouth feeling a little dry. “I know what I’m doing, Mags. I don’t expect him to cease his lifestyle because he wants me. If he does that badly, then my terms are non-negotiable.”

“But it’s gonna hurt you, staying longer, seeing everything you could have, if only he weren’t so flippin’ greedy with his women.”

“It’s fine, honestly.”

“That’s what you’re telling yourself, but I’m a different kettle of fish, my girl. Honestly, don’t put yourself through it. I could see you falling for this man, taking into consideration the connection you’ve just detailed that you have with him. By all means, if you want to fuck him when you’re done with your article, go have a swift one-night stand, get it out your system, but then draw a line under it, let him go his way and you yours, to someone capable of giving you what you need.”

She was thoughtful for a moment. “Actually, nah. Don’t fuck him. You’re too fucking good for that.” The people at the next table looked over disparagingly at Magda’s liberal sprinkling of the F word. “Hello, can I help you? No? Don’t be so bloody nosy, or I’ll have to tell you your fake Gucci don’t go with last season’s Prada, love.”

Beth placed her hand over her mouth in an attempt to stifle her laughter, Magda’s words starting to sink in a little as she turned back to her. “You sound like you’re coming from a place that thinks I’m hopeful that he’ll decide he just wants me and not the others. That simply isn’t true. I found myself imagining it, just for a little time last night, but I know the truth; he won’t. It’s the reality of the situation, as much as a part of me wouldn’t like it to be. It is what it is.”

“And it’s because he won't that you need to write your article and sever your tie with him. I know you ain’t some stupid, dreamy-headed bird, Beth, but get out now, before you have the chance to be.”  

“I hear you.” Underneath, though, a big part of her did not want to heed her friend’s advice. That was the part of her knew she’d likely get burned in all of this, too. “So, how’s work been? I bet you’re pleased to be away for a week.”

“I’m bloody not! I don’t trust them, those little wardrobe mice of mine. There’ll be moving things, messing up my order, the little scallywags!”

Beth rolled her eyes. Magda was a stickler for things being done her way. “But you’re looking forward to Paris, right?”

“Bring it on!” She and Dennis would leave on Wednesday, returning Sunday afternoon for their mini break, Paris one of Magda’s favourite places on earth. After their posh lunch, they headed to the shops to throw some serious cash at the registers, Beth kissing her goodbye with a big hug at half past five.  

“Remember, don’t you open those lovely legs to the man who can’t see your worth. Love you, baby doll.”

“Love you too, Mags.”

It was telling, that she couldn’t promise that. While she was under no illusions about a romantic future – or lack thereof – with Alfie, she knew very definitely she wanted a sexual one with him. Even if it was only one night which she’d then remember fondly before moving on with her life. A little taste of the man who exuded big dick energy, confidence, and a desire to literally tie her in knots.

Yes. She wanted some of that.  

Upon arriving back, she passed by the kitchen, finding the girls reading magazines and drinking coffee in a state of getting ready, putting her bags upstairs before joining them.

“Awww, spoil sport. You didn’t show off your purchases!” Amira spoke, poking out her bottom lip.  

“Oh, I didn’t get much. Just some new thongs, skincare stuff and makeup. You’ve converted me from my beloved Nivea after insisting I try your Charlotte Tilbury stuff. It’s like liquid heaven,” she chuckled, Amira nodding in agreement, fussing Spike, who was happily snuggled on her lap.

“It really is, worth every bloody penny!”

“So, what did you guys buy?”

“Half of Bond Street!” Mimi exclaimed, wriggling in her seat with excitement. “You better get your skates on, by the way. Alfie’s taking us to La Gavroche, so put something fancy on!” Fancy. She had just that in one of the dresses she had yet to wear from Magda’s clothing loan, a gorgeous, dark red Hervé Léger bandage dress she’d hoped to get a chance to wear. She took a quick shower, sparing her hair which didn’t need washing before smothering herself in lotion, re-applying minimal makeup, but with a red lip to match her dress, and leaving her hair down.

When Alfie saw her, heading down from his own room, his heart virtually somersaulted in his chest.

“Even though I sort of wish I was having a night like yesterday again, I have to say, I’m gonna be so proud, being seen out with a woman as stunning as you, sweetheart.” Halting her, he leaned down, kissing her cheek, smiling. “You’re about the loveliest thing I’ve ever seen, ya know.”

“Thanks, and thank you for the champagne earlier, it was very thoughtful. I nearly blew half my glass of water over the table when the waiter revealed the name!” He chuckled, pleased with himself, eyeing her adoringly.

“You’re welcome.” Reaching for her, he stroked her cheek briefly. “Yeah, definitely the loveliest.”  

She went to walk away, before he suddenly halted her again. “Are you absolutely sure you don’t wanna move in? A bloke could get very used to having you here, as I have.”

Miss Monday. That’s what she’d be, taking Talia’s place, but at the bottom of the pecking order, below Amira and Mimi. No. She wasn’t Miss Monday. She was Miss Every Day. “I’m absolutely sure, Alfie. I’m not one of many.”

He nodded, understanding, passing her to head down the stairs.

He might’ve called her the loveliest, yet she wasn’t lovely enough to be his one and only, and that, she thought, while walking down the stairs behind him, was such a shame. For him, though. She knew her worth. It was on him, if he didn’t see it too. 

[queenxxxsupreme]

Defender, Protector, Keeper (Arthur Morgan x f!reader)

A/N: This is one of those things I write that should have a first part but.... It doesn’t.... I do plan on making more within this little.... world??? With this mom!reader and her son Ben. So sorry for this mess. 

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: violence, nothing out of canon, Micah is mean to children, mute child (is that a warning?) fluff, Arthur being a father figureish thing, soft Arthur, I don’t know what else to tag, blood? it’s all canon to the game

Summary: Arthur steps in to help you with your son after a run in with Micah.

***

“Miss Y/L/N! Miss Y/L/N!”

You moved out of the tent upon hearing Mrs. Grimshaw calling your name. 

“Right here, Mrs. Grimshaw.” 

“There you are. Where is that boy of yours?” She looked around as if trying to peek into the tent. I’ve got a little chore for him and Jack.”

“He was just in here helping me with laundry, but he wouldn’t mind giving you a hand.” You turned to go into the tent. “Ben? Mrs. Grimshaw needs your help.”

Ben, your five-year-old son, put the clothing in his hand down and looked at you. 

“Come on with me, Ben. I’ve already got Jack over by the woods.” Susan gestured for him to follow her.

“What are the boys going to do?” You asked her. 

“Help Lenny and Sean pick some firewood. The little fellas ain’t gonna pick nothin’ but some small kindling. The fellas– Well, Lenny won’t let the boys hurt themselves.”

You fought the urge to volunteer to follow your son. It was just little kindling sticks and twigs. It wasn’t like they were going to chop down entire trees.

Susan, sensing your hesitation, stopped just at the edge of your tent.

“They aren’t going far into the woods at all, Y/N. Charles and Bill are on guard duty and Sean and Lenny are going to be with them. Nothin’s gonna happen to those boys.” She assured you.

You nodded your head, reaching down to run your fingers over Ben’s hair. 

“Go on and help Mrs. Grimshaw, Ben.”

He silently followed alongside her. 

You continued to fold laundry until it was finished. Once that was complete, you decided to go out and see if there was anything else around camp you could help with. 

It seemed to be a rather mellow evening. No one was out doing any jobs nor was anyone talking about any jobs, which was a rarity. In the three months that you had been staying with the Van Der Linde Gang, you had quickly realized their lifestyle was fast paced and there was almost always something to do. 

You made your way over towards the tent the girls in camp stayed in. 

“Hi, Y/N.” Tilly greeted you first. She was reading a book.

“Hey, Y/N!” Mary-Beth was also reading. Karen sat on a chair next to the two singing. “You wanna sit with us for a bit? You’ve been working hard all day.”

“That’s okay, Mary-Beth. I think I should go see if Ben is doing okay with Sean and Lenny.” You looked around towards the woods.

“What’s he doing with those two fools?” Tilly put her book down in her lap. 

“Mrs. Grimshaw had him and Jack helping them with firewood.”

“Last I saw, Lenny and Sean were sitting over by the fire.”

A knot began to form in your stomach. Why hadn’t your son returned to you?

You moved to search for Lenny and Sean, but they proved to be easy to find. They were sitting at a fire with a few other gang members. 

“Excuse me, gentlemen.” You cut off Sean. “Where is Ben at?”

“Hi, Miss Y/L/N.” Lenny gave you a charming smile. “Ben and Jack went over towards John and Abigail’s tent. Jack said they were going to play.”

“Thank you, Mr. Summers.” 

***

You did indeed find your son at John and Abigail’s tent. He sat outside of it with Jack. Jack was talking about some sort of story that Hosea had told him about a bear while your little Benny just kept playing with his half of the deck of cards. 

“Y/N.”

You looked up to Abigail. 

“Hi, Abigail.”

“I hope you don’t mind that Jack brought Ben over. I know Susan had them working earlier.”

“I don’t mind.” You shook your head, smiling. You crossed your arms as you watched Ben. Jack didn’t seem to care that Ben was silent and wasn’t responding to him. Jack had learned since you both arrived at camp that talking wasn’t something Ben did, so he usually did all of the talking for Jack. You were thankful for this. In the beginning, you weren’t sure how young Jack would react to your quiet son. 

“Do you want to sit down and have a cup of coffee with me?” Abigail asked. “I don’t usually get much down time, but neither do you. You’re always running around.”

“Have to keep busy, you know.” You chuckled a little. “Coffee sounds nice.”

The both of you got your drinks and then sat down at a table not too far from the boys. 

“They grow like weeds.” She thought out loud, shaking her head softly. “I’m gonna have to get Jack some new clothes soon. He’s about to be too big for nearly all the pants he’s got. Maybe Ben could fit into what Jack can’t wear. Ben is a little thing. That way you don’t have to go out and waste money. I mean, the clothes aren’t perfect. Jack has needed them patched more than once. But they work.”

“That’s very kind of you, Abigail. Thank you.”

She gave you a smile.

“Momma! Momma!” Jack called as he ran over to Abigail. 

Ben rushed up to you, a smile on his lips. His hair fell into his face and he tried to wipe it out of his eyes but he didn’t do too good of a job.

“Hi, love.” You smiled down at him, brushing your fingers through his hair. “Are you having fun?”

He nodded, looking over to Jack. 

“Momma, can we go give Sean his cards back?”

“Where is Sean at?” Abigail asked, looking around the camp. 

“He’s just on the other side of camp at one of the other fires.” You told her, recalling where you had seen him earlier.  

“If Miss Y/L/N says that Ben can go, then yes. You can. But you have to ask her.”

Ben tugged on your skirt as if to ask you.

“Miss Y/L/N! Can we take Sean his cards?” Jack waved the stack of cards around.

“I don’t see why not.”

“I’ll race you over there!” 

You watched as Jack took off first with Ben just behind him. 

“I’m glad Jack finally has someone to play with and keep him company.” Abigail smiled. 

“They get along so well.” You nodded. “I was a little…. worried at first, if I’m honest.”

“Oh really?”

“Just because…. Well, sometimes it’s hard for Ben.”

Abigail nodded her head understandingly. 

“He’s a sweet boy, Y/N. You raised him well.”

“Thank you-,”

“You dumb little rat! Watch where you’re going next time!”

You stood up upon hearing the sound of shouting. Feeling the urge to find out what had happened, you ventured across camp until you found your son and Micah Bell. Micah had a hold of Ben’s arm and was holding him at an awkward angle. 

“When someone speaks to you, little boy, you’re supposed to answer them!”

“Micah!” You raised your voice. 

Micah turned his head to look at you but didn’t let your son’s arm go. 

Anger bubbled in your veins. 

“Ah, the whore. Maybe someone better teach this boy manners before he ends up worse than his ma.”

You pushed against Micah’s chest. Ben was crying at this point, trying to grab onto your skirt anywhere he could but Micah was finding amusement in pulling the boy away from you. 

“Micah! Get your hands off of that boy!” Abigail shouted. 

The next few moments happened all too quickly for you to know what exactly happened. But Micah released Ben and he fell backwards to the ground. Your hand flew up to smack him and you landed a nice hit on his cheek, but he was quicker than you and far more skilled in fighting so the backhand to your cheek came out of seemingly nowhere. 

You took a few steps back to keep from falling flat on your ass. You ended up hitting something solid. A hand found your side and another your arm. 

It was Arthur Morgan. He only took a couple seconds to make sure you were steady on your feet before moving around you to deliver two punches to Micah. The nasty man fell back as blood began to pour out of his nose. 

“Y/N, are you okay?” Abigail rushed to one side of you and Mary-Beth came to the other. 

You didn’t answer them. You only pushed them away to get to your son. 

Tears streamed down his cheeks as he sat in the dirt where he had fallen. 

There was a hand on your wrist that stopped you just before you could get to him. 

Arthur turned you back around to face him. You pulled against him, wanting desperately to get to your son.

“You’ve got blood on ya, pumpkin.” He murmured quietly, using his thumb to wipe away the little bit of blood from your busted lip. “He don’t need to see that.”

“Th-Thank you.” You whispered. 

“Can I pick him up? Move him somewhere else for you?”

You nodded. 

Arthur let you go and moved towards Ben. 

“Come here, Benny. You alright?”

Ben nodded his head, shyly tucking his face into Arthur’s neck.

Arthur took him to a table and sat him down on it, then pulled out a chair for you. But you couldn’t sit down just yet. You had to make sure he was okay. 

Your hands cupped his face and tilted his head up so you could check him over for any marks. 

“Are you okay, love? Does anything hurt?”

He held up his hands to you, showing that his palms were scraped up and bleeding a little. He sniffled, his bottom lip quivering. 

“I’ll get somethin’ to clean those up, Y/N.” Mary-Beth spoke, moving towards Strauss’s wagon.

Upon seeing the scratches and bleeding scrapes from Ben falling back and catching himself on his hands, anger welled up inside of Arthur. 

He turned and started to make his way towards Micah. 

“Arthur! Arthur Morgan!” Abigail called after him, but she couldn’t stop him herself. “John! Mr. Smith! Please!”

You couldn’t pay attention to what was happening with Arthur right now. Ben was important and took priority. 

You brushed his hair back and sat down in front of him. 

“I’m so sorry you got hurt, love.” You leaned forward to kiss his cheek. 

He wrapped his arms around your neck, careful not to touch you with his injured hands, and then slid down into your lap. 

A few moments later, Mary-Beth returned with a bowl of water and a few rags. Tilly was with her too, helping to carry bandages. 

“Are you alright, Benji?” Tilly asked. He nodded his head without lifting it from your chest. “He didn’t get too hurt by that nasty Micah, did he?”

“Think it just spooked him more than anything.” You answered her. “Thank you, girls.”

The items were placed on the table and then they left. 

“Ben, I need you to sit on the table so I can reach you, love.”

He shook his head. 

“We’ve got to get these scratches cleaned up, okay? We don’t want them to get yucky.”

A hand found your shoulder. You looked to see Arthur moving around your chair. 

“Lemme give ya some help. That way Benny can stay on your lap where he’s comfortable.”

You nodded your head, giving him a little smile as a thank you. 

“Hey, Benny? Can I see your hands?”

Benny shifted around on your lap so that he could easily face Arthur. He gave Arthur one hand. 

“This might sting just a bit, but I promise it’ll be over soon.” 

Arthur got a rag wet and began to clean the dirt and little bit of blood from Ben’s small palm. 

“You’re a strong fella, Benny. You know that?”

Ben sniffled. 

“I heard you helped Sean and Lenny with getting firewood. Did you carry all the big logs by yourself?”

A little grin tugged at your son’s lips. He shook his head. 

Once he was cleaned up and Arthur had carefully wrapped up his hands, Ben looked around for Jack. He was with Hosea. The two weren’t very far away at all. Ben shimmied down from your lap but stayed by you. His eyes were focused on Jack. He wanted to go play with his friend. 

“You can go on, love.” You told him. He flashed you a little toothy smile before taking off in the direction of Hosea and Jack. 

Arthur stayed on his knees beside you for a few moments, watching Ben go. He let out a breath through his nose and shook his head. 

“That bastard is lucky I don’t put a bullet in him.” He rose to his feet, shaking his head. 

“Ben is okay, Arthur.” You turned your head to look at him. “He just…. He was just shaken up a bit. But he’s okay.”

“He hit you too. No man should ever treat a lady like that.” 

You admired his words, the way he viewed things. 

A little smile came to your lips and you watched him sit down next to you. 

“Well, Mr. Morgan. Not everyone has the same ideals as you.”

Arthur shook his head, fingers curling into a fist. He was still worked up over the situation. 

“It’ll be okay, Arthur.” You reached over to place your hand on his. “I can take a hit just fine. But I do appreciate you stepping in. It was really kind of you to help clean up Ben.”

He became a bit sheepish at your words, tipping his head down so you couldn’t see his eyes completely thanks to the brim of his hat. He cleared his throat. 

“Just-Just hate seein’ the little guy cry is all.”

You smiled a bit and gave his hand a squeeze before moving away from the table he sat at. 

Arthur watched you leave, then turned his head to watch the two youngest members of the gang with Hosea. Hosea was telling a story while Jack and Ben listened. 

Arthur turned his head back to see where you had gone off to. You were standing with Abigail near Pearson’s tent. Abigail said something that caused you to look at Arthur, a smile pulling at your lips then you looked back at her, shaking your head and bringing your hand up to cover your mouth. It was a poor attempt to hide a giggle. 

Arthur fixed the hat on his head and decided to go towards his horse. 

“When are you gonna tell her?” Charles spoke from his horse. He was messing with a strap of Taima’s saddle. 

“Tell her what?”

Charles rolled his eyes and shook his head. 

“I’m not oblivious to it, Arthur. I don’t think any of us in camp are.”

“To what?”

“That you fancy her.”

Arthur mounted his horse, shifting around in the saddle a bit.

“I don’t know what you are talking about, Mr. Smith.” He adjusted his hat. 

“Yeah, I’m sure you don’t.”

“You wanna come with me? Or keep standing there goin’ on about it?”

Taglist: @winterwolf @lauramb7 @caraqas @bluscryn @krenee1drful @zodiacaldust @nonodino @cal-lifornication @thefirelordm @sargeantsea @sokkasdarling @thecollection @mayday1284 @kashasenpai @misskrql @brooke-supernatural16 @lassiee @hocdolliday @micahs-bird 

If your name is in italics, it wouldn’t let me tag you :(

[bbyannabeth]

a different kind of fireworks

The universe was playing a joke on Annabeth. A big fucking joke.

They had one hour until the new year and she’d gone out with Piper to a party her friend had been invited to. And now, in the midst of that party, she was face to face with her ex. Well, maybe not face to face, seeing as he was across the room. But they had definitely just locked eyes and she suddenly felt nauseous.

If it was anyone else, even any other ex of hers, she would be fine right now. But it wasn’t just anyone, it was Percy. They’d broken up only three months ago and god, her thoughts in those months consisted of him almost every day. And now he was walking towards her. Annabeth kind of wished she’d stayed home.

“Hey,” he said carefully when he reached her, a tight smile on his face. “I’m a little surprised to see you here. I didn’t- I mean it’s not really your scene.”

For a brief second, Annabeth wasn’t sure her voice was going to work because it seemed as though it was caught in her throat. She straightened her back and squared her shoulders, forcing out a, “Yeah, Piper was invited and I thought it might be a good change of pace.”

Clearly, she was wrong.

Percy nodded. “How have you been?”

Sad. Alone. Miserable. I miss you so fucking much.

“Not bad,” she settled on. “I just got promoted at work.”

He smiled genuinely for the first time. “Oh shit, that’s great,” he said. Annabeth decided not to mention that it was only because she had thrown herself into work to distract her from their breakup.

She returned the smile, a bit softer than his, and nodded. “Thank you, yeah. What about you?”

She didn’t want to know if she was being honest. She didn’t want to know how great he was doing without her, but it would’ve been impolite to not ask.

He grimaced slightly and took a drink of the beer in his hand. “Um,” he said, shrugging lightly. “I’ve been better.”

Oh, Annabeth thought. She hadn’t expected that. She also hadn’t expected the wistful look in his eye.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” she said, hoping she sounded genuine. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed movement and Annabeth saw Piper, waving at her frantically. She nodded once and looked back at Percy. “Piper needs me over there, sorry. It was nice to see you, Perce.”

The nickname came out so easily and she forced herself not to focus on it as he said, “Yeah, of course. You too.”

She gave him a gentle smile and quickly veered off to where Piper was waiting impatiently. “Um, hello?” she said as soon as Annabeth was close. “I leave you alone for two minutes and you’re talking to your ex?”

“Yeah, uh,” Annabeth said, suppressing the urge to look at him again. “We made eye contact and it would’ve been a bit weird to just ignore each other completely, I guess.”

“Mhmm,” her friend hummed. “So… what happened?”

“Nothing. Although I asked how he was and he said he’s been better and he looked kind of sad about it and I don’t know what to do with that information.”

Piper blinked. “Oh,” she said.

Annabeth looked down at her friend, who was now avoiding her eyes. “What?”

“Nothing, I just…” Piper said, frowning. “I didn’t think he was gonna tell you that.”

It took a few seconds before it clicked in Annabeth’s head. “You knew he wasn’t doing well?”

“He told Jason, Jason told me!”

“Okay, so why didn’t you tell me?”

Piper’s shoulder’s slumped. “Beth, you guys broke up. I didn’t want you thinking or worrying about him. More than you probably already were.”

Any anger in Annabeth deflated because she knew Piper was right. “Yeah, okay,” she conceded. “Sorry.”

“Why don’t you talk to him more? Maybe you guys could… I don’t know, start over?” Piper said carefully but Annabeth was already shaking her head.

“I don’t know. I don’t think he’d even want that.”

Annabeth risked a glance at him and he was deep in conversation with a boy she didn’t recognize. His head turned and the second their eyes met, she snapped her gaze away. “I need another drink,” she said.

Piper chuckled and nodded. “Yeah, I can tell.”

Leaving it at that, Annabeth turned towards the kitchen of the house they were in and quickly made her way through the crowd. She quickly refilled her cup with one of the mixed drinks on the counter.

30 minutes until midnight and Annabeth made her way to the bathroom, the only place she could easily avoid Piper and Percy, and anyone else who decided to speak to her. Locking the door behind her, she set her drink on the counter and took a deep breath. It was fine. She was fine. Really, she just needed a second alone to collect herself, and then she could pretend like nothing had ever happened, and then she would be fine.

Except that plan only worked for about 25 more minutes.

After leaving the bathroom, she found Hazel and chatted with her for a while. For a brief moment, she had actually forgotten about Percy and the sad look in his eye. And then Hazel went off to use the bathroom and within seconds, there was a gentle hand on her wrist. She turned and was met with green eyes she was all too familiar with.

“Can I talk to you?”

Annabeth blinked. Every part of her screamed at her to say no, but she could never deny him anything. “Yeah,” she said, nodding. She let him lead her out to the deck, which wasn’t much less crowded but at least she didn’t feel like she was gonna suffocate out here.

Cutting right to the chase, he said, “I think we made a mistake.”

She stared at him and he took that as a sign to continue.

“The day you left, the day I… I told you to leave. We made a mistake.”

Piper’s words from earlier echoed in her head. Maybe you guys could start over. And at the time, Annabeth thought that was impossible. But maybe… it wasn’t.

“I know,” she agreed softly. “I’ve thought that every day since then.”

“You never said anything?” he asked.

Annabeth let out a quiet laugh. “You seemed pretty adamant about your decision when you told me to leave. Didn’t think there was a point in calling after that.”

Percy averted his eyes. “Fair enough,” he muttered. They were silent for a heavy minute before he spoke again. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have told you to leave.”

“I shouldn’t have left,” she said, taking a tiny step closer to him. “I’m sorry too.”

For a moment, he studied her. His mouth opened, ready to speak when someone inside yelled, “One minute!” followed by loud cheers.

Once it was quiet again, he said in a rush, “I want to get back together.”

Annabeth blinked. She hadn’t expected him to put it so bluntly. “Really?”

Nodding, he stepped closer, putting only a foot of space between them. “I miss you so much and I just… I don’t think we should’ve broken up. You were my best friend, Beth.”

She tried to fight it, but a slow smile grew on Annabeth’s face. “I miss you too,” she said. She moved forward again so that their toes touched. “And-”

Cut off by more cheers, Annabeth realized there were thirty seconds to midnight and someone must’ve just announced the time. “And I think so, too. That we should get back together, I mean.”

“Yeah?” he asked. She wasn’t sure, but Annabeth thought she saw relief flood across his features.

“Yeah,” she said, moving her hand up and resting it on his side. She was distantly aware of everyone counting down from ten.

“Oh, thank god,” he breathed, letting out a soft laugh. Annabeth smiled up at him and with only five seconds left, she’d expected him to wait until midnight, but instead, he cupped her cheek and pulled her into a kiss. Returning it eagerly, she slid her hand to the small of his back, pulling him closer. Fireworks went off somewhere, telling her it was midnight, and Annabeth felt as though they were really fitting for the moment.

God, she’d missed this. He fit her perfectly, the same he always had. There was the faint taste of beer and him, something wonderfully familiar. When he pulled back, it was with a quiet, “I love you.” Annabeth all but melted against him.

“I love you, too,” she replied.

[hypermania]

So how are we feeling about that brio angst?

well. i do love angst. the angstier the better. but to be perfectly honest i did not enjoy that episode at all. it didn’t feel like angst to me. it felt like a non-sensical destruction of 4x06 and 4x07. i don’t understand what the point of putting so much emphasis on the scene of beth making a choice outside of the bank was if she didn’t actually choose anything?? i know we didn’t see her actually make a choice but the implication was that she did. 

last night i was telling someone that my issue with what happened in this episode is similar to what happened in 2x13. beth’s reactions (shooting rio/turning rio over to the secret service) to rio’s actions (kidnapping beth/threatening her family and kids) make sense to me but rio’s actions make no sense at all! it’s bad writing! his actions come out of nowhere. and it makes him look like a freaking lunatic (and consequently beth like a callous b*tch who doesn’t care about him at all).

but with 2x13 i feel like they did a LOT to show how much it affected beth. she came home and broke down immediately and then season 3 opened with her so very clearly struggling with what she did, and she continued to struggle with that. then, we watched for the rest of the season, and even into season 4, as they struggled to get back on to some sort of even footing, and while i did not enjoy the execution of the hitman plot, i do feel like it accomplished that goal. beth and rio were equal threats to each other, both personally and professionally. they were in a good place to move forward with a new dynamic.

and then 4x06 and 4x07 happened and they were so good?? rio finally let beth in a little bit! beth was feeling guilty! they were revisiting their feelings for each other! they were feeling protective of each other! they were finally fucking honest with each other! it was good! it was so good! we were getting somewhere!

and then 4x08 came and was like FUCK YOU NONE OF THAT HAPPENED! and i just?? why? what was the point of doing any of that??

see, the thing is that i don’t think rio would actually physically harm any of beth’s family apart from dean (and maybe stan i guess) so those threats fall flat AND they come out of nowhere. beth and rio are supposed to be on the same side now. rio keeps asking beth to choose him but he doesn’t give her any reason to?? it makes no damn sense (and it doesn’t even compel me!). he doesn’t say “this is what WE’RE gonna do” or “here’s the plan” or “here’s how we’re gonna get out of this.” he tells her to choose him and then hangs her out to dry completely. choosing him seems to mean fucking herself over and that makes no sense!!! why on earth would she choose that?? like at this point it doesn’t even feel like she’s betraying him because he keeps telling her to pick him and then giving her zero reason to do that or even a way to do that. he says pick me. she supposedly does. and then he threatens her livelihood and her family but doesn’t give her any alternative. it makes NO SENSE!! this isn’t season 1 where he’s saying if you want to do crime, you have to actually DO the crime (which was fair! he was right! that struggle made sense!). now he’s just saying “yeah um you should... do... something...” but like WHAT IS THAT SOMETHING SUPPOSED TO BE??? tell her what to do that isn’t screwing herself and her family over and she’ll do it???? I AM PULLING MY HAIR OUT IN FRUSTRATION OVER THIS!! and i’m not actually holding this against rio. i think this is just terrible writing meant to continue to cause conflict but it’s not working because the conflict makes no sense anymore. she chose crime! she committed to it! but somehow it’s the same conflict over and over and over again. it’s stagnant. the only growth we see is that beth is a little less conflicted about screwing him over, and she holds her chin high this time, which, okay fine. if that’s the direction they want to take the show, fine! but then actually take it that way! don’t have rio there waiting for her like “oh my beautiful crime princess now we can rule the world... together!” WHAT??? 

that’s not angst. it’s just stupid. and it’s hella frustrating because i feel like it could’ve been very easily fixed with a few minor adjustments like a reveal at the end that beth was in on it from the beginning. or that she chose him and they made a plan to do something but somehow the secret service were one step ahead and they cornered her in a way that made it so that she really did have no choice. anything but this dumb situation where he just expects her to sacrifice everything for him with nothing in return and then STILL comes crawling back to her after she “betrays” him again. i hate it! i hate it! i hate it!

somewhat related: i’m also having a really hard time with their legal logic this season in a way that is disruptive for me. was it realistic before this season? no. but i could follow the magical tv logic. but now? i don’t know what’s going on! if dean pled guilty, what the fuck would there be a trial for?? he would be sentenced and that would be that. there would be no getting out on bail. why the fuck did they say he pled guilty instead of confessed?!? that’s such a dumb mistake! and it left me confused for several episodes!

and how in the great big dandy fuck does a city councilman have ANY SWAY WHATSOEVER over a federal investigation involving the secret service?? and what do the secret service want with rio anyway? the girls were the ones printing AND laundering the cash. rio’s gang affiliations or what-the-fuck-ever don’t matter!!

AND once they decided he did matter, i thought the whole point was to find out where the money goes?? so how does him sitting on a picnic bench and opening a box of fake cash (not even taking it and getting in his car!) give the secret service anything??? what was the point of spending several episodes trying to get beth to get more information about his operation if all it was gonna take was him looking like he was going to accept that money?? WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON ITS SO FRUSTRATING NOTHING MAKES SENSE.

okay. i think i’m done ranting. and since we here at hypermania dot tumblr dot gov value positivity i would just like to say that i very much enjoyed annie’s little nugget of knowledge about occam’s razor. she’s a gem and we’re so happy to have her here.

[blackfemmecharacterdependency]

We’re Not Friends 10

Yolanda?

There were few things more alienating than the entire student body blending you into the backdrop of each of their individual and collective lives… but the one thing that hurt Beth Chapel far more than that was her parents doing so. Even more than that was her mother telling her that she needed to back off. Her mother was more guilty of this than her father was, but she knew that was mostly because of the fact that her father was so frequently so far away. It was unfair to place more blame on her mom simply because she was more accessible… but she was also more honest, which meant more hurtful.. To Beth. And she had had a very hurtful time as of late!

It started with the talent show… well, the day OF the talent show. The day started out just fine, great even. She had all of her glasses prepared for her entry and knew that she was going to do extremely well.

She knew that she would lose, but it was all a part of the fun to share her talent and experience the talents of others. She and Joey were going to sit together. He had new magic tricks. It was supposed to be a blast.

Instead, anybody who was paying any attention to her performance at all was either too confused to know the amount of nuance that went into water glass resonance to be impressed, or bored for the same reason. This was science. This was finely honed conditioning! They just stared at her, or had side conversations. It didn’t mar her smile. It didn’t ruin her day. It didn’t change her life for the worse…

That happened afterwards.

She wasn’t a hater. Cindy and Jenny were very good dancers and they did in fact plot out different choreography each time. She could appreciate their performance without feeling that they should win… And she didn’t feel like they should have won. She felt like Joey should have won. They were discussing that on the bus whenever one of the most terrifying things ever to have happened to her happened to her. She hardly had a chance to recover from the randomness of nearly dying, somehow not doing so, and just getting her bearings whenever the worst thing that she could remember happened.  

Beth was doing what she did best, talking about this thing that just happened. She was trying to get out the details and get in some information of what happened. It was fast and confusing and she needed answers and needed to talk about it… And only a few feet away, Joey was killed.

She just wanted to sink into her mom and cry about it, or tell her dad everything and him make her laugh. Instead… they gave her apologetic statements and just… continued on with things, as they had been. Her father didn’t even spend a single day off to see if she was okay, and whenever she met her mother at work for dinner, she told her flat out, “No. More.”

Beth was feeling some type of way. It would have been easy to get into her own mind, but whenever she heard voices that were familiar, yet not hers, she was distracted and looked up to see two superheroes, scaling the building at her mom’s job… well… one was climbing and the other was flying on some type of huge glowstick… A blond with curls and a brunette with claws… and one of them said, “Yolanda.”

“Yolanda?” At first, she wanted to rationalize that this couldn’t be the same Yolanda that sat with her for 3 months, being moody and keeping to herself. This couldn’t be the same Yolanda who never defended herself or told her bullies off was… a… superhero? Was that even correct? WERE they superheroes?

They were definitely dressed as such, but that wouldn’t explain why they were on the side of her mother’s place of business, and if they were superheroes, what was their creed? What was their mission? Did they only operate in town, or were they secretly worldwide and she just never knew it?

Did Courtney COME to Blue Valley to take on an assignment and recruit Yolanda along the way, or was there some type of new uprising being formed for the safety and protection of all mankind, right there, in front of her face?

…And were they hiring?

.

Beth went home quickly. She would have tried to follow them, but she had searched around the building and didn’t see when they got down or where they went. She spent the rest of the night hatching a plan. She had to have herself some passion flower tea just to calm down enough to get to proper sleep.

But the next day, she would be ready. She would monitor her lunch mates to confirm that they were up to hero antics, she would pay Courtney a visit, confront her and get her to confess, and she would find a way to get on the team!

Blue Valley was in need of heroes to help keep the town safe. Maybe if there were heroes, someone could have swooped in to save poor Joey, to keep his family from falling apart the way they did when he was so abruptly taken away from them.

It was really sad, too. Because the driver felt so guilty, despite it being an accident. How could a person live with themselves after such a horrible mistake? That had to be tough. Blue Valley deserved to feel safe, to be protected. She knew that new girl was special! She knew it from the moment she stepped in to help Yolanda. Beth hadn’t been brave enough to stand up to Henry properly, but maybe with a team and a costume, she could rise to the challenge and not be so afraid to help others. She envisioned herself as a hero until she fell asleep. Whenever she woke up, she envisioned herself as a hero. It was settled. This was her new goal in life.

When she got to school, she did her monitoring, as planned and it didn’t take her long to confirm from their weird conversation that she had been correct. Courtney and Yolanda were superheroes! AND… They were trying to form a team! SHE had a chance to be a superhero!

Only, it wouldn’t be appropriate to bring it up at school, despite the fact that Courtney and Yolanda were speaking about it in plain sight and Beth didn’t have any trouble hearing them discuss these things at all. She had a feeling that it would cause panic if she brought it up, herself. This would be better discussed somewhere that Courtney felt comfortable. Maybe at her house. That would show her that Beth was willing to step into her world and offer her services in a way that was genuine.

Beth took a trip to the administrative office and charmed one of the office aides into letting her use the records computer. Some lie about wanting to grab an address for an upcoming hometown hero surprise, and since she was trustworthy Beth Chapel, they let her in and she programmed Courtney’s home address into her phone. It would probably be more accurate to say that she annoyed her fellow student into allowing her this privilege, but she liked the term “charmed” better.

At lunch, Courtney and Yolanda had somewhere to be, she presumed, because they weren’t at the table with her and Rick. In fact, it took a lot out of Beth not to start blabbing to Rick about their table mates! He was in a bad mood. She noticed that his knuckles were busted and it almost ruined her day. She wondered if he’d punched another wall or something, and worried if it was a person this time. He noticed her looking at his hand and he glared at her as he removed it from the table and tucked it in his lap, where he twiddled his thumbs.

He had a lot on his mind. He didn’t need Beth’s shit today. It was sort of refreshing to be at the table with just her today, even if he was worrying about if he could get enough money to get another carburetor… or if there would even be one available for his car. Wasn’t like they were just sitting around. It had taken him months to be able to hunt one down that he could even afford. Nobody infuriated him the way that his uncle infuriated him. Not even Beth and her weirdly bright smile and staring eyes. “What?” He finally asked, clearly not in the spirit of friendship.

“So, you know that girl, Courtney?” He shook his head and shrugged his shoulders. “The one that sits with us now. The new girl…”

“I’ve seen her like twice. I don’t know anything about her,” he snapped.

Beth nodded her head. She could take a hint. “Well… She’s pretty cool. That’s all I’ll say…” Rick resigned his head to the table and Beth’s smile died down a little. “Do you need to see the nurse? I can escort you...”

“Please leave me alone, Beth,” Rick groaned.

“Okay,” she quickly agreed, and gathered her things to do just that. Not like she needed him distracting her from her mission, anyway.

He groaned again. Dammit, Beth. Not “leave me alone,” but leave me alone. Why was that so hard to get? His phone buzzed and he checked it, head still on the table.

An Unknown Number sent him a text: We need 3Ks for tonight. Are you able?

Rick sat up erect and immediately replied: Where and what time?

The journey to Courtney’s house was a nice walk. Beth enjoyed walking around Blue Valley and taking in the parts of town that she wasn’t as used to. She knew information about each neighborhood, as her dad was pretty vocal about most of the areas in town. As a salesman, you tend to take an interest in people and learn about them. That helps you to know how to reach them and offer them the product or services that they might need.

Most of Blue Valley was nice neighborhoods and business that were very wholesome and “down home.” Beth had never seen a portion of Blue Valley that she didn’t love. Passing by the Halloween decorations of houses and seeing a few kids already in costume playing outside, excited about the candy to come made her nostalgic for her childhood Halloweens. She would have been a little bit sad that she could no longer dress up and go around with her parents if she wasn’t so focused on talking to Courtney. It surprised her that she beat the girl home, but she definitely didn’t mind waiting. Her mom seemed nice enough and she knew that the lady worked with her dad, so she felt almost like they knew each other already. Pleasant neighbors, at least. Fingers crossed for soon to be teammates.

Whenever she collected the goggles from Buddy, she felt something. Disgust, first. They were covered in dog drool, but there was something going on with these things. There was a green glow and while it wasn’t particularly sanitary, and maybe not her business… She put them on.

And her life was transformed.

[reciprocityfic]

passing afternoons

title: passing afternoons fandom: little women pairing: theodore laurence x amy march  rating: m summary: “did you have any dalliances after me?” she asks.

he blinks hard as his brain reels for a moment, as he struggles to comprehend what she’s saying. after her? there is no after her. there never will be.

then, he stops. thinks. she means...oh. oh.

she means after that time in the garden, in paris. when he’d first revealed his feelings for her, and she’d rejected him. left him standing there alone and feeling like an utter, hopeless idiot.

oh.

(laurie and amy spend a late summer afternoon talking about the past.)

author’s note: i've literally shipped laurie and amy since like fourth grade. so when i saw little women (2019) and found out it did my bbs justice, i basically cried. i've been meaning to write fic ever since, but alas, here we are almost a year later. i hope you enjoy it anyways.

i have another fic in the works that's longer and definitely more angsty, which i hope to post relatively soon. i also hope to write more fluff (also maybe smut???) for them in the coming months bc GOD i just love imagining these two together. in the meantime, i hope you enjoyed this!

xoxo, rebekah

passing afternoons

They enjoy being lazy after sex.

They’re not always afforded the opportunity, of course.  At night, they tend to fall asleep rather quickly afterwards, exhausted and sated and tangled together.  And the occasional forbidden interlude - when they’re some party or gathering wholly bland or pretentious and the two of them (sometimes tipsy, sometimes bored, always and perpetually desperate for each other) run off to some dark corner or isolated room where he lifts the skirt of her dress and the too-many layers underneath and uses his body to press hers against the wall as he sinks into her from behind and they pray their moans and the sounds of their bodies together won’t be heard - must be short and altogether swift, no time to dwell in the aura of the sensations and feelings between them.

But then, there are days when Grandfather is occupied with the business and the Marches are busy and they dismiss the servants.  It’s just the two of them in their grand house with time that seems to stretch on and on.  Sometimes they’ll make it a game of sorts, shamelessly flirt and tempt each other to see who will break first, but oftentimes they’ll share a look and a smile and then they’re off in a race to their horizontal surface of choice.

Today is one of those days, when they’ve nowhere to be, nothing to do, and are all alone.  It’s an unusually hot day in late September, and when Amy had complained about the warmth, he’d suggested she take her blouse off.  She’d raised an eyebrow and told him to go first, and then one thing led to another and now they’re naked and sore and satisfied, laying on their bed as the early afternoon sun shines in through their open windows.

He lays on top of the sheets on his back, head at the foot of the bed and hands on his stomach, staring up at the ceiling and trying to find imaginary patterns in swirling paint.  She lays parallel to him, but leans against the headboard, her long blonde hair falling around her face as she sketches him.  He hadn’t seen her take out the pad and pencil she keeps in the dresser near their bed, but he can hear the sound of graphite moving against paper as she draws.  He grins as he imagines her face, lips pursed and brow furrowed, wide green eyes focused and the movement of her hand knowing nothing but purpose even with the most casual of sketches.

They do not touch and do not talk.  Still, the intimacy of the situation - of being together and completely safe and comfortable with the person you love most in the world - is overwhelming.  Its warmth cocoons him, and he feels his eyes getting heavy as he lies there, a breeze blowing in from the open window and caressing his skin.

“You had your many dalliances after Jo, yes?”

His eyes snap open when he hears her question, his stomach lurching slightly and his mood dampening.

He ran away to Europe and drowned himself in alcohol, drugs, and women after Jo broke his heart, and he admits this.  Amy knows it, too.  And it’s not that he’s ashamed of that period of time, exactly - while he wishes he had, indeed, bore it better, he finds himself sympathetic to the plight of people scorned by love, however misguided that love might be.

He just doesn’t often talk about it.  Doesn’t like to.  In his mind and in his heart, it is only Amy.  Has always been, and always will be.

Amy doesn’t really like to talk about it, either.  He finds her inquiry curious, but answers anyway.

“Yes,” he tells her, although the word comes out sounding more like a question than an answer.

He waits for her to explain her line of thought, but she simply hums to herself.  He stares at the ceiling a moment longer, then leans up, resting his weight on his elbows.

She’s staring down at her drawing, her face just as he pictured it, pencil grasped between her lips as she swipes her thumb against the paper.  He watches as she takes the pencil out of her mouth and starts at it again, and he watches her for nearly a minute before opening his mouth to speak.

She beats him to it, though.

“Did you have any dalliances after me?” she asks.

He blinks hard as his brain reels for a moment, as he struggles to comprehend what she’s saying.  After her?  There is no after her.  There never will be.

Then, he stops.  Thinks.  She means...oh.  Oh.

She means after that time in the garden, in Paris.  When he’d first revealed his feelings for her, and she’d rejected him.  Left him standing there alone and feeling like an utter, hopeless idiot.

Oh.

He shifts on the bed, drops his eyes from her face.  He can feel his skin begin to flush from embarrassment.

They’ve never talked about this before.

Not that there’s much to talk about, he supposes.  He still hesitates to tell her - not because he fears she’ll be angry with him, but because he doesn’t like to talk about it.  If it were up to him, he would erase from his mind the memory of every woman he’d ever been with until only his wife remained.

But she’s asked, and he’ll be honest with her.

“One, I suppose,” he murmurs.

“You suppose?” she questions.  She’s still staring down at her artwork, but her pencil doesn’t move.

“Sort of, yes,” he confirms.

She finally looks at him, her eyebrows pulled together and a frown on her face.

“How do you sort of have a dalliance?”

She looks genuinely confused, and he laughs lightly at the crease between her brows, sits up fully and reaches out to her.  He cups her face and uses his thumb to rub at the wrinkle of skin.

“Shall I explain?” he asks her.

She nods.

“I...tried to be angry after you left.  Just think - to be turned down by not just one, but two March girls!” he gasps playfully, and she snickers, pushing against his shoulder playfully before dropping her hand to run over the sparse hair on his chest.

“But?” she prompts.

"But I couldn’t make myself angry.  Not at you.  But I also knew I couldn’t just stay there in France and watch you and Fred Vaughn…”

He makes a noise in the back of his throat, and she rolls her eyes playfully.

“We’re speaking of all your affairs, and you want to tease about Fred?”

“It’s part of my story!” he insists with a wink, and she rolls her eyes again.

“Well, keep telling it.”

He smiles, and continues.

“I couldn’t stay, so I did what you told me to.  I went to London, as you know.  And when I first got there, there was a woman staying at the same hotel as I was.  We got to talking one evening at dinner, and one thing…”

He trails off, feeling himself flush again.

“...led to another,” Amy finishes.  “I understand.  I don’t need the details.”

She’s frowning now, even though her fingers still run over his chest, and he despises it.  He has half a mind to drop the subject, to kiss her lips and make her happy and forget life before, but he can’t.

“Wait, I’m not done.”

“Laurie, I don’t need to hear any more.  You had your dalliance, I’m not upset, and we can stop - “

“I couldn’t do it,” he interrupts.  “It didn’t work.”

She pulls back from him slightly, her eyes wide and curious.  She looks down his body.

“You mean you couldn’t...?”

He follows her gaze, and then snorts.

“Not like that.  It - it didn’t even get to that.  Amy, my dear.”

He lifts her chin, and she gazes at him.  He can tell she’s still confused.

“Every time I closed my eyes,” he explains, “I saw you - the face you made in the garden before you turned away and left.  It broke my heart.  It still breaks my heart.  And when my eyes were open, all I could think about was how her skin wasn’t as soft and her hair wasn’t as fair and her eyes were brown instead of green and she just...wasn’t you.”

“But with Jo...”

“It was different with Jo.  I could make Jo into anyone.  I could always pick out the tiniest thing that reminded me of her, in any woman, and then pretend that woman was her.  I couldn’t...do that with you.  Or maybe I didn’t want to.  In any case, being with that woman didn’t make me forget.  She made me remember all the more.  And I only kissed her for about a minute before I realized it was worthless.”

He stops and grabs one of her hands, brings it to his mouth so he can kiss her fingertips, before holding it over his heart.

“And that’s when I knew that this was different.  You weren’t Jo, and I wasn’t going to be able to just...drink and fuck you away.”

She’d normally gasp and swat him playfully for his use of the coarse word, but now she stays silent and presses her hand more firmly against his chest.

“I was in love with you.  Hopelessly and completely.  And I realized that all I could do was stay in London and toil away and... pray that somehow you would change your mind.”

Then, everything had changed.  Beth died, and then he knew he had to be with her.  It didn’t matter if she despised him, or if Fred was there.  He needed to be with her.  But before that, he had been rather resigned to his fate - to work for his grandfather and forever pine after Amy March.

God had smiled upon him, though.  And now, here he sits with his wife, Amy Laurence.  Married, in love, and happy.

“So does that explain how one can have a single, sort-of dalliance?” he asks her.

But she stares at him, eyes shining, almost with tears.

“You were going to wait your whole life for me?” she whispers.

He smirks slightly, turning away from her and shrugging, somehow embarrassed.  But she grabs his face, turns it back to her, and locks their gazes.

“What else would you have me do, my lady?”

“Oh, my lord,” she breathes, and kisses him deeply, until his toes curl and he can feel himself begin to harden once again.  When she pulls away, they’re both panting.  He wants to grab her, to gather her up in his arms again, but her pad and pencil remains between them.

He motions to the picture.

“Still working on that, Raphaella?”

“Maybe later,” she remarks, taking the paper and all but throwing it on the floor beside the bed.  She pushes him back so he’s laying once again, and climbs on top of him, straddling his waist.  “I have another idea how we can pass time this afternoon.”

She leans down and kisses his smiling mouth.

Yes, God had smiled upon him.  Had given him back his love.  And he’s married, in love, and happy.

Achingly happy.

[coldmorte]

Hey! I really really like your blog and all the Dutch content, and I read your posts on Molly and Dutch and I just felt like sharing my thoughts :) If you don’t feel like it, just ignore this

I like Molly, even though I agree that she’s very much a snob and very paranoid at times.

It’s always felt very clear to me that Molly really, truly loves Dutch. And love makes you do stupid, desperate things (just look at Arthur).

Molly’s interaction with Abigail is about Dutch’s love for Molly, not the other way around. It’s Abigail saying that Dutch doesn’t love her and Molly lashing out (probably to protect herself from the truth).

This is brought up again in An Honest Mistake, when she talks to Arthur about Dutch, questioning how Dutch seems to him. When Molly says, “I really love him, you know,” Arthur averts his eyes and doesn’t look at her. I’ve always seen this as Arthur knowing Dutch doesn’t love her in the way Molly wants him to, if he loves her at all.

I’ve always seen Dutch as being kind of ahead of his time when it comes to certain progressive ideas (especially as it pertains to race), but when it comes to women, he’s very much a product of his his time. The way he talks about them and to/at them, whether it’s Molly or Abigail or Mary-Beth or Sadie, is often either dismissive or condescending.

While he doesn’t outright say it, the way he acts around the women at camp has always left me feeling like he prefers women (at least the ones he takes an actual interest in) to fit into the roles society has carved out for them; they have to be beautiful and docile and romantic-minded for him to take an interest.

You’ve said yourself, that Dutch deals with a lot of self doubt and that stems from wanting to be seen as a great and powerful man, who the people in camp can look up to, and women (especially young women) were (and to some degree stil is) seen as symbols of status. Molly is a beautiful woman from a wealthy family; she could have anyone she wanted, and she chose Dutch and ran away with him, leaving her old life behind – that’s the ultimate powermove on Dutch’s part.

I’ve always thought of Dutch as a romantic, the way he talks about love and how it’s the one thing worth living for, and I believe that he may have at some point actually loved Molly or at least convinced himself that he did, but the second he grows tired of her and realises that he doesn’t actually love her, he’s moving on to another, younger woman.

His inner romantic and his ego and need to be perceived as powerful are at odds with each other, and as the game progresses we see how his romantic and kind side wilt under the weight and pressure of his responsibilities as a leader and his need to be perceived as powerful and a great leader.

Those are my thoughts at least :)

Hello!

Thank you for the ask and the kind words! That really does mean a lot!! 💜💜💜

I am very grateful for your message, and no!!!! I don’t want to ignore it!! That wouldn’t be very fair of me, as I feel like you bring up some good points to discuss. Also, I appreciate the respect in your message and for taking the time to write so much out! I’d be happy to give you some of my time in return 🥰

(Warning: SPOILERS below)

I’m going to take your points one at a time here. So, starting with liking Molly, it’s totally fine! I don’t want to be too negative on my blog, and I don’t want people to feel like they have to think the same way I do. That wouldn’t be any fun, so it does make me happy that you can enjoy her character. I don’t want to take that away from you!! By all means, love her to your heart's content!!! ❤️

Furthermore, though I don’t personally like Molly, I don’t think she was a truly bad person. Just like every other character in the game, she had flaws and made mistakes. I primarily wish I could have gotten to know her better because she was presented during a very dark time in her life. I feel like this affected my perception of her, and I might have seen her differently, if I had gotten the chance to interact more with her character (especially outside of the RDR2 timeframe). Everybody deserves not only to love somebody, but everybody also deserves to have faith that the person they love can truthfully say the same back to them. I felt bad that Molly died such an unhappy, loveless death.

About the love Molly had for Dutch, I agree that she loved him. My point in bringing up infatuation was to primarily highlight the reason and the degree to which she honestly loved him. Did Molly love Dutch for the man he was, or for the idea of the man he was? Maybe, it was a mix? I am not sure there is enough information to give a conclusive answer to this (as I somewhat mentioned before).

To be fair, the same thing could (and should) be asked of Dutch. Did he truly love her, or did he just love the idea of having her at his side? Again, it would be fascinating to see the early part of their relationship. It would answer a LOT of questions. You mention that Dutch arguably saw Molly as a symbol of status, and I agree that it was very plausible. I think, to some degree, both Molly and Dutch saw each other as being favorable for what they represented, unfortunately.

In regard to the interaction between Molly and Abigail, I realize my response was unclear about this (that’s my bad). I'll try to write it better here, but this is really complicated to put into words! I'll do my best!!

What I said was that Molly got angry at people she “perceived” as challenging her love (this was subjective to her POV and not necessarily reflective of true reality). My original answer was not objective (nor was it meant to be - I was trying to write this part from her POV), and there are a few layers I want to analyze here. First of all, from an objective perspective, you are correct. The conversation between them was ultimately about Dutch not loving Molly the way she wanted to be loved. However, the first thing Molly did was state to Abigail that she loved Dutch. If she didn’t see this point as being in question, why did she feel the need to immediately justify it before saying anything else? To me, it seemed like she needed to actively prove that she loved him to others.

This was also seen with Karen and Arthur. The conversations with Karen were confusing because they didn’t have much context, but perhaps, that was the point - to show the extent of Molly’s paranoia (in other words, that there was no context and that she was imagining Karen to be against her out of insecurity). Molly continually complained that Karen said bad things about her, and she insisted that she not only loved Dutch, but that he loved her as well. Then, as you mention, Molly emphasized to Arthur that SHE loved Dutch (it was not directly about his love for her). Again, by constantly having to profess her feelings, it was as if she thought people were doubting her on some level.

But here is where the contradiction comes in - I believe that Molly was smart enough to know that this doubting wasn't entirely genuine. She knew it was never really her love that she should have been concerned about. Although, by focusing on herself, it was a way to deflect from her insecurity regarding Dutch and the fact that she knew, deep down, he didn’t truly love her (at least, not anymore). That’s why she got so upset when Abigail, for instance, brought this point up. As soon as the conversation shifted from Molly’s love to Dutch’s love, she lashed out and stormed away.

So, to try to summarize this all up, what I am trying to say is that Molly “perceived” challenges to her own state of emotions as a means of shifting away from her concerns about Dutch’s feelings. She knew her "perceptions" were really more like lies to herself. Molly wanted the conversation with Abigail to seem like it was about her because she felt she was more in control of that and could handle it better. From a neutral perspective, the conversation was definitely not about Molly - it was entirely about Dutch, which Molly knew (she just didn’t like Abigail directly pointing it). I hope my response makes more sense? Sorry, if I am still being confusing!

Now, as for Dutch and his progressive ideas, I think a lot of them were formed in his youth. Little information was given about his childhood, but he did seem pretty sensitive about the fact that he grew up fatherless. His dad died in the Civil War (a conflict primarily centered around the issue of slavery and states’ attitudes towards it), while fighting on the side of the Union. One reason Dutch was probably so progressive in regard to race was because of his anger over losing a parent to racially-motivated violence. Racism seemed like a waste of time and life, so he was bitter towards people who still harbored racist sentiments. He knew firsthand how destructive they could be.

Minimal insight was provided into Dutch’s relationship with his mother, other than the fact that it was quite strained and unhappy. He left home at a young age and essentially disowned her. He obviously didn’t keep in touch with her, judging that he didn’t even know she died until years after the fact. Could this have affected his attitude later in life (towards women)?

I suppose it’s possible. Maybe, Dutch would have looked better on women, had he been closer with his mother. I consider his attitude towards women as pretty average for the era. It’s not entirely fair to compare him to Arthur, who was very progressive for the time and definitely above normal standards. As you say, I think Dutch was a product of his time. In RDR2, he didn’t come across as physically abusive, nor did he overtly sexualize women. However, he did seem to expect women to act in a subordinate manner. It's not great (and I certainly do not agree with his attitude), but again, the contemporary standards in regard to gender roles did not exist in 1899.

Lastly, I COMPLETELY agree about Dutch being VERY romantic, sentimental, and idealistic. This wasn’t just limited to interpersonal relationships either - it also fit his entire perspective of America and the values he held dear. Just take a look at some of his quotes:

“The promise of this great nation - men created equal, liberal and justice for all - that might be nonsense, but it’s worth trying for. It’s worth believing in.”

And:

“If we keep on seeking, we will find freedom.”

In the beginning, he had such high hopes and strong faith that he could find a way to live free from social and legislative demands. Compare that to the end, where he started to say things like:

“You can’t fight nature. You can’t fight change.”

And:

“There ain’t no freedom for no one in this country no more.”

Dutch wanted to believe that there was a chance to live free from the threat of control, but as he started to lose people he loved and got closer to losing his own battle, he started to take on a much more cynical tone. He began to realize that his romantic notions and idealistic visions of life were not always obtainable - no matter how hard he tried to reach them - and it broke him. This change in his life outlook was kind of similar to his interpersonal relationships. When he realized they were a lot of work and not always happy/perfect, he seemed to grow frustrated. Love requires a lot of patience and energy. Despite full effort, love still does not always succeed.

Also, I just want to add that I think Dutch knew he had a problem with his pride, but he tried his best to maintain his tough, confident persona because he didn’t want to be perceived as weak. He definitely realized he messed up in putting his pride first in the end, but at that point, it was too late. Whatever was left of his idealistic aspirations in life died with Arthur up on that cliff.

Anyhow, I’ve said more than enough. I’d like to once again thank you for the ask!! I hope my response was worth the time to read and that it makes sense. Feel free to share any more thoughts you may have!!!

~ Faith 💜