#like-- grief works. alec who lost Everything is grieving. alecs family who lost Alec is grieving.

[aria0fgold]

What if I start using That AU!Alec to answer those questions too, what then? (more fun for me. More pain for a different version of Alec).

[beclynn-herondale]

Inside TMI Gang's diaries part 3 - 2/2 for CoG

Clary: Dear diary, so what can I say a lot has happened, me and Sebastian went to find Ragnor and instead found. Magnus, he pretended to be Ragnor. And Sebastian kissed me and it felt wrong, but also he took me to the place where the Fairchild manor use to be, he took me to a burned down manor, and everything felt wrong. Anyway me and Jace also made the Wayland Manor collapse and figured out my father was torturing am angel. Jace is also mad at me so yay.

*Later*

So um... Where do I begin, a lot has happened Idris was attacked, Max... Is dead and the Lightwoods are in pieces, Jace wrote me a love letter and ran off to go after Valentine and get himself killed most likely, Izzy I think probably still doesn't like me, my mom's back but I am mad at her, and she informed me that Jace isn't my brother and now all I can think about is how I want to tell him. Now we are preparing for the next battle so gotta make a rune brb.

*Later, later*

So my father was trying to raise the angel to destroy all the Downworlders, right, so um he killed Jace and I kinda replaced his name in the sand with mine and I used the wish to bring Jace back but like what will people think, oh well, I'd do again if it meant to have him back, safe and alive, to get to love him and make him happy, though idk does he still want me? either way I'd do it again. Also I can't wait to get back to new york and get some COFFEE!, but also please don't let Jace not love me anymore.

Jace: Dear diary, you'll find me in a bad spot at this moment, things have fallen apart, Hodge is dead but I don't feel much for him, Max was killed and I can't help but blame myself, after all it is my fault. The manor where I grew up collapsed and while I knew it was my childhood home, it also felt freeing watching it all fall apart, like watching the bad memories in that place being crushed, like seeing that you can heal. But as I am watching Clary sleep, I know I won't get the chance to ever heal myself, I love her but will never have a future with her, and I have to go after my father and stop him, I know where my journey ends and I always knew it would never be a happy ending for me. So I'll write her a letter and leave with her, I'll tell her all my feelings and let her know what she means to me. I know Izzy and Alec will understand in time. And I probably won't be coming back.

*Later*

So I died but was brought back, I also fought Clary's creepy brother and my father is dead, I feel empty in so many ways, apparently my actual parents were Stephen and Céline Herondale, which would mean Imogen was my grandmother, I don't know what people want me to say or do, I don't even know who I am anymore. Amatis gave me a box with stuff that belonged to my father in it, but I don't know this man, and I know nothing about my mother, I am sitting here looking through it but what am I supposed to feel? I am sitting here thinking about how Clary asked for me of all the things she could have had but maybe she didn't actually want me now, maybe she felt she owed me and that was it, I wouldn't blame her, but I love her, I love her more than anything, I want to see her so bad, she always knows what to say to me and how to comfort me, I miss her. We are also going back to new york soon and thankfully the news that I am apparently a Herondale hasn't gotten to far out yet and hopefully I'll be gone before it does, I don't want to see the stares or hear the whispers. And I'll be back to my room and my blades.

Alec: Dear diary, I write to you today with mixed feelings, of loss and gain, Max is gone and it's all my fault, I spent so much time trying to protect Jace and Izzy that I forgot Max needed protecting too, me and Magnus are a thing now I think, but I can't help but feel guilty because I shouldn't have something so great when I failed to protect my baby brother. Mom and Dad probably will hate me now and Izzy is too shocked and upset for anything honestly, she blames herself but it really isn't her fault. Jace ran off and if I lose him too I don't know if I'll be able to go on like I use to.

*Later*

Somehow our gang is still alive, i have no idea why or how but we are, the pain and hurt and grief is still strong but we will have to carry on. Jace is a Herondale and honestly I don't know how to feel, but he must be so conflicted, I am giving him space cause I know that's what he needs right now. Izzy is hanging with Simon who got her to get out of her room and maybe there will be some friendship between them, me and Magnus are apparently going on a trip and it is what I need, I can't be around at the moment with everybody staring and grieving. And I think everyone needs some space right now, hopefully we'll all be able to get through it, hopefully me and Magnus will be together.

Magnus: Dear diary, there is much to say but no time for it, the Shadowhunters are at war, not surprised, Alec asked me why I never called him back in the middle of a fight, honestly this man, but also he kissed me in front of people in the accords hall which is all I needed him to do to tell me he is serious, although he has also lost so much and I can only hope for the strength he'll need to get through it, we are going to war but Biscuit has made a rune to unite Shadowhunters and Downworlders, honestly this girl is gonna surprise the Clave in many ways and cause so much chaos, I can't wait to see it.

*Later*

We are all pretty much are alive, many were lost but we won the war, if you can call it a win. Me and Alec will be going on a trip, I hope maybe it will help him cope a little, Shadowhunters aren't known for grieving too long, but I think it would do good for them to grieve longer for their lost. Jace is a Herondale and now everything makes much more sense as to why he is the way he is, he has a journey ahead of him though and I can only imagine what he must be feeling, Isabelle I have much respect for and I hope she'll find the comfort she needs in the ones who care for her, Simon Lewis is a brave boy and deserves more credit than people give him, Biscuit is the bravest and I wish her well on her journey to becoming a Shadowhunter, although I don't think Jocelyn will be pleased. I am heading back to new york after the party tonight to deliver the news of Ragnor's death to Catarina and Raphael, and to catch up on some stuff before me and Alec leave, I still wonder if it is all over though.

Izzy: Dear diary, I don't know what to say, so much is lost and I don't know what to do, it's the first time in my life I have felt this lost, it's all my fault that Max is dead, I should have protected him, I never should have trusted that piece of trash Sebastian, if I could kill him I would and if I get the chance I will, Hodge is dead as well but honestly don't care. Simon came to see me and comforted me, he is the only one who didn't say that I need to be strong or that it will get better, he just held me and said it's gonna hurt for a while but your aren't alone, and that's all I needed. And Jace ran off, I wasn't gonna follow him cause I respected his decision but I can't let him die thinking there's something wrong with him or that Clary is his sister, he deserves to know.

*Later*

Sebastian is dead and I am happy about that, many were lost but not my loved ones, I thank the angel for that, Jace is a Herondale and I don't know what he'll do but I won't let people take him, he's my brother, him and Clary can finally be together and I wish them happiness, if the two idiots would realize that they still want each other lol sometimes I wonder about my brothers, Alec is with Magnus now and all I can say is finally. I'll see where things with Simon goes and I actually kinda hope it goes somewhere, but I'll never say that out loud. I still blame myself for Max but I got to keep going, I know he'd want me to.

Simon: Dear diary, my prison friend turned out to be Hodge and he is dead now, idk how to feel, I almost burned tho, at least I was saved, that Sebastian killed Max and I feel terrible for the Lightwoods, Izzy is a wreck and I comforted her after everything, Clary and Jace aren't siblings and I am happy to hear that, it means they won't be suffering anymore and the angst will stop but Jace ran off and he may not come back so maybe it will be worse, Jocelyn is awake and idk what will happen when we get back but I don't think Clary plans to stop being a Shadowhunter, also speaking of my badass best friend, she made an alliance rune, and put the mark of cain on me she feels terrible about that last one but I asked her for a reason, it will all be okay.

*Later*

Everything is okay, thank God, mostly everyone is alive and we can go back to somewhat normal life, tho I don't know how they expect the Lightwoods to, Jace is a Herondale and I guess that's basically a kinda Royal Shadowhunter family? Idk, Clary and Jace appear to be okay, they walked up to us holding hands and it seems they worked things out, I am happy for them. Things with Izzy may be going somewhere but also things with Maia are going somewhere, idk what to do but it may end terribly, Magnus and Alec are a thing now and that's good, I just want to get back to new york and out of here.

Sebastian: Dear diary, these dumbasses have no idea who I really am, father said they wouldn't but I thought maybe they were smarter, especially Jace, you were raised by father as well you pathetic boy, but I guess you fell in love which is exactly what father told you not to do, although he is punishing you for it and trying to get back control over by making you believe Clary is your sister and making you think you are a monster, I am enjoying the show, honestly maybe you'll end yourself that would be fun to watch, although I'd like to kill you myself, after all you were always father's favorite and I would love to see father's face when I kill you, I hope you know I will kill you if I can.

*later*

Well apparently I am dead.

Church: Dear Cat diary, the idiots all lived except the kid, I feel bad he had so much more life to live, the Herondale figured out he was a Herondale congratulations Dum dum, maybe his tragic love will end now that he knows, also Jem seriously I miss you and still want you to save me. Magnus and Alec are together now and it's about damn fucking time, Isabelle is gonna be Isabelle, I feel that Simon kid will be around more now, Clary will probably be a Shadowhunter now, so much fucking happened and honestly the Shadowhunters need to get their shit together. Valentine may be dead but the stuff he caused isn't, there is much to be rebuilt, I just hope the drama is over, I am getting to old for this shit. Jem again I miss you and you are the only other intelligent one, end my suffering please!, Also I want some tuna, I'm gonna go find that Herondale to get me some.

(again not my best but the others will be better, I can't wait to continue, hopefully you enjoy these)

[justpeachythoughts0916]

Grieving & My Grieving Journey...So Far...

February 2nd, 2021: When I was growing up the only grief I truly felt was the loss of grandparents and pets. The only grief I experienced firsthand all made sense to me, people who followed the order of life you get older, you get sicker, and then die.  At that point and in those instances it wasn't hard for me to utilize logic and reason to understand their lives were lived and their time here had expired.

In high school I witnessed the school, my friends, and my classmates just in shambles after two boys died in two separate car accidents. These deaths caused me to feel an overwhelming amount of empathy and sympathy for my sad friends, but I wasn't close enough to these two to grieve really. I felt bad for everyone feeling so bad and knew a generic "I'm sorry" simply would not suffice.  I still knew there was nothing on this planet that I could say or do to heal that wound. I knew there was no making sense of these tragic deaths. Two happy, smiling, kind, young souls were gone. There is no making that okay.

Since high school this area is cursed with so many young deaths. We've lost people to suicides, accidents, overdoses, the list goes on. Still, I remained in the helpful, supportive friend role. I was not the one with my world upside down, and truthfully at the time I was grateful. Watching people so sad from grieving was heart breaking enough.

When I was 20 and pregnant with my first son we had a gender reveal party, we were ecstatic, my family never had boys. We had people stay the night in a tent in my mom's backyard because we in no way wanted anyone to drive home drunk. My friends at the time partied until morning, then all four went to sleep in a little four person tent.

I woke up at tenish, my mom made French toast for breakfast for everyone, then left for a matinee with her friend. One by one my hungover friends started coming in for breakfast. My son's soon to be God Father came in and said "Nate snored so loud, he shook my pillow" I replied, "He was cocked, and passed out" and giggled at the thought of their shenanigans. My step-dad and sister and his best friend were just watching the Sunday Giants game, casually cracking their first beer around noon. 

My friends were about ready to go, trying to figure out how to make the six people fit in a five person car. Nate wasn't up yet, not shocked, it was only 1:00 pm. He was sleeping on his tummy, using his arm as a pillow. I started to wake him up saying "Nate...Nate...Nate..." giggly and patient. I tickled his feet and he didn't move, he was just sleeping heavy. "Nate...Nate...Nate..." I pushed my fingertips into the soles of his feet and they stayed. I instantly said "He's dehydrated, and retaining fluid, get him water." Still not panicking...I stared at his back looking for breath movement before I thought "I'll just yank him by the ankles, that'd wake anyone up." So, I did just that...nothing. I went to look at him and saw purple skin through his red hairline and ran to get an adultier adult, my step-dad.

I ran into the house, where they were all watching a seemingly compelling play during the game, bursted in and yelled "Nate's blue, he won't wake up, I don't think he's breathing!" I've never seen my 6' 8" step-dad move so fast. He ran outside, ducked in and looked in the tent for about .1 seconds before he said "Steph, you need to call 911 now!" at 1:06 pm I picked up Nate's phone (it was the closest in reach) and tried to give a bunch of information to a dispatcher. I made little to no sense, because my step-dad didn't tell me why I was calling 911, combined with anxiety, I wasn't able to give them my mom's address. My younger sister tried to take the phone from me but the dispatcher asked "Can anyone there do CPR?" We all could, why didn't I think of that? I handed the phone off to my sister, and ran back to my step-dad and all my friends just shaking their heads and said "WE CAN DO CPR!" My step-dad as calmly and level as he could said "We can't save him, Steph, he's gone."

My. Soul. Left. My. Body.

My legs just stopped working.

Draped in my step-dads arms.

He's 6' 8" standing next to him I'm chest height.

I was down to his stomach.

Sobbing.

Drooling.

Quickly I ran away from his embrace screaming "NO. NO. NO. NO", into the road screaming up it "WHATS TAKING THEM SO LONG?!"

In that instant for the first time, it was me. I was the one with the dead best friend. Begging cops "Let me go with you to his Mom, her whole world is upside down here, and you're gonna tell her that with a straight face, just take me to tell her." Of course, I was informed protocol exists, and that couldn't happen. The second Nate's death hit social media I was the one flooded with "Oh my god, what happened?" "I'm so sorry" "My condolences" blah blah fucking blah.

My best friend's heart stopped to due to a lethal combination of Xanax and alcohol. Nothing about life or death made sense anymore. My best friend died from partying too hard? How do you make sense of that? When we all went to his services we stood in a circle together. Everyone stared, everyone, we were the last ones with him. We were trying to process what was about to happen at the viewing and we heard "That's them." The services were a nightmare. My friend Bryan and I were first to walk in, and the second we saw his bright red hair in that white casket we both couldn't stand. We stopped the line, and I sobbed and said "We can't do this." We went in the room with his twin sister and mom, we offered his sister his aviator sunglasses that were left in the tent, and we offered his mom to go to her favorite local ice cream parlor on Mothers Day every year, a tradition Nate followed with her. I asked Nate's mom permission to name my son Nathan when we went to see her the day after he died, so I tucked an ultrasound of his namesake in his pocket, and a pack of cigarettes with his lucky flipped. We stayed through the whole viewing, saw all those sad broken faces, got all the sad and sorry hugs, at the end we all walked up together I kissed his forehead, and we left.

I spent the first threeish years of my new life without Nate crying occasionally or at appropriate times, like when I gave birth to my Nathan. The rest of the time I kinda carried on like mentally him and I were taking a break from eachother, like I myself was choosing not to message or call. I got into therapy after hearing countless "You need helps" from family and friends. In therapy, I was cautioned that this event gave me Complex PTSD and Complex Grieving. Still, I just kept going with the flashbacks, nightmares, and the stages of grief over and over. Three years in, I had a startling realization using a butt fuck of psychedelics of "Oh my God, my person is gone, I can't get him back, we can't talk, and that really happened." Instantly, I was grieving his death like new again. Oh no. I had less than understanding from most people. Most people honestly seemed perplexed how it could feel so fresh after "so many years" *eyeroll to my spine*. Solely because me being pained and honest with it is/was uncomfortable. OOOF.

I knew Nate taught me so much in his life and in his death. He also was the first to teach me how to help people in early grief, because of how many conversations I had that were text book This Is Not What You Say To Someone Grieving. Then again, we're all different.

Just before the 4 year mark with Nate's death, death found me again and again, it followed the people I loved. My honest theory is I saw death up close and personal, I know what that type of empty feels like, I was the one sobbing pounding the ground, mad at the world, so I noticed the devastation easier. I became the support system for my grieving friends, all by just being honest from the get, "Welcome to the club you don't want to be in, you still have to try to eat, you're never gonna be the same and there is nothing you can say to me that sounds crazy coming from the girl who has screamed in the cemetery at 2:00 AM "OVER A FUCKING XANAX?!" and unfortunately this club doesn't come with t-shirts it comes with trauma." It's simple to me, really. Act like they have a cancer on their brain with out being so in-your-face-it-feels-fake. Easy. I've helped countless freshly grieving people in the years after Nate's death.

  In October of 2020 I was talking to Zack, my middle school best friend on the phone, I needed help. He couldn't help me, as he was in legal trouble and needed to lay low. We caught up for a while, aside from what I needed help with. At one point he said "I wish Squid was here, he would've been down in a heartbeat." Squid passed in February of 2020. We talked at length about being more careful with ourselves, the worries we had about our other friends, and what grieving is like. Then he said, "I don't know how much closer death can get to me than Squid, he was my boy, it broke me." I just said  "I miss that boy so much, he was so warm." Zack went on to say "I don't wanna know which one of us is gonna go first, I don't wanna be the one left." We gave eachother all of our love, and hung up.

  On November 19th, 2020 Zack and another friend of ours from middle school, Alex, were headed home from Alex's band practice late at night. Alex was driving when he lost control of the vehicle. They both died on impact, together. It killed me. They died just riding home? The messages flooded in again. "I'm so sorry" "If you need anything, I'm here" as disingenuous as you could be really be. Again, I'm the one with the dead friends. Feeling emptiness in my finger tips. I hated everything, again.

  "If everything happens for a reason, than what the fuck?"

"Why them? Why me?"

Despair

When I laid in my boyfriend's bed staring at where the white ceiling met the lavender walls with silent tears streaming down my face I felt empty in my bones. I went outside, lit a cigarette, and called my soul brother, Alec. Al is traditionally a goof ball, but in sad times he has a way with comforting people. He's an absolute doll. I knew I needed to hear his voice and his words. When we spoke I cried and said all the awful initial thoughts, "How am I the one left? I didn't wanna do that. What do I do?" After I got those thoughts out we had a talk that would forever change my views on loss and grief. He said "All of these losses teach us something. Losing Squid taught me that I needed, wanted, and could have a healthy supportive friendship with Alison (his ex-wife, my best friend)." Alison drove up from Georgia to support me, Alec, all of our people, and grieve herself with her people. The hug they shared outside of the funeral home looked cathartic on a soulful level to me. They were who eachother needed to have in that sad and vulnerable time, even after their separation. To that I said, "I still don't get the fucking point."

That's when Alec said something I'll never forget. First, he quoted Carl Sagan in Cosmos, "We're all just a blue dot." Made zero sense, as I had yet to read all of Cosmos, and Alec already had (more than once). He then said, "People's love for you is eternal, regardless of when their physical being dies. Every lesson they taught someone will permanently imprint them, transferring person to person, generation to generation. Zack's love, Squid's Love, Alex's love, Nate's love, everyone's love is eternal as long as your soul learned things from them." I started crying hard. We gradually caught up and got ready to hang up and he said "Stephanie, you will have my love eternally, in this life and in the next, even if my physical being dies you will always have love from an Al"

  I had to process those words for weeks, thinking of every act of love, every admirable thing, every moment I witnessed that all my seemingly lost humans gave me, and what changed in me because of those moments. All of these souls filled up books in my mind, heart, and soul. They taught me how to be a happier better me, and they all loved me so much. These acts of love transferred onto my family, my friends, my kids, my relationship, hell, even strangers. Alec was right, my humans didn't die at all, and the more I looked the more I found glimpses of their love here, with me, no matter where they are. They literally cannot die, and there's no choice in the matter, it just happens.

I still have sad days and moments, but I know the saddest moments for me are also the most loving acts they gave me coming to surface...They are still with me to make those moments possible. You cannot change grief. It is a wild bull you just got onto, and you have to hold on tight and dig your spurs in for the rest of your life. The only thing that has calmed the immense pain I've felt was allowing these amazing humans to permanently imprint their best moments onto me. I'm forever grateful I had the privilege to be imprinted by so many angelic souls. All these seemingly small, miniscule moments created the most love in my soul. I'm here to learn, and I've been taught by the best of the best. Their deaths were not in vein, their deaths have all changed me. I sincerely hope this makes you consider how many souls have imprinted on you in life and in death, allowing seemingly impossible eternal love into your heart and soul.

XOXO

"I'm sure there ain't a Heaven, but that don't mean I don't like to picture you there. I bet you're bumming cigarettes off saints, and I'm sure you're still singing, but I'll bet that you're still just a bit out of key." Cigarettes and Saints by The Wonder Years

Dedicated to:

Nathan E. Osgood Sami Jo Colson Zaccaria "Squid" Crankshaw Ally LaMont Ryan Burton Zack Luck & Alexander Simon

I'll miss you everyday for the rest of my life, and will carry your eternal love wherever I may go.

Finally, thank you, to the first responders of Mayfield, NY that were first on scene when Nate passed away on September 20th, 2015

[vaguely-concerned]

Some Alec Ryder Meta

So since I couldn’t find the screenshots of Alec Ryder’s dying ‘thoughts’, I went and got them myself!* And I am uh way closer to crying than I thought I would be, Alec sort of surprised me here. Let’s go! 

I was NOT prepared for his literal first thought to be of his children. And notice -- this is not his children being impressive or special or idk ordered/obedient. It’s them being happy and safe and playing and chaotic. I uh did not expect this, frankly.

I’m guessing this is where they used to live when the kids were small! (Would this be before or during their time on the Citadel? The timeline there is so hazy to me haha, I can never quite remember how that works)

Baby Scott on the swing ;______; I wonder if Alec is ‘there’ off screen in this scene, pushing him, since we start off with a shot looking over Scott’s shoulder like that 

Can I just say how quietly charmed I am by the fact that in Alec’s memories Ellen isn’t captured when she was ~*young and beautiful*~ or whatever nonsense -- she’s a mature woman, the same age as himself. It feels like there is something sweet and telling in that, like they were partners/equals in his mind. (This also makes me very uncomfortable to think he didn’t ask her/didn’t get her consent at the last moment on her death bed to put her in stasis, after the twins left the room at least; he seems to have respected her so much, if he went against her wishes that’s... such a breach of everything she seems to have meant to him and really should have been addressed more because it would essentially be his big sin as a character. So I choose to believe for now that when the kids left he did one last ‘give it this one last shot and I promise that if I find nothing within a certain time I’ll let you go and grieve like a normal fucking person’ sales pitch, possibly with prepared Science to back him up because they were both kind of weird like that and I think that if anything could have worked that would. ‘But think of the scientific implications tho babe wouldn’t you want to be able to find out how worked?’ ‘...You’ve got me there’)

More confirmation that Ellen had probably come to terms with her death and Alec Really Hadn’t lol. (Ellen might have just been grateful she lost neither of her children to the eezo exposure, actually -- she would have understood intimately how phenomenally lucky they were that both the twins survived and were healthy to boot) If I were to hazard a guess I’d say that Alec probably was in pretty bad need of space therapy even before his wife got ill, she was just his emotional support and he was intelligent and driven enough to hide most of it until that stability came under threat

:( this is upsetting. It doesn’t come across as well without the movement but he’s bowing his head and putting his face in his hands. Either Ellen when she’s really sick or when she uh ‘died’ 

I’m fairly sure that’s Ellen’s eyes -- and crucially they’re opening again. 

Mom and the twins :’) I think it’s pretty clear Alec did that thing some people (especially men) do where they sort of organize all their feelings through their partner -- “Your mother would have been proud of you, of both of you” JESUS CHRIST ALEC JUST TELL YOUR CHILDREN YOU’RE PROUD OF THEM LIKE YOU ACTUALLY MEANT TO SAY, THEY ALREADY KNOW THEIR MOM LOVED THEM FOR GOD’S SAKE YOU ARE THE UNCERTAIN ELEMENT HERE

ETA: actually this might also have something to do with how convinced he seems to be that the kids don’t need him -- that his love and attention and regard doesn’t matter or count, or would even be seen as an imposition (he consistently refers to himself pretty self-deprecatingly in connection to them, their ‘old man’ coming in and messing up their lives, like he considers his absence to probably be the best he can do for them? He certainly devalues his own impact massively, positive or negative). Meanwhile Ellen’s place in all their lives is a clear and uncontested positive so maybe that’s why he goes for her pride and her love like that. Again: who the fuck raised this weird dysfunctional man to be like this and how did he get away with it for so long haha

Alec and adult/at least teenaged twins! a) I suspect going to another galaxy with them to explore might honestly have been his idea of how bonding works, which... well and b) Sara is right behind him, leaning in like she’s listening and interested in what he’s saying and maybe even speaking too, and Scott looks to me like he’s sort of stranded on the side, looking in but not quite able to connect the same way. (This might be coloured by what I know about their respective relationships from the rest of the game, granted)

The same memory as before BUT interestingly --

the camera is turning around, like Alec is trying to get a look at his children’s faces and can’t :) this is fine and not at all illustrative of his entire deal *everything in my heart is on fire*

sOME observations: 

- These flashes give you more emotional insight in him than all the unlockable memories put together, and you’ll literally never see most of them unless you’re a freak like me, painstakingly frame by framing your way through it. That... seems like a waste?? 

- Despite his numerous flaws and shortcomings as a parent and as a person, literally every single thought he has at the end is about his family -- and not only his wife, all of them. There’s no place for his work here at all. That doesn’t absolve him of anything, of course, but it makes me sad that he never found a better way to show it, or to emotionally connect with his children, which he seems to have a real wish to. (”Maybe six hundred years can change a man”) Bioware... Bioware sequel pls don’t leave it like this ;_________;

- He himself does not figure prominently in his memories, and when he does he is faceless and vague -- except for when he is completely alone with his grief and Ellen is gone. I think there is something to be said about the fact that he makes all these huge inspiring speeches about the unknown and exploration... and yet his actual motivation is so firmly rooted in this immense fear of the unknown and of himself, of not knowing who to be without his wife, of not knowing how to go on living, of being alone. I wonder to what degree he knows this himself. (From what I’ve read so far of Mass Effect Initiation he certainly isn’t as idealistic about the whole thing as even the game portrays him, where he’s show to be pretty clear-eyed about the Initiative already -- or maybe he sort of is an idealist, under the fear and the jaded exhaustion. Either he genuinely believes Andromeda will hold answers and that science can achieve the impossible or he’s just too scared to consider any other outcome. Oh Boy tm)

- Ellen’s illness is such a cataclysmic event for him that I really have to assume he was never that stable to begin with. And as we’ve seen: When a Ryder goes off the rails they do so in STYLE and drag thousands of people with them to an uncertain fate haha

- My personal headcanon is that Alec used to be a better dad before Ellen got ill and when the kids were still very young; when all they really needed was to be held and loved and made to feel safe, and then became more and more distant as his work with SAM progressed and the children’s emotional needs grew more complex and demanding. Sara remembers this part of their father better (or clings to it more desperately, depending on your point of view) and is also more like him in general, being driven, competitive and intensely intellectually engaged (no matter how you play her in-game, Sara is always presented as vastly more A Nerd than Scott is -- its own can of worms of course but it’s there in the text). Meanwhile Scott has reached a resigned sort of ‘It’s perfectly plausible my dad would not be able to pick me out from a crowd’ place about it and given up on expecting anything more a long time ago in self defense. I think they’ve both hit on different parts of the truth there lol

(Also Sara and Alec seem to have bonded over making fun of Scott a little bit and considering him the underachiever of the two and like Not Cool guys!!! :( ) 

- Anyway Alec Ryder is a very interesting and immensely flawed character and killing him off and never meaningfully engaging with him again seems like throwing away a golden opportunity. Sequel where ‘Ghost Riders’ takes on a new meaning when??? I just want the twins to be able to either yell at him or connect to him better, as appropriate to the feelings of the individual player (I totally get why people would want to give their Ryders a chance to straight up hate him)

I think where it really hurts for me is that he clearly has these feelings, the capacity for it. There’s a wealth of affection and... tenderness? reverence, nearly? in these memories. None of his outward hardass needs-everything-to-be-under-control persona. And yet he could find no way to express this or even really meaningfully stay with his own feelings and his children suffered for it. It’s just all so fucking sad

*Courtesy of DanaDuchy’s youtube channel, which is truly one of the marvels of the internet; please check it out if you have any interest at all in Bioware games or indeed RPGs/games in general, there’s SO much content and it’s all neatly organized! If like me you want to listen to all the banter of every game... this channel’s got you covered

[carmenlire]

Slipping Under

read on ao3

Standing in the doorway, Maryse presses unsteady hands to her middle.

She tries to take a deep breath but finds that she can’t quite manage it. The best she can do is a sort of desperate, choking inhale and things are dire indeed as the man sitting at her son’s bedside doesn’t flinch, acts for all the world like he’s unaware of her presence-- oblivious to the medics in the room, all of his attention focused on Alec.

That first step into the infirmary takes more strength than Maryse thought she had. She doesn’t want to get closer and see just how thready her son’s lifeline is, doesn’t want to face what the other end of the phone call promised less than an hour ago. As she nears the bed, she sees the claw marks in Alec’s side, stretching from just below his ribs to just above his hip. They’re vicious streaks of black-streaked crimson and a sob builds in her throat.

Venomous ichor, she thinks and the pit in her stomach digs a little deeper, leaves her nauseous and terrified.

Magnus doesn’t look up as she nears. No, his gaze is glued to his husband, both of his hands clutching one of Alec’s. In what she thinks must be an unconscious move, he’s twisting Alec’s wedding ring, a tiny compulsive tick as his unglamoured eyes stay fastened to the man in front of him.

Maryse doesn’t say anything, doesn’t try to shift his attention. She just takes the empty chair on her son’s other side and lowers herself gently. It feels like she’s aged a century in the past forty minutes.

The drone of the heart rate monitor is steadying. Every beat means Alec is still alive, that he’s still fighting.

Now that she’s closer, Maryse sees her son in all his shadowhunter glory and it makes her sick to her stomach.

Bruises litter his body. There are half a dozen iratzes drawn over his heart, his abdomen, his thigh. She sees the bones of his arm knitting back together under scraped flesh and her heart clenches.

There are other marks, though. These are old-- the scar that runs parallel to his clavicle, an old wound clumsily and hastily healed from when he’d taken a tumble during training, dozens of tiny scars from the endless recoil of his bowstring.

There are scores of marks that proclaim her child a soldier, a warrior with the angel’s blessing.

As Maryse studies her son’s prone form, a piece of her heart grieves. It steals her breath, the overwhelming sorrow she has for what’s become of her eldest. If she'd known now what she knew then, she would've taken her children and run as far and fast from this world as she could. This world makes children grow up too damned fast, robs them of their childhood and does its best to carve their hearts right from their chests before they're even old enough to understand what they're losing.

It's a zero sum gave and the Clave is always the damned victor.

The infirmary staff work quietly in the background and Maryse moves her chair over to give them more room. Magnus doesn’t move and no one dares suggest he do so.

Watching as shadowhunters do everything they can to save their leader, Maryse is left alone with her thoughts.

Eventually, a salve is spread over the claw marks before it's bandaged with pristine strips of cotton. The color contrast is striking, covering up such angry wounds, but it worries her, how Alec’s skin seems leached of all color, blending in with the linen.

Long hours pass and Jace and Izzy stop by for long visits before exhaustion pulls them both to their bedrooms. Patrol had been so brutal that night and her other children had applied iratzes as well to stave off the consequences of a hard battle.

Through it all, Alec doesn’t move. He doesn’t twitch, doesn’t grunt in pain. There are no snores and that causes another little pang in Maryse’s heart.

Alec’s snored since he was just a toddler. Back then they’d been cute little snuffles that had made her chest ache with love. The few times she’d roused him as a teenager, they’d morphed until it was like a buzzsaw was sounding in his bedroom.

She wonders dryly how Magnus sleeps in the same room with the man.

Looking over, she smiles wanly at the sight-- Magnus’s eyes are closed, his chin resting on his chest in a position that will prove extremely painful later. His hands haven’t moved from Alec’s. Maryse is just set to get up, maybe urge Magnus to take Alec’s old bedroom or even set up a cot here when she stills.

Magnus groans a little, blinking open gold eyes blearily. She watches as his gaze flies to Alec’s face, panicked, hoping for a change before his shoulders slump even more when he sees that there’s no change at all.

His hands tighten on Alec’s and then he’s gingerly moving his chair so that his knees are flush to the bedside. He carefully leans forward until he can rest his head beside Alec’s uninjured side, on scratchy utilitarian sheets. He doesn’t seem to be aware that he’s not alone in the shadows of the infirmary. It strikes her that this scene is incongruous with who most believe Magnus to be. There is no elegance in his slouch and sharp eyes are red rimmed and exhausted. There is no pride in the man on the other side of the bed, just hope and endurance. He is not the High Warlock tonight, in this room. He is simply Mr. Lightwood-Bane, a worried husband.

Maryse watches her son-in-law turn his head so that he can look up at Alec and there’s a love there that’s so deep it steals her breath.

She’s never known that kind of devotion. It fills her with not an inconsiderable amount of awe and relief that her son found someone who looks at him like he’s not just their sun but the whole damn universe.

Magnus falls asleep like that and she doesn’t have it in her to disturb him. It’s like his whole body sags toward the bed and the exhaustion that must have been riding him hard has disappeared, albeit temporarily.

Left alone with her thoughts, Maryse finds twining shades of grief and regret seeping into her gut. For the longest time, her children were nothing more than additions to the Institute’s roster, a mercenary way to outrun her own disastrous missteps.

As she studies her son in the low light, shame scalds her throat. She was a worthless mother-- horrid, selfish, cold.

She thinks about how many times she could’ve lost Alec and the others. She thinks about her son who was once her pride and joy and how many times she slammed the metaphorical door in his face.

By the grace of the angel, Maryse has found her second chance. It haunts her sometimes-- often-- how little she recognizes the woman she’d grown into. Tonight is the latest in a long line of times Alec’s been injured.

It strikes her now, though, how close she’s come countless times to losing Alec.

Tears well in her eyes and she bites back a sob at the realization. It’s another side of a coin she’s flipped dozens of times over the past few years, another light bulb that illuminates just how low she’d sunk and how much she still has to go before she’s finally free from the hole she’d dug herself.

Most days Maryse resigns herself to never seeing total sunshine again.

Laying a gentle hand on Alec’s knee, she smooths away imperceptible wrinkles from the sheet that covers him up to his waist.

There was a time she knew Alec, her darling baby boy, better than anyone else. She knew his favorite color was blue and his favorite food chocolate cake with almonds and that he loved the giraffes at the zoo with a passion reserved only for five year old boys without a care in the world.

Then she’d changed and Alec had followed suit and she mourns the boy he’d turned into-- the boy she’d turned him into with her cold words and biting contempt.

She was so blind, she thinks now. Looking back, the signs were all there but she’d been too stupid and too full of herself to realize and there’s not a day that goes by when she doesn’t wish she’d done something, something different.

She’d thought his training sessions were nothing more than a boy’s attempts to make his mother proud. Maryse hadn’t known that they were punishments, not at first, and by the time she had she’d been apathetic.

And then there was the morning she’d surprised her Institute by returning from Idris early. She’d watched Alec and his parabatai train and she’d known what those looks meant, the lingering glances Alec stole when he thought Jace wasn’t looking.

It had killed her to see them, to realize what they meant. She’d never stopped to wonder what Alec must be thinking, feeling, inside the cold walls of the Institute. Her treatment had become even more abrasive after that day and it sickens her now to remember the way she’d looked at her son and seen a failure, a disappointment.

She’d mostly washed her hands of him after that, his only value as a soldier. When he’d proposed to Lydia, she’d been pleasantly surprised-- fuck, she’d been over the damned moon.

Her eyes drop down to Alec’s hand resting near hers. Oh so carefully, she covers it with her own and she smiles even as her heart aches, as it bleeds out for the mother she’d been and the mother Alec had needed.

So foolish, she thinks now. So terrible.

Still, Maryse hadn’t seen anything amiss until the night of Max’s rune ceremony.

It had taken seeing Alec falling over a ledge for her to realize just how much damaged she’d done.

What kind of mother, she used to think, could let her child suffer so much without knowing?

She’d been that mother and shame burns through her.

Her thumb strokes over scarred flesh in gentle sweeps and she knows these particular scars are a biting reminder of everything Alec’s been through.

He’s stronger than she knew, stronger than he should’ve ever had to be.

As Maryse watches over her son, she knows that she’s a different person, infinitely better. While Alec may have forgiven her-- and isn’t that something that stuns her every time she stops to think about it-- Maryse has yet to forgive herself.

She vows for the thousandth time to be there for her family the way she should’ve been all along. She doesn’t want to have any regrets moving forward.

Maryse stays awake until dawn light starts to peak through the stained glass windows in the infirmary. Her eyes burn and her back aches but she doesn’t move.

She watches over her son-- and over Magnus-- and it’s the easiest thing in the world.

When Alec opens his eyes hours later and turns his head, the first thing he sees is his mom, watching him with warm eyes.

It’s a punch to the gut and when she straightens and runs a hand through his hair like she used to do when he was little, he sighs and lets his eyes close once more.

He feels Magnus’s hand in his and with his mom standing watch, he feels the safety net he’d craved for so long fall into place.

It’s more than he’d hoped for all those years, more than he’d thought he'd deserved.

Alec tries to stay awake a few moments more, wanting to sear this onto his hazy memory, but pain pulls at the edges of his conscious and he slips under again to escape.

Maryse stands and leans over her son, bringing her hand down to rest along his cheek. She kisses his forehead and while part of her mourns for the thousands kisses and hugs she’d missed-- thrown away in bitter apathy-- she cherishes this chance and promises herself it’ll become one of countless.