#the way their reunions were ALWAYS framed as romantic and full of longing

[cinematicnomad]

#bobo literally walked into his first day on the job and went 'these men are fucking right?' and didn't wait for an answer (via @bebeverse)

And you’re not even gonna see him when you’re in Idaho?

[hanadoesstuffbadly]

‘Online’ ch I - RS&t7D University AU

Hello, I was looking for Red Shoes fanfiction when I discovered that there are little to no Modern AUs being written. So i figured, screw it, I’ll do it myself because I love modern AUs.

This is the first chapter and it is very long, so if you don’t feel like reading it, fair enough. I’m planning to write the whole thing anyway because I also love writing and it’s good practise.

Small warning if you do want to read this: Merlin is British. I am British. British people are very sarcastic and very moody all of the time. This entire first chapter is from Merlin’s perspective so there are a lot of British phrases and idioms used. If you are fortunate enough to not be an eternally grumpy Brit, don’t worry, the next chapter will be a very bad written impersonation of an American!!

Also, this is my first ever fanfiction so please don’t judge me too harshly, I am but a young peasant girl.

Sooooooooo.... Summary.

Merlin is a twenty year old student at Southend University. To combat his detrimental narcissism, his counsellor suggests online gaming. Merlin tries to cheat by using an ancient game called Fairytale Island, which designs your avatar to match a photograph. This plan falls apart when his laptop explodes, turning his avatar tiny and green. He ploughs on regardless, sure that he will encounter nobody. Little does he know, that a newly moved student from the States is coming online the very same night. :)

(It’s kinda switched so Merlin is the last of the F7 to get his attitude set right.)

With that done... I hope you don’t hate it!

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Merlin couldn’t stand mornings, especially Friday mornings. Because for the duration of his first year of Uni, Friday’s lessons had always begun at the reasonable hour of 2 o’clock in the afternoon. This left Merlin a good half hour to be awake, out of the door and on his bike, zipping past the crowded Southend beaches. In short, Merlin hated Friday mornings because he had not seen one in fifteen months. Needless to say, it was not a welcome reunion.

Approximately twelve minutes prior to commencing with today’s zipping -at the unlawful hour of nine in the morning- Merlin had been idly stirring shredded wheat into a depressing gruel (much to the disgust of the ever-vigilant, ever-attentive, red-haired cook,) basking in his own tardiness. 

Had he asked for counselling? No. 

Did he need counselling? None of their business.

Did he want to be dragged out of bed at half-eight by six overbearing housemates who apparently believed it was "necessary" or "overdue"; to be packed off to the Resource Centre so that they could “Evaluate any and all emotional or psychological issues which may have arisen for you, as a student whom we have identified as being at risk, before the beginning of this new academic term”? No, he did not!

Contrary to a promising forecast, the sky was a sapphire pool overhead. Thus, the fantasy of motorbiking down empty seafront roads, the brassy drumming of thunder and the gurgle of saltwater smothering his roaring engine (Hans called him a madcap but personally, Merlin preferred the term Raptor-trainer) was squashed. And given that a motorbike charging down the road in the wee hours of the morning was frowned upon, Merlin was forced to content himself with walking at a purposefully counter-productive pace to the bus stop down the hill. Stubbornly, he insisted on himself that he wore a cobalt-blue, long-sleeved shirt with grey trousers; dressing not for the weather he had, but the weather he wanted. This was a stupid idea and the sleeves were rolled up before he reached sea-level. He had to restrain himself from missing a bus entirely. It wasn’t crowded, because of course it wasn’t. Everyone else in Southend had better things to be doing. 

Like sleeping. 

The bus didn’t even go all the way to the college, stopping at least a dozen yards from the entrance like a noncommittal shrug. It took everything in Merlin to not  keep his butt planted securely in his seat; let the busyness of British public transport whisk him away to the Leigh on Sea station; catch a train to Fenchurch street; disappear into Central London; never be seen or heard from again, especially by Dr- as a student whom we have identified as being at risk- LeFey; then inevitably die from water pollution at a ripe old age of thirty-five. It took everything in him, but he walked down to the building, through glass-doors ornamented by a million sweaty fingerprints, and into a waiting room that smelt of Sellotape.

Unsurprisingly, the stately woman at the desk gave him barely a passing glance, handing him a form to fill in with the enthusiasm of an automatic door sliding open. Also unsurprisingly, the assistant behind her paused in rearranging a filing cabinet to brush a couple of sandy hairs behind her ear and chew the end of a pen like it was made of liquorice. She even wandered aimlessly away from her task altogether, sidling up to the front desk most inconspicuously.

Merlin's mood brightened. While he leant down to scribble his name and address on the paper, he winked discreetly in her direction.  In spite of definitely not looking at him, her cheeks turned beetroot crimson and what might have been a giggle or the beginnings of a small heart attack escaped her lips. 

Against all of the shoddiness of his day so far, Merlin grinned inwardly, sizing her up with half of his attention. Tall, slender, twenty-one, twenty-two most likely. Stray blonde curls framed a thickly tanned face, the rest piled atop her head in a bun. In all, not a bad picture, although her wardrobe did leave something to be desired: Bell-bottomed jeans and a T-shirt reading "Darth Vader was framed", betraying that 

A. She still thought that bell-bottomed anything was a good look, and 

B. That she had never paid more than six quid for a shirt. 

However, her figure and the hang of her hair more than made up for those discrepancies. Perhaps he could get something out of this counselling after all. With this in mind, he cleared his throat loudly,

"I'm terribly sorry, Miss," he waved the form vaguely in front of his face, "but I have a small problem."

Perhaps knowing exactly what he was doing and being used to it by this point, the woman, Ms Marion- who had decided that underneath a lace cardigan was the place for a name tag- ignored him completely, leaving miss bell-bottoms to round the edge of the counter and come to stand by his side over the offending form.

"What's the matter?" She asked, sincerely.

"Y'see," Merlin began, fixing her with a smile that even Jack admitted made anyone weak at the knees, "right here it's asking me for something that I just don't really get." He pointed accordingly, and bell-bottoms leant in closer. To get a really good look at the text, of course.

"We need your mobile number."

"Oh, I see, now here's the thing." Wearing a look of utter helplessness, he faced bell-bottoms completely. She appeared confused, her face becoming redder by the second. "I don't have one of those."

"What?"

"A mobile number." He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "You wouldn't mind terribly giving me yours, would you?"

If he squinted, Merlin was fairly certain he would see her bell-bottomed soul leaving her body and fluttering out of the window. He took her lack of reaction as an invitation,

"Lin Pendragon." He extended one hand, still cloaked in a fingerless glove the colour of wet bark. Despite his housemates deciding otherwise, Merlin was in fact not his actual name, and he would sooner be caught dead than introducing himself with it to an attractive young woman such as this. "Part time Ancient Historian, full time Romantic."

Bell-bottoms took the hand and shook it with unexpected firmness,

"Gowlle Delocks. Part time assistant, full time, um..." She seemed a little lost, floundering like a GCSE English paper "Full time-"

"Doctor Morgan LeFey. Part time tolerator of tardiness. This is not one of those times Mister Pendragon."

Spinning on his heel and effectively knocking the form onto the floor, Merlin faced the speaker, who stood in the doorway of a side-office like a disgruntled flamingo.

One thing came to mind when Merlin looked at the counsellor and that was the smell created when someone burns popcorn in a microwave. Forehead too small; nose too large, a hairy wart taking up most of it; everything that should end in a curve ending in an acute, needle-like point. She looked like a bad imitation of a Picasso painting come to life. Yellow hair that might have been blonde hung from her scalp, which he could almost see for how thin the stuff was; and her olive skin was definitely closer to a pale, sickly green from where Merlin was standing. The murky, sky-blue gown that would have looked excessive in the nineteenth century certainly didn't help. Summed up, she looked like a creature one would throw something at if it approached them on a dark night. Merlin felt his nose wrinkle in disgust.

So, he had been forced into counselling by a literal witch. Today was just going swimmingly wasn't it.

Dr Lefey's "office" was exactly what Merlin expected. Save of course for a cauldron,  broomstick and small children in display cases. Indigo curtains rather than blinds hung at each side of a wide picture window that looked out on a garden peppered by horrendous little gnomes. Their China faces were stained green by years of mildew build-up. Her wooden floor she had covered with gaudy, knitted rugs, and the sides of her desk had glow-in-the-dark stars stuck to them. On the off-white walls hung various, tasteless frames of all sorts and colours, each depicting a photograph taken by somebody who was evidently not a professional photographer. One such picture especially caught his eye.

"This you, Miss… Lefty?" The question was stupid, of course it was her, every other human being on the planet had at least managed to look like one. The photo showed the woman sitting in a cluster of children underneath a cobbled-together shack, a paper tiara on her head and a wand made out of several plastic straws. "The fairy princess in the mauve cardigan?"

"First," She answered, pushing the door shut behind her with her pointy hip, "It's Doctor Lefey, but you will call me Morgan in these sessions." Merlin couldn't help but smirk internally when she assumed there would be more than one of these nightmares. "Second, yes, that is me in the photograph, November, four years ago, Uganda, a recycling activity. And third," The slam of a hefty file being dropped unceremoniously on to a desk made Merlin jump. "I was the fairy Queen."

"Well, your majesty," he ducked his head in a mock bow, "you've aged..." At first, he searched for an adverb but then realised, he didn't particularly need one.

Morgan gave Merlin that pinched smile that he'd seen Arthur's girlfriend, Gwen, give customers at The Golden Goose Cafe when they told her she had no idea who she was dealing with. Also called the 'booting-you-into-next-Thursday-would-cost-twenty-pounds-an-hour-but-i-am-legitimately-considering-it' face. Merlin ignored her easily. He'd had years of practise doing so.

He plopped himself down onto a teal green sofa with a ketchup stain running up one arm. It wasn't a comfortable seat, but the garish pixie cushion did help somewhat. Morgan paid him no attention, leafing through the thick file which she had retrieved moments before. She paid him no attention for a little too long.

As aforementioned, Merlin was fine with ignoring people. Even enjoyed it sometimes. Unattractive waitresses, bin-collectors, overweight people at the gym, pedestrians. Being ignored, however, was a far less comfortable experience. Probably because it was such a rare one. He coughed into the pasty silence.

"Those your medical records?" The room was quiet enough to facilitate a pin drop sounding like a bowling ball being dropped. A long, controlled intake of breath was easily made out. “Cosmetic surgery?” 

"No." She said shortly, continuing with her browsing, "but they are yours." Merlin quickly stopped ignoring her. "And your birth records and your parents birth records and every other detail of your stimulating life story, Merlin." He short-circuited momentarily.

"That's not my-"

"No, it isn't your given name, but it's what your roommates call you and according to them, the one you prefer going by." Alright, those googly snitches were going to pay later. He recovered from his surprise gracefully as always, but that left him no less indignant.

"I- I wasn't aware that you'd have access to that information."

"Several reliable sources have identified you as being at risk, Merlin, everything in this folder is strictly need-to-know." A smile that could have been genuine spread across her features, and it may have been nice if it weren't so nauseating to look at. He crossed his arms and sunk lower into the sofa, muttering to himself,

"You hardly 'need-to-know' about the name though."

"Obviously, anything said in this session doesn't leave this room and the values and standards of Southend University are to be observed at all times." With quick strides on legs like skipping ropes, Morgan left her desk and placed herself gracelessly on a trademark shrink chair. 

The ‘So, Merlin.’ Was audible on her spindly lips before they left them.

"So, Merlin. First, I'd like you to relax," Difficult, I'm sitting across from a gorgon, I'm a man moments from death, "and tell me about your background, where you're from, your family." He gave her a blank look.

"You just told me that you have a massive file telling you that stuff."

"Yes, but I'd like to know that you also know that stuff. Reviewing your case will prove very difficult if we aren't on the same page. Now, if you please." With an exasperated puff of air into his cheeks, Merlin leant forward so that his elbows braced against his knees and his hands clasped together.

"Fine. I was born in Seoul, South Korea; my parents died in a car accident when I was three. I was brought to England to live with an aunt in Ipswich."

"And you were comfortable with this change?" The interruption caused Merlin to blank for a second.

"Wha- I was three. I was comfortable sitting in a tumble dryer with knickers on my head!" This retort was not appreciated, judging by the tapping of Morgan's pencil against a green clipboard that had seemingly materialised out of thin air.

"These are regulation questions, try not to overthink your answers." With this she returned to drawing writing utensils from the ether apparently, a silent signal for him to continue. Already, Merlin's mind was going through fantasies of sprinting down the hill, across the high street and off the end of Southend pier.

"Alright then, the aunt was arrested when I was six-"

"Why was she arrested?"

"Are shrinks meant to interrupt their patients?"

"I'm not a shrink, I'm a University counsellor, why was your aunt arrested?" Nothing about this experience was relaxing. Getting a Frostino with Miss Delocks, the part-time-assistant would have been relaxing.

"Possession of illegal firearms. Just a taser. Five years in prison under the law of the United Kingdom. Happy?"

"Yes, this is very helpful. So, your guardian was arrested and…"

"I went into care, obviously. Seven foster homes over six years. Adopted after my eleventh birthday by Igraine Pendragon and her husband. I moved into their home in York, Summered in Cumbria; went to school with their son. Igraine died when I was fifteen, Uther when I was seventeen. Arthur and I moved out to one of the cottages we own in Leigh two years ago. It was all perfectly fine and now here I am at Southend University in a counselling session I didn't ask for with a counsellor that I'm certain nobody has ever asked for." Okay, the last bit slipped out half unwarranted, but he might as well be honest.

Long, mole-flecked fingers curled and tightened around the edges of her clipboard, leaving dents in the malleable green cork like it was plasticine.

"Right." Came a snarled response from between smiling teeth. "Now, on to some more current information: Who do you live with during your time at the University?"

"Igraine’s son, Arthur, and the five student tenants who rent out rooms." That felt weird to say. For some reason, whenever Merlin thought about the six other occupants of Stanrocc cottage, it was hard to remember that they weren’t all related in one way or another.

“Right, and are you comfortable with these living arrangements?”

“I’m a University student who gets to live in a fully catered house free of charge, what do you think?” The pinched ‘threaten-to-speak-to-my-manager-again-and-I-will-hit-you-with-a-shoe’ smile returned.

“Okay then.” A rustling of paper signalled that the background questions were mercifully coming to a close, as, Merlin hoped, was this entire experience. Unfortunately, the next words out of the witches’ mouth weren’t, ‘thank you for your time, Mister Pendragon, I hope you and Miss Delocks have a splendid afternoon.’ Instead she intertwined her grotesque fingers and looked him in the eye. The fact that he didn’t turn to stone was a shock.

“Now, Merlin, I’d like to know what features you look for when meeting new people.” Alright, not what he’d wanted or expected to hear.

“Is this a personal interview-”

“Just-” Morgan closed her eyes and pressed her lips together until they completely disappeared into her face. “Answer the question, Merlin.”

“I look for the same things anyone looks for. Do they look approachable? Would I want to be seen with them out and about? Those kinds of things.” He darted his eyes from Morgan’s varicose ankles to her sloping forehead. 

“So, you base the value of other people’s company solely upon their outward appearance and draw any and all judgements from those assets?” There were too many words in that sentence, was all Merlin could think in response. When he did finally puzzle out what the question actually was, he gave the woman a jovial nod. Finally, they were on the same wavelength.

“Of course I do, how a person looks tells you a lot about who they are, doesn’t it?” 

Morgan must have been writing something down, but it still felt as though her eyes had not left Merlin for a second. An intake of breath through her wide nostrils filled the room.

“To some extent, maybe.” She shifted on her chair and the look in her eye of a person who had gotten exactly what they wanted was unnerving. “Merlin, do you think you feel this way about other people because these mentalities could have been forced on you in the past?” Her nasal voice had become one of understanding and professionalism, the Northern accent thinning considerably. Merlin didn’t like it at all. “Maybe you feel as though you personally are liked or disliked for nothing besides how you look?”

Throughout this entire, stupid session, Merlin had been wanting to avoid answering questions. Now all he wanted to do was say something so devastating yet so on point that it would shut this witch up for the rest of her career. And yet his tongue remained still, rooted to the floor of his mouth.

“I see.” The counsellor stood and shook out her skirts with the smug air of a woman victorious. Merlin wanted to throw something at her. Like a shoe. She went around to the back of her desk and retrieved a post-it-note shaped like a unicorn. “I’m giving until the beginning of the new term to combat this problem that we seem to have here." In one motion she ripped away the post it note and was making her way back towards him, brandishing it like a literal curse rather than simply the figurative one that it clearly was. She handed it to him unforgivingly.

"I'd like you to try a social activity that is purely audio based. Interactions with others that don't allow them to see your appearance." The urge to crumple the note into a ball was strong. “I’ll schedule another session three weeks from now.”

"And what if I'm perfectly happy with the way things are? I don't need to change anything." Merlin shot back, and control of the situation brushed his fingertips before Morgan's condescending smile dragged it out of reach again.

"Tell me, Merlin, how many reports do you think I received from your professors and peers of this self-important, judgemental behaviour?" Merlin was already standing as he milled the question over for a full couple of seconds.

"One or two, I'd imagine." He finally mumbled. The witch drummed her pencil against her crossed arms and shook her head. "Well," Merlin started, "it can't have been-"

"Twenty-four." She didn't look victorious now, just a little sorry. That was so much worse. "Twenty-four different people, who you have known for only a year or so. Still think you don't need to change anything?"

Merlin didn't want to look around at her ridiculous face again. He didn't think he even knew twenty-four people well enough for them to report him. Her voice carried on no matter how much he wanted it not to.

"If I don’t see improvement three weeks from now, regardless of how you feel about it, I won't have anything to present against a decision to remove you from your course entirely."

The facts stung like poisonous, green smoke in Merlin's head. He pulled at the ornamented door handle, dismissing himself. Then a question came into his mind and forced itself to be asked.

"What activities would you suggest, then?"

"Start an interactive podcast; volunteer for a University chat-line; Online gaming." Merlin's humourless scoff punctuated her list.

"Yeah, no. I'm not an ‘over the phone’ kind of guy." He stepped out into the hallway and noticed Miss Delocks' head spin in his direction. The last ten minutes had dampened any mood he might have been in for going out, but that didn't mean he couldn't at least try to cheer himself up. He heard one last reply from the witch before he strode off in the assistant’s direction,

"Keep that attitude up and you won't be a "Part-time Ancient Historian" either."

-

In case the presence of a pale pink fiesta with mermaid stickers running along the doors wasn’t indicative enough, the loud guffaws and scattered shouts told Merlin that his housemates had company. This was before he even reached the top of the hill. Night was creeping across the sky already. Merlin would have liked to stay out longer, but the witches’ words had stuck a little too keenly to him, and a college bar surrounded by five beautiful young ladies was not, it seemed, the best place to process things.

Stanrocc cottage was one of a kind really. It was called a cottage because it managed to be too small to be a villa but also too pretty to be a house. The walls were brick, covered in an artsy kind of cement stuff with shells mixed into it, then painted white. Kingfisher blue window frames peeked out from beneath an overgrowth of marble-like gladioli and ballet-slipper foxgloves. The diminutive front garden was mostly taken up by the wild-cherry tree that had looked hurricanes and landfalls in the face, released a string of angry expletives and stayed precisely where it was with zero intention of ever going away. Around its ankles sprung up Snowdrops every Winter, but right now, in the twilight of August, the space was taken up by a hoard of decaying daffodil corpses.

Through one of the windows, a blonde head was just visible. It stood up haphazardly and came to the door when Merlin knocked. Jack appeared in the doorway, but he’d barely laid eyes on Merlin before he was leaning back inside and shouting into the noisy fray, his accent thick, probably from laughing,

“Ee’s back!” With that he left the door hanging open. Merlin entered, a little disgruntled at the lack of welcome, until he got inside and found out why. Seated on the various beanbags, chairs, and sofas, were their usual six occupants, but with them were four less usual ones. Alright, not that unusual, three of them Merlin knew he recognised.

First was Arthur’s fiancée, Gwen. She was a common recurring visitor. Whenever Arthur wasn’t following her around the café, she was following him around the cottage. The other two present were less clearly defined by engagement rings or Facebook relationship status’. 

Upon sitting back down on his very expensive armchair, Jack had one-hundred-and-fifty centimetres of pink-leggings wearing, ashen skinned vegetarian seating herself comfortably on his lap. That one was Viviane… Or Niniane. Merlin never actually paid attention when Jack gushed about her, but he was almost sure her name was one of those. She was Jack’s “study partner'', both of them being up and coming chemists. Funny, because to Merlin’s knowledge, studying didn’t usually involve reclining on each other’s laps; playing with each other’s hair (or her playing with his, at least) and going out on spa trips together. If they weren’t together, Merlin couldn’t blame Jack. All spread-out, round eyes and large lips, she did look a little like a fish with legs.

Lastly there was Briar. Nobody actually knew what Briar was. Was she Hans’ friend? His girlfriend? A kind of omnivorous goat? It was a mystery. Altogether they knew seven things about her: Like Hans, she was German; she took fencing lessons; her wardrobe consisted entirely of ankle-length, floaty skirts and a special talent of hers was tripping over literal air. She slept with a baseball bat, wore purple contacts in her eyes and, while you wouldn’t imagine so from her physique, she had the appetite of a full grown horse. They didn’t even know what she was doing at the Uni. With her legs folded in front of her, she leant on her maybe-boyfriend-maybe-friend’s signature bean bag chair, one hand holding a row of scrabble pieces. The other was surreptitiously burrowing through Hans’ homemade bag of steak flavoured crisps, which famously tasted like dog food to everyone but those two. The curly-headed bag-holder didn’t seem to mind at all.

There was one other girl with them, seated on a folding chair between Briar’s feet and Arthur’s elbow. Merlin gave her barely a passing glance however, taking in a round figure, cherry-pink shorts, and shoulder-length brown hair before he lost interest. 

Maybe you feel as though you personally are liked or disliked for nothing besides how you look.

The counsellor’s stupid voice drove through his thoughts unbidden like an off-rail train. He shook his head and shoved them back down into his subconscious where they belonged, ready to be forgotten. 

The ringing of the words, however, was replaced by his stomach gurgling irritably. A muffin and a salted-caramel hot chocolate were not enough to go on for a whole afternoon. His eyes fell on the Chinese food containers strewn about the coffee table and surrounding floor. A takeaway was a rare occasion in Stanrocc cottage. In the entire county of Essex, there were exactly four fast-food establishments that Hans trusted and respected, and thus, would allow them to purchase from. Two of these were fish-and-chip shops; one- Merlin’s particular favourite- did flame-grilled kebabs; and the last one was the Jade Dragon Restaurant. Very expensive- meaning Jack was probably to thank for it- and very, very good Chinese food. It dawned on Merlin a little late that this uncharacteristic treat might have been meant to make him feel better, judging by the sizeable stack of barbecue kebab boxes that could be seen just inside the kitchen door. Nobody else liked barbecue kebabs.

But he was too tired and too hungry to feel bad for not coming back. He’d been busy.

 The energetic game of scrabble had come to a standstill when his arrival was announced. Now ten pairs of eyes were on him and six of them were concerned. Merlin made for the kitchen, the multitude of expectant faces making his chest knot.

 “Don’t worry about me,” he insisted, half-heartedly when he noticed both Arthur and Hans shifting as if to get up. “I’m going to bed.”

 Noki, the second of the triplets, swept up a container filled with Prawn crackers and extended them in Merlin’s direction. He waved them away dismissively.

 “Really, it’s fine, I’ll grab something from the fridge.” And with that he left the room.

 Much to his dismay, the fridge was a sorry sight, being mostly bare save for half a watermelon and an empty milk carton. It was a Friday, he soon remembered, which meant Hans would be grocery shopping tomorrow. Also, Briar was there.

 Footsteps came thudding along the short passage between the living room and the kitchen. Merlin didn’t have to look up to know that an orange vest with arms was blocking the door.

 “What do you want, Arthur?” Even in the fridge, Merlin could feel the glare in the back of his head. Crossed arms also wouldn’t be a surprise.

 “I want to know where you’ve been, and why you didn’t feel the need to tell us you weren’t coming back?” Merlin finally selected a yogurt cowering at the very back with a best-before date of yesterday. He shut the fridge door with his foot, searching for a clean spoon on the draining board.

 “You know you aren’t actually my dad, right?” He plunged the end of the spoon through the paper covering and started ripping the excess away. “I can go where I want.”

 “No.” Arthur had now moved completely into the room. “But you’re still one of us, mate, and we were all worried. The triplets almost got in the truck to come pull you out of whatever ditch you’d fallen into.” Merlin actually looked him in the face this time. He was scratching his ghost of a goatee the way he always did when he felt in deep water. “You didn’t exactly leave in great spirits this morning.”

 “Lurrk, uum fyrn.” Merlin said through a mouthful of yogurt. The stuff was absolutely repulsive, but it was the best conversation avoidance technique he had without a book to hand. He manoeuvred around Arthur, trying desperately to keep from openly weeping at the foul stuff. The best-before date ought to have been the may-not-kill-you-before date. 

“Yeah,” Arthur sighed behind him. “I can see that. But you’re-“ Merlin dashed up the stairs, discarding the yogurt discreetly in the kitchen bin as he passed it.

Arthur had changed since meeting Gwen. It was like something had been plucked out of him. The thing that had made Merlin feel close to him while everything was happening: The adoption, losing both their parents. It was like Arthur had grown up, changed somehow. And had left Merlin behind.

 And from what he had seen in the other room, Arthur wasn't the only one.

 Merlin emptied the yogurt out of his mouth and gargled mouthwash to get rid of the lingering flavour of overripe strawberries. A knock at his bedroom door interrupted him.

 “What did the counsellor say?” It was Arthur again. Merlin had honestly had enough of today. Why couldn’t everyone just leave him be? He wasn’t hurting anyone.

He poked his head out, startling his friend who still had his fist raised to knock again.

 “She suggested I take up gaming.”

-*-

Hours later, Merlin turned over his pillow again, trying his absolute hardest to fall asleep. He’d tried relaying a movie in his head, but thinking about the ending just made him sad. He’d tried reading his new book, but Neil Gaiman wasn't particularly relaxing. At last he had just shut his eyes and told himself to sleep, with real authority and gumption. That just made him more awake because his brain hated him.

Eventually he sat up and tugged the string on his lamp. The clock on his desk told him it was 2:26. Merlin’s bones told him that he was actually in a void in which time was a construct of society, and he felt much more inclined to believe the latter. Seeing as somebody, probably Hans, had left a plate of reheated kebabs in front of his door, Merlin hadn’t starved, so he couldn’t explain the hollow discomfort that was plaguing him now.

Actually, he could, he just didn’t want to.

Twenty-four people thought he was a self-important, narcissistic idiot.

Walking around his room to clear his head quickly turned into walking downstairs and into the kitchen to get some shreddies. There were still a few chocolate ones left, them mercifully being the one cereal that Briar didn’t love more than life itself.

As he dejectedly spooned the stuff into his mouth, green smoke came unfiltered through his head again, spelling out: I won't have anything to present against a decision to remove you from your course entirely. Merlin groaned and pulled at his bark coloured hair.

Ancient and Medieval History, while not a popular course, was still difficult to get into. Only twelve or so universities in the country even offered it. And even then, Southend alone offered the module on folklore and mythologies. So many essays, so many projects, so much time spent reading about the sordid love-lives of ancient deities. For nothing apparently. All because some people he didn’t know thought he was self-obsessed.

Nothing added up.

And gaming? Really. Podcasts and chat-lines were an instant nope, but gaming. In his entire twenty years, Merlin had played one game and one game alone. And well, that one was…

Next thing he knew, Merlin had left the congealed cereal lonely on the sink and was fighting his way through a wall of cobwebs into the storage room. The lights hadn’t worked in there for years, so Merlin clasped a battery powered torch from Colchester castle like a lifeline.

With his finger and thumb he gingerly shifted bicycles, boxes of DVDs and even a taxidermy rabbit that had gone to holes, until he saw it. The shiny, green corner of a laptop-games-console-hybrid emerged from the darkness. And then was immediately plunged back into it when the torch exploded in Merlin’s hand, the light flickering away with a puff of smoke. Merlin had expected this, but that didn’t stop him from grabbing the game and high-tailing it out of the storage room before the shadows could grab his ankles and eat him. Safe in his own bedroom again, Merlin intrepidly opened the game.

Fairytale Island was created by Avalon Games nine years ago. In its entire run, localised in Southern England, it sold about three-hundred consoles. These consoles were box-like laptops, but a more accurate comparison would be an oversized Nintendo DS. The keyboard-space was taken up by the controls, while the screen was above. Graphics-wise, it was surprisingly ahead of its time. What you did was you uploaded a full body photograph of yourself, lined up the limbs and head, and voila, you had your avatar!

This particular console had been bought by an incredible woman named Igraine, for the eleven year old boy whom she had fearlessly rescued. Merlin ran a finger gently over the sticker, feeling the scratchy remnants of its glitter-glue border. On it was a simple little message, rounded off with a clumsy smiley face and the letter I, in wide swirling print.

For the most handsome Prince on Fairytale Island!!!

Obviously his avatar had to change, lest he wanted to continue with the slenderman-esque creature created by his imaginative twelve-year-old self.

Merlin had to stand on his bed to get himself into the frame of his plug-in webcam. Not really knowing what to do with his arms, he did the only rational thing and T-posed. In his pyjamas. In front of a game for preteens. At twenty past two in the morning. 

If one of his housemates came in now he would kill them and dissolve the body in acid.

The screen counted down, readying the camera.

Three… Two… O-ghlowhfsajfhlsdkhlhdsjfh…………….Error………...rebooting, thank you for your patience.

Well. That seemed fair.

Hopping down as quietly as possible, Merlin watched the static clear from the screen like ghost lightning. He should have expected it. Motorcyclists had long said that ‘Love is when you like someone as much as your motorbike.” Merlin was inclined to disagree, because his bike was the one piece of mechanical equipment that didn’t figure it should explode whenever he dared breathe nearby. No bond would ever be able to trump that kind of loyalty.

Reservedly, he fiddled with a Rubix cube until the screen returned to normal. Nothing seemed that wrong with it.

Until his avatar loaded again.

A brief visit to the bathroom mirror was made so that Merlin could examine both his eyes, but when he came back they found the same sight.

Where there should have been a tall, thin, carrot-shaped, Merlinish mage character, there now resided a tiny, stout- if still Merlinish- one. And it was green. Not even a nice green, like fern or emerald or sage. This was a green that reminded a person of snot and nothing else… Except maybe a dehydrated basil plant.

Merlin bashed his head against the edge of his desk. What had that witch done to him? Why was he concerned about this? 

Giving up on answering that question, he looked up to face the diminutive monster that bobbed in place like an excitable pea with legs. Maybe it wasn’t so bad, he tried to reason. If he didn’t focus, it almost looked like an obese, unwell Gollum. But hey, maybe the other players will like that kind of thing?

Without realising it, Merlin scoffed out loud at himself.

Other players? This game had a range of a thousand kilometres squared and was being handled by a technopollyon (a word that was not a word until Merlin discovered there was no term for a person who inadvertently breaks technology, but there were a multitude of Greek words that he could misuse in its place.)

The chances of another pathetic Englishman within his third of Essex being in possession of and online on Fairytale Island at two-thirty that night, were not worth thinking about. Because they were nonexistant.

With that in mind, Merlin took one last bitter look at his avatar, and continued resolutely on to game.

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Wow! Thanks for reading that!!! I hope you enjoyed it!

(Btw, Gwen, Viviane and Briar are my headcannons for the end credit characters and Morgan LeFey is the fairy princess)

Again, thanks so much. I’m putting the next chapter up at some point, this one from Snow’s perspective.

[victorsandvanquishers]

Body guard for Secre and Lumiere..., the reincarnation reunion we deserve.....

Bodyguard is probably the most popular prompt in my inbox, so I’ve decided to combine these two requests into one! Thank you to @icewitcher and anon for the requests!

The fic will include romantic!Secre/Lumiere and Parental!Secre and Asta, as well as background!AsuYuno and background!Charmy/Rill, all under the Bodyguard prompt. Happy reading, and don’t forget to watch Bodyguard, starring Kareena and Salman! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

~~~

Time moved differently with Secre Swallowtail. She hadn't physically aged after being cursed into a antibird, but once she'd regained her body, the crow's feet came as naturally as the longer hair. She still had the ability to transform into an antibird, and had, after retiring from the Black Bulls and leaving Clover Kingdom, chosen to remain a bird for small periods of time. It was easier to travel in her inhuman form. She could eat from the land, and contemplate in privacy.

There were downsides, of course. If she spent too long as an antibird, returning to her human form could mean spending a full day chopping off the overgrown locks, clipping her nails, and trimming the rest of her body hair. Even though she looked largely the same as she did six hundred years ago, the cells in her body continued to regenerate a bounty of beautiful black hair, and glowing skin.

But Secre disliked long hair, and she disliked pretending even more, so she chopped, clipped, and trimmed the years away.

She'd retired from the Black Bulls seven years after the invasion of the Spade Kingdom, and left Clover Kingdom after Asta died peacefully in his sleep at the tender age of ninety-four. The Spade boy he'd married decades earlier had passed away the year before, and Secre had known that it was only time before Asta went to sleep one night and didn't wake up again. The wails from his grown children began while Secre laid flowers on the ageless skull still standing on the outskirts of the village. She, of course, had known he'd passed the night before, but she didn't think it appropriate to wake the whole house at three in the morning just for that. Asta would have hated it.

He was laid to rest next to his husband, the Spade boy who never took up his princely crown, a boy who became a man, and then an old man who passed away from a heart attack in the middle of game of chess Asta was losing miserably.

Asta had cried about the boy being dramatic until the very end, and the wind spirit wept with him, wailing and begging for her Yuno to come back, to take the stinky shorty instead, and Asta cried with her because the Spade boy had meant everything to them, had meant everything to Asta.

She left identical white flowers on all three graves before she flew away – the bleached skull that still stood sentry after all these centuries, and the two graves of the two orphans who went on to become the greatest leaders Clover Kingdom had ever seen.

*

In a way, Lumiere hadn't been wrong. The world was cruel, even unbearable at times, but it still had its merits.

She met new people along the way, ones who sometimes asked too many questions, and some who didn't even say hello, merely passed her a plate of food and turned their attention back to their book, their own food, and once, a window looking out towards a bleached sky and golden fields. It was the kind of peace Secre hadn't ever experienced before, the peace of anonymity, of mutual respect for life, of living and letting live.

With Asta, there had never been a moment of silence. Secre was an observer more than she was a participant. Zagred had thought her foolish for that, and had been sealed away for his arrogance. She was a watcher, a recorder, someone who existed on the fringes of a memory that had long since faded away.

She was a hateful woman, too. No god of any religion would ever forgive her for making the decision to use a poor, magicless child for her own ends. She'd manipulated his despair and his longing, and she'd used it to her advantage. She'd used Asta – and she'd paid for it by losing Lumiere forever.

Secre had made many mistakes in her life, but never one as egregious as that one. That's why she had to atone – that's why she had to stay by his side until he'd perished peacefully.

She still bled, even if the blood was viscous black instead of smooth red. Lumiere had forgiven her for her transgressions, of course, but Lumiere forgave everything, even the genocide of his own brother-in-law's tribe, because Lumiere was barely a person even when he was alive. He'd always been god-like in her eyes, and perhaps that's why she'd been punished, because Lumiere had been human, he'd just been too kind, too dumb, too full of faith for his own good.

And then there was Secre – five hundred years as a bird, and she'd latched onto the first child that reminded her of a dead dream. She wasn't afraid to admit it anymore, of course. She hadn't just chosen Asta because he'd looked useful, but because he'd also looked the way she'd imagined her son would, because Secre was just as bad as Lumiere, had dreamed big dreams, and then lost everything in the process.

A woman who loved a man she couldn't have, and desired to bear children the man would never have given her – that was the unfortunate tragedy of one Secre Swallowtail. Secre had told Yami Sukehiro her story once, and he'd laughed at her, because who the hell cried over spilled milk?

Who, indeed.

Ten years after Asta passed away, she climbed aboard a ship and left the continent.

*

The decades went by, and her names changed. She continued to chop away at the black locks, and kept her nails trimmed and her wardrobe full of muted colors. She didn't return to the continent until a hundred years had passed, once the dragons had returned and the spirits of the sun and sky had finally awoken, and once the dwarves had returned from the deepest parts of the forests. By the time her wings touched the skies above her home continent, a second moon had appeared in the sky, and the elves of the other continents had deemed her continent safe again.

Kings had come and gone, but the great forest remained a deep green. The skull was still bone bleached white by the sun, but now there were more buildings in Hage, and dwarves who traded pelts for tatoes, and children of mixed heritage who didn't have to live in the forests of the Neutral Zone for fear of persecution.

Asta and Yuno's children's children had born and raised their own children, and now their grandchildren ran the farms, and even the schools, and maybe, just maybe she'd encountered one boy with deep red hair who reminded her a little of the Spade boy who'd sobbed freely on his wedding day to her son, her Asta. Names changed, but maybe souls didn't. Maybe souls always remained, maybe the souls of Asta and Yuno were in every single person inhabiting the bustling village that was no longer a village, maybe even the dwarves who'd emerged from the great forest had felt these souls, the souls of the wizard kings who'd married in front of the whole country and led their kingdom into the future.

“Well, well, well – if it isn't little miss songbird herself.”

Secre turned around to face the demon who hadn't made a sound at Asta's funeral, the demon who now walked freely with its black and white skin, and eyes as bloody red as the rubies that used to adorn Lumiere's crown.

“You're still here.”

“Where else would I be?”

Secre didn't answer him, instead turned back to the human and dwarf children squealing and running around a pen full of clucking chickens, daring each other to pet one of the creatures. She'd never experienced this kind of peace, because she hadn't been raised with love and freedom to breathe. She was born to serve, and serve she did until there was no one left to serve.

“That one,” the Anti-Magic Demon pointed to a short, pretty woman with hair as blue as the sky, “is the dwarf girl's daughter with that crazy human that used to paint pictures of everything. The dwarves can live almost as long as us, you know. The old bat is still around here somewhere, but she mostly stays inside now.”

“What are you still doing here? You got what you wanted, remember?”

The Anti-Magic Demon bristled, but didn't budge. “I'm here cuz I wanna be here – why are you back?”

Secre shrugged. “No reason, seemed like as good a time as any.”

Finally the demon went quiet, and Secre exhaled.

*

Before she'd left, she'd blessed Asta and Yuno's grandchildren with small kisses on top of their little foreheads. She didn't have much money to her name, but she had Lumiere's jewels, old and dull, but still good enough for a pawn shop or a merchant. She'd left them to Asta and Yuno's children before she'd left, and now that she'd returned, she'd expected them to have already paid for someone's wedding, maybe even a house. Instead, Secre found the jewels encrusted into busts of Lumiere, Asta, Yuno, and herself.

Secre stared at her doppelganger, unblinking.

“Is that yer mumma,” Secre heard a loud, squeaky voice say. Secre ignored the voice, and continued to stare at the busts.

“Oi! Old lady! Don't ignore me!”

Secre turned her head in a flash, because she was still inhuman, still two steps from becoming a demon like the Anti-Magic Demon and Zagred, and she was mad, she was horrible, and she just wanted to be left alone.

But the little boy with fat cheeks and stocky legs had other plans for her.

“Don't ignore me, Old Lady!” He fumed. Secre balked at the feisty little child, barely two feet tall.

“Don't bother the nice lady,” called a pretty voice, and it was a voice Secre hadn't heard in almost two hundred years, so she whipped around to face her demon, the demon impersonating his voice.

“Pappy, the old lady is a ghost!” The boy squealed, half horror and half amazement etched on his face as his father plucked him off the ground and into his arms.

“That's not very nice,” said a short man with thick frames, dusky colored skin, and Lumiere's voice.

“Oh my god,” the man gushed in awe, and Secre was barely five feet tall, but she had at least half a foot on the dwarf man, the man who had Lumiere's voice, and Lumiere's aura, and his beautiful, glowing smile.

“Pappy, ghost!” The little boy complained again, and Secre wished she could just disappear, maybe she should disappear, because the more she stared, the more the little boy looked too much like Asta, was too loud, and there was a dwarf with Lumiere's soul standing in front of her, and Secre had wished she'd stayed away, far away.

“Are you the esteemed Miss Nero?” The man began again. “Oh my god, you are her! They said you'd return, but no one knew when! My students at the school, they play games with the antibirds, pretending one of them is you! It is you! I can't believe it! We thought you'd never come home! Have you met the Sister at the church? We've been waiting for you! It's really you!!!”

And Secre drowned, drowned in the liquid gold eyes, drowned in the the beautiful smile, the beautiful voice of the dwarf who'd inherited Lumiere's soul.

*

“Well, now you have to stay. Can't sleep with a single man who's just tryna raise his baby in these trying times – if yer gonna taste the forbidden fruit, then commit.”

“Should I be hearing that from you?” Secre snapped back at the demon lounging on a bed of flowers.

“I'm just sayin', little songbird – when you get to my age, you see it all. You want it all, so why not take it?”

“Because they're dead,” Secre concluded. “A moment of weakness doesn't need to turn into a lifetime of regret.”

“Who said you needa regret anything? He loves you, and his kid calls you Ghost Mommy when he thinks you're not listening.”

Secre flinched, because it's true, because she overstayed her welcome, because she gave false hope to a man who's now hopelessly in love with her.

“Don't think of it as use, and be used,” the Anti Magic Demon chuckled harshly, as if reading her mind. “He had a choice too – to choose to ignore you, and to move on with his life, but the minute he saw you, he fell in love. You wanna say no, then say no, but remember – he chose to be with you, and you chose to be with him.”

“Is it them?” Secre whispered.

“Maybe, maybe not. Does it matter?”

“Secre! Secre, are you out there? Dinner's ready!” Called a voice from far away.

“Lumiere couldn't cook for his life,” she whispered hollowly, wiping tears from her cold cheeks.

“And the little brat never disrespected a woman in his life, but the second that little punk saw you, he called you a crusty little ghost. How's that for a reincarnation?”

“Bird Lady, dinner is ready!” The little boy with the fat cheeks and stumpy little legs screeched louder than Asta ever did, and she cried, she cried because she missed her Lumiere, and she missed the magicless little boy she grew to care for like a son.

“See, little songbird,” the Anti-Magic Demon whispered, sliding closer, so close that he was mere inches from her crying face, its own eyes hollow and cold and lonely, “after a while, it doesn't matter anymore. After a while, we die too, and death – it's a cold, lonely affair. You got nothing to lose.”

“Bird lady?” The little boy called hesitantly, staying some feet back, because the Anti-Magic Demon was the village watcher, the wraith that simultaneously protected and scared the living daylights out of the creatures living in Hage.

Secre wiped the tears from her face and climbed to her feet. “I'll be right there,” she called back, and the little boy nodded once before shooting back to the little house they called home.

“You found your home,” Secre surmised.

The Anti-Magic Demon hummed in response, laying back against the flowers, eyes fixed on the twin moons in the sky.

“Home,” Secre repeated to herself as she made her way back to her little house with her two little dwarves.

It seemed she'd finally found one as well.

[juniperwindsong]

Necessary Monsters (3/16)

Summary: 

"Brought her in on my shift, they did. Thought she were dead! Pale as a corpse - like there weren't no blood left in her - but twitching, like. The way I used to see 'em back when...You-Know-Who's followers were torturing people left and right. You'd see 'em twitch like that when they'd had the Cruciatus Curse used on 'em too long."  

     It takes twelve and half minutes to walk the road leading from the Hogwarts grounds into Hogsmeade, then a matter of seconds to apparate outside the Leaky Cauldron in London.  Add four more minutes to enter the crowded pub, climb the stairs, and wind down the hall to the room at the very end, and Felix has had just enough time to work himself into a respectable frenzy.

    Felix has never been able to pinpoint the exact date he fell in love with Juniper Windsong, so he can't say definitively just how long he's been planning their reunion. But it's been the highlight of his thoughts for almost a year. The perfect evening, carefully orchestrated to show Juniper how he's come to feel about her and persuade her to feel the same. Gone to pieces. 

   He slams the door, the parade of ruined moments and wasted opportunities building enough furious momentum behind his arm to rattle the frame. Throwing his cloak over the room's mouldy winged armchair, Felix runs his fingers irritably through his hair. He should have been more direct, he berates himself, kicking petulantly at one of the chair's wobbly legs. It gives an indignant "Oi!" and scoots away from him, nearer the fire. He had hoped to let his actions explain his feelings for him, even thought he'd done a halfway decent job in spite of the evening's rocky start. But replaying their conversations in his head, Felix fears he wasn't obvious enough.

   Regret beats a heartless rhythm against the inside of his skull as he perches on the edge of the rickety bed. Juniper did want to see him over the summer, he consoles himself, that's something. And she had seemed genuinely excited at the prospect of visiting him. And there was that moment in the common room, their fingers intertwined, faces so close Felix could almost feel the nervous excitement radiating from her. He's positive Juniper had been waiting for him to lean in just a bit more, even imagines her eyes had flicked for a moment to his lips.

   Felix falls back against the lumpy mattress with a groan. All that means nothing if she gets herself killed next year. Felix had so hoped finding Jacob Windsong alive would finally put a stop to her amateur investigations. But he knows with a sinking certainty, in spite of her assurances that she wants to leave the Cursed Vaults behind, Juniper will never be able to escape their web while her brother is still caught in it.

   And even if she survives her last year of school unscathed, he thinks miserably, there's always her excessive number of male friends. Juniper may have little interest in them now, but Felix knows better than anyone how much a relationship can change in one term. 

   His brain bruised by the weight of all the things he cannot control, Felix pulls his wand out from underneath him and points it in the direction of his valise.

   "Accio," he mumbles.

   The bag sails halfheartedly across the room and stalls at the foot of the bed. Felix uses the tip of his shoe to edge it closer to him, his hand fumbling for the catch. He reaches in without looking and, as he does whenever he feels anxious, pulls out a sheaf of parchments wrapped in a leather tie, heavily frayed and dangerously thin in places. 

    He tugs at the crude binding carefully, toying, as he often does, with the romantic notion of finding a ribbon, preferably Juniper's, to replace the leather. But he's never known her to wear any kind of ribbon in her hair. And anyway, Felix thinks as he pulls out a particularly worn piece of parchment, he doubts a hair ribbon would wrap all the way around their collected years of correspondence. He settles back against the pillow and lets the words he knows by heart soothe its anxiously racing beat.  

-

   Since his graduation, Felix has received more letters from Juniper than he can count. This by itself isn't exceptional. He's received many letters, far more than he expected. Former classmates write occasionally with updates on their lives, Barnaby writes regularly for advice, and even his mother sends the sporadic note pleading with him to return home. But it's Juniper who writes with questions about him. Juniper, to whom Felix recounts his days, even the most boring and difficult bits. She has the uncanny ability to read past his affected formality, and  Felix soon discovers there's no one else with whom he can truly be himself.

   After months of rough tenting with bad food and very few actual dragons, it's Juniper Felix complains to, and Juniper who both sympathises and challenges him to stay his course. When he's forced to kill a dragon for the first time in defence of himself and his team, it's to Juniper Felix relays the entire gut-wrenching affair, complete with the horrid guilt he feels and the nightmares he cannot shake. And it's Juniper who comforts him with words like a balm, that he reads through each night to lull himself to sleep. Her letters become the best part of every month, and he begins counting the days until they arrive.

   It's after the end of his first and only relationship, nearly a year ago, that Felix begins picking Juniper's letters apart, studying them as intently as if he'll be tested on their contents. He re-reads everything she's ever written, parsing each word for hidden meaning, anything that might indicate she cares for him as more than a friend or confidante. Some days Felix is convinced he can read love plainly in her words, then the next day he's sure he imagined it. The uncertainty drives him to distraction, until admitting the depth of his feelings actually seems like the less painful option. But it has to be done face to face, Felix decides, that’s the proper way. And after the Quidditch match on which so much of her school reputation is staked seems like the best time; when she'll either be full of high spirits or in need of comfort.

-

   Felix sets the worn letter aside in agitation. It's no good. He's reached a level of anxiety he's only ever been able to soothe by writing to Juniper about it, which he can hardly do in this case.

   An idea appears in Felix’s head fully formed, and he sits up abruptly. Why not just tell her in a letter? Felix had convinced himself love was something that must be discussed in person, that the month spent waiting for a response to such an admission would be unbearable. But he's no longer at the mercy of inter-continental post. Her return letter might even reach him before he left England. And he's always been better able to express himself in writing. 

   Perhaps his prose can do what his actions couldn't and convince her to keep herself safe. For him.

   Reinvigorated by this new plan, Felix scrambles off the bed. He pulls parchment, quill, and ink from his bag, and seats himself at the spindly-legged stool in front of the room's token writing desk. A small window looms behind it, the darkness outside transforming the glass into a black mirror reflecting his face, every line quivering with purpose.

   Felix dips his quill in ink and pauses briefly at the top of the parchment. The ink drips slowly from the quill tip after one minute, and then another, and then several pass without him pressing the point to the page, as it dawns on him that he has not the first idea how to begin such a letter. Which seems impossible; he's composed snatches of letters like this in his head for a year, waiting for the perfect moment to pen them. But now it's time, words seem to have deserted Felix, just as they did in the common room and out on the grounds.

   Because it has to be perfect. That's key. Whatever he writes has to convince Juniper to put aside a quest that's become an obsession, persuade her his love is worth such a sacrifice. And Felix is positive it is. There isn't a person alive, including her brother, who cares for Juniper more than he does. Felix is certain of that.

   A small, confident smile flickers to life on his lips, and Felix begins to write. Haltingly at first. But he finds as he focuses on Juniper’s smiling face, the memory of her cheek pressed against his fingers, the words come easier, and it isn't long before he's pouring his heart onto the page. He confesses to the parchment everything he's felt for Juniper since he was seventeen, allowing emotion to choose his words instead of adherence to any literary form. Felix writes until his parchment is exhausted, then leans back from the desk.

   He holds the letter close to the yellow candle illuminating the desktop in uneven patches and reads what he's written with a critical eye; and then again, trying to see the words from her perspective. With a slight shake of his head, Felix sets the parchment back down and picks up the quill again, crossing out lines and adding words in, until any ordinary candle would have melted into its iron holder and sputtered out.

   By the time the sky outside the window lightens to a steely grey, Felix has finished a draft he likes. Perhaps it would be hubris to call it perfect, he thinks immodestly, but it's certainly close. He folds the parchment with extreme care, as though excess creases may cause her to simply throw the thing away without reading, then tucks it delicately into an envelope and seals it before he can reconsider.

   Flushed with excitement, Felix stands, stretching his cramped fingers. The thought of waiting to deliver the letter is intolerable, but, as he glances out the window at the predawn light, he knows the Post Office in Diagon Alley won't yet be open. The rational voice in his head suggests timidly that he ought to get some sleep, but there's too much adrenaline coursing through him and he's itchy for action. He'll wait in the pub, he decides, have a quick bite to eat and then set off as soon as the hour strikes.

   Felix tucks the letter carefully into the pocket of his rumpled robes, and walks with a bounce out of the room and down the cramped and winding stairs.

-

   Felix wasn't overly familiar with the Leaky Cauldron before two days ago. Necessity has forced him to rent a room there while in England. His father, astonishingly tolerant up till now of what he considers Felix's "rebellious dragon phase", has made it clear in his last correspondence that a transfer to the Romanian Reserve is the final straw, and until Felix is willing to return to his family obligations, he will no longer enjoy any Rosier family benefits. Namely money and a place to live. Since Felix has expected this since he first introduced his chosen profession to his parents, he's only moderately hurt.

   This is the second morning Felix has spent in the inn and pub, but he’s learned he enjoys its sleepy silence as the regulars engross themselves in their papers before ingesting enough food and news to begin chatting with their neighbors. It makes for a pleasant start to the day, and Felix pushes open the door looking forward to a quiet breakfast before he completes his life-changing post.

   Instead, a low thrum of excited muttering fills the room, emanating from the fireplace where nearly all the pub’s early-morning patrons, and even its proprietor, have congregated. Tom has not yet bothered to set down all the chairs from their night-time perches on the tables. He's standing just behind a witch in lime-green robes who seems to be the center of the whispering crowd.

   Felix seats himself on a stool at the bar, casting surreptitious glances over at the furtive group, trying to catch snippets of their conversation. But they insist on speaking in hushed tones, as if their subject is too dangerous to be discussed at a normal volume. Felix finally catches the eye of the barman, who breaks reluctantly away and trots over.

   "You'll be wanting breakfast, then, sir?" Tom asks, his voice friendly, though he continues to shoot longing looks behind him. "It was coffee you took, in't that right?"

   "Yes, thank you," replies Felix distractedly. "Is everything alright?" He looks pointedly at the fireplace and Tom's eyes light up with the thrill of the gossip.

   "Oh, I'm afraid not," says the barman with enthusiasm. "There was another attack up at Hogwarts school last night!"

   All Felix's animated energy freezes in an instant, leaving his limbs stiff and his hand quite unable to lift the cup Tom sets in front of him.

   "You mean... someone else was petrified? I thought that was all over."

   Tom shakes his head happily. "Not petrified no. Apparently, the student was brought to St Mungo’s. The school professors weren't sure what happened, but they’re trying to keep it awful quiet. Winn," he jerks his chin over at the witch in green robes. "Was on duty and just happened to see them bring her in."

   "'Her'?" Felix asks, his throat so dry it comes out a croak. There's hundreds of students at Hogwarts, he reassures his racing heart, there's no reason for it to be -

   "The Windsong girl. You know - the Cursebreaker? Her brother's that one expelled some years back, you might remember him - Master Rosier?"

   Felix vacates his stool and stumbles over to the fireplace where the witch in lime-green robes continues to murmur under her breath to her captive audience.

   "Excuse me," he somehow manages to say.

   The witches and wizards around the fire all look up at him.

   "Did you...did you say you saw a Hogwarts student brought into St Mungo’s last night?"

   The witch called Winn nods vigorously. "Not just any Hogwarts student! Jacob Windsong's sister! The one what's been opening all them cursed vaults up at the school the last few years!" Her voice is subdued but shaking with excitement. She shuffles her chair around to face Felix, clearly pleased for an excuse to retell her story.  

   "Brought her in on my shift, they did. Thought she were dead! Pale as a corpse - like there weren't no blood left in her - but twitching, like. The way I used to see 'em back when..." She clears her throat and her eyes dart about as if searching for hidden spies, before she continues even lower than before, "Back when You-Know-Who's followers were torturing people left and right. You'd see 'em twitch like that when they'd had the Cruciatus Curse used on 'em too long."

   One of the wizards by the fire shakes his head and says something about the mad goings-on of teenagers these days, but Felix isn’t listening. He’s already moving away, lurching between tables and knocking into chairs as if drunk. Ignoring the pub patrons' affronted looks and Tom still calling to him from the bar, he trips out the front door and apparates as soon as his feet hit the pavement.

-

   Felix hasn't been to St Mungo’s since he was a child, and his current visit does nothing to improve his ill-feeling about the place. The lobby is packed, which seems strange to him for so early in the morning. The seats are full of witches and wizards tapping their feet and sighing with poorly-hidden impatience. Healers in lime-green robes walk swiftly to and fro, all headed in different directions, and the queue for the help desk is a dozen people long. There's a sign above it informing those who can read which types of maladies belong to each floor of the hospital. But, Felix realises, since he doesn't know exactly what's happened to Juniper, he has no idea where she might be.

   Blood pumps thickly in his head, making the sounds in the lobby seem oddly muffled as though he's underwater. Felix walks briskly to the information desk and brings his hand down harder than intended on top of the counter. The smacking sound has no visible effect on the bored-looking help witch beyond a quick flick of her eyes away from the hiccoughing wizard in the queue and toward Felix.

   "I'm looking for Juniper Windsong," he says, his voice shaking with some emotion he doesn't have time to identify.

   "Excuse me, sir,” the help-witch drawls tonelessly. "But if you have a question you'll need to queue up like everyone else."

   She gives a barely perceptible jerk of her chin at the line of people now glaring at Felix. One woman's entire face is a vivid shade of pink, and a small child standing with his mother seems to have steam emitting from his nostrils. But none of them appear in any immediate danger to Felix, and he turns back to the help-witch belligerently.

   "This cannot wait. Juniper Windsong. She was brought in last night."

   The help-witch blinks dubiously at him, but something in Felix's voice or face seems to convince the girl her life will be easier the sooner she gets rid of him. She drags a clipboard across the desk toward her with two fingers and glances down at it.

   "I don't have anyone by that name here," she announces, her tone still bored but a slight curl at the edge of her mouth.

   "Yes, you do! You must!" he insists, now almost shouting. Because if she's not here, then that means....

   "Mr Rosier." 

   A cold, quiet, and all too familiar voice stops Felix's rising panic in its tracks. He whips around to find Professor Snape standing by the entrance to a stairwell. "What are you-"

   "Professor!" Felix interrupts, abandoning the help desk and hurrying over to Snape.

   "Is it true?" he asks, suddenly breathless. "Juniper. Is she-"

   Before Felix can finish, Snape grips his elbow tightly and drags him into the stairwell, slamming the door shut behind them. The Potions Master casts his dark eyes around as if making sure they’re alone before answering in a crisp whisper:

    "Kindly do not bandy Miss Windsong's name about in front of so many witnesses. It is important that her presence at this hospital be kept entirely secret. Which is why,” his eyes narrow at Felix, “I must ask how you came to know she was here."

   "I - she - " Felix tries to breathe normally, but the air catches against his ribs, constricting his chest. "A healer. In the Leaky Cauldron. She...she said she saw her - Juniper - last night. She said, she was attacked. But-"

   "How do you know the person speaking was a healer?"

   Thrown by the question, Felix casts his mind back for the details of the conversation that he realizes with a lurch was not fifteen minutes ago. It feels more like hours.

    "Tom! He said she was a healer. And she had the robes, the same color green that the healers wear."

   Snape closes his eyes briefly, nostrils flaring in forceful exhalation. Felix has seen this look on the Potion Master’s face before when dealing with exceptionally dim-witted students, but whether it’s himself or the healer in question with whom Snape is exasperated he doesn’t know, or care.

   "Professor, what's happened to Juniper? Is she alright? The healer said she was attacked, but she didn't say...I mean...she wasn't sure..." Every ending Felix can think of to this sentence causes his throat to convulse.

   Snape considers before answering, his words tinged with frost. “Miss Windsong is alive for the moment."

   A flood of warm relief washes over Felix almost tangibly.

   "But," Snape continues. "she has been very gravely..." He pauses, tongue between his teeth, as if choosing his next word carefully."...Wounded."

   "Why? What happened? Is it something to do with the Vaults? Is she going to be alright?" Felix asks every question that comes to his mind all in a rush.

   Snape says nothing. He scrutinizes Felix closely, and Felix gets that uncomfortable prickle he sometimes feels around his former head of house, as though the professor can see right through him. He averts his gaze, and stares instead at his ink-stained hands.

   Snape's voice, still frigid, but not quite as icy as before, breaks the silence.

   "Follow me, Mr Rosier."

   Snape turns on his heel and ascends the staircase without a backward glance. Felix hastens to follow.

   At the fourth floor landing, Snape throws open the door and proceeds into a corridor crowded with harried healers. Felix, who cuts a much less intimidating figure than the Potions Master, has to push through the lime-green crowd forcefully in order to keep up. Snape turns down a side hall, and then another, longer one, until they reach a deserted corridor with a dirty window marking a dead-end. Snape forgoes the doors on either side, stopping instead in front of the window, daylight just peeking through the streaky glass. He taps the pane on the lower right with his wand, and Felix can hear a very soft click, like a lock being turned. The window swings inward, and Snape and Felix step quickly inside.

   The room is small, only slightly larger than the Hogwarts Artefact Room, with no windows and no other doors. There's just enough space for a solid looking bed, a rather high bedside table covered in potion bottles on one side if it, and a chair pulled up to the other. Felix can see the outline of legs tucked under a white sheet lying on the bed, but the rest of the occupant is hidden by the bulky figure in the chair, who stands quickly and revolves to face the two intruders.

   The man raises his wand directly at Felix, who flinches, though for once it has less to do with the wand itself and more to do with the heavily scarred face of the person holding it.

   "Password," the man grunts. Snape does not bother to conceal his eye-roll.

   "Dragon Heart-String,” he pronounces with very slight disdain, and the strange looking person lowers his wand a fraction. 

   All Felix’s attention is caught up in the man's one electric blue eye that swivels eerily over both newcomers, then rolls right back into his head as if checking on the patient in the bed behind him. He's so distracted by this display, Felix doesn't notice the man's other eye inspecting him suspiciously.

   "Who is this?" the man asks in a gruff voice. "I thought you were bringing back one of the trainees."

     "It seems as though the healers cannot all be trusted,” Snape replies loftily. “One is already blabbing the attack in the pub."  

    The other man swears under his breath.

   "This is...a friend of Windsong's,” Snape continues.  

   Felix isn't sure, but he thinks there's a slight pause before Snape pronounces the word 'friend', and a careful note to his words. But he's too preoccupied to give this further thought. The shock of the room's strange guardian has worn off enough for Felix's attention to return to the bed. And as the man steps toward Snape, the head on the pillow becomes visible.

   If Felix hadn't known it was supposed to be Juniper, he might not have recognised her straight away. She looks like an entirely different person from the vibrant young woman laughing and flirting with him only hours ago. It's as though all the blood has been drained from beneath her skin, leaving her as pale and lifeless as the healer in the pub described. The only part of her with any colour is the uncountable number of angry red cuts decorating her face and the visible portion of her neck and arms. She's so eerily still Felix would be terrified Snape was mistaken about her condition, if it weren't for the slight twitching of  her fingers, curled strangely and lying on either side of her.

   Bile rises in Felix's throat and he has to swallow hard to keep from being violently ill. He’s known Juniper to be injured many times before; she’s famous for it. He’s seen her battered by Devil's Snare, half-frozen to death by cursed ice, knocked about by a dragon. But his memories of those admittedly deadly injuries all include her face set in grim determination or flushed with success. Felix has never seen her like this. Broken and beaten on a hospital bed.

   "What happened to her?" he asks, his voice hoarse.

   "Tortured," the man with the strange blue eye replies matter-of-factly. "Cruciatus curse by the tremors. And the cuts are one of R's signature curses.”

   "R?" asks Felix vaguely, fumbling for anything that will keep his mind from creating a mental picture of Juniper being tortured.

   The man explains irritably as though this should be common knowledge. "R is the organisation after the vaults. They're the ones have been threatening Miss Windsong the last few years."

   "But...how could they get to her while she's at school?" questions Felix, his voice rising. "Surely, there's spells and wards set up to protect the students?"

   "Of course," Snape responds coolly from behind Felix. "But it's been well-established that the defences surrounding school grounds can be penetrated. One has to be inside the school itself for the Headmaster's greater protections to be of any effect. And Miss Windsong was found outside on the grounds. Do you have any idea why she might have been out there, Mr. Rosier?"

  Felix's knees buckle abruptly. He grabs the back of the bedside chair to keep himself from falling to the floor. If his display of weakness elicits any reaction from the other men, Felix doesn't notice. His eyes are shut tight against the emotions threatening to overwhelm him. His voice cracks as he rasps:

   "It's my fault."

   "Excuse me?" The man with the swiveling blue eye whips around to face Felix again, normal eye narrowed. His wand is still pointed aggressively, and Felix half wishes the man would just curse him.

   "I - she - was with me," Felix tries to explain, nausea churning his stomach sickly. The chair is now the only thing keeping him upright.

   "You were with her on the grounds?" the man demands, his blue eye now fixed on Felix as well. "What happened? What did you see? Who else was there?"

   "There wasn't anyone. There was...it was...just us. "

   The weight of the guilt causes something in Felix to snap. He cranes his neck around searching for the eyes of his former head of house, desperate for assurance that this isn't his fault; that Juniper isn't half-dead because of him.

   "I told her not to, Professor, I swear! She wouldn't listen, I couldn't stop her! But...everything was normal. There wasn't anything strange or-or suspicious on the grounds. I didn't - I mean, I - I thought..."

   Snape wrenches his gaze away from Felix, as if his pleading is something painful to watch. But Felix is beyond embarrassment for the moment.

   "Mr. Rosier," Snape responds, still looking decidedly anywhere but at Felix. “I am all too familiar with Miss Windsong's particularly obdurate determination to do whatever she pleases. However, I think we both know you exerted little effort to dissuade her. And it cannot be denied that you are the reason Miss Windsong was out on the grounds alone last night."

   Each of Snape’s words cuts deeply into Felix, like a mirror of the wounds decorating Juniper’s arms. All his defensiveness bleeds slowly out of him, and he sags further against the chair. 

  "If," Snape continues, "you would like to make amends for your foolishness, then perhaps you would be willing to help us now."

   "I - Yes! Of course, anything, what-"

   "At the moment, Miss Windsong appears to be under an enchantment of some kind. Discovering what exactly happened to her and who attacked her may enable us to wake her. We need to investigate, but we also need to keep a guard over her. It is not unlikely that whoever did this may return when they realize their work is unfinished."

   "I'll stay," Felix answers, a semblance of strength returning to his voice. The idea that he'll be allowed to help is entirely unexpected, but a set task goes a long way to reasserting his focus.

   The strange-eyed man looks from Felix to Snape, his face, a map of scars and craters, alight with skepticism.

   "You sure he's up to it?"

   Snape stares hard at Felix until that uncomfortable prickling begins to resurface, but Felix is determined to keep his gaze, to prove he can be trusted. 

   "I believe so," Snape answers. The other man gives Snape a disparaging look before lowering his wand to his side.

   "Fine. If anything happens to her, it'll be on your heads then." He crosses the small room in two long strides and looks back at Felix as he reaches the door.

   "You. No one is to enter this room without the password. The healers assigned to her know it, and they're the only ones I trust. Anyone else tries to get in, stun them and call for backup. Do you understand?"

   Felix nods in affirmation, not trusting himself to speak.

   "Do not take this lightly, boy. Miss Windsong's life may depend on your vigilance."

   Felix straightens with as much fortitude as he can muster. He directs his words to the man in front of him, but they’re really a promise to himself.

    "I won’t let anything happen to her."

-

Read Chapter 4 | View all stories on the Masterpost

[professorspork]

Can you talk a little more about why you found Endgame devastating in a bad way and not a good way?

I sure can! I can talk a lot more, in fact! I’m going to put this under a cut because Ihave a feeling it’s going to get Quite Long (ETA: it is, this is 6k words I amso sorry) so if anyone just wants the tl;dr version, I recommend GaviaBaker-Whitelaw’s excellent article ‘How the straight agenda ruined Avengers:Endgame.’

If you want my own personal take, well. Enter at your ownrisk, here be monsters, etc:

First of all, the very short answer to your question: Itagged this photo as emblematic of all the ways Endgame was “devastating in thebad way and not in the good way” because, if I’m being really honest, Steve and Natbeing queerplatonic life partners (who maybe occasionally fuck but mostly don’t)was my absolute favorite thing about the MCU. (Yes, despite all the words thatfollow hereon about Bucky, I stand by Steve&Nat being my Absolute Favorite,because it was entirely about what was onscreen and nothing about the fanon thatfollowed.) And now it’s Gone and not only is it Gone it was Taken From Me, andI’m salty.

The much longer answer:

What’s maddening is that I honestly loved the vast, vastmajority of Endgame. I adored, like, 92% of it!! It’s just that the remaining8% is the part that’s a) most relevant to character arcs and b) permanent,which leaves me at a bit of an impasse. It’s hard to remember my delight overthe way Natasha laid down haphazardly over old take-out containers whilebrainstorming at her peak adorableness when she’s, y’know, dead. (Which isn’teven my biggest issue!)

I’m going to break it out by character, from most toleast irksome to me so we get the heaviest stuff out of the way and then by theend I’m just shouting on my lawn going “AND ANOTHER THING.” I’m also not goingto go into The Thor Thing, because I think everyone worth talking to is inagreement about that being fatphobic and offensive.

Okay, here we go: 

STEVE

I fucking hate that Steve went back in time to marryPeggy. AND I LOVE PEGGY AND I LOVE STEVE/PEGGY SO I’M SO MAD THIS IS WHERE I’VEBEEN LEFT. I have tried to make my peace with it, I have failed, and I amhonestly not used to being this mad at a fictional character. I know it’suseless to hold it against him—something I’ve been thinking about a lot lately isthat argument some fans make about like “why are you slutshaming X characterfor wearing skimpy armor, she just feels most empowered riding into battle withnothing but a strip of leather over her tits” when like, the characterdid not make this choice, the writers made it be that way—but unlike, say,the characterization of Steve in Age of Ultron, which I can happily disregard becauseJoss hates Steve, Markus, McFeely, Russo & Russo have been the architectsof everything I love about Steve. It’s straight from the source! And soI… I’m taking it personally, though I know I shouldn’t. I feel like Steve turnedhis back on me and left me behind.

Well. Me and Bucky Barnes.

It’s probably no secret if you follow this blog that I’ma big Stucky girl. I have admitted it’s one of my top three ships of all time;my steve and bucky tag is 21 damn pages long. But I promise, I PROMISE, thisisn’t even about that. Regardless of whether or not you think these two are orever were in romantic love with each other, their best friendship is one of themost important and indelible parts of the MCU.

Steve’s emotional arc over the last several movies hasrevolved around his intense obsession with all things Bucky. He bailedon his concert tour, defied orders and became Cap-in-combat to save Bucky in1944. He tore down SHIELD, HYDRA and the whole world for Bucky when he foundout he was alive. He became a war criminal on the slightest chance he couldprove Bucky’s innocence! And then, when they were finally reunited, finally foronce on the same page at the same time, Bucky was taken in the Snap. And so,like. It seems a bit WEIRD to me that Steve’s heartbreak over the Snap isframed as a Peggy thing (see: him looking at the Peggy compass before their first act attack on Thanos; his talking exclusively about Peggyin the Snap support group he runs WITH GAY MEN) when Peggy died a natural deathafter a long life in Civil War and not, y’know, Bucky, his oldest, mostintimate relationship-haver, or even Sam, his best friend. It seems a bit ODDto me that we see dozens of cute, short reunions and meetings in the finalbattle with 2014 Thanos—known Extremely Important Relationships Tony/Dr. Strangeand Peter/Carol are given significant on screen exchanges—but we don’t seeSteve and Bucky reunite with one another. It feels a bit CONSPICUOUS to me thatSteve does not tell Bucky what he plans to do when he goes to take the stonesback, full on SUSPICIOUS to me that the two don’t say boo shit to each other—can’teven stand in the same group together when Steve comes back from histime vacation—and outright UNBELIEVABLE to me that Steve Rogers would choose tolive seventy years of his life without Bucky Barnes.

I just don’t buy it.

I don’t buy that after four movies of you telling me itisn’t the case, Steve Rogers’ happy ending doesn’t include Bucky. (Andwe’ll touch on the whole idea of what it means to have a “happy ending” in abit.)

It feels like a deliberate side-step. It feels like thecreative team tried and failed to come up with anything approaching a normal,just-two-bros reunion scene for them and with the weight of their past intimacyeverything they wrote came off as a marriage proposal so they scrapped itentirely. It’s insulting. Not on a “my ship didn’t go canon” level—I never in amillion years expected Steve and Bucky to ‘get together’ in any concrete sense,I wouldn’t even have known what to do with it if I got it, I never wanted that.All I wanted was for the text to honor the affection, the bond between thesetwo just as much as it did in any of the other movies. One of the best featuresof the MCU is its consistency when it comes to character detail andrelationship nuance. So how on earth (I know how, we all know how) did theydrop the ball on what is literally their flagship friendship?

But it’s not just that Steve goes back in time withoutBucky, or without saying a word to him about it. It’s that Steve goes back intime and then, apparently, does absolutely nothing for seventy years, includingsaving Bucky.

The time travel rules in Endgame are… unique. They areunprecedented. And it’s easy to tell that’s true, because not once have thedifferent members of the creative team been able to give a consistent answer onwhy or how it works in interviews after the fact. So like. I accept that mytake on this may not be the “canon” take, and until we get a post-Endgame moviethat addresses these things there IS no canon take. Regardless of what their “thisisn’t Back to the Future” rules means about whether or not changing the pastmeans changing the future, in the future all of these characters lived Buckywas on ice/doing murders until the events of Winter Soldier, also in which theworld learned SHIELD was HYDRA. The Russos think Steve created his own branchreality when he went back in time, and the question is then how he got back toour world to hand off the shield; Markus and McFeely don’t think that’s true;they think Steve lived concurrently to his own regular timeline and was always Peggy’s husband. YOU WOULD THINK THEY’D HAVE REACHED AGREEMENT ON THIS EITHER WAY BEFORE THIS POINT, BUT I DIGRESS. This meansthat either a) M&M are right and Steve went back in time and neither toldhis new wife Peggy “hey honey, you know that startup you’ve got going withHoward, maybe don’t invite Arnim Zola unless you want your entire legacy to beNazis,” nor did he save Bucky when he knew he was somewhere in Eastern Europebeing fucking tortured and brainwashed. He didn’t stop Howard and Maria fromgetting in the car. There’s a lot of joke tweets about how Captain America just“let 9/11 happen” and like—it’s a joke but it’s also NOT A JOKE--- orrrrrr b) theRussos are right and maybe Steve did all of those things in a branch reality,which they felt no need to mention when they were wrapping up the emotionalstoryline for their marquee character, which is lazy at best and kind ofunforgivable at worst. Even in the Best Version of Events, where not only arethe Russos are right and Steve went back in a splinter timeline, but in thatsplinter timeline Steve co-founded a Nazi-less SHIELD with Peggy and theyfought crime Hart to Hart style, saved Bucky, stopped the Vietnam War fromhappening and cured AIDS, it still means Peggy no longer did everything she didon her own, fighting and clawing for it like a honey badger. And should shehave had to? No, of course not. But is it her defining trait and greatestaccomplishment that she did? YES! This matters to me! Erasing it without givingher a say matters to me!

And the fact that all of this is in doubt is BONKERS. Iwould feel less weird about if they didn’t leave all of it unsaid! If they’dincluded a scene with Bucky before Steve went back where Bucky just went “Steve,listen. I know what you’re thinking, and you can’t save me, okay? It wouldbreak the time continuum or something. Now go be a reckless idiot like I knowyou’re gonna and say hi to Carter for me” it would at least feel like theycared the slightest bit. Hell, if they gave Peggy ANY LINES AT ALL it wouldfeel a heck of a lot more like the reuniting of two characters I love and lesslike a mortifying hetcon where Steve erases all of Peggy’s professionalaccomplishments and canon husband and other family just to have hisfairytale happy ending with a voiceless woman-shaped smilebot.

Do you have any idea how much I would have cried if we’dgotten a scene were Steve showed up at the Stork Club in time for his dance?Peggy doesn’t even need to have A LOT of lines (though she should!) A tearysmirk and a “you’re late” reprise would have gone so far! (Especially if they’dhad a final, heart-wrenching goodbye for closure and then he’d returned to thefuture, giving us the best of both worlds, but what do I know.) But no, EdwinJarvis gets a line in this movie and Peggy doesn’t. She has no say in the endof her story—it’s a decision that’s made at her. She’s a bit player inher own life. Steve isn’t reunited with Peggy, he gets a dance with the idea ofPeggy. But like. The real Peggy is brash and terrible at emotional honesty! Shewould be a nightmare to be married to! So is Steve! That’s why I love them,they’re awful! And it just feels like all of that was erased in a moment infavor of a vision of unsustainable hetero bliss.

(Honestly, the way I make peace with this is by thinkingthat after maybe six months with Peggy they were both like “oh godwhat were we thinking, this is never going to work” and broke up, and thereason Steve didn’t tell Sam his wife’s name is that it wasn’t Peggy andhe’s too embarrassed to say so.)

And like. I’m trying not to feel like an awfulbitch/bitter old crone about it, because the thing I keep circling back to inconversation with others is them saying “can’t you at least be happy for himthat he’s at peace? Don’t you think he deserves to rest? After everything he’s done,shouldn’t Steve get a chance to be happy?”

Listen. Do I think Steve deserves a chance athappiness? Yes. Do I think Steve Rogers actually has the capacity forsustainable, long term happiness? … Honestly, no. That’s one of the reasons Ilove him.

Steve is miserable. His life is hard, he’s got PTSD, hehas trouble adjusting even in the best of circumstances. But he’s a fighter.And the reason I admire(d) him so much is that no matter what life threw athim, he was relentless in his forward momentum. He had to go on, he had to keepstanding up for others. He didn’t know how not to. Does this mean he needs ashit ton of therapy? Yes, it does—and the therapy is better in the future, Imight add! But like. As much as the creative team keeps going on about howtheir overall arcs were “Tony needed to learn to be more selfless, like Steve,and Steve needed to learn to be more selfish, like Tony” I think there’s adifference between learning to grasp happiness with both hands in the unlikely,miraculous event it comes your way, because it’s brief and shining and worthcelebrating, even though it comes with heartbreak, and just… noping out of yourlife and ignoring your problems for seven decades while everyone else worriesabout it. I’ve never seen Steve sit still and keep himself out of trouble forseven minutes—now I’m supposed to believe he managed it for seventy years? Hewas Peggy’s weird secret attic husband no one knew about? I respected him,loved him, and identified with him—I felt represented by him—because not onlydid he have to fight for every scrap of happiness he’s ever had, he felt likethere was honor in that fight. That’s why Mjolnir declared him Worthy!! And forhim to then lay down his responsibility and NOT FIGHT for 70 years momentsafter being given that distinction… it stings.

I appreciate my happy endings when they’re hard-won. Thatoften means they’re bittersweet. And if Steve’s ending were framed that way—yes,he got back his Era and he got the girl, but he lost his best friend, his foundfamily, and any determinedly-etched-out balance—I might be more okay with it.But it’s presented as the uncomplicated ride off into the sunset he deserved,and… I don’t want my stories uncomplicated. Steve Rogers is not anuncomplicated man. I know a lot of this is YMMV and I’m maybe a bit more darkin my tastes than others, here—hell, I think it’s cheap that the Elrics got alltheir flesh back AND Mustang got back his sight in FMA:B, that feels like toohappy an ending for me—but telling me that what Steve’s really wanted allthis time was to have a house in the ‘burbs and chill doesn’t resonate. Steve’swhole thing since Day 1 was “how can I sit idly by while other men risk theirlives? I can’t stand that.”

It feels like a How I Met Your Mother ending. If Stevehad had the option to go back at the end of Avengers 1, I’d have bought itcompletely that he’d take it (both for character arc reasons and for “he didn’tknow Bucky was alive then” reasons). But he’s not that guy anymore. Yet itseems like they decided a long, long time ago that Steve was going to go backin time and get a do-over, and years of development, growth, moving on andbonding with other people be damned. Who cares if Steve got Bucky back, whocares if Steve got Sam back, who cares that he’d lived 13 years, his entireadult life, in the future? Nat’s dead, might as well go back to the other damewho liked him!

And. And here’s the thing. If everything else were equalbut Bucky and Peggy’s roles were reversed—if Peggy fell from the train, and itwas Bucky who founded SHIELD with Howard; if Steve met Bucky again as adementia-ridden old man and Peggy were the Winter Soldier, if it were PeggySteve spent all these movies desperately trying to save and nurture—I feel likeeveryone else would find it REALLY WEIRD if Steve went back in time to do itall over again with Bucky! That’s not a question of romance, or gender. Not forme, who loves all of these characters equally. It’s a question of the emotionalarchitecture the story is built upon.

Historically, every decision Steve’s ever made in theentire time we’ve known him has been about Bucky. And for this ending to work,it requires us to either ignore that, or think this single-minded focus wasnever about Bucky at all—that it was instead a sublimated love where Buckybecame a signifier for Peggy or the past Steve lost, instead of a person in hisown right, the person Steve’s always chosen and who’s always chosen him, sincethey were kids. Til the end of the line. Asking me to believe that is a)horrible, and cruel, and frankly homophobic and b) simply untenable—I don’t thinkthat the plots of First Avenger, Winter Soldier or Civil War stand up to thatreading.

And even in the kindest reading of all of this—that Stevedeserves to return to the time he was stolen from, because it’s his TrueTime and Peggy’s his True Love—then my god, doesn’t Bucky deserve that, too?Steve was an orphan with, after Bucky’s “death,” ONLY Peggy and I guess theHowlies to tie him to the world. Bucky has a family! He’s got sisters! Theythink he’s dead! If Steve deserves this, doesn’t Bucky, after everything he’sbeen through, deserve it too? If it applies to one of them, it applies to bothof them, doesn’t it? No matter which way you slice it? (For the record, if Stevehad taken Bucky back to the past with him I'd still be scratching my head aboutthe timeline bearing out—and I think it would make the Sam!Cap offer even morekind of paltry and afterthoughtish than it already is, Sam deserves FIREWORKSand A CROWD damn it, and it also deserves to be a decision not made AT him, seeabove—but at least I could be like “yeah, that's exactly the kind ofhilariously not-thought-out decision Steve would make, have fun kiddo.”)

But I guess Steve inviting Bucky on his Happy Ending Tourof the past would be too much like a fucking proposal so, uh, no, we don’t getthat.

NATASHA

Here is a top ten list, in no particular order, called “I’dbe fine with it, but.” 

1. I’d be fine with it—Natasha is a hero, and she deservesa hero’s ending, she merits going out in a big swing to save the world—but she’sstill the Smurfette, man. It means something different to kill your only original female leadthis way than it does to kill a male character. It especially means that whenyou kill her in the exact same way you killed Gamora—THE OTHER SMURFETTE—onemovie previous. It feels cheap, and it feels callous. M&M&R&R havetalked a lot about the woman/women in the office who read a draft where Clintdied instead and said “DON’T YOU TAKE THIS AWAY FROM HER” but a) tbh I feellike maybe they were reading a different draft than was ultimately shot, thismovie evolved a lot over the years and b) when you’re the Token Girl, your storyis more than just yours. In a franchise of this scale, it’s just… it’s notequal yet. If the circumstances had been utterly different, if Nat haddied wielding the Infinity Gauntlet, at least it would be novel. And like—I amnot the kind of person who thinks standing against Bury Your Gays means no gayscan ever die or else, for example; sometimes a Good Death is warranted if it’swell-written enough—but again: it’s the “she feels empowered in that skimpysuit” thing. You didn’t HAVE to create a murder cliff that only exists forfemale characters to die for the men who love them. You made that choice. It’speak “why do we even have that lever?!”

2. I’d be fine with it—Natasha loves Clint, of course shewouldn’t let him die for her, not when he’s fighting to get back his family—butit would have made more sense for Clint to die as penance for all of the ninjamurders he did after losing his kids than for Nat to die because she can’t haveany. It feels like it privileges bio family over found family in a way that’skind of dismissive and gross, and it calls back to the mortifying line in Ageof Ultron were Nat referred to herself as a monster over her infertility. And theargument that Clint couldn’t die, there’s a Hawkeye Disney+ series falls flatwhen Nat has a MOVIE coming out and Vision also has a Disney+ series and yetis, as of this moment, still dead.

3. I’d be fine with it—Natasha loves Clint, of coursethey’d bicker over who would jump—but when the “dramatic” scene that precedes amajor character’s death resembles nothing so much as this comic, you’re doingit wrong. I shouldn’t be giggling over their antics right before someone fallsto their death.

4. I’d be fine with it—Nat did it for her family, whomshe loves—but her family didn’t even honor her back, and that’s bullshit. Tonygets a massive funeral and Nat gets nothing? I admit that what I trulywant for her—a long sequence of RENT-style “what Angel meant to me”testimonials—would have been a bit weird to include pacing-wise, even if I dothink if I asked Chris Evans and Jeremy Renner nicely over twitter they’dprobably improvise one for me anyway. But it didn’t have to be that. A singleshot in a montage would be enough. A shot of Clint, Laura, Fury, Steve, Sam, Okoye and Pepper doing a shot of vodka together and pouring one out for Nat would havebeen enough. Simple, elegant, gets the point across. It’s not hard!!!

5. I’d be fine with it—they needed to get the Soul Stone,for skimpy outfit reasons someone had to die, I get it—but then Steve has toput all the stones back to reverse the heist and stop the branch timelines fromcollapsing like The Ancient One warned about. How the fuck do you return theSoul Stone? And Steve could, wouldn’t that cosmically mean we get Nat back? Asoul for a soul, isn’t that the deal?

6. I’d be fine with it—I understand that playing the longgame and forcing yourself to fall in love with Red Skull so you cansacrifice him, though hilarious, is not actually a solution—but it just seemslike there are other ways to write around this moment. Nat and Clint have bothlost so much, sacrificed so much. That doesn’t count? This isn’t like Thanos,who’s never sacrificed a thing in his life. Nat’s given up so much for thecause; Clint lost his family. The Soul Stone couldn’t just sense that?Or—what if they’d jumped together? Full Rose and Jack, “you jump, I jump,right?” Refusing to be separated. What would the Soul Stone math be then? Ifeel like it would have been a cooler story to find out.

7. I’d be fine with it—ScarJo needed a way out of hercontract, after the Black Widow movie (which: how they’re going to make thatwork is a whole other rant I do not have time for here)—but killing Natasha inthe one irreversible way in a damn comic book franchise just feels soneedlessly final. If you’d said “after everything, after holding the Avengerstogether for five years with nothing but the force of her will and some peanutbutter and jelly sandwiches, she’s tired and disillusioned with it and wants toroam the world for a while without the team, maybe fight some normal crime fora bit” and had her phased out quietly I would have understood! It would havebeen fine! Preferable, even!

8. I’d be fine with it—I don’t think it’s total bullshit whenM&M&R&R say that this was the end of her arc, she’d found herfamily and become a true hero—but the implication that death is the only way toend an arc is lazy and, in this case, hurtful. It comes off as “we couldn’tthink of anything else to do with her, so we killed her.” You can’t do betterthan that? Tony and Steve were gone. Natasha ran the Avengers, andpulled Nick Fury duty on top of it, for five years and death is the onlyend of her arc? Again, I know ScarJo’s contract is up, but that answer is justoffensive. In a perfect world, given the circumstances you’ve described the endof Nat’s arc would be continuing to lead the fucking Avengers.

9. I’d be fine with it—maybe all those office ladies wereright, maybe it would have felt pandering and sexist and deflating if Clint hadstolen Nat’s moment and died for her—but it’s kind of conspicuous that thereare only two female leads in this movie, Natasha and Nebula, and when both trulyexhibit their agency in their climactic moments, they choose to die. And Nebulakilling her past self to save Gamora is one of my favorite moments of the film!But god, there’s more to female agency than suicide, right?

10. I’d be fine with it—the way Steve cries when he findsout is gratifying and in-character—but Tony’s question of “Did she have anyfamily?” is fucking horrifying. You know she doesn’t, Tony, Jesus Christ.It was a sloppy, lazy setup just so Steve could say “Yeah. Us.” Which wasfucking unnecessary because we know that, that’s why she died for you. (Thecomedy reading, which is that Tony was implying she, like Clint, had a secretFarm Family is hilarious but, y’know. Not the right time.)

And speaking of the sir himself…

TONY

This one is a big case of “it’s not what you say, it’show you say it.” I didn’t expect Tony to get out of Endgame alive. (In fact, Ihad braced myself for a total party kill for the original six, which, if it hadbeen a TPK, I would have felt way better about it tbh. If they’d gone down one byone Rogue One style, at least the playing field would be even; that wouldremove a lot of the sting.) Tony’s the bedrock, he’s where we started, and ofcourse this would be the end of his road. He was going to go out big, he wasgoing to save the world. I knew that was the deal.

But they also gave him a little girl.

To my eyes, you can give Tony the ending he deserves—the endingwhere he and Pepper get to settle down, where he gets to be the father he neverhad, the one where he’s finally stable, finally at peace—or you can giveTony the Ending He Deserves—the one where he, the flagship, the starting pistolof the MCU, gets to vanquish Thanos saying “I am Iron Man.” Epic.

You… you lose me when you do both.

Here’s where I get my hackles up:

Were there any other outcomes you considered for Tony?

MARKUS No. Because we had the opportunity to give him theperfect retirement life, within the movie.

McFEELY He got that already.

MARKUS That’s the life he’s been striving for. Are he andPepper going to get together? Yes. They got married, they had a kid, it wasgreat. It’s a good death. It doesn’t feel like a tragedy. It feels like aheroic, finished life.

It is a fucking tragedy! Pepper is left alone with a fiveyear old girl! Pepper does not get a perfect, finished life. It’s a gross,reductive, alienating view of fatherhood, which is all the more starkly (punintended) contrasted when you compare him to Scott, a good dad whoactually gives a shit that he missed out on three years of Cassie’s lifein prison and then ANOTHER FIVE in the Quantum Realm. Honestly, this is whathappens when you don’t let women write these movies—the characterization formen suffers, too, not just women. Because it wasn’t even a factor to them.Like. They literally cut a scene from the movie where a vision of Morgan fromthe future absolved him of guilt for leaving his family behind. That’s… reallyawful, fellas. Surely you can see how awful that is?

I want to feel good about Tony’s death. I want to feelinspired. Part of me does. But god, that little girl. God, Pepper.

But then, it’s pretty much par for the course. Because it’sworth it to talk about 

WOMEN

This isn’t about how the one “Girl Power” shot wasshallow fanservice instead of substantive representation, how it makes no sensein the plot of the moment, or how it’s a totally empty gesture unless they planon giving us an A-Force movie (though all of those things are true).

It’s about how this movie has a gender problem in whichthe vast, vast majority of female characters got to be “badass” by bucklingunder the will of their male counterparts—and those who didn’t mostly justweren’t in it enough for that to be true.

Peggy doesn’t get any lines; she is presented not as thestrong, capable individual we know her to be but as a storybook reward forSteve’s good behavior after all these years. She is a prop, not a person.

Pepper is, for the thousandth time, defined as strong andcapable because she’s able to withstand all of the crap Tony puts on her. Ilove Tony/Pepper, I think they’re the beating heart of the MCU, their screwballenergy left a positive and indelible mark on the MCU that redefined how loveinterests work (well, barring Betty Ross, I’m so sorry Betty your movie isawful and you deserved so much better). But like. Tony gives her a company whenhe doesn’t want it anymore, he gives her a suit even though he knows she’s notinterested, he talks her into having a child together and then he leaves herbehind. Pepper is like an amazing, super intense version of one of those cookswho up-cycles leftovers into new, amazing, even-better-than-the-originaldishes. But she shouldn’t have to be, and she deserves better.

The same goes for Valkyrie, who is literally handedthe crown of Asgard for no other reason than because she’s there. It’s notthat she’s not capable, it’s not that she doesn’t deserve it, and it’s not thatshe won’t do an amazing job, but again: it’s a decision made at her. Why isthis still happening? (See also: Sam!Cap, and another way that Sam is stillgetting the Love Interest treatment after all of these years).

Carol was underused, and utilized entirely as a Deus ExMachina instead of as a person with feelings every time she did show up. Whileshe has the raw power to back up that plot usage, aside from her little smirkand “hey, Peter Parker,” we got almost no humanity from her. It’s not like theMCU is bad at establishing loads and loads of nuance in just a few lines—the massivejuggernaut that is Clint/Coulson shipping was launched when they exchanged twosentences to each other!—so it doesn’t feel like a lot to ask that Carol bein the scenes she’s in. You know?

For the most part, I really love how they handled Gamoraand Nebula, but the fact that 2014 them were Super Team Thanos flies directlyin the face of where both of them were at the start of GotG—and for Gamora tochange her mind after learning that in the future, she and Nebula are trulysisters when it’s Nebula who always wanted that for them is… a littlereductive. This was Their Movie—five more minutes to really tease out thenuance here would have really gone a long way.

Plus there was that whole scene where Frigga was like “actuallyit’s fine if I die; I’m just glad you’re okay honey. I feel so empowered inthis skimpy outfit. It has to be this way!” If Nat didn’t die the way she did, this scene would read differently! But she did! So it doesn’t!

Okay. Okay. I’m sure I’ve forgotten things that botheredme, but I have to stop somewhere so it might as well be here. In fact, here’s alist of things I really liked, to remind us all that I did like this movie:

America’s ass! “I could do this all day”/“I know!” ThePB&J cut diagonal! Cooper’s baseball mitt! Tony and Nebula playing PaperFootball! Nebula and Rhodey being best friends / “he’s an idiot!” Clint and Natforehead touch! Nat lounging on the takeout containers! When Hope calls Steve ‘Cap’and Scott gives her a little Look about it! Instant Kill Mode! Bruce and TheAncient One talk metaphysics—and the fact that Bruce is what is astrallyprojected out of Hulk! The redo of the elevator scene being subverted with “HailHydra!” Tony and Howard! Rocket’s much-needed frank pep talk to Thor! Ding dongditching 1970 Hank because he deserves that and so much worse! Tony revisitinghis Age of Ultron mentality at his lowest—frankly, it made me buy it in a wayall of AoU didn’t! Nebula murdering who she used to be so she can becomesomething new (let the past die, kill it if you have to amirite?)! Theindulgent credits sequence with the original 6 and their autographs! Quill’sface when he saw 2014 Gamora! TIME HEIST AS A CONCEPT LBR. Everyone’s funeralfashion choices, some of which are patently Bonkers! Smart Hulk having to riphis shirt off and pretend to enjoy smashing to blend in in 2012! The whole tacosight gag outside the compound! I love you 3000! Scott reuniting with Cassieand saying “you’re so big” instead of “you’re so tall!” Steve being Worthy!Thor doing a self-Fastball Special by hitting Mjolnir with Stormbreaker! YIBAMBE!

I don’t think I have ever cried as hard as I didwhen Sam said “on your left” and all of the Snapped heroes came back in Strange’sportals. Desperate, sobbing, joyful, elated, transported, awe-filled GASPINGkind of crying. I could hardly breathe. I really freaked out the guy next tome, I’ll tell you that.

I’m upset because these movies are good. This movie isgood. It made me feel… I don’t think I can describe the acute, painful ecstasyof that moment as long as I live, when everyone I loved, everyone gone,returned and returned and returned. I’m tearing up just describing it to younow.

I say these things because I care. I say these thingsbecause I don’t want to stop caring, and when characters I love are written inways I cannot understand, that I cannot abide, I am removed from the equation.And I am the damn target audience for this fucking movie. What I think matters.And it matters that I say it.

If you actually made it this far, I am very impressedwith your fortitude, and I thank you for coming to my TED Talk.

[everythingjonsa]

Episode 1 - impressions Part 1

I’ll start with the opening credits. I love having Kit sandwiched between Emilia Clarke and Sophie Turner.

And I’m almost sure I saw two dragons facing each other in one of the rings of the citadel.

And wohoooo!! ARYA STARK. I screamed when she came onto the screen. All praise to Maise for displaying her brilliant talent in acting when she sees Jon. And maybe I’m wrong but I got Gendrya vibes right from the beginning, lol!!

Ok, so it’s pretty clear that the northerns don’t like the southerns. And boy did Emilia emote well in that scene.

You can literally see that Dany hates being unwelcome UNTIL her dragons roar and screech from above and the people scatter in fear - AND that more than anything else give the mother of dragons a reason to smile. She feels empowered, confident and marches along with a smug look on her face.

10 points to dark Dany! I love how the show runners have reiterated the fact that Daenerys derives her power from her dragons.

Jon and Bran have a great reunion. Forehead kiss is a parallel to their goodbye kiss in pilot. It was a great reunion.

Now we come to the Jonsa hug. It was very brief and did not give out any romantic vibes to me.

But here’s the thing...

This hug has been filmed from various angles for sure. Because the hug that we got to see in the earliest clips of season 8 has been filmed from a different angle than what was shown to us. My question is why?

Anyway Sansa gives Dany an epic brush off and Dany doesn’t like it one bit. We see that tension continue in the great hall where it also appears like a great love triangle is being framed.

Sansa brings the topic of food again and rightly so. Dany snubs her and they exchange an icy cold look. With Jon sandwiched in between them. This is getting better and better, mind you!!

The northern lords pull Jon up for bending the knee.

Sansa gives Jon a “Don’t look at me, I warned you, you idiot.” Look - and I simply loved it.

Jon very unwittingly tells his people that he was given a choice to retain his crown or save the north and he chose to do the latter. That’s not a very good way to introduce the new queen to your people. He basically tells them that she asked me to bend the knee or f@&₹ off.

Obviously, it doesn’t endear her to his people.

Then Tyrion adds fuel to the fire by giving them information about the Lannister army heading north which causes an uproar.

ONE CAN JUST LOOK AT THE EXPRESSION OF UTTER DISBELIEF ON SANSA’s face and figure out that right now- she’s the cleverest player of the game. She knows Cersei, she knows the way her mind works. She was not kidding last season when she said that to Jon and he’s about to learn a lesson about her “smartness” very soon.

The Tyrion and Sansa scene was brilliant too.

“I used to think you’re the cleverest man alive”

It kinda summed up their entire conversation beautifully. She’s learnt to be smarter than Tyrion. Well Full marks to Sansa Stark! I can’t wait to see the look on Tyrion’s face when they get to know the truth.

Sansa is the YAMBQ. Definitely.

The Jon and Arya reunion was awesome!! I have no words to describe it, really. It mirrored their hug from season 1. And Jon’s expression when he hugged her was fantastic - so emotional, so my baby sister like!!

Now I’ve seen some people who’re disappointed with Jon telling Arya that he could’ve used her help with Sansa. I’ve always maintained that Jon hasn’t explored his feelings for Sansa so to me it appeared like normal sibling banter. Jon’s not bitching about Sansa. He’s just saying, “Hey little sister, where were you when I could’ve used some help on my team?” It’s harmless according to me.

But what was beautiful is the way Arya defends Sansa!! I screamed so loudly, my kid got scared 😟 lmao!!

But it was a beautiful moment.

“She’s the smartest person I’ve ever met.”

Yaaaaaaas girl!! I’m all here for sister love.

Also, when Jon tells Arya, “I’m her family too.” And Arya responds with a “Don’t forget that.” It almost sounds as a warning of sorts and a definite foreshadowing for the future.

Now to the dragon riding scene between Jon and Dany. Since there are many aspects to this scene, I’m going to deal with it Part by part. Boy is this going to be a long post or what!

1. Tyrion, Davos, Varys

Davis explicitly tells Tyrion that Dany will have to “earn” the loyalty of the northerns and the wildlings. And he has a solution-

What if the seven kingdoms were ruled by a just woman and an honourable man?

This episode was very important for it asks all the right questions. The above is the first one that’s of utmost importance.

Obviously, he means a marriage between Jon and Dany

a.k.a Marriage between A Stark and a Targaryen

As a means of earning the loyalty of the north!!

The seeds of a political marriage between a Targaryen and a stark narrative have been sown.

Which means a Targaryen to a Targaryen marriage is not going to work if the living survive their fight with the dead. Need I say more?

Besides, Varys rather tragically looks sideways at Jon and Dany, the handsome couple and says,

NOTHING LASTS

2. Jon and Dany’s conversation about Sansa.

It’s important to note that Dany brings up ONLY SANSA in this conversation, when all of the northern lords threw shade on her. Plus, Bran was rather cold to her too. He simply glares at her and tells her about her dead dragon.

For some reason however, Dany singles out Sansa’s dislike for her which irks her the most. Even in Jon and Arya’s conversation, Sansa’s dislike for Dany is brought up. The show’s trying to make a point.

So anyway Jon tries to make a joke about how Sansa didn’t like him much either when they were growing up WHEN suddenly dark Dany resurfaces ...

I don’t want her to be my friend. But I AM HER QUEEN. If she can’t respect me............

WHAT WILL YOU DO??? I was asking the television screen.

It was a very pivotal moment. The show runners don’t allow her to complete her threat and for a moment there we see a glint in Jon’s eye. I don’t think Jon would’ve liked whatever Dany would’ve said next. It was essential to the plot that she didn’t tell Jon what was on her mind.

Simply because of what was coming next.

2. Jon rides Rhaegal

So in all the fictional books I’ve ever read until now which have dragons in it, the dragon always chooses the rider.

We saw that happen with Jon and Rhaegal today. Rhaegal ( his father’s namesake ) moves towards him and almost gets Jon to touch him. It’s essential to note these points about the dragons.

a) They are clearly visually different at this point of time. Rhaegal is green, Drogon is red.

b) They are virtually the same size now. Rhaegal has grown in size and I’m sure that’s been given importance because it will be important in future.

So Jon learns to ride a dragon and by the end of the ride he can maneuver a dragon on his own.

They go to a frozen waterfall and you can hate me all you want but the kiss did look genuine to me. Jon’s eyes were closed shut. But then again like every Jon and Dany romance scene in the past, there’s always a bit of negative foreshadowing.

Drogon glaring at Jon and vice versa whilst Dany had her back turned, was the continuation of the same theme.

JONSA

The scene between Jonsa in her solar was reminiscent of their tent scene from the battle of the bastards. They argue, huff and puff a little and speak their mind. Jon asks Sansa to have faith in him and Sansa asks Jon if he bent the knee for love? Jon doesn’t answer. Sansa doesn’t look like she likes the idea very much.

I also felt like Jon was caught off guard by Sansa’s observation. It was interesting and I’m sure there’s more to come. Again I could be wrong but this exchange between them just furthers my belief that whatever feelings Jon and Sansa have for each other lay hidden and unexplored. They still don’t know the truth about Jon’s parentage. Well, Jon knows now.

To be continued....

[azurefanfics]

A Little Surprise

Pairing: Namjoon x Reader

Genre: fluff

Warnings: fluffiness

Word Count: 2k

A/N: Hello! This is my first fic for this fandom (and the first time I’ve written in about two years) so any feedback will be much appreciated! This is just a short little oneshot for Joon’s birthday that I’m trying to use to ease myself back into writing, I hope you enjoy!

Your husband was heading back to Ilsan for his birthday. It wasn’t often that he was blessed with time off, let alone some that overlapped with his birthday, so he thought it would be a nice change of pace to head back to his home town and spend the day with his family. Unfortunately, work commitments had prevented you from heading to the suburbs with your husband. You had been extremely apologetic and tried your best to get out of it (to no avail) but your husband, being the sweetheart that he is, understood completely. He knew that these trips didn’t happen often, but when they did they were extremely important. The fact that you’d arranged to take the weeks before the meetings off to go on a tour around Europe didn’t hurt either. You two had the time of your lives together, visiting all the tourist destinations, admiring the culture and sampling the food. You went everywhere from Venice to Wein to Copenhagen, soaking in the beauty and the history of the places whilst simultaneously revelling in the relative peace and refreshing anonymity that these destinations had granted you. Your husband’s job has meant that you often struggled to find privacy and couldn’t have dates in public areas. But in these places you were nothing but another young couple strolling through the romantic city, free to do and explore as you pleased. You’d both arrived back in Korea with hearts full of love and memories to last a lifetime. 

A week later, when he was headed to his parents’ without you, he found that he did not feel disappointed but instead immensely grateful for the time you were able to spend together. He hadn’t been able to spend his birthday with his family since pre-debut, so obviously he was welcomed home with open arms. Unbeknownst to him, his sister Kyungmin immediately got down to business and began planning a surprise party. As he spent his days wandering around Ilsan indulging in nostalgia, she was busy gathering supplies, inviting his friends and scheming with you. Although you were on the other side of the world, you had been doing your best to hurry along proceedings at work. You’d rescheduled some meetings and worked gruelling hours for days, often working 18 hour days with no break. Your schedule was jam packed, but you were painfully close to wrapping the deal that had been the goal of this trip. Although you were overworked and certainly on the verge of burning out, it would all be worth it to see the look on Namjoon’s face.

The day of the party arrived quickly, all the preparations had been made and Kyungmin was practically vibrating in anticipation. Namjoon, for his part, was completely oblivious to the plan and was just enjoying the time he had with his family. His members had travelled to Ilsan to spend the day with him, and they spent a good portion of the day hanging out together. Upon their arrival back at your in-laws’ house, Namjoon discovered the place covered in balloons and streamers, and the party was soon in full swing. Your sister in law, knowing Namjoon’s propensity for cute things and how much he adored the Ryan cake you and the members had given him a few years prior, had ordered an adorable Mangnanyong cake, much to his delight. 

With a stomach full of cake and having received gifts from all of his loved ones, Namjoon found himself well and truly content. He was grateful to have so many wonderful friends in attendance, many travelling all the way from Seoul to be there. There were his members (of course), numerous other idols who had taken time out of their busy schedules to be with him, as well as other friends (old and new) from outside the music industry. It was in moments like these that Namjoon felt well and truly loved and thankful for all that he was blessed with in this life. However, it wasn’t long until these thoughts were rudely interrupted by the chaos brought by three of his members.

“It’s your turn to deal with them now, birthday boy” said Yoongi, unceremoniously dumping his hyung and his youngest dongsaeng in front of the other rapper. Suddenly snapped out of the shock of being dragged over, Jungkook bounded towards Namjoon. 

“Hyung, my present was awesome wasn’t it?” His eyes sparkled in anticipation of hearing Joon’s verdict. “Much better than hyung’s right? He always has awful taste for stuff like this!”

Unbeknownst to him, those two had spent the last 10 minutes bickering over whose present was better, driving his other members insane in the process.

“Yah! Has the youth lost all respect for their elders these days? Besides, you know that mine is better, just give it up!” exclaimed Jin.

“A-hem”. Kyungmin cleared her throat, inserting herself into the conversation before her brother could speak up. “I think I’ve definitely got the best gift here”.  

Before either boy could protest, she quickly crossed the room in a few long strides. She pulled on the door and it swung open to reveal you on the other side. Although exhaustion and stress clouded your features, your radiance shone through nonetheless. At the sight of Namjoon, your face smoothed and a brilliant smile overtook your face, causing all the air to be sucked out of his lungs for a moment. Even after all these years, he still found you to be the most beautiful woman in the world. 

“Hey” you greeted softly.

“Y-Y/N? What are you doing here? I thought you were supposed to be in America still?”

“Yeah I was… But I managed to wrap things up a bit early so here I am” you replied

At that he briskly crossed the room and pulled you into his strong, warm arms. The whole room had stopped to witness the touching reunion, but neither of you took notice as you were both too caught up with the other. You buried your head into his shoulder, breathing in his scent. He smelled of wood and musk and home, and all at once you remembered how much you’d missed him. No matter how many times you’re apart, be it for his tours or promotions or your own work, you were always overcome by a deep yearning for him that could never be satisfied until you were together again. Pulling back, you looked into his eyes and instinctively knew that he was thinking the same thing. You tilted your head up, allowing him to slot your lips together. You fit together like two pieces of a puzzle, after years of being together this kind of affection came naturally to you two. That is until you were interrupted by two sets of gagging noises, causing you both to pull away and blush sheepishly. Kyungmin and Jungkook grinned at each other impishly, before the former dragged you away from Joon. “Now that you’re here, let’s get this party started!”

The next day, you and Joon were strolling through Ilsan, revisiting some of his favourite childhood spots with Monie. Although the dog was quite the tsundere towards your husband, he had no qualms towards showing affection towards you, licking you and yipping loudly whenever you don’t give him enough attention. You were always glad to see the furry friend whenever you visited your in-laws. You and your husband settled yourselves on a bench in the park as the little white menace ran around chasing squirrels and fetching the occasional stick your other half threw.

“Are you enjoying being home?” you asked, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled between you.

“Yeah, it’s been nice seeing my family and catching up with old friends, but it’s even better now that you’re here” he replied. You hummed in response, sinking further into your husband’s arms contentedly. Suddenly remembering what you came out here to do, you tensed, fiddling with your wedding band.

“What’s wrong?” asked Namjoon, sensing the sudden tension that entered your frame. His eyes travelled to your finger, where your hand was still fiddling with the ring. This was a nervous habit of yours since the very first day he presented you with a ring, which only served to compound his concern.

“It’s nothing really, I just…. I just have another present for you”. Last night you had given him a pair of his favourite wireless noise cancelling headphones that were only available in the states. He had broken his last pair on the flight back from Europe and he hated the prospect of having to wait months for another pair to arrive. Songwriting, travel and hell even monster dishwashing sessions were incomplete without them (even if the latter was slightly unsafe given your husband’s clumsiness). When you whipped them out of your bag, his face lit up like it was Christmas day and you promptly won the debate between the members. 

“What? You don’t need to keep spending your money on me, you already got me a trip and those headphones, that’s already way too much!” he exclaimed.

“It’s not really like that. I wanted to do something different for you. I really hope you like it. Besides, it not like I can take all the credit, the boys helped me with it too. Really they probably did most of the work… So yeah” you rambled, before petering out. With that, you pulled out your phone and passed it to him, pressing play.

The video started with soft piano melody playing a soothing lullaby. Pictures of your adventures with Joon, old and new, faded into view. Some of them were ridiculous selfies taken at tourist spots, or pictures taken by managers or one of the boys, but most were charming candids of your husband. Each shot allowed him to see himself through your eyes, and the infinite pool of love you felt for Namjoon was palpable. Even at the most breathtaking of locations, the camera’s focus never wavered from the man in front of you. A soft voice filtered out of the speakers, your voice, singing a lulling melody that he didn’t recognise.

“D-did you write this song?” 

“Yeah. Well I had some help from the boys, but it was mostly written and performed by yours truly”. His eyes met yours with something akin to awe. How is it possible that the woman that he loves with all of his heart could continue to amaze and astound him every day? “I know sometimes on tour you can’t sleep. I was thinking that maybe this might help when you miss us.”

“Us?” he questioned, but you merely smiled and shook your head, before gesturing for him to continue the video. Pictures came and went, everything from your wedding photos to images from the last tour to pictures from your most recent trip together to Europe. As the music slowed and diminuendoed, his breath caught as the final picture faded into view. A positive pregnancy test. His head snapped up hopefully as his eyes brimmed with tears.

“Is it true? You’re… ” he whispered, too scared to say the words aloud. You forced your eyes up from the ground to meet his, nodding. You and your husband had been trying for a baby for a while, but it had been unsuccessful thus far. That didn’t make it any less daunting to tell him the news though. At that, he whooped before picking you up and spinning you around. Monie bounded over at the commotion, yipping and tilting his head curiously.

“I’m going to be a dad!” he exclaimed excitedly, half to you and half to the dog, before crouching down. He placed his hand on your stomach, before placing a kiss there, on top of your t shirt.

“Joon, you’re not going to be able to feel anything yet” you said, giggling at his actions nonetheless.

“I know” he replied, “but I want to do it anyway”. 

“Hi little bean, I’m your dad!” he whispered softly, staring at your stomach. He stood up in one smooth motion, before meeting your eyes. “It’s amazing, you’ve really got a little life we made together in there”.

“It really is” you smiled.

His eyes flickered across your face, soaking in your every detail.

“I love you so much” he whispered, before pulling you in for one more kiss.

[irisouy]

Why I still believe in bellarke after S5

At the end of season 5 I wrote some meta about The100 that I did not publish. Season 6 arriving in April, I feel I should at least publish some of the content I wrote back then. And yes of course my first meta is about my OTP: Bellarke. So here is my first piece: how much I loved bellarke in season 5.

Disclaimer: this is my perception of season 5. I am a faithful bellarke believer and I do not hate any character, nor any cast member, nor any writer, nor producer. You have the right to disagree with my point of view, and if it’s the case just disregard my meta. No need to be angry, nor rude. Constructive criticism only. Beware, because I mention B.echo a lot in this meta.

Season 5 ended and so did the hopes of many bellarkers in the fandom; many feel betrayed and/or baited, others have just simply lost faith. For the very few who read me (trust me I am not a popular blog), you should know by now that I am not a disappointed bellarker and that I really enjoyed season 5.

Why do I still have faith? Because so far all I have seen about them is consistent and steady, slow… indeed, but very much steady.

Here are the points I am going to be discussing regarding the evolution of Bellarke during S5:

Reestablishing their partnership and connection

B.echo a tool to propel romantic bellarke

Betrayals to ground bellarke into reality 

Let’s dig into the season, shall we?

1.      Reestablishing their partnership and connection

At the end of season 4 when Bellarke was separated and the time jump was introduced I was pissed. I thought the twist was great, but I knew what it meant for my favorite ship: more delay. Indeed, this meant that all the escalating closeness and build-up between those two characters would take a major setback.

So when season 5 started I could not wait to have the bellarke reunion, because I was aware they would need to restore build-up because 6 years is a big deal. I hoped the build-up would be quick, but of course, this is The 100 we’re talking about and we all know that Bellarke is on top of the food chain when speaking about slow-burn love stories. The first step then was to reestablish the connection between two characters that spent 6 years apart and who started the season with two very different mind-frames:

On one hand we have Bellamy thinking he left Clarke behind to her death and having to cope with his guilt and move on with that idea at the same time. On the other hand, we have Clarke who has spent 6 years isolated with a child but has kept her hope that one day, Bellamy and Spacekru would come down.

At this point the problem with Bellarke is obvious: Bellamy has moved on and buried his remaining feelings for Clarke deep down, while Clarke has been waiting for him all along but is stuck with her memories of him. They both kept endearing memories of each other but they are not the same people anymore. And none of them are ready to open-up about the feelings they have for each other (yet).

When Bellamy finds out Clarke is alive and he swoops in to save her from Diyoza and delivers the infamous “She is”, I, just like all bellarkers was in awe. The subsequent hug was also beautiful and so intimate that I was surprised, because 6 years had passed, but it was obvious their connection was still there, it was real. The episodes started flowing one after the other and it was astonishing how they instantly moved back into their partnership: communicating through looks, moving in unison.

And then we got them acknowledge in canon that they were the “Heart and the Head” giving us a throwback of their conversation from the finale of Season 4: this marked the return of their bond.

Of course, us Bellarkers know that their non-romantic partnership is no longer enough… neither for us, nor for them. So how do you propel Bellarke into romantic territory, knowing that all they’ve had until now is a deep loving partnership? They have never been involved romantically with each other, and even though I believe they have been pining for each other for a while now, none of them thinks the other considers them in “that way”. They are both clueless about their real feelings.

So I believe the writers had to do something to stir things up and propel Bellarke towards a clear romantic path (or clearer). That’s where they decided to use a tool that had great advantages for them: B.echo.

2.      B.echo a tool to propel romantic bellarke

I know B.echo has clearly been controversial this season and for good reason: it was yet another obstacle put in the way of Bellarke. But as much as I don’t enjoy B.echo (although I don’t hate E.cho as a character, but again I don’t hate any character), it was not only an obstacle, it also was a “propeller”.

Yeah, you might think I’m crazy, but I am very much convinced of it and here’s why.

B.echo was first a tool to further Bellamy’s character development. Yes, he started a relationship with a former enemy, someone who tried to kill his sister, Clarke and who killed many of Bellamy’s people (Gina was not killed directly by her, it was another IN assassin who did the deed). E.cho was an antagonist in season 3 and 4, so starting season 5 with Bellamy in a full-on relationship with her was a big controversial move. But it was big mostly for Bellamy because it was an indicator of how much he had changed and grown during the 6 years spent in space. B.echo showed that not only Bellamy was able to move forward in his life, but that he learned to forgive himself and mostly others. Way back in season 4 I believed E.cho would play a role in Bellamy’s redemption arc because he needed to start seeing others as people who make choices just like him: not everything is black or white.

But if the existence of B.echo was the sign of Bellamy’s change, it was not the cause: leaving Clarke to die was. Throughout those 6 years Clarke remained a vivid memory and Bellamy lived his life with Clarke’s last words engraved in his head and heart. Bellamy’s change started because he wanted to live to Clarke’s expectations, dedicating his whole life to her. However, Clarke was a memory of a partner, not a romantic one, and with time passing, Bellamy buried deep down his burgeoning romantic feelings for Clarke.

Then it turns out that Clarke is alive. Bellamy is of course beyond thrilled, but it’s been too long and there are too many things going on for him to process what he really feels for Clarke. It seems that he has compartmentalized Echo being his girlfriend, Clarke being his long lost best friend and partner in crime. But then comes the scene where Bellamy poisons his sister in to save Clarke. This was fucking HUGE (excuse my language).

First, we had a direct comparison of B.echo’s relationship (romantic) with Bellarke’s relationship (not romantic yet) with the “traitor who you love” line from Octavia. This was made intentionally for Bellamy to realize that what he feels for Clarke is similar in nature to what he feels for E.cho: it is certainly NOT platonic. But the fact that Bellamy went to the most extreme lengths to save Clarke while he didn’t do it for E.cho speaks volumes about the intensity of his feelings.

So, in this case his relationship with E.cho has put in light the fact that:

His feelings for Clarke are romantic in nature

His feelings for Clarke are way more intense than those he has for E.cho

Not too shabby!

But B.echo has also helped Clarke consider her “pal” Bellamy as maybe more than that?

Obviously, Clarke’s close-ups while B.echo was kissing in two occasions where not an accident. That was intentional to show Clarke’s reaction: she is shocked and dumbfounded. You can clearly see that she doesn’t like it, she is very much bothered. Why would she feel bad that her “pal” Bellamy is making out with another woman? Well maybe because Clarke’s feelings for him are not platonic. Seeing B.echo together made Clarke well aware that she loves Bellamy romantically. She feels jealousy and sadness at the same time, because she is not in Bellamy’s life anymore, he has moved on, she lost her chance (at least that’s what she’s thinking).

And then we had the E.cho-Clarke scene which has caused a lot of controversy in the fandom, especially when E.cho calls out Clarke for “now caring” for Bellamy. You may like or not like the fact that E.cho is the one calling Clarke out on her feelings for Bellamy, but what I see here is Clarke’s response: “I always cared!” she responds right away, indignant. 

Once again, E.cho is used as a tool to show our protagonists’ feelings for each other. E.cho is used to stir things up…. And it works! Not just on the characters, but on the fandom as well, might I say.

The “I always cared” comes as a call back to L.exa’s “you care about him” when Clarke was denying caring about him in particular. But now, look at that, she doesn’t deny it, and doesn’t hesitate for one second.

So, you may not like E.cho, and that is absolutely fine, but when looking back at her character in season 5, she only really was used for one main purpose: stir romantic emotions between Bellarke.

Put it in your head: E.cho is only a tool at the service of Bellarke.

 3.      Betrayals to bring bellarke back to reality (to ground bellarke into reality)

The final obstacle for a romantic bellarke after the 6-year delay in their relationship was grounding their new-found relationship back to the reality of who they are now, and not who they were 6 years ago. Indeed, for 6 years both lived with a representation of who the other was: it was a mental picture of the other that escalated into a sort of persona that no longer existed.

But during those 6 years, both have evolved, both have found people they love and want to protect. Both carry their own trauma and are closed-off. How do you wake them up to the reality?

By showing who they are right now and breaking the illusion of the “perfect” image they had in their minds. That is why both Bellamy and Clarke betray each other during season 5.

Bellamy betrays Clarke by keeping her imprisoned while pushing Madi to accept he flame. He promised Clarke that he would protect Madi and she believed with all her heart that he would keep his promise. But she had in mind that he would do so the same way he used to: the way Bellamy used to protect his sister 6 years ago, not seeing the full picture, not caring about the wellbeing of others while doing so. However Bellamy has spent the 6 years of his life trying to fulfil the promise he made to Clarke: to lead with both his heart and head and he has succeeded in thinking and acting this way. He no longer rushes, he takes a step back and tries to assess the consequences of his actions. Clarke needed to realize that new side of Bellamy and the most effective way was by crushing the image she had of “Heart” Bellamy. But the thing is that Bellamy did keep his promise to protect Madi, just not the way she thought he would. This is the main difference and shocker for Clarke.

The same goes for Bellamy: he needed to realize that Clarke has been living alone with Madi for 6 years and that she has changed as well. She has undergone excruciating pain and loneliness: she is bruised and is no longer the cool-hearted leader she once was. All she has is Madi, she is her only world and family. Bellamy is going to be confronted to a Clarke who doesn’t think things through and who acts impulsively with only one thing in mind: her family, her person. And when she leaves Bellamy to die in the pit, his image of Clarke comes crashing down. He no longer is important to her, maybe he imagined that she once cared about him. The Clarke he has now in front of him has changed and is bruised: she trusts no one.

However why do I think this is positive for Bellarke?

Because to move onto a healthy romantic relationship, one needs to know the other person and see the person for who she/he is, not the representation one has in their heads. And the key element once they have confronted the reality is how they respond to it: do they hate each other and swear to not see each other anymore? Or do they accept this new person and move on from there?

The end of S5 clearly shows that they cannot envisage life without the other and that they are willing to accept the new person they have become. Clarke clearly showed that she regretted abandoning him to die and that she was relieved when she found out he was alive.

Bellamy only changed his mind when Madi revealed that Clarke had been calling him every day for 6 years. This proved that what hurt Bellamy the most was not that Clarke betrayed him, but that he thought she did not care about him anymore. Madi’s revelation proved him wrong, and in a heartbeat, he changed his attitude towards Clarke.

The following scenes between them clearly show that Bellarke is not done at all with each other. And the final shot speaks volumes about their relationship status.

Conclusion:

In S5 bellarke have found each other again, reassessed that they need each other in their lives and have accepted they are different people now.

So I believe that in S6 they have the perfect set up to finally become romantic. What about B.echo you might say? Well as I’ve mentioned, to me B.echo is merely an obstacle to Bellarke.

Keep in mind that Bellarke is a slow burn: every slow burn is given obstacles before they get to a love relationship. So writers “sprinkle” short to mid-term love interests throughout the seasons to:

Delay the central relationship from happening

Add drama

Teach lessons to their characters (character development)

And I am sorry to say it, but Finn and L.xa, from a pure story standpoint were only short-term love interests for Clarke (and Gina for Bellamy). Bellarke is always growing in the background…simmering. B.echo is not different from those relationships; it just delays the inevitable.

I truly believe that it’s JR intent to have romantic Bellarke and that we are not delusional: we clearly see the clues that the writers are throwing at us. For all those reasons I enjoyed Bellarke in season 5. Bellarke is the only relationship that has had a STEADY unwavering progression throughout the seasons… excruciatingly slow, yes, but steady.

Believe in bellarke. However, can they fucking kiss already?

[scenariosofkonoha]

may I ask for an itachi modern au scenario where his foreigner girlfriend comes to visit him in Japan??

Hello there Anon! I’ve never done a modern AU before! It was fun, I’m still dusting of my full scenario skills so I hope this is to your liking!  ~Admin Little Lace 🎀

Today is the day, the thought repeated in his head. It had been the only thought in his head since that morning. She’d be proud, his head wasn’t so bogged down with thoughts. Thoughts of numbers and figures, consideration of business deals, the planning of his schedule and so many other trivial things wasted away.

“You think too much Itachi,” He could hear her voice saying, as she had many times. So light and happy. But the giggling ton had always been through a screen or an ear piece. Today that would change. Because today, the girl he had given his heart to would be there with him. Sharing the same space for the first time in a long time. Today was the day his girlfriend was to visit him.

They had met when he had taken part in the Foreign Exchange Program his 3rd year. Her family had graciously agreed to host him. The small family of three were altogether very nice. Her parents were warm and inviting, a stark contrast from the formality of his family. When the program liaison had told him his host family had a daughter a little older than Sasuke, he had expected something like the strange blushing girls in his class. Girls that whispered and simpered whenever he was around.

To his surprise, she was smiling brightly and (with the poorest of Japanese) introduced herself. Not wanting to kill her enthusiasm he smiled back introducing himself. She was the very sun itself. Never without a smile or kind word, the girl show him around the high school they attended.

“I’ll show you where all the cool kids hang out.” She had said, her weird phrases always making him smile. There was never a dull moment when he was with her. And although he wasn’t sure that this was what her “cool kids” did, she had taught him to play darts. The Uchiha couldn’t help but laugh at the pouty face she made when she discovered how good he was. In return, he helped her with her Japanese. Long hours were spent on instructing her on characters and enjoying her clumsy handwriting and laughter. Her loved her laugh.

Her laugher was one of the few things that could break him away from his thoughts. It seemed like she was always laughing, while they studied, when they ate, while they walked to and from school. The girl was just so happy. The light and easy air, a far cry from the rigidity of his home life. He once asked her why she was so cheerful.

“Because I’m with you, silly.” It was so simple and answer but his heart gave a strange beat. The arrhythmia only worsened the more time he spent with her. His feelings hadn’t made sense until she was crying at the airport. He watched longingly as she wiped away tears, laughing at how silly she was being. In a move, bold for him, he wiped away a tear and smiled to her.

“I’ll miss you too,” he spoke, his words bringing a blush to her cheeks, “Please laugh while I’m gone.”

“Flight J492 Luggage has been moved to carousal 3,” the electronic announcer informed, breaking the dark haired man out of his thoughts. Standing from his seat, he made his way to the end carousal. His dark eyes searching for her. Amidst the groups of family reunions, tired business men, and flight attendants moving to their next destination, he didn’t see her. She had messaged him last night saying she had gotten on to her connecting flight safety and she would see him that morning. Perhaps she hadn’t disembarked yet?

A vibration went off in his pocket drawing him to his phone. Half expecting her, he shouldn’t have been surprised to see Shisui’s number with a message.

Say hi to your ‘girlfriend’ for me.

His best friend had known about the girl since the beginning. He had been there when their letters turned to emails. As the occasional email became daily text messages. But still hadn’t fully believed as they shared phone calls and video chats. Itachi, at first, understood the man’s ignorance. His ‘Host Sister’ had become a fixture in his life. It had seem like she had always been there. Someone the older Uchiha would ask about if he remembered his junior had a host family. All throughout his years in university and the start of hers, they had spoken merely as friends, close friends. Inquiring about school life, checking on each other’s families’. Merely topics of regular conversation until one night.

“I love you,” she blurted out as he went to explain her physics assignment. Neither spoke, not entirely sure the other had heard them right. Her eyes filling with tears as she broke first, looking away from the web cam. “Itachi, I’m so-”

“I love you too,”

The change had been easy, natural even. They had been friends at such a distance before, the distance as lovers didn’t seem to bother. It was difficult to be sure, being separated from the one you loved always was. But the late night/earlier morning calls made the days apart easier. Seeing her face before he left for work and then again before he fell asleep sought to quell any brewing anxiety and strengthened the budding romance. Soon her picture had made it’s way on to his desk, a sign to the twittering office girls the fight had been lost. The picture had also drawn the attention of his friend.

“Who is that?” Shisui stopped looking at the framed photograph.

“My girlfriend,” the incredulous look from his friend and co worker should have been concerning.

“No way!” Somehow, though the Uchiha could not figure out how, ‘host sister’ made more sense to him than girlfriend. As if it was too much of a stretch for him to be romantically engaged with in his words “A girl as hot as this”.

I will

he typed closing the app, the action bringing him his background, a photo of her. It had been taken a day again, she standing by her bags ready to go. Her form wrapped up in a jacket he had left all those years ago. Her smile dazzling as he remembered with the caption: Japan or Bust, across the bottom.

A shrill tone sounded as carousal 3 began to turn, bags falling on to the conveyor. His heart began to speed up a littler. Today was the day. All the plans they had made these past years were going to come to pass.

“We can go to the Ghibli Museum!” She squealed pulling a guide book into frame. The thick tome busting at the seams with colorful post it notes. “They have a Cat Bus you can board!” Her excitement contagious even through his laptop.

“Is that all you want to do?” his question met with a torrent of Pokemon theme places, studio city tours and anime themed attractions. After her excitement filled rambling about places he hadn’t even known existed, she stopped suddenly looking toward the camera, is if he had really been in her bedroom with her. Her abrupt silent worrying. “What’s wrong?”

“I think just seeing you is all I want to do,” she answered pensively, her signature giggle following. “Yes! Being with Itachi is definitely the only thing I want to do!” She had always sounded so sure. Even through all the set backs, being with him was the thought that had pushed her along. The thought of being with her encouraged him too, helping him believe one day she would be there with him. Today was the day the thought repeated again.

Swiftly, Itachi moved through the crowd, on the hunt for his love. Through his question of whether or not he should have made a sign something caught his eye. A familiar red and white fan. Following the glimpse he was looking at a jacket. One he was sure was long since lost to him. Standing to the side fo the luggage carousal, the article of clothing was drowning a smaller frame of a girl. He smiled as she lugged her brightly colored suitcase off the conveyor belt. Stealthily, he walked behind her, she taking no notice of her lover as she looked over her case.

His heart gave an off beat being so close to her once more. She had grown a little taller, and her hair was a bit different. But she was still the same girl who bowed to him saying it was ‘meet to nice’ him. Not one to let nerves get the best of him, he tapped her opposite shoulder. As she had always done, she looked in that direction. Finding no one she started a complete 360 before being stopped by his two fingers on her forehead. Her surprised face blooming into the most lovely smile. He had expected her to squeal, he had expected her to jump on him, he had expected so many other things. What he hadn’t anticipated was tears. Her eyes widened, tears falling.

“Hi,” she said softly.

“Hello again,” he returned copying her manner. Easily his arms found themselves around her, pulling her close. They had never been very physical when they were young, a hand touch here, a forehead tap there. But to embrace her like this, it was magical. As she returned his embrace, he could for the first time feel her giggle as she laughed. Itachi felt complete.

Placing a kiss to her forehead, he looked to his girlfriend. If it hadn’t been for the commotion of travelers around them he would have thought this was a dream. Picking up her suitcase he offered her his arm. “Come on,” he said, watching her eyes light up as she linked her arm with his. “I’ll take you to breakfast,” he took her squeal as an agreement. As they made their way to his car, the discussed her flight. True to form she was more interested in talking about what she had dubbed ‘Their Adventure’.

As she gushed about cat cafes and ‘finally riding cat bus’, he smiled. Itachi hadn’t had the heart to tell her that only children could board the pseudo-feline. Yet he hoped the the square box in his pocket would make up for it. That she would agree to their next adventure.

[burninghoneyatdusk]

Nothing is ever really sacred, but maybe some things need to be. At least the core relationship of the story that you have been telling for six full seasons now.

Essentially, Jason Rothenberg spoke with Selina Wilken at Hypable about the sixth season of The 100 recently. In the interview, he clarified that Bellamy's story was misinterpreted by some, with his choice to leave with Josephine during The 100 Season 6 Episode 8, a reflection of him looking to keep everyone safe.

Now there is merit in saying that Bellamy cared about keeping everyone safe this season, he was focused on doing better by looking out for those that he could protect.

What doesn't have merit is once again erasing the way an arc is shown on screen.

An entire audience can't misunderstand what you are trying to say with a season. If you don't like the message that the viewers are picking up from your show, write a different message.

But what shouldn't be happening for the second finale in a row is the audience being told that intentional dialogue, scene framing, and the general plot structure is not to be seen the way it is on screen.

Once again this lingers on gaslighting, when you write a season focused on Bellamy being the first to see something is wrong with Clarke and his entire purpose becoming a mission to save her life and then having an emotionally charged resurrection based on his love for her, all of which is waved away as if it was for the greater good of a larger population.

No.

It was intentional to have Bellamy be the one to save Clarke and to have his entire purpose become making sure she returns. Bellamy mourned her on purpose during The 100 Season 6 Episode 6 and then he naturally stopped at nothing to bring her back.

So to have a showrunner try to diminish a storyline that everyone witnessed and interpreted a specific way is once again poking holes in the writing that the room chooses to do.

It isn't fair to the viewers, and it questions their intelligence when what is on the screen keeps getting walked back in a borderline cruel way.

It comes down to this if you don't want to write scenes that tease romantic Bellarke for six seasons then don't.

This is a choice that has happened as long as the show has existed. So if the decision is to attach Bellamy and Clarke's interactions to romantic tropes and heavily hinted comparisons to actual couples on the show, then commit to what is being danced around on screen for years.

Don't write something and then make the audience question if they are seeing it correctly. It is insulting to spin it any other way than what airs in the final product of each episode.

Because it is all about taking responsibility for what ended up on air. Even if the plan was different, that is not what made it into the final cut and that is what matters.

No one misinterpreted anything, because it was written with intention and fans are allowed to view it that way.

At the end of the day, the story always comes back to Clarke and Bellamy, just like every finale has shown us so far.

But all my thoughts just circle back to this episode, that had so much going on and that still managed to make sure Bellamy and Clarke found that moment with one another.

And then there they were, searching for each other and the comfort that they always offer after each battle. It was an emotional moment, once again making us question how those two aren't together when their reunions look like that. Especially when you parallel them to reunions between actual couples on the show.

But maybe I just misinterpreted the show.

Yana Grebenyuk (TV Fanatic Review)

[bombshellsandbluebells]

Do you have thoughts on how The 100 shows parental relationships? I know you've talked a bit about Clarke/Madi, but I was surprised at the turn Indra/Gaia and Indra/Octavia took in s5, and so sad about Abby/Raven. I'm not sure how I feel about Abby telling Clarke she should do whatever she has to to save Madi, especially after they had such a lack luster reunion (Abby immediately left Clarke after the bunker was opened and Clarke didn't seem all that upset?)

I’m so sorry that this message has been in my inbox for forever!

One of my main issues with the 100’s handling of relationships in general (romantic, platonic, familial, etc.) is the tendency to just drop previously established relationships when they no longer suit the current plotline. They do a good job setting up really interesting relationships and a really bad job of following through with them continuously throughout the show. I’ve talked about it before in the context of friendships (Raven and Bellamy not speaking in S3, Jasper apparently having no friends but Monty in s4, etc.)

And they do it with parental relationships too. I was also really frustrated this last season with the lack of Abby/Clarke. We got it at certain times, sure, but apparently when it wasn’t plot relevant it also just…wasn’t a relevant relationship to either Clarke or Abby. Like you said, their reunion was pretty lackluster, especially after the emotional moment in the first two episodes when Clarke and Abby were trying so desperately to reach each other on the other sides of the bunker. There were scenes included specifically to remind us of their relationship and drive it home, but outside of those scenes, concern for each other didn’t really seem to be a driving motivation for either of them or factor into any of their decisions.

And that’s a really big problem, because you can’t sell a relationship as important if it fails to affect character motivations.

It’s a disappointment because for the most part, the 100 has always handled Abby and Clarke’s relationship pretty well. Not to say it’s always been a functional and healthy relationship. It hasn’t always been. Abby and Clarke love each other a lot, but they have a lot of messy baggage. But still – it’s always at least been present. And now this season it suddenly wasn’t. What’s even stranger is that Abby’s relevance in Clarke’s life and her effect on her as her mother disappeared in a season where Clarke was now inhabiting a motherly role. You would think her relationship with Abby would be even MORE prominent, since Clarke would likely have a new frame of understanding for some of Abby’s actions or be comparing herself to her mother. And yet Clarke hardly seemed to be aware of her mother, let alone actually care about her outside of like, 3 scenes. And you would think a reunion after 6 years apart would be a little more emotional - or impactful at all for either character - than what we got. But it’s like their relationship just wasn’t a concern to the writers so it wasn’t really important to the characters.

As for parental relationships in the 100 as a whole? I mean, there sure are a lot of screwed up parent/child relationships. Abby and Clarke may love each other, but their relationship is full of baggage. Aurora may have loved her children, but her actions really screwed them up. Raven’s mother was distant. Murphy’s was abusive. Clarke as a mother is controlling, manipulative, and abusive.

But at the same time, there are positive parental relationships in this show too. David Miller is like the best father you could ever have, for one, and I’m still mourning his loss.

One thing that’s interesting to me is how much the 100 portrays adopted parent/child relationships as incredibly positive and loving – more so than most of the actual blood-related parent/child bonds. Abby is a better mother to Jasper, Raven, and Murphy than she sometimes is to Clarke, because she’s able to fill a motherly, supportive role that those characters don’t have in their lives - while she and Clarke are constantly misunderstanding each other. Kane is a very positive parental figure in Bellamy and Octavia’s lives. Sinclair loved Raven so much he was willing to give his own life for her to live. Indra loves Octavia not just as her student, but as a second daughter.

(Note: about Abby specifically this season, I think her actions are much more a sign of how little control she has over herself right now and what a terrible, unreasonable state of mind she’s in, and less about how The 100 wants to portray mothers as a whole. I absolutely do think that Abby still loves Raven. I also think she did something absolutely terrible to her. And I’m hoping that she can ask Raven’s forgiveness and get help and they can hopefully recover from this.)

The 100 puts a lot of weight and importance on adopted relationships, and in a lot of ways, the families you choose end up more positive and important (and usually less messy) than the blood relationships.

One thing that’s consistent is that the 100 never portrays parent/child relationships as easy or without problems. They might be loving relationships and the characters’ actions might be motivated by love, but they’re also full of arguments and strife that usually centers around the parent and child failing to understand each other or having different views about what they should do. 

Even with the two best blood parent/child relationships, we see this. David absolutely loves Nathan, and as an audience we see his desperation to find Nate and save him. But Miller, unable to see his father’s desperate journey to reach him, mentions he was a disappointment to his dad because he was a thief. Obviously, David’s desire to keep Nate safe far outweighs any disappointment he had in his son’s previous actions, but at one point in time there was clearly a rift between them and it shaped Nate’s understanding of their relationship. And with Indra and Gaia, they might love each other, but until s5 they are completely unable to understand each other or their motivations. Indra looks down on Gaia’s beliefs and her way of life and her disappointment in Gaia not following in her footsteps as a warrior drives a rift between them.

I’ve always kind of enjoyed that, to be honest. It’s interesting to tell these stories of family members who love each other but just can’t quite see eye to eye and struggle to. 

And that’s why I was so happy to see where Indra and Gaia went this season, because Indra DID love her daughter, she just didn’t understand her beliefs and she was dismissive of them. I thought it was so great to see them start understanding each other better and be more accepting even of the things they don’t understand. I absolutely loved that moment where Indra backed Gaia’s plan! Because it doesn’t actually matter if Indra believes in the power of the Flame, she’s learning to trust in Gaia’s belief of it. She’s supporting her daughter and her beliefs, even when she doesn’t share them. I’m so excited to see where their relationship progresses!

For the most part, I think all the parent/child relationships on The 100 are different, though they definitely portray adopted/found families in a positive light.

I will say, though, that I am mad the show did not call out what Clarke did to Madi, which falls into the same problem they ALWAYS have of being unable to fully commit to calling out Clarke’s bad actions. Clarke can say she was scared of Madi getting hurt all she wants - and hell, it can be true - but it doesn’t change the fact that she mistreated her daughter and chose to physically hurt her as a way to control her. She was a terrible mother at the end of the season, and honestly, I think it would realistically take a few more apologies for Madi to really even consider trusting her again. I mean her trust in Clarke must have been SHATTERED when that happened. And all it really took was Clarke saying sorry one time and letting her go. No. I want to see some actual consequences from that. I want to see Clarke have to repair that relationship she damaged.

But again, that’s part of the bigger issue of letting Clarke do wrong without, like, really calling Clarke out for doing wrong. And that’s the cause of a LOT of writing issues on this show.

Anyways, that was a long ramble and I hope you understood it. And hopefully the length made up for the long time it took to reply? Sorry again!

Thanks for asking!

[omyeol]

three words - ii

(cr. to owner, gif is not mine)

word count: 3,511

genre: fluff, angst

warning: sexual content 

At 8.30 in the morning, you sauntered in casually to your office, making your way out of the elevator with springs on your step, your bag filled with your external hard disk, notebook, and other stuff you never bothered to take out in one hand and a tall cup of hot latte from the coffee shop down the street. Being 40 minutes early, the office was still rather empty, apart from your team leader (Junmyeon) who liked to come at least an hour earlier because he liked to have a cat nap before he started working, and some guys from the marketing team.

As much as you liked working from home and in-between finishing your Masters, you had to admit that you missed working at the office too, sitting in your cubicle and brainstorming with your team throughout the day. You missed the ambience, the vending machine in the pantry that kept breaking down, and of course, your desk.

Your desk still looked like how it did when you stopped by the office to have a team meeting two weeks ago. Post-its tagged with deadline dates, design ideas, meeting dates, and even day-to-day reminder (such as grocery list or reminder to call Baekhyun) were still stuck on the divider of your cubicle. Nothing seemed out of place, apart from the bouquet of flowers on top of your keyboard.   

Congratulations on finishing your Masters!!

We’re sooo excited to have you back at the office again!

Somin, Jongin, Sehun, & Junmyeon

A smile bloomed on your face at the sprawly, familiar handwriting (you knew it’s Somin’s), feeling warmth at the sweet gesture. You placed your cup of coffee gently on your desk, strategically placing it near your keyboard, and looked around to check if Junmyeon was already awake. You were planning to thank him for the flowers, but decided to do it later when he was awake.

The trio arrived much later than you expected. Somin was the first one to show up, just about ten minutes before nine with her usual dose of caffeine. As if she hadn’t seen you in so long (when you both actually had dinner together a few days ago), she greeted you with a hug and bright smile. In her usual Somin’s nature, she chatted your ear off as you both waited for Jongin and Sehun, who ended up being five minutes late. Since it was already past 9, you didn’t have any time to have a proper chat with them before Junmyeon (who was already wide awake and full of smile) called the four of you for a team meeting.

(Although as usual, the team meeting was spent with Junmyeon talking your ears off about the some new client you got and your own job descriptions, and Jongin pitching design ideas here and there.)

“Unnie, should we go get lunch together?” You looked up from your computer where you were typing up a proposal for next week’s meeting and saw Somin sticking her head over the divider of your cubicle and cracking a bright smile at you.

“Sure,” you breathed out as you leaned back against the back of you swivel chair. “What should we have-”

“Let’s have some jjajangmyeon.” One of the two men, Jongin spoke, poking his head over the divider as well before you could even ask Somin. “It’s been so long since I have jjajangmyeon for lunch.”

“You had it for lunch last Friday,” Somin quipped with a sigh. “I thought we’re only having jjajangmyeon on Fridays.” You looked back and forth between Sehun and Somin who were already in a debate. Waiting for the two to finish their debate, you fished your phone out of the bag and checked if there was any new messages.

There was one, from Baekhyun.

Have fun on your first day back at the office! I’ll see you tonight at home!

Along with the text, he also sent a picture of him smiling, his eyes crinkling at the side. In the picture, he was already wearing his sky blue scrubs and white coat as always, looking charismatic in his work clothes. You rarely saw him wearing his scrubs, but when you saw him in it, you always admired it because Baekhyun always looked so different than the Baekhyun you saw at home. The Baekhyun you saw at home usually walked around his pajamas with his messy bed hair that he never bothered to comb and his round-framed glasses that gave him a boyish charm. Meanwhile Doctor Byun Baekhyun wore scrubs, his eyes were always watching everything in alert, and his feet were quick to move. It was a sight that you rarely saw yet you loved it so much.

Thank you. See you at home!

Exchanging text like this felt so weirdly domestic and slightly romantic, which caused your head to send another warning sign for you. And for the nth time, you ignored that warning sign, telling yourself that this was also what friends would usually do.

“Noona, let’s have lunch.” Looking up from your phone, Sehun was already standing and leaning by your desk with his arms crossed over his chest. “We’re having pasta.” You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion.

“I actually thought we’re having jjajangmyeon,” you spoke casually as you rose up from your seat, slipping your phone into your blazer pocket and grabbing your bag with you.

“I told them it’s your first day back so we should celebrate a little bit.” One of these days, you should really treat him coffee or some pastry for his good deed. When you were still busy with trying to graduate, Sehun had kindly taken a bit of your work load off. He’d gone as far as helping you with whatever proposal you made for client meeting. Even though it was not in his job description to do so, but he did it anyway before forwarding it to Junmyeon.

“What’s new at the office?” You asked as the four of you headed to the elevator, most people had gone out for lunch and only a few stayed at the workspace.

“Junmyeon-hyung is dating someone. We don’t know who it is, but he definitely is because now he rarely stays late at the office. That one time he even counted the minute until we were done for the day.” You couldn’t help but let out a gasp at the news. Your team leader was one of the most passionate people at the office who took his job very seriously and was pretty much married to it. Jongin and Sehun had tried as far as setting him up with someone they knew, but that didn’t work out.

“My guess would be someone he met at his high school reunion last month.”

So, the rest of your lunch hour was spent in making guesses of who your team leader was possibly dating, and also the other three giving you updates about other news around the office–like the two foreign interns (they were an international students) but they had the outstanding social skills to fit in with the others in a span of two weeks, or the news where Minseok kept losing his lunch for a week straight and the culprit hadn’t been caught until recently. Hearing all these news made you feel glad that your team had helped you to not lose your position at the office while you were studying for Masters. The thing was, you didn’t know what you would do if you had to quit and move to another company.

When you came back from lunch, there was a new bouquet of flowers sitting on your desk. Looking around the office, everyone who was already back, minding their own business and not even one of them looked suspicious enough to send you the flowers. Placing your bag on the floor, you grabbed the bouquet and checked if there was a card.

There was, and the message was handwritten, in a handwriting that looked familiar to you.

Have fun at your first day back at the office!

I was planning to drive you to the office this morning and all that jazz, but I got the morning shift :(

But don’t worry I’ll be home later when you get home and we’ll have tteokbokki while you talk about your first day back.

Enjoy your day! Don’t think about me too much :)

Love,

BBH

The words written on the card made tears well up on the corner of your eyes, you even had to shut your eyes and take a few deep breaths to keep your composure. The flowers and the gesture felt so much like he was yours to have; like this was just a thing he did just because he felt like it. Opening your eyes, your eyes read the card once more, this time noticing how Baekhyun actually went to a florist, ordered the flowers for you, and wrote the card himself.

Why is he doing this, you questioned yourself, why is he making things really hard for me than it already was?

“Whoa, another flowers bouquet. Who is it from?” Somin, Jongin, and Sehun huddled around you; Somin grabbing the flowers and smelling it while the guys were reading the card you had in hand over your shoulders.

“BBH,” Jongin read out loud, and then let out a gasp. “Whoa, noona. You’re not the only who’s dating someone.” You turned your head and saw Jongin wiggling his eyebrows playfully at you.

“We’re not dating,” you clarified quickly. “He’s just a friend. We’re friends.” The word ‘friends’ felt awfully bitter in your mouth. The realization that you and Baekhyun were just friends caused your stomach to twist painfully. All this time, you made it seem like it was just all in your head, like being just friends was just another attempt of your heart to shield yourself from a heartache. But now you finally said the words out loud, it felt like it became real. Much too real for you to realize. If your heart thought it was just shielding yourself from a heartache, it was no use. It was too late. You already got your heart aching since the first time you said yes to Baekhyun’s offer to play house.

Friday nights were mostly spent lounging around on the couch with some shows playing on TV or trying your best to get some work done (you were unusually motivated and productive). You didn’t usually bring your work home, but when the deadline was approaching and you still weren’t satisfied with the one you worked on at the office, you had no choice but made some edits at home. Besides, it wasn’t like you could be distracted easily.

Well, that was if Baekhyun wasn’t home, though. If he was, it was another story.

That’s why you didn’t know how you both could end up in such a compromising position. First, Baekhyun was keeping you company until you finished your work, and the next thing you knew he was kissing you and pulling you to sit on his lap. But you were pretty sure the empty bottle of wine on the coffee table was the one you could blame for this. Frankly, you didn’t feel slightly guilty about this. Besides, the moan that came out of his mouth when you tugged the hair on his nape was like music to your ears. It didn’t make you want to stop. Instead, it spurred you on even more.

With a surge of confidence flowing in your stream, you shifted on his lap and pulled away from his lips, moving your lips to press chaste kisses on his cheek and jaw. Just when you thought you had the control, it changed and every thought you had about this situation just floated to the thin air as Baekhyun used that moment to suck on a certain spot on your collarbone that got you to let out the first moan in the evening and he moved his cold hands to your thighs. You shut your eyes and tried to hold back your moan, but you couldn’t since his hands were inching closer and closer to where you needed him the most.

“You enjoyed that, didn’t you?” he spoke as he pulled way a bit to look at the masterpiece he had created on your collarbone. You had a thought that a few bruises had probably shown and clearly it’s way too late to warn or stop him altogether.

“How could I not?” You muttered and tugged at his hair again, pulling his head back from your neck to look at his eyes. His eyes were a bit darker than it was before and it was good enough to calm your brain. There was also a mischievous glint in his eyes and a cheeky smile across his face that made your heart skip a beat. “Your lips are amazing. Dunno if it’s a blessing or curse.”

His eyes widened a bit and he looked at you like you were crazy before shaking his head faintly, “you are so drunk.”

“Well it’s ‘cause of you,” you retorted and he chuckled. “Don’t be so flattered. You brought that wine when you know I’m at my weakest. So don’t judge me.”

“What do you want me to do, then?” he murmured before leaning in and trailing kisses from your jaw to your neck again. His lips really felt amazing against your skin and you didn’t ever want him to stop. It had been too long since you both did this, and you wondered how the hell you lasted a month without feeling his lips against your skin like this.

“Want me to stop?” His hands moved up, up, and up, showing off your thighs even more as he sucked on a spot on your neck that got your breath hitched. You didn’t have the chance to answer his question since he’s already pulling back a bit to take off your dress shirt, leaving you only in your bra and panties. The feeling of his hands on you made you move your hands down, trailing it to his chest, to feel his heartbeat against your hands.

He placed his hand on your hip, squeezing a bit while he used his other hand to playfully tug on your panties. His lips still did wonders and sucked softly on the previous spot he made as he pushed your panties aside and trailed one of his fingers on your slit. You moaned.

“Seems like you don’t want me to stop,” he teased as he inserted a finger into your core and thrust shallowly a few times. “So wet for me.” You groaned and shifted your hips a bit, wanting more than only one of his fingers because it just wasn’t enough.

Baekhyun was blessed with such beautiful fingers that could do wonders. He could play piano well, and he was good at driving you crazy with those fingers too. Before this arrangement happened, sometimes you couldn’t help but think about what those fingers could do and the damage it could’ve caused a lot on you. But now that you had had a taste of it (literally and figuratively), you couldn’t have enough of it.

“Baek,” you panted above him. He pulled out his finger and now thrust two fingers into your core, his thumb circling your clit. He went deeper and found the spot that got you moaning his name so loud. He chuckled. “Please,” you moaned again as you arched your back from pleasure, pushing your chest flush against his. He trailed his hand up from your hip to your back, tracing your back gently and eliciting shivers down your spine.

“Please what, hmm?” he urged as he kept on thrusting his fingers in and out of you slowly, hitting that spot again and moving his thumb away from your clit. While you were so preoccupied with the knot forming inside of you, he used his free hand to unclasp your bra and help you take it off, throwing it somewhere across the room when he’s done.

“Please just – oh,” your words failed you as he used that moment to pinch your hardening nipple and his mouth moved to suck on my other nipple. That delicious feeling caused you to squirm on his lap, grinding over his hardening crotch subconsciously and you were getting so much closer to the edge. Maybe it would only take a few more thrust of his fingers and another pinch or two before you reached your climax.

“What was that, babe?” He stilled his fingers in you and pulled back a little to take a good look of you, his intense gaze glued on your face. His gaze on you are glazed, pupils dilating with lust swirling in it and his lips were red and swollen from all the kissing you had done earlier. He looked so delicious it made you want to let him do anything he wanted to do to you all night.

“Just,” you gasped and shut your eyes tightly, mouth gaped open as he curled his fingers on the spot that made you tremble. Your hands shook and you had to curl and uncurl your fist a couple times as you dropped your head onto his shoulder. “Just fuck me,” you murmured against his neck.

“Hey, hey, look at me.” He trailed his hand up to your shoulder and pulled you back from his neck. Your brain was cloudy, your gaze was hazy, and you felt unsteady as he squeezed your shoulder gently, trying to keep your eyes focus on him. “I’ll fuck you, okay? I’ll fuck you until you can feel me for days.” Baekhyun was filthy and the fact that he kept his eyes on you as the words slithered out of his pretty mouth made you clench against his fingers.

The way he blinked his eyes in fake innocence and his lips spread in a mischievous smile made you want to curse at him. “You know I’ll always take care of you.” Feeling you clench against him, he curled his fingers on that spot, causing your eyes to roll back and drop your head on his shoulder again.

Baekhyun moved his hand from your shoulder to your thigh, feeling it tremble against his hand. The knot in your stomach was tightening and you knew you were tethering at the edge. “But I need you to come for me first, okay? Can you do that for me?”

“Yes, yes,” you sobbed against his shoulder and turned your head to press your lips against his neck, where a layer of sweat coating it.

He leaned his head forward a bit and let the mouth graze against your ear, his thumb now rubbing fast and hard against your clit. “Good girl.” Shocked at how sensual those words sound with his low voice, your hips jerked up and you came undone over Baekhyun’s hand, letting out a loud cry. “That’s it. Let go. Let go for me.” He helped you ride out your orgasm, his fingers still slowly thrusting into your core and his thumb rubbing against your overstimulated clit. You were still shaking and holding on to him tightly as he pulled his fingers out of core, feeling empty and overwhelmed from the shock of the orgasm.

You clung to him and breathed against his neck as he grabbed a few tissues from the end table and wiped his fingers with it. His other hand caressed your back softly, helping you to calm down and steady yourself. “Hey,” he murmured against your ear and pulled back from the embrace, his cleaned hand now holding onto your cheek. The way his fingertips graze your cheek softly pulled you back to the moment.

You opened your eyes and blinked it a few times, realizing that he was already staring at you with a fond look and a soft smile across his face, like he wasn’t just sputtering out filthy words a few minutes earlier. The way he looked at you after he did this sometimes led you to believe if he did this because he really loved you, not because of the lust he felt in the moment. It mislead you way too many times into feeling like you two weren’t only lovers for a few moment, but for a lifetime. It was easy to get lost in the moment and pretend that the arrangement never happened in the first place, and it happened because what you both really felt for each other.

“You okay now?” You nodded and cleared your throat, still not trusting yourself to speak just yet. Scared that if you opened your mouth, you’d be asking him the question that you didn’t want to know the answer just yet. “Let’s move to the bedroom, yeah?” You didn’t have any energy left in you as you nodded again and let Baekhyun wrap your legs around his waist tightly and rise up from the couch, carrying you into his bedroom to be lost in the pleasure once more.

[gavetawrtes]

okay i am literally in the process of leaving my job rn, college only starts in February and i want some plots so pls check out the plots here under the read more and if anything sparks your interest pls like this so i can message you or just message me !

mumu

something based on friends ?? a tiny thing where we get 3 characters each and they can be heavily based on the friends character or just a little bit ? then we can have like relationships between them . friendships ? old flings ? siblings ? different dynamics for each of them and threads with more than one at the same time. they always go to the same coffee shop together or they are always in each others apartment. a has a thing for b but b is oblivious and b has always been bffs with c and so on. honestly it can be so much fun and so pure ? pls i deserve nice things

oKay but like wizards in a wizarding school ? ? i would say hogwarts but that world is a mess right now so we could make our own lil world? where like we decide the subjects and the kind of magic and all that. it could have aspects from any magical world we want like idk hogwarts house or like different types of magics ( physical, natural, Illusion, healing, psychic ) from the tv show the magicians. and honestly whatever else we want ? we can throw our lil characters into it and populate this little world with tiny plots like ‘our houses are eternal rivals and i intend to crush you at this quidditch game but also pls go to the winter formal with me bc you are the prettiest person in school ?’ & ‘my family has been historically amazing at physical magic but i’m really bad at this. you seem amazing pls teach me so people will stop making fun of me’ & ‘i didn’t know magic existed and now i do and this is all new to me how is the frog talking and why are you not scared at any of this ? ? ‘ && ‘whhy do you think it’s cute to be the skater punk version of magical world and fly standing up in your broom ? you could seriously get hurt ? and see there you got hurt. what do you mean ?  help you with healer magic ? no i don’t want you to get expelled but we should call a teacher !’ and honestly whatever else you can think of 

okay but like a group of high school friends and their older selves ?? ?  ?? ??  like we could set all the high school threads in the 80s ?? ? ? ?? ? and have different personalities ? and then we also have threads like in 2018 years later when they see each other again in the high school reunion ? just ? pls? the high school sweethearts who signed the divorce papers three years ago and we are doing both the thread in which they fell in love and the one where they see each other again for the first time after the divorce. the high school rebel who became the local sheriff and the girl he loved who used to be the biggest nerd who had a thing over their last summer. we are doing both their wild adventures and them seeing each other again for the first time bc she moved back with her parents. the two best friends who remained best friends for all those years and they are seeing all of those people again and it’s just like ‘oh man glad this didn’t Help to us’ and we can have them as teens bickering and making fun of their teacher and them years later at the bar like ‘i miss having adventures like we used to’ there are so many possibilities ? for like people who grew disillusioned with their lives ? or people who got really successful . ? people who stopped talking altogether ? people who remained friends forever ?? ? plspls it could be so nice

Okay but a group of old immortals/wizards/witches ? something a long the lines of the originals but they are not all siblings or the hogwarts funders but there is no school involved. like they have known each other for centuries and they have been friendly-ish. they probably got a hand in many important world changing events in history and like maybe they have to come together and stop the apocalypse every 500 years or one of them call them all up and it’s like ‘hey guys so skarsgård is going all ruler of the world again and i can’t stop him alone bc he is more powerful than me so could you pls? help me?‘ ? ? ? ? there are so many possibilities. we could play with different types of characters like ( one wizard who spent the last 100 years in a hole on the ground and he is just done with humanity while there is another one traveling around and trying to write a beautiful book about humans and life but it lowkey sounds like a fake deep tweet ) or like hundred years old relationships where they go ‘making me jealous in 1954 didn’t work why do you think it’s gonna work now?’ or smth like ‘baby we have been together for 3 centuries and you still make me blush’ OR OR  we could get more into plot like half of them go ‘i’m done with saving humans every hundred years. maybe skarsgård is right and we Should rule the world’ while the other half goes ‘what ? no humans are amazing? our job is to save them ’ and just those super mega powerful wizards fighting each other ? pls we could go in whatever direction you want just pls let me play incredibly powerful wizards

the PTA group ?? i love playing older characters but also like there are so many possibilities and it could be legit funny and full fluff and angst like ? we have those two married characters who are a perfect couple but maybe they are not that perfect ? the single parent who is just really Trying but is always late ? the divorced couple who is only participating bc the other is and they wanna show how much Better of a parent they are ? the teacher who loves to do all of this and is honestly worried about everyone drama ? the teacher who Had to sign up for this bc it was given to them as a punishment after they didn’t something and they are just standing there like ‘why are all of you so extra? just go home. you know this is optional now?’ everyone getting involved in each other’s business ?? ? everyone being lowkey friends ?? ? dR a Ma also all the supportive parents going to the kids games and the kids just being super happy

a greek god mumus ??  maybe we pick two ships and develop them like ( idk hera & zeus and hades & persophone ) or we just pick around the characters we wanna play. and we can have like all of them stuck in the real world, stuck in a human body. zeus wanting to fly to be an eagle to go somewhere but being stuck to earth. being the biggest asshole in the face of this earth but also not being able to let hera go? ? not knowing how to function properly when she is not around. and maybe idk maybe in this life hera doesn’t stick around. maybe in this life the only reason why they are still legally together is because he didn’t sign divorce papers, maybe she is done with him and done with trying when he clearly doesn’t give a fuck. maybe in this life she is a wedding planner and when people ask her to plan their marriages she gives them advice on knowing when to be forgiving and when to stick up for yourself. hades is the leader of a biker gang but he is mostly really quiet and chill and he has three pit bulls who just hang around him and do nothing of true harm ?? and the only person you can actually be terrified of is his wife ? ? bc even tho logic dictates otherwise it seems like she sets fire on the concrete she walks through and makes plants grow when she passes by and it baffles every existing human ?? and hades being ‘listen man i would forgive your betrayal but my wife i mean, she kinda asked me for your head and i can’t say no….’ chris evans a poseydon, poseydon as a surfer dude ??  as a guy who works/owns an aquarium and understands the animal there in a way that doesn’t make sense to anyone else ?? who has the biggest pools for the animals to swim around, even if it makes looking at them harder for whoever is vising, bc all those animals have been raised in captivate and they wouldn’t survive in the ocean but he doesn’t want them to feel stuck ? he wouldn’t know what he would if he couldn’t swim around  in the ocean and he just wants them to feel free even if he can’t free them. ?? there are so many ways in which things can go ? i mean honestly i’ll shower in headcanons pls gimme.

this is the last one i promise but a plot with a bunch of criminals maybe ex-navy/army who work together. maybe based on the losers ?? where you got like the leader of the group who makes dubious decisions when there are woman involved and the stoic explosions specialist who knows the leader so well that the moment the leader flinchs he goes like ‘imma take over now. okay? okay.’ maybe you got the gun slinging asshole who makes inappropriate jokes and the person who is just Too Qualified to be around this sea of idiots. maybe they were all framed for the same crime and they have to live in the shadows hiding in a city in the middle of nowhere pretending they are normal civilians. maybe they were all trying to save someone and it backfired and they wanna go back to their lives but how  ? ? idk there are so many possibilities just pls.

1x1

muse a is hopeless romantic that may or may not be more in love with the idea of love itself than he has ever be with anyone. he quits relationships as soon as they get a tiny bit complicated but he is always talking about ~~~~ soulmates ~~~~. muse b the girl who is way too generous and helps everyone out of the kindness of her heart but expects way too much from everyone. she is always falling in love with people and breaking her own heart by thinking they care more about her than they really do. — now close your eyes and imagine. .. . there is so much potential for angst and fluff ?? ? like he prepares overly dramatic moment in front of everyone and like serenades her ? paints her as his muse and puts it up in galareis ? but also one fight and he talks about breaking up bc that is not true love ? while she is there just interested in the tiny things ? in the days at home with him alone and the way they make each other laugh ? she is such a simple girl and they make each other so happy and he just Can’t see it ? ? ? pls 

muse a is the overly responsible single father/mother had to take care of themselves and his son/daughter ever since they can remember. they Cannot Relax because they must do 110% percent at all times for his kid. muse b is the mother/father of three who laughs way too easily and embarrasses his/her kids dancing in public and cracking bad jokes but they are so bad with time and like doing the Simplest things… — now just .. .. just picture. ..  the two of them meet at a school thing and become friends like maybe everyone talks about the two hottest dads in school getting together maybe they are talking shit about Sharon who doesn’t tell her son no and they bond bc ofc they do. .. and it’s totally like pfffftt pfffffffffff we are just friends .. . expect ‘i knew you would forget your kid’s lunch bc i know you so i packed one for your kid too’ and ‘yeah i know you have a kid but i have a babysitter and we are going out bc you are not Allowed to stay inside another Saturday’ and ‘ofc i’ll go with to the game’ and ‘yes we would love to spend the holidays with your family’ and ‘we are just two bros chilling on a hot tub 5 feet apart bc we are not together. the fact that i wanna kiss you doesn’t change anything.’

characters i would love to play in any plot

okay, so here is the thing, i have two characters. they are super wealthy brothers. one is your local asshole i’m too cool for feelings. he is in his 30s and he goes around partying and making bad decisions and he made himself a successful businessman on his own just to spite his family bc they said he couldn’t do it. 99,99% of his decisions are made either based on anger or just so to feel good. the other one is your local golden boy. he is everything his family ever wanted him to be, and he was a child prodigy type who graduated college super young and has never acted like a child. he is his early 20s. 99,99% of his decisions are made based on what he thinks people want him to do and he just wants to please everybody if you would let me play them in literally any plot  ( preferably like some tiny mumu, i have two characters, you have two characters type of thing ) i’ll literally give the sun !! or cookies !! or anything really omg !! they also have a younger sister so maybe you could play her? ? or you could play some character who is dating the younger brother is starts to fall in love with the older and drama~~ or it could be some two character that you would like to play? like any two characters you wanna develop and we figure out a plot? pls? thanks

[sanrionharbor-blog]

Thoughts on Sansa S8 Endgame

Speculations galore! Long post ahoy!

Let’s run through every possibility I can think of for the end of show-Sansa’s story (and yes, there will be many more possibilities besides these because GOT is layers upon layers, man, I’m still new to the fandom, and there’s probably a lot I’ve missed).

At the very least, let’s do this categorically.

Dead, Alive, or a Fate Worse Than Death?

1. I’d bet money that Sansa survives the whole dang thing

2. But if she does die…it could be A) Sacrifice to save Arya, Jon, and/or Bran, B) in a possible collapse of Winterfell, C) after ensuring the demise of Cersei or a similar threat, D) something worthy of a song

3. Crack Theory: Sansa Becomes the Night Queen?

Shipping...

1. Let’s start with the most popular ship: Jonsa. While I’m not personally a Jonsa fan, I neither hate it nor see it as a complete impossibility. And while I’m not personally a Jonerys fan, I neither hate it nor see it as a no-brainer. Jonsa makes sense practically (uniting Targ and Stark, North & South; they already trust one another; cousin marriage isn’t considered incest in-universe, etc.), though I’m not entirely convinced if the show goes this direction that it would be the most romantic ship ever. The best I see is that it has vibes similar to Ned/Cat when they were first married to one another; they didn’t love each other romantically at first, but it would come with time. As for political!Jon Theory making this ship possible, while I wouldn’t completely put it past the GOT universe to make Jon that cold, it honestly doesn’t jive with what I think is at the core of Jon: which is a hardscrabble sort of nobility, decency, honesty. I mean, if he was politcal!Jon, wouldn’t he have come up with a smoother way to handle Cersei in their first meeting? Anyhoot, the ship isn’t hateful. I think the biggest obstacles are the fact that, even though they are technically cousins, they were raised as brother and sister. You don’t just erase that. This is somewhat “remedied” by the fact that they were never close and Sansa pretty much treated him as a whole-lot-less-than-a-brother for most of their childhood. But GOT has never shown incestuous relationships (again, I don’t really consider historically based cousin relationships as incestuous, but it is a close family bond never-the-less) as a good thing. At all. The Targ’s went mad; Dany’s brother was creepy as fudge; UMM Jaime x Cersei dear Lord; Craster and his Merry Brood, etc. (But this mainly just spells doom for Jonerys, IMHO). So, as with anything in GOT--it’s possible, it’s also not possible, there’s undertones, but there’s undertones for the complete opposite thing happening, etc. Lastly, as for the “romantic framing” of S7, I think it falls under that same maybe/maybe-not. I LOVE Jon and Sansa’s dynamic, even if I don’t see it as romantic, even if does or does not end up romantic. It is certainly one thing: intimate. And the framing (forehead kiss, bittersweet reunion, worrying for one another’s safety) supports that at the very least. If they don’t end up romantically, Jon is the last real strong male relative that Sansa has. That’s not to diss Bran, but D&D have made him a remote magical old man stuck in a teenager’s body. In some ways, he’s dead to Sansa too (as Meera said, “You died in that cave.”). The poetry, the irony, is that the people Sansa had the most problems with in her family (Arya and Jon) are all that Sansa has left now (yes, yes, I love Bran, but again he’s acting more like a solo unit than a family unit at this point)--and she realizes how much they’ve always meant to her. Jon, and Arya for that matter, are different sides of Sansa, just as she is a different side for each of them. The parallels are lovely, and this ship could very well set sail.

2. My personal favorite: Sanrion (Sansa x Tyrion, Tyrion x Sansa, whatever the preferred parlance is). Yes, I’m biased, so this entry will be the longest--BUT, let’s remove my shipper goggles. This, to me, is just as possible as Jonsa. That is, I don’t see it as guaranteed at all, but there’s plenty to read from the text. Let’s get the trouble spots out of the way: 1) the build-up has been few and far in-between since S4 (though they did throw us a bone in S7). 2) the 50/50 chance of Tyrion dying in S8 (no, I’m not basing this on “leaks,” interviews, or what-not--I’m just using this as a baseline guess, given that this is GOT and given that Tyrion is at the center of a very dangerous web of relationships), 3) the show possibly not wanting to ask a twentysomething actress and a nearly 50-year-old actor to act out anything deliberately romantic (however, I don’t expect an on-screen ship to be anything but unconventionally romantic--I very much see it being done with subtle dialogue, color theory, ambiguous looks, an epilogue, etc), and 4) Tyrion may or may not be in love with Daenerys. None of these trouble spots spells doom for me. The greatest “doom” is simply Sansa ending up alone (thematically possible) or with someone else (also thematically possible). Let’s break down counter-points to the trouble spots, then I’ll list my reasons why this ship could sail. 1) Almost all relationships in GOT are troubled and/or unconventional, built up over one season, hidden underneath layers of symbolism, or suffer from the fact that one or both partners are either dead or seperated (by this same token, Sansa’s other popular ships, Jonsa and Sansan, also suffer the same dearth of “development” or copious screen time. Arguably, Jonsa’s foundations were mostly built over the later seasons), 2) yeah, Tyrion could die (and I would be heartbroken but not blindsided) or Tyrion could live (but I would bet money that Sansa lives through the whole thing), 3) the show already put them through the most awkward phase of their “relationship” (i.e., their wedding night, though it was toned down compared to the books) and they can still sell this relationship in any number of ways (again, dialogue, color theory, looks, just holding hands again geez Louise), 4) Tyrion’s “love” for Daenerys is incredibly debatable and may only be used as fuel for a soap opera plot that I really hope doesn’t happen, but even the director of the S7 finale said Tyrion’s main concern was political and Dinklage proposed the idea that Tyrion only “think he’s in love” with Dany, that what most people feel for Dany is awe (I’m neither a Dany fan or hater, but it’s hard to deny that she’s shocking, enthralling, powerful, attractive, a force, for lack of a better term). Now, on to the practical/thematical reasons why I think this ship would work. Let’s use letters for this, haha. A) Fairy Tale parallels/Turning Tropes Upside Down: It’s easy to read inversions of fairy tale archetypes into Sansa’s storyline, as that is what her character is naturally drawn to: songs, princesses, true love, beauty. So far in the story she has learned that looks can be deceiving; life is not a song (though I wouldn’t be surprised if GRRM turns this on its head again, and Sansa simply learns that all great tales involve sorrow and darkness as well as joy and light--i.e., bittersweet vs. simply sweet); people are not black and white (Tyrion shows her that the Lannisters aren’t necessarily all evil and Littlefinger shows her that allies, even someone who loved her mother, are not necessarily all good); etc. Just some of the fairy tales/tropes that play into Sansa’s personal storyline and the subtext of Sansa x Tyrion include: Beauty and the Beast, Psyche and Cupid, Hades and Persephone, The Princess in the Tower archetype, and many, many more (I’ll meta about it one of these days--and there are already many excellent posts under the Sansa tag that expound on these). B) The Queen Elizabeth Theory: So Sansa has parallels with two remarkable historical Queen Elizabeths: Elizabeth of York and Queen Elizabeth I.  Since this has been said by so many before, here’s a quote and link to the article as summary: “The show is based off the War of the Roses, the real-life family feud between the Lancasters and Yorks that ended with the two broods combining their houses. Since the storyline happening at the end of season seven is extremely similar to this moment in history, we can infer that GoT will follow that path...” Link  C) Character Actions Written Especially For the Show: Just to name a few: GRRM purposely changed a moment in the books to where Sansa hands Tyrion a cup instead of him having to crawl underneath a table to do so; Tyrion remains loyal to his wedding vows (and this is probably inspired by his trauma for having killed his father and lover as well) even when it was very possible that Sansa had left him high-and-dry and the marriage was, in Tyrion’s own words, a “sham marriage”; Sansa and Tyrion both stick up for one another’s character, etc., and D) Also, aren’t they technically married? :-p [There’s a lot more, but again, I’ll save that for a future meta]

3. Sansan: While there may end up being a slight possibility in the books, I don’t think show-Sansa and show-Sandor are heading in this direction. However, the same fairytale motifs play into play here: Beauty and the Beast, Hades and Persephone, etc. Also, bridge4 over on Youtube has a fabulous analysis of the “unKiss” over on his channel, which I think could pop up in some shape or form in S8. Here’s the  link

4. Sansa Alone: Also supports the Queen Elizabeth theory. Specifically, Elizabeth I “the Virgin Queen.” This would a different form of poetry/irony: Sansa, the one who wanted most to be a queen consort and be married to a handsome king and have babies, ends up as a queen (full-stop) but leverages her power as a single lady. Not my favorite ending for Sansa, as I’m Teh Unabashed Romantic, but it’s plausible, thematic, pragmatic. Only time will tell!

The Fate of the North, Night King, Direwolf Theorizing

Just spitballing various takes:

1. The war is “won” (as in mankind survives), but Winterfell or possibly the entire North is compromised. As in, perhaps they have to trade the North to the Winter King at the promise he won’t invade the rest of Westeros. Or Winterfell explodes, so the North and all of Westeros is saved but the Starks lose their home

2. The Starks deliberately blow up Winterfell, for any number of reasons. Perhaps a bunch of wights or what-nots ended up there. Perhaps the dead in the Crypts were resurrected, and this was the only way to neutralize that threat. Or something deeper and darker lurks in the Crypts, something worse than the Night King. In fact….

3. Maybe the true enemy ends up being something awoken within the Crypts of Winterfell, and the Night King is not what he seems….

4. The old gods play an unexpected role

5. The godswood is burned or ends up in splinters or is used to create a new throne (ending the age of iron, fire, blood and making this a “time for wolves”)

6. Sansa’s direwolf Lady is resurrected (of course, poor Lady is headless…) and manages to wound Cersei (if she gets her arse up north, which seems unlikely) before Cersei’s killed by whoever the heck the Valonquar is

7. Speaking of, could Ghost be the Valonquar? I mean, he was the runt, the littlest brother of the brood. Eh, dunno. I just don’t expect the Valonquar to be anything close to what we think he/she/it/them is.

8. I like the idea of parts of the ocean being permanently frozen over because of something the Night King does. Dunno why. I don’t think there’s any foreshadowing to that in the show; it just sounds cool, and represents a permanent consequence to the land. Because I do not expect there to be zero consequence for the landscape of Westeros itself. The Greyjoy’s are already kinda sorta doomed (with eunuch Theon being the last male of that line, unless Euron’s got a kid somewhere and he ends up surviving to take the throne and not be a dick about it), so it’d be a bit of tragic poetry if their islands, their seas were frozen and lifeless but thanks to their efforts the rest of Westeros is safe and their people will have to make a life on land

9. One or both remaining dragons are frozen for all timez

10. Sansa becomes Queen in the North or Queen of the Seven Kingdoms (is there really an in-between?)

Bonus

Lastly, here’s just an observation on an important part of Sansa’s storyline and character development: Arya Stark. I believe Sansa and Arya adopted different pieces of the original storylines in GRRM’s book proposal outline--not that I put much stock in the outline. Sansa was created, at first, to add tension to the Stark family. GRRM says he was surprised by Sansa’s developments; he also says he empathizes with whichever character he is currently writing, so I think he just naturally found things that he liked in Sansa that made her more than a complication device. Because his original vision included Arya as the sole Stark daughter, I wouldn’t be surprised if Sansa and Arya aren’t the result of this once singular character being developed into two very different ways. The archetypal Amazon Wild Child and the Princess in the Tower. Two sides of the same coin--or, in Ned’s words, Sansa is the sun to Arya’s moon and vice-versa. For this reason, I don’t put it past Sansa to continue developing her personal brand of Brave Northern Lady and Arya developing her personal brand of Brave Northern Lady. Because that is what they both are: brave, northern, ladies. Will Sansa find herself at the center of a love triangle? I really, really hope not, but at this point if it is gonna happen I find it much more likely with Sansa than with Arya.

[whitewolfofwinterfell]

Jonsa

Grab a drink and some snacks and make yourself comfy, because this is gonna be a long ride.

My opinions on Jon and Sansa as a pairing are very complex. In the time that I’ve shipped them I’ve gone through these different phases where at some points I’m hardcore for them and other times I’m not really that fussed about them. Currently, I’m somewhere in between. Before I get started, you can read what I’ve previously said about Jonsa here (just scroll to the bottom, they’re the last ship I talk about).

The thing that drew me to Jonsa as a ship is the chemistry. To me, when Kit and Sophie are on-screen together I don’t feel like I’m watching siblings (even when the dialogue and circumstances portray that), I feel like I’m watching lovers. The eye contact, the tension, the tenderness; it’s all there. Every single scene they share feels like it has an undercurrent of sexual and/or romantic tension. It was that tension that led me to stumble across the Jonsa fandom and I was immediately like, “hey, so, I’m not the only one!”. Because you know when you’re watching something and you sense that chemistry between two characters that you know probably shouldn’t be there and you think you’re going crazy? Well, that was like me with Jon and Sansa.

There are so many aspects of the ship I enjoy and their story is beautiful to me in lots of ways. The fact that they grew up estranged, then parted ways, endured awful tragedies and finally found each other and began to heal as a result of that is beautiful to me. Jon and Sansa both reserved themselves to the fact that they would never see or be with their family again, and the emotion in their reunion scene encapsulates that immense surprise and relief that they feel at having found each other. I love that Jon was amidst a deep dark depression following his resurrection and was ready to give up on everything until Sansa walked back into his life and gave him a purpose; a reason to fight. Her strength and determination that they needed to reclaim Winterfell impassioned him to join her and fight for their home, for what what rightfully belonged to them and their family. I love that despite the fact that they were each others least favourite sibling growing up they were able to have a second chance and forged an incredibly unique and special bond as unique as the bond they had with any of their other siblings.

Psychologically I find Jonsa fascinating, because I think the possibility of Jon and Sansa developing romantic feelings for each other speaks to the experiences and traumas they’ve had. They both endured so many horrors and regardless of the coldness between them when they were children, for them the Starks and Winterfell have been and always will be their safety and strength. So in each other they found that literal embodiment of home and family, of safety. For Sansa, Jon is the only man she can truly trust after being used and abused by a string of men. For Jon, Sansa is his purpose; someone he needs to protect and that’s important because Jon as a person is built to protect others, that’s what drives him at all times and without that he’s lost. There’s a reason there’s so much emphasis on Jon’s instinct and desire to keep Sansa safe (besides the fact that he loves her and wants to protect the future of House Stark), and it’s because her safety has become one of the two sole purposes of his life (the other being to end the Night King). It’s funny because whenever I see criticisms of Jonsa as a ship it’s mostly about how gross or wrong it is because they grew up as siblings and are blood related, but that connection, in my opinion, is specifically a part of why they make sense as a pairing. It’s complicated for me to explain, but I’m going to give it a try. But the way I see it is that they grew up distant enough that they didn’t develop a full brother-sister bond so there isn’t that whole “ew he/she is my brother/sister” vibe between them. However, the familiarity they have and connection to Winterfell and the Starks draws them to each other. They longed so much for home and for family that it makes sense that when they found each other their feelings for each other would become conflicted, particularly when there’s that lack of brother-sister bond from childhood.

However, despite how much I love Jonsa, I’ve realised that I like the possibilities and tropes associated with the ship more than the actual ship itself. I guess you could say that I’ve been conditioned by fanfiction and meta to perceive Jon and Sansa’s relationship in a certain way, but over time (especially recently) I’ve come to realise that in canon they’re not necessarily written that way. For example, on the show they’re written as being quite untrusting of each other and resistant to work together. Sansa calls upon the Knights of the Vale without telling Jon about her plans, Sansa constantly questions Jon’s decisions, Jon rarely listens to Sansa’s ideas and has to be told to listen to her because she might actually have valuable advice and insights, he barely writes to her when he’s away south in season 7, he bends the knee to Daenerys without consulting her first and even in the season 8 premiere, there’s still that kind of vibe between them where Sansa doubts Jon and he’s fighting for her to trust him completely. There is a lot of conflict between them and that’s not necessarily a bad thing, because all the best ships have conflict, but I think that until recently I failed to see that this conflict existed between them and projected my own perception of them (shaped by fanfiction, fanvids, meta etc.) onto their canon relationship.

Following on from that, based on 8x01 I’ve also realised that I have some issues with the way Jon and Sansa are being written. Their scene in that episode and Sansa’s behaviour generally throughout the episode is an exact repetition of what’s been going on between them since season 6. They seem to be stuck in the same cycle - Sansa picks at Jon and questions his decisions, Jon gets frustrated that she doesn’t trust him and she then confirms that she does trust him, despite all of her words and actions being the contrary. At this point, it’s just bad story-telling because it’s been established repeatedly that Sansa does trust Jon and vice versa (Jon left Winterfell in her hands, the ultimate symbol of trust), so why are they still writing them this way? If Sansa has faith in Jon and she knows it and he knows it, why is she questioning his decision to bend the knee? At this point in their relationship, Jon and Sansa should be united. They definitely needed to have a conversation about why Jon bent the knee, with Jon apologising for doing so, but immediately after that all of this tension between them should be put to bed because it’s being unnecessarily dragged on when it no longer makes any sense. However, I’m trying not to be too judgemental about their scenes in this episode, since it’s only the first episode out of 6. There’s still plenty more to come from them and it could go in a much better direction from here onwards.

Generally, I hold a lot back when it comes to shipping Jon and Sansa, because I don’t want to get caught up in the Jonsa-Jonerys ship war (I’m still too exhausted from the Stelena-Delena ship war that took up 8+ years of my life lmao), but mostly because unlike most other Jonsa shippers, I don’t have much faith that they’ll actually be endgame. I’ve over-invested in so many ships in the past and I don’t want to do that again. I always try to be realistic with my ships, regardless of how much I love them, and in my opinion, the chances of Jon and Sansa being endgame are very slim. It’s clear that D&D are invested in Jon and Daenerys, and that that’s the main love story of their show. They condensed the development of their love story into one season so that they could make it a central plot for season 8, so the chances that they’re going to completely scrap that relationship or end it abruptly and go for a Jonsa endgame doesn’t seem feasible to me. The chances of Jon and Sansa marrying for a political alliance is more likely, but still not very, because that would require Jon not only surviving the war (which, I don’t think he will) but also fully embracing his parentage and proclaiming himself King of the Seven Kingdoms. Also, if you go to other sites and read fan theories or opinions, barely anyone thinks a Jon and Sansa endgame is feasible. So I suppose you could say I’m being cautious not to become over-invested in a Jonsa endgame only to be disappointed. The ending is going to be emotional enough without the added blow of being disappointed that my ship isn’t endgame.

Having said this, you don’t choose your ships, they choose you and whether I like it or not I am a Jonsa shipper. It’s my shipper heart that wants to believe they’ll be endgame and to trust in all of the signs I’ve seen that indicate they could be. I mean can it really be a coincidence that Jon and Sansa fulfil so many romantic tropes or that so many of their scenes share characteristics with romantic ships from the show? (x) (x) (x) (x). Sometimes I think that fans put more thought into analysing the show than the people that create it do (which I definitely think is true), but nonetheless great consideration is given to every single scene that makes the final cut of an episode. We know that GOT suffers from great time constraints since they have so many characters and plots to fit in and do justice, yet Jon and Sansa consistently get scenes. Familial relationships have been important throughout the show, but from my recollection no familial/sibling relationship has had the kind of emphasis Jon and Sansa have and certainly not scenes framed in the same way that theirs are (with the romantic undercurrents). And what’s the significance of showing us not one but two scenes where Jon physically threatens people because he’s so protective of Sansa? Why is it important to show us that? If Jon is really just Sansa’s big brother (cousin), isn’t it implicit that he’s going to be protective of her? We don’t need to be shown that unless it serves some other purpose. And why is so much of their relationship saturated with this ongoing tension? Starkbowl didn’t happen in season 7 (at least not between Jon and Sansa) and I doubt it’ll happen in season 8, since there isn’t enough time to fit it in, so the only real purpose that kind of tension serves is because there’s underlying sexual tension. There are so many what ifs about the ship, so many signs that indicate that we Jonsa’s aren’t just imagining their romantic chemistry, but I’ve been very wrong about this stuff in the past, so like I say, I’m proceeding with caution.

To sum up, because I could talk about this all day, my opinion on Jon and Sansa is that I love them individually and together. Their chemistry is fantastic, I love their relationship platonically and see a lot of potential with them romantically. I adore reading and watching Jonsa content and writing Jonsa fanfiction (they’re my favourite couple to write for out of all my ships). They are potentially the most interesting couple on GOT and could have such an incredible love story. If the show was to follow through and deliver what I believe should happen (political!Jon and Jonsa) I’d be ecstatic and have no hesitancy in proclaiming them my OTP. But, unfortunately, I have reservations so for now I’m keeping my guard up because my shipper heart has been burned too many times before. Instead, for the final season I’m trying to focus more on enjoying their relationship from a platonic POV and if they are endgame I’ll be over the moon, but if not I’ll love and appreciate the depth and emotion in their relationship no matter which direction it takes in canon.

Thanks for asking!

send me a ship and i’ll give my honest opinion…

[casskaykingston]

all the way in

TAGGING → @amytaylcr LOCATION → Cass’s House TIMEFRAME → Sunday, February 2nd

Three days ago Amy thought their fight and the aftermath had gone on for too long. Now, she was adamant on putting a final stop to it. Weeks' worth of introspection and careful consideration had given her more than enough food for thought and she was full of it now, ready to lay her cards out on the table for Cass to see, as well. How much or what would eventually fall from her lips she couldn't say, but she knew enough to understand that silence wasn't an option anymore. The night before he went on his camping trip had been one for the books, their fingertips spelling out tenderness that they felt for one another, love drawing affectionate whispers from their mouths that had last spoken out such harsh truths she was worried the damage could never be undone. But underneath the hurt and the anger that had driven them into the argument, at the heart of their relationship, was a love like she had never thought she'd feel, and realized would do anything to protect, even if it meant protecting it from herself.  

Especially if it meant that. 

Standing by the arrivals gate at the airport, Amy checked the board one more time, an assurance that she hadn't imagined his plane touching down, and shifted on her feet impatiently. There was so much she needed to say, so much they needed to talk about, but above it all, Amy just wanted to see him, to hold him again. This distance was so unlike them, and Amy was ready to go back to how things were, if that was at all possible. Suppose she'd find it out soon enough. Spotting his towering figure come through the automatic doors, Amy stood on the tips of her toes and waved her hand through the air. "Cass!"

It was one of the best vacations he'd ever taken. It hadn't been very long, not to an exotic or extremely fancy location and there had only been one person for company, but it was Matias. His best buddy, sounding board, closest mate. The time in the outdoors with him had been needed and bonding, bring them closer together and helping Cass approach what waited for him at home with more clarity and peace of spirit. Things had been better than they had in the past two weeks the night before he left, her warm sleeping form and quiet breaths the lullaby that had given him his best nights sleep since the last time she'd spent the night on Sunday. He still didn't want to budge, at least not entirely, but he was prepared to give Amy as much leeway as she needed. All the blonde w anted to do was have the subject broached, that was all. All he wanted was his girl, and a future with her. A desire that was never as simple as it seemed.

Disembarking with Matias, their easy camaraderie manifested in little jokes they tossed at each other as they walked through the terminal, carry-on backpacks slung on their shoulders. They stayed together up until bag check when a solid bro hug signaled their impending parting, Harlow waiting for Matias in a slightly different area. Duffel bag slung across him, Cass ruffled a hand through his overly long hair, beard matching and displaying how long it had been since he'd shaved. Clear blues start searching through the waiting family the moment he gets through the doors, intent on looking for one person. The woman who held his entire heart, and who was unfortunately pretty short and hard to spot. That was, until he spotted a waving hand, her eyes and top of her head peeking out of the crowd. "Amelia!" Boomed his deep voice, it's deepness causing the people around Amy to shift, the man who'd spoken  it absolutely beaming, hastening his steps.

Her name sounded over the heads of all the other people present at the arrivals gate, having spotted her petite frame, and a smile spilled across her lips. It hadn't been too long since she last heard it, hadn't been too many times that he called her by her nickname, but every time it happened it was a cut on her heart. For someone who detested the idea of being called as a person they no longer were, Amy had quickly grown used to the syllables of her full name rolling over his tongue in that deep, booming bass. The pace of her step quickened as she gained direction, and it was with her name still echoing through her mind that they finally stood in front of each other. Cass's thick head of hair a little messier than usual, his beard unruly; but the beaming smile on his lips was made all the more prominent with the kisses sun had left on his skin. Unable to control herself, Amy reached up and brushed her fingers against his cheek, hazel eyes tracing the movement her fingers made. "I've missed you," came the simple confession as she looked back up at him, arms coming to loop around his neck in a tight embrace.

The moments between getting in front of each other once more, her fingers touching gently on his grizzled cheek, and her arms wrapping round him are thankfully few, and for the first time in  over 72 hours Cass got to touch his girl again. Her hair, sunny touched and longer than it had been at their remeeting so long ago, brushing her shoulders, is what his face gets buried into. The familiar aroma of her hair products joins the warm comfort of her in his arms and whatever was jittery inside him settled. The longer he was away from her, the more unsettled he got, he supposed. "I've missed you too, baby. So much." The blonde pulls back enough to rub his cheek along hers, pressing his lips to the apple of it. "Hope it's okay I'm a bit scratchy." The light tan he also acquired hides beneath the jacket Wilmingtons weather forced him to don upon their return, but that could wait for later. "Thanks for coming to pick me up."

There was still some hesitation between them as they hugged and he touched her cheek, pressing his mouth to the fullness of it. Any other day and Amy knew that it would be impossible to break a kiss between their lips. Even so, with all that in mind, having him close to her, the familiar scent of his skin and clothes, although buried deep underneath the scents of nature and wilderness, had been enough to ease her worried mind. Whatever was going on, she reminded herself, they would pull through it. A smile stretched her lips wide as she nuzzled her cheek against his in response. "Everything's okay as long as you're not going anywhere else any time soon." To think there was a time mere six months ago when she felt as though she had to─ that she could─ live without him, it would have made her laugh now. "It's my pleasure. Shall we get you home?"

He'd always known he was the affectionate sort in relationships. Romantic - a brush of lips against her hands, an arm around her waist, a touch at the wrist, and platonic - an arm thrown around the shoulder, hugs, secret handshakes, high fives. It was just a part and parcel of how Cass threw himself into everything, body and soul. "The only place I'm going is home with you, baby. Your place or mine, I don't care. As long as you're there too." A chuckle, and he pulls back, throwing an arm around her shoulders and kissing her temple while they walk, heading out of the terminal. "What did you get up to while I was gone?"

Catching Cass up on all that he missed in the few days of his absence─ not that it was long or there had been many things to tell him about─ proved to be enough of a distraction for the ride to his place. It had been on pure instinct that she took the right highway exits that brought her closer to his Murrayville home than her downtown place, but a part of her had to admit that when she thought of home, that was the place she imagined. Not the apartment to which she moved in recent months, although it had been absolutely hers and just the right move. But it still didn't feel like home. The white walls didn't breathe the comfort of a place to which she would always want to go back, not in the way Cass's place did. Then again, it might have had to do with the person who lived there more so than the place itself. And a good night's rest was mandatory after the few he's had sleeping under the stars, which he wouldn't be getting on her mattress again. He would have more likely spent the night putting the bed frame together, in all honesty. 

Pulling up into his driveway, beside his forest green truck, Amy turned the ignition off and unlocked the door to let out Hudson, bouncing on his paws to greet his owner as Cass grabbed the duffel bags from the back of her car. "I think he's missed you, too. He puts my welcome to shame," Amy commented with a loving chuckle as Hudson stood on his hind legs and jumped on Cass in joyful delirium.

Three days hadn't made much happen at home, it seemed, but as the familiar territory sped past the windows and he gazed at her, it felt like a much longer amount of time. Since they'd gotten together, officially, for real, he couldn't be blamed if it that and Hudson had cultured a feeling of home to him. Of course when Cass was away for his thankfully not too frequent business trips he missed Wilmington, his home, his dog, and the family of friends he had found, but Amy had skyrocketed to the top of that list. How could she have not? Amy, who let him call her Amelia and had the most magical laugh in the world. Amy, whose pocket his hand belonged in and whose company he wanted always. Amy, that Cass wanted to come home to for the rest of his life. The smile that he wore for some of that trip was warm, to say the least, happy to be back with his girlfriend. Even if in a lot of ways, like Matias he too was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"Hudson! What a good boy, aren't you? I missed you too, buddy." Warm words tumble out in his deep burr as he sweet talks his dog, arms unfortunately busy. "I don't know about that.  He doesn't smell half as good as you, baby." The proper reunion occurs once they're inside and Cass gets to drop is bags in the foyer, taking a knee to scratch Hudson all over. The golden shepherd mix gave happy barks the whole time, tan and dark brown body wriggling all over in excitement, nonsense falling from his mouth as the blonde man baby talked his furry son. After giving Hud some attention, he finally stood up, one hand massaging at his shoulders, a bit sore from the flight and jetlag.  Cass takes a seat on the back of the couch, scratching for a moment at the bottom of his beard with navy blues trained on her. Their agreement to talk when he returned had come to fruition, and he wasn't certain of what to expect. Or if he even wanted to be the one to broach it. Making up his mind, he held a hand out to Amy, a small smile tugging at his full lips. "C'mere, my Amelia."

"Well, at least I have that on him," Amy joked with a playful roll of her eyes as she set the house keys down and made herself at home. It didn't seem like Cass and Hudson would be finished greeting each other any time soon, not with the string of lovable nonsense falling from Cass's mouth, or the tongue lapping out of Hudson's mouth in utter bliss as his owner's fingers scratched behind his ears. She went ahead into the kitchen and put the kettle on for some tea. Turning the heat down, she came out of the kitchen and into the living room where Cass was, right in time to see him rubbing at his shoulders. Making a mental note of that, she slipped her palm into his extended hand, and came close to him, free hand scratching at his beard. "Hi," she said softly, resting her forehead against his. The weight of the conversation they needed to have lay on her chest, but she cherished the moment, the closeness and warmth of his breath on her skin. "I'm making us tea. Do you want to shower first, or?" Or do you want to jump right into the big conversation about our future that I know you're dying to have?

The moment that passes after she offers him the choice seems to stretch into forever, staring into her eyes. There's hesitation in the multishades of brown, gold, and green that shine in Amy's eyes, hesitation and anxiousness and yet an impatience that Cass would be lying if he said that some part of him didn't share. It was strange, to be on the other side of it, to know your partner wanted to talk about something and you weren't sure it was something you wanted to dive straight into, and Cass didn't like it. He tightens his grip on her fingers and turns lips into her hand, kissing her palm, words leaping from his mouth. "Just a brief shower, if that's okay. Haven't been able to use running water in way too long. And I'd love some tea." Coward. An expletive Cass only growled inwardly at himself, that he didn't let show when he stands and rubs at the back of his neck once more. "I'll be quick." The tall man promises, kissing her briefly but softly before he makes his way to his bedroom, holding onto her hand until the last minute. Cass darts a glance back over his shoulder at her before he enters the hall, paired with a slight upturning of his lips that doesn't match the cheek he's chewing on, before he disappears.

It's the most mentally chaotic shower he's had in a while, suds running down his muscular form, lathering his hair and beard as Cass's heart thumps so hard he can feel it all over his body. There is no calm to be found in the luxurious room fitted out just for that, and it's a crying shame. Thoughts about what she would say, if she kept going down the path Cass had stopped her from before leaving, swirled round and round in his head, a cacophony of doubts that keeps him quiet under the fall of water. Even as he finishes, dries his face and body with his fluffy towel, drags on black briefs and matching joggers, it doesn't occur to him that Amy could ever go down the road he so desperately wants. Not after all the times she'd reinforced the fact it would be something she couldn't give him. A t-shirt that was once white but that's enduring enough washings that the butter soft fabric has turned grey is the last thing he pulls on, all the while mentally shoring himself up for their talk.

It must have been a first in their relationship, that Amy wanted to do something, to dive into a moment that would push their relationship from the standstill they were at now, and Cass wasn't eagerly awaiting her there. He had always been the one to instigate change and progress, and she the one to reluctantly follow behind. How strange it was that she held the key to move them further, and he was hesitant to even try the door. Was this what it felt like for him all these times? Unlike Cass who would push for what he wanted, Amy let him come to her when he was ready. They were both aware of the elephant in the room, staring at them, waiting to be acknowledged, but she would not be the one to force anything on him if he wasn't ready for it. As he went to the bathroom to get himself ready, Amy returned to the kitchen in time to take the kettle off the stove and pour the hot water over two bags of tea she had already prepared in each of their matching mugs. Christmas felt a lifetime ago, she realized as she turned the ceramics in her hands, waiting for the quiet of the shower to ensue. It was brief by no means, but Amy figured he had things to think through, as well as a task to complete. Eventually, when she tired of waiting, she took the mugs with her into the bedroom, just as he leaves the bathroom clad in his comfortable, stay at home clothes. "Tea's cool enough to drink," she said, placing it on the nightstand and taking a seat on the bed, the side on which she usually slept when she was over. She patted the mattress beside her, and reached into the drawer for a body lotion she kept there. "Come here. I'll get at those knots in your shoulders that are bothering you."

There is no better present to see waiting on your bed than Amy Taylor, bonus points if she's got tea, and it makes a soft smile curve on Cass's face. Much in the vein of wanting to come home to her, always, is the ability to see her simply around his place. The way it had been more like before she had a real place of her own. Humming in the kitchen, sleeping on his bed, her shoes near his front door and her smile something he could be gifted with around any corner. "You don't have to do that, baby. Though I won't say no." Cass rushes to assure her, because Amy's got some sort of magic in her palms whenever she sets about making sure his back feels better. He sits easily next to her on the bed, but catches her hand before she gets the lotion. "Wait. Before you work on the knots with your hands, let's talk first. It will help a lot with the stress, I promise you. Half your work done before you even have to lay a hand on me." The crooked grin disappears briefly when he collects her other hand and presses both to his mouth, tugging on them a bit so she comes closer. "So."

There were very few things Amy felt she had to do, especially with Cass, but this was never one of them. She took just as much pleasure in removing the tension from his shoulders as he did in rolling them without the stress weighing on them. And to know that something she did actually helped make him feel better, as opposed to the alternative, was always a feeling she wanted to bask in. "You know I want to," she promised, but before she had a chance to go about her mission, her hands were clasped in his bigger palms, and she looked up curiously from the hold he had on her, to the look swirling in his oceanic blues. In an instant, her heart went from its idle, paced beat, to a furious gallop, even though she knew this was coming. Scooting closer to him, one leg folded underneath her on the bed, she faced him better and trapped her lower lip between her teeth. "So," came the echo, uncertainty lacing her voice. How do you start something you knew you had to do but weren't sure you were quite ready to do just yet? "I guess we need to talk, huh? About... everything."

He waits for her to come closer with patience he hadn't seen to have had in any other point in their relationship, the safety of their surroundings working overtime to try and calm them both. Cass wasn't a fan of this feeling, anxiousness with the one person who calmed him more than  anything in the world, and he looks forward even more to the relief that will come after they talk. No matter what compromise the two of them come to, he has to believe it's in their future. One hand drops from their palms to fall on her thigh, and when he squeezes it is isn't from a standpoint of desire but of comfort. That they could get through this, and it was going to be okay. "Yeah. We do. Amelia, if I'm pushing too far just say the word, because I never want to make you feel that way. Or afraid of me, ever. But...are you open to have a conversation about it?" Cass is still afraid to say the word kids to Amy, unsure if it was a good move, but he keeps the assurance in his hand on her leg, blue eyes steady on her hazel.

Blueberries, the word flitted through her mind, an allusion to the safe word they’ve had on an occasion so far removed from where they were right now. An occasion that was framed in so much trust that was present now, too, but overshadowed with many of the worries that have infected the past couple of weeks. His words came as a reminder of the current that still lay underneath it all, strong and undeniable, and a small smile flirted with the corners of her lips as she lay a hand on top of his that held her thigh. “Blueberries,” she voiced the sentiment. Tension still gripped her shoulders tightly, but diminished somewhat as the topic was finally broached. The suspense of ‘we need to talk’ finally weakening its hold on her twisted insides. Instead, a flutter of winged things, bats or butterflies she wasn’t sure, took flight through the liberated parts. “I know. And I wish I could react in a way that’s different from shutting you down entirely when I panic. But... yes, I think I can talk about it now.” Now that I’ve had weeks to consider it, and a taste of a life without you in it as much as I’d like.

A callback to the night they'd spent after the winter gala, silk whispering against her skin and cries that he could still call to mind at a moments notice. Though they had still been at the stage wherein she hadn't said those eight letters to them, she'd shown him that night that her trust in him was something that couldn't be denied. Before Amy could tell him how she felt about him romantically, she'd told him that, a confession that tasted of the sea she'd so loved and followed with their first but far from last evening beach walk. Cass doesn't directly respond to it, more with a warm smile, her hand atop his anchoring them both. He gets a handle on the relief, knowing they were only halfway to the finish line. the hardest part was next. "Okay. That's step one. Step two is, you know I want kids. And you know I want you. Can I entertain the idea the idea that two can be had together? I'm not saying now. I'm saying at some point, maybe, before the clock runs out on our biology, could you see us having kids?"

Even if he hadn't told her as much when they were just getting to know each other, Amy would have no doubts about the future Cass wanted for himself. He was a family man, and that was clear in the way he carried himself, in the decisions he made, and the way he treated the people around him, especially his close friends and employees. Amy might have been that way once upon a time, something buried deep in her psyche that was only now blooming after the fifteen years long winter of her life, but she was still miles away from where Cass was, even if she was doing her mighty best to play catch up. A year ago, if asked, Amy would have shaken her head no at the idea of bringing children into the world. Some six months ago she discouraged it to the man sitting next to her now. But that night? Two weeks after she had screamed a firm, unmoving no, second thoughts have shaken up her core beliefs. "I know that," she nodded her head, her fingers slipping between his, her gaze glued to the movement. "Before I answer that, before I fully entertain the idea of that future, which I'm not saying I haven't thought of, but..." She trailed off, losing sight of the point she wanted to make. She drew in a breath, finding once more the course of her thoughts. "I know you felt as if in my fears I've excluded you from the life we'd have with these kids we'd hypothetically have, but Cass... I don't know if you can be as good a father as I can be a bad mother. And I don't know how to put that on the kids we'd have someday. Hypothetically."

It seemed he had had this conversation with everyone important to him but her. Of course, that was probably directly related to their argument about it and sought out advice, but it was still odd. As his girlfriend, and the closest person to him bar none, Cass told Amy everything first (with the exception of things he knew would freak her out). Their fingers lace together in the pause after his words, and he uses it as his own anchor, a support for the two of them through what wasn't a light subject. The fact that she'd at least thought about it, that it had occurred to her enough to have a feeling about it, was something he clung to with hope. Hope that morphed into incredulous frustration when Amy reiterates her belief that she wouldn't be a good mother. An idea that flabbergasted him on every level, and had him shaking his head immediately afterwards. "Amelia. Please listen to me. There isn't a universe in existence where you'd be a bad mother. You have so much love, love that you'd given me, your family, your friends. You take care of me when I need it, you're strong when I can't be, you don't compromise your beliefs but that doesn't mean you shut others out. You have all the ingredients a person would ever need to be a good mom." There is belief in every single one of his words, conviction that goes to his core, and it communicates in his voice and earnest gaze. Cass squeezes their conjoined hands, one hand coming up to cup Amy's cheek. "Hypothetically, as you said, I'm terrified that I could share any of my dads attributes if I get gifted with a child in the future. At the same time, I know that its that fear that will help keep me on the path of the kind of father I want to be. You know...metaphorically." He ends with a slight smile.

Amy heard him and indulged his request. She listened as he spoke, heard the iron-clad conviction and belief behind every word of assurance he told her, and the faith he had in her sparked some dead part of her heart. Minute and irrelevant in the grand scheme of things, but a part of her nonetheless. The voices and worms of doubt still gnawed at her, impossible to silence even when his words rang so loudly in the small space between them, and Amy squeezed his hand, but her head shook from side to side. "I... That's all when I'm clean and I'm sober. What happens i-when I fall off the wagon? When my need for a fix becomes greater than anything else? What happens if I pass on my weaknesses to an undeserving child?" The certainty with which she proclaimed such turn of events would have been chilling to someone else, but Amy had been on the path of recovery a number of times before and not once did it stick. Not even when it seemed liked it had. So why should this time be any different when she was no stronger resisting her urges now than she had been before? She was just... lucky so far. Wasn't she? The hand on her cheek forced her to look up and meet his gaze, the warmth in his blue eyes a surprise in the cool of its oceanic allusions. "You're never gonna be anything like your father. No matter what happens or where you end up, that's the one thing that's never going to change."

This was his girl. Big hearted and second chancing it and hard headed with the best of them. Amy's lack of belief in herself and what she was deserving of, was capable of, baffled him still. Cass didn't know where she'd gotten it from, where along the line she'd stopped putting faith in herself, but he'd push against that train as much as he could for her, whenever she'd let him. Her head shake is expected, if unhappily so, and more of Amy's fears make it to light. Painting a picture of a future that Cass was utterly convinced would not happen. It might not have been as many months as it could've been between them, but their bond was forged tightly. He knew her. And Cass believed in her, whenever Amy wouldn't. Dropped eyes are made to meet his, unsurety seen in them, that pretty mouth telling him that in no reality would his greatest fear take place. "Thank you believing in me like that. Let me do that for you too. Baby..." Cass moves his hand to her chin to capture it and tilt her mouth towards his own so he can lay one kiss on her. Okay, maybe two. Sue him if Amy's taste wasn't something he'd ever stop craving. It's after those that he gets control of himself and pulls back a bit, faces still close as Cass gazed into her eyes.

"There is no when you fall of the wagon, baby. There's barely an if. If you ever start to feel like that again, you've got a support system to help you fight through it. You have me, your family, your therapist, all your friends that love you. I'm confident you'd conquer it." He taps her chin for a second with his thumb before he removed his hand from her face entirely, twining back with hers. "There's no other partner that I've wanted kids with, ever. Cross my heart, other than you." And Cass was telling the truth. Even when he felt his deepest love for Kiera he'd ignored any of the fatherly longings that were full fledged now, never picturing offspring. Amy was the only one he'd thought of in that way. "Tell me this. Would you want kids with me as the father? I understand the hesitancy there. They might come out wearing Stetsons and converses and twice as hardheaded as me." It was another of the important questions Cass had wanted to ask, half sure of the answer but wanting it all the same. Wrapped in a joke, it highlighted one of the man's most premiere personality traits, his striving to lighten moments with a bit of a smile.

Amy was one of the many people who tended to see the best in others, to believe in them even in the darkest times, and she was willing to hand out as many second chances as necessary, so long as they proved they wanted to change whatever the issue had been. Ironically so, however, she was so generous giving those out that she had none left for herself. She was her own hardest critic, greatest adversary, the one who nagged at herself about all her flaws and all her mistakes. The voice could sometimes be drowned by the people in her life telling her otherwise, but that was not always the case. There hadn't always been people around to do that for her─ by her own design. Cass had picked up the mantle of her advocate, fighting tooth and nail against these convictions she's kept of herself for the past fifteen years, but no matter how booming his deep timbre, still waters do run deep and it wasn't always enough.

She leaned into his touch, into the pressure of his lips on her own. Lids slid over her eyes like shutters, and stayed that way as he began talking again. She loved him, she appreciated everything he did for her, but this was not something he knew firsthand. "You don't know any of that. It's a constant battle. Some days it's easier to fight, other days it feels impossible. And you're not always going to be around. What if it happens when I'm pregnant?" A chill went down her spine, spreading through her bloodstream. She would ruin the child before she ever gave it a fighting chance, more so than just making them susceptible to addictions. The admission she came higher than Kiera in his ideas and plans for the future warmed her heart, but she couldn't tell him the same, he knew that much wasn't the truth. She hadn't thought about kids in detail when she was mere seventeen years old, but she knew there would come a time when Brooks and her would have them. Well, would have come if he hadn't died. And that was when she changed her mind about the idea of them. If she couldn't have his children, she'd have nobody's. Children, love, happiness. Life. Those were all things she renounced with his death, but had slowly been reclaiming with Cass. Were children the next step in the right direction? Or were they a roadblock to happiness? A scoff pushed through her nostrils, and a faint smile tugged at her lips. "As long as they don't come out humming Kenny Chesney, I'm okay with the Stetsons and converses," she teased right back, fingers curling around his own.

Hazel eyes met the oceanic ones once more, letting the silence settle around them before she answered. "I wouldn't want anyone else to be the father of my children. That's not what I'm hesitant about, because I know those would be the luckiest, happiest kids in the world having you as their dad. And I'd be the luckiest, happiest woman having you bring them up with me in whatever capacity the future brings." Though she certainly hoped that a future scenario of that sort meant they were bonded for life with more than just promises made to each other, but that might be a conversation for another night. "Please don't take that as me doubting us─ I'm only ever doubting myself."

Amy wasn't wrong. The closest thing Cass had to compare to the poisonous love song of pills were the years he spent shamefully addicted to the power started to feel standing over another as the victor with their blood on your hands, one of the most Earth shattering signs to him that he needed to escape the lifestyle. He was under no sort of impression that the things could compare, the same Amy would never truly get the complications of his relationship with C.K. and how low it had (less so, recently) brought him over the years. He nuzzles her when she voices her quiet fears, the vulnerability in them pressing on his ribs cage. Why couldn't his girl put faith in herself? She was stronger than she knew. "No, I might not be around 24/7, but you are more than capable of taking care of it by yourself. Baby," he keeps her chin in his hand, trying to help the closeness communicate his earnestness, Cass's unshakeable belief in her that he was trying to share. "When you're pregnant, you'll have cravings and swollen feet and a round tummy with our baby in it. Your mama bear, which, don't  tell me you don't have because I've seen it several times, will kick in, I'm sure of it. You'll know what to do. What you have in here," and it's there that Cass let's go of her chin, pressing his palm above her heart. "Is more than capable of being an amazing mother. Kenny Chesney? If anything it'll be Johnny Cash. Gotta teach em the classics." The boyish grin comes out hesitantly to play, mercury quick, and in the back of his head Cass dazedly can't believe they're here. Actually joking about hypothetical kids. An impossibility not three weeks ago.

The sheer knowledge that Amy thought of him so highly, would only want him to be the father of her kids, mixed with the smug and happy feeling in his heart the moment it left Amys lips. Take that Cass thinks proudly at not particular person, insanely pleased with the fact. Perhaps a ridiculous sentiment, and their relationship status sort of dictated such a thing, but each thing he got from her was a victory in the eldest Kingston book. That alone makes him want to interrupt her with a kiss, the only thing stopping Cass being the words that continued to spill from her mouth. "There is no possible way you could be happier than me. I know you doubt yourself, but baby you don't see yourself the way I see you. Do you know who I'm dating? Who I'm love with?" Cass's last two questions are more like crooned demands placing both hands on her thighs to tug her forward so she's in his lap instead. The contact, he'd decided, was needed. Each thing he said following was punctuated with tiny kisses. "I'm dating Amelia Taylor. The smartest," Kiss to the forehead. "Most kind-hearted," One to her cheek. "Sexiest," one to her mouth, a little longer. "Strongest." To her jaw. "Jaw dropping gorgeous, endearingly flawed, owner of the cutest smile in the world. I know. That if she gave it a shot, at some point, Amelia Taylor would be a great mother to boot." And wife. And life partner. Things that to him were understood, to her not so.

When you're pregnant. The hypothetic scenario hadn't lasted very long, but Amy found herself somewhat at peace with the word choice. Sure, there was a part of her that roared in protest, slammed a metaphorical hand against the metaphorical table and argued they had not reached the when point. They were still at the if station, a fork in the road that could lead down two very different paths. But over the weeks that they had spent in quiet, simmering anger and disappointment, Amy had opened the door to the idea and realized it wouldn't be as bad as she thought. How was having children with another man any greater a betrayal than loving that man in the first place? And if she no longer saw it as that, if she came to understand Brooks would want this happiness for her, it followed the same thread of logic to believe he'd want her to have children, too. That issue was resolved soon enough, but the other, far greater monster still lingered, no longer obscured by shadows, baring its sharp teeth dripping with poison. Could she ever be a good enough mother? Could she ever do those innocent beings right by giving them birth into the mess of her life, involving them inextricably with all her flaws and mistakes? Her gaze dropped to his hand resting in the middle of her chest, right above the heart, and she worried her lower lip between her teeth. "I hope you're right," she said unconvincingly, not quite believing it all to the same level Cass did. After all, he didn't get to live inside her head every day of every year of her entire life─ an exhausting, hellish place if there ever was one. "I can let Johnny Cash slide." 

Cass pulled her into his lap, her legs on each side of him as he forced her to face him, for once nothing sexual about their proximity and position. Idle hands lay in her lap, between their bodies, and Amy listened to the list of ways Cass saw her in. Superlatives and compliments raining down upon her head bowed in modesty. No, she didn't see herself the way he did. She probably never would─ and for that matter, no one else would, either. Arguments and contradictions to everything he told her burned on her tongue, white hot and heavy, and it was with all the power of will in her being that she reined them. He showered her in kisses, along with the compliments, and after the second one, Amy held her eyes closed and tried to listen to him, to hear what he was saying. To see the picture he was painting. But all that took shape behind her eyelids looked nothing like the reflection that stared at her from the mirror. "I don't buy all that for a second," she shook her head, laying her dainty fingers against the thick cover of his beard, foreheads pressed together. "But I love that you see me that way and I hope to God I'm wrong and you're right. For once I'd be okay with that."

He was at a loss for once, but the frustration that filled all over six inches of him was not new to him. As someone who was always the first to put himself between those he loved and anything that hurt him, it chafed at him that he couldn't protect Amy from her harshest critic - herself. Of course it was an impossibility, he could no longer keep the voices in her head from whispering lies than she could keep him from the insecurities he felt to his core as well, but Cass couldn't help wanting to do it. Couldn't help wanting to fill her life with as much happiness as he could. "Good." Having her in his lap felt right, the same way it did each time, even when Cass knew his words weren't reaching her. He wished that by pressing her forehead into his he could communicate it to her, convince her of it too, but that was a dream. One that he hoped to acheive one day, if not today. "I know I'm right, even if you don't.  I'm glad you're okay with it. Because one day you're going to believe it too." He turns his head to press his lips to her hand, the touch of it on his beard intimately familiar to him. "At the end of the day..." Royal blues seek out hers, pulling back for a moment so that the muscular man could fully watch her face, for once calm. "Do you want kids with me?"

Want. An entirely different world to being open to the idea of kids, which was where they had started. But to want kids with Cass meant she wanted kids on her own, too, as this wasn’t something she could in good conscience just do for him. And did she? That was the tricky part. His whiskered mouth scratch against her hand as he lay a kiss to it, and when he looked into her eyes, searching for an answer, she bit down on her lip in thought. What should have been a resounding yes to any other girl was a hesitant maybe to Amy and she didn’t know how to say it without breaking his heart. “I can’t say anything about wanting them, but... with you by my side it’s... not out of the question.” Would that suffice?

It wasn't a no. At the end of the day, thats what he grasped onto, the hope that all was maybe not lost. That she understood that their bodies had a ticking time clock, that their deadline was coming up sooner than it was later, and Cass wanted a kid. One that he'd had a hand in making, that would grow in her. No one else. He knew that this was just the newest in his requests for things that Amy had buried with Brooks, locked her heart to it and thrown away the key long before he came back into the picture. Cass's nudging is what brought him here, his continued want to steal more of her possible future from the hands of a dead man, but he doesn't regret any of it. Look at what it had brought him, heartaches, and all? Time had taught him hesitancy, still knowing she could pull too far away for him to get to her, and under the calmness he's pulled taught as a bow. "Can I take that as not a no? As a, maybe we can reconsider it at another time?" Still not a yes, but it was something he could live with.

Perhaps it felt too soon to someone else to talk about children not even six months into a relationship, but that someone else wasn’t either of the people in said relationship. The turbulences they’ve gone through, all that they’ve overcome stood as a reminder of how committed they were to making it work, how much love there was between them that couldn’t be measured in the time past but the changes and growth willing to be made. And Amy had not changed her ways for just anyone. From the very beginning of their relationship, as far back as that first encounter by the fence, there had been a different energy about them, a giddy excitement no other man had given her. The kind she didn’t expect to feel ever again, and Cass had breathed fire back into her cold, dead heart. If she were to ever change her mind about what the future brought, those ultimate commitments and devotion that came with marriage and children, it would be for him. For Cass who loved her, flaws and all. Who fought for her when she pushed him so far away. Who had more understanding in his little finger than most people did in their entire bodies. That was who Amy could see fathering the children the future might bring someday, even if it wasn’t something she wrapped her mind around entirely. That would come, she imagined, aided by the feeling deep in her soul that Cass was the one— the one she would love, cherish, and care for for the rest of her life. That knowledge, however, she would keep safely tucked away in the hidden chambers of her heart for at least a little while longer. One step forward was all Amy could give him that night— especially when it was more a leap than a step.

Laying her hands on the sides of his face, the bearded cheeks and the chiseled jawline, Amy nodded her head and leaned in to kiss him. “It’s not a no. It’s a tentative yes to opening those doors again to more than the conversation. But if you let me, I would like to open it all up again when I feel ready. Is that okay?”

Two not a no's. Cass had already been luckier than he'd ever expected going into this conversation, her toned thighs on either side of him as he asked the impossible of her. He did it quite often, this giant golden cowboy and businessman who loved her, asking her for the stars. Pushing her beyond boundaries he was sure Amy had long since stopped thinking would even be touched by another, pressing against walls she'd had up for longer than they'd even known each other as teenagers and trying to get her to open her eyes to a future she buried with her boy so long ago. Now she cradled the face of her man, Cassidy, his lips pressing against hers as his arms held close the woman he wanted to have at his side, always. As far as he was concerned, Amelia Taylor was a necessary and required ingredient for a happy life, and it would always be the case. Even when she frustrated the hell outta him. When they were fighting or fucking or just freely with each other, enjoying simplest pleasure of each other's company. He wanted Amy. And Cass was getting as close to a yes as he was going to for now, though it was flirting with the proximity of it enough to bring him satisfaction for now. Besides - relationships we're compromises, right? "It's completely okay." He tells her after their kiss, keeping his growly tenor low as he presses his lips to her nose. "I'm content to pass you the baton on this one. Thank you for the tentative yes you were able to give." Cass gives her a pull and a twist and gets them further onto the bed, a knee pressing onto his comforter as he dips a whiskered chin and kisses her once more. "Seriously, baby. Thank you."

As he pulled her up higher against him and turned her around, Amy’s back fell against the mattress softly, with a slight bounce and a smile ghosting on her lips. The hardest of the conversation was over, she thought, their fight one that they had successfully resolved, even if it took them far longer than any other before. The days, weeks even, spent apart from him were not easy by any means. Every time she caught herself wishing to tell him something, she stopped and tucked her phone back into her pocket, wondering if they were there yet. With the conversation had, her allowances and promises given, Amy hoped that this would be it for a while, that their next torrent of worries and barbed words would be halted far away from them as they enjoyed each other and caught up on all they’ve missed. “No,” she shook her head against the comforter and reached up to scratch against his chin, trace the hard set of his jaws, the seam of his lips. “Thank you. For being patient and kind and loving me. Anyone else would have been out the door by now. I love you.”

Her fingertips touch his face with the care and affection that only a lover could give, the bushy face smiling down at her, framed a bit by warm light of his bedside lamps. This is what Cass always wanted, in the grand scheme of things, Amy in his home, in his bed, being the best thing in Cass's world and his favorite thing about leaving work to go see. For all their issues, the parts of their relationship that felt like 'red light green light's and when they stopped, he always had to look behind him to see where she stood, Cass loved her. Adored the way the liked to tease him and constantly poke the bear, searching for a reaction the deep well of kindness that sparkled in her hazel orbs and how firmly she took her stance on things, even if it frustrated the everlasting hell out of him. Loved the way she said his name and called him honey, the way she showed him how she felt with her lips even before she could express it and even now. He'd meant what he'd almost texted that night almost twenty four hours after her apartment had been left with shouting words and slamming doors, the words coming back to Cass as he nuzzled Amy on the bed, lacing their hands together. How could she think he could ever leave? Amy had too much of him. His heart, his soul, at the whim of her small hands and that dimpled smile. Who knew? "Anyone else isn't me. You are worth all of it, Amelia. I told you that back then, remember? Meant it then, meant it now. I love you too." My always for your forever. Rolling over, Cass likes on the bed next to her, hands still intertwined as his blue eyes raise to the wood ceiling, itching to bring something else up now that their biggest issue was now over. "Can I ask you something else? It's not above moving forward, it's actually about something that already happened."

Cass had told her that many times, and he would probably have to do it many more. The stubborn parts of her so obstinate and out of touch with reality that she could never quite come around to how Cass saw her, what he thought about her. A day might come when that image was less of a blurry outline, but for now his eyes would have to be the ones she used to tap her way through the dark. Her guiding force, the light she kept moving to. A smile stretched across her full lips, and her hand squeezed his more tightly as he lay on the bed beside her. The quiet of the aftermath settled around them, and Amy’s lids slid over the hazel of her eyes giving her a short lived moment of peace. Cass’s voice had her peering through one eye, then looking at him, alert and present in the moment. She shifted a little on the bed, cuddled into his open arms, and looked up to his face. “What is it?”

Even with the burning question dancing on the tip of his tongue, for a moment Cass is lost in the fantasy that her allowance gave permission to grow in his head. He had not so long since decided she was going to be the one for him; why would Cass look for anyone else when she was standing there in front of him? Dimpling, kissing, holding his hand on taking on the world with him. Amy made him feel lighter in a way he hadn't felt in untold years, and he was rock solid confident she would always inspire that in him. He looked forward to years they were going to spend together, and they were going to be years. Her permission to bring up kids at some point was the last green light Cass needed to start picturing their future together, one including an aisle and her walking down it. She settles into his side naturally, a comfort of behavior the two of them fell into awfully fast, and his left hand slipping under her shirt to stroke her tummy, his right drawing rough skinned fingers through her hair from the root, rhythmic and steady. "Sometimes I can't help but wonder what you were thinking that first night I said I love you. And...it's dumb, of course, but some part of me feels like whenever you say it, it's just because you're afraid to lose me." And not because you actually feel that way. Not fully.

In light of everything that had happened, all the turmoil they had been through, the tensions that had clouded their times together, Amy thought it was finally time to breathe easy as she snuggled into his embrace, her single most favorite place in the entire world. The warmth of his body so close to hers, the comfort his fingertips inspired as they danced through her hair and ghosted over her skin, it all worked towards easing the stress their relationship had endured over the course of the past few weeks. But it was a tentative, fragile kind of comfort that shattered like glass the moment the words rolled off his tongue. Incapable of keeping herself in spot, Amy was jolted upright into a sitting position, looking down at the man she loved, the man she had given every bit of her heart that she could at every possible turn, and listened to him question her love for him. "Cass," the whisper came full of disbelief, even hurt lingering there somewhere. After all this, was he really questioning her? "I was thinking about how I wished I could say it, because I've felt it, I've known it, but they're not words I throw around lightly. I couldn't say it back then, and I know it took me a while to get there, but I've only ever said that to Brooks before, no one else. It wasn't because I didn't feel it, it was because I needed time for my heart and my mind to get on the same page." It was as much an explanation for Cass as it was a defense of herself, shaking her head at the unspoken, underlying statement of it all.

"That's not it. I am afraid to lose you, but I don't use that as a bargaining chip. I'll love you whether you're mine or not, it's not something I can change, but I don't mean to tie you to myself by saying it. I only mean to tell you how much I care about you when I say it, how much of my heart you have and it's all of it, Cass." She took his hand, the great, rough palm, and splayed it on her chest where her heart beat steadily despite the tension that coiled her insides like a snake. "I love you with every beat of it, even when I don't say it, whether I'm afraid or not."

Through some miracle, his heart stays in the cage of his ribs even as the question leaves his lips.  Though Cass means what he says, that niggling doubt that wouldn't leave his mind during his weakest moments, when his fathers words permeated what he knew was true and planted doubts he'd always just managed to dispel. Somewhere in his core, the thirty two year old man knew that Amy's devotion and commitment to him was no small feat. His girl had been traumatized, irrecoverably changed by losing the love she wanted to spend the rest of her days with.  He believed her when she told him she'd never been with a man longer than a night after Brooks, could tell by the stubborn ways her walls refused to come down, the terror that still lived there. Cass had seen it that night she'd flung herself bodily in his soot covered arms, her first confession of love a torrent of emotion from what he'd believed to be a terrified place. The hurt in Amy's eyes and tone is the first reaction he registers, and it makes him push himself up onto muscular forearms, still reclined, blue eyes unsure if they should stay vulnerable or go guarded.  "You did?" They're a lighter rumble than he was expecting to come from himself, and he hates the tone of it. Wishes it didn't betray his emotions so often.

And then, as blue and hazel meet and Amy keeps talking, he can't stop the wonder that crosses his face.  Yes, it still killed him the smallest bit that she was afraid to lose him, to whatever cruel twist of fate might snatch him from her arms (he'd already told her she had too much of him he was never letting her go if he could help it - ), but what she said afterward? Felled him. Quietly and without much fanfare, but just cemented even more Cass's adoration of her. He never though another person would care about him to that depth, much less Amy. Amelia who had her loss tattooed on her body and her soul with loyalty twined within it, whose personal ghost she'd shackled herself to.  Amelia, who'd made so much progress since them. Amelia, who called him her boyfriend, who took care of their dog and supported him, championed him in a way no one else ever truly had. Who made him feel like he wasn't just a good man, but a great one, the kind that she made Cass want to be. Who, on his bed, in this home he'd built with his hands that was only complete with Amy in it, confessed to him that her love was not an occasional thing. It was an always thing, spoken with enough conviction that Cass, in that moment, truly believed her, heavy palms absorbing the beats of her heart into himself.  "Amelia. You're not going to lose me. You're never going to lose me. I'm never going to lose you." Genuine distress constricts his heart, that thing in his chest that beat for her only, and he expresses it with a hard, impassioned kiss, one hand at the back of her head.  I'll love you whether you're mine or not. "You know that I feel the same way too, right? All of me that I have is in love with you. There isn't one part of it that doesn't want you forever."

It was a question that followed her confession, and Amy's chest tightened, shrunk in on itself. Had she done such a bad job at being his girlfriend, at showing him just how much she loved him, simply because she hadn't said it as much or as soon as he did? In her eyes it did nothing to diminish the expanse of her affection, but perhaps Cass saw it in different ways, the scars he carried from his family and his childhood marring him even now. Always, probably. Thinking about it, the jigsaw pieces falling into place, it dawned on her that what she thought was a given implicitly, he needed to have spelled out otherwise he wouldn't believe it. Courtesy of the emotionally and verbally abusive father that C.K. had been to his only son. Whatever hurt she may have felt for having her ardor questioned, it subsided, sizzled out as it occurred to her that it might not have been about her after all. "Honey," she whispered, reaching over to run her fingers along his cheek, tender and caring. "I've been in love with you longer than either of us has known. I have a feeling I always will be," she admitted, a fleeting smile curving her lips as she said it out loud for the first time, both to him and herself. Cass sat upright and planted a kiss to her lips, searing and full of promise that, coupled with what he said, quietened the rational parts of her heart. These were the promises he couldn't keep hard as he might try, promises she knew neither of them had any control over, but she did not want to question him, not even for a single moment. Instead, for maybe the third time in her life, she threw all caution to the wind and nodded her head. She would believe him, that night if no other, that he would always be by her side. Hers to call. Her gentle fingers cradled the side of his face in her small palm, and her eyes closed over, the scent of him all she ever wanted to breathe in, his warmth the only sun she'd ever need. "I know. I've never doubted you for a single moment. And I hope you'll doubt me less from now on."