#utterly devastated when she dies and yet never clears up the one thing he *knows* she’s misinterpreted)

[tovaicas]

I think one of the reasons the way Ysayle was handled bothers me so much is bc a) so much of it relies on nobody in her life (new and old) ever telling her anything when they would know otherwise and b) the way the narrative wants to treat her as if she’s an awful person it’s ok to laugh at while also not wanting to admit that everything she said was right and that the thing she was wrong abt is pretty minor in comparison

[niccage]

God okay so I've been on my Teddy Roosevelt bullshit lately - why? we'll never know - and anyways Death CW, Death in Childbirth CW, and overall just Depressing Teddy Roosevelt Rambling Warning for beneath the readmore but yeah I gotta talk for a second about this bc I can't stop thinking about it

Alright so real talk I've been digging into Roosevelt's journal entries/writings from his time in North Dakota recently and I knew some about why he'd returned in 1884 (to grieve his wife, Alice, who died in childbirth, and his mother, Martha, who had both passed within 24 hours of each other in February of that year) but oh my god... it just gets so much more depressing the more I read.

So I knew that Alice and Martha had both died on St. Valentine's Day, but I hadn't realized that it was the four-year-anniversary of Teddy and Alice's engagement announcement (I say announcement specifically because it took eight months for Alice to finally accept Teddy's marriage proposal.) Teddy self-proclaimed that he'd never had any childhood sweethearts or boyhood crushes, nothing even close to a love affair before he met Alice in 1878, and while I'm not entirely sure I believe him about that, still, when you read the surviving journal entries about her, it's hard to not be convinced. He's just utterly smitten with her, almost enchanted, by the way he writes. "My darling Little Sunshine," "my laughing love," "my sunny faced darling," "a star of heaven," "my little witch of a sweetheart," and a personal favorite, written after a "long and beautiful" walk in Oyster Bay:

"How I love her! and I would trust her to the end of the world. Whatever troubles come upon me - losses or griefs or sickness - I know she will only be more true and loving and tender than ever; she is so radiantly pure and good and beautiful that I almost feel like worshipping her. Not one thing is ever hidden between us. No matter how long I live I know my love for her will only grow deeper and tenderer day by day; and she shall always be mistress over all that I have."

And it's just so clear from the way he talks about her, always, that this rich, goofy, chatterbox of a city boy is just so in love, and he's so young (his twenties!!!) but he talks about wanting to spend the rest of his long life with her, and he even says that he wants their daughter to be born on February 14th, 1884 because it'll be the four-year-anniversary of their engagement.

But then, his journal entry for February 14th, 1884 is just a giant black X, and then beneath it: "The light has gone out of my life."

After Alice dies, Teddy essentially never talks about her again. Not even to their daughter who shares her name (though he'd call her Baby Lee instead of Alice, presumably to not be reminded of her mother.) He rips up most of his journal entries about her, and burns all of their letters. He's twenty-five, and a single father, and a widow, and he's just so utterly devastated, and he's trying to throw himself back into his work but he's starting fights in the courtrooms and he can't sleep at night, and finally, it's like the only thing he can think to do is hightail it the fuck out of New York and return to the Badlands, a region he'd fallen in love with during an initial trip in 1883, and start cattle ranching, full force, full speed, as though he's been doing it all his life.

On February 17th, 1884, Teddy writes, in reference to Alice's death: "For joy or for sorrow, my life has now been lived out.” And Teddy's really not kidding when he says this: he is so eager, even more than he was during his first trip in 1883, to take on this new "real cowboy" identity that he just never, ever looks back to this "first life" of his, and yet, when you parse through all of the hunting logs and general surveys in his journals, you find some of the saddest, loneliest descriptions of the North Dakota landscape imaginable - some of the heavy-hitters:

“Nowhere, not even at sea, does a man feel more lonely than when riding over the far-reaching, seemingly never-ending plains; and after a man has lived a little while on or near them, their very vastness and loneliness and their melancholy monotony have a strong fascination for him.”

“Nothing could be more lonely, and nothing could be more beautiful than the view at nightfall across the prairies to these huge hill masses.”

“I grow very fond of this place, and it certainly has a desolate, grim beauty of its own, that has a curious fascination for me.”

“When one is in the Bad Lands, he feels as if they somehow look just exactly as Poe's tales and poems sound.” *

*** Okay, just gotta say, the image of this young, emotionally-wrecked guy sitting alone in his small, dark cabin, mourning his young, dead wife while also thinking about Edgar Allen "Never Met A Young, Dead Wife I Wouldn't Write A Poem About" Poe... it's almost too much

Anyways, not to be weird about Teddy Roosevelt on main, but it's just like... the first time he went out to the Badlands in 1883, he was this sickly, bookish, snobby city politician, so desperate for Adventure and Romance and Possibility, bright-eyed and determined and so eager to just overcome his fucking asthma, and then, it's only a year later, and this young kid's a young widow, and he's handing his infant daughter off to his sister to run right back to this distant place that's nothing like the posh, privileged life he's always lived, and he throws himself into this new life as though he's trying his best to forget the last one, but for all the cattle-ranching and gunslinger-punching and cow-thief-stopping that he does, still, he's just so overwhelmed by this loneliness, this "melancholy monotony," and this grief he doesn't want to acknowledge... All these journal entries, and still, I just can't imagine what it was like for him in that empty log cabin for that first year. Poor kid.

[thinkingimmensely]

Like An Open Book XI

Part 1 | Part 10

A/N: Hi! How’s everyone been doing? I think this chapter’s kind of long, not sure if it’s longer than the last one though. Also, I’ve been working on a James Potter x Reader oneshot that’s already over 4k words HAHAHA, I’m nearly done with it (I think), so that’s one thing to look forward to~! uwu

IDK if it’s just me or is tumblr messing up the tags thingy? Because I can’t seem to tag some people. But anyway, if I’m missing anyone or if you want to be added to the taglist, please dm me or comment down below or even send me an ask so I can include you! <3

MASTERLIST

Disclaimer: I don’t own anything from the Potterverse!

___________________

He couldn’t meet your eyes. James Potter had been avoiding you and you were devastated. You were proud of yourself at how well you hid your inner turmoil since no one said anything, until Remus and you were sitting alone outside in the lawn that is.  

You sat beneath a tree, shielding yourself from the afternoon sun. The others were busy in a competition on who could throw the gnomes the farthest. Though however tempting it was to join in, you settled for relaxing since you didn’t want to soil James’ good mood. Remus, wanting to get some reading done, opted to join you.  

“I’m going home tomorrow.” You told him.  

Remus looked at you in surprise, as if you just dropped a bomb. “What?” He closed his book and set it aside, “Why? We’re supposed to spend two weeks here. We have a week left.”

You pulled your legs up to your chest and hugged yourself, “I just... I think I’ve overstayed my welcome.” You shrugged; you tried to act nonchalant about it but you knew he could very well see your anxiety behind your orbs.  

Remus furrowed his brows, “Why would you ever think that? Y/N, everyone wants you to be here.”

You shook your head, “I don’t think James does.” You mumbled, you didn’t want to but tears still prickled at the edges of your orbs. Remus heard you all the same. “He knows, Rem. He knows and now he can’t even look at me.” Going home to the family who all but ignored you was better than being rejected by the person who used to welcome you with open arms. “It’s been two days and he all but flees whenever I enter the same room as him. He can’t stand it, and I won’t force him to.”

“I’ll go talk to him.” Remus was about to stand up but you grabbed his arm and held him down.  

“It’s okay.” You told him, giving off a sad smile.  Remus looked conflicted but settled down nonetheless. He held your hand fondly and gave it a squeeze in reassurance, which you were grateful for. He let out a deep sigh and opened his book again.

-

You set down your quill as you folded the piece of parchment and packed it inside an envelope. You sealed it with melted wax and a stamp and handed it to the white barn-owl that perched itself on your windowsill. It was a reply to the Dumbledore’s letter to you; you had written to him immediately after returning to the Potter’s residence two days ago, your hands clammy with nerves, and your ears ringing from everything. You opened his reply once again.

Dear Miss Y/L/N,  

It is a surprise to hear of your connection to the recent incident, and I must commend how you and the others fought off the Death Eaters and helped the Aurors, though extremely reckless it was. I believe Voldemort already knows of your identity and would be ever pursuant of his current interest in you. He will try to get you to join him again, and you must stay vigilant. He will not do anything as long as you remain a student of Hogwarts, but I believe it best to relocate your family soon, in case he catches winds about your residence. If you decide to do so, I will, of course, send help.  

Take care,

Albus Dumbledore

You rubbed your forehead as you read the letter again, chastising yourself for being so stupid. Dumbledore was right, Voldemort had enough connections to easily know who you were, and you not only put yourself in danger, but now so is your family. They had to move, and you had to leave them to keep them safe. He won’t be able to do anything as long as you still went to Hogwarts, the notion was comforting yet ominous, because what would happen the moment you graduated?

The ministry was abuzz since ten muggles were murdered that night, and more people severely injured. The Muggle Prime Minister struggled to make believable alibis and he couldn’t give out an adequate one was it not for the help of the Minister of Magic. You tapped your fingers on the mahogany desk. You wondered if Severus was able to escape unscathed, but you shook your head at the thought; of course, he would go unscathed, he knew about the attack beforehand after all. You bit your lower lip; he had tried to protect you- you know that now. You may still be able to sway him away from the dark path he seemed all too eager to walk on.  

You packed what little you had and zipped your bag close. Now all that was left was to tell the others during dinner. You decided that saying that your mum wanted you home immediately because she heard what had happened at the concert and was concerned for your safety was a good enough excuse.  

A knock came from your door and before you could even walk towards it, it creaked open and James came in. He glanced at your packed bag on the bed and turned to look at you, his eyes wide in shock. He took two long strides towards you and pulled you into a hug. “I’m sorry.” His voice shook as he buried his face on the crook of your neck. His breath tickled but you were utterly confused to be focused on that right now.  

“I’m sorry.” He repeated. “I’ve been so stupid, and you didn’t deserve the way I avoided you. I don’t want you to leave, if I had my way, I’d want you to never leave.” He pulled away but still held you by the shoulders. His hazel eyes searched yours for something you didn’t know. “You see- what I’m trying to say is... is that I don’t care if you’re a Legilimens. I don’t care if you know every little thing about me, if you can read my mind this very instant, I don’t care. I will never turn my back on you again, never. I hold you too dearly.” You just noticed how his hands were shaking, you took them from your shoulders and held them.

“James, I-” You were about to say but someone cleared their throat by the doorway which made you all but drop his hands and your gaze immediately.  

“Uh- s-sorry to bother, b-but your mum wants to know what you want to have for di-dinner, Prongs.” Peter stammered. Sirius snickered from behind him while Remus tried to hold in his laughter as well.  

You flushed a deep shade of red as you turned away from them, hands on your warming cheeks. “Out! All of you!” James had snapped, and the boys went running away in snickers. You turned back to him and found him pretty much in the same state as you were in, flushed cheeks and all that.  

He cleared his throat, “So um, please don’t go home... yet...” He added the last word like an afterthought, as if realizing that, yes, you still have a family who might be wondering where you were if you wouldn’t return. You nodded and he grinned at you. “I’ll, um... see you at dinner then?”

“Uh-huh.” You sheepishly replied and he bit his lower lip then turned to go out, leaving the door open.  

-

“So Y/N, will you tell me what every girl at Hogwarts thinks about me next time?” Sirius grinned as all of you laid on top of the roof, watching the stars. It was a clear night, perfect for star gazing, and you took the opportunity to do so.  

You let out a dry laugh, “Of course not, Siri. What fun would that be for your conquests?” Sirius and Peter had learned of your ‘gift’ when they were busy eavesdropping earlier, and like Remus had done so long ago, the rest of the Marauders had sworn themselves to secrecy regarding your ability.  

Sirius chuckled, twirling his wand between his fingers, “Point taken.”

You stared at the twinkling stars that shone millions of miles away and listened to the voices of your friends. You wished time would stop in this moment. You wished all of you would stay like this forever... young and free; unbothered by the looming war that plagued your lives.  

You sat up as reality started sinking in. The screams of people dying too haunting to be forgotten, and the pale face of the Auror who only tried to protect you. You never even knew his name. You felt a warm jacket wrap around you, and you turned to see James beside you, a soft smile on his face.  

“Thank you.” You murmured. The others continued on their conversation while James adjusted the glasses on the bridge of his nose.  

“I remember it too.” He told you as he ruffled his hair. You cast him a questioning gaze, prompting him to elaborate; “The concert, I mean. Sometimes I still hear the screams and see the flashes of green when I close my eyes.”

You held his hand and gave it a small squeeze which made him smile. “I reckon the five of us will carry this memory for the rest of our lives.” You pointed out sadly.  

He nodded, “True. But I feel a little better knowing that you guys will be with me through it.” He told you and you could feel your heart move by the sincerity of his words that tears prickled at the corner of your eyes.

You wouldn’t be dealing with all these emotions alone, not anymore, and that very notion comforted you greatly. You scooted closer to James and leaned your head on his shoulder, and he instantly wrapped an arm around you.  You sighed in content, because at this very moment, all was well.   “That reminds me,” You started, “You never told me why you were avoiding me so adamantly.” You turned to look up at him, backtracking when he was already looking at you, your faces inches away from each other. You recoiled and he dropped his hand from your shoulder, a deep red penetrating his features.  

He cleared his throat, “I’ll tell you someday. Promise you won’t search for the answer yourself?” Tapping his head with his index finger.

You laughed, “I’ll try.”

The rest of the summer had passed by rather uneventfully as you returned home a couple days later. You had set up some enchantments on your home the moment you arrived with the help of Professor Flitwick, who arrived a few moments after you. He thought you the charms and reinforced them for better durability.  

Your mother had invited him for tea, but he politely refused, saying that he must visit other households and left in a hurry. Your family, except your youngest sister, looked at him rather curiously and you were glad they didn’t voice out their apparent discomfort. They had also watched you and your professor in awe from the living room window as you casted the spells.

Now you sat on a chair by the dinner table as your mother rubbed her temples and your step-father tried to take in everything you just said; you had explained to them why there was a need to enchant your home.

“So... you’re saying that... that a lunatic is out there causing havoc?” You step-father asked hesitantly.

“Well he’s not just any lunatic, he’s public enemy number one in our world.” You pointed out. “And he’s not just causing any havoc, he’s killing people. Muggles, non-wizard people.” You elaborated once more, “You guys are the very kind of people he’ll be after, and I’m only telling you all these because I want you guys to be safe.” The tea had long gone cold and a tense silence hung in the air. Your two siblings were sent to bed early for you guys to have this conversation, but you weren’t surprised to hear your stepsister eavesdropping at the top of the stairs.  

"Y/N, are you sure we’re safe here?” Your mother questioned, gathering her thoughts together. She, at least, understood the gravity of the situation. You knew she liked to read the Daily Prophet when you were done with it, and you were aware she didn’t skip the latest news about the Dark Wizard.

You frowned, letting out a deep sigh, “He wants me to join his cause.” You admitted, and the color of your mother’s face drained. You took her outstretched hand and gave it a squeeze, a gesture that brought tears to her eyes, it had been years since you initiated any sort of physical contact with her. “I won’t join him; I assure you that.” You swore. “Dumbledore is certain he won’t come looking for me until I graduate. By then I’ll be out of this house and the lot of you will be moving somewhere far from here.”

Realization dawned on their faces, “You’re leaving? Why? Wouldn’t it be safer if you went with us?”

You shook your head, choosing not to answer.

 I have gathered a group of people who are willing to oppose the Dark Lord himself and thwart his plans, Miss Y/L/N, and I am formally extending an invitation for you to be part of that said group. It will be dangerous and it will require courage, you will not only be part of the heart of the war, your life will be on the line and your skills will no doubt be put to the test time and time again. But this will all be for the greater good, so I prompt you to at least consider it.

“Y/N?”

Your thoughts broken, you looked at the both of them who shared a look of concern at your lack of reply. “It’ll be better this way. This will all be for the greater good.”  

You left the dinner table at that, and sought solace in your bedroom, glad that your step-sister had retreated to her own room just as you finished your conversation. You locked your door and got your potions textbook and cauldron out of your trunk. You searched the table of contents and smirked bitterly as you found the page you were looking for:

Chapter 16: Memory Potion . . . . . . . . . . . . 394

-

“Y/N!” Lily yelled as she run to you and wrapped her arms around you, “I missed you!” The two of you reunited at King’s Cross Station, the Hogwarts Express right in front of you, smoke bellowing, getting ready for the journey to Hogwarts. Chatter rang out the entire station as friends reunited after without seeing each other for the entire summer.  

You chortled and returned the hug, “It’s so good to see you again Lily.”  

“What, no hug for me?”  

The two of you broke the hug to look at the messy-haired boy smirk at the both of you. Lily rolled her emerald orbs heavenward, “Sod off, Potter.”

James chuckled at her, “Feisty as ever I see.” He then turned to you and smiled, “Y/N.”

You nodded at him, “James.” It has been three weeks since you last saw him and it feels like it’s been forever.

Lily eyed the both of you, her eyes wide as if formulating something. She instantly grabbed you and pulled you away as Sirius called out to the three of you, much to the confusion of the boys. “Did something happen between the both of you?” She interrogated.  

You furrowed your brows, “What?”

She giggled excitedly, “You and James I mean!” She whispered-yelled. “Is there something going on that I should know about?!”  

“Um, I don’t think so?” You denied, because really, there wasn’t, wasn’t there?  

She pulled you further away, “I saw the way you two looked at each other! If there’s something going on between the both of you, I’m all in for it!”

“Lily didn’t you call him an arrogant toerag before?” You raised a brow at her.

“Oh please, that was before we all got to become friends!” She turned to look at the boys, Remus and Peter had already arrived and the four of them were talking animatedly with each other as if they haven’t seen each other for years. “I’m just saying, I think the both of you make a fine pair now that I see you guys again. It’s like a spell had been cast during summer break that changed everyone’s demeanor.”

Ah that was right, Lily didn’t know what happened yet. You had avoided writing to her about what happened since you didn’t want to worry her, and also you didn’t want to relive the memories. Your expression may have changed since Lily went from excited to concerned in an instant, “What is it? What’s wrong?” She questioned.  

“I need to tell you something...” You trailed off but before you could go into your story-telling, the train chimed out. It was time to go.  

The boys headed your way, “Ladies,” James uttered and grabbed your trunk from your hands. You tried to get it back from him but it was futile, which only made Lily cast you another knowing smirk. You frowned at her in reply.

“We have to go to the Prefects compartment.” Lily informed you as she and Remus stopped midway.

“Oh, right. Sure.” You nodded, “I’ll talk to you later then?”  

The redhead smiled at you, “Of course.” They then walked off towards the other end of the train while you, Peter, Sirius, and James easily found an empty compartment and went inside. You stood by the doorway while the boys placed the trunks up, and entered when they were done.  

James took his seat beside you while Sirius and Peter sat on the opposite side. The train took off a few minutes later, and you leaned your head on the window glass, looking at the vast terrain. The boys chatted on, paying no heed to your lack of input to their conversation.  

The cart lady soon did her rounds around the train, and James and Peter got up to buy some sweets. Sirius nudged you with his foot and you shot him a look, “What?”

He chuckled, “Nothing. It’s just- you're real quiet today. Is everything all right?”

“Of course. I... I just have a lot on my mind right now.” You confessed.

Sirius gave you a sad smile. “Well, don’t get consumed by those thoughts. We’re here for you aright?” He pulled the sleeves of his sweater.  

“Sirius?”

“Hm?”

You folded your hands together in your laps, glancing outside where the others were still busy picking the sweets they want. “We both know you’re more troubled than I am. Do you want to talk about it?”

Sirius stopped pulling his sleeves instantly, “I almost forgot you’re a Legilimens.” He chortled lowly, but it held no actual mirth. “I was disowned, kicked out of the house- with all that burning of my picture in the family tree.” He shook his head as if he found it absolutely ridiculous, “I think Bella told them about our little encounter during the concert incident and that flipped them how I could stand against the Dark Lord himself and their cause. So now I live with James apparently. It’s fine though, if anything, I’m glad to be rid of all that pureblood supremacy nonsense.”

You frowned deeply; his pureblood fanatic family was not foreign to you. You knew, since before, that Sirius suffered immensely in his household, and it made your family life all the much better. “You’re worried about your brother?” You surmised.

He nodded slowly, “They’re poisoning his mind, they are. He’s my little brother and I couldn’t even protect him. I can’t stop him from walking down that path...”

Your heart ached from the familiarity, you leaned back on your seat, “Well... all we can do is not give up now.” You told him, and he understood. He understood that the both of you were in a similar boat, and that made him smile genuinely and nod. You were thankful about the fact that he didn’t even comment about how he knew you were talking about Severus. You knew they weren’t on the best terms but you were worried he might convince you to forget about that snake. That he wasn’t worth it.

James and Peter came back with their hands full with sweet treats and they set it down on the cushions. “Take anything you want.” James told you and you looked through the candies and chocolates. You took a cauldron cake, thanking him.  

Halfway before arriving to Hogwarts, you all started to change into your robes. You had to leave the compartment to change at the comfort room all the way down the train hallway while the boys had no trouble pulling their sweaters over their heads.  

“Wouldn’t mind if you changed here, Y/N.” Sirius wiggled his brows at you but yelped when James threw his robes at him.  

“Hi, Y/N.” A girl with ginger hair and warm brown eyes greeted you as you waited in line for your turn to change in the bathroom. “I’m Marlene McKinnon; we share the same dorm?” She introduced herself when you just stared at her.  

You shook your head, “Oh sorry, I know who you are, I’m just a little surprised is all. We’ve never really talked before.” She was nervous, she didn’t think she would ever get to talk to you as well.

She chuckled lightly, “We haven’t, haven’t we? I’m sorry about that; but I hope to rectify that, Lily’s friend is our friend of course.” She gestured to the person inside the room who just came out.  

“Oh, hi Y/N.” Mary Macdonald greeted, already in her robes, a kind smile on her face.  

“You can change first Y/N.” Marlene told you; you thanked her, not wanting to make it awkward.  

You closed the door behind you and discarded your sweater. You could faintly hear Marlene and Mary chatting in the other side of the door, it was a good thing they weren’t talking about you. Was it going to be like this from now on? You wondered. Were your housemates going to make pleasant conversation with you just because you were friends with Lily and the Marauders? Somehow the thought of not being ostracized by your own house anymore wasn’t so bad.  

You came out after changing and Marlene went in afterwards. You smiled at Mary, in which she returned the gesture and you made your way back to your compartment. You passed by a group of snickering students, and when you turned to glance, you frowned deeply as you took note of their green robes. It was Mulciber and his little gang; their compartment door was slightly open and they passed around the daily prophet. You squinted in disgust and continued on, missing the way Severus looked as you walked away from inside the compartment.

You dragged the door open and found your three friends tossing Fizzing Whizbees at each other and catching it with their mouths. “Does anyone have a copy of today’s Daily Prophet?” You questioned, interrupting their game as you took your seat beside James.  

“I might have one.” Peter replied, swallowing the candy, and got up the seats to reach for his trunk.  

“Did something happen?” James looked at you in question.

“I don’t know yet.” You answered. Peter fished out the newspaper from his trunk and threw it to you, which you expertly caught. You immediately skimmed through the headlines while the blonde boy closed his trunk and flopped down on his seat.  

Sirius and James huddled closer towards you to check the newspaper, and you arrived at the latest news about the Dark Lord. It said that there were three more attacks, all in different locations throughout the country. Your face paled at the list of casualties, the war wasn’t just starting, it was at its height already, you realized.  

The atmosphere in the compartment turned grim. Sirius took the newspaper from your hands and crumpled it up and threw it outside the window. “It’s nothing new. People die every day.” He shrugged then took a packet of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans and ripped it open. “Here, Peter, I dare you to eat this.” He handed the boy an earth-colored bean.  

You sighed, all of you coped in a different way, you concluded. Though not particularly healthy, denial was one way to go about it. But you weren’t one to talk since the way you stressed about it all the time couldn’t be considered healthy as well.  

You felt eyes on you and you turned to see James looking at you. You cocked your head to your side in question and there was a waver in his gaze. He felt hurt; he wanted to know what you were thinking about and it pained him to see you build walls around yourself once more. You turned away from him, guilt creeping onto your conscience.  

___________________

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[pollylynn]

Title: Helm WC: 1400 Episode: Kick the Ballistics (4 x 04)

She has been wondering lately if she was meant to be a cop. It’s not something she’s been wondering very loudly, not even in the privacy of her own head, but she’s getting used to listening for the quiet things rattling around in there. She’s practicing listening for those things, because it’s homework from Burke. But it’s also homework from herself because she’s the idiot who went back to Burke of her own volition.

It’s homework from herself, because she wants to be ready. She doesn’t want to get to the end of her mother’s case and find that on the other side of the wall is an absolute mess—or worse still, that there’s nothing on the other side of the wall, because everything she was meant to be has withered and died for lack of light and air and anything. So she’s listening for the quiet things. She’s listening for the meant to bes, and it’s not clear if cop is anywhere in there.

It’s not a bad thing, at least not exclusively. It’s not simply the devastation of waking up to find herself held together with surgical tape and staples and realizing the next second that she’s wasted twelve years of her life. It’s a luxury to wonder. It’s a luxury to be alive, of course, but this goes beyond that.

The job was not something she chose. She had to be a cop. From John Raglan’s first little lady dismissal of her—from the first time he talked literally right over her head to meet her dad’s eye—she knew this was a job she was going to have to do herself. Whether she was suited to it by nature, whether it would make her happy or not, none of that had anything to do with anything. Her course was charted before she was out of her teens.

It’s worked out okay. That’s not damning with faint praise, or whatever. It’s just the thing she’s arrived at so far that’s true. Does it make her happy? It’s a question larger than she feels ready to field just yet. She gains satisfaction from it, and she finds meaning in it, even if Ann Hastings’ Nothing will ever be enough has made it harder of late to listen for the quiet things, to appreciate them. And suited to it by nature or no, she is good at it. At least she is used to thinking of herself as good at it.

She would like to lay the blame for her crisis of confidence, if that’s what it is, at the feet of the new Captain. But at the very least that sounds . . . lame. It sounds like caving, and she’s better than that, isn’t she? It shouldn’t be possible for someone else’s doubts to derail her completely.

Yes, Gates hovers and micromanages. Her tone of voice routinely seems to insinuate that she and the boys are obtusely ignoring evidence and failing to pull solves out of thin air solely to annoy her. It’s also becoming rapidly clear that she is overwhelmingly concerned with optics over all.

That’s certainly to blame at the moment. Gates, by her own admission, doesn’t care whose fault it is that Jane Herzfeld was killed with Ryan’s gun. What she says in the silence, though, is that she also doesn’t care whose fault it isn’t. She leaps on the information that Castle was in the room, and by now, that’s familiar enough that Kate has to suppress an eye roll—or she has to try at least.

But an eye roll isn’t going to get the job done, quite literally. Ryan needs more from her than the camaraderie she’s used to leaning into because Montgomery had their backs, first, last, and always. And Montgomery, if she listens carefully to the quiet things, is part of this, too. Because she still shakes with rage when she remembers him talking about the hand of God—talking about her as if she’d sprung into being solely to offer him a chance at redemption. When she’s not shaking with rage, she wonders what it means to have been the Golden Girl on his watch.

But she doesn’t have time to sift through all that in the moment. She needs all her focus, talent, and drive to be what her boys need right now. Ryan needs her to hear his confession, to let him beat himself up. He needs her not to baby him as she sometimes does—as they all sometimes do, because he’s honey milk, he’s sweater vest, he’s their lodestone, who chose this life more freely and fully than the rest of them.

So she takes him to Chinatown. She lets him take an unaccompanied run at Finn McQueen and demonstrate a way with words he definitely gets from Dad and not Mom. She has him in the room with her the first time they get their hands on Phillip Lee, and in the raw, honest pain of Ben Lee trying to lead his brother into confession, she hears everything Ryan must have said to him. She knows her faith was well placed and her course of action was wise.

Esposito needs her to kick his ass for standing by, grinning, as his partner went for Seth Carver. He also needs her to buy him a beer—maybe a whole evening’s worth of beer—because he has also showed up for Ryan. He has busted his ass and broken more leads solo than the rest of them combined, and it’s not ego to say she has always set the tone for that. They show up for one another, always.

That’s what the case of Jane Herzfeld is asking of her, too. It’s demanding that she show up in ways she is utterly unused to.

She has never had any problem with being a leader. That’s not ego, either. But what her boys need right now is for her to be a boss, even though they’re razzing her for it. They need her to step up and step into aspects of the job she’s never had to do the heavy lifting on, so she steps up.

She makes nice with Seth Carver, even though she almost chokes on her own tongue doing it. She puts herself between the boys’ ridiculous undercover shenanigans and Gates. She steps up, and if she listens close, there’s a quiet voice that says not bad . . .

That’s not damning with faint praise, either. It’s nudge that tells her the job isn’t quite done yet.

Castle needs her. He’s part of her team, and—God help her—one of the souls she’s charged with steering in this job, on this terrible case, in particular. He needs more than a non-committal shrug and, no pun intended, a cop-out: It’s a cop thing. He needs to understand that what he’s done of this case—what he always does on every case—is valuable. And he needs to know he wasn’t some kind of liability that let Jerry Tyson get away.

So, when day is not quite done, she goes to him—the last, but certainly not least of her boys. She lays out what Phillip Lee’s lawyer wants, what Phillip Lee is dangling at them for the price of what amounts to most of his life. She knows what to do—she really mostly does—but seeing the weight still hanging on him, knowing that same weight still hangs on Ryan and dims two of her very favorite pairs of blue eyes, she listens for the quiet things and knows there’s a reckless part of her that would like to jump at this. She would like to lay hands on Jerry Tyson and make him pay.

He speaks, and it’s like she’s thinking out loud. The quiet things find voice, and his way with words arranges everything just so. She’s a little smug when she congratulates him on it. It’s what he needs from her right now—the compliment and the little bit of rough-and tumble that reassures him that he’s one of them more than saying it straight out ever good,.

It’s what he needs to hear. It’s what she needs to say. He’s thinking like a real cop. So is she—a damned good one. Maybe she was meant to be a cop, maybe she wasn’t. But she’s a damned good one.

A/N: Wow. This got long for some serious career lack of morphousness.

images via homeofthenutty

[hawkeyedflame]

Okay! This is all from memory so forgive me if I've forgotten something.

Starting with Roy: while I still maintain that he's a himbo, I think he's more complicated than I initially gave him credit for. When I sent the previous essay I was fully expecting him to go from this morally gray Dirty Harry style government figure to the white knight hero who saves the day and becomes a saint, but he maintained his moral ambiguity, which i REALLY appreciate in a character. A common theme throughout the show is being haunted by your past, and Roy is no exception, while he might have justified his actions at the time with the guise of doing his duty and patriotism he always knew what he did was wrong, and this ate away at him more and more as time went on. And to find out the atrocities you committed were not justified, but in fact utterly evil? Devastating. That's why I think the confrontation with Envy is so powerful, not only did Envy start the war, but they also killed Roy's best friend, and this truly set Roy off the rails. Perhaps he thought that by destroying Envy he could somehow vindicate himself. But that's not true, if Roy lost himself down in the tunnels he would only have spiraled downwards out of control, and it took a guiding hand to bring him back from the edge.

Speaking of, Riza! When I first spoke of her I Thought she was just a cool lady with guns, now I see that she's more than just a cool lady with guns, she's another example of a broken individual just trying to do the right thing. I think she's had a hard life, I can't imagine growing up with an alchemist father was easy, especially when his subject of choice was so dangerous, but then to have said dangerous work permanently marked on her own skin and told to keep it secret is tragic. It must have taken so long to precisely tattoo on her, and longer yet for Roy to study it. She must've trusted him enough to allow him to study it, so I imagine her thinking "did I make a big mistake?" upon seeing Roy use flame alchemy during the war. Speaking of the war, Riza appeared to be very young when she was involved, which is also tragic. It's like she had her youth and Innocence ripped away by forces she couldn't control. And while Roy might have had a higher body count, Riza was a sniper which meant she had a more...intimate relationship with the atrocities she committed. This is reflected in the scene where she buried a person she killed and asked Roy to disfigure her back to rid the world of her father's burden. She felt it was her mistake. Another very powerful, defining scene. Her father's work, the war, that moment, all stuck with her for the years after. Changed her. She clearly became very close with Roy during the war and they decided that they had to stick by one another.

To touch on their relationship very briefly, I honestly don't have the words to describe how just PERFECT their relationship is tbh. Like, their relationship inspired me to alter how I portray the relationship between two of my own characters, so that should tell you how much I like them. The dynamic is just great!

anon i love you, but you understand that himbos are like.. dumb and nice, right? roy is pretty much a genius and like.. he's not very nice, despite being a good person. i concede that, at times, he absolutely radiates himbo energy, but he is NOT a himbo. i will throw hands with you on this hill.

also, yes i completely agree that i prefer he was not relegated to a boring white knight. he is much more interesting as a man seeking redemption than a man absolved of his past. the confrontation with envy is easily the most impactful moment of any piece of media i've ever engaged with, personally. the life-and-death stakes of that moment were so unconventional compared to life-and-death in other stories. in most stories, the danger of death is coming from the opponent the hero is fighting. you're on the edge of your seat because you don't know if your protag is going to dodge the attacks, find the opening to strike, and be able to finish the job. but roy has already won. he has overpowered envy with very little effort and reduced him to his weakest and most helpless state. the danger is not from his opponent here. in this moment, the greatest threat to roy's life is his own hatred. we don't want him to finish the job; it would mean his own undoing if he did. we ache for the pain that he is in, but we also know deep down that riza is right, that what he is about to do will bring him to a place where nobody, not even she, can reach him. and it hurts so badly, because what brought roy to such unbelievable hatred is the unmitigated intensity of his love. because we all love. and to see such love turn into such hate is to see a crossroads in our own souls, the choice between hatred and grief. i am certain that choosing grief is the more difficult path, and i cannot imagine the state of his heart and soul in that moment.

as for riza.. god.. she fucking kills me, man. it's not in the anime, but in the manga when she tells edward about ishval, she tells him that she was brought to the front lines when she was in her final year of the academy. so she was about 20, maybe 21, when she was taking part in a genocide. as a cadet. the unfortunate thing about it is that she didn't actually have her innocence quite ripped away without her control, not as she sees it at least. she maintains that she made the decision on her own to join the military, and she knew she would have to kill people. she says she has no right to see it as a burden. i think this is partially because of her own body count, but also because she feels responsible for every single ishvalan who died at roy's hand. i cannot imagine her feelings when she first sees roy there. in the manga, she actually saves him and hughes from an ishvalan assailant, and then hughes brings roy to meet his savior, and that's how they reunite. it is not clear whether riza was aware of roy's presence on the front lines via rumors, or if that moment where she rescued him was the first time she knew of his being there. either way, it's fucking tragic to realize that the boy you trusted because he told you of his naïve dreams for the future turned out to be using the powers you've given him to kill thousands of innocent people. even after she speaks with him, finds out he feels the same way she does about the war.. i simply cannot fathom the war inside of her over how she feels about him throughout the war. i have to wonder if him agreeing to burn her tattoo off was what convinced her that she could still trust him. and then she goes on to stay in the military, at his side, in spite of everything she went through and knowing there will be more to come. she bears this guilt by his side; even though she could have walked away, she would not have found rest in a civilian life, not after everything she did, the things she facilitated. she tells roy, in the manga when she reports to his office after graduating from the academy, that she likes guns because she doesn't have to feel her victims die. roy tells her this is nothing more than self deception, and she tells him she knows, and that she will continue to deceive herself for his sake, so that he can reach his goals.

and their relationship....god. i could cry. i have never loved a fictional relationship with anywhere even approaching the intensity of my love for royai. it's just so... fucking good ksjdfhgjksdhfksud like... god. the tenderness, the trust.. the fact that they literally have already been through hell and would go there again for one another willingly. the absolute dedication. the fact that they know each other so well, when riza hesitates for only a fraction of a moment, roy knows immediately that something is terribly wrong. all the little looks they give each other. god. just. GOD. damn it. i love their love so much.

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Hi! Could I request the V3 boys reactions to their s/o becoming the blackened because they were trying to save them.

Yesssss more angst! These were fun to write!

TWs: Blood, Death, Suicide Mentions, and Major DRV3 Spoilers

..............

Ryoma

No..it couldn’t be true..could it?

Ryoma couldn’t believe you’d actually kill someone, though your reason came as a shock: It was to save his life.

Kirumi was plotting to murder him after the second motive came out. And she obviously panicked when you showed up instead of him, so she tried attacking you.

But you retaliated, leaving her body in the bathroom and altering the crime scene to make it look like she slipped while cleaning it.

You didn’t want to kill anyone, but you were terrified she might target him some other time if you didn’t stop her.

Yet Ryoma vehemently denied you did anything, arguing with Shuichi up until he pointed out incriminating evidence.

He was crushed, knowing he’s going to lose another loved one.

He can’t understand why a criminal like him was worth saving.

But the deed was done. And as your final wish before being executed, you plead for him to survive and see that life’s worth it.

While he’s never been good with promises, he’ll try to keep this last one...for your sake.

Shuichi

He learned the truth earlier than anyone else.

Someone knew he was too smart, always leading the trials and making the swift deductions.

So they believed eliminating him would guarantee them escape from the academy, as everyone would arrive to wrong conclusions without him.

However you put a stop to their plot, accidentally killing them with their own weapon they prepared.

Shuichi didn’t want it to be you--not you, of all people--so he’s far more reluctant to accuse you of murder. 

He’s pretty much mute throughout the trial, but you take notice fast and see him slipping back into that cowardly detective persona.

“Shuichi, don’t you dare go back into hiding. Don’t you dare look away from the truth again.”

“..but...”

He just absolutely refuses to. He can’t....not this time.

So instead, you reveal the truth about your crime. Every last detail--from when the motive came out to how you disposed of the evidence.

By the end of your explanation, he’s in tears--realizing you saved his life..in exchange for your own.

Every night since then, he cries as he hugs the Helping Yacchi plush you gave him the day before the body was discovered.

It hurt so much to condemn you, someone he truly loved.

Kokichi

You learned very quickly that Miu was plotting to kill Kokichi, after noticing her put a bottle of poison in his seat before returning to hers and logging in.

That made you livid. But more scared than anything else.

So you formulated a plan after learning everything (or almost everything) about the virtual world.

You overheard Miu and Kokichi planning to meet on the mansion rooftop, and you didn’t like that idea one bit.

Little did you know, he and Gonta were conspiring to murder her, too, but you beat them to the punch.

Obviously he was pissed someone foiled his plans....but imagine his shock when it turned out to be you.

The two were suspects for a long time as they explained the “Killing Game Busters” scheme.

But since Miu died by your hands--their names were cleared.

Kokichi was in frustrated tears, yelling at you for not telling him sooner.

But he ultimately breaks down when your punishment was announced.

He clings to you, crying and begging you not to leave him--he even pleads with Monokuma to let him die with you.

This time it’s not an act.

He feels genuine sorrow and heartache for a long time after the trial.

Gonta

It’d be impossible to think anyone would try to kill him.

But someone tried taking advantage of his gullibility. And you happened to be there at the exact same time, attacking the assailant while your entomologist boyfriend ran off in fear.

You cleaned as much evidence as you could before finding and consoling him, lying that you just talked to them.

He believes you and is relieved---until the body discovery announcement plays later on.

Even though you lied, he doesn’t blame you. Not even during the trial where you made up an alibi.

But when Gonta himself is questioned...he clams up, knowing exactly what happened and being too scared to say the truth.

He doesn’t want to condemn you! Gentlemen don’t-

You reassure him it’s okay. Shuichi has you in a corner and there’s no point in letting the trial drag on.

So he eventually admits what he saw, and he can only cry as he votes you as the Blackened.

You two share one last hug, and he says he’ll never ever call you a killer, thanking you for protecting him even if he failed to protect you.

Korekiyo

It doesn’t come as a surprise that someone would try murdering him. He could see the hatred in their eyes whenever he looked at them.

His menacing appearance seems to be more than enough of a reason to target him.

However, after finding their body and signs of a struggle surrounding the crime scene, he arrives to the conclusion that the culprit knew he was in danger and killed to protect him.

Ah...how beautiful that realization was.

Or so he thought.

When it’s revealed you carried out that deed, using his golden sword to swiftly kill the victim, his heart is completely shattered.

‘No..no, no, no, no, no!!’

He feels anger, sorrow, confusion, and..so many other unpleasant things at once as you confess to the crime.

Not even Sister calms him down. He becomes belligerent, trying to steer everyone away from the truth and claim he killed the victim in self-defense.

You have to step off your podium to console him, as he was screaming his head off and scaring everyone.

When the trial is over, he just holds you close, begging Monokuma not to take you--his one true love--away from him.

But alas, it’s all for nothing as you’re sentenced to your execution.

Though you remind Korekiyo of what he’s taught you about death, as you didn’t fear it, and you promise you’ll watch over him in the afterlife.

Kaito

He’s incredibly outraged when everyone suspects you as the culprit in spite of the evidence that piles up.

“Shuichi, you're not actually gonna believe their crap, right?! Stop screwing around--!”

“He’s not, Kaito. It's the truth."

Stunned, he looks at you. Since your podium was conveniently next to his, he didn’t have to look far to see the guilt in your eyes.

Learning your motivation, however, is what ultimately crushed him.

You killed...to protect him?

No..

That couldn’t be right! He was suppose to protect you! Didn’t he always tell you how killing was wrong and-?!

But the truth was you did try talking some sense into the victim...but they attacked you instead, and you retaliated in self-defense. So it was purely accidental.

Kaito is pissed when Monokuma jests that “murder is murder” no matter what and he actually tries fighting the Exisals.

You insist he doesn’t interfere, and plead for him to use that strength to help protect everyone else instead.

His spirit is broken for a while, but...he’ll recover and keep fighting on. For your sake.

K1B0

Something in you snapped when you overheard Kokichi taunt your robot boyfriend for the last time, actually hurting him physically as well as emotionally.

K1B0 went to you in tears, not understanding why he hated him so much.

After comforting him, you’ve finally had enough. You were sick of him being harassed nonstop.

So you sent him to see Miu while you met with Kokichi to “talk”. 

While the Ultimate Supreme Leader seemed suspicious, he let his guard down...sealing his fate as you strangled him with his own scarf.

Then you inflicted numerous wounds on his corpse to disguise the true cause of death.

But when the truth was revealed, K1B0 was in total shock at your motive.

He couldn’t believe you’d do something so barbaric.

Even if Kokichi bullied him relentlessly, there’s no reason you had to go as far as murder him!

However he understands anger can be a powerful emotion--one that throws any and all sense of logic out the window.

Still..it hurt to watch you get executed. He went into shutdown for the rest of the day/night.

And here he was, thinking you two had finally torn down the wall of “forbidden love” between human and robot for good.

Rantaro

You managed to kill Tsumugi before she had a chance to murder Rantaro and Kaede’s final part of her plan went into motion.

The shot put ball’s sudden appearance startled him into forgetting about the hidden room and running out of the library..

And up the stairs as the obnoxious music stops and one of the girls yelled for everyone to come into the bathroom--where Tsumugi’s body was.

At that point, the game should’ve ended since you actually killed the mastermind.

But of course, Team Danganronpa had backup plans and thus the game kept going.

You had rearranged the crime scene to make it look like a suicide, leading everyone to assume the time limit’s pressures are what killed the cosplayer.

But eventually your crime was unraveled and Rantaro was utterly devastated.

You’re the first Blackened in yet another killing game he was forced to participate in.

You only killed Tsumugi because you found it suspicious she suddenly ran off on her own near the time limit’s end.

In doing so you unknowingly saved Rantaro’s life in exchange for your own.

He was upset you did something so rash when he clearly told everyone not to, but...at the same time he’s grateful to be alive because of you.

He swears your death won’t be in vain. He’s gonna escape this game with everyone else.

[seven-oomen]

There’s a specific group of Scott Stans (the Scott McCall Defense Squad bunch) that desperately cling to this idea that “if anything happened to Scott, Stiles would immediately drop everything and fly himself home powered by sheer rage on his alpha’s behalf” and only tolerates Stiles when they rewrite him as Scott’s own personal attack dog. The most hilarious thing though – besides Scott fans using a neurodivergent character they are clearly unhealthily obsessed with and claim to despise to make Scott “relevant”, that is – is that I never saw Stiles being angry, or full of rage, or attacking anyone on Scott’s behalf in the actual show.

Stiles is very protective of werewolves in general and threatened people over Lydia, over Malia, over Allison, over his father, over his mother, over Cora, over Isaac, Erica and Boyd, and he openly confronted the Argents on what Kate and Gerard did to Derek and to the Hale Pack/Family. But he NEVER expressed rage, or hatred, or resentment on Scott’s behalf specifically in canon.

When Theo murders Scott in Teen Wolf Season 5, no one even notices (nor gives a shit) that Scott died. And when Liam brings Theo back from Hell in Teen Wolf Season 6, the only one who shows any kind of hatred, rage, resentment, contempt, and still holds a grudge against Theo for playing Scotty like a fiddle and for successfully putting Scotty into an early grave is… Scotty himself.

Everyone else either didn’t particularly care about Scott and put saving Stiles above Scott’s bruised ego and temper tantrums, or was angry at Theo for what Theo did to them and to their loved ones – Malia on Stiles, Lydia and Kira’s behalf, Liam on his, Mason and Hayden’s behalf, Stiles on Lydia, Malia, Kira, Liam and his father’s behalf, etc.

Meanwhile, Scott McCall…

(06x06, “Ghosted”)

SCOTT [to Theo]: I hope you realize it’s taking all of my strength to not tear you in half right now!

(06x07, “Heartless”)

SCOTT: [furiously] He’s going back into the ground!

LIAM: You can’t! He remembers Stiles!

MALIA: Scott remembers Stiles. Lydia and I remember Stiles.

LIAM: The Dread Doctors knew all about the Wild Hunt. He can help us.

SCOTT: [yelling] Or he could kill us!

LIAM: Theo is my responsibility. Noshiko gave me the sword.

HAYDEN: You both are right. If Theo tries anything, we’ll send him back to the Skinwalkers. But, for right now—

SCOTT: [yelling] He goes back now!

THEO: [smug] Except Liam’s the one with the sword.

*Scott grabs Liam and drags him into the living room to talk, leaving Malia, Lydia, Hayden and Theo in the back room*

LIAM: What? You don’t trust me?

SCOTT: I don’t trust him! Do you?!

LIAM: No. But I think we can use him.

SCOTT: [yelling] Remember who Theo is! He got into your head and you tried to kill me! And when that didn’t work, he did kill me! And Tracy, and Josh, and his sister!

LIAM: But this might be our only chance to get Stiles back.

SCOTT: [whiny] Can’t we just try to find somebody that we at least trust?

LIAM: This might be a mistake, but you don’t know that yet. And you made a lot of mistakes when you were learning to be an alpha.

SCOTT: Yeah, I made a lot… But we don’t have time for mistakes! I can’t lose Stiles!

LIAM: So we should try anything we can to save him. Right? Even Theo.

SCOTT: Convince me.

LIAM: I can put him back in the ground any time.

THEO: You also need a transformer that can handle five billion joules of electricity. I know where to find one, and I can show you how it works. I’ll tell you if Malia promises not to kill me.

LYDIA: She promises.

MALIA: No, I don’t.

MALIA [to Hayden]: We’re really gonna do this? Trust him?

HAYDEN: You got a better idea?

MALIA: I’ve got an idea. It may not be better… But at least it’s not him.

So yeah. Scott/Posey extremists’ “twue alpaha Scott is the center of everyone’s universe and their main priority, and if Peter Hale killed Scott, Stiles would be utterly devastated and should despise Peter and the Hales on Scott’s behalf” self insert power fantasy has 0 basis in canon.

I mean, yes, if Peter Hale had actually succeeded in killing Scott in Teen Wolf Season 4, Stiles would have been sad (because Stiles is a good, empathetic Bambi eyed hero with a heart of gold who keeps putting up with Scott’s bullshit even if he doesn’t have to.) But then Stiles would move on just like everyone else and finally realize how much better and happier he is without such a toxic, abusive friend in his life.

Lydia, Stiles, Malia, Liam, Kira Jackson, Danny, Chris and Mason would definitely join the Hale Pack. Cora has made it absolutely clear that she despises Scott and wants to be Stiles’ new BFF; and Peter is just waiting for the right, vulnerable moment to offer Stiles the Bite again because, as Peter Hale shamelessly admits in S6, he literally NEVER stopped fantasizing about turning-Mate biting Stiles. All the Cora, Stiles, Lydia & Kira’s ride or die friendship, Hale Pack feelings, and Spark/Emissary Stiles and Dark Stiles/Void Stiles’ unleashed potential ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

I can’t really comment on S4-6 since I didn’t watch it aside from some clips of Peter, Noah, and Chris. (Noah going to town and bringing out the Johnny Cage??? Hello Sheriff!) But yeah, I can’t really give much insight on those seasons but I think characterisation went downhill after 3B anyway, so I’m not surprised by inconsistencies.

I will say this, I don’t believe Peter would give Stiles the bite without consent. For all Peter’s faults, he’s not someone who would force himself on people like that. I honestly think Scott was an outlier, maybe even an accident in a way. But that is merely speculation.

Would he manipulate Stiles or try to convince him? Yeah, let’s be real, this is Peter. So he would try and convince him. But if Stiles continually says no? It stays no.

It is an interesting thought though, what would have happened if Peter had turned someone else that night?

I think my favorite speculations are Noah Stilinski (the Sheriff) or even Chris Argent. And Chris hiding it because he doesn’t want to leave his daughter behind. I think that would be extraordinarily interesting.

[xxbyimm]

The bridge - Fíli x Human!Reader

Link to my Masterlist.

A lovely anon requested three prompts from the emotional promptlist (’Control your anger, or you’ll have me to worry about.’, ‘Do I make myself clear’ and ‘That isn’t an option’) and when I started working on it, the thing somehow expanded into a proper oneshot. I usually don’t write sad stories like this, so I hope this is what you wanted! You gave me permission to break your heart dearie... And that’s what you’re gonna get...  

The bridge - Fíli x Human!Reader

Summary: In life, there are numerous reasons to break up with someone. Even when you both don’t even want to in the first place...

Warnings: Heartbreak. All. The. Way.

Taglist: @soradragon​ @pistachiozombie​ @legolaslovely​ @tomisbaeholland​ @fizzyxcustard​ @swoopswishsward​ @deepestfirefun​ @ruthoakenshield​ @mariannetora​ @thequeenoferebor​ If you don’t wish to be tagged anymore, please let me know! Or if you’re not on the list and want to be tagged: check out my lists and I’d like to hear which list you want in on!

 It was a cold, stormy night.

You had just delivered some hot stew to your grandparents on the outskirts of town. The now empty basket rocked weightlessly on your arm as you made your way back towards your family home. Giving away dinner (your dinner to be precise) did mean that your own belly would be painstakingly empty tonight, but it was all worth it. Your grandparents were too stubborn to ask for help and you loved them too much to let them starve.

You hummed a nursery rhyme while crossing the footbridge that granted you safe passage over the river. In the near future you wouldn’t have to worry about the scarcity of food and the high prices that came with it, nor would you have to live in fear for the safety of your mother and siblings. Soon, everything would be okay. You would not have to sacrifice your own comforts for that of others anymore, let alone work as hard as you had been used to in all of your life. But, as with other great things… your new way of living would come with a cost.

For long, you had not been able to even think of paying such a high price for a life without the worst hardships, but recent events made you change your mind. It began with a terrible drought during the last summer, which had led to a failed harvest. Since it was only a matter of time before the food prices would rise, your parents had been discussing of ways to make ends meet and to survive the coming winter. As your father did spend his waking hours laboring in the mines, he could not possibly take on another job, no matter how much he wanted to. Your mother made some money as a laundress, but that hardly was enough to feed one person, let alone six. When you had stepped in and had suggested to take up some work as well, your mum had told you she needed you to take care of the household and guard your sisters and little brother while she was out.

 So you did what you were expected to. Ultimately that led you to a certain dwarf, who stole your heart on the Friday market quite unexpectedly.

You had never been in love before. The men in town had never managed to capture your attention, but this golden haired dwarf looked at you once and you were utterly lost. Before you knew it, your life revolved around sneaking out late, stolen kisses behind stalls and sweet promises whispered in your ear. You were intoxicated and suddenly you understood what everyone else had been talking about. You wanted to be with him more than anything and though romantic relations between an human and a dwarf was unusual, the two of you were determined to become the bridge between the two races. Marriage. A family. Anything seemed possible.

But then, your father died and everything changed…

A gust of wind raged over the bridge. You were so deeply in thought, that you didn’t see it coming. The force of it literally swept you off your feet. A gasp escaped you as you crashed against the parapet. Your basket, released from your grip, flew over the edge and landed in the water. You cursed, but before you could reach out for it two sturdy hands grabbed your sides and held you firmly in your place.

Before you could even look at your rescuer, you knew. It was the way he was holding you, gentle but yet so determined. And his scent, that by now you could recognize everywhere, that enveloped your being. How many times had he held you like this? How many times had he kissed your neck, his beard burning your sensitive skin, mustache braids slightly tickling as he kissed his way down and cold beads leaving a soothing trail of their own?. But no more… Your heart ached and tears welled up in your eyes.

Fíli, son of Víli, was the love of your life. But as much as it pained you to see him again, you were not about to put your needs before his or your families’, not even for the sake of love. You thought you had been clear this afternoon and you were in no mood to go through so much heartbreak again, but somehow he must have thought he could change your mind. Why would he even try? Didn’t he know that any chance for reconciliation was futile?

‘Fíli.’ You breathed.

‘Love.’ He said quietly.

‘I told you not to call me that anymore.’ You growled, turning to face him. ‘I’m not your love.’

His blue eyes flashed. ‘No, you are my One.’

‘We humans don’t believe in such matters.’ You lied, avoiding his gaze. ‘There is no such thing as true love.’

‘Once you believed differently.’

You huffed at that, shaking away his hands that still lied on your waistline. ‘Yes, and once upon a time I was a child and I ran away from reality. Poverty. Boredom. But no more.’

‘So I was an escape?’ he demanded. ‘That’s all?’

Of course he hadn’t been just an escape. Truth be told, you believed in love. In your heart, you knew that Fíli was the One, the only male in the world you would ever care about. In turn, he adored you and would choose to be with you, whatever that meant for the future. 

But you knew that marriage between a dwarf and a human would result in a huge scandal, followed by the both of you being thrown out by your communities. Though you could eventually learn to live with that, you knew it would be devastating for Fíli. The way he talked about his kin was so beautiful, how could you take that away from him?

No. A love with so many hurdles to overcome, would only ruin Fíli’s life. Furthermore it wouldn’t save your family from starvation. And your new future husband’s money could.

 So instead of telling him how you really felt, you swallowed hard and did what had to be done. The words fell out of your mouth.

‘Of course you were, how could you be anything more?’

He narrowed his eyes. ‘I still have a hard time believing that. I know your heart. You don’t take affairs like marriage lightly, but yet you agreed betrothing me. Why would you do that?’

You merely shrugged. ‘I changed my mind.’

‘I know you’re lying.’ He said quietly. ‘Tell me the truth, Y/N.’

‘I just told you.’ You held on. ‘Just like I did this afternoon. I decided to marry someone else. Why is that so hard to understand?!’

‘It’s because of the despair in your eyes.’ Fíli murmured, his hands reaching out to cup your cheeks. ‘You’re devastated.’

‘There’s no desperation of any kind!’ you retorted as you jumped backwards. ‘I just don’t want to marry you!’

Fíli’s arms fell to his sides and the hurt was clearly displayed in his eyes. ‘Then you ought to tell me why.’

‘I JUST TOLD YOU!’ you exasperated. ‘HOW COULD I POSSIBLY BE MORE CLEAR?’

The golden haired dwarf shook his head. ‘No, I don’t recall you giving me a good reason. Is there even one?’

Shakily, you drew in a breath. How could he expect you to give a reason when he wouldn’t be able to accept it?  

‘Love…’

‘I AM NOT YOUR LOVE!’ you swore, your eyes filling with tears. ‘STOP CALLING ME THAT!’

Somewhere in the distance, shutters clattered and a voice shouted, but as the wind was still howling over the bridge, you couldn’t tell if your screams were alerting the town or if it was just nature raging with you. Fíli listened carefully, but then decided it was nothing worthwhile and diverted his attention to you again.

‘I will accept your wishes, but then you have to stop screaming.’ He promised you. ‘Please control your anger, or you’ll have me to worry about.’

‘You dare to threaten me?’ you hissed.

A faint smile crossed his face. ‘No. That isn’t an option. I meant I would have to kiss you in order to shut you up.’

You bit your lip until you tasted your own blood. You knew he would never hurt you. Just like he wasn’t here to taunt you. He was here because he didn’t understand, because he wanted to know what drove you in the arms of another.

Fíli seemed to read your thoughts. He surged forward, wrapping you safely in his arms under his cloak and thus protecting you from the storm.

‘I just can’t let you go without knowing why…’ he whispered against your skin. ‘Please don’t do that to me…’

Tears streamed down your face and your voice trembled. ‘If I tell you why I can’t marry you… Do you promise to let me be?’

He placed a kiss on your neck and heaved a weary sigh. ‘Yes.’

‘I’ll tell you and you will respect my wishes.’ You repeated. ‘No arguments. Do I make myself clear?’

He bowed his head. ‘Yes, milady.’

‘Our love…’ you began before swallowing hard. ‘It’s doomed. Your kin would not accept an human in their midst, as my community would never welcome you into this village. We would be shunned by our people.’

‘We’ve talked about this.’ Fíli objected. ‘We said we would find a way!’

‘I said no arguments!’ You told him firmly. ‘We were too infatuated to see the reality, Fíli. This doesn’t only concerns us, it also impacts our families… They would be rejected for just being related to us.’

‘Oh Y/N.’ Fíli said, his voice breaking. ‘If that’s what you’re worried about, I promise I can provide for your mother, sisters and little brother!’

‘No, you don’t understand!’ you cried out. ‘It would mean that you would lose everything you have, your whole legacy and I cannot ask you that… I won’t! You have to find a nice dwarrowdam who you can fall in love with. Someone who will fit in.’

‘Just like you’ve found yourself a wealthy merchant?’ Fíli asked sourly. ‘He’s a vile, cunning man. I’ve seen how he looks at you. He will show you no respect.’

‘But his money will save my family.’ You murmured. ‘That’s all that counts-’

 Before you could protest, his lips claimed yours. Though you should have pushed him away, you gladly accepted this hungry, desperate act of love. Heat flared up within you, your hips buckling against his. His hands got hold of your bum and his fingers kneaded the soft flesh. His desire for you was evident, just like it always had been. You wished you could make love to him one last time, but in the end that would hurt both of you only further.

Somewhere in the distance, thunder rumbled and you felt the first cold droplet of rain on your head. With a soft hiss, you pulled away.

It hurt too much and you couldn’t bear to look him straight in the eye. If you did, all your efforts would be in vain. Your selfish heart would make the choice, and you couldn’t risk it.

‘Fí-li.’ you wept against his chest. ‘Don’t… don’t make this any harder!’

‘Y/N.’ he whispered hoarsely. ‘I won’t try to change your mind. I know you’re doing what you think is right, though it will break both of us.’

You slowly nodded, but were unable to form any words.

‘I love you.’ He said quietly. ‘Like I could never love another.’

‘And I love you more than I can say.’ You replied, your stare still glued to his chest. ‘But I…’

‘I know.’ He hushed. ‘And I won’t ask you to, as I’m leaving anyway.’

‘To where?’ you inquired.

‘My homeland. Uncle Thorin has asked me to accompany him on a quest. I don’t know if I will survive, or return.’

‘So this is a farewell.’ You mumbled.

The golden haired dwarf gently kissed you on your temple before burying his nose in your hair. ‘Yes, it is.’

Your voice was no more than a whisper, but you knew he had heard you. ‘I don’t want you to go.’

‘I don’t want me to go.’ He growled. ‘But what’s left here for me?’

Your eyes finally met and his filled with tears as you couldn’t stop the constant stream rolling over your cheeks.

‘Goodbye, Y/N.’ he muttered. ‘I hope he makes you happy.’

 You both knew the merchant wouldn’t, but with that, Fíli let go of you and turned away. You gritted your teeth as you watched him pacing away over the bridge, to the other side. It was as if your heart was ripped out of your chest, dragging along with your One as he went on his quest and leaving this bloody trail of hurt.

The wind howled around you and blew you off your feet once more. But now, there was no dwarf who steadied you against him. Nor was he there to protect you against the increasing rain. You just sat there, allowing it to soak you till your bones. It was nothing compared to the ache in your heart.

Slowly, your legs gave in and you crashed down on the bridge.

And you wept.

Thank you so much for reading my humble story. Feedback is always welcome.  Did you like my work? Spread the love and reblog! :) And here’s my Masterlist.

[cabinofimagines]

It’s Delicate (Jason Grace xFem!Reader)

A/N: *Walks in with an iced coffee and sunglasses on* So you guys won’t believe the YEAR that I had, but I’m ending it on a good note and with Christmas specials, so the bad vibes can SUCK IT (also Jason and reader are like 20y/o in the story and for reasons they live in New York)

Words: 1,620

Warnings: Angst. But not really. Look, idk what I did but i TRIED- (this is not proofread so beware the mistakes.

Request: Can you pls do a Jason Grace x Reader? Where Jason says something during an argument that'll hurt the reader and they don't make up then Reader almost dies in an attack and he's going to think that it was probably the last thing he said to reader before reader dies but reader lives in the end. Really angsty, please? Lmaoi hope u understand what i just sent u // How about a songfic with Taylor Swifts delicate with Jason x reader?

This ain't for the best My reputation's never been worse, so You must like me for me We can't make Any promises now, can we, babe?

Jason gets the call from Chiron five minutes after he gets home from the busy streets of the city.

Y/N was attacked while going on a quest on her own. Badly. He’s not sure she’ll make it.

He hangs up and sits on the couch, the shock of the news force him to stay still for a moment, trying to process what his old mentor just said.

Y/N was attacked.

She won’t make it.

And all he can think about is how the last thing he said to her was “Sometimes I wonder why are we still together.”

He fucked up, Y/N stormed out of their bedroom and left the apartment without a word, He’d assumed she was staying at camp since it was the second place she thought of as her home besides their place. He hadn’t visited her all those days cause he thought it was better if he kept his distance for a while, they would make up before Christmas anyway.

Phone lights up my nightstand in the black Come here, you can meet me in the back Dark jeans and your Nikes, look at you

Jason spends the next hour calling Piper and Leo, the panic slipping through his voice while he tells them he has to go to camp but he doesn’t want to be alone cause Y/N is dying and he can’t do it, he can’t say goodbye like this. His friends tell him that they’ll be there in a couple of hours and that he just has to be strong in the meantime and go over at camp, that he can’t lose hope yet, cause Y/N might still survive.

He picks up a pair of dark jeans and his shoes, he changes quickly and grabs the keys of his car, passing by the mirror on the entrance. He stops to look at his reflection. It surprises him how utterly devastated he looks after a few hours of contemplating the possibility of losing his girlfriend. 

This scares him, he doesn’t want to know how will he look after a month without Y/N.

He stops a taxi and tells them indications of where they need to drive. The driver gives him a weird look but says nothing, obeying after Jason shows him the few dollars he has with him. 

While he’s inside the car with nothing else but his own thoughts, he can’t help but think of her, of how stupid he was when they fought.

Is it cool that I said all that? Is it chill that you're in my head? 'Cause I know that it's delicate (delicate) Is it cool that I said all that Is it too soon to do this yet?

“Jason for the last time, can you please just clean the table when you’re not working on your project?” Y/N asks, pushing away some blueprints and accidentally dropping some on the floor.

“Hey, can you at least be careful with those?” Jason retorts, standing up from the couch and leaving his laptop abandoned on the coffee table, “if I lose one the gods that are left with no altars will hunt me down”

“Well, is not my fault that you’re so messy,” She groans, sitting in front of her plate and staring at him, “I don’t like that you spend so much time doing those, you’ve been on this project since we were seventeen, Jason. You have to finish it.” 

“That’s what I’m trying to do,” He grumbles, harshly taking the blueprints from the table and walking away towards their room, “I work all the time so i can finish and you stop bickering about it.”

“Bickering?” Y/N asks offended, “excuse me? I’m just worried about you!”

“Really? Cause it sounds more like you’re tired of me” He replies from the bedroom.

Y/N stands up and goes to the room, she sees Jason there, carefully putting the blueprints inside a drawer.

“I’m not tired of you, don’t be stupid,” She crosses her arms, “I’m just sick of seeing these all over the house, why don’t you keep them in one place?”

“Cause they’re too many.”

“Well take some to camp, I know they’ll be safe back there.”

“I can’t, I need to have them with me in case I have to make changes.”

“Changes?” She huffs, “Jason, they don’t need changes, they need to be done.”

“I know that!” He groans, finally turning around and frowning, “it’s easy for you to say it, you’re not doing anything, you just go to school and come back here to eat and sleep, oh, how busy is your life.”

“Oh, shut up,” Y/N retorts, “you don’t know all the assignments I have to do to keep my good grades. And I wasn’t judging your productivity, by the way, but you’re just stressed and in a bad mood, so whatever, I’m not gonna fight with you.”

“Oh, you’re not gonna fight? You were the one who started,” He scowls, “you come home and you complain, we do nothing but fight and argue about the altars. Gods, sometimes I even wonder why are we still together.”

Long night, with your hands up in my hair Echoes of your footsteps on the stairs Stay here, honey, I don't wanna share 'Cause I like you

He arrives at camp at midnight, the snow outside the limits of camp cuts short where Thalia’s tree is, a clear sign of magic. He walks fast towards the big house, luckily for him, no harpies try to eat him and he gets to the door safely. He pushes it open.

“Chiron?” He asks out loud, “Mr. D?”

He walks towards the stairs and goes to the second floor, immediately he sees the light coming from one of the rooms on his right and get closer, opening the door without knocking.

Inside there’s a young demigod that he doesn’t know and Chiron in his wheelchair.

“You can go to sleep, Mylo,” Says the centaur, looking over at the young boy.

The demigod looks over at Jason in mild admiration. The younger groups do that a lot, knowing all about the prophecy of the seven, and how he and his friends saved the world. Jason gives him a polite smile and walks in, holding his breath.

Y/N is asleep, but her skin looks drained from any color and her lips look chapped. When he gets closer, Chiron starts to explain the situation.

“Y/N was in a mission to get rid of a group of Cyclops, one of their arrows went through her abdomen and another went through her shoulder blade. She got to escape and call for help but when we found her she was unconscious... Mylo did all he could to take care of her, he’s Apollo’s.”

Jason sat miserably on the chair where Mylo was moments ago, he carefully reached to touch her hair, with erratic movements he put a strand behind her ear and then held her hand tightly like it was the only thing keeping her tied to the mortal world.

“I’ll leave you alone,” Chiron left the room and closed the door behind him. 

Jason felt helpless, it all looked so definitive like everyone already had accepted Y/N’s death. He couldn’t, as long as her breathing was steady, he would have hope and he was determined to wait forever.

He needed her to stay.

Sometimes I wonder when you sleep Are you ever dreaming of me?

Two days had gone by and Y/N showed no sign of waking up, Leo and Piper made sure to leave food so Jason would eat, sometimes even staying in the room with him and trying to cheer him up, but Jason never really paid attention to what they were saying, his eyes were on her all the time, waiting, hoping to see her move, or even talk in her sleep, anything that could let him know she was still alive.

Was she dreaming? If so, about what... was her mortal life or her demigod life? 

Did she dream about him? Maybe forgave him, or maybe she would once she woke up to him sitting next to her bed, always waiting for her. All he knew was that he was ready to say anything just to get her back, he would stop working, he would drop anything just to be able to see her smile one more time.

Yeah, I want you

It was Christmas Eve when the Gods heard his prayers.

His eyes opened slowly, the dim light passing through the window warmed the room, barely, since he still felt cold on the tip of his fingers. A distant whimper stirred him up, and it became stronger as he straightened up on his chair, staring at the girl without fully comprehending, his mind too fuzzy.

Then, Y/n opened her eyes, she frowned and tried to cover her face from the sun, but her hand was intertwined with Jason’s. When she felt it, her stare fixed on him.

“Jason?” She asked in a hoarse voice, “what..?”

“You’re awake,” He whispered.

Before she could add another word, Jason started rambling.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. What I said was stupid, and you were right, I was stressed and moody, and you were just worried... then you left...”

“Jason, I... I died?”

“No,” He shook his head, voice trembling, “no, you’re okay. You’ll be okay.”

“I...” Y/N stares at the bruises on her arms and the bandages around the torso, “I was reckless, going on my own. I’m sorry, I should’ve never...”

“You did what a demigod it’s supposed to do. You’re a hero. And I love you for that,” Jason lifted her hand carefully and kissed her knuckles, “I’ll always will. What I said, about not knowing why are we still together. It was a delicate subject but, I know now.”

Is it cool that I said all that Is it too soon to do this yet? 'Cause I know that it's delicate (delicate) 'Cause I like you

“What is it, then?” His girlfriend asked quietly.

“It’s cause we want it that way,” He smiles, “because we’re meant to be. And I still like you so much...”

“I can’t argue against that,” She replied, with weariness, a faint smirk on her face.

“Yeah,” He grinned, cleaning the tears that were starting to fall, “I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you too, Grace.”

Jason could now say, he got his own Christmas miracle.

[dopescotlandwarrior]

Bluegrass-Chapter Three

                             Special thanks to @statell​ for all your help.

Previous chapter at AO3

Chapter Three

Claire was dripping on the carpet, buck naked, and shaking again from the cold. It was a staredown between the two women. One belonged there, one didn’t, but here they were.

“I am Doctor Beauchamp, your veterinarian, and you are?” Claire reached for another towel and the woman jumped at her, eyes wide with hatred, as Claire backed off and tried to walk around her to put her clothes back on. The woman pushed her into the wall, shocking Claire into action. “I’ve had enough of your bullshit. Is this how you treat all your guests? You are acting like a gangster girl protecting her territory. I wouldn’t think Jamie would go for such a cheap model, but I cannot ignore what’s in front of me. Kindly stand aside and I will relieve you of my presence.” The woman stood her ground with flaming hatred in her eyes like she might tear Claire apart. “Don’t you get it? You are nothing to me, Jamie is nothing to me, and this poisoned business means nothing to me. You are a couple of losers and our paths won’t cross again because I don’t deal with fucking riffraff!” As the words flew out of her mouth, Claire was shocked, wondering where they were coming from. She felt her cheeks hot with a blush from her uncharacteristic aggression. She grabbed her clothes and yanked them on as she ran for the door, it sounded like Dustin just pulled up to save her. The woman was screaming into her cell phone at Jamie to get back to the house before she died of shock after being attacked. Her tirade was so long Jamie just kept the line open and drove home to see his future wife. Dusty waited in the driveway for Claire and laughed when she did a perfect handstand off the three-step porch. They each sighed with relief as Highland Brothers Farms receded in the rearview, hopefully never to be seen again.

Jamie pulled into his driveway and watched Claire and Dusty turn the corner and drive out of his life. For some reason, he felt hollow inside, shaking his head he walked into the house to hold his fiance for the first time in eight weeks. She flew into his arms and held tight to his waist; head pressed against his chest with a nonstop description of how Claire attacked her. Jamie tried to pull her chin up, but she managed to squirm away from his control and continue her tirade.

“Isobel, why didnya tell me when ye were gettin in so I could pick ye up? I’ve been waitin eight weeks for a kiss from ye lass.” Isobel looked up at Jamie and demanded to know what that girl was doing in their shower. Jamie pulled her to a chair and started his long story of the past three days, softening the truth wherever possible. Isobel cried like he thought she might, but it wasn’t an hour of sobbing that kept him from her body, it was two days of continuous complaining, crying, and pushing him away. He needed to reconnect, and sex had always been the avenue back to each other but she resisted.

By the fourth day, he stopped trying, stopped talking to her, and stopped coming home for dinner. As the wedding date loomed, Isobel announced her father had rescheduled the nuptials six months in the future to see if they grew closer, as they once were. Jamie just shook his head feeling like he had lost all control over his life as the FBI tortured him during the day and Isobel took over at night. On the rare occasion she would cuddle with him, he made short work of grabbing an orgasm before she turned her back on him for another month. Now and then, Jamie would google Claire Beauchamp, DVM to catch up on her life. His smile was big and soft when he saw the celebration for the return of the tiger family. No longer babies, the mother still licked, loved, and disciplined with the male right behind her. He found Claire in the pictures and studied her face, wishing her well. Jamie tried to get Isobel involved in the business because this was the life they promised each other, the life her father had financed for them. She wanted no part of Jamie’s world, yet she complained vehemently about boredom and her hatred for Kentucky. Several times when Jamie showed up at home for lunch, he would hear the back door click closed or find Isobel in an animated conversation on the phone which quickly ended, then her sour attitude took over again. He wondered how they ever got to this emotional wasteland.

It was on a whim that he ended up in Ireland the summer of his sixteenth year. He and his friends dared and double-dared each other until they were rounded up at the airport by the barn supervisor and taken to a breeding farm for racehorses. It was hard work, but racing got into his blood and he went back the second year without the others. Because no one had ever come back for another summer, the barn supervisor took a special interest in Jamie, encouraging his questions and sending him to help with day races.

Coming back to Scotland he looked for an opportunity with racehorses, crossing paths with Geneva Dunsany. The beautiful flirt could not hold a candle to his true love of racing and she became petulant and cranky before long. Jamie could not keep up with her moods and temperament and the relationship ended after a year. He got to know Isobel from family dinners and weekends away during the holidays. She was the polar opposite of her wicked sister, at least she was then.

While Jamie was still deciding if it was proper to date Geneva’s sister, Isobel pulled him into the barn at their family estate and professed her love for him. She spun a web with her words and pushed her tongue into his mouth, two months later she was pregnant and sobbing on his shoulder.

Jamie was filled with emotions like guilt, terror, remorse, and regret. He could not fathom how this could happen when Isobel was on the pill, but there it was, his pregnant girlfriend.

He spoke to Mister Dunsany with tears in his eyes and confessed Isobel was pregnant and asked for her hand in marriage. They talked at length about what Jamie wanted in life and how this news would affect his chance to get it. Jamie knew his prospects at joining the horse racing world were far out of reach and it devastated him.

Dunsany was a smart man and knew a devoted husband required options, goals outside of the home, and a belief in himself. He doubted his daughter would sustain those needs because she was self- centered and stupid. He arranged to send the unhappy couple to Kentucky and put up the money to buy land and build a state-of-the-art facility for breeding horses. The original dams were purchased by him and all costs to maintain the business for the first year were paid in full.

He hoped the prestige of owning such a complex would keep Isobel happy and in America because he couldn’t stand the sight of her anymore, or her sister for that matter. To Jamie, it was a dream come true and he asked Isobel to marry him before they left Scotland.

Jamie felt wretched about his lack of love for Isobel, but they both tried hard in the first two years to please each other, to find joy in their new life, and excitement in their future. Isobel loved one of Jamie’s new horses, Porcelain Love, and spent most of her time riding and working with her trainer. To what end was never clear to Jamie but Isobel seemed happy.

On a warm summer day, Isobel took a fall while riding with her trainer. She complained loudly about pain in her abdomen, rolling back and forth on the bed in their room. Jamie was beside himself and put his fist through a wall outside their room. Isobel would not let him enter, help or comfort her, and the continuous sobbing was driving him crazy.

The next morning Isobel was at the breakfast table with a puffy face telling Jamie she lost the baby during the night. He tried to get her to a hospital, but she refused and was riding again three days later. Jamie worried about her, but she looked the picture of health and was willing to give him her body a short week later. When he looked up miscarriage on Google he was utterly confused and when the tiny voice of reason suggested maybe she never was pregnant he slammed the lid on his laptop and forced himself to think about other things.

Their lives continued much the same over the next year and Jamie had prized foals for his breeding efforts. He was able to pay double and triple loan payments back to Dunsany and his confidence grew with each foaling. His best broodmare would shoot Jamie to the top of breeders in Kentucky, when her foals from previous years started winning big races. He knew if he could spend more time choosing studs, researching sire lines and being at the track he would do so much better, but Isobel needed too much attention.

When Isobel announced she was going home for two months to see her family, Jamie felt nothing and did not try to stop her. His first night alone he walked the numerous hallways of the enormous house that Isobel insisted on. The emotions that filled him were relief, happiness, and excitement. He was stuck with a shrew, but for the next eight weeks he would live in blissful silence.

With so much extra time he devoured books about how a man loves, what made marriages work, how to fall in love and a dozen more. He was determined to read himself into the perfect groom. He created mantras to say daily like “I love my woman”, “she completes me” and other, equally corny phrases that he hoped would bring love for Isobel to his heart. He put his best face forward when she came home but it was little more than a mask on a sack of grain. When Isobel returned more hateful than ever it was just so easy to ignore her. The mantras were dropped, the books were thrown away, and Jamie threw himself into the work he loved. Claire’s name came up in conversation with another breeder and that night he checked Claire’s Facebook, and saw pictures and comments about Dusty leaving for vet school. There were comments and messages from most of the breeders at Jamie’s level. He was so proud of her and Dusty both. Angus and Rupert remained Jamie’s trusted companions, but even they would be caught looking at him strangely at times. In an effort to pull them back into his life, Jamie arranged a poker night and stocked his bar with the best whisky that all three men enjoyed a bit too much. Once they were good and drunk, Rupert mumbled something about the poisoning making Jamie’s head snap up. He couldn’t let it go and continued to ask them questions about their thoughts on that day until it came tumbling out of Rupert’s mouth. “Ye lads think I did it, is that it?” Jamie wanted to tear into his friends and struggled to give the appearance of calm innocence. “We know it was yer horses that were poisoned, none of the others. It just looks bad Jamie boy, like you wanted the insurance money or somethin.” The questions became more pointed and the moods more combative until Jamie finally stood up and glowered at them making them both stop talking. “Ye two idiots are overlookin one horse that remained healthy, and mine, Porcelain Love was not poisoned, and she’s insured same as the others. Suppose ye explain that.” “Isobel’s horse?” Rupert turned a suspicious eye on Jamie. “I held her back from the breeding program because Isobel fell in love with her. I never transferred ownership so yer theory isna worth a shit.” When his drunk friends left, they were quiet because they were too drunk to think. Jamie staggered to his room and slept in his clothes because he couldn’t remember how to get them off. He spent two days in bed with a righteous hangover and remembered nothing about the argument with his friends. The events that Claire endured in the three days following the poisoning were such an assault to her life, that she vowed never to share space with James Fraser again. She worked very hard to forget the dead horses, the FBI abuse, and the crazy girlfriend who accosted her in Jamie’s bathroom. She and Dustin resumed their ordered world and for the next seven months pretended that nothing could stop them. If one of them mentioned Dustin’s leaving for school the other would shut the conversation down and change the subject. Doors to the best breeding farms continued to open and Claire’s reputation grew, along with her income. “Hello Claire, I don’t know if you remember me but…” “How could I ever forget what you did for me, of course I remember you! What is happening over there?” “Well, the director was fired shortly after you were here which is a big plus. It took a while, but I finally found the tigers, Claire. The zoo purchased them back after the public uproar caused by that news release. You remember, when you tried to tear the director apart for what he did?” Claire giggled at the memory and felt a growing excitement because the tigers were coming home. “We want you here when we release them back to the male. The babies are grown now, still under the mama’s control but it's uncertain if the male will accept them. I was hoping you could spend some time with him before they come. Prepare him.” Claire almost felt dizzy from the absolute acceptance of her gift. It was the first time she had a conversation with someone who believed her, and she found it liberating. She was excited to see the tiger again and join in the celebration. The tiger was back in his original enclosure where he had better access to Claire. She sent him pictures in her mind of what his children now looked like. Over and over he rejected them, transferring to Claire an image of young tiger cubs instead. “You were little once.” Holding each picture in her mind. “You grew up into a magnificent adult, but you are the same tiger inside that you’ve always been.” She continued to see pictures of babies in her head. They were getting nowhere. Claire sat on the floor and ran her hands down the tiger’s back. “Your wife is coming home, does that make you happy?” she laughed at the sparkling colors that exploded in her mind. “I’ll take that as a yes!” The arrival of the tigers was kept quiet by Claire’s request. The male tiger was not accepting the change in his offspring and she worried about the public witnessing a confrontation. The adult female was shown first, her crate pushed against the bars so the tiger could get reacquainted with her. Watching them sniff and growl quietly made Claire so happy. He was thanking her, over and over again with his images of sparkling color. After two hours they released her and the two made short work of showing their joy. The next day the juvenile tigers were released one at a time as everyone held their breath. The first young tiger pressed into his mother and she licked his head and laid down with him. This ritual was followed until all three were with their mother. Claire hated to leave the tiger, but she had surgeries scheduled in the afternoon. One last time she sent him images of his tiny babies and how they looked now. The old handler walked her to the parking lot and again stayed with her until Dusty came for her. She waved happily and they drove away. “Is that guy sweet on you?” Dusty almost sneered at the man before turning around to drive away. “No, he’s just a friend and very important to the tigers. Ready for a busy afternoon?” “Of course.” Claire thought about Jamie sometimes, mostly wondering if they ever solved the mystery, whodunnit and how did he do it. Her curiosity faded over time and he would drift in and out of her head quite randomly it seemed. When August rolled in, Claire and Dusty were pulled in every direction with vet checks as the animals were prepared for the September auction at Keeneland. This was where owners chose the horse that might enter the road to the Kentucky Derby. The racing industry was abuzz with excitement as breeders advertised the product of their matches. This is what separated the exceptional breeders from the rest. Expertise to choose the best stud, and more importantly a dam with a history of foaling stakes-winning horses, especially two-turn races. These foals were highly valued, and the selling price could exceed a million dollars. Claire was unaware that the foal she cut out of the dead dam at Highland Brothers on the day of the poisoning, was just such a colt. Claire leaned against a tree and had a snack with Dusty watching the two-year-olds run the track. Clearly, there were those that were endowed with the physical attributes and mentality for racing and those that were not. They were spending the day vetting weanlings and yearlings. She looked at Dusty laying on his back, sound asleep. It would all come to an end in a week and she hadn’t dealt with that yet because it felt like she was losing a part of herself. She knew he was worried about her, but he was excited to start the greatest experience of his young life. She just watched his serene face and tried to memorize it for when she missed him. He wanted to work together when he came home a DVM and talked about it constantly. She loved his enthusiasm but didn’t share his vision of the future, so she remained quiet during these times.

“Why can’t we talk about working together when I come home Doctor B? It makes it easier to leave.”

“Knowing that possibility is alive as a possible future will give me comfort too Dustin. I have not shut my mind to it, nor do I want you obligated to me. Take your life as it comes and I will do the same. Who knows, we may decide to work together when you’re done.” She kept her schedule very light for the next week so Dustin could get packed and she could interview candidates to take his place. She felt her phone vibrate against her hip and felt a bump of excitement looking at the caller. “Doctor Beauchamp.” “Claire! Glad I caught you. Would you forgive a guy for being bold and asking you to dinner? If not, then this conversation is over.” Claire smiled to herself and tried to think about what he was asking? She decided this was not a professional call so that could only mean… “You may speak freely sir,” she giggled. “My brother is opening a restaurant next weekend and I need a girlfriend for the evening. Sorry, that sounds ridiculous. To be honest, I have fallen into the category of men who marry their careers and I have no social life. It’s pathetic. I’ll say it for you.” He laughed a little self-consciously, with just enough humility to tug at Claire’s heart. “That sounds wonderful Chad, it would be my honor. Should I meet you at the compound?” “If I remember correctly, that would be a heinous mistake. If you don’t mind, I will pick you up. Since you were so nice to agree, pick any dress you want at Logan’s and it’s on me. One stipulation, it has to be over one-hundred dollars.” “That is a nice treat and since I am woefully short on evening wear, I might just take you up on that offer. Thank you Chad, I’m excited already.” The date, time, and address were exchanged, and Claire clicked off feeling something unfamiliar like she suddenly felt pretty. It was enough to put some extra energy in her walk for the rest of the day. Claire interviewed eight people feeling even more miserable about Dustin leaving. Her perfect assistant would be a strong male, well-grounded so he could take orders without feeling emasculated, an open mind to deal with her diagnostic methods, and was agreeable to assist her day or night. She only had one more day to interview new people and she was feeling hopeless. This is the very reason female veterinarians rarely choose large animals as a specialty, they needed strength to assist them. She looked down her list of candidates she had interviewed, and her heart sank. There was one more interview, a female named Molly, she felt utterly defeated. Molly knocked on Claire’s door ten minutes before their meeting which added a plus one before the door even opened. Claire smiled and leaned forward to shake the woman’s hand and felt the grip of strength and purpose. Molly had a pretty face and charm so characteristic of a Kentucky upbringing. She also had the body of a female wrestler and enough inner strength to look into Claire’s eyes when she talked. Plus two. They wandered in the woods and chatted away about the job, Molly’s experience with horses, and her willingness to learn. Claire was over the moon with this young woman and asked if she wanted to ride along with her and Dustin for the last day. Molly was excited and could hardly contain her enthusiasm. Plus three. When Dusty honked outside, Claire’s throat closed up and her eyes stung with tears. He would never be waiting for her again, she realized, and she pushed back hard on that emotion. Molly could see her struggle to compose herself, realizing she was stepping into shoes that were very important to her new employer. She felt nervous and tried to rally her confidence that deserted her as she watched Claire and Dustin together during afternoon treatments. Just before she was ready to abandon ship and run, Claire left her alone with Dusty for a quick meeting with the breeder. Dusty was aware of Molly’s growing silence and he wanted to infuse her with confidence to help Claire. It was all for Claire, it was always Claire that motivated his direction. “You will be a great assistant for Doctor Beauchamp Molly, I’m glad you’ve accepted the job. Crap, when I think of how awful I was in the beginning, it makes me cringe. Doctor B never said a word when I fetched the wrong horse or forgot to connect the cross ties and let one run away. I was all thumbs looking for the right gauge needle or syringe and my hands shook all the time.” Dusty shook his head and smiled at the memory. He noticed Molly had straightened her posture and was listening intently. C’mon girl, buck the hell up, he thought, you walk in the shadow of the most amazing person on earth. The sooner you see that the better. On the way to Dusty’s house, Claire went through her files and updated the notes for the week. “Did we just do vet checks at Sterling last week? Jesus, I don’t remember how many.” “Ten two-year old’s, nine perfect, one shin splint, the gray gelding, Happy Runner. You need to bill that day if you haven’t already.” Claire wrote furiously as Dusty talked and Molly watched. “The colt we treated at 3 Chimneys?” “Shelly hooves, biotin supplement with rapeseed daily, sound otherwise. Wormed five three-year olds, need to bill whatshisname. I don’t like the way he looks at you Doctor B so be careful around him, don’t go alone.” Claire wanted to ask if that included her date with him next weekend but thought better of the idea and went on to the next file on her lap. She forced herself not to look up until she felt the truck stop and knew they were at Dustin’s house. Try as she might, the tears were welling up already and she couldn’t stop them as she felt Dustin get out of the driver’s seat.

“You remember how to drive, right Doctor B?” When he saw her tears, he pulled her out of the truck and hugged her tightly. He told her he wanted to stay another year, but it would jeopardize his scholarships and he was so sorry he had to leave. He let her hug him while he thanked her for every single thing she had done for him until his voice shook with emotion. For Molly, it was a view into the relationship her employer was losing, and it rocked her to the core. Claire looked up at this incredible young man and told him to be early for everything, no dating until his GPA was 4.0, and get a Facebook page so she could spy on his progress. Dustin laughed, wiping his eyes and made a hasty exit, waving to Molly as he sprinted toward his home. Claire looked at the steering wheel of her truck and wanted to yell for Dustin to save her from this task. You just hugged that right goodbye she told herself, so find your bravery and get into that truck. Molly watched her new boss wondering why she was hesitating. Like a whisper from her angel she got out and asked if she could drive. Claire shot around the truck and jumped into the passenger seat with a rush of relief. Molly dropped the vehicle into drive and expertly maneuvered the cars and other obstacles on the drive back to Claire’s house. The only distraction was Claire’s sobbing. Plus 4 for Molly. Claire was composed when they climbed the steep steps to her home. She noticed Molly’s white knuckle death grip on the rail and was horrified at the spontaneous laugh that burped out of her mouth. “I’m sorry to laugh dearest, but it seems you have a height issue. It bothered me in the beginning too, you will get used to it, I promise.” She held an elbow until they were successfully at the top and invited Molly in for a bit to talk about the job. She would make it quick as she had already taken an afternoon of her time. Plus five for Molly. Later that evening when Claire enjoyed some peaceful moments on her patio she looked to the quiet beast of a vehicle and decided she had to get used to driving again. Before she changed her mind, she was in the driver’s seat heading down her dirt road at ten miles per hour. Seeing the end of the road she deftly pushed the gear into reverse and twisted the wheel hard, then drive, and twisted the wheel again, then reverse with the wheel getting hard to turn. She was winded when she looked up finding herself quite stuck between a very large tree in the front and a duplicate in the back. “Jesus Christ, how did I do this?” She got out and looked at both bumpers in relation to the offending trees and decided it was impossible to get out of this position without removing a tree. She went from one bumper to the other for ten minutes with mounting panic and was startled by a neighbor who asked if she needed help. She spun toward the voice and her face brightened with hope. “I seem to have jammed my truck between trees and I cannot get out.” “We don’t hear that kind of accent around these parts, but I like it. May I?” Claire’s smile was all about permission and gratitude as she shook her head and moved out of his way. She watched what she decided was expert handling of her massive, stupid vehicle and shook the man’s hand vigorously as he laughed. The neighbor watched her ease down the street, a bit slower this time and laughed again. Claire ran up her steps and locked herself into the house looking out at the vehicle like it would somehow demand she drive again. That is enough of everything for today, she decided. She poured a healthy glass of whisky to reward her efforts, heal her broken heart, and celebrate her new assistant, Molly.

[very-grownup]

THE YEAR IS 2020 AND I WATCHED NEON GENESIS EVANGELION FOR THE FIRST TIME, PART 9

Episode 21.

Suddenly it's a found footage shakey cam horror movie. I think it's meant to be footage of ... NERV before it was NERV labs in 2000 with some bad shit happening. I'm unclear of so much in this episode, guys.

There is one of those blue screens with the white text that warns you that if you make copies of this you will go to jail for a million years, though, which feels nice and nostalgic before we get into the opening credits. (Opening? Still a bop. Thank you, '90s.)

Episode 21 continues behind the cut.

Someone has been kidnapped from NERV, possibly by or because of Kaji (fuckin' Kaji), and because all these NERV people are interchangeable except for Misato, Ritsuko, and Shinji's horrible father, I have no idea who it is until we see the old dude who is usually behind Ikari. He's tied to a chair in a black void, surrounded by an increasing number of numbered obelisks who I think are the old man Simon council but instead of projecting as old men they're ... obelisks. Look, their government is run by supercomputers named after the Magi. This is as fine as anything.

The obelisks don't like Commander Ikari (same) or what he's doing (same) and want Number 2 to explain what's going on (same) due to the Dead Sea Scrolls and their desire not to create god (... same?). Which means it's time for BACKSTORY or as close as this show gets to backstory.

Number 2 used to be a scientist/academic at ... a school ... lab ... university ... somewhere ... where he met a promising young student of ... science stuff ... named Ikari. There's some sentence vagaries to make the audience think the student is a young Commander Ikari but PSYCH, it's /Yui/, Shinji's mysteriously dead mother. This is not a big surprise, because no one would be anticipating meeting Gendo Ikari. What is a surprise is that Yui Ikari is currently single, although if you've consumed enough Japanese media you've probably encountered cases where a husband takes the wife's surname and is adopted into her family when there's no sons in the family (Summer of the Ubume). ANYWAY Yui is currently single and Number 2 talks to her about her post-graduation career plans, failing to consider that maybe she wants to get married and start a family. Find your own path and all that but also: this is a woman who is going to make terrible life choices.

I don't know why, but as a favour to Yui, Number 2 goes to spring an absolute piece of shit ... fellow student? from the drunk tank after he got arrested for brawling and it is, of course, Gendo Originalsurnamewhocareshesucks. We see him without his glasses for the first time. Even though this is ~15 years ago, Gendo without his glasses is the worst thing ever, rivaling yes the EVA with the giant white human teeth ripping an Angel apart and screaming. I hate looking at him, his cheeks sunken and his eyes huge, very like a skull. The real thesis material in Evangelion is: why has anyone ever slept with this awful gaunt uncharming skull man? He has the visage and personality of someone whose genetic line should die with him.

On a nature walk (because this is before seasons are destroyed by the second impact [and this is a really pretty scene, too, all fall leaves and oranges and red, more vibrant yet gentle than the series often is]) Yui reveals to Number 2 that she and Gendo are in a relationship. Why? Look, that's some Dead Sea Scrolls bullshit, learn ancient Hebrew and get into archeology, unearth some tablets, figure it out for yourselves.

The Second Impact happens and destroys Antarctica and Misato's father and she becomes mute for a while after this and also is kept in a featureless hospital cell for observation with a few age appropriate toys for company and for some reason this doesn't help her mental trauma. No wonder her roommate's a penguin.

The Misato flashback may seem like it comes out of nowhere and if so /hey welcome to my experience of this episode/ where I mostly had my hands on my forehead like I needed to reinforce my brain to process everything.

Number 2 and Shitty Gendo are in Antarctica after the Second Impact with the neon pink ocean and the none ice and oh Gendo and Yui got married. Surprise! Gendo and Yui or Gendo through Yui are involved in something called Seele which is the thing that becomes NERV I think. What's going on /shut up I don't know/ there's some kind of secret science government military organization and it involves the Ikari and then Number 2 and also Ritsuko's mother and underground caverns that may be cities and is this Atlantis? Ancient aliens? Akashic records? I DON'T KNOW Number 2 has concerns and Yui both seems to agree with Number 2's concerns but also is down with whatever Gendo's doing and they have Shinji and he seems like a pretty happy and cute baby and Yui seems to love him even though she brings him to work. And by work I mean the underground lab where they're dissecting or recreating flesh tube skeletons from Adam or building Adam or using Adam to build what will be the Evas, specifically on the day Yui is doing The Experiment. I don't think bringing little Shinji to work is a great idea or a sign of great parenting, especially when The Experiment goes awry and Yui is killed in front of Shinji's toddler eyes.

Ritsuko's mother, Dr. ... Doctor, doesn't approve of kids in the secret mad scientist bunker but MAN does she approve of Yui being killed. Because, somehow, she also wants to fuck Gendo Ikari, a skeleton of emotional abuse and neglect wearing sausage casing as skin.

There's also some stuff here about young Ritsuko (she's not a natural blonde! but honestly the fleeting glimpses of Ritsuko at different ages in this episode show greater awareness of how women can change without just relying on bigger breasts more hair than I'd expect). She and her mother exchange letters where they seem to be more honest with each other than they are in person and I wish there was more time spent dwelling in that, because Evangelion has an imperfect but still insightful view of the complexity of mother-daughter relationships. She goes away to school and meets Misato and they bond and become friends and they each seem to be the other's first friend due to their various issues and weirdness and Ritsuko's clearly at least a little in love with Misato. Unfortunately, Misato is dating Kaji (fuckin' Kaji) and Dr. Doctor thinks Kaji is a pretty great catch, but like ... Dr. Doctor wants to fuck or possibly is fucking Gendo Ikari, so if you can think of a great condemnation of Kaji than this, I'd love to hear it (fuckin' Kaji).

Misato and Ritsuko both join Seele or NERV or whatever the fuck these secret awful organizations are currently calling themselves, with Misato going to Germany and Ritsuko starting to work with her mother and also seeing her mother just jamming her tongue down Gendo's throat. Truly, Ritsuko could never understand her mother as a woman and neither can we, because /why would you desire Gendo Ikari/ and his judgmental touch, icy even through fucking Mickey Mouse gloves.

SO ONE DAY Gendo comes to work with a young Rei and I guess since Yui died no one has seen Shinji since people are looking at Rei and going 'oh is this your son?' and 'I thought you had a son, not a daughter'. But no, Rei is the daughter of a friend Gendo is looking after. Imagine thinking 'Gendo Ikari has even a single friend' is a believable lie.

Since Yui's death, no one has bothered to institute any kind of secret underground lab rules about kids on the premises, because while Dr. Doctor is doing some shit with her O. Henry super computers, little Rei wanders in and proceeds to neg the shit out of this grown woman. They're obviously not the words of a child and it's been clear since the beginning that there's something Not Right about Rei, but when she tells Dr. Doctor that she's a sexually undesirable hag and a nagging shrew and has outlived her purpose they're the words of a man. An adult man, specifically Gendo Ikari, as Rei just straight up tells Dr. Doctor upon being scolded for rudeness. Dr. Doctor's poor judgment of character means she is semi-shocked and hurt by this and sent into a weird fugue state where she chokes Rei until a small arm goes limp. Dr. Doctor thinks about how both she and Rei are both equally replaceable to Gendo, who is still hung up on Yui as much as he seems able to have an emotional attachment to anyone, and so finds all other women to be interchangeable tools.How replaceable Rei is could be a reference to whatever Rei's unnatural origins are, but we've also seen that Gendo considers children to be a renewable and easily disposable resource.

Then Dr. Doctor kills herself (or is murdered, who can say) and gets ... replaced by her daughter in the project.

SO I GUESS THIS IS ALL PART OF NUMBER 2'S TESTIMONY TO THE OBELISKS or maybe not but his thing is done or on break and fuckin' Kaji is there to ... break him out? Even though he's the reason Number 2 was getting interrogated? I don't know, I don't know.

They only use one set of handcuffs for Number 2, but they had three on Shinji in the previous episode.

Misato also had some thing with security intelligence interrogation going on in this episode maybe but they're done and give her back her gun.

Then Kaji's hanging out in a Silent Hill otherworld before a giant fan in weird sickly light and the screen goes black with a gunshot and I don't believe he's dead because I've been fooled about fuckin' Kaji before.

... but then Misato comes home, looking utterly exhausted and devastated, and she sees the message light blinking on her answering machine and she presses play as tears fill her eyes and she collapses to her knees listening to a message from Kaji. He apologizes for causing her trouble yet again, asks her to apologize to Ritsuko as well, asks her to get Shinji to show her where his garden is so she can water the flowers for him, and promises to tell her what he was too scared to tell her years ago. Misato's crying becomes heartwrenching raw sobs (Kotono Mitsuishi does a great job here, breaking my heart) and Shinji, curled up in his room, takes out his headphones and peeks into the kitchen to take in this vision of distraught, helpless adult grief. Then he goes back to his room without alerting Misato to his presence and pulls his pillow over his head, trying to drown out Misato's sobs, because he's just a kid and he knows there's nothing he can do and so he doesn't know what he /should/ do.

Although I've been wanting it for episodes, Kaji's death becomes a bitter pill that I can feel no mean satisfaction from. I'm not sure what's going on, but I know Misato's distraught. This concludes my report on Episode 21 of Neon Genesis Evangelion.

[chickensarentcheap]

Best Part of Me -Chapter 29

Warnings: none really

Tagging: @ocfairygodmother​, @innerpaperexpertcloud​, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y​, @alievans007​

The water is scalding. Causing her to wince; ripping the breath from her lungs as she steps underneath it. Accepting it’s brutality and punishment in an attempt to exchange physical pain for internal. She bites down on her bottom lip hard enough to break skin and draw blood; holds her breath and bouncing up and down on her heels as she suffers through the temporary agony in the hopes of gaining long term relief.

Her heart aches. A pain far more intense than anything she’s ever experienced in her thirty-five years.  An emptiness has settled deep inside of her; holes that had long ago been patched back together threatening to burst wide open. The anguish is unbearable. The start of what feels like prolonged state of mourning that comes with expected yet still devastating loss. It’s a painful and bitter pill to swallow when you’ve the end of your rope and no matter how desperately you try to hold on, you still wind up torn apart and broken in the end.

Tyler’s confession had blindsided her; knocking the wind clear out of her and sending both her emotions and her reality into a violent tailspin. She’d a setback when it came to alcohol. After all, he’d fallen off the wagon three times in the last six and half years and the last time she’d relegated herself to the fact that it would always be part of their life. Comforting herself with thoughts of how at least he wasn’t a mean or a violent drunk. Loud and obnoxious, and often overly emotional and sensitive and sometimes even absentminded and neglectful, but never intimidating or aggressive. That she would never tolerate.

But he hadn’t had Oxy in his system since the rehab stint after Dhaka, and it had been successfully flushed from his system and he’d never gone back to it again. It’d been a tough battle, but he’d come out happier and healthier without the added weight of dependency. For almost seven years he’d never given the drug a second thought and had dedicated himself to living a cleaner life; hating the mere thought of taking anything stronger than over the counter pain medication despite being in near constant agony.

Things had been better. Even with alcohol still in the picture. Once he was off the Oxy he became calmer. More content. Those jagged and rough edges softening. But then the Dhaka nightmares began and was closely followed by depression and PTSD; powerful and unrelenting demons that had dragged him into the very depths of hell. Convincing him that he -and everyone around him- would be better off if he had died that day on the bridge. There’d been no reasoning with him while in that state, and it had taken two legitimate suicide attempts and as many psych ward stays to convince him to get the help that he so desperately needed.

But they’d made it through. Somehow emerging from the darkest and most dreadful times -and a six month separation- stronger than ever. Surviving things that would have torn most couples apart. And even though the battle with alcohol had remained, not once had he ever mentioned needing or wanting or Oxy. Even while rehabbing from painful knee and shoulder replacement surgeries. He’d just battled through it; never complaining, barely wincing or grimacing even on the worst days. He’d accepted it as his new natural state of life; permanent punishment for the bad decisions and the horrible things he’d had to resort to just to stay alive. A life of physical suffering in exchange for having a life at all.

It had been hard. Hearing the confession as it tumbled from lips. The stark and brutal realization of just how lost and troubled he actually is; seeing the desperation and vulnerability...and even shame and disgust...in his eyes and all over his face. It’s difficult; loving someone that much and having to watch them suffer. Knowing that there’s more you can do for them and feeling completely and utterly helpless. There’s no words that can make things better or take all the pain -both physical and mental- away.

She’d known the moment he’d said it that things were out of her reach. That HE was out of her reach. That there was nothing more she could say or do that would make even the slightest bit of difference. That if things keep spiralling out of control and the want and need became too powerful to control, he would fall back into old habits. And that will be the final straw. No more chances. No more thinking that love alone is enough to save someone. It should be -and it would be- in a perfect world. But there’s only so much she can take; only so much fight left in her. And if he gets to that point, she will have lost him. With no chance of ever getting him back.

The tears come now. Spilling down her face and joined by painful, choking sobs that cause her entire body to quake. Tears of anger and frustration; profound sadness that accompanies an impending loss. The ache in her heart and the tightness in her chest increasing, and she places both palms and her forehead against cool, smooth tile and closes her eyes. Standing directly under the steaming, pounding water until there’s no more tears to shed and the sobs settle into nothing more than soft, pitiful whimpers.

You can do this, she tells herself, even though the emptiness and the tremendous sense of loss say otherwise.  You’ve gotten through worse. You got through Dhaka. You got through what happened on the bridge. You can get through this too.

She thinks of those minutes and hours immediately afterwards; sitting in a packed OR waiting room still clad in the same clothes and Doc Marten boots she’d been wearing on the bridge. Covered in dirt and grime and blood. So much blood. Some of it still bright and damp and smelling fresh, other areas thick and dark and stiffening the fabric of her t-shirt. It had caked and stained her hands and gathered under her nails; travelled all the way to her elbows and was streaked across her face and forehead and had even settled in her hair. She’d been alone. No Nik. No Yaz. No team members whose names she didn’t remember. And the shock of just what had happened -the things she’d seen and the things she’d done- had left her feeling numb. As if her body and mind were acting on their own accord and she had absolutely no control over them.

She can remember the looks on other peoples’ faces. Their outright horror and disgust at being confronted by so much blood,  their obvious concern for her fragile mental state, and genuine curiosity. Complete strangers had offered her drinks of water and juice and small snacks, yet couldn’t refrain from asking well meaning yet horribly invasive questions that she had no reasonable answers for. A nurse had brought her a pair of scrubs and socks to change into and had escorted her to a staff shower so she could clean herself up. And she remembers standing under the water watching as all the blood washed away; swirling around at her feet before disappearing down the drain.

She hadn’t been in the waiting area for ten minutes before the surgeon had come out with his first update; grim faced and stern, not an ounce of confidence in his eyes. Giving her the clear plastic bag packed with Tyler’s belongings; whatever could be salvaged, that was. Combat boots, cell phone, the watch and the bracelets he’d been wearing, the utility vest. She’d spent half an hour in a public washroom trying to scrub the latter clean; sobbing uncontrollably as she tried to ignore the rips and the tears and the bullet holes, using hand soap to attempt to get all of the blood and dirt out. Her stunned and foolish brain convincing her that it HAD to be done. After all, he might need it again.

Tightly screwing her eyes shut, she drops her chin to her chest; breathing slow and steady as she lets the steaming water pound against her body. And while soothing, it does nothing to wash away the vivid and haunting memories that will forever plague her mind.

****

She finds him on the couch; in nothing but a pair of tattered old sweats with his legs stretched out and his bare feet propped on the coffee table.  Eyes closed and breathing soft and steady; Addie lying high on his chest with her face against his neck, his cheek pressed against the side of her head and a protective hand on her back. It’s quite the sight; that big, strong man made up muscles and tattoos and scars with a tiny baby clad in a bubble gum pink sleeper. And she’s quiet and stealthy as she picks up his cell from where it sits on the coffee table, quickly snapping a picture before returning the phone to its resting place.

“What’cha doing?” It’s a groggy mumble, stirred awake when he feels her plucking the empty baby bottle from where he’d set in between his thighs.

“You fell asleep,” she explains, then places the bottle on the table. “Want me to take her? I can put her in her crib and you…”

“Leave her. She’s fine for now.”

With his free hand he reaches out and takes hold of her wrist, gently tugging her towards him and down onto the couch. Arm wrapping around her when she settles in tightly against him; legs tucked under her, head against his shoulder, a hand on his stomach.  

The familiarity of him is comforting; smooth skin against her cheek, the smell that clings to him, the warmth of the strong, solid body and the feel of those tight, well defined abdominal muscles under her fingertips as she slowly and methodically traces each one. Yet she can feel the tension in her shoulders and that aching -that dread- that lingers in the pit of her stomach. And she wonders if he’s fallen asleep again; if those demons and those monsters have finally agreed to let him rest.  Until she feels the brush of his thumb along her shoulder and then his body moving against hers as he carefully moves Addie from her resting place; laying her along his forearm with her head in the crook of his elbow, then tucking her tightly into him.

“Everything okay?” Tyler asks, and she nods. “You haven’t said much since we got home.”

That was eight hours ago, and since then they’ve maybe had five minutes of meaningful conversation. Despite putting on a good front with the smiles and the laughs, they’d been fabricated for the most part. She’d been quiet and distant. With him, with the kids, even with Salena who’d cover over to ‘hangout’ with Ovi and Kyle while they held down things on the homefront.

He’d thought things were okay; that his confession and the open and honest -and completely rational- talk afterwards had been a good start. That while it was going to be a long, hard road, at least they were beginning it on the right foot.  And he hates how weak it makes him feel; how the last seven years of fighting PTSD and depression and everything that comes with him have left him a neurotic, self conscious mess.

“There hasn’t been much to say,” she says, as her fingers continue their exploration of his abs and the small scars and imperfections that mar his stomach. “It’s been one thing after another since we got home.”

“Yeah,” he agrees. “It’s been a little...I don’t know…”

“Off the reservations?”

He chuckles. “That works.”

“And it annoyed me that there were so many goddamn people here. Ovi and Chloe and Kyle and Salena.  Like what the hell? We’re not a drop in centre or a shelter for wayward youth.”

“Well someone did have to watch the kids.”

“They should have left when we got back. They didn’t have to stick around. It’s like having four other kids. We have to entertain them and feed them and worry about keeping them happy. I’m their maid or their mother. Like, fuck off already.”

Tyler grins. “You’re feisty tonight.”

“It just pissed me off. I love having my brother visit and I like Salena and it’s nice to have a friend. But God. Go away. I like when it’s just us and the kids and I don’t have to worry about other people.”

“Fuck ‘em. I don’t worry about anyone else. Just my people. That’s all that I care about.”

“Is it wrong that I’m glad my brother is next door eating the neighbour’s ass like a cupcake?”

“When you say it that way? Yes. It is. It is wrong. In so many ways.”

“I mean, I know he just met her and despite what he says, I know it’s one of the main reasons he broke things off with Nik. But at least he’s out of my hair. I’ve got enough to deal with. I don’t need his bullshit on top of it.”

“You know what I think? I think we’re the last two people who should be talking about things happening too fast between him and Sabrina.”

“Salena,” she corrects. “I don’t know if you actually don’t remember her name, or if you just call her Sabrina just to be a dick.”

“It’s just to be a dick,” Tyler admits.

“You honestly don’t like her? It’s not just you being paranoid for no reason?”

“It’s not that I don’t like her. I just don’t trust her. And not in a paranoid or overprotective way. I’m working on being okay with the ‘you having friends’ thing. I’m good with that. There’s just something about her. Something that doesn’t sit right. And you've always said I have good instincts.”

“Very good instincts. Amazing instincts, actually.”

“Well they’re telling me that there’s something not right with her. That she’s not who she says she is. Who you think she is. Even Millie said she doesn’t trust her.”

“Well in all fairness, Millie is five and hates anyone who doesn’t put pineapple on pizza or who eats steak cooked past medium rare.”

“I just want you to be careful. I’m not saying don’t talk to her or don’t hang out with her. ‘Cause I get that you need friends. Just be careful around her. Don’t get too close, don’t say too much. That’s all I ask.”

“Okay,” she says, a smile on her face as she pats his stomach and kisses his shoulder. “See how agreeable I can be when you don’t freak out and we actually talk about things?”

“You are less of a bitch.”

“You know, you start out so well and you always manage to end so badly.”

“Kind of like everything in my life.”

She frowns. “That is not what I meant and you know it. I meant it as a joke. I was teasing you.” She tousles his hair, then runs her fingers through it. Loving the messy ‘bed head’ look it so easily takes on. “Are you alright? You’re not…?”

“Thinking about getting drunk and high? No. I’m not. I honestly haven’t thought about that since this morning. I don’t think about it all the time. It’s not every day, twenty four hours a day. Just when shit happens.”

“Like Ovi wanting help,” she concludes. “And your dad. And the nightmares.”

Tyler nods.

“I mean I get it. I do. I don’t know exactly what you’re feeling or what’s going on in your head, but I know you struggle. I know you’ve got a lot on your plate and a lot of things inside of you that are weighing you down. And I know the kind of life you’ve lived. The things you’ve seen and the things you’ve had to do. That would mess anyone up.”

It’s been a lifetime of turmoil. An abusive childhood, the death of his mother at a young age, a tumultuous marriage right out of high school, and the death of his first child. And he’d spent years devoting himself to the military and then to the job. Never taking time to truly rest and worry about himself.

“I don’t want you to think less of me,” he says. “I don't want you being disgusted or disappointed or…”

“Okay, first off,” Esme interjects. “I won't let you talk about yourself like that. Because none of that is true. I’m not disappointed or disgusted. Not in the slightest. And I could never think less of you. Because I know what kind of man you are and I know you’re strong and resilient and you’re loyal and protective and all those amazing things that make you, you. I mean, yeah, I won’t lie; there’s some things about you that drive me batshit insane.”

Tyler smirks.

“But it’s stupid shit like your snoring and how cold your feet are and you have the nerve to put them against me in bed. Or how you refuse to separate laundry before putting it in the machine and we’ve had to throw out so many clothes. Or how our last Christmas in Colorado you actually used a staple gun to put the lights on the house.”

“Don’t hold back baby,” he grins. “Tell me how you really feel.”

“But it’s dumb stuff like that. It’s the little things that drive me nuts but don’t make me love you any less. And I bet you have a whole list of things that drive you crazy when it comes to me.”

“It’s not actually a list, but…”

“But they’re still things that drive you nuts, right? Do they make you love me any less? Even the more serious things. Are they horrible enough to make you think less of me?”

“Of course not.”

“Well then why would I think that way about you? You’re not a terrible person because you’ve got issues. It’s not like you were a mean or an abusive drunk. That would have been a lot worse.”

“You would have totally kicked my ass if I ever got like that.”

“I would have given you the ass kicking of a lifetime. And then I would have taken your kids and left and I would have made sure you never found out. And that would have hurt you a lot more than anything physical I could have done.”

It’s the harsh and honest truth. As much as she wants him around, she would be more than capable of surviving without him. Of taking the kids and giving them a good life; somewhere safe and happy, away from the turmoil and heartache that booze and drugs would cause. And he wouldn’t blame her if she did leave. If that six month separation had taught him anything, it’s that she’s a hell of a lot stronger than anyone...even him...gives her credit for.

“If you go back to that...the booze...the meds...especially the meds..I can’t stay with you, Tyler. I can’t. Not because I don’t love you. Because I do. With everything I am and everything I have. But I love my children more and I won’t let them grow up like that. I refuse to let them go through that. I can live with going back to the job, but if you go back to the way you were when we met...if Oxy comes into this house or I find you’re sneaking off and doing it somewhere else...we’re done. I’ll walk out of here and I will take those kids and I won’t look back. And I know you don’t want that.”

“I don’t want that.”

Emotion chokes at him; tears filling his eyes as he looks down at the baby sleeping soundly against him. So tiny and so perfect. Everything that’s beautiful and good about the two of them existing in those six pounds and fifteen inches. Five times he’d experienced this; the joy and the profound love that comes with being a dad. And six months away from his kid had felt like a lifetime and had nearly destroyed him.

“You could survive without me,” she says. “But I know you wouldn’t survive long without them.”

“I don’t want to live without any of you,” he tells her. “We’re in this together. The second we found out about Millie and when we decided to get married. I don’t want to lose them and I don’t want to lose you either.”

“But you will. If you go back to the way you were.  The booze, the Oxy, the death wish. If you go back to that, we are not going to make it. Because I need to think about those kids first. I won’t let them grow up like that and you shouldn’t want them to either.”

“I don’t. I don’t want that. I don’t want to be that person again.”

“I can handle the job. If you decide you want to go back, I can accept it and we can live like that. That won’t kill us. But the rest will. And I don’t want that.  I don’t want to have to walk away. Because I love you. More than I ever thought I could love someone, especially after Mark. I’d rather live with you than without you.”

“Even with the snoring and the cold feet?” he teases.

“I just tell you to put on socks or to roll over and be quiet. Sometimes I plug your nose until you can't breathe and you wake up.”

“So you are homicidal.”

“I’m not trying to kill you. I’m trying to wake you up and to stop your snoring. Now if I covered your nose and your mouth, you might have a valid concern.”

Tyler smirks.

She tightens the hold on his hair, then presses his lips to his temple, followed by his ear, then down to his cheek. Lips warms and feathery as they travel along his jaw as she speaks. “You are the strongest person I know. That I’ve ever known. And I need you to fight this. Harder than you’ve ever fought anything else. Even after Dhaka. Because you have little humans that love you and adore you and would miss you so much. If you can’t do it for myself or for me, do it for them. I mean look at her…” she reaches across to him to run a palm over Addie’s head; the dark hair soft against her skin. “...look how beautiful she is. How perfect she is. You did this. You helped make this. Something so amazing. Why would you not want to fight?”

“It’s not that I don’t want to. I just don’t know I have anything left to fight it.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it. You don’t give up. You’re not a quitter. Maybe before we met and you felt like you had nothing to lose and thought you deserved to die. But now you have everything to live for. So if you think I’m just going to sit back and let you...of all people...just give up, you have another thing coming. So stop,” she kisses his cheek. “Stop your shit and get it together and fight this thing. Promise me, Tyler. That you’re not going to give in to this.”

“I’m not going to give in,” he assures her. “I don’t want to lose you or my kids. That would kill me quicker than anything else ever could.”

“See , now THIS is when being ferociously stubborn is a good thing,” her face and voice seem brighter. “And isn’t she something else?” She traces the outer edge of Addie’s ear with her fingertip. “She’s just so tiny and so perfect and so amazing.”

“And beautiful,” he adds. “Just like her mom. We did good, yeah?”

“We did. Five times. It’s surreal, isn’t it? If you think about where you were seven years ago compared to now.”

“I don’t even want to think about where I was seven years go. I mean, other than when you walked into my place looking all cute and shit in your little shorts and your tank top.”

“I still can’t believe you remember what I was wearing. It’s not like it was anything spectacular. Not like Nik and her blouse cut down to her belly button nearly.”

“I never paid attention to what she was wearing. I was too busy looking at your ass in those shorts.”

She laughs. “You were honestly checking out my ass?”

“And other things,” he admits. “I’m a guy. I’m gonna look. Especially when fresh meat walks through the door.”

“Fresh meat? Really? That’s what you thought of me?”

“I don’t mean it in that way. I didn’t know who you were; I’d never seen you before. And you just show up out of the blue and walk in looking like that? Yeah, I checked you out.”

“You were very sly about it because I thought you hated me.”

“I didn’t hate you. I was nice to you.”

“That was nice? That was you being nice?”

“Okay, so maybe you annoyed me a little.”

“I annoyed you now?” she laughs. “How did I annoy you? I barely spoke to you or looked at you.”

“I didn’t like that Nik just showed up like that and brought someone with her. And it threw me off that you looked like you did and your ass looked like it did. And I hadn’t had sex in like four months, so…”

“That’s what it was! I annoyed you because you were sexually frustrated.”

“Pretty much,” Tyler nods.  “And you were wearing those shorts and that strap of your tank top kept falling down. I kept wanting to push it back up but Nik was there and that would have been really awkward if I’d kicked her out and made her wait while I banged you.”

“Awfully bold of you to assume I would have succumbed to your advances.”

A sly grin spreads across his face. “You so would have.”

“Actually, yeah. I would have,” she agrees, and then bursts out laughing and drops her forehead onto his shoulder. “You’re a bad influence! You and your blue eyes and your stupidly handsome face. For what it’s worth, you sort of annoyed me too.”

“How? I behaved myself.”

“You did. But I was annoyed at how ridiculously good looking you were. I’ve seen a lot of mercenaries, but I’d never seen one that looked like that.”

“So you were checking me out too.”

“Of course I was. I’m not blind. I know a good thing when I see it.”  She jumps off the couch and heads for the kitchen, returning with a carton of ice cream and two spoons. “I mean, you were all tall and big arms and broad shoulders and the pure definition of walking sex. And the voice…” she drops down beside him once more, handing him a spoon and pulling off the lid on the ice cream. “...that would have sealed the deal. If you had said drop your pants, I would have done it, no questions asked.”

“Talk about a wasted opportunity.”

“Well we made up for it over the course of five days,” she reasons. “I couldn’t give it up in the first ten minutes. I already looked like a big enough slut after knowing you for three days.”

“For the record, I never thought you were a slut.”

“That’s reassuring. I thought you were one, so…”

He frowns. “That’s not nice.”

“A guy doesn’t look like you and not get laid a lot. I’m just saying. And the things you knew how to do and how well you did them? Yeah. I knew you were a player.”

“Yeah? Well for someone who claims to have only been with three guys including me, you knew a little too much and were a little too willing to let me do certain things.”

“You’re going to complain about it seven years later? Really?”

“I’m not complaining. I’m just saying how it seemed.”

“Well you spend four years never having an orgasm other than the ones you give yourself, then let’s see how you feel when someone comes along and gives you multiple.  I have to say, you were on the ball that night.”

“I wanted you to keep coming back for more so I had to make a good first impression.”

“Oh believe me. You did. Because here I am, seven years later, looking like a hot mess after having five kids, and still putting out.”

“You’re beautiful. Always have been. Always will be.”

She arches an eyebrow. “Even after that many kids?”

He gives her a wink and leans in to kiss her. “Especially after that many kids.”

****

He groans as he stands; a grimace on his face and limp more pronounced as he carries Addie to her playpen; gently placing her inside and then tightly tucking a blanket around her.

“You okay?” Esme asks, as he returns to the couch, sitting down beside her once more. “You haven’t limped that bad in a long time.”

“I’m just stiff as hell,” he assures, then frowns as he reaches for one of the spoons. “Are you trying to make me fat?”

“You’re in a bulk. Ice cream will help you do that. Although I should be getting you fat. So then I don’t have to worry about all those thirsty teachers and playground moms.”

“You already don’t have to worry about them. Besides, you should be more concerned about the neighbor.”

Esme grins. “She thinks you’re a snack.”

“A snack? Fuck her. I’m the whole goddamn buffet.”

“Plus extra dessert. And those warm lemon smelling face cloths some places give you.”

Tyler grins. “I think that’s honestly the best and the weirdest compliment anyone has ever given me. Just so you know, you’re the whole dessert section of the buffet. Plus extra chocolate sauce and sprinkles.”

“You keep sweet talking me like that and I may just jump you right here.”

“Yeah? You promise?”

“We’ll see…” she singsongs, and they lapse into a companionable silence as they dig into the ice cream. Listening to Addie’s soft breathing and the sounds of the nocturnal wildlife that lingers on their property.

“So…” he breaks the silence. “...I was thinking.”

“Uh oh. I don’t know if I like the way you said that.”

“About what you said today. About the job. How you’d be okay with me going back.”

Both eyebrows arch as she regards him.

“I just want you to hear me out, okay? Just listen to what I have to say before saying anything back or freaking out on me. Can you do that?”

Esme nods.

“I have an idea. Actually, it was Ovi’s idea first but I tweaked it and made it make more sense. More beneficial. For me. For us. As a family.”

“Alright,” she swallows some ice cream and helps herself to another spoonful.

“What if I started my own operation? If I got my own group of guys together and made up a  team and got the word out that we’re available and looking for work? What if I was the boss. The Nik of things, so to speak.”

“Where would you find the guys?”

“It’s been almost seven years since Dhaka but my name still has a lot of pull. I let people know I’m looking for mercs, there won’t be a shortage of interested people. And I have a few that have been itching get back into it  and would jump at the chance.  Remember Nathan?”

“The marine from New Zealand?”

“He’s been wanting to break away from Nik for a while. Says she’s losing her touch and things are going to shit.  He’s put his name out there but has gotten a lot of interest.”

“What are his numbers like?”

“Decent. Got a good kill record. Not that that means everything when it comes to the job. But he hasn’t gotten seriously hurt, hasn’t gotten a client or a teammate killed, or royally fucked up.”

“So he’d be one to take a chance on.”

Tyler nods.

“Who else?”

“Just guys I’ve worked with before. That I know work hard and I can trust. Nik won’t be happy though.”

“Because you’re getting into it and getting a piece of that pie?”

“That and I’d be pinching some of her guys. And she knows if people know it’s my operation, we’ll start pulling all the big jobs. Word travels fast in the game and if surviving Dhaka did anything…”

“It boosted your reputation,” she concludes. “Big time. People will be shocked. If you decide to get back in it. Especially if you get back in as a boss. Is that really something you want to do? Or would you rather be right in it getting your own hands dirty?”

“I’d rather come home to my family. And there’s a way better chance of that if I just run things. I mean, I’d have to go where the jobs are, but I wouldn’t have to go out right out in the field. I’d just stay behind and run shit.”

“Hmm…” Esme taps the bowl of her spoon against her lips as she considers his word.

“What are you thinking?” Tyler asks. “And be honest. Don’t just say that you think I want to hear.”

“Well, first, I think it’s a huge step for you.”

“In a good way, or…”

“Of course in a good way. In a very good way. You have the experience. You know how you want things done and you know how you want guys to be. And you know they’ll work for you and that they’ll work well.”

“But…”

“Actually, there is no but. Not that I can think of. And I already told you that I was okay with you going back. Even when it was just the thought of you back out in the field. Could you run things from home? Until there’s a job and you have to go wherever?”

“Baby, in this day and age and with the technology out there? I could run things while taking a shit.”

“And it’s something you’d be happy with?”

“I think so. I think it would stop me from missing the job. I’d still be in life, but not actually in it. I would be a hell of a lot safer, that’s for sure.”

“I know I’d feel better about it,” she admits.

“It would take a bit. To get everything off the ground. I might need your help.”

Her eyes widen.

“Just with intel stuff and getting the word out. Nothing serious.”

“I am not getting involved like I did in Ireland.”

“I wouldn't want you to. Strictly behind the scenes. I promise.”

She sighs. “I suppose I could help with that. What’s in it for me? What kind of payout do I get?”

He grins. “My undying love and loyalty?”

“I already have that. Next.”

“Lots of dick?” he tries again.

“I already get that.”

He shrugs. “I don’t know then. What do you want?”

“I want to go away. Just the two of us. For a couple days. Three at the most.”

“Okay,” Tyler agrees. “Where?”

“I want to go to Kimberley.”

He cocks an eyebrow. “Why the hell would you want to go there?”

“I want you to call Koen and tell him we want to stay at the shack. That we’ll pay for him to stay somewhere else for two or three days. I want to go hiking and I want to camp for a night at that gorge you told me about. Where you jumped off the cliff and scared the shit out of Rata.”

“That’s all you want?”

Esme nods.

“Really? You don’t want flowers or expensive jewellery or…”

“I don’t want those things. I want to go away. With you. Just the two of us. And that’s where I want to go. Can you make it happen?”

He gives a confident smile. “Consider it done.”

[onyour-right]

Dickkory - A hidden scene fic

Okay, so this has been in my mind since episode 7 aired. Dick and Kory finally having that much needed chat. (Which isn’t to say everything is automatically resolved, BUT it’s a good stepping stone towards where they need to be at). 

As always, please like/reblog/comment if you enjoyed. Reading reviews honestly motivates me to write more and it’s good to read constructive feedback. Any grammatical errors or spelling mistakes are my own. 

Word count: 2,195

---

Later that evening when everyone retreats back to their rooms, Dick finds himself going back up to the roof, sitting down on the ledge that Jason was contemplating taking his own life from just a few hours ago. The memory makes him frown, makes an icy cold feeling of dread wash over him as he tries to imagine what would have happened if he’d been a minute too late, or two, or five. He never thought that things with Jason would ever, could ever get to the point it had; sure, he knows that the kid is troubled, that he – like everyone else – has his own demons to battle with, but he hadn’t just been troubled up on that ledge he had been completely and utterly broken, hopeless.

It was deeply unsettling how much Jason had reminded Dick of himself in that moment, of how it’s been for him ever since Deathstroke made his reappearance and forced him to relive his past failures. Trapped between the sins of the past and the sins of the present, one foot hanging precariously off the edge and one foot firm on solid ground. Suicide by what? Some misguided notion of martyrdom. As if it would somehow make up for all his wrongdoings, his regret, if he lost his life by stopping Slade once and for all.  

He can never make it right though, not really. His bad choices are stuck to him, stuck close as a shadow to a body. They’re in every breath that he breathes and every decision that he makes, they’re in every step that he takes and the way he carries himself. Dick knows this, has accepted it, and yet…

Earlier on it had felt somewhat liberating, confessing his deepest shame to Jason. Like a weight – albeit small – had been lifted from his shoulders and he could breathe a little easier, move a little freer. Even when the boy had stared at him wide-eyed, an expression on his face that Dick hadn’t known how to read, and had not been fully sure what to say so had remained silent, it still felt… good.

Now he just has to tell the others.  It’s not going to go well, he’s accepted that, there’ll probably be raised voices, angry and disappointed words hissed at him, maybe some relationships being done with for good. But he just hopes that she won’t, that Kory won’t.

Just then the sound of footsteps approaching from behind pull Dick out of his thoughts, and he knows instantly who it is by the enticingly familiar scent that invades his senses: ambery warm and spicy. He can feel it in the way the tenseness of his muscles instinctively loosen up, a reaction to her physical presence that he’s powerless to control. It’s as if he’s managed to conjure her up just by thinking of her. Not a terrible power to have, he thinks.

Kory reaches him and, much to his surprise and amusement, is carrying two half-filled glasses of what looks to be tequila in her hands. His mind drifts back to another time – her lips on his, their bodies flush against each other, his body aching with want of her - and he tries to school his face into a neutral expression.  

Her brown eyes study him intently as she reaches one to him in offering, her lips quirking up into a slight but genuine smile as she asks softly, “You want some company?”  

“I’d never refuse yours,” he replies, meeting her gaze and holding it for a minute longer after he takes the glass from her grip.

Kory lets out an amused, maybe also pleased, chuckle and rests a gentle hand on his shoulder as she swings a leg over the ledge to sit down next to him. The simple action makes Dick’s lips twitch into a faint smile, makes him a little warmer even though the night air is cold. He knows that Kory has near perfect balance, she could have easily sat without having to touch him, so the fact that she did isn’t lost to him.  It means that even though things between them aren’t where they should be, where he wants them to be and hopes she does too, at the very least she still seeks out his touch.

Comfortable silence falls over the two of them as they take in the nightly sights ahead, occasionally knocking back some of the alcoholic liquid then wincing at the bitter sharpness. It’s one reason why Dick relishes being in Kory’s presence so much; she appreciates the quiet moments without feeling pressure to break it unnecessarily, she doesn’t push him to talk until he’s ready to.

He thinks he’s ready.

“I should have called you,” he admits, voice soft and eyes focused on a building in-front of him, his thumb lightly tapping against his glass.  

Kory turns to him, a single brow arched as she regards him patiently, allowing him the space to get what he needs to say off his chest.

“I wanted to, but I thought you needed space to figure things out. I didn’t want to -” he pauses, a sigh falling from his mouth as he tries to find the right words that will make her understand, “I didn’t want to be selfish with you.”

Her following silence makes something ugly twist in Dick’s stomach, it makes him look away from the building and into the brown pools of her eyes to see if he can see what she’s feeling. After a moment of staring at each other, Kory speaks.

“Selfish is the last thing I’d call you, Dick Grayson. I mean I get it, but it would have been nice.”

She doesn’t sound angry or even judgemental, she never does, but there’s an element to her tone that makes him feel out of place. He doesn’t know what it is or how to really explain it, all he knows is that it’s a feeling that he doesn’t like. Dick opens his mouth to say something, an apology would be a good start, but Kory must realise because she swiftly cuts him off before the words can leave his mouth.

“I could have called too, so I guess we both thought we were doing what was best for each other.”

Dick hums in agreement, but now he’s just a little bit curious. “Why didn’t you call?”

Kory looks at him for a long moment, like she’s weighing up whether what she’s about to say will be taken the wrong way or not. “I knew you’d be busy with the kids and that you probably wouldn’t have any time for me, so I didn’t want to bother you.”

He narrows his eyes, a frown starting on his face again; he can feel himself growing defensive even though at the back of his mind he knows that her reasoning for not calling hadn’t been wrong. “You wouldn’t have. I could have, I would have tried to -” he starts but soon trails off, unsure of what it is he’s trying to say in the first place.

“I didn’t want you to have to try to do anything, Dick.”

He understands, he really does. One bittersweet thing about Kory, he’s beginning to find, is that her words are always clear in their honesty, never half-truths or attempts to sugar coat anything because it’s what she thinks you might want to hear. On one hand it means there’s no room for misunderstanding, or at the very least if there is a misunderstanding it’s by choice; it also means, however, that the unintentionality of her words stinging, often times makes the sting worse.

This time the silence that settles over them is slightly less comfortable, it’s tense with everything that’s being spoken without being vocalised. Thankfully after a while Kory breaks it, and although he’s grateful he finds himself wary about the topic they’re on the brinks of discussing.

“So Deathstroke really has all of you rattled, huh.”

An understatement, he thinks with a bitter laugh. He downs the rest of the alcohol in his glass, liquid courage and all that, before placing it to the side of him. He runs his fingers nervously through his hair, sneaking a quick glance at Kory who’s watching him ever patiently. Exhaling a shaky breath, he finally opens his mouth and tells her the truth.  

How Deathstroke had killed Garth on his birthday and left the team feeling vengeful and devastated, how in response Dick had tracked down his son and gotten close to him, had made him believe that they were genuinely friends only to lead him right into the palms of his father – like the proverbial lamb to the slaughter. He tells her how Jericho had taken the killing blow that was aimed for him, how the others had left him after they found out he’d died, how it had broken him more than he thought it would, and how it was because of that that he was reluctant to reveal what had happened out of fear everyone would leave again.

After Dick is done he can’t quite find it in himself to meet her gaze, which he’s sure is going to be filled with disgust, and so he looks away. His body tensing up in preparation for whatever might come next.

When nothing comes next, or at least not immediately, he allows himself to turn back to her. Kory doesn’t say anything for a good while after he finishes, but her facial expression tells him enough about her reaction to what he’s just said; the sadness flashing transparently in her eyes, the distressed furrowing of her brows, her mouth that’s down-turned in a slight frown. She’s looking at him with something akin to understanding, like everyone’s behaviour suddenly makes sense to her now: the weird tension between him and the others, why he was so quick to trade himself for Jason, why he didn’t ask her for help when he knew she would have it given freely. It’s a terrifying rush being seen, being understood, it’s certainly not a feeling that Dick is used to.

Her hand suddenly reaches up and cups the side of his face, her thumb gently wiping away the tears that he hadn’t even realised had fallen. Dick thinks he should probably feel embarrassed, being so vulnerable like this, but he can’t quite muster up the energy to care.

“His death wasn’t your fault,” she murmurs, gentle but firm, unwavering in her faith of him.

He shakes his head vehemently, the tears flowing with more ease now. It’s as if now that he’s started he can’t seem to stop. Maybe he doesn’t even want to. “I killed him, Kory,” he says, his voice so painfully close to breaking off.

“Listen to me, Dick Grayson,” and she puts her unfinished drink to one side, freeing her other hand to cup the other side of Dick’s face. “Did you use Jericho? Yes. Was it wrong? Of course. But did you kill him, were you responsible for his death? No. It’s fucked up how it all went down, it’s really fucked up. But if Dawn, Hank and Donna somehow made you feel like it was all your fault, like they didn’t play a role in it, if they can look down on you for it then y’know what, fuck them and you’re better off without them.”

Dick stares at her with wide eyes, shocked at the venom laced in her tone. He can’t remember a time when he’s heard such bitterness come from her; he’s not going to waste time lying by saying that it isn’t touching, that hearing Kory defending him isn’t everything to him, but he can’t help but doubt whether he’s deserving of her protectiveness.  

“Kory,” he tries, but the argument dies on his tongue at the look she sends him.

“Dick, you cared for that boy. You feel guilty because you think that if you hadn’t brought him in then Slade wouldn’t have found him, that he wouldn’t have died. But there’s no use blaming yourself for what you didn’t do, or thinking about what ifs; it happened, it was horrible, but you can’t let it have so much power over you, you have to find a way to move on.”

She’s right, he knows she is, and if he looks deep inside himself he’ll find that he’s always known it. But he’s spent so long carrying this baggage that to suddenly let go of it terrifies him, it overwhelms him because he doesn’t know where the fuck to even begin unloading at, all he knows right now is that he’s exhausted from all this.

“Kory,” he whispers reverently this time, his eyes searching for an answer that he finds in her gaze. He inches forward and rests his forehead gently against hers, both their eyes falling shut as they relish in this unexplored area of intimacy between them, their mouths inches apart and breaths intermingling in an even and soothing rhythm.

Dick doesn’t know where to start, but if he’s learnt anything at all it’s that the only way out is through, and so he’ll endure.

// end

[signoraviolettavalery]

Several months late, I’ve finally put together my meta trying to make sense of why Michael went to Maria when it’s pretty damn clear that he loves Alex. It’s literally and explicitly text: “I love him. I probably always will.” And yet, right after saying that, he goes straight to Maria, and I’m gonna suggest that – spoiler alert – he goes to Maria precisely because he doesn’t love her.

(As a side note, this is mostly a Malex meta written from Michael’s POV, and from his perspective, Alex’s behavior doesn’t appear in the best light. This isn’t an attempt to hate on Alex, or to pit them against each other, but rather, to try to get into Michael’s headspace).

None of the gifs are mine, but all have been credited to their creators. If you’d rather your gifs not appear in this meta, let me know. 

The tragedy of Malex is that they love so differently, even though the depth of that love is profound and unfathomable in both of them.

Michael loves baring his soul and handing his heart out on a platter. He will give whatever the person he loves ask for, with no second thought, no expectation of reciprocity. Alex asks, and Michael bares his soul (“I never look away.”) Alex demands all of Michael’s deepest secrets after ending everything between them – and Michael gives them without hesitation. He tells Alex about his childhood, shows him the spaceship that he’s shown no one else, and literally tells Alex “if anyone’s going to destroy me, might as well be you.”

Meanwhile, Alex loves by building up walls. The last time he allowed himself to be with Michael, he (believes he) destroyed his life. So Alex leaves to protect Michael (first to the Air Force, because he wants to learn to fight his own battles, then at the drive-in). He pushes him away to keep him safe, even though it’s the last thing he wants. He puts on a mask of cold nonchalance (hiding behind his military uniform in 1x01, “the world ends with a whimper” in 1x09) so no one can see how much he cares and use it against Michael. He blackmails his father out of the country and doesn’t even tell Michael about it.

They’re like ships passing in the night, both loving the other with their complete and entire being but utterly incapable of expressing it in ways the other will understand.

Michael wants to be with Alex, the man he loves more than anything in the world, his cosmic connection, his soulmate, and he would give anything for them to be together. Alex is his peace and his home. Alex gave him a home when he had none. Alex made Michael believe there’s a place for him here. (1x11). Alex gave him quiet (in the form of a guitar). Alex called him family. And the only moments we see Michael really, truly happy and at peace in the present day are the moments with Alex: at the reunion kiss (where he’s literally described as “at peace” in the script) and in the morning after when he realizes Alex stayed.

gif: rawandmessyandbeautiful

But, because Alex expresses his love so differently, Michael has come to believe, by the end of the season, that he can never have that. He doesn’t believe he can ever have Alex and the happiness that Alex brings him, and in retrospect, this realization was a long time coming -– probably since episode 9. That’s where we get “the world ends with a whimper, Guerin.” And this was a new and devastating kind of pain, because it broke the holding pattern. Up until now, it seems like Alex has been walking away, only to walk back (“you always find a reason to walk away” – which implies it happened multiple times, which means that Alex came back, only to walk away again). But this is Alex talking him that they’re completely over, after which Michael hooks up with Maria out of pure devastation, and it feels like he’s trying to take the first step to getting over a love he doesn’t think he can ever be with.

Then Alex tells him he wants to “start over” – which implies ending what they had before, whatever relationship they had, to start something new. And then he says he wants to be friends. After which, he asks for all of Michael’s secrets – and then leaves.

The next episode (1x11), we see Michael saying to Maria “It’s over. It’s been over.” He might be reassuring Maria, but this is something he truly believes, because Alex told him “sometimes the world ends with a whimper” and never took it back. In fact, he emphasized it by saying “I want to start over” (again, implying the end of whatever came previously). He said he’s tired of walking away, but then did something that looked exactly like walking away as soon as he saw Michael’s spaceship.

Practically the next day (within the story timeline), we get the 1x12 scene in Caulfield. The one in which Alex is willing to stay by Michael’s side and die with him. But here’s the thing (and I say this with all the love and compassion for Alex): dying with someone is not the same as living with and for them. I don’t think Michael’s ever doubted that Alex would be willing to die for him, because Alex is too brave and too loyal for his own good. Not only is he a decorated soldier who went to war and looked death in the face (and lost a part of himself, physically and emotionally), but Alex is also the boy who, at seventeen, placed himself between Michael and Jesse. Who, in that toolshed, deliberately drew the anger of his abuser onto himself in an attempt to protect the boy he loved. That’s why Michael was trying to get Alex to leave so desperately, pulling out all the tricks in his arsenal (“you gotta go,” “I don’t love you”). Because he knew that Alex wouldn’t leave him behind.

And not only is the idea of Alex dying because of him the worst thing he could possibly imagine (a fact that much better metas have addressed), but it also doesn’t actually mean Alex is willing to stay. It must absolutely wreck Michael that Alex is willing to die with him, but is unwilling to live and be with him, to let other people know about them, to do the hard work of building a relationship.

So, in the finale, when Alex comes to his trailer and says “I shouldn’t have left you behind when I enlisted,” Michael doesn’t believe that this time will be any different. We as an audience know how much Alex has grown this season, but Michael hasn’t. All Michael knows is the same pattern: one in which every moment of pure bliss with Alex must be paid for with excruciating pain.

This has been the case throughout the season: every time Alex is there, making him happy, comes at the cost of ripping out a piece of his heart, and every time, Michael does it, without question.

It starts in 1x02, when Michael bares his soul and tells Alex “I never look away.” He is raw and open and vulnerable, because the guy who puts up walls and hides behind a façade of “macho cowboy swagger” will hand his heart over on a platter the second Alex asks:

gif: alexmanes

His reward is that beautiful morning waking up together, those few stolen days of happiness with Alex, hidden in an airstream. But then Alex doesn’t want anyone to know about them, even Isobel, wants to keep their relationship hidden and secret, and it hurts Michael, but he accepts it without argument.

Alex asks for a drive-in date without an apology, without a word about what happened that morning, and Michael agrees immediately and without protest:

gif: rawandmessyandbeautiful

Alex calls him a criminal, tells him “the world ends with a whimper,” then demands all of Michael’s deepest secrets, and Michael gives them. Not only does he tell Alex everything, he is happy to do it. His smile is pure and unadulterated, and he will forgive everything Alex has said and done up until now if that is the price of Alex being there and caring about him. He even gives Alex the means to destroy him, both practically (through his secrets) and emotionally (by baring his soul yet again), and then Alex walks away. Again. (We as an audience know why, but for Michael, this looks like the same pattern).

This is the kind of tradeoff Michael feels like he’s been making for ten years: exchanging the hurt and the pain for the moments he gets to have Alex. Alex always finds a reason to walk away, to build up walls, to hurt him, and Michael will forgive anything and everything if he just gets to have Alex back again. The moments of peace and happiness with Alex are worth whatever pain comes before or after.

But by the end of the season, Michael no longer has the strength to make that tradeoff. Alex has the capacity to give him peace and happiness, but Michael has stopped believing that he ever actually will. He doesn’t think Alex will ever truly stay, and the cost of the stolen moments of peace with Alex is just too high when he’s already raw and hurting from Caulfield, from his mother’s death, from Noah, from nearly losing Isobel (and, quite soon, from Max’s death as well).

In short, Michael can’t handle being with Alex right now precisely because of how much he loves him. Because that means that Alex can destroy him, and right now, he quite literally wouldn’t survive it if Alex inevitably walks away again.  So he goes to Maria, whom he likes, and whom he cares about (and Michael is, at heart, a caretaker, as we’ve seen) but who cannot destroy him the way Alex can, because he does not love her the way he loves Alex. If she walks away, it will hurt, but it will not devastate him the way it does when Alex leaves. If she dies, he will be upset, and angry, but it will not feel like losing part of his soul.

But she’s also not Alex, and she never will be, and he will never actually be truly happy with her. He won’t find peace of the kind he finds with Alex. If the relationship functions at all, he will have a facsimile of it, a simulacrum. He will be content, playing the part of a devoted boyfriend. But he will never find that cosmic connection. That also means that he will not have to deal with the same level of pain and vulnerability. He will have less – both of happiness and peace, but also of pain.

Right now, that seems like a good decision to him. But in the long run, Michael leads with his heart, not his head. He’s a romantic, and he’ll want more.

[deliciousscaloppine]

Unclean Realm

I said I was going to write some nieyao, but my hand slipped and wrote some xiyao instead. It’s in Meng Yao’s pov, when he got kicked out of Qinghe, how he met Lan Xichen, and what he did to save him. You can find all the other ficlets from the same cycle here- though they are in Huaisang’s pov.

He had always expected this moment. The moment he leaves Unclean Realm for good. In fact it was an inevitable, fated thing waiting to happen for years. If anything he was lucky it had lasted this long. He takes his time walking away, and not just because there's a stab wound somewhere in his chest. It's that secretly he waits for someone to call him back, inconceivable as that is.

 When no one comes, he begins walking faster. There are a lot of men that actively disliked him. Without Mingjue's protection they might come after him and Meng Yao is not ready to die yet. He makes it deep into the woodland. His first stop is going to be the workshop of a silversmith that is nearby. He will trade his silver hair piece for some old clothes and a bag of rice. 

He could get a better price for it at a jeweler in some city, but maybe he has been declared a fugitive and it could give him away. At least with the silversmith, out here in the country, he can always claim he was robbed and that's the only thing he could hide from the robbers.

He doesn't head there immediately. It would be best to arrive closer at midnight. This way his story could be more convincing. As night falls, he makes a small fire and waits. Inevitably he starts thinking about Nie Mingjue. He really did drive him away. He didn't kill him, or put him in a cell. He even let him leave like this with a wound untreated. He really just said “Go die somewhere else out of my sight”. 

Nothing of the things they did, the things that made him happy really mattered. And why should they, really? It's not like he didn't know these comforts were utterly meaningless. If he fell like that for Nie Mingjue, then his mother's life had really taught him nothing. 

At that thought he laughs. Hadn't his mother always placed her love and trust to man who couldn't care less? Didn't he just do the same? He remembers his father crashing the pearl button in his hands, like the cheap, meaningless thing it was. And then he recalls the many men who had visited his mother. When she got sick, who concerned himself with her health?

When she died who attended her funeral? If it hadn't been for him, her son, she would have died completely alone. Completely uncared for. His mother had been fortunate in her misfortune to have him at least, to care and love her. And now without her, how meaningless it all was. He thought living at the Unclean Realm with Nie Mingjue was finally something. But it had all been as frivolous and passing as a summer dream, much like the affairs of his mother.

“See, mother, I am really just like you.“ he smiles.

His wound hurts at these thoughts. It has swollen and opened up painfully. And then he remembers it was because Nie Mingjue kicked him there. And then he had the nerve to say he would spare him because Meng Yao had saved his life. Well, if he doesn't seek treatment soon, maybe he won't even survive the night. So he stands up and makes it uphill, where the workshop is. He is quite sad to have to distress the silversmith's household, but they are kind, common people.

They take him in and feed him, they give him medicine and clothes. The next day the silversmith examines the silver hair piece, admiring the intricate work. Meng Yao has to spend some time to convince him to melt it down. “It is an unfortunate object” he has to remind him. “I wore it and I got robbed, you should melt it down.”

They let him stay for a few days, to recover his strength. He has the time to wash and mend his clothes. At the next town he could sell the silk to some merchant. There is enough material to make something new out of it, and he needs the silver pieces to travel. Perhaps he is going to go to Gusu, to see if it really burned down. Such a thing seems so unreal to him. How could a mountainous stonghold fall like that? Is Lan Xichen Zewu Jun really out in the run?

                                                        .......

The Wen are progressing steadily through the land, could it be that they will win this war? And now Xue Yang is out, supposedly he has already made his way out to Lanling. Meng Yao had made the same journey some years ago with that pearl button and he got kicked down the stairs of Carp Tower. Xue Yang will go bearing the fabled final piece of the Yin Iron. Surely his welcome will be a warm one. Perhaps warm enough to make his return as well possible.

But he won't go there yet. He must give Xue Yang some time.

Walking through the land helps keep his mind clear. He enjoys that clarity that comes from walking. If he were to stand still he would probably die. Every night when he lies down to rest his mind flies back to Nie Mingjue, as if his thoughts are a bird and Nie Minjue is its nest. It does not surprise him that he misses him. He had gone to great lengths to keep him pleased all these years. And he had been happy too. But not happy enough to regret his actions. 

How wrought Mingjue had been with the captain's death! Meng Yao had never been as important as that man and he knew it. After all the captain had parents. Parents who had expectations. Parents who would seek justice for that child. Meng Yao had no one. To Nie Mingjue he was infinitely more dispensable than the man who bullied and harassed him. Their lives did not even have equal value. 

The funny thing is he always thought it would be the captain to drive him out one day. He spoke against him so publicly and so many times. Everyday felt like it would be his last. That's the day the army revolts and asks Mingjue to send me away, he thought. Nie Mingjue really never said anything to him. Meng Yao had to smile and accept the insults and try harder to do better.

He had to look at Mingjue's face everyday and smile to him and think of something extraordinary  to say or do, just to convince him that he had a place by his side. Everyday he thought this is the day I am not enough anymore. It's not like affection like this is not fickle. But in the end, the captain managed to drive him away. At least he paid for it with his death. A small pleasure.

When he arrives at Gusu, he is somewhat surprised by the destruction. The Wen really decimated the place. And now there are rumors about another massacre at Yunmeg. Their army is everywhere, always on the move, seeking for something that by now should be safe at Lanling. No one will suspect the Jin Clan for such a fine betrayal.

The devastation, however, breaks his heart. Cloud Recesses had been the most refined place he had ever been. It really seemed these rules they followed had some real meaning. 

He asks around seeking to learn the fate of the disciples. “They must all be dead” he hears people say. “And now the same at Yunmeg too. They even kill children.” Meng Yao refuses to believe they are all dead. If they are then the next calamity will hit Qinghe. He can't bear the thought of that even if he was driven out. Surely some must live. Zewu Jun at least survives.

Now that he is here, he can start looking. And it doesn't take long. Famous people are always easy to find. A handsome man defended a small village up a mountain path, he killed quite a few soldiers and had a jade flute with him. He wants to tell these people to stop spreading rumors. If the spies of the Wen hear them they will surely send someone important to decimate the place. And then Zewu Jun who has moved on won't be there to defend them. But it's not really his business so he moves on seeking the man with the jade flute.

You would think he'd make a better effort at hiding, but no. He moves visibly, making use of his connections in the region to stay here and there and replenish his strength. And that's how he is ambushed in a beautiful mansion- after all its residents are massacred. He puts quite the fight, the low level officials of the Wen are not even his match, but when the fight is over, Zichen does not move on. In fact he just stands there among the bodies seemingly thinking if there is a point in fleeing anymore. That's when Meng Yao has to appear.

His hands are trembling from the weight of the book he carries with him. It must be so difficult trying to protect something so meaningless in a war. So he takes it from his hands. He takes the sword too. 

“Lord Mingjue sent me to find you.” he lies and Xichen suddenly seems relieved. 

As if now someone else can take over. He leads them away, back to the decimated towns and villages of Gusu. “We'll head to Lanling” he says. “If we go through the burned towns and villages no one will notice us among the refugees. There you will meet with my father. If anyone could persuade him to rise against the Wen it's you. Lanling is probably the only place with enough wealth to support an army made from the other Clans.”

Lan Xichen is too stunned from his ordeal to offer his ideas. He listens silently, nodding his head. “That is the best course of action” he says.

They spend all the night fleeing. And come morning they rest at another smoking residence. In the light of day, these pilaged places look dreadful. And that's why no one will look for them here. He cooks rice in the courtyard from the dying embers of the place, letting Xichen rest by the fire. It's different killing people, it must be much harder for him than say kill a ghost. One has to think where it all went wrong, has to remember the faces and wonder what it means when he no longer can.

Rummaging through the ruins he finds a chest, a little burned at the edges, but it has some clothes inside. The hidden gold and jewels seem to have been taken by the soldiers who looted the place. All that's left is smashed porcelain and burnt books. This is a depressing place. But he gets to work. He digs a hole by the burnt plum tree to hide Xichen's treasures, the sword and the flute.

“We need to be less conspicuous” he advises. “We'll surely come across the Wen. Their army is everywhere.”

Then he takes the book, and with some effort, he removes the hard cover. Xichen watches, his eyes betraying some pain, but not once does he object. Meng Yao then wraps the pages tightly in some silk and hides the little parcel in his bag of rice. He doesn't need to look at Xichen's face to know he thinks that's brilliant. Then he offers Xichen the clothes he has found.

As Xichen dresses, he makes bandages from his fine clothes, to cover his face and arms. He makes some effort to soil them with soot and grime. If their circumstance was not so dire, he would laugh that the Clan Leader and he are playing such a game. It's funny to disguise as something you are not.

“This way you do not have to speak, and if I tell them you are sick with some disease they will be too afraid to come near you. Let me do all the talking. It's for the best.”

It's Xichen's idea that he should also have a walking stick, and maybe a hat with a veil. Meng Yao takes the silver piece from his head, and also the Lan ribbon. 

He has become so bold, he forgot to even ask. It must be so peculiar for a man of his stature to have a servant handle him like that. But Meng Yao also served Nie Mingjue. He made sure his belt was properly buckled, and his hairpiece secured. It's not that Nie Mingjue couldn't do these things for himself, it was that he liked being handled. Maybe Xichen is the same.

He folds the ribbon carefully, tying it between its ends. “If they search us it's best if they find it on me” he says and hides it by his breast. “But we'll have to find someone to melt this” he says holding the silver piece. “We'll need a lot of silver to go to Lanling. If anyone recognizes us, we'll have to bribe them to live.”

                                                        .....

Xichen doesn't speak often. His eloquence has dried from the brief brush he had with atrocity. In fact having someone lead him around, wash his clothes and cook his food was an unexpected respite from the burden of living. Meng Yao can't help but recall how pleasant it was living at Qinghe by Mingjue's side, when he didn't have to be a servant anymore. When others washed his clothes and made his food and all he had to do was be simply brilliant.

It brings to mind that time he traveled with Huaisang. Poor Huaisang at Qinghe, who always asked for more than Meng Yao could give. There were quite a few times when he could close his eyes and imagine that he had a brother. A little, defenseless brother that relied on Meng Yao to live. He can't tell Xichen this, but when he took from him Bieling and Shuoyue, he did it so that his life would be in his hands alone. It would shock Xichen to his core to know that his mind works this way.

That day in Cloud Recesses when they had smiled at each other, seems such a foreign feeling now. He asked himself many times from Gusu to Qinghe why had he smiled? Maybe the thought of being loved still had some meaning back then. 

Then maybe this is what this journey is. A respite from meaning. Drifting along a stranger again, doing things only family does. Maybe that's how he can keep on living. By pretending day and night to be something he is not. Sometimes he really looks at the reflection of his face on the water and thinks “I do not know this person.”

Well, just as he holds Xichen's life in his hands, maybe that's how Xichen holds the memory of his personhood. Maybe at the end of the journey Meng Yao can wring it out of his hands and back into himself. These thoughts make him smile a lot. Xichen says he has a pleasant face. 

“I feel safe with you” he whispers sometimes by the fire, as if making some meaningful confession.

“I will get you to Lanling, Clan leader Lan.” is his reply.

Xichen has more words the following days. Mostly of disbelief. “Why did you beg that shopkeeper to let you wash dishes? Didn't we have enough money to spare for a meal?”

These words bring even more smiles to his face. Xichen has never lived in the real world.

“And where did a sick man and his young brother find this much money?” he asks. “Anyone would think we are disguised lords hiding from the Wen. And maybe some would show sympathy, but others would betray us. They might send bandits after us, or kill us in our sleep. It's best to keep the money for transportation.”

Xichen admires these thoughts. They seem to him as precious as the commandments of the Lan. Perhaps a venerated opposite to them. Lie, cheat, gamble and pretend. 

Such a thought excites him so much that the next day when they happen upon a camp of the Wen he begs some of the soldiers there to let him wash their clothes for some of the game they hunted. Xichen must be so shocked with his audacity. There is one in particular who laughs at them, even strays as close to Xichen.

“My brother's disease is contagious” he says. “He is so very ugly. If you touch him you will become as ugly as him.”

The other soldiers laugh, but no one takes him up on his offer. So he gets on his hands and knees and begs with his forehead on the dust of the road.

“Please” he says. “We are so weak. I'll even carry water and cook for you.”

A man kicks him then. He kicks him hard on his shoulder. But Meng Yao does not waver. “Please” he says again, until one group calls them. They are sitting around a fire, oiling their swords- the swords they must have run through several people. They bring their clothes, they hand him their bamboo canisters. They look tired, they look exhausted, as if they too are fighting a war they do not understand.

“Can my brother sit by the fire? If you do not touch him, you will not get hurt by his disease” he says.

He can see it in their eyes that they are kind-hearted. They nod silently yes. Xichen later will admit his surprise.

 “Those people were with the Wen, but they treated us well.” 

How can he tell him that common people are just like that. Sure they can be petty and cruel like all the world is, but most times they are more generous and more kind than the mightiest lords.

They spend all day together. He brings them water, and twigs for the cooking fire, and he washes their clothes by the river, while the sun sets. A couple of them even wander close to him.

“You are so very handsome” they tell him. “How old are you?”

Meng Yao smiles. It's been a while since he has paid a meal with sexual favors. It seems so funny to him now to be asked such a thing.

“You and your brother can spend the night at our tent.” one of them offers. “It's warmer inside.”

Meng Yao smiles silently imagining what new shocks the Clan Leader of the Lan is discovering right now. The soldiers loiter on, looking at him, smiling. They have handsome faces. If the river was not so very cold they would have taken off their clothes and jumped in it just to get to him. He smiles back, shifting his eyes to better regard them. Really handsome faces.

“We do not have to spend the night here” Xichen says when they are gone. He sounds like he is struggling to speak.

“Why not? They will give us breakfast in the morning.”

There is something alluring about Xichen's sudden silence. Like he is pondering the logic of it. Or maybe it's a secret thrill. After all he has never lived in the real world. No one had told him how perfectly commonplace prostitution was.

“When you smile like that-” he says. “They must think you like them.”

“I don't” Meng Yao says. “But they will give us breakfast.”

“You've more than paid for it with all the clothes you've washed.”

Meng Yao has to sit by his side. The breeze is so very cold, and he is drenched in cold water. He would like to be warm. He would really like to be warm.

“You don't have to come by and see. I will come get you when it's over.” he hears himself say.

And after that night, he thinks he has traumatized Xichen enough. Even though he can't stop himself from smiling at the thought. When they make fire by the shore of a river- a boat will pick them up in the morning- Xichen finally takes off his disguise and breathes in the night air. He seems so very bewildered. Like as if he is at the end of his endurance. Meng Yao could go on forever like this.

“You even had to do things like that.” he mumbles at some point. Possibly referring to his past. 

Meng Yao has to admit falling back into being a servant was a strange comfort. And last night when he was kissed and fondled like something precious, it had put him in a great mood. No more torture for Xichen, he had thought. Tomorrow we land on Lanling. What can he really tell him when he is so sad. That nothing hurts? At least not anymore? The fire by their feet is pleasant.

“When my mother died” he starts “she left some jewellery behind. So I could sell it and survive without her. But the jewellery was worthless. Or at least that's what the shopkeeper told me, because I was young and naive. I had nothing when I arrived at my father's palace. And I was starving so much. I looked at the splendor of Carp Tower and looked at myself, tired and penniless and immediately knew I would not be accepted. But I was so hungry. I thought maybe they would give me some money and tell me to be on my way, or treat me to some food. I thought a servant would take pity in me.”

Xichen does not reply. He gazes silently at the flame.

“When I left Carp Tower, after having seen how my father lived, after having been thrown down his stairs, I feared the Jin more than I feared others. Even if they mistreated me or were cruel to me, it didn't matter, because they were not my family. Doing a thing like that was no longer scary if it meant I would live just one more day in the world. That's what's unfair. Having to eat everyday, needing clothes everyday. But life was not difficult, you can even find agreeable people to do that sort of thing for you. So do not think on it like some great humiliation, Clan Leader Lan.”

“A-Yao” Xichen says. It has such softness inside it. Meng Yao would like to find it in himself to shed a tear or two. Instead he looks on at a lighted horizon, the splendid capital of Lanling.

“When all of this is over. If I could, I would like to help the Lan Clan rebuild Gusu.” he says. “Gusu is such a splendid place. Dignified and elegant. The world should make it its example. I don't really have any funds, but I remember the place. I remember it exactly. I could tell you the distances between two stone lanterns, and the height of a door frame. In fact when I close my eyes, I often see it in my mind.”

Xichen smiles. It seems he too can see it in his mind. The road from Caiyi town, up the mountain, throught the main gate, into the sprawl of its magnificent gardens. 

When the boatman arrives, putting an end to their ruminations, he takes most of their silver. Xichen finally understands how a simple thing like crossing the river can be a matter of life and death.

When they finally land, Meng Yao craves a bath. A long luxurious warm bath. But even before that they really need to wash if they are to find a proper inn to take them in. Stripping to his waist he washes at the bank of the river. The water is so cold, it makes something inside him stir. I am still human, he thinks.

“A-Yao” he hears Xichen say with some worry. He has noticed the scar from the wound on his chest. “Was there a battle at Qinghe? Did you get wounded there?” he asks with so much concern.

Meng Yao is so exhausted. He can't really keep up the lie.

“Actually, Lord Mingjue didn't send me to you. I killed a man at Qinghe and I was driven out and exiled. This is my atonement.” he says gesturing to the river, as if it somehow represents the journey. “I thought if I could save a life, I could somehow make up for the one I took.”

Xichen is in awe. Meng Yao can't really describe it as anything else. As if the truth has explained to him something vital about the way life goes. Meng Yao likes that expression, like thousands of veils have been shredded and it's just him and this other person alone in the world. Like two ghosts that see each other even in a thick mist.

I do not regret killing that man, he wants to say, but maybe Xichen can't handle this much truth. Maybe it's better for him to think that the humiliations he endured were somehow vital to this atonement.

“That is why, when you see Lord Mingjue, you must not tell him who it was that saved you.”

“Why not? You did a noble thing, Meng Yao.”

“He will not understand it. Anyway, this was my atonement for the man I killed, not for the trust I betrayed. I will have to find some other way to amend that.”

He wonders for a moment if he means the things he has said. The way Xichen looks at him, he wants it too. He wants to mean every word, to be the kind of person that has some internal purpose, that's not just drifting through life, with each tragedy serving as an anchor.

When they arrive at the gates of the capital, Meng Yao finally gives back to Xichen the book and his ribbon. He does not expect Xichen's hands to clasp his own- as if they too were precious treasures of the Lan.

“Don't leave. Come with me to the tower. When I tell them what you did, your family will reward you.”

Meng Yao remembers Xue Yang. Maybe now it's not the best time to return to his ancenstral home. Not because his plan could backfire, but maybe because he wants to remain the person Xichen would like him to be. He sees Xichen's hands, tenderly holding his own, his face brimming with emotion. How wonderful would it be if this impression he has now could last forever.

“I will wait for you at the gate. You go and tell them what needs to be done. If they see me with you, they will not want to help you. I am an unfortunate person and they are superstitious.”

“I will tell them what you did.” he insists and Meng Yao smiles.

“They did not want me when I was a child with no one in the world, they are not going to take back a criminal burdened with murder, ousted from Qinghe.” he whispers. “Zewu Jun, you are not being realistic. I implore you to not tell them anything. If people who don't like me know I am here, they might even try to kill me.”

It's another shock to Xichen that a show of kindness can lead to death, but it is something he can wrap his mind around. So he takes his things with meaningful glances and leaves, heading to the looming Carp Tower in the distance. Zewu Jun is a famous person, even in these simple clothes, he will not be turned away. 

And Meng Yao would really appreciate a warm bath and a sip of wine, maybe he could offer to wash dishes for it, or do other kinds of favors. He smiles at the thought of that and wanders into the city.

When the night falls and he lies with his back at the wall of the city, all he can think about is Nie Mingjue again. Like a bell resounding in the vast silence of his mind. Nie Mingjue. Nie Mingjue. Nie Mingjue. On his throne at Qinghe. Brokenhearted and lonely. The night is not at all cold and the shadows of the trees play against his face. His wound hurts, like it has not healed inside. Meng Yao finds it so difficult to understand how at some point he could be held like something precious and then be kicked down like the vilest thing.

But he is here now, waiting still through the night as the moon climbs the sky. And Xichen is at the golden comfort of his father's palace, probably still imploring and arguing. What an honest man! He really didn't say anything to anyone about who brought him here. Meng Yao has to wonder at himself why he is still expecting someone to call him back.

But even if Xichen kept his silence, aren't they curious at Carp Tower? Was it such a small feat to bring the most famous fugitive of Gusu, all the way to Lanling, through the enemy's camps? Maybe the Wen are really going to win this war.

Author's note:

I had this whole second part about Meng Yao going to the Wen really believing they will win the war, and being the one who strategizes the taking over of Unclean Realm, and originally feeding the other clans information to lure Mingjue in a trap and leave them without a general, and only marginally switching to the other side because Xichen realizes who is behind the correspondence and thinks it's Meng Yao atoning for betraying Mingjue's trust and trying to contact him etc. But I am not going to write it because Meng Yao's mind is full of angst. So please imagine it.

[haurchefantblog]

Shadi'ra Amariyo

1. Shadi's anger is mostly proportionate to the situation. He doesn't like seeing people mistreated though and is sensitive to certain circumstances that make him react w more hostility.

2. Maybe not believe. He hopes? He really hopes there is someone out there for him whether it is a soulmate or not. Someone to ease his loneliness. He thinks it's a nice idea.

3. Bullies. He hates seeing the strong pick on those weaker than they are.

4. His happy place is a memory he made up as a child of his "real family" happy together in a modest home with a strong hearth". It was a thought that soothed him to sleep when he was little and at the "orphanage".

5. Maybe with Moss in LA Noscea. Her family unofficially adopting him. Future will be when Kokho finds him and brings him to his real family. Also when he saved Eorzea and finally felt like he did something right. Like his life mattered after all.

6. He was okay in the South Shroud with his caretaker but he wasn't happy because he didn't feel a sense of belonging. He ran away when he was about 14 and btwn then and meeting Moss when he was 16 were some really awful and rough years for him.

7. Shadi doesn't have money lol. He is generous with his friends but isn't looking to buy anyone's favor. He doesn't like others buying for him. He's been taken advantage of while drunk before so he doesn't trust ppl plying him with alcohol.

8. Before he was a rogue he was a scrapper and lost most fights so he has had fingers/hand broken, arm, and his nose.

9. Sometimes he wants to forget he had a family. It's painful to dwell on. The years in Limsa before he was under Moss' family's protection are also repressed often. I haven't gotten far enough in his story but there are definitely moments post arr that Will wreck his soul.

10. He remembers being about 4. His mother was still alive. He remembers crying and being held against her, and the warmth it brought him. He has not felt it since.

11. Quick to laugh, kind. Someone who doesn't make him feel less than. He's not got very high standards bc he's not been treated very well.

12. His first set of daggers given to him by Jacke when he joined the rogue's guild. Being allowed to join the guild meant the world to him and the daggers remind him of how far he's come but also that feeling of family and acceptance the guild provided for him.

13. His forehead tattoo. He thought it was a skin mark but it's ink and he has no recollection of getting it. He has on several occasion been very close to getting inappropriate tattoos in even more inappropriate locations. Moss' mom/Moss saved him every time.

14. Ear piercings. Tongue piercing. He loves piercings. He wants more.

15. A small humble home with a warm fire and a family that loves him. Preferably on the coast, but close, to a city.

16. He's a good cook. He picks up recipes really easily. He has very good instincts when it comes to timing and spices/portions.

17. Shadi is insecure about giving gifts, bc he never had much to give. He's definitely the type to poorly wrap up some money and call it a day.

18. He's actually really good at stealing and he knows he shouldn't be proud of it but he's so damn dextrous and nimble.

19. "he's weird and kind of annoying crybaby that talks too much"

20. "He's more intuitive than I would have guessed. Too intuitive. He's sharp." "He's a sweet boy with a sensitive heart. Cries a bit too much though" "He's got the makings of a true hero if he can stop holding himself back."

21. You name them he's got them. He's worried he's going to annoy or anger anyone that gets close to him so he kinda unwittingly keeps most at arms length despite desperately wanting connection. He's really worried he is going to end up failing as the WoL and become shunned again. He hates his thing eyebrows and that's why he started having moss draw them in for him.

22. Highest skill stat is probably speed. He had a lot of practice running out of harms way and the rogue’s guild honed that skill. His highest non physical stat is perception. To be honest even he doesn’t realize this but he has good instincts. Also a little bit of luck. His charm is hit or miss tbh. 

23. Depends on the lie. He could brush off smaller lies or white lies, but huge lies, even if they were for his “Safety/protection” it’s like..how could you sit there and look at him and do that to him? It’s more of a matter of character and if he trusts you and you lie, you broke that trust. 

24. Cold. He enjoys the cold. Rain or snow he’s not hugely fond of but he can deal with it. Heat kills him. The second he breaks out into a sweat he’s crying. Another reason he hates Forgotten Springs. 

25. He is bursting to say it but never has, that he can remember. He loves Moss/Moss’s mom. But he never really said the words. He tried to show it with actions. He’s definitely in the “actions speak louder than words” dept wrt that but he’d love to be able to say it. And he will one day ;)

26. He whines and cries all the time about random stuff but he doesn’t really confide in anyone. He confided in Moss but she never really understood the depth of it, which is probably why he did it. She felt safe to tell things to. He’s too insecure to bare himself to other people like that. 

27. Yes. He often doesn’t feel remorse when he’s witness “bad guys” die. When he’s killed in defense or for his work with the Scions. He will be devastated when Nanamo “Dies”. And Haurchefant, and Wilred, and all the people who die who touch him in some way and leave him alone again to deal with the pain of loss. 

28. Yeah under his arms and his ribs he’s super ticklish. 

29. He’s got an average pain tolerance. But he’ll start whining at the slightest pain anyway. 

30. He wishes he could really tell Kan-E Senna what he thinks of her “leadership” and the horrors that his kind has to face in the Shroud on a daily basis because she’s too up her own ass to deal with the ramifications of racism and prejudice in Gridanian society and too “pacifist” do to anything about it anyway. 

31. This boy can act right in polite society but he will need reminding. He’s gonna try and practically absorb his food. He’s a big chomper. 

32. He created this version of his abandonment as a child that his parents willfully abandoned him and left him alone and that’s how he came into the care of Amariyo and her half-baked orphanage. Other than that, he’s confessed a few times and most of them weren’t kind in their rebuffs. Jacke’s rejection was kind but it hurt the most. 

33. It’s not happened yet, but it involves G’raha Tia. :> Also probably Haurchefant taking him into his home after the events of the Feast. 

34. Touch would really suck for him. He’s a tactile person but honestly hearing would probably be really bad for his profession if he lost it. 

35. No he’s awkward and starts asking questions that are way too personal too soon. 

36. He would ask Urianger if he really talks like that or if he uses language as a barrier to separate him from others.

37. He would definitely like to travel to the past to see how he got separated from his parents. 

38. Moss and Jacke. Jacke saw his potential and helped him hone his skills which led him to becoming a Scion and helping take down the Imperials and defend Eorzea. Moss helped him be less lonely at a time when he was utterly alone and had no one. They both defined family for him. Later on, G’raha too will be family to him. The Exarch would probably be the answer later on bc of his influence in the past and then his fucking up his chance to finally beat Zenos. 

39. Shadi never wants to be alone again. No one to depend on and no one to share your life with? He can’t handle it. 

40. Asahi scares the shit out of him. He’s so fucking delusional and twisted he can’t comprehend that level of unhinged. Zenos scares him because the concept of killing is like a fun thing to him and there is something wrong with someone who thinks like that. It’s unnerving. He’s also scared of Raubahn bc he doesn’t want to ever be embarrassed in front of him. Raubahn is his hero. He’s also scared of Yda. She’s too dumb to be a Scion he thinks she must have used some evil spell to put on the Scions he doesn’t understand. She’s clearly a witch or something he steers clear of her.