#why did i word this that way... loop from claires... imagine

[pimerscribblings]

I love acting completely stupid & obnoxious toward Loop... my lriend Foop...

[hoboal87]

Carry On

Pairing : Sam x Reader, Platonic!Dean x Reader

Summary : One year after defeating Chuck, Sam and Dean are still hunting, but you’ve quit the life. When the boys take a vacation that quickly turns into a hunt, none of you expect it to change your lives forever.

Characters : Y/N, Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, mentions of Bobby, Jody, Donna and the Girls

Word Count : 3.1k (I tried to keep it below 3k, but...😕)

Warnings : SPOILERS FOR 15X20, Angst, Feels, Fluff (it gets a little gross at the end), A Sprinkling of Pre-Smut, Pregnancy

A/N : This will keep the canon of the finale, and takes place during and after 15x20, but with an added reader insert. This was written as a sequel to “The Tie” but can be read as a stand-alone.

A/N 2 : This is my entry for @negans-lucille-tblr “6k Roll the Dice Challenge.” My prompt is “I didn’t have it in myself to go with grace,” which is bolded.

No Beta, all mistakes are my own.

Check out my Masterlist here

You pull another book down from the library wall; everything has been relatively quiet since Jack took over Heaven, Rowena has put a leash on the demons, the only monsters you and the boys had to worry about were run-of-the-mill, so to speak. Adjusting to this new life is easier than you thought it would be, using the last year to learn that without the necessity to hunt, you and Sam were finally free to live your own lives. After Chuck was rendered powerless, you decided to give up hunting for good. Sam won't, you know that, Sam and Dean had been hunting their whole lives, but you were thrust into the life.

You make your way back towards your shared room with Sam, twirling the small diamond ring on your finger, passing Dean’s along the way. You peer inside, glad to see that the once mass trove of empty beer and whiskey bottles were gone. Sure, there’s still a few bottles strewn throughout the room, but nothing like it was before. In the months following Cas’ death, Dean had been a shell of himself, drinking himself into an early grave. He never told you or Sam exactly how Cas summoned the empty, or why it took him along with Billie. Dean always kept himself bottled up, until he would explode, letting his grief out by way of yelling and screaming. Cas’ trench was usually hanging in the corner, but it wasn’t there now, Dean must’ve taken it with him. Dean was still in pain, that much was clear.

Sam and Dean are off at some pie fest, and you opted to stay behind. You waved the boys off, asking Dean to eat a pie just for you. Sam and Dean needed this; brother time. It was something that rarely happened since you joined them over five years ago, even before you were with Sam, you, Cas or Jack were always tagging along. You saw it as the perfect opportunity to take some time for yourself as well, figuring out where you and Sam would go from here. Sam talked about going back to school, finishing his degree and applying to Law School again, he even had you buy him books on LSAT prep. You talked at length about taking the next steps in your relationship, you couldn’t ever get legally married, but you starting planning a ceremony anyway. Before Chuck was gone, you were content to just be, never needing more, afraid that it would be ripped out from under you the minute you let your guard down.

As you settle into your and Sam’s bed, book in hand, you feel as the weight that’s been sitting on your chest has finally lifted, you can breathe. It's been years since you've been able to truly relax, and as much fun as a pie fest sounded, you wanted to stay at the bunker, taking comfort in your and Sam's shared room. They’d only been gone a few days, but you already missed Sam terribly, pathetic, you know. Never in your life would you have imagined wanting and needing someone like you did Sam. The next morning you wake up to a text from Sam. The brothers mini-vacation quickly turned into a vampire hunt, a nest John had hunted years ago. The boys could handle it, you know that much, it's a milk run compared to everything they've fought over the years. Be Safe, Love You. You responded and went on with your day.

Sam always keeps you in the loop when he and Dean go on a hunt without you, providing you with a source of comfort knowing that they’ve killed the bad guy or solved the mystery. But now, they’ve been silent for too long, a nest of Vamps shouldn’t take more than a few days, and you start to worry. You’re heading towards the garage, determined to track down Sam and Dean, and lay it on thick about how worried you were when they went silent. You’re about to open the door to the garage when it swings open and Sam’s long body fills the frame. It startles you at first, even causing Miracle to bark in surprise. You throw your arms around Sam, all anger gone now that he’s back home with you.

“Don’t ever do that again!” You scold Sam. “You know how much I hate it when you and Dean stop responding.” You want to be mad, but you’re so focused on the fact that Sam’s back home with you again, that nothing else seems to matter. “If you’re gonna keep hunting you have to keep me in the loop,” you mumble.

Sam’s body stiffens against your touch. It takes him a minute, but he reciprocates your hug, pulling you tight against him. You stand there, waiting for some smart remark from Dean, normally barking at the two of you to get a room, but there’s nothing but the echo of the Impala’s engine filling the air. You try to pull away from Sam, but his grip around you only tightens, this hunt must have been more difficult than he or Dean anticipated. Head pressed against Sam’s chest, you can hear his heart thumping loudly and rapidly. Dean would never let you and Sam hold on to each other as long as you have.

“Sammy?” You whisper, trying to pull away again. Sam’s grip finally loosens, but his hands don’t leave you as you take a small step back. Your eyes travel upwards, finally landing on Sam’s face, his eyes are bloodshot and puffy, almost as if he has been crying. “Sam? What’s wrong?”

Sam shakes his head as tears fill his eyes.

“Where’s Dean?” You ask as you watch Sam slowly break down. His head nods towards the Impala, and you pull away completely from Sam’s embrace.

You run towards the Impala as fast as your legs can carry you, a swing open the back door, hoping to see Dean’s shining emerald eyes. Tears blur your vision faster than you can comprehend what you’re seeing. Dean’s lifeless body lays in the back seat, all color drained from him. You scan him desperately, waiting for some kind of sign that this is all a cruel prank, that he and Sam were trying to get one over you for not coming with them on this hunt.

But, there’s nothing.

You scream out, falling to your knees, Dean was just as much your brother as he was Sam’s, he was your best friend, and now, he’s gone. Your cries fill the otherwise silent garage, he can’t be dead, not like this, not on some vampire hunt, something he’s done a hundred times before. Not when you know that he was looking to settle down, find some normalcy, or at least normal for him. He deserved to live, he didn’t deserve to die at the hands of a monster.

Dean wasn’t going to be there when you and Sam got married, when you told Sam about the baby you were carrying. God, how were you going to tell him that? Dean was going to help you surprise Sam, as soon as they came home, he was going to start dropping hints, see how long it took Sam to figure it out. But now, you stared at his body, tearing streaming down your face, you couldn’t stop crying if you wanted to. Sam’s strong arms wrap around you, holding you close to him, and you both sit on the floor, unable to do anything but mourn the loss of the elder Winchester.

Through your sobs, you can hear Sam trying to offer you some comfort, assuring you that he went down saving the victims. You could barely process anything he was saying, and if this is how you felt, you can’t even begin to imagine how he feels. Dean was the only real family that Sam had left, there had to be a way to get him back.

“No, baby,” Sam murmurs in your ear through his tears, “I promised him. No bringing him back.” You didn’t realize you had said it out loud. “He wants us to keep going, he wants us to live.”

Three days later you’re surrounded by all the family you’d gained through the boys. Jody, Donna, Claire, Bobby and Charlie plus too many people to keep track of. You and Sam had already given Dean his proper send-off, dividing his ashes between the graveyard where Mary and John were buried and keeping the rest for yourselves. Jody told the story of the first time she’d met the brothers over ten years ago and how she’d come to think of the boys as surrogate sons. Claire talked about the time she and Dean went mini-golfing and how offended he was when she didn’t understand his Caddyshack references. The bunker was full laughter, it was Dean told you he wanted all those years ago.

You and Sam couldn’t stay in the Bunker after that. You’d left it open to all hunters, you’d still come back occasionally, but it was no longer home. You and Sam packed up most of your and Dean’s things, fitting as much as you could into the Impala, knowing that the two rooms would always be off limits to future hunters. Sam nearly slides into the passenger seat when you leave, and you can see it hitting him all over again. Dean’s gone.

You drive around the country for a few weeks, unsure of where to make your new home. Neither of you ever had a real home before moving into the Bunker, and you were the only family you had left now. You settle in Sioux Falls, Jody and the girls were there, Donna was close enough, and if need be, you could be back in Lebanon in a matter of 5 hours.

You find a small house close to where Bobby’s used to be, it is still a salvage yard, but Bobby’s house is long gone. As the weeks pass you don’t know how much longer you can keep your pregnancy hidden from Sam. Every time you try to tell him, it feels wrong; you are both still grieving the loss of Dean, and Sam has fallen into a deep depression. You have Jody take you to your doctor appointments, and she scolds you for not telling Sam, but when she drops you at your new home, and sees the current state of Sam, she backs off.

At your next appointment, she laughs and cries with you when you learn that you were carrying a boy, Dean. When you first told Dean that you were pregnant, he immediately insisted that the newest Winchester should be named after him, “boy or girl!” He insisted, “I’m named after a Deanna.”

“I think the world only needs one Dean Winchester,” you retorted playfully. Now, it seems the perfect way to carry on Dean’s legacy.

When you leave the doctors, you finally realize how obvious it is that you’re pregnant, your stomach rounding out perfectly under your shirt. You’re almost insulted that Sam hasn’t noticed your ever-growing stomach and the extra pounds you’ve put on over the last month, but he hasn't been himself since Dean died. You hadn’t been intimate with him since you settled into your new house, and he spends most of his day sleeping or in a fugue-like state.

Jody insists on taking you shopping for baby supplies, and by the end you’ve got a shopping cart onesies, blankets, something called a diaper genie, and many other things you didn’t even know you needed. As you walk through the store an iron-on name display catches your eye, and you make your way towards it. The names are written in large cursive lettering, and you hope that you can find the right one. You nearly squeal when you do, and find a plain onesie to attach it to.

You’re glad that the baby store carries labeless bags, especially when Sam is up and about when you get home. He looks good today, he’s slightly sweaty, and you know that he left the house and went for a run. He greets you with a quick kiss, a sheen of sweat covering his face, and makes for your room. He eyes the bags in your hands, but doesn’t say anything, and a few minutes later you can hear the shower running. Thank God, you sigh and take the bags into an empty room, Miracle following closely behind you. You set the bags down in what will be baby Dean’s nursery, Jody’s right, you think, we’ve got a lot of catching up to do.

You find the onesie and the iron-on decal, you place it in the center and carefully attach the decal. After letting it cool you tuck it into a small gift bag. You hear the shower turn off, and make your way back into your bedroom, placing the bag on your bedside table, waiting for Sam to exit the bathroom. You can’t help but stare at him appreciatively when he opens the door, a towel wrapped around his waist. You’re suddenly very aware of how long it's been since you’d been with him. Sam catches you eyeing him, and smirks, sending a jolt straight down to your core. You missed this, not just the sex, but how he takes charge with you, his domineering presence making you melt. He leans over you, and places a tender yet eager kiss on your lips.

You reach for the towel, letting it slide onto the floor as Sam deepens the kiss, and start to work him over in your hands. Sam groans at your touch, and starts to pull at your shirt, pulling his face away just long enough to rid you of it. Sam’s lips are back on yours just as quickly as they were gone. His hands palm at your breasts, and you moan into his hands reach into the overflowing cups, you really loved your pregnancy boobs, but your bras were doing very little to keep them in place. Sam’s hands travel to your back, and undos your bra, letting your breasts fall free. Sam finally opens his eyes when his hands land on your protruding stomach and takes a few steps back.

He quickly pulls on a pair of sweatpants as you pull your shirt back over your head, trying you best not to cry as he starts pacing the floor of your bedroom. You wait for him to say something, anything; you weren’t trying when you realized you were pregnant. You’d just gone off your birth control, and everyone told you it would take at least a few months for your body to get back to its natural cycle. You both knew it was possible but figured you’d have at least 6 months before really actively trying for a baby.

Sam’s face is almost unreadable; you can’t tell if he’s happy or mad, if he’ll tell you it’s too soon, that he’s not ready. He opens and closes his mouth multiple times, as if he can’t figure out what to say. If Dean were here, he’d probably knock him upside his head, telling him this exactly what he’s always wanted.

“How– why–” Sam stammers as you move to the edge of the bed. “Are you– You’re pregnant.” He says it almost as if it’s a question and you nod your head. “How long?” There’s almost an accusation in his voice, you’re sure it’s not intentional, but it doesn’t make you feel any better.

“18 weeks,” you murmur, trying to hold back your tears. “I wanted to tell you sooner, but it’s– it never seemed to be the right time. When you and Dean–” Sam winces at the mention of Dean’s name, you hadn’t said it out loud in almost a month, not since you left the Bunker. “I found out right before you left, I was going to tell you when you got back. But… after… I was afraid that you’d say it wasn’t the right time. That it was too soon.”

“It is too soon,” Sam mutters under his breath, you’re sure it’s not meant to be malicious, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less. “You said it would take at least 6 months.”

“It’s different for everyone,” you offer, as Sam runs his hands through his hair, still pacing in front of you. “Please, Sam, can you sit down? You’re freaking me out.” Sam moves to the edge of the bed, and sits down next to you.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” Sam whispers, eyeing your belly. “I don’t know how– I don’t know how to be a dad.”

“Yes, you do,” you grab his hand, and place it on your belly. “Dean taught you everything you would ever need to know.”

Sam smiles sadly, “I ever tell you about the night I left for Stanford?” You shake your head. “Dad and me, we got into this huge fight. So of course, Dean steps in– gets between us, attempts to calm us, but we were both just– just too fucking stubborn to listen.” He removes his hand, focusing down on them as he fidgets. “When dad said don’t come back, I called his bluff, and I was– I was so pissed at Dean, I thought he was taking Dad’s side, that I didn’t even say bye to him. I didn’t have it myself to go with grace. I walked away from him, the only family that I had, and I regretted it for years. I- I feel like he should be the one here, that- that we’re moving on too quickly.”

“Dean, he– he wouldn’t want you, us, to live like this, we owe it to him to keep fighting, to live our lives. I know how much you miss him,” a tear slips from Sam’s eye. “I miss him too, but you know what keeps me going everyday?” Sam shakes his head, and you take his hand in yours again, and place it back on the swell of your belly just as little Dean decides to kick for the first time. The smile on Sam’s face is instant, you can’t stop the happy tears from falling as Sam shifts in front of you, and lays his head on your swollen stomach. “Our son.”

Sam cries, truly cries for the first time since the day he brought home Dean’s body. You hold him against you, he’s been so pent up for the last 3 months, bottling up his emotions, he needs this, you both do. You’d been so focused on the baby growing inside of you never realized that you hadn’t realized that Sam had never come to terms with Dean’s death.

“It’s a boy?” Sam asks as his cries cease. “We’re having a son?”

“We’re having a son,” you nod, and hand Sam the gift bag still sitting on your bedside table.

Sam opens the bag, and you smile as he pulls out the green onesie, his eyes lighting up as he reads the lettering.

“You’re sure?” He questions.

“The world lost one Dean Winchester, let’s give it another.”

Please give let me know what you think! Reblog or send an ask

Forever Tags:

@that-one-gay-girl​

@akshi8278​

[perriewinklenerdie]

Birthday (Ethan x f!MC)

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x Claire Herondale

Word count: 2,7 k

Summary: It’s Claire’s birthday and Ethan is there to make her wishes come true.

Warnings: Nothing explicit, allusions to mature situations.

A/N: It’s my birthday, we turned 21, guys. I officially feel old. (jk but not really)

She felt a soft touch against her forehead, like a pair of lips pressing to her skin briefly. It wasn’t enough to rouse her from her sleep; if anything, it filled her with a sense of security, sending her further into her dreams.

Cards of various colors and sizes were stacked on the small table by the window, a few boxes sitting on the ground, waiting to be opened. When she got home last night, her friends pulled her to the living room to celebrate with her early, since they all had to go to work the next day. All except her.

A day off allowed her to sleep in, a luxury she didn’t experience that often nowadays. She turned all of her alarms off before she fell asleep, sinking into her bed with a happy sigh.

Now, the sun was gently illuminating her room, and a very faint scent of roses tickled her senses, pulling her out of her slumber. Her eyes slowly opened, vision clearing up after a few blinks. The smell she felt in her sleep came from somewhere to her left, and as soon as she turned in that direction, she knew what the source of it was.

Two dozen of red roses were sitting proudly on her bedside table. Claire didn’t have to guess who sent them; she’s received flowers from him before, and the way he asked for them to be arranged might as well have been his signature. As she sat up, she noticed a small note, sticking up above the surface of red petals.

Smile for me today, gorgeous.

And she did, helplessly and brightly, warmth spreading throughout her body. Ethan sending her flowers and being so openly affectionate with her was something she got used to over time, but it still took her breath away every time.

The bouquet must have been brought to her by one of her roommates, as no one else was there to pick them up from the delivery company. She stretched slowly, then sat up, the shirt she stole from him a long time ago falling off her right shoulder. The only other thing she was wearing were her panties, so the thing keeping her warm was the duvet she still thrown over her. If he were there, he would have enjoyed the view.

Claire’s hands wrapped to her best ability around the vase that held the flowers and picked it up. Noticing how much water they were lacking already, she brought them to the kitchen, her vision blocked by the roses when she stepped into the kitchen.

“Now that’s a sight for sore eyes.” Ethan’s voice rang from somewhere ahead of her, concealed for the time being. She set the vase down on the counter, revealing his very relaxed form, standing by the stove, a towel thrown over his shoulder. His sleeves were rolled up, exposing the muscles of his forearms as he worked, transferring freshly baked waffles onto the already made stack.

“Likewise, Dr. Ramsey.” She muttered, her bare feet carrying her towards him languidly. He made sure everything was in order, then turned towards her, his hands between his back and the counter.

“You’ve got yourself some flowers there.” he nodded towards them with a smirk. She looked over her shoulder, admiring his present, laughing at his words.

“I thought I told you already, false humbleness isn’t a good look on you.”

Once she was close enough, her arms slowly made their way around his neck, pulling him down so their faces were at the same level. Ethan’s hands sneaked around her waist, squeezing her sides teasingly.

“Happy birthday.” Ethan whispered mere seconds before their lips met in one of the most tender kisses they ever shared. She breathed in slowly, steadying herself by tightening her embrace around him. Her feet were barely touching the ground, his hands holding her up; defying gravity and amplifying the lightheadedness she was felt every time they kissed.

“Thank you.” she hummed when the kiss broke, keeping her eyes closed for a moment longer. When she looked at him again, his blue irises had a mischievous glint in them, and soon enough, she knew why.

He began swaying them slowly, to the tune she couldn’t hear, his carefree demeanor rubbing off on her. Claire followed his lead, letting him dance her to the chair he pulled out earlier, spinning her in his arms before helping her sit down.

“Breakfast will be ready shortly. Do you want coffee or tea?” he asked on his way back to the stove. Taking the last waffle off the griddle, he turned the burner off, carrying the sweet pastry to the table along with more toppings than she could imagine.

“Coffee.”

He joined her by the table shortly, pulling out a chair and preparing a plate for her. Every time she tried to intervene, he would grin and kiss her hand before placing it down on the table. Her only job for now was to tell him what she wanted on her waffles.

“You’re spoiling me.” Claire teased, pulling him to her by his arm and pressing a kiss to his cheek, prompting a subtle blush to appear on his skin. He passed her the coffee, then helped himself to a serving of food.

“You deserve to be spoiled.” he responded like it was the most obvious thing in the whole wide world. She gave him an adoring smile, squeezing his shoulder briefly.

They dug into their food, joking about how much wiser she was supposed to be now that she’s turned 30. She huffed in fake offense, pinching his side in retaliation. The only reason they avoided a tickling war was the speed at which he raised his hands in surrender, laughing as he put himself out of her reach.

Once their plates were clean, they collaborated on cleaning the table and the kitchen. Ethan protested, saying that she shouldn’t be doing anything, but she was having none of that, saying that if she helped him, they would both be free to continue with their day. He couldn’t argue with that logic.

His eyes continuously traveled towards her body, observing with hungry eyes how her skin peaked from beneath the fabric of his shirt. Her bare shoulder was enough to get his imagination going, vivid visions running in his mind and driving him crazy.

“Do you have anything planned for us today?” Claire asked, leaning against the counter. Ethan put away the last plate, then turned to look at her.

“Not yet. Today is about you; you’re calling the shots here. Why?” his eyebrow inched higher, his gaze trained on her body once more.

“No reason. It’s just that…” she took a careful step towards him, pulling on the sleeve of his shirt to expose even more of her shoulder. His irises turned a shade darker, his focus laser sharp. “If you keep on undressing me with your eyes, we won’t get anywhere.”

Ethan’s steps were quiet, but confident when he strode up to her, pressing her against the counter. A suggestive smirk was all she could see from that close of a proximity. She breathed in and out deeply, waiting for his next move, brushing her hand against his with a barely-there touch.

In a flash, his arms wrapped around her and his knees bent, the upward momentum allowing him to throw her over his shoulder without any issues. Her delighted shriek was the only sound he wanted to hear in that moment, at least until he got her where he wanted her. The door to her bedroom slammed shut behind them right as her body met the mattress.

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

Two rounds later, Ethan propped his head up on his arm, lying on top of her covers, bare and completely relaxed. Claire was moving around the room, rotating between her wardrobe and her dresser, unable to come to the decision about her clothes for the day.

His eyes followed her, taking in every glorious inch of her naked body as it paraded right in front of him, the very recent memories of their bodies moving in sync flooding his mind, the sounds she was making ringing in his ears on the loop.

Rays of sunshine that fell through the windows brushed against his body, bringing out every line of the muscles that shaped his form.

“Are you sure you want to leave?” he asked, feigning innocent intentions when she shot him an amused look over her shoulder.

“I’m starving. After a marathon we just had, I need my energy. And besides, the view from the restaurant is amazing.” She argued, leaning forward to dig through one of her drawers, humming in victory when she found what she was looking for.

Ethan leaned up on his arms, straining his neck to see her fully. His voice was deep when he talked, distracted. “I’m quite enjoying the view I’m seeing right now.”

“Yeah?” Claire knew what he was talking about even before she turned to face him. When she eventually did, she made sure to lean even further as she did so, a strained groan escaping his lips at the sight. She bit her lip softly. “You’re about to enjoy it even more.”

Looking over her shoulder, she pulled on a new set of lingerie, swaying her hips a little to tease him more. His irises were so dark, they might as well have been black, his gaze swallowing her whole.

“Nothing looks better than you, naked for me.”

“Right back at ya.”

Smirking, she walked towards the bed, pushing his legs to make them lie flat. She then climbed on top of him, straddling his hips and making sure their bodies didn’t touch. He didn’t even try to hide his staring.

“Keep it up and I’m going to rip it off you. Your first and final warning, Claire.” His voice was deep and low, his restrain running out.

“Funny, it sounds like a promise to me.” she hummed, giggling when he shot her a heated look. Leaning down, she breathed out deeply as she spoke. “Get your sexy body out of my bed.” Claire’s lips pressed to his sternum, sending shots of heat right through him. “Get dressed.” Her kisses trailed upwards, lips sucking on the skin of his neck, pulling a broken gasp out of him. “And when we’re back at your apartment…” she went even higher, hovering her lips right above his. “… you’ll rip my dress right off my body.”

Out of patience, his head shot straight up, catching her off guard with a lingering kiss. His arms wrapped around her and with one, practiced move, threw her back onto the bed. He nested himself between her legs, smirking at her from above.

“Ethan!”

“You couldn’t honestly expect me to keep my hands off you when you’re on top of me, only in your lingerie.”

Shaking her head, she stroked his shoulders.

“You have no patience.”

“And no self-control when it comes to you.” he agreed, his fingers tracing the patterns of the lacy material that barely covered anything. The tips of his digits skimmed over her sides, tickling her gently, and pulling a short laugh out of her.

Ethan hid his face in her neck, kissing her a few times and muttering some incoherent phrases. He dragged his teeth over the sensitive skin, growling lightly when he reached her ear.

“Get that dress on before I devour you again.”

---------

Eventually, they found themselves sat at the private booth of their favorite restaurant; a hidden gem in the middle of Boston.

His view of Claire’s face was obstructed by the menu card, the only thing he could see were her eyes. And those eyes were straining from her food options to him far more often that one would think was necessary. The silent flirting was their thing, be it a subtle brush of fingers or a meaningful look.

The waiter approached them to take their orders soon after they took their seats. Ethan ordered his usual pick, then turned towards her, waiting for her to decide. With a silly grin, she turned towards the young man.

“Pasta casserole, please.”

With a nod, he turned towards the kitchen, leaving the pair to themselves. Ethan tried to suppress his smirk, but ultimately failed, earning her attention.

“It’s my birthday, you’re not allowed to make fun of me.” Claire warned him, shaking her finger at him playfully. He shrugged his shoulders innocently.

“I would never make fun of you. Or judge your childish choice of food, even though you just turned 30.”

She gasped, pressing her hand to her chest in feigned pain. “You’re my boyfriend, how dare you throw this much shade.” A wide grin suddenly appeared on his face, catching her off guard. “What is it?”

“What?” Realizing what he was doing, he tried to shake the feeling off, but the giddiness refused to leave him. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“You’re grinning because of something I said. What was it?” she pushed him for an answer, now smiling too, curiosity taking over her. Stubbornly, he shook his head, refusing to say anything. The grin persisted. “Was it me calling you my boyfriend?” she wondered out loud, observing how the grin grew even wider, an adorable blush coloring his cheeks. Nodding slowly, she slid closer to him, muttering deeply. “Boyfriend.” Ethan breathed out shakily, placing his hand to the small of her back. Claire pressed her lips to his ear, dropping her voice to a heady whisper. “My boyfriend.”

“Just wait and see what I’m going to do to you once I get you all alone.”

“Yes, please.”

Their banter would have escalated to the dangerous heights if it wasn’t for the waiter that came back with their food and a bottle of champagne. Smiling politely, he poured them both a glass, then left with a slight nod.

Ethan took his glass, raising it to make a toast, the soft sound contrasting the palpable tension between them. “To you.”

----------

The door to his apartment barely managed to close behind them when his arms wrapped around her, pulling her up and over his shoulder. His legs carried them both to the kitchen, where he deposited her on top of the counter, kissing her collarbone, exposing it when he pulled the material away from her neckline.

Not without trouble, he detached himself from her, walking towards the fridge. He presented her a perfectly made cake he spent half of his previous evening making, then set it down on the table and walked past her again, fetching candles and matches.

When everything was ready, he picked it up again and went back to stand in between her legs, raising the cake up to her.

“Make a wish.” Ethan muttered, lights dancing in their eyes. She blew out the candles without a moment of hesitation, staring right at him as the last flame died down.

Claire waited for him to put the cake securely down on the counter, then grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and hauled him onto her, claiming his lips in a hard kiss.

He groaned quietly, his surprise quickly fainting in favor of the desire that coursed through his veins again. Ethan kissed her back, grabbing her by her hips and sliding her closer to him, their bodies pressing against each other confidently.

“Tha-ank you.” she breathed out heavily, choking on her words when he rolled his hips into hers. She gripped his hair, pulling on it to keep him close.

“Don’t you want to see your present? Or- christ, Claire – eat some cake?” he asked, but he didn’t really mean it. He couldn’t possibly think of anything else other than stripping them both down and taking her against any surface of his apartment they managed to reach. She nipped on his neck, sucking on his skin hard enough to make a mark.

“I want you. Anything else can wait.”

He ripped her dress off her body before her feet could touch the ground.

Notes

This was as self-indulgent as I’ve ever gotten while writing, no regrets.

Tagging separately

[jamiemackenziefraser]

All That Was Fair

Chapter 4: A Fall of Rain

Chapter 4 Summary: Claire delights in a new experience, and later comes to a startling realization.

Read on AO3

Chapter 4 below the cut...

Chapter 3 , Chapter 5

Chapter 4: A Fall of Rain 

Jamie couldn’t stand the look of pain still etched into that bonny face as Claire thought about the stones. He longed to tell her aloud all the vows his heart was making, but that would have been very foolish indeed. 

No, he would honor her request of not talking about the stones. What she really needed was a distraction. 

Her eyes were still downcast and clouded with thought. Jamie carded his fingers through her curls briefly in one last wordless reassurance and then caught her chin with two fingers to draw her face up to look at him. 

“Do ye maybe want a shower? That always helps me feel better,” he offered with a smile. 

She blinked, and much to his relief, the charged atmosphere dissolved in an instant. 

“A shower?” She mimicked the word but it came out slightly funny as she struggled to form the unfamiliar pronunciation. 

Jamie chuckled. “I keep forgetting. Do ye not bathe then?” 

“Of course I do,” she looked affronted, “in the loch. But what does that have to do with this ‘shower’ of yours?”

“Oh, ye’re in for a real treat, lass.” 

With some fortitude he wasn’t sure he possessed, he detached himself from her. He led her to the bathroom and set to work getting the water warming. When she followed in behind him, she tried to immediately strip her tee-shirt off. He stopped her with a stilling hand on hers (which were crossed over each other and gripping the edge of her shirt, mere seconds away from--). He let out an indulgent chuckle.

“Wait until I’ve left, mo nighean donn.” 

She leveled him with a wide-eyed golden look. “You won’t go far?” she asked a little anxiously. 

He shook his head with a smile. “I’ll be just outside.” 

Pulling the shower curtain away once more, he stuck his hand in and found it to be the perfect temperature. He tugged it open the rest of the way and stood aside to show Claire the water. She peeked hesitantly inside, and her look of wary confusion quickly morphed into amazement. 

“It’s like rain,” she exclaimed as she turned and looked at him, wonderment lighting her eyes. 

“Aye,” he laughed, “but jes’ wait until ye stand beneath it.” 

He showed her the towels to dry off with when she was done, and then reassured her one last time that he would be just outside. Then, he ducked out of the bathroom and shut the door behind him. 

Jamie rested his back on the door and indulgently pressed his ear to it. He was admittedly eager to hear her reactions if not also a bit concerned that she might slip and fall despite his warnings. The telltale scratching sounds of plastic loops of the shower curtains indicated that Claire had stepped in. A second later he heard a cry of delight. 

“It’s warm!” she squealed in what could only be blissful excitement. 

“I kent ye’d love it,” he called in. 

He heard gleeful laughing and splashing, and could only imagine Claire— her hands outstretched with palms lifted to catch the water, her face upturned toward the showerhead with a radiant smile, drops of water splashing over those perfect shoulders and creamy white skin to trace down…

-Christ! Dinna disrespect the lass like that. 

He took a tight rein on his wandering thoughts and instead called in, “ye can use a wee bit of that soap as well. In the bottle on the side there. Ye rub it on yer skin and then wash it off.” 

Instead of a reply, there was a loud clunk from the bathroom, and Jamie’s heart leapt to his throat. His instinct was to immediately rush inside, but first he forced himself to anxiously call, “Claire?” 

“Sorry, just dropped it. It’s slippery,” came the reply. 

Jamie let out the breath he’d been holding in a huge but shaky exhale. His heartbeat slowed immediately and he couldn’t help but laugh at his overreaction. Claire just seemed to bring out every ounce of protective instinct in him. Maybe it was her vulnerability paired with curious naivety, maybe it was the circumstances in which he’d found her, or maybe it was just something about their connection, but Jamie had never felt anything of the sort. He wasn’t exactly what people would call the alpha-male possessive type. His previous flings (not that he’d had many nor had they stayed around long) were always very independent from him. They were like two ships passing in the night-- barely a connection, just occasional proximity. They had never needed him nor him them. But with Claire… God— with Claire it seemed that she needed him. And it was growing more and more apparent with every second that he needed her just as much, albeit not in the exact same way. 

He was interrupted from his musings when the bathroom door that Jamie was leaning on suddenly opened and he nearly came crashing inside. His hands caught the doorframe to keep him from falling, and when he straightened, he came face to face with a wide-eyed and apologetic Claire, wrapped in a towel with droplets of water dripping from her curls and beaded all over her skin. 

“Sorry,” she stuttered. 

He stood frozen in front of her, still startled by her abrupt opening of the door, but mostly he was taking in her appearance and trying to get his brain to restart. 

She’s sae bonny. 

“I couldn’t figure out how to stop it,” she admitted, giving a vague point in the direction of the shower that was still running. 

“Oh… aye,” Jamie said dazedly. He snapped himself back into the moment and hastily added, “I’ll take care of it while ye go to yer room and get dressed again, aye?” 

She nodded at his suggestion and scooped up her discarded clothes. Then she stood looking at him expectantly. He wondered for a second why she was just standing there before he realized he was still frozen in the doorway and blocking her path. 

“Eh… sorry,” he murmured as he stepped aside and allowed her to exit the bathroom. 

He couldn’t help but stare after her as she walked down the hall toward the bedroom. Squeezing his eyes shut in self admonishment, he quickly turned away and stepped into the bathroom to shut off the shower. Truth be told, he needed one of his own, but he couldn’t yet bear to leave her alone for long enough for him to do so. He absently mopped up the small puddles of water Claire had made on the bathroom floor, and then he left the bathroom and returned to the living room to wait for Claire on the couch. 

Nearly a second later, before he had any time to get into his own head and begin contemplating again, Claire returned. Her damp curls rested on her shoulders making his tee-shirt a bit damp. Even wet she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever laid eyes on. 

She gave him a smile, as if reading his thoughts, and began to head straight for him again. This time, she sat down next to him and nestled into his side. Flustered for only a second, he recovered and put an arm around her so she could burrow in further. Then, she brought her knees across his lap to rest her folded legs over his. 

“I liked-- what did you call it? Shower? Well, I liked it very much,” she commented happily as she looked up at him. 

His voice was low as he answered tenderly, “good, I’m glad. I kent ye would.” 

As he was speaking, Claire’s hands began to wander over him. Her fingers touched at the edge of his jaw, just below his ear, and rubbed the corner of it. He couldn’t remember someone ever touching him just there, and an odd sensation gripped him in his wame. But he found he liked it-- just that slight fluttering of excitement and the tingling going through his face where she touched him. 

He wanted so desperately for her to continue her strange explorations of him that he felt he must keep perfectly still and silent in order to not break the spell. Not moving his head, he glanced down at her to see her expression was that of enrapturement. 

Her hand traveled higher, tracing the shell of his ear with a feather-light touch. It was amazing to Jamie how just the barest hint of her skin on his could rattle him so. 

Then, without warning, she buried her hand deep into his mussed hair, fingers sinking deep into the curls. 

He had started a bit at her suddenness, but instantly melted as her fingers began to press delightfully into his scalp and massage in little circles. A sigh automatically tumbled from his lips.

“Are all fair folk sae tactile?” he asked as a laugh rumbled deep in his chest at her odd affectionate and intimate behavior. 

“Hmmm?” she murmured, still enthralled by his hair. But then she jerked her gaze suddenly to meet his, as if his words had finally penetrated her brain, and she flushed a very becoming shade of pink. (Jamie was glad to see that he wasn’t the only one who seemed to lose all brain functions). 

“Oh... no, ah-” she withdrew her hand from his hair and leaned away a bit, her body parting from his, “I’m sorry, am I bothering you?” 

He quickly caught her hand and squeezed it, as if that could pull her back to him. Perhaps the right thing to do would have been to keep the more appropriate space between them, but Jamie couldn’t help but reinitiate contact; he couldn’t seem to be without it. 

“I like it jes’ fine,” he murmured, his voice coming out huskier than he’d intended. 

At that, her lips quirked up in a smile and all hesitancy vanished. She scooted closer to him, molded herself to his side once more, and then went back to his hair again— this time both hands smoothing up his nape to tangle in his curls and pet him gently. 

Jamie couldn’t have wiped the smile off his face if he tried. 

“You’re so beautiful…” she said under her breath, perhaps mostly to herself as her fingers carded through the curls, “I’ve never seen this color hair before.” He felt a finger brush his forehead and then twirl a wayward strand around it, “like the red of a stag, but with bits of sunlight glinting through it…” 

He didn’t have time to respond because suddenly the loud ding-dong of his doorbell rang through the house and sent Claire jolting back in alarm, back ramrod straight and head whipping in the direction the sound came from. 

“Dinna fash, it only means someone is at the door,” he explained (already mourning the loss of her hands on him), “stay here.” 

He got up from the couch and walked to the entryway. Unlocking the door and freeing the bolt, he opened it to reveal a postman holding a package. 

“Good day, sir,” the postman greeted. His eyes flicked over Jamie’s shoulder and he added with a polite nod, “ma’am.” 

Jamie’s head swiveled in surprise, and he saw Claire had followed him and was peeking warily around the corner like a shy animal. Her eyes went wide as watermelons when the postman addressed her, and she quickly disappeared behind the wall. 

He returned his attention to the postman and hastily signed the sheet on the clipboard with the proffered pen and then accepted the package. A quick “good day” was all he managed before he shut the door, locked it, and rushed back to Claire. 

Abandoning the package on the desk, he made his way over to her. She was standing in the corner of the kitchen, her arms wrapped around herself and eyes distant. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked, a hint of urgency creeping into his tone. 

He couldn’t help but reach out his hands to smooth up and down her arms. The touch seemed to calm her somewhat— as he was finding out that it often did— and a bit of the tenseness in her shoulders lessened. But only a fraction. 

“It’s not just you,” she whispered, nearly under her breath. 

He made an interrogative sound in his throat. 

“He could see me, too,” she said softly, looking down with her brow furrowed. 

Jamie wasn’t exactly sure of the implications, but the gravity of her tone and how upset she was indicated that it wasn’t good. He gave her an encouraging nod to continue. 

“Like I told you, that shouldn’t happen. You see, the fair folk operate on a different plane than you do. That’s why you can’t see us and we rarely leave a mark on your world. Unless we choose. We can open the veil into your plane to reveal ourselves. But all the time with you, and just now— I haven’t been. I think…” she trailed off, her eyes growing stormy and her words catching in her throat. Her voice had been growing thicker and thicker with emotion, and now it stopped entirely. 

Jamie left one hand on her arm and reached the other down to catch her hand in his. 

“What is it, a nighean?” he asked gently. 

She looked up at him again. “I had a theory, but it seems even more likely now. It feels different here... It would make everything make sense,” she said disjointedly. 

She looked so saddened by it that Jamie was growing worried. 

“Tell me,” he encouraged, trying to keep his tone soft and calm amidst the growing anxiety for her. 

Once more, her wide-eyed gaze fixed on him. “I think the stones brought me to the human plane of existence. This plane.” 

Jamie nodded, still a little confused. “Aye…?” 

“So,” she said, “I don’t think I can ever go home.”

***

Next chapter

[magnoliasinbloom]

Lie To Me - 3

There is room for secrets, but not for lies. Is there a place for their love?

AO3 :: Previously

Jamie says he hopes it wasn’t an intrusion, getting her number from Geillis, but between the whisky and the hour and the fact that she’d just signed divorce papers, he hadn’t felt it proper before.

Claire agrees to dinner, almost as soon as Jamie gets the words out. She has been separated for a year, she reminds herself; she’s doing nothing wrong. Geillis is listening in, gripping Claire’s shoulder in excitement. She dresses quickly and practically pulls Claire all the way back to their flat, insisting that she needs time to prepare, and promising to make herself scarce should Claire bring company later that night.

Rifling through her closet, G selects a calf-length midnight blue dress, one of the demurest pieces she owns. Claire is surprised at the choice, but puts it on before Geillis changes her mind and wants to put her in black latex or something. She wonders if she should straighten her hair, opt for a more sophisticated look, but in the end, she leaves well enough alone—if Mr. James Fraser has an objection to mad curly hair, he can bloody well bugger off.

He had offered to pick her up, but Claire feels a bit awkward about it. She gets an Uber to the spot he picked, in downtown Glasgow. Stepping out of the car, she smooths the dress over her body, shouldering the strap of her purse. The heels she wore last night hug her feet, clicking on the wet pavement. A light rain falls, so she hurries inside the restaurant before it can ruin her hair.

Catching a glimpse of Jamie’s vivid red hair at the bar, her insides seem to trip and dance, a warm flare of anticipation settling in her very bones. Claire has a sudden urge to turn and flee, but he spots her at the entrance and immediately stands, making a beeline for her.

Claire knows it’s Geillis’s words in her head making her nervous, and the decision she made earlier. She might just be up for some no-strings-attached fun. Why shouldn’t she? She is still young, and it doesn’t have to mean anything. She had wanted to hate herself for listening to G and donning matching lacy underwear—“Even if Jamie doesn’t get to see it, it boosts yer confidence!”—but now she is glad for it. With a deep breath, Claire channels G’s spirit and is determined to go through with a one-night stand.

Once Jamie reaches her side, she realizes that the connection she felt at the pub hadn’t been her imagination; if anything, the grin on Jamie’s face when he sees her up close confirms it. Claire glows inwardly, happy for once she let G dress her.

“Hello, Jamie.” Claire inhales his clean fresh scent, heady and spicy and purely male. Perhaps her plans for the night wouldn’t be hard to carry out.

“Good evening, Sassenach.” With a brief kiss on her cheek, Claire accepts her new nickname as Jamie takes her hand and loops it through his arm, guiding her into the restaurant. It’s a small, intimate bistro, with low yellow lights; they cast his features into relief, slanted cheekbones and full lips. He leads her to a corner table, away from most other patrons; a server immediately takes their drink order and sets a plate of bruschetta before them, on the house.

“Seems like they know you well.” Claire takes a bite of the crispy bread and tomato concoction and Jamie does the same.

“I come here often on my own. It’s quiet enough to get some work done, and disconnect from long days at the office.”

Jamie’s gaze is piercing blue, and Claire tries to match its intensity. There’s something simmering between them, an unresolved, indefinable else that must have out before the night is through. She has never felt this intense, this fast, with anybody before—not even her erstwhile husband.  

“So, Jamie. Why did you call during your long, busy day?” Claire sips her whisky, knowing it makes her tongue and inhibitions looser.

“The easy answer? I wanted to see ye again.” He glances down at his plate, and purses his lips. “But there’s things I have to tell ye, before this goes any further. Am I right in believing, Sassenach, that there might be more between us?”

Claire swallows. “You are. I can’t say what this is, but I do know it’s not usual.”

“Aye, well. There are… complications in my life, things that are out of my control. In my line of work—well, no, that’s no’ accurate to say. What I do, I do to protect my family and people I care about.”

“That sounds—dangerous. Ominous.”

“It is. But what I need you to know is—”

“Listen, James Fraser.” Claire understands that it’s the whisky talking now, and she doesn’t want complications. “I think I know why you called. And I need you to know that it’s alright. I want it. I want you, too.” She wants easy, she wants excitement and pleasure. She wants to grab it while she can, while she still feels the attraction between them. No one knows what tomorrow will bring and she doesn’t really care.

X-x-X

Jamie has no right to her; he knows this. He has no right to her time, her conversation, her smiles, the possibility of more.

Jamie wonders if perhaps Claire is the woman to whom he can reveal the truth. The depth of his feelings for her on such short acquaintance is unexpected. He doesn’t want to lie to her, but he cannot risk Claire, and place her in danger.

She hadn’t let him speak another word as she pushed away from the table and beckoned for him to follow. He had tossed a few bills on the table and gone after her. Claire met him outside under the bistro’s dark green awning and pressed her lips against his. Her mouth was whisky heat and warm honey, everything he had thought it would be. Jamie couldn’t formulate thoughts beyond Claire, and what she was doing to his body. He hailed a street cab and she gave directions to her flat.

Jamie is trying not to think of the implications and possible consequences of his actions. He knows that this shouldn’t happen, it can’t happen, but he feels helpless, caught in the moment and the knowledge that she wants him as much as he does. Neither of them is even the slightest bit drunk, not by a long shot, which makes this moment even more poignant. This won’t happen again, he vows, you can’t ever have her again, so enjoy it now, while it lasts, while she believes in you.

[whosaskingwrites]

The Sound Of Love (Tsukishima x Reader)

A/N: Um I don't like this one as much as the others but I did my best. It honestly took forever cause I didn't want to write it and I had no idea what song to use but I eventually decided so here we are.

WARNINGS: angst

Date: Saturday November 7th, 2020

Details: 5.3 pages 2,000 words

Theme: Musicalia- The victim will hear a song constantly playing in their head until it drives them insane. The person of affection will only hear the music when they are around the victim.

Angst Masterlist

Clair De Lune

A simple, beautiful piano melody that had been repeating in my head for weeks. There was never a reprieve from the beautifully haunting melody. My mind followed the sound like a moth to a flame and deteriorated the closer it got to the music.

No amount of holding my hands over my ears stopped it. It had become a part of me like the backround music in a video game or movie. However this wasn't a video game or a movie this was real. Every day was the same never a rest I couldn't even sleep some nights.

This was my last week at Karasuno before I was put in the hospital. My mind was too far gone to stay out I couldn't really hear anything anymore to distracted by the music and of course I hummed it on occasion. Everyone in my classes knew I had it...Musicalia but they didn't know who caused it.

Monday

I walked to class with a sigh Yamaguchi was following and as we walked I heard a gentle piano melody that got louder. I spotted a familiar H/c haired girl fast walking past me like she'd done since I pushed her away. Yamaguchi followed my eyesight and the music faded the further away she got "you should apologize you know. This week is her last at Karasuno," I blinked 'her last week?' I thought "Shut up Yamaguchi," I said keeping my emotions off my face "Sorry Tsukki," I continued watching the S/c skinned female rush off down the hall.

Tuesday

I was walking up to the roof ready to reject another girl. Why they felt the need to confess to me of all people id never understand. As I rounded the corner someone ran into me and with a short shriek they fell. I was about to say something when I noticed who it was...Y/n she looked paler than I remembered and eye bags were prevalent on her face. I heard the piano again it was louder than ever.

"Do you need to listen to music that loud?" I asked though it was harsher than intended. Her eyes widened and I held back a frown as I saw she was afraid. "S-sorry," she stood up quickly and ran off down the hall the music fading the further she got and I watched 'why was she afraid of me?' My eyes caught something on the floor which I turned to. Picking it up I realized it was a simple gold bracelet with a dinosaur charm on it.

"This is...," It was the bracelet id given her three years ago on her birthday. It was still in perfect condition looking like it did on the day I'd given it to her and it caused a small smile to pull at my lips as I pocketed the familiar bracelet.

Wednesday

Everytime I spotted the e/c eyed female in the hallway and approached her she would turn and run the music following her. Nobody ever seemed bothered by the piano it was almost like they didn't hear it and Y/n was never wearing headphones when it was playing. "Does she ever stop listening to that song?" I mumbled to myself as she ran away yet again.

"What song?" Yamaguchi asked next to me I furrowed my eyebrows as I looked at him. "What do you mean what song? That damn piano music she's always listening to it's annoying," I said and Yamaguchi’s eyes widened "Tsukki...She's not listening to any music...," He stated.

I blinked as I processed what that meant "No ive heard it-," Yamaguchi cut me off before I could continue he had a sad look in his eyes and as he spoke I realized why. "She's got Musicalia Tsukki...," He whispered as he looked at me. "She...She what?" I asked. "She's got Musicalia and if you can hear it that means...," my own eyes widened as I realized what he was implying. "Oh...,"

Thursday

Cornering someone who was avoiding you was much more difficult than you'd think. Everytime I ended up even in the same room as her she ran before I could even get near her. "Yamaguchi," I stated causing him to jump. "Yeah?" He nervously asked. "Can you convince Y/n to meet you on the roof?" I asked. He didn't ask any questions he just nodded mumbling a quiet yeah as the teacher walked in the room.

I stood on the roof looking out towards the gym. I heard footsteps come around the corner and stop before they slowly started backing away. "Can you stop running? I need to talk to you," I said. The footsteps stopped and I turned around. Y/n stood a few feet away nervously shuffling on her feet.

"When were you gonna tell me?" I asked and she sighed "Preferably never," She answered and I furrowed my eyebrows. "Never? This could kill you!" I took a step toward her while she took one back "So what?" She spit bitterly rasing her head up to glare. "So what? So everything!" I shouted.

"So everything? You dont even fucking like me! You made that pretty clear last year!" She yelled back. She was referencing an argument that I barely remembered and that she hadn't forgotten. "Do you even know what its like to have your heart crushed in seconds!?" She screamed. "You still should have told me you have Musicalia!" I glared back. 

She just gave me a bitter smile "I suppose my dear this was how it was meant to be," she stretched her arms out as she spoke and tears dripped down her face at a slow pace. "You dying isn't how it's supposed to be!" She only shook her head in response. I stuck my hand in my pocket and pulled out the bracelet. "Here...just take this back," I said holding it out. She walked forward and I heard that gentle and haunting music get louder.

She stopped closing my hand around the bracelet and leaning up to press a kiss against my cheek. "Keep it I won't have a use for it much longer," she mumbled before turning and walking off. "Y/n!" She stopped but didn't turn around and I continued speaking. "I love you," she sighed and turned her head. The sunset cast her in an ethereal glow and sparkled off the remaining tears on her face.

She gave a sad, watery smile in response. "No you don't Tsukki. If you did...You would have come back to me a lot sooner," she turned and left I knew she was right but god it hurt to hear her say that. My hand was still tightly closed around the bracelet the metal uncomfortably warm against my skin as she walked away from me.

Friday

She avoided me even more. I never saw her but I heard the music following around on occasion. After yesterday I had looked for the melody finally hearing it long enough to search for it. The results had told me the song was Clair De Lune I should have known. It was Y/n's favorite song though I doubted she liked it now.

I had tried to find her when I heard the music but even if I followed it I never found her. I was walking toward my locker keeping an ear out for that melody. As I opened the locker a f/c envelope fell out as I picked it up I noticed it was sealed with a gold wax stamp. Flipping it over my name was written on the front in flowing cursive. I put it away in my bag before heading to practice.

I flipped the envelope around in my hand staring at it before sighing. I pulled open the envelope and slipped the contents out. The first was a photo of me, Y/n, and Yamaguchi we were standing in the park in the photo. Y/n and Yamaguchi had their arms over eachothers shoulders while I stood in the background glaring towards the camera.

The other thing was a letter that I was hesitant to flip open. I knew the letter was from Y/n but I for the first time felt afraid on what she had to say. Sighing I opened the letter ready to read it.

Dear Kei,

It's been awhile hasn't it? Though That's what happens after fights. You give each other time to calm down and then you come back. Only this time...There is no coming back. You already know I have Musicalia and I'm sure you know I love you. It's weird to write that to someone you know doesn't love you.

Don't lie either. You don't love me the way I love you. You may think you do but if you had we would have been friends again by now. But you were perfectly content with not having me in your life so I know you'll be fine when I'm actually gone.

That's the issue isn't it? I'll be gone soon really, truly...gone. I'm not afraid knowing my death is approaching im...content and at peace with it. My death won't be glorious. I'm not going out with a bang. Or any final inspirational words. I'll go quietly in my sleep hopefully. Sleep however is hard when there's music constantly playing on loop in your head.

When I'm gone Kei...Will you visit me? Tell me about your day or the volleyball team! Yamaguchi told me about the team you should go easier on them. You should also learn from them you know? Anyways if you ever can't make it to me...Play Clair De Lune and I'll go to you! I'll listen to you talk at your place instead of you coming to mine!

I'm sure you know by now that this is my goodbye letter. Don't act so suprised of course I want to say goodbye to you. You're important to me you should know that. I've written this for awhile but I wanted it to be a good final goodbye since its immortalized forever in a letter. If you share this with anyone I'll kill you by the way. Even in death I still have a reputation. Anyway...

Goodbye Kei

I love you

—Y/n L/n

A month had passed since she said goodbye I moved forward even though it hurt to not see her around school. It almost felt like she moved but that imagine was ruined whenever I visited her grave. "Hey Tsukki I didn't know you liked dinosaurs!" I sighed in irritation my eyes flicking towards Kuroo who was pointing at my wrist.

"Wow that's cool!" Bokuto joined in and my eyes drifted to the golden bracelet around my wrist. "It's not mine," I stated drinking my water. "Whos is it?" Akaashi asked and I sighed again. "My friend Y/n’s...She's gone now and I'd rather not talk about it," I said standing up and heading back to the net. None of them said anything more about it and I was grateful for that.

Later that night I closed my eyes and played the song that I had grown very familiar with. It was quiet except for the soft melody playing through my headphones. While my eyes were closed I felt the familiar pressure on my body like someone was laying on my chest. If I listened through my headphones close enough I could almost hear her soft voice humming the song. 

I knew in my brain it was impossible but for now I let my heart believe that it was her. I talked quietly about anything and everything that came to mind. The team was sleeping so I knew I could talk freely most of them slept like they were in a coma. I sighed as I reached the end of my story before I spoke once more.

"I miss you Y/n,"

————————————————————————

TAGLIST: @wonhomarshmallow

[zmediaoutlet]

in support of Black Lives Matter, @aspiringmehood  donated $25, and requested ‘Sam/Dean, late seasons, dealing with Stanford.’ Thank you for donating!

to get your own personalized fic, please see this post. (no longer taking prompts)

Dean’s cooking--kind of, in that he’s stirring boxed pancake mix with some water--and Sam’s on the phone.

“No, I think that sounds great,” he’s saying. “Seems like the essay matters a lot depending on the school you’re hoping to get into, but your test scores and grades are obviously big, too. How did you do on the SAT?”

This isn’t a conversation that they’re on speakerphone for--Sam’s easy at the kitchen table, the phone to his ear and his laptop open in front of him, and when Dean turns around with the bowl of mix he looks at Sam’s shoulders, turned away, and chews the inside of his cheek, and puts butter on the griddle.

“Definitely,” Sam says, to something Dean can’t hear. He laughs, quietly. “I think Jody could probably do as well as I could, but let me know if you need more help. Sure thing.”

He hangs up, shakes his head. Dean pours a neat circle of batter onto the griddle, listens to the hiss. “How’s Alex?” he says.

“Applying to schools,” says Sam. Like that wasn’t obvious. He glances at Dean over his shoulder with a small smile, turns back to his laptop. “Jody made her call me because she was convinced she couldn’t get in anywhere with a sketchy school record. Think I proved her wrong.”

“Yeah,” Dean says, and looks down at the pancakes. Bubbles starting and soon it’ll be time to flip. “She’s smart.”

“Yeah,” Sam says, absently, and closes his computer, stands up. “Those’ll be done soon, huh?” he says, and at Dean’s nod he says, “Cool, I’ll be right back--just want to get something sent over to Alex before we eat,” and he’s gone, then, and Dean’s standing in the kitchen by himself, looking at pancakes, with no idea why his stomach feels as knotted up as it does. Except he does know, really. He flips the pancakes. It’s not worth thinking about.

It eats at him anyway. All day. Sam’s researching something-or-other to do with the Darkness, and Cas isn’t answering calls, and Dean--doesn’t have anything to do. He about drove himself into the ground, trying to come up with something, and Sam practically sat on him and told him he had to take some time away from it. They still don’t know what’s going on there, and going insane about it isn’t helping, and so he’s trying. He changes the oil in the Impala; he cleans the kitchen. He goes down to the shooting range and cores neat holes through the faceless targets and wants--a rot-eaten fence at the edge of the woods, and shooting up Coke bottles, and the sun beating down.

He takes a shower and when he goes to bed, Sam’s on the chair in his room, typing at something on his knees. “What are you doing?” Dean says, and Sam glances up at him, smiles at him in his pajama pants, but says, “Editing,” and when Dean frowns he clarifies: “Alex’s college essay. Apparently it’s too embarrassing to show Jody.” His eyes drop back to the computer screen and he shakes his head. “She’s got an interesting relationship with apostrophes.”

Dean doesn’t have anything to say to that. He didn’t know apostrophes were something you could have a relationship with of any kind. “You going to be done with English class in my bedroom any time soon?” he says instead, and Sam glances at him, shakes his head again.

“Yeah--sorry, just didn’t want to wait on it,” he says, and clicks something, and closes the laptop, dumps it on Dean’s dresser. He’s in pajamas too, that touchable washed-to-death shirt and the flannel pants Dean got him when his last pair got accidentally eaten by the dryer--Dean still maintains that that one wasn’t his fault--and when he climbs into bed he’s just--warm, and soft to the touch, and he settles like it’s natural against Dean’s back. Maybe it is natural for them, anymore. Ever since he got the mark off his arm they haven’t really bothered, with separate beds, and it’s--good. Better than Dean thought it’d be. He settles his head more comfortably on the pillow and Sam kisses the back of his neck, just--soft, not going anywhere with it, but it makes Dean’s gut tighten up anyway. Sappy bitch, he thinks, fondly, and then Sam sighs, slips his arm around Dean’s waist.

“She’s so excited, man,” he says. Dean opens his eyes, looks into the darkness on the opposite wall. “It’s kinda cool, you know? She had this screwed up life and now she gets to get out of it--make something of herself.”

“Lucky,” Dean says.

Sam huffs, obviously smiling. “Her version of this will be a little easier, though,” he says, “since she actually has--you know--a mailbox. No weird forwarding addresses and hoping she doesn’t miss an envelope. Seriously, lucky.”

Dean turns his face more into his pillow, doesn’t answer. It’ll be easier for her, too, he thinks, without having to hide every part of it from her family--for her not to have to pretend it’s not happening--and when she leaves--

He closes his eyes, feels Sam’s bulk all up against his back. He’s here. Here, and he swore he’d always be, and Dean has to believe that. If he doesn’t, then what’s the point?

Apparently it’s application season. Sam calls Alex again the next day, talks her through some of the things he suggests she might change in her essay. She doesn’t have her sights set on the stars--no Stanford or Harvard or MIT for her--but she’s still nervous, wants to get it right. Sam snorts, when he gets off the phone, says, “Claire says she hopes they’ve got hairdressing electives at Minnesota,” and Dean thinks, jesus, Claire. He shoves back, away from the table, and when Sam gives him a startled look he says, “Forgot, I was going to go to the store,” and it’s a shitty lie but it’s the only thing he can come up with in that second--imagining Claire and Jody, alone in the house, and how it feels when three people turns into two--and then because he’s said it he grabs his coat and gets into the car and drives into town, and he knows he’s being an absolute dumbass but it comes like this, sometimes, and he can’t help it.

He’s nearly calmed down, by the time he gets back. “Got beer,” he announces, which he did, and even crap for a salad for Sam, and stuff for burgers, and Sam helps him carry it into the kitchen and helps put it away, and then he grabs Dean by a jeans-pocket and traps him against the island with his hands on the counter either side of Dean’s hips, and he looks down at him square, and he says, “Why are you being weird?”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Pot-kettle, Sammy,” he says, and pushes at Sam’s stomach.

Sam doesn’t budge, though, and Dean looks away. “Dude, like I don’t know you,” Sam says. He resettles his hands on Dean’s waist, squeezes soft. “Is it--are you having dreams, again? About the Darkness?”

He is, but that’s not new. He could lie and say it was that. “Nah, I’m good,” he says, because he is--he really is, no matter how much of a spaz he’s being.

Sam doesn’t let him go, though, and Dean knows he’s frowning. “Then...” he starts, and seems to--get it, somehow, from Dean’s brainwaves or something, because he sighs and it sounds disappointed. “The college thing.”

“It’s no big deal,” Dean says, or tries to, because before he can really get the last word out Sam’s cupped his face in both hands and pulled him straight and is kissing him--shallow, precise like Sam can be sometimes--good enough that Dean grabs Sam’s hips, opens up to it, tilts. Sam’s mouth, taste of bitter coffee. Perfect.

When Sam pulls back it’s by a few inches, and when Dean opens his eyes Sam’s smiling at him, but it’s kind of--sad, or compassionate, or pitying maybe. Hard to tell. “You’re a bad liar,” Sam says.

True, lately. Still. “You’re a bad liar,” Dean retorts, and Sam rolls his eyes.

“Come here,” Sam says, and Dean doesn’t want to, but Sam tugs at his wrist and Dean follows him--out of the kitchen, into the hall, and then into Sam’s room, where Sam kicks off his boots and sits on the bed, and when he holds out his hand Dean takes it, and is drawn up to... sit in Sam’s lap, his knees spread around Sam’s hips.

Not a position he usually takes, at least when they’re dressed. He raises his eyebrows and Sam shrugs. “Trying some positive reinforcement,” he says, which doesn’t make any damn sense. The way he’s propped up against the headboard, Dean’s looking down at him, for once. Sam’s mouth lifts at one corner, his eyes all over Dean’s face. “Talk.”

“This is dumb,” Dean says.

“I agree,” Sam says, but he squeezes Dean’s hips, soft. “But something’s bugging you. The college thing? It’s just a kid going to college, man.”

Dean licks his lips. “I know,” he says, and he does. “Alex is smart to get your advice. You’re the expert.” He meant it to be light but it comes out--bitter, and Sam frowns. Fuck. Dean shakes his head. With how they’ve been he doesn’t want to be an asshole--they’ve been trusting each other, open, and he didn’t mean to screw it up. “I don’t mean--Sammy. It’s cool, it makes sense. I mean, you’re probably the only person who knows what she went through who also knows what they’re doing, with this kind of stuff. You’re doing a good thing.”

Sam looks up at him, eyes steady. “I know,” he says, after a minute. “But it’s got you thinking about--back then. When I left. Dean, that was--god, fifteen years ago or something.”

“I know,” Dean repeats, raw, and goes to push off Sam’s lap but Sam doesn’t let him. “Dude, give it up with the manhandling routine.”

“No,” Sam says, sitting up. He loops his arms around Dean’s waist and kinda smiles, in that Sammy way where it doesn’t so much look like a smile at all. “C’mon, man. You--seriously, do you still think about that?”

That night, in front of that busted-ass old house. Everything he’d been clinging to crashing down around his ears. Maybe not the worst night of his life anymore, but it’s still ranked. “It’s dumb,” he says, which he realizes a little too late is more revealing than maybe he wanted it to be, with how Sam’s face changes. “Sam, it’s no big deal.”

“You keep saying that,” Sam says, quiet, and one of his cheeks sucks in, like he’s gnawing at it. He keeps holding on, like Dean’s a flight risk or something, and it’s--nice, sort of. Close like this, outside of just sleeping or screwing. Sam takes a breath and Dean feels the way his chest expands. “It’s one of the best things I ever did. Going to school.”

Dean looks up at the ceiling, the slow-spinning fan.

“I got to just--live,” Sam continues. “Exploring the world, and figuring out what I liked. Meeting people who weren’t hunters and learning stuff that wasn’t just how to kill things. I mean, obviously I know now it wasn’t going to go anywhere--I was never going to be allowed to be a lawyer, or live a normal life like I thought I wanted, but. I still wouldn’t change it.”

Dean swallows, and tries to muster up how to be a man. “I get it,” he says, and--he does. This he knows how to be honest about. When he looks back down Sam’s still watching him, total focus, and he tries a smile. “You needed to get away. Grow up a little. Anyway, you and Dad were probably gonna shoot each other if you’d been cooped up together any longer.”

Sam snorts, leans back a little with his hands still locked at the small of Dean’s back. “Yeah, maybe,” he says. “So--it was important. But I don’t think I got until--way later. How much it screwed us up. That it screwed you up. That--I wish I could go back, sometimes. Fix that.”

Still watching. Sam’s whole laser-attention thing is annoying as hell, sometimes. “It was a long time ago,” he says, shrugging.

“Right,” Sam says, ironic. “That’s why you always think I’m gonna bolt the second there’s a pretty girl in a nice town, or there’s an ad for a college on TV.” Dean’s jaw clenches hard enough that his teeth kinda hurt and Sam shakes his head, but he slides his hands up Dean’s back, too, a long stroke, and lifts up to kiss the underside of his jaw, tender. “You know,” he whispers, “I’m taking an online class right now.”

Dean blinks. “What?”

“History of the Meiji Era in Japan,” Sam says. When he meets Dean’s eyes again he’s still smiling. “Undergrad elective through Michigan State. Really interesting stuff.”

“You never told me that,” Dean says. He shifts, in Sam’s lap, and does put a few more inches between them.

Sam sighs. “I know. Maybe--I don’t know. Didn’t want you to freak out. Can’t imagine why I thought that might happen.” Dean nearly shoves at his shoulder, then, and Sam catches his arm, reels him back in. “Sorry,” he says, and he actually does look kinda sorry. “I just don’t know how to convince you, man. You’re it, for me. No matter what kind of crap happens, or--whatever, how many planets fall down on our heads. It’s you and me, no matter what. A college class isn’t going to change that.”

“I know,” Dean says, and when Sam’s eyebrows crease uncertainly he shakes his head. “Dude. I really do. It’s--the same for me. You know that, right?”

“Come whatever,” Sam says, softly, and Dean dips his head then and kisses Sam first, gentle because--because they can afford that, now. With the promises they’ve made, and what those promises meant.

When he pulls back Sam looks gratifyingly pink, in the hollows of his cheeks, and Dean shrugs one shoulder. “I’m just screwed up, Sammy,” he says. “When it comes to you. Probably always will be.”

Sam smiles at him, lopsided. “Guess that comes with the territory,” he says. Dean snorts. Understatement. Sam licks his lips, looking up at him, and then--flips them, in the bed, rolling Dean underneath in a surge of show-offy muscle so that he’s propped up on his elbows, his body solid in the cradle of Dean’s body. He looks kind of smug about it, too, and Dean pinches his side and says, “show-off,” and Sam kisses him soft, doesn’t acknowledge it.

“Maybe if Alex needs her dorm room demon-proofed, we can both help,” he says, when he pulls back.

Dean tucks his hair back behind his ear, shakes his head. “We’ll teach her how to do it herself,” he says. “She’s supposed to be a college girl, right? She needs to learn.”

Sam nods. “Deal,” he says, warm, and kisses Dean again, and they move on then, to better things.

[sablelab]

Covert Operations - Chapter 107

SYNOPSIS: The fact that both of their operatives are injured at the moment poses several pressing problems for Madeline and Operations. So, the two Section leaders make their way to Medical to check on Jamie’s status and talk with his doctor about his prognosis. When Jamie is operated on to remove the bullet lodged in his shoulder Madeline gives the surgeons an ultimatum. Meanwhile, sometime later, Murtagh and Fergus also visit Med Lab to see their friends only to find that Jamie has been taken into surgery.

 Chapter 106 and all other previous chapters can be found at … https://sablelab.tumblr.com/covertoperations

THANK YOU. I appreciate everyone who has taken the time to read, like or reblog my story, and particularly for leaving your thoughts.  

 CHAPTER 107

Dougal Mackenzie’s gait was pronounced as with Madeline they walked away from a shell shocked Murtagh Fitzgibbons and made their way towards Medical. The scene that had just transpired had been most unexpected on many levels and Section’s leader was still smarting from Murtagh’s reluctance to accept his gesture of more time for his debrief. His munitions’ expert obviously expected there were strings attached. It wasn’t often that he showed any compassion and it had obviously sent him into a loop. Consequently, Operations looked forward to reading Geillis Duncan’s report as to the older operative’s performance as well as his account of the mission also. Having two different perspectives on what had happened would be most enlightening. In fact, depending on the outcome, it may very well influence any decision as to Murtagh being utilised in the field again in the near future.  His second concern was reluctantly for James Fraser’s status. His rapid decline had been out of the blue. So, what had really happened to him? How and why was he shot? Reading Jamie’s debrief when he was able to write it, may shed some light onto what had actually transpired but given his condition that could be in several days. Perhaps it was just a lucky shot by a hostile that had unfortunately had maximum effect. Thinking back over Jamie’s actions, Operations was not surprised by his operative’s reluctance to show that he was badly injured in any way. The Level 5 operative always gave the impression that he was impervious to frailty when his own wellbeing was brought into contention; however, the injury was obviously much worse than anyone had ever imagined or that he indeed was letting on. However, Fraser’s main concern had been for Claire Beauchamp. Operations scowled.

Madeline and he knew of his weaknesses for his partner and he’d demonstrated that openly in the way he’d acted tonight. Still, it was a major concern of theirs that this relationship would affect Jamie’s performances in the field. They expected nothing short of perfection from their Level 5 cold operative. They couldn’t let anything or anyone interfere with their plans for him. Hence it was something they needed to monitor more closely but right now they wanted to check on his condition. Despite their differences with Jamie over the years his value as an operative remained strong. They could ill afford to lose him right in the middle of a crucial mission.  Madeline too was debating with her own mind’s counsel.

The fact that Jamie was injured and may take time to recover as well as Claire’s need for rehabilitation posed several pressing problems for her and Dougal. Section One had come so far in tracking down the Rising Dragons triad members and she knew it would not be long until Sun Yee Lok was himself captured and brought to justice. However, there would be the added problem with Claire if Jamie didn’t pull through … they may well have a blithering mess on their hands with her. Would she be able to recover from his death? … She didn’t need to answer that question, she already knew the answer.  There were no two ways about this … There was only one scenario that was feasible and she would accept no other. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Both leaders of Section were mulling over in their minds a contingency plan if indeed Jamie didn’t make it through the operation yet neither of them wanted to voice them out loud. Madeline however, did broach the subject that was uppermost in her thoughts.

“What are you going to do about the Rising Dragons’ mission Dougal?” He looked at her and raised his eyebrow in query. “What do you mean?” She said only one word. “Jamie.” “What? ... If he dies?” ... Why don't you tell me?”  “James Fraser is strong. He won’t die,” was her pragmatic reply.  “Besides, I have faith in the medical team.”  He smiled at her optimism. “I can see that you’ve made up your mind Madeline.” “He’s too valuable to Section at the moment. He'd be too hard to replace.”  Operations looked at his second in command for a minute reflectively, “Yes, there aren't many like him.”  Echoing his sentiments on their Level 5 operative, she confirmed his qualities. “He’s good. He and Claire together are quite good.” “They’ve performed well on this mission so far ... we can ill afford to lose him.” “Yes ... then there would be the added problem of Claire if we do.” “Exactly. The odds still aren't good, are they?” “No ... I don’t think so.”  “But if there is one chance in three that he will survive?” “Then it’s good odds.”  “I want Fraser to live. I am human after all.” “Really? Are you sure it’s not because we are so close to capturing Sun Yee Lok?” Aggrieved by her off-the-cuff comment Operations stopped walking and looked at his second in command. “Are you saying I have ulterior motives?” “No.” “Oh … then I obviously lack compassion!” “No ... you lack the good judgement that comes from having a small dose of it Dougal.” “What about the compassion I’ve shown from time after time? Let me guess: you want to make a point.” Not necessarily ... but compassion is a weakness you have continually frowned upon in Claire ... yet you showed some to Murtagh this evening. Did you mean it?” “Of course I meant it!” “You’re a ruthless man, Dougal Mackenzie. And that's good. It’s good for Section One and all the operatives to know where you stand. You do your job with clarity and I respect that. But you threw Fitzgibbons for a loop. It may take him a while to come to terms with that.” Operations grinned complacently. “I like to keep people unbalanced.”  “True … but don’t shoot the messenger. I think it’s a good thing for the reasons you’ve said.” “Good ... well what are we arguing about then?” “I don’t know ...” Madeline gave him an enigmatic smile. “Jamie and Claire?”  “I want to know how his condition will affect them and in turn us.” “Jamie is not a threat to us at the moment, on the contrary he is vulnerable and it appears as if his condition is touch and go at the moment.”  “But he could be.” “Not if we play our cards right. Fortunately, even the best have weaknesses. We must not misjudge him for it will result badly for us.” “And we wouldn’t want that … would we?” “I’m sure we’ll keep on top of it.” “I expect nothing less of you Madeline.” “It will be a while until both of them are back to their peak condition, so if Jamie pulls through they will need some downtime to recuperate. We can plan our next course of action then.” “So be it. We've been through worse.”  Operations smiled and nodded at Madeline then they continued on towards Medical.  ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ The two leaders entered the Infirmary and immediately made for the area where they saw curtains drawn around two cubicles.  “How are they doing Dr Foster?” “Not so good ... especially James Fraser. He’s fading in and out of consciousness but we're put him through every conceivable test we can.” “Is there a problem?” “Jamie’s X-rays show that the bullet is lodged in his chest. There are also fragments of bone as the bullet shattered his clavicle,” the doctor replied in answer to their question.   “I see.” “How did this happen?” Jeremy Foster glanced anxiously at the two leaders. “It appears he was shot from an acute angle, probably from above. The bullet entered the shoulder and passed through to lodge in the chest area. He’ll need immediate surgery to remove it ...”

Judging by his worried look they suspected the physician was holding back information. “Is there something you’re not telling us doctor?” “Jamie’s lost a lot of blood … he’ll need to be transfused during and possibly after the operation but …” Madeline and Operations gave each other a quick glance then interjected before he could finish. “Do you have enough supplies on hand for a blood transfusion?” “We have a few units of Jamie’s blood left, but if he needs more than we have in stock we could be in trouble.”  The situation could become grim and Doctor Foster knew it. There were no guarantees that Jamie would need less blood units than they had available. It was better to have an abundance than a shortage especially if the Level 5 operative had complications from the surgery. He forged ahead and broached the subject area even he had no knowledge of.

“We’ll need to know the donors of his blood type so that arrangements can be made for them to donate blood if it’s required.” “That Intel is classified … you’ll have to work with the supplies you’ve already got.” Operations stated categorically putting a stop to any further conversation on the matter. Jeremy Foster tried to interject, “But …” “Operations and I will make those arrangements if and when they are needed.”

Madeline was adamant in her statement that only they would disclose that information if it was essential or indeed necessary. They had a reluctance to share with Dr Foster the intricacies of Jamie’s blood type and had made the decision to have his details suppressed. Except for the head surgeon, Medical personnel were on a need-to-know basis, and if Med-Lab had enough units of blood to see them through then so be it. Classified information about their key operatives was classified for a reason. Should Intel leak out to their enemies that James Fraser had a rare blood group or any intel about his DNA then he could be in a vulnerable position. This Intel could be used against him should he be captured; hence they couldn’t risk him being compromised in any way. However much they may regret their decision towards the physician, they stood by it. If the situation became dire then they would make contingency plans, but until then they would leave it as the status quo. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Knowing that Section’s leaders would not budge on classified Intel about James Fraser, his hands were tied. “Very well … I’ll inform Dr Khan. He’s been paged and is on his way.” “Good. We’ll be in the observation room. Have him see us before he preps for any operation.” “Yes sir.” With that directive, Operations and Madeline left Medical for the surgical viewing area where they could observe the medical team in action. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ A little while later, Murtagh and Fergus quietly approached the glass-paned doors of Medical and peered in through the panels, however, they were unable to see clearly, so when the automatic doors opened they entered and stood side by side and looked around. Their eyes strained to see if they could see either Jamie or Claire, but they were nowhere to be seen. It was evident though; that a flurry of activity was going on around them once they were inside the room. They could hear the sound of voices coming from some cubicles where the curtains were drawn. Edging closer, Murtagh and Fergus made their way to the partitions in which they thought the two operatives were obviously being attended to in the hope of eavesdropping to find out any information.  The sound of a curtain opening caused the two men to jump back as if caught with their hand in the cookie jar. Guiltily, they turned their heads and looked up. A Med-Lab doctor emerged with a trolley of medical equipment and monitors.  Murtagh was the first to speak. “Hey Doc … It must be pretty crazy back there.”  Caught unawares he looked up to find the two men standing there. “What! ... What are you doing here?” The doctor snapped as he looked at Murtagh then Fergus.  Innocently Murtagh replied as they followed him, “Come on Doc give us a break. We came to check on Jamie and Claire.” “How are they?” Fergus added as they watched the doctor reorganise the trolley with a fresh supply of materials. Knowing that Fitzgibbons had been on the mission to rescue Claire and where Jamie had been injured, he took sympathy on the pitiful twosome. “They’re both not out of the woods yet.” Murtagh looked over to the shrouded partitions. His face had a far-away expression, thinking about what was happening inside the cubicles with his two friends. “Will Jamie be okay? The medics said he was barely alive.”  Dr Foster stopped what he was doing and replied, “Had it not been for your swift actions earlier we may have lost him.” “Oh my god!” Fergus gushed out loud.  “Can we see him?” “That’s not possible. The medics have taken him to surgery.” “What? ... Jamie’s in surgery?” “Yes.” “Was there a problem?”  ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Digesting the meaning of his words, Murtagh eyed the doctor with an uneasy glance while preparing himself for the worst-case scenario. This couldn’t be happening. James Fraser was strong ... what had gone wrong? He was very worried. Beside him Fergus too was uneasy.  Jeremy Foster studied their expressions. He weighed up his options and finally came to the decision that telling them something was better than making them worry all night or more to the point staging a vigil until the morning. “As you know, Jamie wasn’t in a good condition when he arrived, but the medical staff moved swiftly to see that he got to surgery A.S.A.P.”  He then looked from one man to the other. However, there was something in the doctor’s eyes that made the older operative wary. “I see ...”  Fergus held his breath, then asked the question they were both thinking. “He’s not going to die, is he?”  Murtagh tried to assuage some of the tension. “Of course, he’s not going to die you dolt! This is James Fraser we’re talking about Fergus. But I guess if someone wants to die, one reason is as good as another. Personally, being in love always made me want to live … Jamie will want to live,” he added enigmatically.  Dr Foster had a slight smile on his face seeing the banter between the two friends. “No ... We’re doing our best to see that doesn’t happen. Dr Khan is performing emergency surgery at the moment to remove the bullet from his shoulder.” Although his words were reassuring, when Murtagh looked at the doctor he realised that he was holding back. “You’re not telling us everything ... are you?” ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Madeline and Operations stood in the observation deck overlooking the Infirmary. Below them James Fraser was lying on a table surrounded by the operating team who were to perform the emergency surgery. As the two observed the medical staff’s preparation for Jamie’s operation their thoughts turned to when he had first come into Section ...  Madeline ever the strategist was pragmatic in her assessment of their Level 5 cold operative. 

James Alexander Malcolm Mackenzie Fraser brought into Section One 10 years ago, graduated training 9 months early; moved directly to Level 3. His continual ascent within Section was due not only to his tactical and strategic abilities, but his primal approach. He had always shown an otherworldly disregard for his own well-being. More than anyone else, Jamie had been true to the highest principles that define this organization.  She saw similarities in Jamie that paralleled her own ideals for there was nothing she would not do for the Section. His rise within the ranks was meteoric and well deserved. Jamie had been groomed as a potential leader, but ever since Claire’s arrival he’d changed. The changes were very subtle and not that noticeable but to her trained eye the relationship between the operatives was one that concerned her. Tonight, James Fraser had given her much to think about.  Operations’ eyes scanned the operating theatre too where Section’s best operative lay at the mercy of the medical team. Although Jamie and he had not always seen eye to eye, he was nonetheless proud of his skill as a cold operative. Time and again the younger man had pulled off the impossible on missions to reach the end game. His ruthlessness, ability and leadership qualities were to be commended but at the same time were cause for apprehension too for James Fraser was the penultimate Section One operative.  He was a born leader and one day he would run Section ... one day he would have Command and the power. They’d noticed that when he had power Jamie changed. He certainly revelled in it ... he liked it. Power could do that, even for a man as strong as James Fraser. But did he need power? He really didn’t have a choice to turn it down when he’d been offered command from time to time when he had to leave Section. Maybe Jamie’s need for power was part of his strength. All he had to do was wait ... it would come. He still had a lot to learn, but were they creating someone who may usurp their leadership before his time? He was a good leader. Operatives respected him and he was a man among men who was esteemed.   In many ways James Fraser was better than they were. That in itself was a worry. He lived by the ideals of Section One but since Claire Beauchamp had become his material both he and Madeline had noticed a slight change in him. It had been building gradually and their collaboration on missions only fuelled the bond that had developed between them. The question was ... how much did it affect their performance? If Jamie was in any way reckless ... he would fail and his failure would destroy his career. He would then have no hesitation in placing Jamie in abeyance.

Dougal Mackenzie glanced over at his second in command. Madeline’s slightly raised eyebrow was the only indication that they may have been having similar thought waves. While they’d been observing James Fraser in the operating theatre the two Section One leaders had unwittingly opened a minefield of much food for thought.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Madeline and Operations turned when they heard the door open behind them. The head surgeon Dr Khan entered and approached. “You wanted to see me?” “Yes ... How’s he doing?” “Not too good at the moment.” “What’s the problem?” “The bullet is deeper than we thought and the trajectory route is just millimetres from a vital organ. It is a more delicate operation than we first thought.” “I see. And what is your prognosis?” The head surgeon looked from Operations to Madeline and pragmatically answered their question. “I'm sorry, but he may not make it. He’s lost too much blood. He may not pull through. If we need to put him on life support, will you be making that decision?” It was Madeline who responded. “I already have. I've decided he's going to recover. His will to live is very strong. Your will to save him has to be strong, too.” She paused. “I'll help you.”  Dr Khan took a while to digest what she was actually saying but he certainly caught the gist of Madeline’s underlying words. It was not until she continued that he understood the full implication of what she had spoken and he began to shake in his boots. Madeline then calmly pulled out a gun, cocked it and held it up against the surgeon’s head. A sudden fear and uncertainly crossed Dr Khan’s face as he waited for whatever Madeline would say next.  “Go back inside.” She took a breath before continuing. “Tell your colleagues to do the possible ..., then the impossible ..., and then the unthinkable, until he's out of danger. Because ..., when you're finished, Doctor ..., that room will contain either four living men ... or four corpses. Do you understand?” He understood perfectly. Jamie Fraser was Section One’s best operative but he was still surprised at the length that Madeline had gone to in order to keep him alive.

“Okay.” The surgeon left the observation desk in fear and trepidation and relayed the message to his surgical team. Collectively they cast their eyes up to the observation room to see the penetrating gazes of their leader and his second in command. They were under no illusion as to what the operating team needed to do. Madeline had given the doctors their ultimatum and if James Fraser didn’t pull through, they knew the consequences.  They needed to pull off the impossible. They needed a miracle.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ to be continued on Friday 20th

[universal-kitty]

   Harvest Moon & Story of Seasons: To the Ones I’ve Loved (and Have Crushed On, In Some Form or Another)

   This will be under the cut, because there are a LOT of games to address!

Cliff: More Friends of Mineral Town/DS Cute

One of my lovetime faves from the series! I related to him, what with us both being shy and needing help a lot from the people around us. Look at how cute he is when he blushes!! Whenever I play DS Cute, he’s always my first option.

(He also likes grapes. Always a good choice.)

Gray: More Friends of Mineral Town/DS Cute

I...have complicated feelings for Gray, honestly. On one hand, he’s never stood out too much to me, for some reason. He’s a fun enough character- a gruff grandson of the local blacksmith, who softens up over your relationship with him- but he never caught my eye as someone I’d wish to chase down as much as, say, Cliff.

But at the same time, I have many fond memories of calling him “Uma Boy” (because of his hat) and it’s cute?? It has “childhood friends to lovers” vibes that still makes me hesitate when I want to say I- supposedly- have no interest in him...

Karen: Friends of Mineral Town/HM DS

While I prefer her art design to this one (the one with her two-toned hair), I adore this bachorlette regardless! A part of it her design, but the other part of it her assertive nature... After all, when I’m not looking to grow together with someone, I’m looking for someone who will help me come out of my shell! (Even if I must be dragged out, which Karen would certainly do.)

Marlin: DS Cute

Gosh... I remember overlooking a lot of bachelors back in the day. I was admittedly kinda shallow as a kid, so I easily looked over plenty of fine guys in favor of the “prettier” ones...ignoring my vague interest in the girls. However, in my endless attempts to see all heart events (cheat codes, babey!)....I ended up really liking Marlin. More than I thought I would.

He’s sickly, but determined to make it on his own. Hating that he’s babied, but acknowledging the fact that being sick is kinda scary for the family who looks after him, his elder sister, Vesta (owner of a popular farm in Forget-Me-Not Valley), and their hired help, Celia.

He blushes cute, is cute, and though I never married him in game, I did consider it. He’s doing his best and is so damn supportive...

Celia: HM DS

Speaking of Celia-!! Talk about one of my earlier girl-crushes! I had feelings for her that I could never pin down, because I didn’t hate her or anything, but I didn’t quite....friend-like her, either. Apparently, it’s because I’m panromantic af. Who would’ve guessed?!

Anyways. She’s cute, oblivious like me, and just as hardworking as Vesta, with all the kindness to look after Marlin w/o taking away his agency and wanting to help others.... Basically, I’m saying that if I F/O any one of these two, the other is coming with. Farming power throuple.

Flora: HM DS

(Belated sidenote that HM DS and DS Cute are the same game, but Different Gender. Natsume was slow on that one for a long while.)

Flora was yet another one of those ladies that I liked, but didn’t know it was because I was actually p gay. Whoops! Anyways, you see this lovely lass working on site with Carter (an older bachelor, for those who have a Type for older men). They’ve been working on this mine site, because...I think there’s some archeological finds down there? It’s been a long time since I played, so I don’t remember much!

....However, strong woman in a tank top and shorts make me a happy, fluster gay and her hair looking as fluffy as it does only intensifies it. (Ah, to lovingly brush off the dust and mud from her face from a long day at work... Clean her glasses for her while she cleans up... [dreamy sigh])

Skye: DS Cute

(oh god, I wrote his name as Skype accidentally, oH NO) Another bachelor I really liked during the early days....though for a long time, it was a toss up on if I Liked him or liked him [to pair with an OC]. While I did eventually pair him with an OC (Claire, the blonde MC option for DS Cute), there’s still a fondness in my heart for him...

And a plot twist, now... His “chick beam” ain’t gonna work on someone who’s not a girl~!

Muffy: HM DS

She’s just....cute. And hardworking. Flirty. The girl at the bar not only helping serve up drinks (to the best of her abilities; she’s learning), but a fun time! Definitely a bit of the stereotypical femme, but good gosh, I’d never want her any other way. Literally the only problem I’d have is I get uncomfortable around drunk people (past issues, fear of potential addictive personality, and drunk ppl are usually Loud People).

Otherwise, I’d love to be supportive of Muffy, her dreams, and how damn cute she looks!! (And relate to fears of getting our hearts broken, but oooohhh it’s got fic potential, that does.)

Keira: HM DS

This lovely lady is not only one of the early-day, special bachelorettes, but mute, as well! Her voice was taken away by the Witch Princess and (with no in game way to get it back for her) she communicates by writing on a board.

....Basically, I want to learn sign language with her and create a peaceful house with her and maybe a bunch of cats. Purrhaps.

Jamie: Magical Melody

(I was no longer able to get sprites/icons from this point forward, sorry!!) This game. Is so difficult...and go figure the one I like the best is the hardest possible spouse to woo! Complete the game, ship out at least one of EVERY crop, have owned one of every animal (at some point), and etc. Oh. My goddess. THE AMOUNT OF WORK TO MARRY SOMEONE YOU CAN’T EVEN KEEP!!!!

....Yeah, uh. All that work and the game resets. No post-marriage bliss for the PC and Jamie. (Who is apparently genderfluid.) I.....augh. In the end, it’s not even their nearly-toxic, tsundere personality that drives me up the wall.... It’s the fact that I can’t marry them and have it stay that way unless I want to write a bunch of fanfiction about it. :/

Meanies. Making me write out all this stuff myself...

Ray: Magical Melody

I feel sorry to say it, but I will: When I learned the game wouldn’t let the player marry Jamie permanently, I sought out someone else...and found comfort in Ray. He’s a well-known fisher and- apparently- has a timeslot on the TV for talking about fishing, too.

It’s a very fish-based lifestyle, but I guess that’s why I play as a farmer, right~? We can bring some variety in to the meal table! (Also, he’s a shy guy. What a cutie~)

Chase: Animal Parade

The reason I got into playing this game....and then everything else solidified my reasons to play forevermore! And to this day, Animal Parade is my favorite HM/SoS game of all time. (Literally the only thing that could’ve made it more perfect would be changing hairstyles/colors... Oh, and gay marriage. Gimme that too, pls.)

ANYWAYS, this asshole is tsundere as hell and a prickly pear, but.... If you can fight past it to befriend him, he’s pretty fun and....I guess dedicated to his work, is the best way I can phrase it. He’s still very much not too “soft” even after marriage (though he can be pretty damn cute), but... Basically, imagine Gordon Ramsey in a dating sim, complete with a redesign. Pretty accurate description of Chase.

I ship him more w/ an OC I have than myself, buuuut he’s still precious to me. In a dorky, tsundere way. (Also, I think about the OC I ship him with all the time... That whole save file was me being dedicated to marrying this man, from the name of the farm to the crops I sold. Goodness!)

Wizard: Animal Parade

The husband. Of all time. Not just for his looks, but also his sweet, quiet, gentle personality. Wizard (who’s real name is not revealed until you marry him) speaks in many ellipses.....some longer...than others.... But he’s also a stargazer. Oh, and implied to be long-lived. Y’know. Things to break your heart with.

I simply cannot put into words how much I adore him. I originally played this game to marry Chase (as I mentioned above), but it was Wizard who stole my heart. He’s been on my F/O list ever since and it’s there he’ll stay!

Harvest King: Animal Parade

One who actually used to be on my F/O list, but I removed him because I thought feelings had faded.....haha, fool. Nobody escapes the king. (Or, well, Harvest God, but y’know. Translation avoiding mentions of “god” and all.)

Honestly, I didn’t know how to feel about him aside from “I like his design” for a long while. He’s got a lot of elements that are aesthetically pleasing to me, but w/o good characterization to back him up... What’s left? (Plus, him not living at home with the PC kinda sucked. Was being a single parent really gonna be okay with me...?)

What ended up breaking my heart and reviving it all at once was his 20 heart line. “After you are gone… I shall love what you loved… I shall sing the songs that you sang.”

He is immortal. He must stay atop the mountain, only able to watch...sneak away, perhaps, when he can. He sees the inevitability of the PC’s death...and fuck. It hurts in the most bittersweet way. To imagine him, alone, years upon thousands of years after they are gone.....and yet, remember them so well. Perhaps still distantly watch over what becomes of his family line...

To love this man is to experience the love and pain of mortal/immortal couples, and- truly- know what the phrase means: “To love and have lost is better than to never love at all.”

Harvest Goddess: Animal Parade

There are many incarnations of the Goddess throughout the HM/SoS series, but this one from AP is a forever fave from me. Her design is gorgeous on so many levels (the looping braid, the ombre in her hair color, her outfit, the wing-like extensions on her back, the large hoop bracelets, etc), her face looks so kind and.......breathtaking beyond words--

And much like Wizard and Harvest King before her, she has a name she can only share with you after marriage. And having that detail be a part of her marriage ceremony is what hits a little harder, I feel. It feels so much more personal to have a name that isn’t just “Harvest Goddess” to call her. (I’m pretty sure some of the other games have done this, too? But again, I personally prefer this iteration!)

....If I ever were to ship with her, I honestly feel like I’d have to do an OT3 w/ Harvest King. He’s a prickly bastard and Harvest Goddess here would likely roll her eyes at him many a time, but... Considering their understanding and eventual love of mortal life, I’d say they could reach an agreement someday.

Toby: Animal Parade

Gosh. Another character I didn’t think much of until later... I wanted to do an LP of Animal Parade and- for the occasion- got obsessed with a new OC to focus on; I named her Elise and framed everything after her around musicians and songs. (Because her name was a reference to Fur Elise.) Of course, I then had to think of who she’d marry....

Toby was not only an option for her, but quickly caught my interest as easily as he caught fish. Though it might’ve helped that he reminded me of another, old anime crush!

Anyways, much like he appears, Toby is a laid back young man. He spends his days happily enjoying his hobby- fishing (he isn’t employed, despite his family owning a business)- and soaking up nature. His heart events reflect this, musing about the tranquility of nature and enjoying the silence and relaxation of fishing. (There’s also a few occasions where he opens his eyes... The color of them is SO pretty!)

And if you marry him? Traditional Japanese wedding attire. He looks so handsome in it~!

Candace: Animal Parade

I just....really like shy girls. And Candace especially makes me feel SO MANY warm fuzzies. Has high social anxiety, but prefers her time be spent in her family’s shop, Sonata Tailoring. She’s a talented worker, and with her grandmother’s help and sister’s guidance, it’s become quite the fashion hotspot! (Well.... Perhaps it’ll do far better after the PC helps heal up the island some more, y’know? The place isn’t doing so hot without help from the Harvest Sprites!)

ALSO, I really, really love her big hair and outfit... Her big braids look so soft and she looks incredibly cozy in her cardigan... Honestly, the cardigan, button up shirt, and skirt alone work together to put together the image of someone shy, yet warm in both personality and in being! (...But I bet her fingers get cold... Gee, suppose I could do something about that...?)

Precious. 100/10, would love to kiss her cheek softly and make her blush while snow falls outside, but we’re in my warm home with a big puppy and the fireplace going.

Vaughn: Island of Happiness/Sunshine Islands

Heehee, tiny. Anyways, meet cowboy husband! Fond of farm animals, his work (delivering farm animals to the island)....and that’s about it. Not really too thrilled about other people, but his whole arc is about warming up to you, anyways, so. It’s one of those, fksjfkls.

He’s REALLY cute, though.... I wish I had more memories w/ him, but I lost the OG file where I married him and we had a kid, so. Heck. :)

William Terry Louis Andrew Carrick Jonathan Dredge Hams Redding Rodger Southwark Alnwick Plymouth Junior Regison III: Sunshine Islands

Yes. Yes, I did need to write out his full name. I married this man and if I have to process that this is my husband’s full name, you do, too. (Seriously, why did they make his name so long?!) This man’s long name aside...

Not only is he your typical rich boy (complete with Big Boat), but he’s also....a prince! Bet you woulda never seen that coming... (And yes, he does have a white horse that he rides around occasionally.) I know I’m roasting him, here, but he deserves it. A little bit. Maybe. Totally not because I can still feel the distant effects of this man flustering me in the past...

(He’s so charming and he has some misguided moments, but goodness, he is just Pure of Heart, Dumb of Ass. I love him.)

Lily: Sunshine Islands

Visiting treasure hunter, adorkable, and with a way of finding her next great adventure. She’s so lively! And lovely! Maybe she should look into a mirror and find out the great treasure of all is herself!!!

Okay, that was pretty cheesy.

Regardless, she’s a delight, I love her character, and any jealousy I might’ve had towards her in the past? Gone for deep feelings of, “Let me love you and let’s create the greatest treasure collection of all~!”

Angelo: Grand Bazaar

I remember Angelo not quite being my first choice when I got Grand Bazaar. He seemed adorable, and having another artist around is always a plus, but... I simply wasn’t sure if I should go through with it. Would he impress me that much?

...In the end, he did. I remember being with my cousins when I stumbled into his final heart event, freaking out and hurrying to write it down! (I had a habit of writing down the dialogue to every heart event I witnessed. I have some of them still, to this day!)

He’s far more of a well-rounded artist than I am, but I think that’s just another thing to love about him. Well, that, and a difficulty handling people when he needs them to stop! (It’s relatable, is what I mean; telling people off- even if you really need to- is hard! Especially when it’s a kid!) He’s just....a ton of fun at the end of the day. And that fluffy hair...... You know I love it~!

Emiko: Grand Bazaar

I never got to meet Emiko, to my memory. I didn’t play Grand Bazaar a lot, nor for too long, as the learning curve for the bazaar was steep. (I wasn’t much one for learning recipes, and then they wanted me to learn how to peddle my wares?! And sometimes, it went by so fast!!! It was super overwhelming...) However, she’s a special bachelorette, so getting to meet her at all would’ve been a surprise/struggle for the me who fought trying to learn the bazaar alone...

Looking on her here and now... She. Is. Adorable. Hard to woo, but a secret shrine-area behind the waterfall? The last heart event is letting her see the world for herself...? I love that so much. Getting to re-experience the world through a new view is something I treasure dearly, and Emiko is just that...along with being super adorable. I harp on it because it’s true!!

Maybe someday, if I try the game again with more success... I’ll play as a guy just to court Emiko.

Cam: Tale of Two Towns

Literally the reason I bought this game in the first place, LMAO! He looked really cute and hearing that he worked at a flower shop? How could I ever resist?! The scene was set up for adorableness and potential romance (based around flowers) and so I was eagerly swept away~!

And he does live up to that sweet, charming air...while also being a bit social anxious; how relatable!

Kana: Tale of Two Towns

I haven’t played this game in forever, but if there was anything to ever remember about it..... Kana is a himbo. This man works with horses, so he is strong. Respects women. His dummy part kicks in because this man rarely thinks of anything else except horses (we stan this man and his hyperfixation). You can befriend him with gifts of horse treats.

Marrying this man is marrying him AND getting a free horse-sister out of it (her name is Hayate) and with arms like that? What a dream come true, on all sides.

Nori: Tale of Two Towns

Local seamstress and assistant to her grandfather at his seed shop. Honestly... She kinda reminds me of myself. Although while I’ve quieted down in some ways, I’ve stayed lively in others! I mostly just need friends around to bring my energy up, instead of producing it fresh, myself, ehehe.

But seriously... Her kindness goes above and beyond, perfectionist anxiety is relatable, and it just...sounds nice to put together a life with her. Helping others, helping each other, helping ourselves. Wow.

Reina: Tale of Two Towns

The botanist who- much like someone else- hyperfixates on her work until the world around her is white noise. While it is a shame to feel like you’re not being listened to and your S/O is lost in her work... Honestly, the thought of learning about plants from her has me losing it. Also, a home filled with perfectly cared-for plants? MAJOR serotonin.

It’s like.....the ideal cottagecore couple, just with more farming involved. (Personally, for me, the image of cottagecore has always been small, personal gardens and not the sprawling estate of land-for-crops (and animals!) that HM puts out.) One of us will be making cute journals...or maybe it’s both of us? She does aesthetic research journals and I do cute, personal ones? With poems and such?

UGH. Just call me a simp and get it over with.

Sanjay: A New Beginning

Do I even have to say it? How fast I fell for this man? Because I shouldn’t. I’m incredibly predictable with my tastes and they will likely never change.

Anywho. Butler to Amir (another potential bachelor), but all I wanted was this soft-hearted, gentle man who looks out for everyone, is incredibly kind and friendly, and loves tea a whole bunch. His long hair, put into a braid.... [sighs dreamily] How ever am I going to cope...?

I never did finish ANB, but I want to! Because this man is SO HANDSOME and I wanna put a ring on it. (Sorry, Amir! You might need to employ someone else! Thanks, bye!)

Inari: Trio of Towns

This one came from a recommendation, one I wasn’t at all expecting...and now I’m “stuck” with this one. And don’t want them to let go.

They remind me of two previous spouses already on the list: Harvest King/Goddess and Jamie. The latter for their gender being undefined until marriage (where the game will then either dress Inari up in masculine marriage clothes or feminine marriage clothes, to be the opposite gender to the PC). The former checks out in that- like them and many other special candidates- Inari will not live at home with the player. It breaks my heart, but the reward itself is seeing this lovely fox deity learn how to love, to be willing to put their heart on the line, and even have a child.

I couldn’t be happier to be introduced to this game in such a way. Consider my first save slot dedicated to you, darling kitsune~! (And a spot for you on the F/O list sometime soon, too!)

Yuzuki: Trio of Towns

“I won’t fall in love with another bachelor,” I lied, lyingly. “I will just be in love with Inari. Nobody else.” A fool, I was. Predictable, as all times before. I read a little too much into a character....and suddenly, a proposal comb is being slapped into my hand. Dammit!

Being the fan-favorite occasionally helps my interest in certain characters, but what always gets me in the end...is that personality. Oh, and does Yuzuki deliver... Not only is he a kind, supportive man with his own business, but said business is making hairpins! His grandmother usually helps model them, but more and more during your romancing does your PC model for him, instead. (Literally the first piece you model he made SPECIFICALLY with you in mind, oh my god.)

But wait! There’s more! Being a model that knocks him breathless...and shows a surprising bit of ego. (Not a bad thing, but definitely not a vice I was expecting from him!) So many cute lines. Goodness.

....I admittedly just watched the heart/flower events, so I’m SOFT.

[siribear]

whisper rides the high, like the first time she took a hit with rachel and shooting stars streaked across their apartment. there’s a dull buzz still simmering in the back of her mind, probably from the electrodes shocking her into kellogg’s memory, but it’s pleasant. calming. much more than stewing in kellogg’s head, slipping into his skin and feeling the recoil each time he pulled the trigger. seeing nate alive for the last time through kellogg’s eyes -

she stumbles a half-step. deacon’s hand in hers keeps her steady. no, she isn’t thinking about it. deep breath. focus on shaun. focus on the memory of her golden blonde hair, of nate’s bright blue eyes. god, shaun - he’s not a baby anymore. a full ten years, and he already looks so much like nate she could cry.

she won’t, though. can’t. and she can stand to lose ten years only because he looked so... happy. content, even, with his comics spread across kellogg’s floor, that quiet domesticity that makes her heart ache. he was happy. and he’s alive, for certain. and she’s got a way to find him.

god. ask her to jump and she’ll fly.

the main room is still empty of customers, and even irma has taken the rest of the night off. dr. amari has since moved on, leaving nick near the entrance to sit alone on a loveseat. he barely acknowledges them coming from the back. not even a raise of his head.

he obviously doesn’t feel the same kind of elation she does. what did he see in there? did he live it like she did?

focus.

deacon draws up beside her, not letting go of her hand even now. ‘i’m gonna go put together a report for des,’ he says. ‘take it easy for a little bit. first time in the memory pod is a little - disorienting.’

disorienting? no, she feels fine. like she can take on a deathclaw with her bare hands, no power armor needed. watch out world. ‘okay,’ is what she says, though, muffled like her mouth is filled with cotton.

he takes a few steps forward, their hands still joined, and when he pulls away, her arm falls limp to her side. ‘take care of yourself, nick,’ deacon says, again to no response. with a look to her and a shrug, he leaves.

the door to the memory den opens and closes, leaving just her and nick. she takes the spot next to him on the loveseat. ‘thank you for this,’ she says, slowly forming the words in her mouth. thinking is fast, train of thought entirely derailed, but speaking - no. a freight train hit her on that one. ‘you have no idea how much it means to me - ‘

nick leans forward, rests his elbows on his thighs. ‘did you enjoy your trip down memory lane?’ his voice is like being dropped into an icy cold lake. she was just in his head, and now he sounds like he’s coming through an old radio. ‘get what you needed out of those fun memories?’

whisper leans back, rests her head on the back of the couch. she dons the sunglasses, wears them like armor, as if it’ll protect her from kellogg should he try anything here. ‘i did what i thought was necessary.’

‘so did i.’ he shifts, chuckles. ‘your friend is stronger than he seems. if it weren’t for him holding me back, i’d have strangled you by now.’

‘revenge from beyond the grave?’ it seems like a strange way to be haunted. killed by a ghost, a literal dead man. ‘sore that i killed you first?’

his sigh is a whir of gears in nick’s throat. ‘just to see if i could get away with it.’

her heart’s beating a mile a minute, but she is so calm. nothing can touch her. not even kellogg. not even kellogg in her friend’s body. ‘i want to hate you,’ she tells him, tracing the holes in the ceiling with her eyes.

‘got a soft spot for me now that you’ve seen my tragic past? yeah, save it.’

‘sure, i’m sorry about what happened to you. your life’s been rough.’ one hand finds a hole in the loveseat, and she begins picking at centuries old stuffing. ‘but you made your choices, same as i made mine. i very easily could have killed preston in concord, slaughtered the quincy survivors. i didn’t, though.’

‘ah, so you’re a saint.’

she exhales heavily, body thrumming with unspent energy. but she can’t spend it here. can’t beat kellogg to death a second time, now that he’s jumped to nick’s body for the time being. ‘a saint? no. i’ve killed, too. and it gets easier every time, too, and sometimes - ‘ it scares her.

‘this isn’t a confessional.’

‘you’re right. anyway, i’m going to tell dr. amari to scrub the rest of you out.’ she pulls herself forward to stand, but nick’s arm shoots out, bracing her against the cushions. he still isn’t looking at her.

‘why don’t you hate me, then?’

she huffs and swings nick’s arm back into his lap. it doesn’t stop her from standing again. ‘this isn’t a confessional.’

‘claire.’

that stops her, already almost halfway across the room to where the doctor waits. ‘you took care of my son. treated him as if he were your own. maybe if fate had dealt us better hands, you would have treated your daughter the same. that’s why i don’t hate you.’

kellogg falls silent, and she takes it as her cue to leave.

‘good bye, claire.’

this time, she doesn’t stop. ‘good bye, kellogg.’

-

deacon parks against the wall across the memory den and bums a cigarette from a drifter; first, because he’s fairly certain the guy has been tailing him every single time they’ve come to goodneighbor. second, because he’s got to have something to help him to replace the feeling of her against his lips.

des is going to kill him. one hundred percent murder him. and, frankly, he wouldn’t blame her. because fuck, he’s compromised. he’s compromised and if he screws up the tentative alliance the railroad and the minutemen have because he’s fucking compromised?

des will kill him.

his inhales wrong on the first drag, and his hacking cough draws the attention of the drifters in the area. good, stare at the idiot too busy thinking about a two second kiss to remember how to smoke a cigarette. fuck.

he stubs it out on the wall and waits for whisper. they have to talk. he’s got to draw a line, here. for his own sake.

that, and the drifter keeps staring at him out of the corner of his eye, thinking he doesn’t see. sunglasses - he has no idea.

whisper finally leaves the memory den, but, of course, she’s got her sunglasses on, so he can’t tell if she’s still riding that memory high. but she’s smiling, and his stomach does not flip over. deacon’s come a long way since his teenage hormone days.

‘how’s that report coming along, partner?’ she asks, pressing close against his side. two friends just hanging out.

and, right. the report that’s going to get him killed. ‘just swell, got it all typed and ready for the professor. think i’ll get an A?’

‘A plus, for sure. you’re a good student.’

from his vantage point, he can see her staring up at him, even with the glasses. and she’s got this grin he could stand to kiss off her. fuck. ‘partner, we need to talk about something.’

she frowns, brow furrowing. ‘yeah, sure, what’s up?’ she turns to him the moment that drifter moves, and - damn. bad timing.

‘we have rules,’ he starts, and tilts his head up just in time to see the drifter moving their way. before he can continue, whisper takes his hand and drags him around the corner, into an alley across from the third rail. ‘hey - ‘

‘i know about the rules,’ whisper says, low in her throat. she puts her hands on his chest and pushes until his back hits the brick wall. ‘desdemona told me. fraternization?’ she presses full against him, arms already winding around his neck.

‘and why’d des have to tell you?’ he asks, and finds he’s scared to know the answer.

‘she caught me staring, back in hq. thought it was important that i know.’ not good. not good, not good. her voice goes almost impossibly lower, her mouth close enough he can feel every breath, ‘i can take back that kiss, if it’ll make you feel better.’

deacon flushes. close as they are, no way she can’t feel how fast his heart is beating. just as he catches their suspicious friend passing by the alley, she seals her lips against his, and he’s gone.

he deepens the kiss, hooks his fingers around her belt loops to pull her hips to his, and relishes in the moan he pulls from her throat. she tastes like the goddamn sugar bombs she’s always eating, sweet on his tongue, and he can only imagine she tastes stale cigarettes but he doesn’t care. all he cares about is her flush against him, her nails digging into his shoulders as she drags him closer.

his hands slip under her shirt, and she gasps against him as he trails higher, under her fraying bra.

desdemona doesn’t have to know. doesn’t need to know. nothing happened here.

whisper pulls away to breathe, and it physically pains him. he dips his head, brushes his lips from her jaw to her neck. ‘poor timing on that conversation, huh, partner?’ she drags a nail down the nape of his neck, and he feels her grin at the full body shiver she elicits, but he pauses, heart hammering in his chest. ‘your guy went into KLE0′s store.’

‘my - guy?’ he drops his hands from her shirt, lets his head fall back against the wall. ‘you saw him.’

‘of course. you were eying that guy pretty hard. think he’s institute?’ she asks, still leaning into him. so, he’s going to die. and if it’s not desdemona, whisper herself will kill him.

‘we’ve had our suspicions. i’ve got a contact shadowing him, but we’ve never been able to pull any real proof.’

‘okay,’ she says, shifting slightly. he bites back a groan. ‘why haven’t you brought it up to hancock?’

‘it’s only been recently. don’t want to lose his trust on baseless rumors.’

she finally detaches herself, and he misses that warmth. ‘goodneighbor seems like a pretty close knit town. they’d know if someone was acting suspicious, right? it wouldn’t hurt to pass on a suggestion.’

she hums and he hates it. hates that he knows how that feels against his lips. hates that it didn’t mean anything. hates that he knows he shouldn’t want it to be anything.

‘the general of the minutemen wants to throw her weight around?’ he focuses on breathing, just to calm himself. he’s compromised, and he hates it.

she presses the tips of her fingers to her lips, and he wonders if hers are still tingling, too. ‘for you? absolutely. and if we’re made, that puts everyone in danger.’ she sighs. ‘hancock’s going to be so excited to see us so soon.’

‘come on, partner,’ he says, attempting to slip into their old camaraderie. nothing happened here. ‘we’re the least unsavory company he keeps.’

they leave the alley behind them, heading for the entrance to the state house. one of the goodneighbor guards gives him a thumbs up after whisper passes by. deacon returns it. for all they know, they’re just a couple that got a little hands-y in an alleyway. that’s all their cover needs to be.

as they pass by KLE0′s, he witnesses the drifter purchasing a pistol before they enter the state house.

-

‘you think sammy’s been replaced?’ hancock asks, suddenly sober.

‘it’s a possibility.’ whisper allows deacon to take the lead. her eyes begin to droop just standing in the doorway. ‘last i saw, he was buying a gun from KLE0.’

fareinheit grunts, kicking off the wall she was leaning against. ‘want me to take care of it?’

hancock waves a hand, smoke weaving around his fingertips. ‘not alone. take two of the watch with you. who knows what they replaced him with.’

the woman nods and leaves, tapping two of the watch outside hancock’s office on their shoulders. they follow behind her, obediently.

‘that’s it?’ whisper says around a yawn. ‘that was... surprisingly easy.’

hancock laughs and brings an inhaler of jet to his lips. whisper mimics the movement, touching her own. she feels deacon watching her. ‘sammy’s never liked guns. heard from his girl a while back. they used to fight ‘cause she wanted them to have one, but he always refused. nice guy, too.’ he sighs, bliss crossing his features once more. ‘thanks for the tip, alley cat.’

alley - ‘yeah, no problem,’ she mumbles, words slurring.

hancock laughs, soft. ‘need me to tuck you in, alley cat? you look exhausted.’

deacon is oddly quiet. maybe he’s as tired as she is. bone tired. soul tired. the kind of tired she felt after passing her bar exam and slept the entire next day.

‘we're gonna head for the rexford, actually,’ deacon answers for her. he’s not slurring his words at all. not tired, then? just quiet.

hancock places some caps in deacon’s hands. ‘for the rooms. get her to bed, would you? she’s dead on her feet.’

dead on her feet? she talked to a dead man today. walked around in his skin and killed her husband in it. saw her son. her son! and then - and then, the rest is a blur. malden, goodneighbor, kellogg’s head, she retraces her steps, and that’s as far as it goes. her brain woke up just a few minutes ago, talking to hancock, details trickling in like a stream.

deacon doesn’t take the second room, despite paying for it. ‘just in case sammy has friends,’ he says.

he spreads out blankets on the floor, even though the bed is big enough for both of them. they shared a bed before, way back in sanctuary, and there wasn’t a problem. what changed?

she doesn’t have the energy to think. it’s all she can do to remove her pip boy and mumble good night into her pillow before she’s asleep.

[commentaryvorg]

Danganronpa V3 Commentary: Part 6.10

Be aware that this is not a blind playthrough! This will contain spoilers for the entire game, regardless of the part of the game I’m commenting on. A major focus of this commentary is to talk about all of the hints and foreshadowing of events that are going to happen and facts that are going to be revealed in the future of the story. It is emphatically not intended for someone experiencing the game for their first time.

Last time in trial 6, everything became terrible in a hopefully-mostly-deliberate way as Keebo took over as protagonist. Tsumugi pandered to the audience by trying to twist the story to be all about them and not this story’s actual goddamn cast, then completely forgot about that moments later as she forced an arbitrarily cruel final vote on the students that has nothing to do with actual hope and despair, apparently Kaito’s efforts in trial 5 suddenly mean nothing because it turns out the audience is totally okay with unfair executions after the mastermind broke the rules, and Keebo kept spouting a familiar meaningless buzzwordy hope that didn’t address any of his friends’ actual reasons for being in despair, which the audience lapped up because they’re morons while Keebo utterly failed to consider that maybe what they want from him isn’t actually a good thing.

Keebo’s already chosen to become the first arbitrary pointless sacrifice of the vote, and the Mass Panic Debate we just finished was supposedly him trying to inspire one of the others to do the same, even though he wasn’t even shooting his hope at them.

“Nekomaru”:  “Even if you won’t give up, as long as you don’t sacrifice someone el—”

Not giving up is the definition of hope! Doing anything other than that should not be necessary for hope to “win”, you arbitrary fucking murderer!

But one way or another, whether due to Keebo’s nonsensical Hope Bullet efforts or not (I’d very much like to think not), Maki chooses to sacrifice herself.

Maki:  “If Keebo and I sacrifice ourselves… then Shuichi and Himiko live, right? Then they can… survive this absurd killing game…”

Of course it would be her. Her backstory meant that she’d never cared all that much about her own survival or her own suffering, so if she can die to let at least Shuichi and Himiko live, then that’s no real loss, right? Kaito only helped so much with her sense of self-worth… and maybe his influence has been dampened right now because of all the bullshit Tsumugi has been spouting.

Shuichi:  “Maki…?”

There’s a very subtle wavering to Shuichi’s voice here beneath his surprise. He can’t bear the thought of losing her too, and it’s this pain that’s going to lead to him figuring everything out and fighting back.

Maki:  “I don’t want this killing game to end with despair. That would just… piss me off.”

Tsumugi:  “Even if you only feel that way cuz I wrote you like that? Just like with Kaito…”

Tsumugi’s still bullshitting about the Kaito part, but otherwise what she’s saying is not entirely wrong. Despair being bad is self-evident and you don’t need to be written a specific way to think that. But the feeling of needing to “defeat” despair is something that’s still a part of Maki being manipulated, not by the way she was originally written, but by that Flashback Light in chapter 5. Maki still can’t quite see that to its fullest extent, despite having long since realised that the main point of that Flashback Light was to manipulate her into killing Kokichi.

Maki:  “Even then… I’ll choose that ending if it means I can kill you. Even if I have to sacrifice my life, I will kill you!”

Now that’s something that’s how Maki’s always been written. Deal with problems that have no easy solution by killing them, and definitely kill the big evil mastermind no matter what you have to sacrifice to do so. Maki Roll, can’t you see that this is exactly like what you were trying to do for the first half of Kaito’s trial?

This would at least be Tsumugi’s writing backfiring on her, if this “punishment” she was going to receive was actually death. But since it’s not, she’s quite happy with Maki choosing this, and guh.

“Makiiii”

“my darling assassin T_T”

“That’s my Maki.”

“Assassiiiiin”

Maki has fans. Her fans seem somewhat possessive of her (although at least she doesn’t have the total sicko that Shuichi has). It also seems that some of them are hung up on the idea that she’s an assassin and don’t see her as so much more than that, as if the only reason they like her is a shallow “hurr durr schoolgirl assassin hot”, rather than any of the many things that have been compelling and interesting about her character and her arc. She deserves so much better than this.

“ALL OF THESE TEARS”

“;_; i’m gonna cry…”

At least a few of them are actually having meaningful, human reactions to this – a character they love is going to sacrifice herself for her friends! This is sad! …or, well, it would be if the sacrifice was at all meaningful and not completely arbitrary, but, you know.

“Another hope loop?”

This might finally be a vague allusion to other seasons we haven’t seen. I can kind of imagine a “hope loop” becoming the fandom term for one particular way in which the meaningless arbitrary hope ending was once resolved, but it doesn’t sound like it’s referring to DR1 or 2 specifically.

“Shuichi looks yummy <3”

I’m going to keep giving you updates on this one person just so you can keep seeing how much of an absolute creep they are.

Tsumugi:  “I told you over and over there’s nothing for you out there.”

Keebo:  “No, once the audience sees this ending, I’m sure they’ll help us.”

Oh, poor naïve Keebo, thinking that the audience is a force for good and actually gives a fuck about any of his friends when they’ve been watching them die. When they’ve been doing this for fifty-three seasons and keep wanting more. This ending right now is not meaningfully different from any of the previous ones and is not going to change anything about the audience’s behaviour at all, Keebo.

Shuichi:  “It’s because of hope that this whole thing is happening!”

But Shuichi gets it! He’s figured it out! I also love the emotion in his voice here. All of Shuichi’s (English) voice acting in this last part of the trial we’re entering is just fantastic.

The music used for Shuichi’s Rebuttal Showdown here is Clair de Lune again, which is lovely. It’s like that’s become less Kaede’s song and more just a song for Shuichi’s sadness over losing his friends.

It’s a neat twist that the last Rebuttal Showdown is against the game’s actual protagonist. This is possibly the easiest one in the whole game, with Shuichi’s words coming in completely horizontal, unmoving lines. He’s just explaining the plain truth of the matter. He’s not wrong and he’s not trying to get in anyone’s way; he’s about to fix this whole ridiculous mess.

Keebo:  (Shuichi… why? Is this the power of despair? Or…)

Yes, Keebo, despair is clearly so powerful and so evil that it dares to make Shuichi not talk like hope is the best thing ever. It couldn’t possibly be that Shuichi’s actually making complete sense and isn’t in despair any more and you should listen to him.

Buuut, Keebo’s only bullet (or, well, blade) is still just “hope”, so he still thinks that’s the only possible solution to this situation.

Keebo:  “Despair takes everything from people! Even their strength to press onward! That’s why it’s not possible for despair to be better!”

Keebo, you absolute moron, this isn’t about which one is better! Obviously Shuichi knows that hope is a better feeling to have than despair, because he’s not an idiot! But no matter what Tsumugi’s trying to make it sound like, this isn’t about proving any kind of point like it was in DR1; this is about what happens next. This is about whether the outcome of the vote, regardless of which meaningless label is slapped on it, is something we’re actually okay with, including the fact that the killing game will keep happening if we do this.

“Shuichi is the cycle of despair?”

“What are you saying, hat boy?”

“What if Shuichi is the mastermind?”

“You’re slipping up, detective.”

“Fire, Keebo! I’ll allow it!”

Aaaaaand the audience has suddenly completely stopped caring about Shuichi as a character because he dared to say a bad word about hope. This is again not remotely what an actual reasonable, human audience that’s been enjoying this story up until now would ever do, and this time it can’t just be the cherry-picked minority of despair lovers, because this is the people who are rooting for “hope”. A reaction something like “well, he’s kind of got a point, but I still want more killing games…” would be reasonable, but not just immediately denouncing him the moment he questions them. Did they not even care about Shuichi at all during the five chapters they’ve seen of him and the arc he’s had?

Shuichi:  “The people watching probably feel the same way… They want hope, too.”

Oh, Shuichi, you are giving them far too much credit. You’re assuming that the “hope” they’re obsessed with is actual hope that will inspire them in their daily lives. It sure would be realistic and understandable and relatable if that was the actual way the narrative was portraying this, but it really isn’t.

Shuichi:  “Even if it’s fiction, everyone wants to feel hope… It gives them… courage.”

That should be how this works. And I love that Shuichi clearly understands this on a personal level. Now would be a very relevant time to remind everyone that Shuichi’s Likes in the report card are listed as “Novels”. Which means that, most likely, he always used fiction to give himself courage, especially when he had so little courage on his own in the first place! Shuichi understands better than any of these one-dimensional morons in the audience exactly what gaining real hope from fiction really feels like!

Shuichi:  “While they ignore all the tragedies that we had to suffer to get there!”

Keebo:  “Shuichi, that’s—”

Monokuma:  “Then let’s start the Voting Time!”

Hah, Monokuma sure does jump in quick. He’s afraid of Shuichi pointing out what’s really going on here and how real all their suffering is and making the audience realise that maybe they shouldn’t actually want this after all, isn’t he.

Shuichi halts them to ask what the “punishment” for this vote will be, because he’s already figured out what it is. If we’d been playing as him, we’d have seen plenty of inner monologue of him slowly realising this and piecing it together as Tsumugi rambled on and on. But since we’re not seeing inside his head right now, all Keebo has seen is Shuichi being almost completely quiet and then suddenly jumping in with a fully-formed theory explaining exactly what’s going on and why this vote is bad. Shuichi really does look like a hero from the outside.

Shuichi:  “That’s what Rantaro was talking about.”

…

Rantaro:  “You wanted this killing game, so you have to win no matter what. …No matter what.”

…

Shuichi:  “Something similar must have happened in the last killing game, and he was given a choice. He sacrificed himself… and was forced to participate again.”

See, Rantaro wasn’t the only survivor of his killing game. There were two actual survivors who got to escape into the outside world just like Shuichi and Himiko hypothetically would here. Rantaro just sacrificed himself to allow for that. (In my headcanon, those two survivors were both girls and kind of reminded Rantaro of his sisters and that’s why he chose to do that.) It’s still a stretch to think that Rantaro would ever have thought of that as “wanting” this killing game like his message said, though, so I still think that line was mostly there just to make chapter 4’s opening stinger mysterious.

But man, spare a thought for Rantaro’s two friends who survived and escaped, dreading to watch Rantaro go through this again while having forgotten about them, but watching anyway because they have to know what happens to him… and then seeing him be the very first one to die. That has to have been awful. I hope that when Shuichi, Maki and Himiko do escape, they find those two and every other pair of survivors from each past killing game and start some kind of big therapy group to deal with their trauma together and share stories of their lost friends and reassure themselves that they’re all still real.

Shuichi:  “Tsumugi will still be the mastermind, Keebo will still represent the viewers… and Maki will be the new Ultimate Survivor. The killing game will begin again.”

Even if Maki wouldn’t necessarily die in this outcome, the fact that she’d lose her memories of everything in this killing game and forget about Kaito and Shuichi and be reset back to the guarded, lonely, self-loathing assassin she was at the beginning would still be awful and unacceptable. Especially since Kaito was one-in-a-million and the next game probably wouldn’t have anyone willing to help her out of it again.

It’s a little odd to think that Tsumugi would still be the mastermind? I always assumed Tsumugi wasn’t the mastermind of Rantaro’s game, simply because if she then also masterminded this game as well, it’d ruin the mystery for the audience. Unless she usually cosplays as some made-up character and this is the first time she’s ever played as herself (or at least someone who looks like herself and superficially shares her nerdiness but is less terrible and murdery).

“Izuru”:  “Then it’s despair? You’re going to choose despair to end the killing game? …How boring.”

“Celeste”:  “But this is fine. Our audience loves despair, so this will please them too.”

Will it? I mean, maybe it would if it were actual despair, since there’s emotional investment you can get from that even if it’s nothing but painful emotions. But what’s actually going to happen with the “despair” outcome of this vote is simply Shuichi, Maki and Himiko (and apparently Tsumugi) continuing to live isolated, boring lives in the academy without any more killings. That’s not a despair ending, that’s a boredom ending. Precisely the kind of thing the audience shouldn’t want.

Keebo:  “Then… hope has to win this game, too. If we continue to win for hope, then this killing game will surely end someday!”

Keebo, dude. You’re going to continue doing the thing that Shuichi has just explained is exactly what causes more killing games to happen… and then you’re just going to hope that eventually they’ll stop happening anyway? You are not being very smart right now. If you’re going to hope for something to happen, you should also at least act in a way that might help make it come true, otherwise your hope is useless.

Shuichi:  “When Maki said she was going to sacrifice herself just now, I thought… Why? So many of our friends have sacrificed their lives. Why Maki? Why now? Why do we have to go through it again…? The sorrow of losing Kaede… and Kaito… Why do we have to feel that sadness over and over and over again…? Why do we have to bear that burden…?”

I love Shuichi here so much. I love that he’s realised what this means and that it’s cruel and unfair and wrong.

Shuichi:  “Well, I don’t care how much the audience wants it, I’m not gonna feel that way anymore! I don’t want anyone to feel that way anymore!”

I love that he’s realised that the audience wants this from him and how fucked-up that is! I love that he’s thinking that not just for himself, but for every hypothetical character in future seasons who’d ever have to go through this same pain if they don’t end this right here!

I just… really wish that that actually seemed like what the in-universe audience wanted at all. Some people were sad when Maki offered to sacrifice herself, but not a single person was thinking “oh man Shuichi’s going to be devastated to lose another best friend” and empathising with the pain Shuichi’s feeling here and enjoying doing so in that immersed, in-story way. Instead, they just immediately stopped seeing him as a person the moment he spoke out against them and their precious “hope”.

The thing is, I’m still enjoying Shuichi’s emotional pain here! Of course I am! Because I care about him and I’m empathising with him, and all of this is making me want him to succeed and get what he wants and never have to feel like this any more, even as I’m enjoying that he’s feeling this way right now.

And, see, while the in-universe audience are obviously inherently more twisted than an out-universe audience because the people they’re watching aren’t really fictional and they know this, that doesn’t have to automatically make them this kind of one-dimensional asshole who can’t even empathise with the characters or engage with this like it’s a meaningful story at all. Things could still have been made to work while having them basically respond to Shuichi and his story like those of us on the other side of the real fourth wall.

Enjoying actual genuine fiction requires suspension of disbelief, compartmentalising away and ignoring the knowledge that it’s all made-up, so that you can get invested and care about what happens. So in a similar way, it might be just about believable if we could be shown that this in-universe audience has instead been suspending their knowledge that it’s real, compartmentalising away and trying to ignore the fact that real people are suffering, so that they can still enjoy this and keep watching despite knowing that people – uhhh, characters, definitely not real people – are going to die. Then they could have been reacting to this approximately like a real person watching genuine fiction would (you know, with actual investment in and empathy for the characters), until Shuichi blows the lid off their wilful ignorance right here and forces them to confront their awfulness.

Shuichi:  “Even if this is fiction, even if we’re all fictional… The pain in my heart is real! The sadness I feel when I lose the people I love is real!”

I am so, so glad that he’s realised this! This is one of my favourite moments in this trial and completely restored all the faith first-time-me had lost during all the ridiculousness of last post. This is exactly what we need to be talking about and really should never have stopped talking about – the fact that of course they’re still real people regardless of how fake their memories were. They still really felt all that pain, and they still really meant everything they did for their friends, and they still really died, regardless of the “writers” that were sometimes pulling strings behind the scenes.

And I adore the way Shuichi calls them “the people I love”. He’s not talking about specifically romantic love here, because he doesn’t have to be. Of course he loved them anyway regardless of what kind of love it was; they were his friends and they gave him all of his strength and meant everything to him. If anyone tries to use this line as proof that Shuichi must have had romantic feelings for Kaito as well, they’re completely missing the point. Using the word “love” in a platonic sense will always melt my heart and it’s especially so in this context here.

Although, while Shuichi is using this pain of his to prove to himself that he’s still meaningfully real, I do wish there was a little bit of time spent on the realisation that, since they all must have felt the same way as him, his friends must have been real, too. Being deceived into thinking they were just lies was what caused Shuichi to fall into despair, and there’s no way he’d have been able to climb out of that despair and talk so passionately about losing his friends if he didn’t truly believe once again that their lives were worth exactly as much as a “real” person’s. He has definitely figured this out by now, but it’s kind of a shame he never directly mentions it.

Shuichi:  “I won’t forgive this game that treats us like toys. And if this is what the world wants… then I reject that world! I’ll fight the world that inflicts suffering for entertainment!”

Shuichi is being such a hero and Kaede and Kaito would be so proud to see him like this!

And it’s still inconceivable that seeing him like this isn’t what the audience wants. This is a far more inspiring and meaningful story than any of the nonsense Keebo has been spouting. They should be cheering Shuichi on, not Keebo – even if that means cheering Shuichi on against themselves.

“What are you saying, detective?”

“Forget about Shuichi.”

But nope. The audience doesn’t care about him. Now that he’s speaking out against them, they’d rather just drop him entirely.

“You’re in despair, right?”

“It’s okay to feel despair sometimes…”

Yes, clearly the only reason Shuichi is saying this is because he’s being controlled by that super-evil force known as “despair”, not because he’s right.

“C’mon, Keebo! Attack!”

“hurry up and refute it!”

“Force hope through!”

And of course, they just want Keebo to yell more words about hope at Shuichi, because doing that will totally change his mind and make him think inflicting suffering for entertainment is okay. Yelling emptily about hope can achieve anything, right?

“The big reveal, at last.”

Uhh, no? What does this person even think the “reveal” is supposed to be – the fact that these characters aren’t actually fictional and that watching them suffer for entertainment is fucked up? That’s not a reveal, that’s something that should have been apparent from the start but everyone has been wilfully ignoring. (And it’s something that everyone should now be forced to confront whether they like it or not, but apparently almost nobody is.)

“mmm… shuichi’s eyes ^q^”

This “fan” of Shuichi’s is still here. And they still don’t actually give a fuck about him and haven’t been paying attention to anything he’s been saying or feeling at all.

“Why have we been doing this…?”

You! You, right there, are the one sensible actual human being in this whole stupid audience! This is what everyone should be thinking right now – realising that Shuichi has a goddamn point and that this whole practice is vile and that if they actually care about any of these characters at all then they should want what Shuichi wants, which is to end all this and never have another killing game again!

“something’s different, right?”

“Are they blaming us?”

These ones are more ambiguous, but it is possible that these two people are also vaguely starting to realise that what they’re doing is not okay. Maybe.

Tsumugi:  “It doesn’t matter what you do. No matter what a fictional character does or says, it’s just fiction to the outside world.”

See… based on the audience’s current comments, it’s really seeming like this is actually true, in this world. Those three just now are the only comments during this part that give any sense of people actually listening to Shuichi’s words. The overwhelming majority are like the ones I quoted at the beginning, complaining about Shuichi’s outlook and wanting Keebo to “fix” things for them.

Shuichi:  “I… refuse to vote.”

Tsumugi:  “Refuse to vote…?”

Keebo:  “Monokuma said that if we don’t vote, we’ll be killed for breaking the rules!”

Shuichi:  “Yes, I know. That’s why I’m doing it.”

And here’s this rule which has been vaguely a thing in the background of all the Danganronpas but was pointedly highlighted at the beginning of almost every trial in this one, making it kind of obvious it’d somehow be important later on. It’s also quite relevant that Monokuma’s declarations of this rule always explicitly said that not voting would result in death, not just “punishment”, because it means Tsumugi can’t suddenly pull a loophole and pretend this still just means they get forced into another killing game.

(Although that’s only assuming that the audience still cares about her following the rules, which, ha fucking ha.)

Shuichi:  “If this ends without a single vote being cast for hope or despair… The audience would hate it. They’d never accept an ending like that… So I abstain! I refuse to give the outside world the ending it wants!”

I appreciate Shuichi’s determination and willingness to give his life to end this killing game for good and give a huge fuck-you to the audience… but honestly, it’s kind of flimsy that this would actually achieve that. It’s hard to believe that, over fifty-three seasons, there haven’t been a few kind-of-disappointing endings here and there (even accepting that this audience laps up meaningless buzzwordy hope-versus-despair nonsense like this). But surely the occasional boring ending would only make people shrug and hope the next season is better, and it’d take several in a row for them to finally think things will never get better and the show might as well just end.

Which, to be fair, might have been happening already if this season took longer than usual to come out and some people weren’t sure it ever would. But that apparent fact was buried in some obscure audience comments and wasn’t something Shuichi seemed to notice, so he shouldn’t be nearly so sure that this would work.

Plus, it shouldn’t only be about the ending – the rest of the story is a part of the story too. The other trials in this game have mostly been fantastic and there should be no way the audience wouldn’t want more of that kind of thing, no matter how disappointingly it ends!

…This should also still not actually be a disappointing ending at all, because look at what an amazing hero Shuichi’s managing to be! He’s willing to give his life to stop the real villain behind all this – not some meaningless concept of “despair”, but the people who actually wanted him and his friends to suffer! This is still something that it should be possible for the audience to accept makes a good story, despite the fact that they themselves are the villains in it.

Keebo:  (Hope… won’t end the killing game? If that’s true, then this feeling that I must win for hope is…)

Geez, Keebo, glad you’ve finally caught up with us. It really should not have taken you this long.

It’s pretty neat that the “lying” mechanic as used here with Keebo isn’t actually lying – hope is just a concept, it’s not even a fact that you can lie about. Instead, it’s representing Keebo finally choosing to ignore and go against what his inner voice is telling him to do. The only weapon he has is hope, but that doesn’t mean this is the only choice he has.

“What are you doing, Keebo?”

“Hurry up and side with hope.”

“COME BACK HOOOPE”

“it’s hope again, right?”

And of course, the majority of the audience is not happy about this. Really, though, Shuichi has already ruined their hope ending by pointing out that this “hope” is arbitrary and cruel, and no amount of empty yelling about hope from Keebo could change that now even if he did keep listening to them.

“show us maki roll!”

This single comment here is the closest anyone in the audience ever gets to even vaguely acknowledging Kaito’s existence, since they’re using the nickname he gave her. And the utter lack any other mention of Kaito from the audience is quite clearly another thing that is completely Unrealistic and Wrong. Kaito was the best, and a significant amount of the audience should have been invested enough in his story and his influence on Shuichi and Maki to still be occasionally mentioning him here.

“i wanna break Shuichi’s fingers <3”

I sincerely hope that when Shuichi gets out of here, he ends up absolutely nowhere near this person and they never figure out where he’s living. Geez. Go and re-examine your life, you sick creep.

Keebo:  “I may be a robot, but the thought of my friends dying still fills me with sadness. I don’t want anyone else to feel this way!”

You know, if they’d actually done anything at all with Keebo’s issues about being a robot, it could have worked pretty well in this trial. He’s always been struggling to fully understand the feelings of “real” humans, and so he should have also struggled to justify to himself that his own feelings matter even though they’re just being “simulated” by computer software. But he still feels it, so it still matters, robot or not. That’s exactly the kind of argument Shuichi had to make to himself to justify that he’s still real. Keebo could have been the perfect person (among those still with us) to help Shuichi and friends come to terms with the existential issues that this trial has given them! If only Keebo had had an actual proper character arc about accepting himself as just as much of a person despite being a robot, and also if only he’d ever been trying to give his friends actual hope during this whole deal. His character has so much wasted potential.

His protagonist status wears off here, which is an appropriate moment for it to do so. All he was ever meant to do as the audience’s protagonist was to keep the cycle going and keep more killing games happening, and now that he realises that, he doesn’t want to be their protagonist any more.

“gonna dismantle you, Keebo.”

Oh boy, here’s some foreshadowing to what they actually end up doing, because apparently none of them ever really cared about Keebo as a character or a person.

“WTF? You already killed each other?”

As if the fact that the murderers were all participants of the game makes everyone in the game a bad person and therefore it doesn’t matter if they suffer and die? As if most of the actual murderers were even bad people and not good people desperately trying to save everyone and/or being manipulated into it? Yeah, no, sure, this was all just a meaningless slaughterfest and so it’s totally okay for them to all continue to die.

“the questionnaires were pointless?”

I mean, it’s not like you guys ever affected Keebo’s actions in any meaningful way up until now anyway; I don’t know why you’re so disappointed.

“Shuichi has a point.”

Hello, sensible person! I don’t know if this is the same person as that one from before, but it’s nice to see at least a tiny, tiny fraction of the audience getting it. It really is such a tiny fraction, though – the vast majority of people are still just complaining about not getting what they wanted. And I’d like to just put this down to the fact that the people who are realising this are also nice enough to then stop watching and stay out of the comments section – but, no. The comments section is exactly where these people who’ve realised this should be, because they should be trying to persuade everyone else to agree with them and realise that this is fucked up and no longer want this!

Shuichi:  “New characters are created just to show the outside world a fictional hope. They get written into these killing games, forced to betray one another…”

I appreciate how Shuichi is describing them as being “created”, because it proves that he now understands that this is exactly what happens. This has nothing to do with the pregame assholes who auditioned and wanted this; they just donated their bodies. The characters who are actually in this killing game never wanted any of this, yet they were literally created to suffer. That is not fucking okay and Shuichi will not let it continue. No-one else will ever be created for that purpose. He and his friends are the last.

Shuichi:  “To end this killing game, and end it forever… We will reject Danganronpa!”

This whole speech here accompanies Shuichi’s protagonist status switching back on, and it has pretty nice dramatic effect. He’s being a hero!

Shuichi:  “Tsumugi… you were right. I’m weak. I’m weaker than anyone else… If I didn’t have my friends, I’d be useless. That’s true even now!”

It’s lovely that Shuichi is okay with this. He realises that this is the character Tsumugi wrote him to be… but that doesn’t mean that it’s not still who he is, and it doesn’t mean he’s not real.

But he’s still not giving himself enough credit at all. Yes, he’s only able to be strong when he has friends to rely on and inspire him, but all that potential strength is still right there inside him, ready to be brought out by the right people! All he needs is a little nudge in the right direction, from the right kind of heroes.

Shuichi:  “If Keebo and Maki didn’t stand up… I would have ended it all right then.”

It’s really sad to think what Shuichi probably means when he says “end it all”. Kind of like the way he once said that Kaito “saved his life”, without ever properly elaborating on what he meant by that.

But still, Shuichi – Keebo and Maki may have chosen to sacrifice themselves, but you’re the one who used the pain of that to realise that you’re still real and figure out what everything meant. They weren’t trying to encourage you to do that, or even to be strong at all, when they made their choice. That all came from you, and from your own strength that you’ve built up through Kaede and Kaito’s belief in you. You’re not as weak as you were at the beginning, not by a long shot!

Shuichi:  “But it’s because I’m weak and because I lost my way… that I finally realized. I finally realised how cruel this “hope” really is.”

It’s cruel because the best way to write a good story is to have characters that are weak and suffer like Shuichi has been. The most inspiring type of heroes who give people the most hope aren’t the ones who are perfect and invincible, but the ones who struggle and suffer and yet still manage to win in the end. Shuichi has realised, because of his own suffering and the fact that he’s managed to claw his way through it anyway, that this is the kind of thing the audience should want to see, because it gives them the hope that they can overcome their weaknesses and struggles in the same way. A storyline like Shuichi’s should be exactly what the audience wants and exactly why this has happened so many times to so many real people who didn’t deserve to suffer for this.

I say “should be”, because this isn’t even remotely what the in-universe audience actually wants to see at all. It’s honestly bizarre how obvious the divide is between what Shuichi is describing as a genuinely inspiring engaging fiction that should be the reason the audience keeps wanting this, and the one-dimensional idiocy that this nonsensical audience apparently wants instead. If the out-universe writers are able to write Shuichi talking about the audience wanting this kind of story, they should also be perfectly capable of writing the audience actually wanting it! This shouldn’t be difficult.

---

[Next post]

[jack-andthestalk]

Stuck on you, Here I am, Chapter 8.

Thank you as always to @balfeheughlywed​ the beta queen, and gives poor Jamie dogs abuse when he needs it.

“So ye told her then?” Rupert asked in an excitable tone. I nodded silently.

“And how did she take it?”

“Weel, she dinna say much really I suppose she wasna expecting me to tell her she was the reason I moved here.”

 I tried to rationalise Claire’s dazed expression after I told her, her hand had moved slowly away from my cheek. Her eyes darting away to protect her thoughts.

“I dinna ken, she was a bit taken aback to be fair” I half muttered under my breath.

Taking my chance, I signaled to the barman to put up another round, the third round on me and Rupert didn’t let it go unnoticed. “Alright Fraser spit it out? Ye clearly have summoned me here for a reason…and with the way yer buying me beer, I am guessing its information on Claire.”

I smiled sheepishly and nodded. “Aye.” The barman placed two cold pints in front of us and I waited until he moved away. I nervously rubbed my hands down my sides, I knew Rupert didn’t want to get involved and I had to approach him cautiously, like a foal that could balk at any minute.

“has she said ought to you?” I half closed one eye, afraid to see him start into the litany of why he wasn’t tell tailing on Claire. But he gave me a benevolent look and said “no, well not really but she isna herself…il say that much”

“in what way?” I pressed.

“Well she is distracted and quiet.” He said downing a large gulp from his glass and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, “and she…”  he continued again. He was hesitating, I could see his eyes dart about his head trying to worm his way out of finishing his sentence. “And…” I repeated bobbing my head encouragingly.

“And I ken she told Cathal who ye are.” He divulged hurriedly. Cranking his neck to the side to gauge my expression.

“Fuck, are ye serious?”. My mind was swirling with possibilities of what this meant.

“Aye” Rupert replied gravely.

“ye dinna sound like it went well then?” I probed.

He shook his head from side to side, “Aye well I couldna hear it all but he dinna sound best pleased that she kept it from him…”

“Oh aye?” I said vaguely, trying to keep the desperate hope building in me from making my voice sound off pitch.

“What?” I pushed him, it came out more stern than I intended.

“Look, this is why  I dinna want to get involved in this shit” Rupert spluttered into his pint.

“Ya canna not tell me now Rupert, c’mon….”

He sighed and shut his eyes, “I just dinna want ye getting yer hopes up Jamie.”

“Why?” uneasiness was creeping in to my chest and I could feel my palms wet.

“Well because I think Cathal got over it….about ye and Claire.” Rupert had one eye half pinched afraid to look at me.

“How do ye ken that?”

“He stayed the night, they were ok by morning…that I am sure of and please dinna ask me why” he breathed out, shoulders slumping at the relief of getting it out.

My heart sank, “Aye I dinna think I want to ken.” I mumbled sinking my face into my pint to hide the burning feeling crawling up my throat.

______________________________________________

 I threw money on the counter to pay for another drink for Rupert and left, my heart had sunk into my stomach, Rupert knew I wasn’t fit for idle chat about the rugby, he didn’t push it.

I thought back to my admission with Claire, trying to work out what she was thinking. Once I told her, I saw her mouth open to say something but nothing came out, her head stooped low and I could see that she was blinking back tears. She moved slightly out of my reach on the bed, I was greatful she couldn’t run with her injury. For sure she would have balked. Her voice came across a little shaky when she eventually spoke. “It’s…I don’t know what to say Jamie…”

 It was a lot to take in, I tried to tell myself that. I had almost two years of longing; Claire had two years of probably hating me. She was loyal to another man now; I felt his presence in her heart when her next words were “I am with someone now you know that.”

 “I ken” I replied weakly, the sullied fact was I didn’t care about him. I wanted him away from her, away from her mind, her touch and her bed. I hated the man for no other reason than she was his. Claire didn’t think I actually did ken because she persisted. “I have someone who loves me, who has never hurt me, one that I don’t have to imagine betraying me with another woman.”

 Her words stung even now when they were only a memory.

 “Claire” it came out as a pleading whisper, a plea for or her to remember me and her, what we had been.

 I thought if I explained how it was, maybe she would see the truth in it, a gaping mistake in my life that I would give anything to reverse. I didnt think I would ever be able to describe the hallow feeling when I pulled that girl into my arms or the ache in my heart when I sat in the back of the uber with her. I remember absently looking down at her legs while we drove to her apartment, and in my drunken haze absently thought she had really short legs,  but then all I could see was Claire’s long endless creamy legs and how they wrapped perfectly around my hips, So the whole journey to another woman’s apartment, I longed for Claire, a visceral humming in my body earning for all of her and how she made me feel. How the hell could I ever tell Claire that? Tell her while I prepared to bed another woman, my heart and body had cried out for her.  

 Instead I had simply told the more basic truth, “I  dinna even want her, she meant nothing to me, I used that poor girl to hurt you, to make you jealous…I shouldha never gone near her”

 That had sparked her completely, “Gone near her?” she had looked at me in disbelief. Her whiskey eyes, were flashing wildly and she was pushing the hair away from her face, “You did more than bloody go near her!”

  “It wasna like you think Claire.” it wasn’t.

 “Like I fucking think?” she spat disbelievingly “I think! That you picked up a woman and went home with her, is that not what I should think? Hmm? Is that not true then Jamie? Two years hasn’t changed the reason I left!”

 Silence overcame us again, I knew not to push it, just allowing her to think.

 I had barely heard her when she spoke next, eyes cast downwards, fidgeting with the sheet from her bed, Claire’s voice was barely a whisper.

 “It was the humiliation. “I never thought you would hurt me like that Jamie”

 The night before Claire left, when I told her what I had done she had been so angry, a fury that ended with us mauling each other to completion, she had lashed out at first but then it became something more, a punishment from her, reminding me of what I was about to lose, for me it was just trying to cling to anything of her, hoping to god she wouldn’t leave me. The morning after, she was distant, cold unreachable. Her detached tone, when she said she had to go, that stupid photo there was no truth for me in that photo. So many realities that the picture hadn’t shown.

 So I had seen Claire angry, cold and then she was gone. I had never seen how vulnerable I had left her. It was my job to protect her, keep her safe, instead I had flayed her open publically. Hearing her tell me of her humiliation ripped it all open again the big gaping wound I had caused for both of us.

 Sorry was not going to cut it. I had avoided mentioning Willie’s death, I still found it difficult to say it out loud but we both knew that was when it had all started.

 “ya ken I was such a mess after Willie” I said quietly.  “I was out of my mind, I got so paranoid I’d loose ye too…and then when ye went away that weekend I thought ye were with him…stupidly thought I would show ye how it felt to be ripped apart like that, Christ I was delusional enough to hope if ye were with him, it would bring ye back to me”

 I took her delicate hands in mine, and looked her straight in the eye,  “It was the biggest mistake of my life Claire” I bowed my head slightly and without realising it, I had inched closer like a magnet until my head rested on her chest, it had been so long since I had that kind of contact with her, I could have laid my head against her forever, I was so immersed in the feel and warmth of her, I didn’t notice her hands tenderly rising  to cradle my head against her, I could feel her heart beating rapidly “only you” I whispered, “I have never loved anyone only you.”

 I looped my arms around her waist and she held me there for what seemed like hours.  

 I think I had covered the length of the city by now and here I found myself again, outside her flat, not able to stay away, and praying that she was alone.

[ghostie-hoe]

PLL THE PERFECTIONISTS 1x02 SEX LIES & ALIBI’S RECAP & THOUGHTS

We open with the University students gathering at the scene of the crime. The police cover Nolan’s body and Ava is seen to be mid meltdown, distraught over Nolan’s death. Ava points an accusing finger at Caitlin telling her that it’s exactly how she imagined it. Yes, it did happen exactly as Caitlin had imagined (I’m not ruling her out yet, though I think if it was her, she’d choose another option to avoid incriminating herself.)

The depressed Ava montage broke my heart. She’s lost her parents, one on the run from the law and other chose to leave. She obviously took comfort in Nolan and now that’s gone she feels alone. Dylan has a guilty conscious having night terrors about Nolan. ‘Save it to Nolan to haunt us in both life and death.’ Andrew doesn’t seem to be in the loop, if Dylan trusted him he would tell him that Nolan’s been blackmailing him. He could come clean about the kids or not. Either way, he doesn’t fully trust Andrew.

Jeremy is so suspicious. He seems like a very strong character. What I took from this scene when Jeremy said “it’s okay if you are relieved Nolan is dead. You can admit that to me.” It seemed to have an underlining of “Babe, I get you because I killed him for you.” It’s all in the dialogue “I don’t feel bad that you don’t have to worry about him anymore.”

I knew Nolan wanted to meet Alison. I called it either being Ali or Mona, my second victory and it’s only been two episodes. So Nolan sends Alison a message asking her to meet him on the roof before he was killed. Backtracking to what we were shown from the rooftop, Nolan seemed to have met the person he messaged. So, maybe it wasn’t Alison but Ali pointed out how Taylor could be her doppelgänger.. I’m just saying, it really could’ve been Taylor in an Alison mask.

And nobody would suspect the dead girl..

Dylan and Caitlin talking about how they all don’t really know each other. That’s important. Someone on here made a connection between the books and said that there was a character with a split personality called Parker and Caitlin’s name is Parker - Lewis. At this point I wouldn’t be surprised if Caitlin did it as Parker, drugged Dylan as her accomplice and they both killed him. Their conversation just seems a little sketchy. The whole “We have to make it look like we are sad and not relieved because I dated him and you were his friend.”

Mona is obviously leading towards a mental breakdown. She seems to be in manic mode completely unaware of Alison talking to her as she attempts to follow her little system. I zoomed in on her wall and next to all the equations, I saw the framed picture which seemed to represent a split personality, but it also looked half Male, half female. Could this represent Nolan and Taylor?

Mona’s extremely offended by Alison asking her if she was on the roof the night of Nolan’s death. Mona did so much to redeem herself to the girls. She honestly really tried so I understand her offence. Alison shows Mona the text and Mona tells her that it looks like she killed him.

Oh Ava, please stop drinking. It doesn’t help with anything. Yes you want to numb the feelings, but alcohol is a depressant. Take it from a recovered alcoholic, it’s always best to seek help from a trauma therapist or grievance counsellor. The song is so fitting though. Marlene is great at choosing songs I have to give her that.

“Does anyone know you were doing Nolan’s work for him?” “You heard the news?” “Yeah he was murdered.” I don’t know I’m just so suspicious of Andrew at this point. Everyone talks about this so casually.

I like how Caitlin is open with Jeremy about her hate for Nolan and goes as far as sharing the paper that she wrote about murder being justified and about Nolan. She goes on to say that Alison intuitive and knew that the paper was inspired by Nolan. Jeremy tells Caitlin that she didn’t do anything so why is she upset. How does Jeremy 100% know that? Maybe because he killed Nolan. So Caitlin and Jeremy have a song. How do they say that a song with lyrics “in the after light, he follows me.” Relate to them enough as a couple to be labelled “our song?” At first I thought it said in the afterlife..

Mona lacks what all of us other females don’t. Alison announces that she brought food, most of us would be like THANK YOU QUEEN. But not Mona “I’m the reason Nolan is dead. He didn’t belong here. It was his personality traits. My Algerivem (The fuck you spell that) red flagged him.” “Because he was dangerous?” “No, flagged is someone who could push another student to the point of snapping. So by looking the other way and not telling Miss Hotchkiss, I created a killer.” “So you’re using your code to figure out who snapped.”

So, Mona seems to find some kind of comfort in her old ways. Solving things, getting completely lost in it.

ALISON SLAPPING MONA AND SHE LOOKS AT HER IN SHOCK THEN IS ALL LIKE OOOH KEY LIME PIE MY FAVOURITE. ICONIC. I love these two together. Mona asking Alison when she became a wuss. This is what we’re getting, the constant bring up of Alison’s past. This must have a meaning soon!

The way they filmed the scene of Ava sleeping as if someone was standing there with a knife raised ready to kill her. True horror movie style. The lights come on and it’s Dylan and Caitlin. So, what if this is a clue. Dylan and Caitlin are somehow involved either together or alone. Or maybe it’s a clue towards Nolan’s killer being Jeremy or Andrew.

All these characters are calling out the obvious. When the group are in Ava’s room and Caitlin claims her and Dylanhad nothing to do with Nolan’s death and Ava says “before he was murdered” Dylan said a similar line earlier on in the episode and so did Andrew. So, what if this focus on Nolan being murdered is to throw us off. I mentioned this last week, but someone in a Nolan mask could’ve easily been killed. So Nolan may not have been murdered. But someone was.

There it is again from Dylan “We don’t know each other well enough to trust each other but we need each other.” That’s also the second time someone has referred to it as the perfect posse. “Everyone at BHU is a suspect.” This is exactly why I’ve ruled nobody out yet. “We all have secrets that make us look guilty.” There must be more secrets than what we already know. Let’s recap what we know. Nolan pretty much manipulated Dylan into kissing him: He cheated on Andrew. Thus how Dylan now represents Nolan in his perfect posse and writes papers for Ava and Nolan. Nolan blackmailed Caitlin with a picture of one of her mothers who is a politician kissing a man. He blackmailed her into being his girlfriend. There had to be darker secrets he has on them. Caitlin says to Ava “Unless you are that one person with nothing to hide.” So, Ava seems to be acting like Nolan doesn’t know any of her secrets, I think she’s naive to assume that she’s safe in that respect.

mad world sounds beautiful on the cello I must say. So, this iconic scene of the three musketeers walking to the funeral. In slow mo. I felt for Ava when Claire embraces Caitlin whose only feeling scared for herself whilst Ava stands in the background genuinely hurting. The way it’s shot the over Caitlin’s shoulder shot and Ava blurred out in the background is direct symbolism. When it comes to Claire, Ava felt like an outcast. THEM HOLDING HANDS DURING THE SERVICE FOR SUPPORT WAS SO CUTE.

We get a ton of information from the Mona and Alison conversation at the funeral. Mona confides in Alison about a partial black out during the time of Nolan’s murder. Who would be able to orchestrate something like that? TAYLOR HOTCHKISS MAYBE!? She is after all, monitoring the cameras at BHU and I’m unsure of the timeline. Was Beacon Guard existing when she was “alive”? If so, she would’ve found a way to hack into the system. The only other person we know who knows how to do that is sitting right next to Alison and revealing this information.

So you’re telling me that Caitlin dated both Mason and Nolan, two childhood friends? Interesting. Dylan is getting really shady. “Is it just me or does Mason look a little too sad?” Is it just me or do you and Caitlin look a little guilty and like you don’t care?

MAJOR FLASHBACKS TO PLL WITH THAT SHOT OF THE LEAVES BLOWING IT REMINDED OF THE SCENE WITH THE LEAVES BLOWING AND THEN WE SEE THE MISSING PERSON’S AD ON THE ROSEWOOD NEWSPAPPER WHEN ALI WENT MISSING.

“Dana Booker, you are even more of a low life than I thought.” AVAJALALI SNAPPED. Dana announces that she is no longer working with the FBI but as the new head of security. There it is again “Things are far from okay, a student was murdered but rest assured as BHU’s new head of security, will find out who killed Nolan Hotchkiss.” Wow TANA 2.0. THIS WOMAN IS SIMILAR TO TANA IN A FEW AWAYS AND THAT WORDING IS VERY SIMILAR TO WHAT TANA HAS SAID IN THE PAST

So, Ava tells Dylan and Caitlin that Nolan hid his weed in the greenhouse. When Dylan gets there he finds a note. Someone had got there first. Who else knows that Nolan kept secret things there? Welllll. Ava. But there must be someone else.

Alison bringing up the whole “or someone’s trying to frame me for his murder.” And Mona says that it’s a possibility. ALISON CARES SHE WANTS MONA TO STAY IN TOUCH WITH REALITY AND MONA IS PLAYING ONLINE CHESS THATS SO MONA. “Id offer to play with you in person.” “You’d lose.” THIS SEEMS SIGNIFICANT. IS MONA HINTING AT A GAME. SHE IS THR GAME MASTER AFTER ALL. OMG.

The creepy ass voice sounded similar to Grunwald? Are they gonna bring Grunwald into this. She’s so creepy, I love her. “It’s just like you imagined it.” If they all heard that voice, which it seemed like they did..

Ruling out students with braces. Who has braces??? Also Ava feeling so alone breaks my heart into millions of pieces and she just accepts it as the way it is :(

Dana is so SHADY AND SO TANA. Wow. Alison pulling the big strings like “Do you have a warrant? And she tells her she doesn’t need one because of her contract.

Alison never gets a break from A activity, walking into her home to see a window open and then the creepy ass mother of her ‘doppelgänger’ just chilling with some wine in the dark. That’s what serial killers do Claire. If you don’t want to be suspected then don’t wait in the dark. She says disappeared and then changed it to killed herself.. does Claire know something? When Alison asks her if Claire wrote “They’re watching” on the wall Claire hesitates and doesn’t offer a real answer. Were Nolan and Taylor close? Apparently they teamed up. So this could be the case, backtracking to my theory last week of Taylor and Nolan killing someone and figuring things out from “the dead.”

MONA IS TALKING TO HANNA MARIN AND MY BABIES SPOBY ELOPED FINALLY. THE ONLY COUPLE I WAS REALLY BEHIND ELOPED. SPOBY DESERVE ALL THE HAPPINESS IN THE WORLD.

Dana takes Caitlin, Dylan and Ava our of class and starts asking them about their alibi. Que Alison stepping in and giving them one. ICONIC WHEN SHE IS LIKE “BRING IT ON BITCH.”

So my overall verdict - I gave this episode a 9. I LOVED IT. We got our little Easter eggs and the mention of Hanna and SPOBY ELOPING. We got Alison giving her students an alibi and being a savage. All the Mona

[whiskynottea]

An interruption in the 1st law of thermodynamics.

Previously, Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Chapter 33 Chapter 34

AO3

@theministerskat, there is not much left to say at this point... Thank you!! ❤️

Also, cheers to @notameeksassenach for her tags 😉

Chapter 35. Expectations

Expectations. What a person believes will happen, under certain conditions. The product of probability and value.

The problem with this equation is that values change depending on the person.

Brian Fraser valued the continuation of his business, a stable life for his son to carry on his family name, an admirable career that would give Jamie the foundation for a happy life.

I valued Jamie’s happiness and proximity. I didn’t care what he chose to do, as long as it made him happy and we left Edinburgh together, going to uni and living the best years of our lives.

Jamie, however, valued the feeling of water enfolding his body in the pool, the thrill of a victory, the progress he made every day towards being the best.

Happiness is a common trait, linked to the variables of everyone’s expectations. But there is a different version of happiness in each person, anchored to its own universe.

Our expectations. Our family’s, our friends’ expectations… What we have, what we’d like to have, what we should have in the future. Who we should be.

Life is demanding. And love makes people demanding.

A battle of beliefs – adding weight to our decisions, to our plans, to our lives. Changing the equation’s balance.  

--

Jamie was angry, scared, stressed. I couldn’t imagine a worse combination. He closed himself off and I was sure that he hardly heard my little motivational speech as I was talking to him during the lunch break.

“Listen to me, you bloody Scot. Your father said that you’ll stop swimming if you don’t get better grades. IF.” At this point, I had grasped his hand, my fingers applying pressure against his, pushing my conviction into his skin.

“He doesna understand, Sassenach.” Jamie’s words were strained, leaving barely opened lips. “He thinks I’m fooling around wi’ the swimming when I’m not. Ye ken that.” His eyes bore into mine, daring me to contradict him. “Tis what makes me happy.” His face softened for a moment, before adding, “And you.”

“I know Jamie, but you can’t blame hi-”

“The hell I can’t!” I’d lost him again. He went from vulnerable and open to distant and cold in mere seconds.

“He wants the best for you, that’s why he pushes you,” I tried again, willing the relation between the two strong headed men to be mended. “He’s your father, Jamie, he loves you more than anyone.”

“My Ma would never have done this, make me choose.” His voice broke min-sentence and he fixed his eyes on an invisible mark on the floor.

I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. I wouldn’t let him get caught in that loop of pain and anger. It was easy to blame his dad and idealize his mother. It was safe - no one could prove him wrong. Before I opened my mouth to speak again, Jamie’s ironic chuckle stopped me.

“He never really got it – my Da. It was my Ma who was driving me to the pool every day, who cheered me on, she embraced who I was and my love for swimming. My Da… his mind was always on the business.” Loss and hurt gave way to fury again, and his words came out harsh and hurried. “And now he sees swimming as a distraction, when the only distraction is school.”

At this, I stopped short. I blinked once, trying to comprehend what he’d said.

“What?” It was a single syllable, but it must have carried a load of emotion because Jamie’s face turned abruptly towards me. I tried to be calm, to stop my heaving chest, to keep my pounding heart safe in my chest before it broke in pieces. “Jamie, you can’t really mean that.” My words sounded almost normal – almost. “You need to study, you need the grades, the A levels…” My composure failed me then, the continuation of my sentence silent, grinding against my throat.

Us.

He didn’t want to go to Oxford anymore? If he didn’t care about school, about uni…

“Claire,” he said, voice husky again. “Please, not you too. Not you.”

I shook my head, willing the tears to stay hidden behind closed eyelids, my face straining in pain. I felt his strong arms around my shoulders pulling me tight to him and I swallowed hard, scared of what was to come. A secret buried deep inside him, coming to the surface. “I didna mean it, mo chridhe. Not that way.” I didn’t move or speak, and I felt him take a deep breath, his chest pushing against my own. “I’m sorry, Claire. I dinna want to fuck up with you too.”

I ran my hands over my face, took a step back and looked at him. “So what did you mean?”

He shrugged, running a hand through his messed locks. “I dinna want to stop swimming, is all I meant. I need to focus on training. If I win the Scottish National Champs I might even get to the national team - I checked the times they need, I’m really close. But this doesna mean I dinna want to fix my grades.”

I pushed myself to the side for a moment, tossed my expectations in the trash can and decided to focus on his - all the while feeling a knife going through my heart. But this wasn’t about me. It was about him. His life, his future. His happiness.

I took him by the hand and walked into an empty classroom. It was quiet, the dust suspended in the air, the numbers on the blackboard noting dates to be remembered, important, historical ones. Not like the dates I remembered: when he asked me for my number, when we kissed for the first time, when we went to the cinema on our first date, when I spent the night in his room at Lallybroch, when we made love. I didn’t want to add another date to my list - when Jamie realized that he didn’t want to come to Oxford. And yet, I would - if I had to.

Jamie sat on a desk and I settled between his thighs. His eyes were lost, desperate. “Do you remember when we went to the escape room?” I asked and he looked at me surprised, but nodded his head.

“Before we met the others, we talked about our A levels.” He nodded again. “You said you would take over your father’s business, but your dream was to travel, to write a book. Do you still want to do that?”

Jamie smiled, shaking his head. “Ye do remember everything, aye?” I shrugged in response and let him continue. “I still like studying English more than maths, that’s to be sure. But, nay, I dinna see myself doing that.”

“What do you see yourself doing then?”

“I want to keep swimming.”

“You and Dory from Nemo,” I said, losing my solemn expression for a moment, and kissed his nose.

A silent laugh left his throat and he took a deep breath, but didn’t speak.

“Do you want to go to uni?” I asked, my voice steady. My heart clenched, ready to take the blow.

“Of course I do, Claire!”

A loud beat, the blood resuming its flow through my body.

“To do what?” I asked, making him justify his response out loud. If he didn’t want to face his future, to prioritize his goals, someone had to do it for him.

“Business management.” He said it as if it was obvious, and yet the worst thing in the world.

“Jamie, do you want to take over the family business? I mean… Do you really want to do it?”

Jamie looked away for a long moment and swallowed hard before his eyes returned to mine. “I dinna ken. It’s not actually a choice, Sassenach.”

“Have you talked to your dad about it? Have you ever explained to him how you feel?”

Jamie let out a long breath before a sad smile settled on his lips. “I canna do that.”

“And why is that?” I pushed him.

“He has been planning it for years. It would break him, Sassenach. My Ma and he, they created everything, starting from nothing. It’s his dream to continue the Fraser business, so my parents’ labour wouldn’t be in vain. He wants to leave something behind - for us. A legacy that we’ll take even further. I canna deny him his dream.”

“His dream.” I emphasized.

“Still,” he said it simply and it was all I needed to understand what he meant. He couldn’t let down his father. Wouldn’t, not now. Not before having something more certain as an alternative.

“But you can see yourself running the business?”

“Aye, I can. Tis not that bad, Sassenach. In a way, we try to make people happy, give them pleasure wi’ our products. Maybe give them a smile some time during their day.”

I smiled, thinking of my smile every time I ate one of their shortbread cookies. ”But it’s not swimming.” I voiced the part of his thoughts he had kept silent.

“No, tis not.”

“But would you like to be a professional swimmer?” I asked him, already knowing the answer.

“Ye ken that I want to. But tis not easy.”

“So, since you still don’t know what the future holds for you, you’ll close no doors - just yet.”

“No, I won’t. That’s why I’m training as much as I can. That’s why I’ll go to uni. Wi’ you,” he said and pulled me closer for a kiss.

“You do realise,” I said with a frown when we broke our kiss, “That for this to happen, you have to study and pass our exams. Right?”

Jamie raised his eyebrows, as if the answer to my question was obvious. “Help me wi’ the maths?”

I looked at him and thought that I could easily finish this conversation with a positive answer and a kiss. But I couldn’t. The doubt crept up in me, slowly eating pieces of my happiness. My expectations. “Jamie, is Oxford still your dream as it is mine?” My voice was as light as I could make it sound, trying not to push him towards an answer, to have him make his own decision. “It’s fine if it’s not.”

That knife again, threatening my heart. But I wanted him to be sure of his choice. I didn’t want to force my dreams on him.

Jamie pulled me towards him again, holding me so tight that I could barely breathe. “I didna mean it Claire, about school. I said that out of anger, for my da. For swimming.” His eyebrows furrowed in the absence of my response and he ran his hand along my cheekbone, as if to wipe invisible tears. “Ye do believe me, right?”

“I do,” I whispered, leaning into his touch. “It’s going to be okay.”

“Ye’ll help me then?” His lips found my forehead, lingering there, pressing against my skin.

“I will,” I said and exhaled loudly. “We’re going to have you ready for those A levels.”

“Thank ye, Sassenach. Thank ye for bearing with me.”

“Well, I have ulterior motives, don’t I?” I smiled, trying to lighten the mood. “I do want you at Oxford with me.”

Jamie chuckled and kissed me, his lips soft against mine. “I dinna ken what I’ve done to deserve ye, mo ghraidh, but I thank my luck every day for that gift.”

“Umhmm,” I smiled against his mouth, trapping his bottom lip between my teeth.

--

Jamie and I got organized. We put together a study plan, never breaking our schedule. Twice per week, I was taking my books and notes and rode to his place in a full teaching mode, determined to fill the gaps he’d created by totally disregarding any maths homework in months.

Ahead of the prospect of losing his swimming training and, consequently, all the meets his coach had planned for him, Jamie set on studying square roots and coefficients of quadratic equations, series and trigonometry. He wasn’t extremely happy for the task, and murmured things under his breath once too often, but he did it.

It wasn’t easy, but we had everything under control.

Not that we were always completely focused.

Not that Jamie hadn’t suggested that for every solved equation we would remove a piece of clothing.

Not that Ian had entered the room at that exact moment, turned red and suggested we’d inform him beforehand if we were actually studying or not. “That’s anatomy, by the way,” he’d said, chortling, as he closed the door, “Not maths.”

Not that Jamie wiggled his eyebrows at me, whispering, “When will we study A level Anatomy, my Sassenach?”

But, all in all, it was going well.

I usually stayed for dinner afterwards, the smell of Murtagh’s famous scrambled eggs or Ian’s spaghetti napolitana wafting into Jamie’s room, and making our stomachs growl. Lamb used to feign irritation with me for leaving him alone, but I could see the small smile on his face, no matter how much he was trying to hide it behind the paper he held.

The day Mr. McMahon asked to see Jamie after class, telling him that he could finally see in him the student he knew all the past years, we celebrated with fish and chips at Calton Hill.

Jamie relaxed and focused on his - now balanced - schedule. He got his confidence back, and was positive that he could win the Scottish National Open Championship and rock his A levels. More importantly, he stopped fighting with his dad over the phone, even though it was clear that Brian still wasn’t happy with Jamie’s training schedule. But at least he was now reassured that Jamie wouldn’t fail his A levels. He’d become the lad he was supposed to be, getting ready for the continuation of his education.

We had more than one reason to believe that Brian would let Jamie stay in Edinburgh over the Easter holidays. During our breaks from studying – when we weren’t extremely busy kissing or making out – we cuddled on his bed and whispered to each other, making plans for the two weeks we’d be all alone. We spoke our dreams softly in the quiet room, our voices floating around before taking shape; cherry blossoms over our heads as we’d walk through the city parks, the buzz of the people in the old town as we’d walk up the Royal Mile, the table we’d set to eat all alone, the nights we’d spend awake, making love. The days too – as Jamie pointed out. Jenny and Ian would go back home and Murtagh would be going to Paris with his mysterious woman. Not that Suzette was that mysterious, but we kept our mouths shut until he finally introduced her to us. She was living in the same apartment building, and it wasn’t that common for Murtagh to go grocery shopping - buying chia seeds for a neighbor.

With so many dreams ready to come true, Jamie asked his dad if he’d changed his mind a few days before the break. Everything was going according to the plan now, and he could stay back to continue studying and training.

Brian, however, answered with a definite “No.” He wanted Jamie to return to Lallybroch and work on the distillery. They would begin the fermentation of their new single malt and he wanted his son to be there. “To get to know things from the inside,” as he’d said.

Our dreams popped in the room, iridescent bubbles that held nothing but thin air.

Jamie looked at me with brooding eyes, unable to talk for a few minutes. “I canna believe he’s doing this to me. I dinna bloody care about his whisky!”

“Jamie,” I said, cupping his cheeks with my hands, bringing his forehead against mine. “It’s alright.”

It wasn’t alright, but I couldn’t make things worse by saying it aloud.

“Tis not alright. I’ve done everything he asked for!” His slumped shoulders sank a bit deeper and he brought his arms around me, pulling me into his embrace.

“You’ve done what you needed to do. For you, not for him. And he was negative from the beginning about you staying back, we should have expected that.”

But we hadn’t, because we fooled ourselves with cherry blossoms and endless kisses.

“It’s two weeks, Sassenach. What are we going to do for two whole weeks?”

I kissed the tip of his nose, his cheekbones, his lips. “We’ll text. We’ll video call.”

“We’ll count the days,” he said and I kissed his pout.

“Yes, that too.” I agreed, my hands leaving his cheeks to run through his silken hair.

His lopsided smile was the last thing I saw before he took my lips in his in a slow, long, burning kiss.

Two days later, I watched the train leaving from the central station and taking him away, his words reverberating in my head louder than any other sound around me.

“I miss you already, babe. So much.”

Chapter 36

[likethetailofacomet]

Talk, Part 2

Picking right up where we left off because there’s still a lot that needs to be said. Hold your breath, here it comes:

Pairing: Drake x Claire 

Warning: lots of swearing and difficult topics, mainly abortion. if this upsets you please scroll past. 

tagging: @sleepwalkingelite @ooo-barff-ooo @zaffrenotes @notoriouscs @gardeningourmet @natalievgoodehenry @endlessly-searching-for-you @indiacater @mind-reader1@nekkidmolerat if you would like to be added  or removed please let me know! 

Drake walked to the bar with Claire Berkley on his arm and a drum beat in his heart. For once in his life, even if for just a fleeting moment before he calmed himself down, told himself not to get ahead of himself...prepared himself for what he was about to do...for once in his life, Drake Walker felt like a million bucks. He glanced over to drink her in. Her strawberry- blonde- gone- golden hair, which usually hung loosely about her shoulders, was pulled back tonight, and he was drawn to the curve of her neck, to the place where her throat met her chest. His eyes roved further down to the slit in her dress that ran up to mid-thigh, thin black lines visible on the narrow wedge of exposed skin as she walked. That tattoo again, he thought, fingers tingling with wanting to trace it, to see what it was, to learn what, if anything it meant to her. He wanted to learn every freckle and every scar, count them and kiss them all. Slow down, idiot, she might still run away.

They arrived at the bar and Drake turned to her. “What are you drinking, Berkley?”

Claire brushed past him and spoke to the bartender. “Two double Blanton's, please, mine with a whiskey stone if you've got one?” The bartender nodded. She turned to Drake. “Chilled, Walker?” she asked him, shaking her head already knowing the answer. Oh shit, she's perfect. He shook his head and she turned back to the bartender. “The other neat, please.” The bartender prepared the drinks and she flashed him a smile and a thank you. Turning back to Drake, she handed him his drink. “You might have all the experience drinking the whiskey,” she said, clinking her glass to his and taking a small sip. “But don't forget that I know my way around a bourbon menu, too.” She winked at him.

“No,” he said, a smile slowly spreading across his lips. He raised his glass to take a sip and just before he did he said, “No, I could never forget that.” His memory flashed back to the night they'd met and the way they'd made eye contact when Maxwell asked to see a champagne list. “We'll just take a bottle of Blanton's and three tumblers, thanks,” he'd said, trying to hold back a stupid grin. She'd nodded, her eyes bright, rosy cheeks lifted high with suppressed laughter.

Claire cleared her throat and Drake realized that he'd been staring at her. “You, um...you said you wanted to talk?” she took another small sip, her ocean blue eyes locked on his.

Now or never. “Yes,” he nodded. “I uh,” he looked around as dozens of nobles and visiting dignitaries milled about. “Let's go somewhere a little more private. Is that alright?”

“Of course, lead the way,” she said, looping her arm through his once more. An electric jolt went through his veins as he realized that for the second time that evening, she'd voluntarily taken his arm.

He lead her to the balcony which had been furnished with big outdoor heaters, although Drake wasn't sure why as none of the nobles would dare go outside in the cold, even with the heaters. So soft, those people, he thought, remembering Claire coming after him without her coat.

“Are you warm enough?” he asked as they found a secluded nook against the balcony's ledge, right next to one of the towering heating devices.

Claire smiled and nodded. “Yeah, I live in New York, remember? It's the north east United States. Nor'easters are  kind of a big deal back home.” she smirked. “We're standing right next to this inferno,” she tilted her head towards the heater before taking a sip of her drink. “And,” she said, taking a step towards him, “I bet, Drake Walker, that you're the kind of man that would give a lady his jacket, if she were cold.” She eyed him with a mischievous grin. “Am I right?” she giggled.

Drake smiled. “Yeah, yeah, you got me pegged.” he said, shaking his head. No she doesn't. Not yet, she doesn't. “So I uh, I wanted to explain some things to you...about last night...a-about me, my life.” He bushed his fingers down her arm until they met hers, and he gently twined them together. “You,” she was looking at him, eyes wide, her perfect lips open slightly, listening intently, hanging on his every word. “You deserve to know what happened.”

“Drake, it's-” she started to protest. She wanted to tell him that it was alright, that he didn't have to tell her right now. She wanted him to be sure that he wanted to share this with her. Liam may not have told her any details, but he had told her everything with his reactions when he heard what Olivia had said, and she knew that this wasn't easy for Drake.

He held up a hand, gently cutting her off. “Berkley,” he said, “Please, can I tell you what happened?” Moonlight reflected in his eyes and she could see how earnest he was. For a brief second she thought she saw a look of exhaustion cross his face, and she realized that he was tired. Tired of carrying this weight, and that he was choosing her, asking her to help him carry it. She held her breath, trying to imagine herself opening the dark corners of her past for him to see. That can wait, she thought, as she smoothed her dress and leaned back against the ledge again. “Of course you can,” she said, her voice calm, even, trying to convey to him that he'd made the right choice, that he could trust her.

He nodded. “Savannah,” he said, voice faltering only slightly. He took a step to close the distance between them and leaned next to her, their arms just touching, a low hum of warmth passing between them. “Savannah is my sister. She was here, at court for a long time. When King Constantine offered me a place in the palace, he offered one to Sav too,” he smiled weakly, the corners of his mouth not quite pulling all the way up. “Savannah was enamored by the Royals and the Nobles. She was so happy, Berkley.” He looked over at Claire. “She loved the balls and the charity events. She probably had about 37 gowns, I swear,” he chuckled a little, shaking his head and looking down at his feet, seeming stuck on the memory of Savannah's wardrobe overflowing with beads and lace in every color.

“What happened to her, Drake?” Claire waited a full twenty count before asking, her voice still calm and encouraging, despite the anxious feeling that was growing in her chest as he got closer to the end of the story.

He sighed, keeping his eyes on his shoes. “She just...left one night. Middle of the night...just...left me a note saying she couldn't be here anymore and that she needed space...that” he cleared his throat and Claire knew it was to cover the hitch in his breath. She inched her arm closer to his so that they were pressed lightly together, and the small amount of contact gave him the strength to continue. “She said that I shouldn't come after her...that she needed to do 'this' on her own.” He looked up at her now, eyes pausing for a beat on the place where her lace was pressed to his suit. “I looked for her, of course. I mean...hell I was out of my mind, Berkley. I though she'd been kidnapped...or worse...you might not know this but Cordonia...” he swallowed hard. “It's not the safest place. I know it's all gold and glimmer in there,” he gestured to the Nevrakis estate. “But out there,” he pointed out over the balcony, “out there, there's a lot of different opinions on how the country should be run. There have been assassinations...people taken hostage... For the first few months those ideas haunted me. As time went on though...and no demands were made or other threats carried out...I realized that she just...” he sighed. “Just couldn't take this place anymore...didn't want anything to do with her old life, me included.”

He hadn't said that he and Savannah were close, but he didn't have to; Claire could tell just in the way his face fell as he told her the story. “Oh, Drake, I'm so sorry...I-” she bit her lip before tentatively uncrossing her arms and letting her hand grip his, limp at his side. She squeezed it. “How long has it been, since you've seen her?” she asked.

His voice cracked a bit as he answered, “almost two years now.”

“Do you still want to find her?” Claire was looking up at him, hand still holding his.

He swiveled his head to meet her gaze. “With everything in me.”

She nodded. “Okay. I'll help you.”

He felt his eyes go wide but couldn't keep it from happening. Here was this woman, this person who had fallen into his life in the most unconventional way possible, trying to shoulder his problems. For the past 29 years he'd been like Atlas, carrying the weight of his world alone. “Berkley...” he breathed, suddenly hit with emotion. “Thank you,” was all he could say.

She offered him a smile before quickly lifting up onto her tiptoes to give him a peck on the cheek. As she came back down to her heels and rested her head against his shoulder. They stayed like that for long minutes, the two of them silently finishing their drinks as Drake geared up for round two.

Liam had finally caught Olivia turning away from the last Lord in the receiving line. “Duchess,” he said, his voice taking a stately, but slightly stern tone. “A word, please?” He didn't wait for a response, simply placed his hand on her elbow and led her into the hallway.

“Your majesty,” she responded, an edge of sarcasm in her voice. She knew how much she could get away with when it came to Liam, and she also already had a sneaking suspicion that she knew what this “word” was going to be about. She suspected that Claire, that fucking bar maid had run to Liam telling him all about what had happened with Drake. Honestly, Olivia didn't care. She could certainly handle a tongue lashing from Liam. He didn't understand that it was worth it for her. He couldn't understand because no one he wanted would ever turn him down the way Drake had turned her down when they were younger, when she'd fallen in love with the brooding asshole. Liam couldn't understand that since she was 20 years old she'd been trying to find a way to hurt him as much as he'd hurt her, and she finally had.

Five years ago, the week of Landon's engagement ball, Olivia had followed Isla Pyke down the hall. She'd been laying awake in bed, pining again after Drake like an idiot, and she needed to go for a walk to get him off her mind. When she saw the ethereal looking blonde practically running, her bare feet slapping the tiles, the hint of a sniffle as Olivia realized the girl was crying. She felt her lips curl up as she followed at a distance.

It didn't take long for Olivia to realize that the woman was headed to Drake's room, and she got her confirmation as she hid in a doorway a few feet away, watching as Drake's strong arms scooped the tiny noble lady up and the door shut behind them. Oh, Olivia thought to herself, Oh, I'm sure Lord Pyke would want to know about this.

“Olivia,” Liam began once they were in a private location. “You have no idea what you're doing when you press those buttons,” his voice was still controlled, but she could tell that the snarl was fighting to come through.

“Oh please, Liam.” She rolled her dark eyes. “It's been five fucking years since Isla left his ass. So maybe I was the one who told Pyke about his daughter's extracurriculars. So what? And now he's got the bartender following him like a puppy. So what's there to be fucking sad about here?” She spat.

“Isla didn't leave Drake.” he said through clenched teeth. “She was dragged away from him by her father and forced to abort the baby that she was carrying. That she had just told Drake about. But you didn't know that part, did you, Duchess. No. You just thought of how you could hurt him, and you didn't stop to think that you might be going too far.”

Her eyes had gone wide. This was the first time she'd heard any of this- a shock as gossip spread quicker than wild fire around Cordonia. She tried to open her mouth to speak but she was hit in the gut with a realization that made it temporarily impossible to get a word out. She felt completely horrible, whatever affection she still carried for the man she'd been waiting years to hurt making her feel like she was crumbling from the inside. “Liam-” she gasped finally. “Liam I didn't know...I-” her eyes flew to his. “Liam,” she was shaking a bit. “I fucked up...I fucked up...”

“Yeah, well... I think it'll be okay. Claire is-”

“No, Liam! Damn it listen to me. You need to go find Drake. I...” she swallowed hard and forced herself to look the prince in the eye as she confessed the worst part of what she'd done. “Lord Pyke is here tonight.”

Drake and Claire were still leaning against the rail, Drake just about to make himself tell her about Isla, when Liam burst out into the night. “Drake,” he blurted, eyes doing a terrible job of hiding the panic in them.

Drake stiffened seeing the expression on his friend's face. He kept his hold on Claire's hand as he straightened, Liam taking three long strides before standing in front of him.

“What's wrong, Liam?” he asked, voice serious.

“You...” she stopped himself, taking in Drake and Claire's entwined hands. “You should call it a night, my friend.” he suggested firmly.

“What do you mean?” Drake asked, “We're only an hour in...is everything okay? Is everyone safe?” He glanced down at Claire and for a second she thought she saw concern flash across  his eyes.

“Yes, just...” Liam sighed. “There is some unexpected company...from up North.” They locked eyes and Drake knew.

Claire watched as he went white. “...Pyke...” he whispered, and Claire's heart fell through her ribcage.

Liam nodded. “I'm so sorry, Drake, I- I talked to Olivia...she...she knows that she made a terrible mistake... but he's already arrived.” Liam's face was pained for not being able to do more.

“It's alright, Liam...” Drake croaked.

Claire could hardly breathe. “Come on, Drake,” she gasped, “let's go, we can go to my room and... and talk, okay? You...don't have to see him.”

Drake nodded and Liam breathed a sigh of relief, mouthing a thanks to Claire. She offered a weak smile and followed Liam inside, arm in arm with Drake, as though she could keep him on his feet should he falter. A ridiculous idea- he towered over her.

As soon as they were back in the ballroom, they made for the grand entryway, but a distinct voice hit Drake's ear freezing him in place. Claire tried to take another step and felt herself rooted as Drake stood there.

“Yes, yes, Eric has married now and he'll inherit Essenwood, Dahlia and I are so pleased. And Isla, you know she was married to Duke Willings a few years back, up in England, yes. Well she's finally giving the man an heir! Yes, it took a while, but Isla is finally pregnant with her first child!”

First child.

The words echoed in Drake's ears. His breathing dropped out, coming in gasps now, shakes starting in his arms. First child.

Claire looked at the man who'd been speaking, standing just a few feet away talking with a group of nobles. His once blonde hair had started to gray, taking on a sickly pale yellow hugh, and his pock marked face looked like it physically couldn't form a kind shape. He stood in a way, head held high and chest puffed out, that told everyone just how important he thought he was. Claire wanted to choke him.

“Drake,” she whispered, tugging on his arm. “Come on.”

He snapped out of his frozen stupor and blinked down at her, nodding, and allowed himself to be pullde from the ballroom.

Out in the hall, Olivia paced waiting. When she saw the two of them leaving the ballroom she flew over. “Drake-” she called, voice cracking like Claire didn't think possible from the Ice Queen. “Drake, I'm so, so sorry, I...I didn't know about...about the...” she fell into sobs.

Drake couldn't say anything, just stared at the woman before him, her hands shaking, reaching out for him.

“Olivia,” Claire heard herself say. “Another time.” It wasn't a question or a suggestion. She was firm. Now was not the time.

The redhead nodded, tears still sliding down her face. “Another time,” she said, and watched Claire lead him away.

Once inside her room, Drake slumped into the window seat, shrugging his jacket off and loosening his tie. Claire kicked off her shoes and walked over to where he sat. Breathing slow and careful, she reached out for his face and cupped it between her hands. She placed a trembling kiss to his lips before climbing up into the window seat with him, hiking her dress us to do so. She settled into him, her back against his heartbeat. He wrapped his arms around her instantly, pulled her even closer. Claire didn't dare say a word.

“Isla was the first woman I loved,” he said after a long silence. His lips were buried in her hair, his breath tickling her scalp as he spoke. “Though I loved, anyway...thought she loved me...she...” he sighed. “She was a fairy tale, too delicate, too pure. She...didn't understand the world, not really. She thought...she thought she could love me and I wanted her to, so badly. I...it took a long time for me to realize that she never loved me. She couldn't have...”

Claire waited for him to continue, stroking the skin under his forearms lightly, trying to offer any comfort that she could. “She was pregnant...we...we were going to get married...move to Texas to be with my mom and...” he sighed, his chest going hollow for a moment, “And when her father found out he...”

Drake didn't need to finish. Claire knew what he was saying. She spun in his arms to face him. “Drake,” she said, sadness creeping into her voice, “I'm so sorry that you've had so much loss. That...that you've had so much pain. You...you're a good man, Drake Walker. You deserve happiness.” She kissed him, soft, her lips grazing his jawline, his eyelids. He felt himself exhale, felt himself let go. He'd told her about his past, and here she was, not running, not letting anything drag her away. She was here, in his arms. She said he deserved happiness. He thought maybe she could be that for him. He pulled her into a kiss that told her what his words couldn't, yet; that he was falling in love with her, that he was doing something he never thought would be possible again...and that it was because of her that he might have a chance at happiness again.

[novantinuum]

A Link Beyond Memory (ch 2/4)

AO3

Fandom: Trollhunters, 3Below

Rating: T (for minor language in future chapters)

Words: 600~

Pairings: Jim/Claire, but not focus

Summary: Shortly after the events of the Eternal Night, memories of a day that never happened somehow resurface in Jim’s mind in his sleep- and upon recalling the friendship he and Aja formed, he decides to pursue that connection again. Slice of life, and kinda a slow burn friendship reunion. A hybrid of prose and chat fic (to be seen in later chapters.)

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Note: Unfortunately, fic circulation online is getting harder and harder as the months pass. Please, if you read to the end and enjoy, consider helping me out by reblogging this post, or even commenting/giving kudos over on AO3. Thanks! :D

Chapter 2: Transit

Transit- The instant when a celestial object crosses the meridian, thus reaching the highest point in the sky.

~

T: hhhh miss ya already. tbh i dont know what im supposed to do this summer now ahah

T: i was all looking forward to hangin with you and claire and everyone else in trollmarket and now…

T: i mean i still have aaarrrgghh. and darci and eli too i guess but

T: really starting to wish i came along.

T: i know you said to watch over the town while youre gone and i know thats a good point but honestly i just wanna be with you

T: jim?

T: yoooo ? did u die

T: god i hope not after all the end of the world chaos thatd be really anticlimactic

J: Sorry no I lost signal for a bit!! Miss you too gahhh.

T: pls know if you so much as say the word ill crawl on the first airplane i can find and launch myself directly at your face

T: jim liSTEN jim im not even kidding

T: screw arcadia

T: if you need me im there

J: Omg I’ll defo keep that in mind

T: ..jk dont screw arcadia tho i love this place. also its already screwed enough at this point so

T: hey but you think merlin could make me another warhammer for my growing arsenal?

J: Yeah I think he could be easily convinced.

J: He’s kinda sucking up to me now hahah

J: He already made Claire a sorta necklace amulet to store her armor so a magic hammer should be no problem

T: awesomesauceee

J: Any particular reason lol?

T: i dunno i just think itd look wicked cool to double wield, like general orzan from gun robot three. also lets be real after all the crap he put us through we deserve S W A G

J: I’ll ask tomorrow. Hey quick Q for you though

J: Well okay not exactly quick  

J: It’s actually a long story but-

T: ye?

J: Do you happen to have Aja’s number or anything?

J: We took her and her bro down to the Janus Order, lightning in a bottle, remember her?

T: ye i know- lively! and uhhh don’t think i do? havent really talked to them since why

J: I get the strangest sense we’re supposed to know them more than we do. Had a really weird dream but it felt more like a lost memory. Think it’s an amulet thing, like that alternate timeline it made me live through once?

T: huh funky

J: Also supposedly according to the dream/memory both Aja and Krel are… not from Earth?

T: dude no offense but are you sure it wasnt just a normal dream

J: Seriously.?

J: Merlin turned me into a fucking TROLL and aliens are where you decide to draw the line

T: okay yknow thats fair

T: i take that back  

T: okay so,, aja and krel are MAYBE aliens. got that. go onnn

J: What I saw honestly felt so real, I swear. It was two weeks ago, at the science fair. We were fighting a troll in the planetarium with them, and the troll kept combining magic with some alien tech, which kept reversing everyone back to the beginning of the day, like a time loop or something. But I could remember everything bc of the amulet. Aja remembered bc of some energy shield she had. We lived through the same day almost a dozen times.

T: whoa…

J: And get this- in some of those loops we even went to their house and got to look around inside their spaceship! But none of us are supposed to recall any of it bc technically the entire day never happened? It’s how we defeated the troll, that bit’s a little fuzzy. A lot of technobabble sorry.

T: goddd out of all the days to forget huh

J: Right??

J: I guess… if she remembered all of this before I’m kinda curious if she still remembers now too. If it really happened. We were friends in that memory. It’d be nice to maybe get to know her again, y’know?

T: okay you’re prob gonna hate me for suggesting this but i THINK steve has her number

T: bc i was talking to darci and she said that mary told her that aja and steve are like, a thing now

T: a Thing thing

T: i believe her exact words were ‘staja’ ?

J: Oh my god how’d that happen is he even capable of proper flirting

T: well if shes an alien like you think then maybe she doesn’t know what human flirting looks like

J: Haha maybe indeed. I’ll go talk to him thanks

J: G’night Tobes love ya

T: night buddy <3

(my notes from ao3:)

Admission, I had far too much fun with the text format. I've never attempted anything like it, but I especially wanted to create unique "character voices" that extended into the way they each type- which was a cool challenge.

I imagined Toby as the sort of person who types out his thoughts far too quickly to care about punctuation, and IMO if Trollhunters was set just a year later (I generally just imagine it all set in 2016) he'd be keymashing. Jim is more of a full sentence type of guy who never turned off auto capitalization.

ALSO, a note on the contact photos- (Jim's which I directly took from a screenshot from Claire's phone, and Toby's which I edited from some 2D concept art)- That's the photo Jim uses for Toby's contact, and I imagine there's probably some inside joke where Jim took a really derpy photo of him at one point and they laughed so hard about it that he immortalized it as his contact. Jim's personal contact photo is... well, as this all takes place post s3 of course, a rather sad reminder of his loss of humanity. He can't bother himself to change it currently.

Future chapters will likely be a mix of text AND prose, instead of one or the other. Hope you enjoyed!