#all alone again and the only one who can - and must - uphold his family's legacy

[justafriend-ql]

This is the problem I will face for the rest of my life. NEVER LET ME GO Episode 10

[keytomythoughts]

Perfect Imperfections | Chapter 2

Chapter Index

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“Wait, you’re making your debut soon? You were still a trainee when I was in high school, right?”

He nods, one hand on the steering wheel while the other hangs outside of the car. “The company told me a month ago, so we’ve been practicing like crazy. Fortunately, practice ended early today, so I was able to swing by and pick you up from the train station.”

I smile smugly, punching his arm playfully. “Aww, you did miss me. Look at that.”

He snorts but doesn’t refute my statement. 

The evening sky is dusted in shades of rose, gold, and soft orange, the mix enveloping the horizon similar to a canvas being brushed with aesthetic paints. The clouds hang low, the sun casting shadows on the tallest of buildings with its warm, pale-yellow glow. The wind doesn’t nip at us sharply, instead shifting to a more calming, serene breeze. 

The car ride shouldn’t have lasted as long as it did, but I realize halfway that he was purposely taking the longer routes home. Sensing my lurking apprehension from our phone call hours ago, my brother picked up on that cue and decided to distract me as much as he could before we inevitably had to return.

Something my parents failed to realize. 

“Oh right, I forgot to ask,” Jaehyun stares ahead and switches lanes with ease, heading towards yet another highway, “how are Eunwoo and Moonbin?”

I did mention that Eunwoo and Jaehyun are close friends as well, so it wasn’t surprising when I found out that he knows of my friends circle. Well, those two really. Imagine my horror when I realized that they were the same age and friends. Shocking at first, but I got used to it. Besides, it’s not like we were awkward about it or anything. Moonbin also knew my brother, so we all essentially got along fairly well. 

I push the strands of hair away from my face, glancing down at my phone in my lap to find no new notifications from them since I last texted. Sighing, I look out to my right. “They’re fine. Both of them are gonna be in Seoul for the summer, so we’re just planning on hanging out until college starts.”

“Have you guys decided where to go, what you want to study?” 

I shrug my shoulders. “Not really. I mean, I’ve been thinking about medicine at Korea University, but,” I sink into the seat a little, sighing, “you know it’s not up to me.” My voice drops to a whisper near the end, my eyes casting towards the road ahead. 

Jaehyun turns to me, taking his hand off the steering wheel to gently pat my arm. “I know, sis. I really do. But still,” he removes his hand and places it back on the wheel, his eyes refocusing back on the road, “you should tell them what you want to do. Who knows, they might listen this time.”

I snort, crossing my arms over my chest. I tilt my head back against the seat, turning to look at my brother. “You really think so?”

To this, he doesn’t respond. How could he? It would be a lie meant to comfort me, but we both know the truth. He simply sighs, running a hand through his hair and leaving it behind his neck. I heave another sigh as well, both of us knowing that things may not work out the way we would like them to. 

This wouldn’t be the first time anyways.

We exit the freeway and merge onto the familiar streets of my neighborhood. Soon enough, we were pulling up into our driveway, the nervousness replacing the initial excitement of being back home. Jaehyun turns off the engine, neither of us making a move to leave the car first. Of course, with my nerves shot and breathing shallow, there would be no way I could go inside alone. Lucky for me, I’m not.

But why can’t I shake this sick feeling?

Jaehyun reaches out and squeezes my hand once, flashing that stupid grin of his at me. “C’mon, let’s go inside. Your oppa will protect you~”

I swat his hand away, my nose wrinkling in disgust but the laughter bubbles in my throat. He rubs my head again before removing his shades and stepping out of the car. Before I can unbuckle and step out myself, Jaehyun already stands at my side, holding my luggage. He waits patiently until I close the door behind me, my steps wavering slightly as I stand before the elaborately carved wooden door of our house. 

Jaehyun nudges my shoulder, smirking. “It won’t bite, Hyu.”

I roll my eyes as I follow right behind him. He unlocks the door and turns the doorknob and disappears past the threshold. I trail close behind him, a breath catching in my throat as I walk towards the living room. Everything was the way I remembered it, minus the new decorative pieces presumably from my father’s visits abroad. Living as a surgeon requires him to embark on trips overseas, sometimes not returning for months at a time. My mother, on the other hand, doesn’t actively practice surgery, instead deciding to teach as a medical professor at a top university in the northern district of Seoul. 

Four years and nothing has changed, huh? 

Jaehyun states that he’s going to put my belongings in my room before coming back down, and I nod at him. Just as he ascends up the stairs, my mother emerges from the kitchen, smoothing down the front of her lavish apron, a tight smile adorning her small, petite face. Her reddish-brown hair is worn in a small bun, her glasses hanging from her shirt. I won’t lie to you, my mother is a beautiful woman, even in her late forties. Smart, rich, and insanely polished. Not only her, but my father is the same as well. It’s no surprise where my brother gets his enviable features from, while I question what leftovers were given to me. I never believed myself to be smart or beautiful, like my parents. Nor was I carefree and sociable, like my brother. Sometimes I question if I was ever adopted, seeing as I seem to be my family’s outlier. The odd-one-out. Yet, Moonbin and Eunwoo highlighted those little bits of me that I’ve shamed myself on. Where I saw disappointment, they saw genuity. The “flaws” were my strengths. They prided me on the things my parents didn’t view so favorably. 

How I wish they were with me right now.  

My mom approaches me, enveloping me in a rather tight embrace. Wasn’t expecting that, but I reciprocate the action anyway.

“Hyuna, dear, I’m so glad you’re home,” she pulls away, grabbing me by my arms as her eyes scan my face, smiling, “and you’ve gotten so much prettier. I see your aunt took care of you well, I’m glad.” She places a hand against my cheek.

I smile nervously. “Happy to be back, mom. Sorry for not informing you and dad that I was coming back today.”

She shakes her head, tapping my cheek lightly before moving away from me. “Nonsense, dear. Your father is in his study, so he’ll be down shortly. I know how very tired you must be, so let’s set the table for dinner.” She shuffles back towards the kitchen, soon bringing out various utensils and a stack of plates. I immediately grab them from her and arrange the items on the table for the four of us. My mom kisses the top of my head and smooths my hair down, returning to the kitchen so she could bring out the meals. 

Something’s not right here.

My mother isn’t really the affectionate type. While it was blatantly obvious that I wasn’t the favorite child, that title reserved for Jaehyun (again, no surprise there), they didn’t really hate me, if that makes sense. They just tended to leave Jaehyun to do as he pleases, while I would have to listen to them. I don’t doubt that they care for us both, as good parents should, but I can’t help but feel disheartened when they would dismiss my feelings and decide to enforce their own ideals on me. Claiming that this would be “the best for me”.

As much as I respect my parents for raising me to be the ambitious, hardworking woman that I am, a part of me wishes that they would see me as a person with hopes and aspirations of my own, not just an extension of their legacy. 

How could they decide what’s best for me when I don’t even have the ability to voice them myself?

Moments later, my father descends from the stairs, my brother walking down from behind him as well. It seems like he’s been busy with office meetings, seeing as he’s still dressed in his formal beige button-up shirt and black dress pants. His glasses sit perfectly on the bridge of his nose, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his pants. 

I bow my head in respect. “Good evening, Father.”

He acknowledges my presence with a curt nod. No surprise again. He’s a man of few words, but when he does speak, he’s blunt and gets straight to the point. Wasting time and skirting around the truth has never been his philosophy. He practically radiates with superiority and firmness. From the stoic expression on his face to his neatly styled brown hair, my father was nothing short of a posh man in his early fifties. The best surgeon, the perfect doctor, the staple of all admirable men in South Korea.

In short, he’s practically worshipped by professionals across the nation. 

Naturally, my brother and I take great pride in our parents and our family’s rather successful and lavish legacy. Of course, with this reputation, it’s expected of us to uphold it. Education must be nothing short of challenging. Careers must be everything but disappointing. Appearances had to be pristine, no flaws or shortcomings apparent.

You get the picture.

My brother attended college for a short while—a year and a few months, if I’m not wrong—before dropping out once he got scouted by a reputable entertainment label. I don’t know specific details, but I do know that my parents weren’t initially too pleased to hear that he wanted to pursue a career as an idol singer. Nonetheless, and with the things Jaehyun was allowed to get away with, this was just another thing to be added to that list. I figured my father would come around and think that the Jungs shouldn’t be limited to more “sophisticated” fields—medicine, law, business, and the like. Branching out and including fine arts, including performance, would only solidify the notion that our family is meant to dominate every field imaginable with integrity and poise. 

My mother and I finish setting up the table and call for the rest to sit. Seeing the variety of dishes laid out, you would think it was a special occasion. Surely they weren’t celebrating my graduation as class Valedictorian. I haven’t told them any of my accomplishments, but I’m sure they had their means of getting access to my reports even before I was made aware of them. Connections, the most vital thing in the Jung family. It’s what helps us climb ranks and secure top positions in society. Why we’re so heavily respected, as well as feared. 

Jaehyun and I sit adjacent to each other while our parents are seated across us. We begin to eat in silence. Nothing too different from how we had family dinners back then, albeit the absence of my father or mother from late meetings or an overseas conference. To be quite frank, it did seem strange to have a meal with all of us present after so long.

My father suddenly clears his throat. “Hyuna, I heard from the teachers at your high school that you performed excellently. I’m pleased to hear this.”

I pause, my eyes training up to meet his steady gaze. Though pleased, he didn’t seem to express it facially. A direct complement is seldom said, so it comes as no surprise that it was the only thing I, or my brother, would be receiving. 

Jaehyun nudges me, realizing that I hadn’t responded as my father awaits with the same steady expression.    

“O-Oh, thank you, Father.”

He nods, placing his utensil back down on the plate before clasping his hands in front of him.

“Now that you’ve graduated, have you considered your possible college options and future career plans?”

This. This is the very question I’ve been dreading.

I can feel the air around me grow thick with anticipation. His words hang in the air, the words to respond with the scripted lines I’ve recited endlessly in my brain unable to fall from my lips. I suddenly recall what Jaehyun and Moonbin had told me prior, to try and voice my opinions in hopes that they may be heard and properly considered this time. After all, I would never know if I didn't try. Here’s my chance.

But, my father continues upon my brief hesitation. “With your academic record, you would have no issue enrolling in the top universities within the country. Even abroad, if you considered that as well.”

I gulp, my fingers clenching tightly in my lap. I force my rapid heart to slow its pace in fear that it may burst out of my chest, my breathing trying to be as calm as it can be. I can feel Jaehyun eyeing me from the side, and my mother stops eating as well. 

There’s silence. One which I break when I open my mouth to let the words bottled up in my mind spill out before I can properly think them through.

“I want to stay here, in Seoul.”

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 

[bytheangell]

Ahead of Ourselves

(Read on AO3) Square Filled: Doctor AU for @shadowhunterbingo Pairing: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood Rating: Teen and Up  – Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Summary:   A lot of the hospital staff thinks that Dr. Lightwood is a little heartless... but Magnus discovers he might just be as good at acting a he is at medicine. -------------

Magnus doesn’t bother to hide his displeasure at being paired with Alec Lightwood for today’s surgery. As the son of the owners of the hospital, Alec gets whatever he wants whenever he wants it, and Magnus might hate him a little bit for it. After fighting so hard to get where he is, Magnus can’t help the sting of jealousy to see someone handed everything he ever wanted. Sure, Alec’s good at what he does, but in Magnus’ humble opinion he’s no better than the rest of them.

He’s also an asshole.

Mangus allows himself a moment of indulgent whining with Catarina on one of their lunch breaks over sad excuses for salad from the cafeteria. “Think about it - when was the last time you saw him eat, or sleep, or get upset? I’m telling you - a robot.”

Okay, maybe Magnus is getting ahead of himself since ‘asshole’ gives Alec the illusion of having enough feelings to even be rude - Magnus has a running joke with some of his friends at the hospital that Alec Lightwood is, in fact, an emotionless surgical robot that the Lightwoods created to pa their legacy down to. No matter how many patients he loses Magnus has never, not once, seen the man shed a single tear. He delivers bad news to families without batting a single, perfectly full eyelash.

He’s cold and uncaring and Magnus doesn’t particularly want to know what sort of person can be that way.

Alec’s sister, the resident forensic pathologist, insists that Magnus should try to get to know him better, that he really isn’t all that bad underneath it all. Magnus tries a few times, and he almost manages to get Alec to crack a smile at some shitty pun he made before Alec reminds him that they are working and it isn’t a time for jokes.

So when Magnus sees his name listed on the board under Alec’s, he knows he’s in for a long, boring, silent surgery later that night.

Unfortunately, all the quiet focus in the world isn’t enough to save their patient. Magnus curses, slamming his fist on the table next to him with tears stinging his eyes before the final, frantic beep fades into a flatline.

“Time of death,” Alec announces, voice so frustratingly neutral as he takes off his gloves that Magnus’ tears double in frustration at the sound of it. “11:08 pm.”

Magnus takes one look at the girl on the table and is already starting to run through a million split-second decisions, wondering if there was anything they could’ve done differently to ave her. They knew the odds on this one were bad, but they weren’t 0% - he just wasn’t good enough.

Alec takes one look at him and Magnus can practically feel the judgment despite Alec’s usual stone-faced demeanor. This isn’t the first patient Magnus lost, and it won’t be the last, but each one hits just as hard.

“I’ll talk to the family. You go pull yourself back together before rounds.”

And then he’s gone.

Magnus does, of course, pull himself back together in time for his rounds, with the help of Catarina’s reassurances that he can’t save everyone and nobody expects him to - not the Lightwoods, or the other staff, or even the patients.

When Magnus finally gets a chance to nap for a few minutes it seems as if everyone else has the same idea - after trying all the usual on-call rooms he normally crashes in during his long shifts, Magnus finds an empty cot in one of the farther corners of the hospital, in a wing so barely used he’s honestly surprised it isn’t blocked off by now.

He also finds someone else already sitting in the dark - Magnus might not have even noticed in his current state of exhaustion if they weren’t obviously crying.

“Don’t worry, I can sleep through some crying, pretend I’m not even here,” Magnus says, expecting his attempt at lighthearted comfort to be aimed at some intern who came out of the way to avoid anyone seeing them upset.

“Fuck,” he hears instead, followed by a sniffle and the sound of hands frantically wiping at a face.

He knows that voice, even in the dark.

“...Doctor Lightwood?”

“Just… shit. No one ever comes up here. Sorry,” Alec says, voice shaky with more emotion than Magnus thought him capable of.

Magnus hesitates.

He could follow his own suggestion and pretend Alec isn’t even there. He should. But he can’t, because he heard that tell-tale sign of crying and would feel too guilty just pretending he didn’t.

“Can I turn on the light?” Magnus asks.

“I’d rather you didn’t,” Alec mutters.

“...do you, uh, want to talk about it?” Magnus tries.

“If I did would I be hiding out in here?” Alec counters. “I’m fine. I just need a minute then I’ll get out of your hair.”

“Mmhmm,” Magnus agrees. He picks an empty cot and tries to close his eyes, but he can’t bring himself to actually fall asleep now. He tosses over once, then twice, before giving up.

“Okay, but you don’t get upset. Or angry. Or happy. So this is weird, and I can’t just let it go,” Magnus says finally.

“Would it make you feel better if I told you I do this all the time, so really, it isn't a big deal?” Alec offers.

Magnus frowns. “...that doesn’t make me feel better at all,” he admits. “What do you mean ‘all the time’? You never do this.”

“Yes, I do. I just never let anyone see me do it. Do you think my parents are going to stand for their son walking around crying on a daily basis? Or, like, ever?” Alec huffs out a derisive laugh. “They have a reputation to uphold, which means I have a reputation to uphold. Heaven forbid a Lightwood has anything that can even vaguely be perceived as a flaw.”

Well shit. Magnus wasn’t ready for any of this, and honestly, he isn’t sure what to do with it now that it’s sitting heavy in the room. “You’re allowed to have emotions. You’re not - contrary to rumors I may or may not have started personally - an actual robot.” Magnus winces.

“Tell that to my parents,” he says. “I’m honestly not sure which they’ll be more upset over - losing the patient in the first place, or letting it get to me like this. I shouldn’t have let either happen tonight, let alone both.” Alec gives a rough sniff, and Magnus’ eyes are adjusted enough to the dim light that filters in through the window now that he can see Alec fidgeting with his hands and biting on his lower lip.

Magnus hates how casually Alec talks down on himself, despite the fact that Magnus himself was very sarcastically saying the same things about him not too long ago. Isabelle was right - he just needed to get to know Alec a little better. He hates her for that.

“No one’s perfect. NOt even you, apparently. I’m not going to lie, it’s refreshing to know. But I’m, uh, sorry you feel like you need to be. Guess no familial pressure is the one up-side to not having any family left.” Magnus wonders if maybe opening up a bit himself will encourage Alec to do the same. “If you ever want to talk-”

“Listen, I don’t need you to feel bad for me. Sorry for dumping all that shit on you just now, I don’t know what came over me. Just pretend this never happened, and you can go back to talking shit about me to my sister and everyone else in this hospital, and I can go back to keeping this room for myself.” There’s an edge to Alec’s tone like he just realized everything he’s been saying since he started what seems to be an entirely accidental venting he probably wishes he could take back. Magnus can practically feel him putting a wall up between them.

“Alexander-” Magnus starts, but Alec stands and crosses the room to the door before he can say anything more.

“I should go. Get some rest, Doctor Bane.” And just like Alec closes himself off again, leaving Magnus alone in the dark.

---

The problem is that Magnus can’t just pretend it never happened. He wants to. His life would be a lot easier if he did, probably. But instead, he finds himself watching Alec, really observing him, now that he knows what to look for.

Magnus can tell when Alec is intentionally pushing others away and closing himself off, and it’s almost always right before, and immediately after, surgeries. Magnus always thought that his kind bedside manner was the show he put on for patients but it doesn’t take long to realize that that is more the real Alec than anything else. It’s the cold, calculated version of himself he keeps on in the hallways and around his peers that’s the act.

And god, how tiring that must be for him, Magnus realizes.

Magnus also starts to notice the periods of time Alec’s nowhere to be found, and no one seems particularly inclined to go looking for him if it isn’t an emergency - except Magnus knows exactly where Alec goes now. The next time a surgery goes wrong Magnus slips a note underneath the door telling Alec that everyone is talking about how he did his best, better than anyone else would’ve done under the same circumstances.

The next time Alec loses a patient and needs to inform the family Magnus finds out his favorite hospital-accessible comfort food from Isabelle (which happens to be the greasiest burger Magnus has ever seen) and leaves it on the table in Alec’s usual hideout.

All the while nothing changes between the two of them. Magnus still makes terrible jokes that Alec only rolls his eyes at, before walking off without a single word and ignoring him just as much as - if not even more than - he did before. It’s a good thing Magnus is nothing if not persistent, and hardly deterred by a little silent treatment when he tries to say hi a bit more often in the hallways.

The more Magnus tries to get him to open up again, the more Alec closes off. He even yells at Magnus in the hallway over something so trivial Magnus forgets about it by the end of the day.

Through it all Magnus continues to leave little notes and pick-me-up gifts for Alec (Isabelle, upon realizing what he’s doing, is more than willing to provide him with all the inside information he needs for things like Alec’s favorite color or coffee order. She also tells him Alec’s favorite flower, and while he’s stunned that Alec even has a favorite flower Magnus also has to insist that isn’t what this is at all before poor Izzy gets ahead of herself).

Not that Magnus can really say what it is he’s doing, or why he’s doing it, which proves to be a problem a few weeks later when Alec loses another patient, and Magnus shows up to Alec’s ‘secret room’ only to find the door open and Alec waiting for him inside.

“What are you doing?” Alec demands, arms crossed.

“Bringing you a burger because I know you aren’t going to let yourself eat anything the rest of the night otherwise,” Magnus says simply.

“Why?”

“...because when we don’t eat, we starve. It’s like, human body 101.” Magnus deflects.

“You know what I mean,” Alec says, not letting him get out of it that easily.

“I don’t know… because no one should have to go through the stuff we go through alone the way you do. I know you didn’t want me around-around, so I just wanted to remind you that you weren’t alone.” Magnus shrugs, setting the plate down on the table near the door.

“But I was a dick to you,” Alec points out.

“Yup,” Magnus agrees. “That’s what happens when you bottle all your emotions up and push everyone away.”

Alec rolls his eyes. “I don’t know what Isabelle’s been saying, but-”

“She hasn’t,” Magnus reassures him. “It’s just kind of obvious once you start looking.”

“...and you’ve been looking?” Alec asks, curiously, with one scarred eyebrow arched.

“Not in, like, a creepy way or anything,” Magnus finds himself backtracking under Alec’s accusatory stare.

To his surprise, Alec laughs.

“Sorry. That was mean,” Alec says, and Magnus realizes with a strange mixture of horror and amazement that Alec’s teasing him. “I’m not going to lie, I saw you talking with Izzy a few times and thought she was putting you up to this.”

Magnus shakes his head. “Nope. Just me, all on my own, sticking my nose where it doesn’t belong,” Magnus confirms.

Alec looks down at the burger again, and then back up at Magnus. “Do you want to stay?”

Magnus, remembering why he came here in the first place, knows there isn’t a chance in hell he’s leaving Alec alone if he actually wants company right now.

“Sure,” Magnus agrees and watches as Alec makes impressive use of the plastic silverware the food comes with to cut the burger in half before offering it to Magnus.

They both sit down at the edge of the cot and eat, first in silence, and then with some semi-casual conversation, as far as two doctors on shift at a hospital can manage ‘casual’ without work-related topics cropping up here and there.

Alec is just starting to relax when his name is paged to one of his patient’s rooms over the intercom system.

Alec’s on his feet and to the door without a second thought, but pauses there to stop and look back at Magnus.

“Before I go,” he says, glancing anxiously at the speaker in the ceiling as if afraid it might cut him off before he finishes whatever he wants to say.

“Yes?” Magnus prompts, drawing Alec’s attention back to him.

“I was wondering if, maybe, I could repay you for the meal sometime?” Alec asks, and while it definitely sounds like he’s asking Magnus out there’s also, infuriatingly, not a single concrete part of that sentence that confirms Magnus’s suspicion.

“You can get me a burger from the cafeteria any time you want,” Magnus agrees.

“No, I- that is-” Alec starts again, and this time his name is repeated over the speakers and he curses again. “I’d like to take you out to dinner. If you want.”

“I’d like that,” Magnus agrees just as easily.

“Really?” Alec says, eyes widening just a little before he recovers quickly. “Right. I’ll see when we both have off and I’ll set something up, then.”

Just as quickly Alec’s gone, disappearing down the hallway.

When Magnus catches a few murmurings during his rounds of how strange everyone finds it that Doctor Lightwood is smiling a suspicious amount all of a sudden he keeps his own smile small and to himself.

And when he shows up to dinner two nights later he makes a mental note to thank Isabelle for getting ahead of herself as he watches the way Alexander’s entire face lights up at the sight of the single peony Magnus brought for him, beaming as he tucks it into his jacket pocket.

Alec has that effect, it seems, as Magnus sits across from him at dinner and does his best to not get too ahead of himself, either… but when Alec starts tossing out ideas for a second date before the first is even over, Magnus realizes he might not be the only one.

[brucewaynehastoomanykids]

Forced Marriage

Requested by Wattpad user principepena

This kinda goes in ties with my 'Damirae Week Day 5: Soulmates' chapter. (You can go back and read it if you forgot :)) It's the same sort of universe, but it's a bit of an alternative story to that.

_____________________________________

"Curse this day." I mumbled to myself.

I have always had a bad feeling about my father joining in alliance with the Al Ghul's. Ra's al Ghul was a snake to everyone he came across, who's to say his daughter, the current leader, would be any different? I suppose that's why they made the agreement they did, to show there was 'no harm, no foul,' but I personally don't buy it for a second, and I can only pray that father doesn't either. Truth be told, I have my suspicions that the only reason Talia al Ghul wants me to marry her son is to either use me against my own father or keep me prisoner strictly for the purposes of continuing the bloodline should she pass and her son rule. And the kicker of all of this? Her grandchildren would have the blood of Trigon the Terrible inside of them, as well as the now fallen Ra's. I must say, my children would be a true legacy.

I stare out onto the world. From Hell, the world above seems so small and meaningless, never really knowing it's purpose in this universe. Hell and Azarath, we both have... or should I say, had a purpose. Slaying down Azarath in the name of Trigon was the best decision I never made in my youth. It gained me the respect I deserved. And now, I lay in wait for that respect to be taken from me and be thrown into that confusing world to marry a spoiled brat.

I sigh. "I should sleep while I can," I told myself, "If I wait for tomorrow, tomorrow is coming. If I don't wait for tomorrow, tomorrow is still coming."

Though sleep was most definitely not an option. I ended up spending the night hours wondering and worrying about my future, and for my father. What if he was in danger by this? What if the League of Assassins just wanted him out of the way? Questions like this continued to make there way into my mind and before I knew it, it was daybreak, and I was to be married to a stranger in a few short hours.

~

There was no ceremony, no vows, or family visits as you'd see in traditional weddings. It was just me, my husband, and his mother in a room. She told us both to sign some papers and to exchange rings and, boom, we were married.

My husband, who I had just learned to be called Damian, was a very peculiar character. He didn't speak a word through the process of marriage and kept his stunning emerald eyes away from me. It was as if this poor boy was entranced to do this sort of thing by nature like he had practiced over and over again. Part of me wondered if he was doing this completely unaware of his surroundings.

That night, I had overheard him arguing with his mother. He, too, apparently didn't want this wedding as much as I had. He told her how it was a 'horrendous decision on her part' and that 'he alone was powerful enough to lead the League without the assistance of a partner'.

Once he had seen I was eavesdropping. He glared, looked me up and down and scoffed without saying a word.

"Look, I know this situation is... unwanted, for either of us, and I know we don't know each other well, but I'm still worried about you despite this. No one deserves to keep so much anger locked away." I told him, calmly.

He almost instantly stopped in his tracks and faced me. "Don't worry so much if you know what's good for you. I'll end up breaking that little empathetic heart of yours in two if you do." And with that, he walked away again.

"It's bold of you to assume my life hasn't already torn it to shreds..." I mumbled, mostly to myself.

~

Months have past sense. And while Damian and I are still tense, we at least talk to one another. We came to realize we had a lot of similar interests, such as literature and spirituality. I've found that, when he wants to be, Damian is a very kind person, but there is so much rage bottled inside of him that blocks that kindness, a rage that he takes out on anything and anyone in sight, even me. Even his mother.

And speaking of parental figures, I hadn't heard news of my father since my wedding. Though father is an all-powerful demon, the conqueror of worlds, and just all-around god material, I'm starting to grow worried for him, if I'm honest. I kept thinking to myself if what I had feared most were true, that the League of Assassins only wanted me to get my father out of the way, and if that's the case... may God spare Talia and Damian al Ghul from my wrath. I need answers. I need them now.

That night I decided to sneak away from Damian and wonder the palace looking for those said answers. I climbed out of bed and sipped on my cloak.

"It's too late for you to be out by yourself, you know..." Damian said, rolling his body over to face me at the door, "you could get in trouble of you stumble into the wrong area."

I scoffed, glaring at him slightly. "Oh spare me! Please stop pretending you care about me when I know you don't."

"And what exactly gives you that notion?" He cocked a brow.

"Well, for one, it took you weeks just to even hold a conversation with me that wasn't about how much you hate the marriage, which leads me to my other point: you absolutely despise being married to me and you know it."

"Actually, I quite enjoy your company. I'm just... shall we say, not good at this sort of thing? I've never had any friends let alone a wife. Honestly, I'm still trying to figure out how to speak to you properly as well as how to act. But you shouldn't use that to question if I care for you, because I do."

"Right... well..." I was a bit lost for words, honestly. Then, I remembered my father, and why I needed to leave, "I really do have to go, Damian." I walked out before he could question anything.

~

It was always so easy to get lost in this place without a proper guide, then again, I wasn't exactly going to just ask someone to accompany me while I go into Talia's room search through her belongings. I knew Talia wasn't going to be in her room for some time. A sort of 'business meeting' as she called it with an unknown allied group.

Eventually, I had found what I was looking for, the alliance agreement my father had signed upon. It was shocked at its contents.

"By signing this document, I uphold the agreement(s) stated today as they are as followed: no harm is done to Trigon the Terrible or his daughter, Rachel Roth, no harm done to the al Ghul family or the League of Assassins as a whole, fair usage of both sides with food, shelter, weapons, soldiers, and war should it come, and the marriage of Rachel Roth and Damian al Ghul as a token of solidarity to this contract. Know if one party is to break one of these agreements, punishment will be seen and decided at the ruler level (ie. Trigon, Rachel, Talia, and/or Damian).

Signed: Trigon the Terrible and Talia al Ghul"

"Alright... so perhaps this wasn't as bad as I--" it was then I saw another document. It was one I recognized, for it was my marriage document. I remembered Talia had covered the wording with her hand as she signed it. She didn't want us to read its contents.

I picked up the paper and began scanning over the words. Then, my heart sunk.

"By signing this document, the foreign bride/groom relinquishes all holding power to his/her old home/life. This includes monarch, subjects, and family, and must follow the same rules as the other rulers present. This includes, never leaving the palace walls unless it is needed, or until they are ordered to by a higher ruler, and should always be accompanied by soldiers when doing so to both ensure safety, and to ensure the mission is completed without the ruler going astray."

"So in other words... I'm trapped here... and the reason I'm not hearing from father is because... because I'm not allowed to be in contact with him, now that I'm an... an al Ghul." It was taking every bone in my body to not burst into tears right then and there. "No, if I am to cry... it can't be here. Talia could walk in any minute now." I quickly put the documents back in their places and hurry off to my room.

~

Damian was already waiting for me when I arrived. I kept my hood up so he couldn't see the sadness on my face.

"It's almost 3 in the morning! Where the hell were you?" He demanded, his arms crossed.

I was silent for a moment before responding. "I am never going to see my father again... this marriage has stripped him from my life, as well as my home... my father, he... he may not have been the best of fathers, but I loved him... he understood me--the real me. The me I never allowed my mother to see."

Damian raised a brow. "I fail to understand why any of this news should make a difference to me."

I looked up at him, stunned and wide-eyed before glaring, sneering, "I swear you have about as much compassion as a rock."

It was only when I heard Damian ask why I was crying had I noticed the warm fluid on my cheeks.

"I-it's none of your business." I said rather quickly, stepping away from him.

He grabbed my arm and forced me to look at him. "It's my business if you're crying because of me." This only caused the tears to spill more. His eyes softened, filling with what seemed to be worry. "No, no, I'm sorry--it's alright, come here." He said gently, pulling me into a hug.

I was stunned at first but soon gave in to the hug. "Why?" I asked. "Why are you being so... nice to me so sudden? I just don't understand."

"Does your father mean a lot to you?" He asked, ignoring my question.

I was quiet again before responding, "Yes... as I told you, he was the first to ever understand me for who I am: a demon. My mother, Arella... bless her. She tried her best to control that side of me... but it ended in her demise. I killed her and all of Azarath in the name of my father, so I could be with someone who got me. I love my father more than I could love anyone else."

"I understand," Damian sighed, "that's how I feel towards my mother. She can be... hard on me, and we may argue over her decisions from time to time, but she's still my mother, and I love her dearly. As for my father... I don't know him. I don't even know his name. I just know that he's 'a great warrior' according to both my grandfather and mother..." Damian let got of me, letting his hands rest on my shoulders as he smiled, "Rachel, I've been thinking. Since you're my wife now... it should only be fair we know each other better. I know I haven't been the kindest to you these past few months, but like your father to you... you really seem to understand me. But..." his smile dropped, "all I really know about you is your heritage and, well, your sarcastic nature. So... begin sharing? It could rid your mind of negative thoughts for a moment."

"Oh, okay," I said, a bit thrown off, "well, if I'm honest, I may come off as very shy and quiet, but I do have a fun and, dare I say, goofy side. I can be clumsy, and laugh at the most random of things... and I kinda like that feeling. It makes me feel... young. But, what about you? All I really know about you is that you're a bit of a brat with anger management problems." I laughed.

He scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Well, actually, I'm not as stone-cold as you seem to think, Rachel," he playfully glared, "I have emotions too, you know."

We both shared a laugh then. It was the first time in a while I had genuinely laughed, and the first time I had heard Damian laugh at all. We spent the remainder of the night getting to know each other. Of course, we had already known of our common interests, but now, it seemed we were closer than we ever had been before.

As the sun began to rise, our bodies laid side by side on opposite ends. Our feet away from each other, and our heads close. It was quiet and peaceful.

"You know... we are so different... yet so similar in such confusing ways." I said, breaking the silence.

He only hummed in agreement before closing his eyes. "Rachel?"

"Yes?"

"Do you mind if I make a promise to you?"

"And what promise would that be?"

"To reunite you with your father as soon as possible."

I turned to look at him, surprised. "And break the rules? Why would you do that?"

His eyes opened slowly as he gave me a tired, but genuine smile. "Because, I haven't told you yet, because I didn't know the feeling before now but... I think I might be falling in love with you."

A small wave of heat rushed to my face as I smiled at him. "You know... I think I'm falling in love with you too, surprisingly."

He didn't respond.

"Damian?" Then, I noticed his breathing got heavy, his mouth slightly ajar. "Oh..." I whispered. "Goodnight then... love."

[redwoodrroad]

where did you get the idea that it’s part of norn culture to demoralize women

Here’s the thing: This is the sort of thing you pick up around NPCs in the game, and it’s something that I’ve decided is worth an essay. Norn men tend to fall into a category of hypermasculinity--they’re loud, they’re stubborn, they’re aggressive, and all Norn have massive complexes related to power and prestige, especially as applicable to the Hunt, etc. These traits may sometimes extend to Norn women, but they are emphasized in Norn men. I have actually included a read more at the end so I could offer some anecdotal examples, leaning on Braham, Eir, and Jora to discuss their actions throughout the game. For the moment, there are a couple of things I’d like to point out here: 1) these stores do not exist in a vacuum, they come from real life inspiration and experiences; 2) the Sons of Svanir didn’t invent the idea of hating women, it’s an idea that’s intersected with a yearn for power; and 3) Jormag also is not advocating for the demoralization of women, they also just want power.

First off, here’s something pretty key about this that my friend @jorasdottir brought up: Guild Wars and Guild Wars 2 do not exist in a vacuum. The culture that came up with Norn culture is a hypermasculine and hugely westernized culture. We see hypermasculinity all around us, and it exists in this game. I get into more of this later.

Second, the very fact that the Sons of Svanir are so anti-women doesn’t come from nowhere--you don’t just start systemically hating women because one woman killed someone; the Sons of Svanir were bourne from someone who already hated women but who found the justification for it by pinning all their anger on Jora partly out of their respect for Svanir. Not only that, but no one starts a whole movement of hating women by being alone either--one guy yelling in the street about how he hates Jora doesn’t start a movement, it’s something that several people would have to calculate. It’s also not all Jormag’s funny little whispers because if that was the case, we’d primarily see mindless Norn attacking you for not agreeing with them--in reality, the Sons of Svanir essentially have a motel built into Hoelbrak’s caves, and they got jackasses handing out fliers. They believe that women are not to be trusted, that they are weak-minded, and that they are not worthy of Jormag’s blessings in the same way that the Sons of Svanir are worthy of them.

Lastly, and to wrap up, if Jormag was only utilizing promises of power, the Sons of Svanir would not be willingly chilling (no pun intended) 100 feet away from Knut Whitebear, and Knut Whitebear wouldn’t be letting them stay there if they were visibly hostile. Jormag isn’t telling the Sons of Svanir to hate women, and Svanir himself didn’t represent all Norn men before he was killed--Jormag promised power to the few Norn who were already prescribed with larger yearns for power, and those Norn didn’t just happen to be men. These were men who themselves felt demoralized enough to want power. They must be competitive, reckless, untrusting of others, unempathetic, and selfish. It is not a coincidence that these qualities can become more intense in men--and this is something that extends past the walls of this game. This is what I meant when I said “we see hypermasculinity all around us.” These are the qualities of hypermasculinity--and sure, you can see all of these qualities in women too, in the real world and in the game, but it is not without purpose that these qualities apply to the most extreme members of Norn culture, in Norn men. There are also many essays that examine the intersection between sexism and power, it comes from a history of demoralizing women--yes, in the real world, but as I’ve established, these games were created by people who also live in the real world--and it’s honestly worth reading up about.

All of this is to say that Norn men didn’t just come up with hating women simply because of anything like Jormag’s influence or hating Jora, it must come from the culture. Norn culture involves seeking power. Power requires demoralizing others. Hypermasculinity in a culture that emphasizes power, legacy, prestige, etc. breeds otherism. Otherism causes a rift between those who deem themselves the most worthy of receiving power--those who have heightened traits of hypermasculinity, predominantly men, to include those who are extremely competitive--and those who they deem most unworthy of receiving power. If you’re a man and you’re experiencing otherism mixed with competition and other qualities of hypermasculinity, the subject of that otherism is most commonly women. When there are a lot of you who feel this way, you make a group because you may also in turn be rejected from the larger society for having these views. This is what leads to the creation of groups like the Sons of Svanir. This is why it is part of Norn culture to demoralize women. It’s not by any means a priority, it’s not a central quality of Norn culture, but it is part of the culture.

Obviously this is a lot to swallow, I’m sure you didn’t expect six paragraphs of Sociological perspective here, but hey! this is what I went to school for. I’m very passionate about this topic, so I’m glad you were inspired to ask! This also wasn’t meant to be preachy or condescending in any way, so I’m sorry if any of this might come across that way. If you’d like ask me anything else about my perspective on this type of thing, please feel free! Of course, thank you so much for reading all of this, and I hope you found it useful. Feel free to read some anecdotal evidence under the read more below; otherwise, take care! Let me know what you think!

For even just one example, remember how Braham acted towards us when we admitted we weren’t going to uphold Destiny’s Edge, that we thought it was more respectful to start Dragon’s Watch in her honor instead. Braham reacted by claiming it was not only unhonorable to her legacy but then turned on us while accusing us of letting her die, going against all the good terms we left him on during the Heart of Thorns campaign. In the caves during Season 3, he became more reckless than ever, newly obsessed with upholding his idea of her legacy by unearthing this scroll, right, and risking Rox’s life in the process. He didn’t even hold any remorse for her when she was in that ice--even after she was freed and brought back to proper health--and look, I’m not saying Braham is a bad person for acting this way. He was going through a really terrible mourning process after losing someone he only recently realized he still loved. Even so, this attitude was not something necessarily present in Eir, even though she was raised in the same community.

Eir wasn’t necessarily a nurturing person herself, but she didn’t have as extreme a version of those qualities as Braham--and if the implication during the Personal Story was that all the members of Destiny’s Edge were close close friends, having spent years fighting and traveling together, you’d think she’d be just as stubborn and reckless about Snaff’s death as Braham was about her own, later down the line. Instead, Eir drew into herself and stopped fighting dragons all together. When fighting with Zojja all those times we were there to witness it, she didn’t get aggressive, she got depressed; she didn’t blame Zojja or anyone else in defensiveness, even though Rytlock would be the first and loudest to blame Logan at the time, she maintained that she felt horrible for what had happened. She was full of remorse. It’s likely she had never experienced a level of remorse like that, and neither had Braham for losing Eir.

Now, this isn’t a perfect 1-to-1 comparison, but it’s pretty clear that it’s at least somewhat a pattern based on the fact that other major characters fall into these categories too: Svanir turned into a bear and went mad due to Jormag’s influence, that’s not necessarily his fault, but Jora chose to find another way to heal him or break him out of the curse. Only when she realized there was no other way did she decide she had to kill him--you can honestly ask jorasdottir more about this because she’s very knowledgeable about the whole affair--but if the theory is that all Norn, regardless of gender, should be the type to run in, guns (or, axes) blazing, in order to kill everything on sight, that would extend to Jora as well, right?

My point is that we have witnessed Norn men take extreme approaches to situations, especially in moments of high emotion, and we have witnessed Norn women take careful or even passive approaches to situations, likewise in moments of high emotion. I believe these anecdotes further emphasize my point here that some men in Norn culture may sometimes be raised to act differently and more aggressively than some women in Norn culture, even those within the same family. Again, thank you for reading!

[dottie-wan-kenobi]

song lyrics I use to characterize Dick Grayson

This is definitely not everything (& I would love to do more) but it’s also Extremely Freaking Long so. Many thanks to @zitkaplushie for chatting w me abt this! I would love to hear your thoughts/additions/etc. If u disagree w any of these, feel free to debate w me but please be civil!!

— OVERALL:

Drag Me Down by One Direction: okay there are tons of parts that fit but this line is the best: “I've got fire for a heart / I'm not scared of the dark / You've never seen it look so easy”

I think this one is kind of straightforward lol but. The first line kind of tells me that Dick is passionate, and feels more with his heart than his head. The second line is just kind of a tongue in cheek thing like obviously he’s not. And the third one is both Dick’s confidence and also that it’s just TRUE. He makes things look easy, all kinds of things. It’s just a fact. 

High Hopes by Panic! at The Disco: ugh this has such good lines but this one: “Mama said / Burn your biographies / Rewrite your history / Light up your wildest dreams / Museum victories, every day / We wanted everything, wanted everything”

So I think “Mama” thru to “dreams” ties back to him becoming Nightwing, or going through different identities and kind of letting himself go with it to an extent. Like he doesn’t let it hold him back. The rest of it, like...that’s just Dick’s superheroing career. “We” in this case could be him and Bruce, him and the Titans, him and Damian, etc etc

Catch My Breath by Kelly Clarkson: um. the whole song. the whole thing. buuuut one line I’ll analyze will be: “I don't wanna be left behind / Distance was a friend of mine / Catching breath in a web of lies / I've spent most of my life / Riding waves, playing acrobat / Shadowboxing the other half / Learning how to react”

“I don't wanna be left behind” - he knows this feeling well already and doesn’t want to relive it

“Distance was a friend of mine / Catching breath in a web of lies” - he has like no civilian friends in canon, and even then he’s always lying to somebody about something. There aren’t many people he can be truly close to and open with, other than like Donna and Roy and Kory

“I've spent most of my life / Riding waves, playing acrobat / Shadowboxing the other half / Learning how to react” - idk, when I see this it makes me think that he’s just lived this life that isn’t exactly normal and he recognizes that

Birds by Imagine Dragons: this one makes me so sad but: “I know that / Ooh, birds fly in different directions / Ooh, I hope to see you again / Ooh, birds fly in different directions / Ooh, so fly high, so fly high”

So obviously Dick has lost a lot of people important to him over the years, either because they died or DC said XYZ and Dick’s relationship no longer has any rights, but. This is how he would feel about that. Grudging acceptance, hope to see them again, wishing them well. 

Dance Monkey by Tones And I: I had to. “I said, oh my god, I see you walking by / Take my hands, my dear, and look me in my eyes / Just like a monkey I've been dancing my whole life / But you just beg to see me dance just one more time”

I’ll mention this later on, but I think that Dick projects an image a lot of the time that isn’t what he’s really feeling. This ties into that - I think at certain points in his life, he just gets exhausted and wants to take a break, but he can’t. He feels like everyone is counting on him, either to do this or that, or keep up this appearance. Sometimes they really are, and sometimes it’s pressure he’s putting onto himself!

Icarus by Bastille: tbh this is a song that I think applies to most if not all of the batfam, but for Dick, this is part of it that I like: “You put up your defenses when you leave / You leave because you're certain / Of who you want to be”

I prefer the version of canon where Dick willingly decides to stop being Robin, but even in the way that he gets kicked out, this tells me that he’s steeling himself for whatever may come, and that he’s sure of his actions. 

Stars by Grace Potter: now THIS one is freaking sad. “All those times we looked up at the sky / Looking out so far, it felt like we could fly / And now I'm all alone in the dark of night / And the moon is shining, but I can't see the light.”

Again, he’s lost a lot of ppl!! I usually think of this song as him referring to his parents or Bruce after he “dies”, but it could apply to anyone really. And these lines in specific just make me think that he feels lonely without whoever it is, that he’s not in a good place.

Simple Man by Lynyrd Skynyrd: "Boy, don't you worry, you'll find yourself / Follow your heart and nothing else / And you can do this, oh baby, if you try / All that I want for you, my son, is to be satisfied"

Okay so maybe I hc that the Graysons were very much so free spirits who rubbed off a lot on Dick. But with that aside, to me this is Dick being determined to live a happy life, and knowing it’s going to be a struggle at times. “You’ll find yourself” and “if you try” are things that I think Dick keeps close to mind. Like, maybe he doesn’t know everything right now, but he will. He’ll figure it out. And he can get through anything if he just pushes through it.

Weight In Gold by Gallant: “I’m pulling my weight in gold / Call me anxious, call me broke / But I can’t lift this on my own”

I’ve already mentioned this but Dick has a lot of pressure on his shoulders, like all the time. And he’s also someone who reaches out to others, which is what these lyrics are saying. He’s aware when he can’t handle the pressure anymore and can admit it to himself. (I don’t think this fits him ALL the time, I mean it just doesn’t, but. Sometimes.)

Tears Of A Clown by Smokey Robinson: I really fuck with the idea that Dick is, still, an entertainer. that + the pressure he’s under = “Now if I appear to be carefree / It's only to camouflage my sadness / In order to shield my pride I've tried / To cover this hurt with a show of gladness”

The word “camouflage” stands out to me because I think sometimes the way he hides parts of who he is is to protect himself??? Dick can also be a prideful person, who might not want others to know that he’s been hurt by something they’ve done. 

The Show Must Go On by Queen: relatedly,,, this whole song fits him perfectly. but to do something not related to smiling: “Show must go on. / I'll face it with a grin. / I'm never giving in— / Oh—with the show. / I'll top the bill, / I'll overkill. / I have to find the will to carry on with the show.” 

This ties back to him hiding his real feelings, of course, but also it speaks to how he doesn’t do things by half. This makes me think about being Batman, about how he won’t give in to the pressure, will push through and keep going and uphold his dad’s legacy as best as he can

Pumpin Blood by NONONO: “It's so magical feeling, that no one's got a hold / You're a catalyst to your own happiness you know”

This goes back to my thoughts that Dick has this mindset that if he keeps going, keeps putting in as much effort as he needs to, then he can get what he needs. It’s also kind of those moments where Dick realizes that where he is is good, like being Robin, but it’s not great, and it could be great. When he decides to stop being Robin, it’s like he’s thinking, “I could be happier, and if I want that, I need to do it myself.”

Rocketeer by Far East Movement: this song fits in a lot of spots but. “Here we go, come with me / There's a world out there that we should see / Take my hand, close your eyes / With you right here, I'm a rocketeer”

Overall imo this is a shippy song but this lyric specifically could be Dick and anyone at all -- he’s the kind of guy who reaches out to others, who would enjoy showing people new things. I also think the last bit kind of speaks to how he can feel better and more empowered when he’s not going through things alone 

I Want To Break Free by Queen: “But life still goes on / I can't get used to, living without, living without / Living without you by my side / I don't want to live alone, hey / God knows, got to make it on my own / So baby can't you see / I've got to break free”

This goes back to a few things. For one, I feel that when he feels held back or held down, he’s VERY aware of it and doesn’t like it, and wants to have his freedom back. Another one is, considering all the people he’s lost, it’s like...he doesn’t want to live without them but there’s no choice, he has to. And finally, I also think this is to Bruce, like he’s feeling like he could do and be more if he weren’t being restricted by Bruce

Teams & Friends, Ships, Family, & Bruce under the cut!

— TEAMS & FRIENDS:

Young Volcanoes by Fall Out Boy: there’s a reason why I named my fic after this lol. “When Rome's in ruins / We are the lions / Free of the coliseums / In poisoned places / We are anti-venom / We're the beginning of the end”

I think that Dick really does enjoy superheroing, and that he’s proud of himself and those he works with for being courageous, kind, and helpful to the world. In his more positive moments, this is what I feel like he’d think of his teams and their impacts.

Home by Daughtry: I’ve always thought of this one as a batfam song but tbh I think it works better as a Titans one. “Well I'm going home, / Back to the place where I belong, / And where your love has always been enough for me. / I'm not running from. / No, I think you got me all wrong. / I don't regret this life I chose for me. / But these places and these faces are getting old, / So I'm going home.”

The way I interpret this is like...he DOES love Bruce, he does love the batfam, but ultimately when he thinks about home he thinks of his friends. This is kind of him talking to Bruce, at least in the second half. Another reason why I put it here is that there’s another lyric in the song that says, “I'm going to the place where love / And feeling good don't ever cost a thing.” In the batfam, as zitkaplushie said, love isn’t conditional or anything but it IS exhausting. It takes a toll on them. Love with the titans is just easier.

— SHIPS:

Make Me Feel by Janelle Monae: Dick is bi like this song and this line describes his at-times tumultuous relationships: “It's like I'm powerful with a little bit of tender / An emotional, sexual bender / Mess me up, yeah, but no one does it better / There's nothing better”

He takes comfort and strength from his relationships and sometimes that’s good, hence the powerful/tender part! But in all his relationships, not just his romantic ones, it’s (sometimes) easy for people to affect him

I’m Gonna Be (500 Miles) by Celtic Thunder: this fits all of his ships imo: “When I'm lonely, well I know I'm gonna be / I'm gonna be the man who's lonely without you / And when I'm dreaming, well I know I'm gonna dream / I'm gonna dream about the time when I'm with you”

He’s just a sappy boy who is in love. That said, I don’t think these feelings would overtake him!

— FAMILY:

Losing My Religion by R.E.M.: I read this heartbreaking fic recently that dealt with how Dick hid his feelings from EVERYONE and no one noticed anything was wrong, really, except Cass. so. “Every whisper / Of every waking hour / I'm choosing my confessions / Trying to keep an eye on you / Like a hurt, lost and blinded fool, fool / Oh no, I've said too much / I set it up”

Dick is more open than his siblings, but he does still hide things, especially from them. The line “I'm choosing my confessions / Trying to keep an eye on you” makes me think of Dick trying to take care of his siblings, whichever way he can

This Must Be The Place (Naive Melody) by Kishi Bashi: “Home is where I want to be / Pick me up and turn me round / I feel numb - born with a weak heart / I guess I must be having fun / The less we say about it the better / Make it up as we go along / Feet on the ground / Head in the sky / It's OK, I know nothing's wrong... nothing”

“Make it up as we go along / Feet on the ground / Head in the sky / It's OK, I know nothing's wrong... nothing” - this reads happier than it’s sang but I do think it describes the more positive side of the family dynamics! 

You’re Not There by Lukas Graham: this one is abt (all of) his parents :( “I only got you in my stories / And you know I tell them right / I remember you and I, when I'm awake at night / So give it up for fallen glory / I never got to say goodbye / I wish I could ask for just a bit more time”

There are times where the deaths of his parents & Bruce (and Alfred) weigh heavily on him, and that everything he does is kind of continuing on where they left off, or doing something they didn’t have time to do. I think he would tell his kids stories about them and that he would try to be as true to them as he can be. And then of course, “So give it up for fallen glory / I never got to say goodbye / I wish I could ask for just a bit more time” is kind of his relationship with his parents after they die

— BRUCE:

(I gave him a separate section bc I have a lot of feels abt them okay??)

The Ballad of Dick Grayson by Crafty McVillain: there are actually a lot of songs abt Dick Grayson, but I picked this one bc of this: “Broken hearts improve, but my mind's broken too / Show me how to hurt and I'll hurt them with you / I'll take on the world, I will fight for you / But tell me how to stop, cause now I'm fighting you”

This is abt when Jason takes on Robin but I like to look at this like:

“Broken hearts improve, but my mind's broken too / Show me how to hurt and I'll hurt them with you” - this is when Dick first comes to the Manor, and when he’s first becoming Robin. He’s struggling and Bruce shows him a way to cope. (is it healthy? lmao)

“I'll take on the world, I will fight for you” - this is just...any time really lol. Dick is loyal to Bruce (to an extent) and will fight alongside him, will do almost anything for him

“But tell me how to stop, cause now I'm fighting you” - then this is how it feels when they’re broken apart for the first time, when they aren’t getting along and it’s just a change from the past few years, and Dick doesn’t know what to do about it

Let You Down by NF: “Feels like we're on the edge right now / I wish that I could say I'm proud / I'm sorry that I let you down / Let you down”

“I'm sorry that I let you down / Let you down” - this could be pre-emptive, Dick kind of thinking that no matter what he does, he’s most likely going to let Bruce down

Like how Bruce is always that 8 year old who lost his parents, Dick is always who he was the first night he went out as Robin, desperately wanting Bruce’s approval

He wants the approval and hates that he does, it feels like it holds him down

The Chain by Fleetwood Mac: “Listen to the wind blow / Watch the sun rise / Run in the shadows / Damn your love / Damn your lies”

When I read these lyrics, I think about Bruce and Dick when they’ve been arguing, having a quiet moment (the peace after the storm, zitkaplushie said), kind of reflecting, and Dick just thinks, “I want you to love me but I want you to stop lying to me.” Or like, “your love comes with your lies and I don’t know if I can handle that [right now].”

Numb by Linkin Park: “I've become so numb, I can't feel you there / Become so tired, so much more aware / I'm becoming this, all I want to do / Is be more like me and be less like you”

There’s this moment in canon, before he even gives up being Robin, where he’s acting just like Batman, hunting down criminals with a single-minded ferocity that has his friends legit concerned for him. I can’t remember exactly what he felt about it when he kind of snapped out it but these lyrics remind me of that. He doesn’t want to be like Bruce, he doesn’t want to be Batman, and especially as a teenager, that last line is big. Overall it also fits when Dick IS Batman, and he feels like he’s kind of being swallowed by everything that it is

The Archer by Taylor Swift: okay I’m sorry I can’t pick between these two: “I've got a hundred thrown out speeches / I almost said to you” and “And all of my heroes / Die all alone / Help me hold on to you”

There are a lot of things Dick doesn’t say to Bruce over the years, or things that he wants to say but doesn’t for however long until he can’t hold it in anymore or it’s the right time or whatever. Ultimately that line just tells me that their relationship isn’t one with great communicating

“And all of my heroes / Die all alone” - Bruce ‘dying’. “Help me hold on to you” - Batman when Dick is him. Or it could be about Dick’s parents, and then Dick trying to keep Bruce alive as Robin/Nightwing

[quietya]

YA Books You May Have Missed: April-June Edition

I did this for January-March releases (which you can see here) and I’m doing it again! I’m rounding up some YA releases that have come out between April and June. These are all books that are on my personal radar, so it’s not a fully filled out list of ALL the books, but it’s a lot of them. And as usual, I’m avoiding bestsellers and really buzzy books as much as possible.

We Rule the Night by Claire Eliza Bartlett Release: April 2

Seventeen-year-old Revna is a factory worker, manufacturing war machines for the Union of the North. When she’s caught using illegal magic, she fears being branded a traitor and imprisoned. Meanwhile, on the front lines, Linné defied her father, a Union general, and disguised herself as a boy to join the army. They’re both offered a reprieve from punishment if they use their magic in a special women’s military flight unit and undertake terrifying, deadly missions under cover of darkness. Revna and Linné can hardly stand to be in the same cockpit, but if they can’t fly together, and if they can’t find a way to fly well, the enemy’s superior firepower will destroy them–if they don’t destroy each other first.

You’d Be Mine by Erin Hahn Release: April 2

Annie Mathers is America’s sweetheart and heir to a country music legacy full of all the things her Gran warned her about. Superstar Clay Coolidge is most definitely going to end up one of those things. But unfortunately for Clay, if he can’t convince Annie to join his summer tour, his music label is going to drop him. That’s what happens when your bad boy image turns into bad boy reality. Annie has been avoiding the spotlight after her parents’ tragic death, except on her skyrocketing YouTube channel. Clay’s label wants to land Annie, and Clay has to make it happen. Swayed by Clay’s undeniable charm and good looks, Annie and her band agree to join the tour. From the start fans want them to be more than just tour mates, and Annie and Clay can’t help but wonder if the fans are right. But if there’s one part of fame Annie wants nothing to do with, it’s a high-profile relationship.

Descendant of the Crane by Joan He Release: April 2

Princess Hesina of Yan has always been eager to shirk the responsibilities of the crown, but when her beloved father is murdered, she’s thrust into power, suddenly the queen of an unstable kingdom. Determined to find her father’s killer, Hesina does something desperate: she engages the aid of a soothsayer—a treasonous act, punishable by death... because in Yan, magic was outlawed centuries ago. Using the information illicitly provided by the sooth, and uncertain if she can trust even her family, Hesina turns to Akira—a brilliant investigator who’s also a convicted criminal with secrets of his own. With the future of her kingdom at stake, can Hesina find justice for her father? Or will the cost be too high?

The Devouring Gray by Christine Lynn Herman Release: April 2

Uprooted from the city, Violet Saunders doesn’t have much hope of fitting in at her new school in Four Paths, a town almost buried in the woodlands of rural New York. The fact that she’s descended from one of the town’s founders doesn’t help much, either—her new neighbors treat her with distant respect, and something very like fear. When she meets Justin, May, Isaac, and Harper, all children of founder families, and sees the otherworldly destruction they can wreak, she starts to wonder if the townsfolk are right to be afraid. When bodies start to appear in the woods, the locals become downright hostile. Can the teenagers solve the mystery of Four Paths, and their own part in it, before another calamity strikes?

The Princess and the Fangirl by Ashley Poston Release: April 2

Imogen Lovelace is an ordinary fangirl on an impossible mission: save her favorite character, Princess Amara, from being killed off from her favorite franchise, Starfield. The problem is, Jessica Stone—the actress who plays Princess Amara—wants nothing more than to leave the intense scrutiny of the fandom behind. If this year's ExcelsiCon isn't her last, she'll consider her career derailed. When a case of mistaken identity throws look-a-likes Imogen and Jess together, they quickly become enemies. But when the script for the Starfield sequel leaks, and all signs point to Jess, she and Imogen must trade places to find the person responsible. That's easier said than done when the girls step into each other's shoes and discover new romantic possibilities, as well as the other side of intense fandom.

White Rose by Kip Wilson Release: April 2

Disillusioned by the propaganda of Nazi Germany, Sophie Scholl, her brother, and his fellow soldiers formed the White Rose, a group that wrote and distributed anonymous letters criticizing the Nazi regime and calling for action from their fellow German citizens. The following year, Sophie and her brother were arrested for treason and interrogated for information about their collaborators.

In the Neighborhood of True by Susan Kaplan Carlton Release: April 9

After her father’s death, Ruth Robb and her family transplant themselves in the summer of 1958 from New York City to Atlanta—the land of debutantes, sweet tea, and the Ku Klux Klan. In her new hometown, Ruth quickly figures out she can be Jewish or she can be popular, but she can’t be both. Eager to fit in with the blond girls in the “pastel posse,” Ruth decides to hide her religion. Before she knows it, she is falling for the handsome and charming Davis and sipping Cokes with him and his friends at the all-white, all-Christian Club. But at temple Ruth meets Max, who is serious and intense about the fight for social justice, and now she is caught between two worlds, two religions, and two boys. But when a violent hate crime brings the different parts of Ruth’s life into sharp conflict, she will have to choose between all she’s come to love about her new life and standing up for what she believes.

In the Key of Nira Ghani by Natasha Deen Release: April 9

Nira Ghani has always dreamed of becoming a musician. Her Guyanese parents, however, have big plans for her to become a scientist or doctor. Nira's grandmother and her best friend, Emily, are the only people who seem to truly understand her desire to establish an identity outside of the one imposed on Nira by her parents. When auditions for jazz band are announced, Nira realizes it's now or never to convince her parents that she deserves a chance to pursue her passion. As if fighting with her parents weren't bad enough, Nira finds herself navigating a new friendship dynamic when her crush, Noah, and notorious mean-girl, McKenzie "Mac," take a sudden interest in her and Emily, inserting themselves into the fold. So, too, does Nira's much cooler (and very competitive) cousin Farah. As Farah and Noah grow closer and Emily begins to pull away, Nira's trusted trumpet "George" remains her constant, offering her an escape from family and school drama. But it isn't until Nira takes a step back that she realizes she's not the only one struggling to find her place in the world.

Last Girl Lied To by Laurie Elizabeth Flynn Release: April 16

Fiona claims she doesn’t remember anything about the night her best friend left a party early and walked into the ocean. But the truth is, she wishes she could forget. Trixie’s disappearance is ruled a suicide, but Fiona starts to believe that Trixie isn’t really dead. Piecing together the trail of a girl who doesn't want to be found leads her to Jasper, Trixie’s former friend with benefits, and Beau—the boy who turned Fiona down, who loved someone else, who might be happy Trixie is gone. The closer Fiona gets to finding out what happened, and the closer she gets to Jasper and Beau, the more she realizes that the girl she knew better than anyone may have been a carefully constructed lie—and she might have been waiting to disappear the entire time.

The Tiger at Midnight by Swati Teerdhala Release: April 23

Esha is a legend, but no one knows. It’s only in the shadows that she moonlights as the Viper, the rebels’ highly skilled assassin. She’s devoted her life to avenging what she lost in the royal coup, and now she’s been tasked with her most important mission to date: taking down the ruthless General Hotha. Kunal has been a soldier since childhood, training morning and night to uphold the power of King Vardaan. His uncle, the general, has ensured that Kunal never strays from the path—even as a part of Kunal longs to join the outside world, which has been growing only more volatile. Then Esha’s and Kunal’s paths cross—and an unimaginable chain of events unfolds. Both the Viper and the soldier think they’re calling the shots, but they’re not the only players moving the pieces. As the bonds that hold their land in order break down and the sins of the past meet the promise of a new future, both rebel and soldier must make unforgivable choices.

Love From A to Z by S.K. Ali Release: April 30

Zayneb, the only Muslim in class, isn’t bad. She’s angry. When she gets suspended for confronting her teacher, and he begins investigating her activist friends, Zayneb heads to her aunt’s house in Doha, Qatar, for an early start to spring break. Fueled by the guilt of getting her friends in trouble, she resolves to try out a newer, “nicer” version of herself in a place where no one knows her. Then her path crosses with Adam’s. Since he got diagnosed with multiple sclerosis in November, Adam’s stopped going to classes, intent, instead, on perfecting the making of things. Intent on keeping the memory of his mom alive for his little sister. Adam’s also intent on keeping his diagnosis a secret from his grieving father. Alone, Adam and Zayneb are playing roles for others, keeping their real thoughts locked away in their journals. Until a marvel and an oddity occurs…

Belly Up by Eva Darrows Release: April 30

I’d planned to spend senior year with my bestie-slash-wifey, Devi Abrams, graduating at the top of my class and getting into an Ivy League college. Instead, Mom and I are moving in with my battle-ax of a grandmother and I’m about to start a new school and a whole new life. Know what’s more fun than being the new girl for your senior year? Being the pregnant new girl. It isn’t awesome. There is one upside, though—a boy named Leaf Leon. He’s cute, an amazing cook and he’s flirting me up, hard-core. Too bad I’m knocked up with a stranger’s baby. I should probably mention that to him at some point.

The Lovely and the Lost by Jennifer Lynn Barnes Release: May 7

Kira Bennett’s earliest memories are of living alone and wild in the woods. She remembers the moment that Cady Bennett and one of her search-and-rescue dogs found her perfectly. Adopted into the Bennett family, Kira still struggles with human interaction years later, but she excels at the family business: search-and-rescue. Along with Cady’s son, Jude, and their neighbor, Free, Kira works to train the world’s most elite search-and-rescue dogs. Someday, all three teenagers hope to put their skills to use, finding the lost and bringing them home. But when Cady’s estranged father, the enigmatic Bales Bennett, tracks his daughter down and asks for her help in locating a missing child—one of several visitors who has disappeared in the Sierra Glades National Park in the past twelve months—the teens find themselves on the frontlines sooner than they could have ever expected. As the search through 750,000 acres of unbridled wilderness intensifies, Kira becomes obsessed with finding the missing child. She knows all too well what it’s like to be lost in the wilderness, fighting for survival, alone. But this case isn’t simple. There is more afoot than a single, missing girl, and Kira’s memories threaten to overwhelm her at every turn. As the danger mounts and long-held family secrets come to light, Kira is forced to question everything she thought she knew about her adopted family, her true nature, and her past.

Dark Shores by Danielle L. Jensen Release: May 7

Teriana is the second mate of the Quincense and heir to the Maarin Triumvirate. Her people are born of the seas and the keepers of its secrets, but when her closest friend is forced into an unwanted betrothal, Teriana breaks her people’s mandate so her friend might escape—a choice with devastating consequences. Marcus is the commander of the Thirty-Seventh, the notorious legion that has led the Celendor Empire to conquer the entire East. The legion is his family, but even they don’t know the truth he’s been hiding since childhood. It’s a secret he’ll do anything to protect, no matter how much it costs him – and the world. When an Empire senator discovers the existence of the Dark Shores, he captures Teriana’s crew and threatens to reveal Marcus’s secret unless they sail in pursuit of conquest, forcing the two into an unlikely—and unwilling—alliance. They unite for the sake of their families, but both must decide how far they are willing to go, and how much they are willing to sacrifice.

Nocturna by Maya Motayne Release: May 7

To Finn Voy, magic is two things: a knife to hold under the chin of anyone who crosses her…and a disguise she shrugs on as easily as others pull on cloaks. As a talented faceshifter, it’s been years since Finn has seen her own face, and that’s exactly how she likes it. But when Finn gets caught by a powerful mobster, she’s forced into an impossible mission: steal a legendary treasure from Castallan’s royal palace or be stripped of her magic forever. After the murder of his older brother, Prince Alfehr is first in line for the Castallan throne. But Alfie can’t help but feel that he will never live up to his brother’s legacy. Riddled with grief, Alfie is obsessed with finding a way to bring his brother back, even if it means dabbling in forbidden magic. But when Finn and Alfie’s fates collide, they accidentally unlock a terrible, ancient power—which, if not contained, will devour the world. And with Castallan’s fate in their hands, Alfie and Finn must race to vanquish what they have unleashed, even if it means facing the deepest darkness in their pasts.

The Candle and the Flame by Nafiza Azad Release: May 14

Fatima lives in the city of Noor, a thriving stop along the Silk Road. There the music of myriad languages fills the air, and people of all faiths weave their lives together. However, the city bears scars of its recent past, when the chaotic tribe of Shayateen djinn slaughtered its entire population -- except for Fatima and two other humans. Now ruled by a new maharajah, Noor is protected from the Shayateen by the Ifrit, djinn of order and reason, and by their commander, Zulfikar. But when one of the most potent of the Ifrit dies, Fatima is changed in ways she cannot fathom, ways that scare even those who love her. Oud in hand, Fatima is drawn into the intrigues of the maharajah and his sister, the affairs of Zulfikar and the djinn, and the dangers of a magical battlefield.

The Lost Coast by Amy Rose Capetta Release: May 14

Danny didn't know what she was looking for when she and her mother spread out a map of the United States and Danny put her finger down on Tempest, California. What she finds are the Grays: a group of friends who throw around terms like queer and witch like they're ordinary and everyday, though they feel like an earthquake to Danny. But Danny didn't just find the Grays. They cast a spell that calls her halfway across the country, because she has something they need: she can bring back Imogen, the most powerful of the Grays, missing since the summer night she wandered into the woods alone. But before Danny can find Imogen, she finds a dead boy with a redwood branch through his heart. Something is very wrong amid the trees and fog of the Lost Coast, and whatever it is, it can kill.

The Things She’s Seen by Ambelin Kwaymullina and Ezekiel Kwaymullina Release: May 14

Nothing's been the same for Beth Teller since the day she died. Her dad is drowning in grief. He's also the only one who has been able to see and hear her since the accident. But now she's got a mystery to solve, a mystery that will hopefully remind her detective father that he is still alive, that there is a life after Beth that is still worth living. Who is Isobel Catching, and why is she able to see Beth, too? What is her connection to the crime Beth's father has been sent to investigate--a gruesome fire at a home for troubled youth that left an unidentifiable body behind? What happened to the people who haven't been seen since the fire? As Beth and her father unravel the mystery, they find a shocking and heartbreaking story lurking beneath the surface of a small town, and a friendship that lasts beyond one life and into another...

Don’t Date Rosa Santos by Nina Moreno Release: May 14

Rosa Santos is cursed by the sea-at least, that's what they say. Dating her is bad news, especially if you're a boy with a boat. But Rosa feels more caught than cursed. Caught between cultures and choices. Between her abuela, a beloved healer and pillar of their community, and her mother, an artist who crashes in and out of her life like a hurricane. Between Port Coral, the quirky South Florida town they call home, and Cuba, the island her abuela refuses to talk about. As her college decision looms, Rosa collides - literally - with Alex Aquino, the mysterious boy with tattoos of the ocean whose family owns the marina. With her heart, her family, and her future on the line, can Rosa break a curse and find her place beyond the horizon?

Birthday by Meredith Russo Release: May 21

Two kids, Morgan and Eric, are bonded for life after being born on the same day at the same time. We meet them once a year on their shared birthday as they grow and change: as Eric figures out who he is and how he fits into the world, and as Morgan makes the difficult choice to live as her true self. Over the years, they will drift apart, come together, fight, make up, and break up—and ultimately, realize how inextricably they are a part of each other. 

I Love You So Mochi by Sarah Kuhn Release: May 28

Kimi Nakamura loves a good fashion statement. She's obsessed with transforming everyday ephemera into Kimi Originals: bold outfits that make her and her friends feel like the Ultimate versions of themselves. But her mother disapproves, and when they get into an explosive fight, Kimi's entire future seems on the verge of falling apart. So when a surprise letter comes in the mail from Kimi's estranged grandparents, inviting her to Kyoto for spring break, she seizes the opportunity to get away from the disaster of her life. When she arrives in Japan, she's met with a culture both familiar and completely foreign to her. She loses herself in the city's outdoor markets, art installations, and cherry blossom festival -- and meets Akira, a cute aspiring med student who moonlights as a costumed mochi mascot. And what begins as a trip to escape her problems quickly becomes a way for Kimi to learn more about the mother she left behind, and to figure out where her own heart lies.

The Wise and the Wicked by Rebecca Podos Release: May 28

Ruby Chernyavsky has been told the stories since she was a child: The women in her family, once possessed of great magical abilities to remake lives and stave off death itself, were forced to flee their Russian home for America in order to escape the fearful men who sought to destroy them. Today, these stories seem no more real to Ruby than folktales, except for the smallest bit of power left in their blood: when each of them comes of age, she will have a vision of who she will be when she dies—a destiny as inescapable as it is inevitable. Ruby is no exception, and neither is her mother, although she ran from her fate years ago, abandoning Ruby and her sisters. It’s a fool’s errand, because they all know the truth: there is no escaping one’s Time. Until Ruby’s great-aunt Polina passes away, and, for the first time, a Chernyavsky’s death does not match her vision. Suddenly, things Ruby never thought she’d be allowed to hope for—life, love, time—seem possible. But as she and her cousin Cece begin to dig into the family’s history to find out whether they, too, can change their fates, they learn that nothing comes without a cost. Especially not hope.

The Kingdom by Jess Rothenberg Release: May 28

Glimmering like a jewel behind its gateway, The Kingdom is an immersive fantasy theme park where guests soar on virtual dragons, castles loom like giants, and bioengineered species--formerly extinct--roam free. Ana is one of seven Fantasists, beautiful "princesses" engineered to make dreams come true. When she meets park employee Owen, Ana begins to experience emotions beyond her programming including, for the first time... love. But the fairytale becomes a nightmare when Ana is accused of murdering Owen, igniting the trial of the century. Through courtroom testimony, interviews, and Ana's memories of Owen, emerges a tale of love, lies, and cruelty--and what it truly means to be human.

These Witches Don’t Burn by Isabel Sterling Release: May 28

Hannah's a witch, but not the kind you're thinking of. She's the real deal, an Elemental with the power to control fire, earth, water, and air. But even though she lives in Salem, Massachusetts, her magic is a secret she has to keep to herself. If she's ever caught using it in front of a Reg, she could lose it. For good. So, Hannah spends most of her time avoiding her ex-girlfriend (and fellow Elemental Witch) Veronica, hanging out with her best friend, and working at the Fly by Night Cauldron selling candles and crystals to tourists, goths, and local Wiccans. But dealing with her ex is the least of Hannah's concerns when a terrifying blood ritual interrupts the end-of-school-year bonfire. Evidence of dark magic begins to appear all over Salem, and Hannah's sure it's the work of a deadly Blood Witch. The issue is, her coven is less than convinced, forcing Hannah to team up with the last person she wants to see: Veronica. While the pair attempt to smoke out the Blood Witch at a house party, Hannah meets Morgan, a cute new ballerina in town. But trying to date amid a supernatural crisis is easier said than done, and Hannah will have to test the limits of her power if she's going to save her coven and get the girl, especially when the attacks on Salem's witches become deadlier by the day.

The Beholder by Anna Bright Release: June 4

Selah has waited her whole life for a happily ever after. As the only daughter of the leader of Potomac, she knows her duty is to find the perfect match, a partner who will help secure the future of her people. Now that day has finally come. But after an excruciatingly public rejection from her closest childhood friend, Selah’s stepmother suggests an unthinkable solution: Selah must set sail across the Atlantic, where a series of potential suitors awaits—and if she doesn’t come home engaged, she shouldn’t come home at all.

Five Midnights by Ann Davila Cardinal Release: June 4

If Lupe Dávila and Javier Utierre can survive each other’s company, together they can solve a series of grisly murders sweeping though Puerto Rico. But the clues lead them out of the real world and into the realm of myths and legends. And if they want to catch the killer, they'll have to step into the shadows to see what's lurking there—murderer, or monster?

If It Makes You Happy by Claire Kann Release: June 4

High school finally behind her, Winnie is all set to attend college in the fall. But first she's spending her summer days working at her granny’s diner and begins spending her midnights with Dallas—the boy she loves to hate and hates that she likes. Winnie lives in Misty Haven, a small town where secrets are impossible to keep—like when Winnie allegedly snaps on Dr. Skinner, which results in everyone feeling compelled to give her weight loss advice for her own good. Because they care that’s she’s “too fat.” Winnie dreams of someday inheriting the diner—but it'll go away if they can't make money, and fast. Winnie has a solution—win a televised cooking competition and make bank. But Granny doesn't want her to enter—so Winnie has to find a way around her formidable grandmother. Can she come out on top?

Like a Love Story by Abdi Nazemian Release: June 4

It's 1989 in New York City, and for three teens, the world is changing. Reza is an Iranian boy who has just moved to the city with his mother to live with his stepfather and stepbrother. He's terrified that someone will guess the truth he can barely acknowledge about himself. Reza knows he's gay, but all he knows of gay life are the media's images of men dying of AIDS. Judy is an aspiring fashion designer who worships her uncle Stephen, a gay man with AIDS who devotes his time to activism as a member of ACT UP. Judy has never imagined finding romance...until she falls for Reza and they start dating. Art is Judy's best friend, their school's only out and proud teen. He'll never be who his conservative parents want him to be, so he rebels by documenting the AIDS crisis through his photographs. As Reza and Art grow closer, Reza struggles to find a way out of his deception that won't break Judy's heart--and destroy the most meaningful friendship he's ever known.

When the Ground is Hard by Malla Nunn Release: June 4

Adele Joubert loves being one of the popular girls at Keziah Christian Academy. She knows the upcoming semester at school is going to be great with her best friend Delia at her side. Then Delia dumps her for a new girl with more money, and Adele is forced to share a room with Lottie, the school pariah, who doesn't pray and defies teachers' orders. But as they share a copy of Jane Eyre, Lottie's gruff exterior and honesty grow on Adele, and Lottie learns to be a little sweeter. Together, they take on bullies and protect each other from the vindictive and prejudiced teachers. Then a boy goes missing on campus and Adele and Lottie must rely on each other to solve the mystery and maybe learn the true meaning of friendship.

Stronger Than a Bronze Dragon by Mary Fan Release: June 11

When a powerful viceroy arrives with a fleet of mechanical dragons and stops an attack on Anlei’s village, the villagers see him as a godsend. They agree to give him their sacred, enchanted River Pearl in exchange for permanent protection—if he’ll marry one of the village girls to solidify the alliance. Anlei is appalled when the viceroy selects her as a bride, but with the fate of her people at stake, she sees no choice but to consent. Anlei’s noble plans are sent into a tailspin, however, when a young thief steals the River Pearl for himself. Knowing the viceroy won’t protect her village without the jewel, she takes matters into her own hands. But once she catches the thief, she discovers he needs the pearl just as much as she does. The two embark on an epic quest across the land and into the Courts of Hell, taking Anlei on a journey that reveals more is at stake than she could have ever imagined.

The Grief Keeper by Alexandra Villasante Release: June 11

Seventeen-year-old Marisol has always dreamed of being American, learning what Americans and the US are like from television and Mrs. Rosen, an elderly expat who had employed Marisol's mother as a maid. She never pictured fleeing her home in El Salvador under threat of death and stealing across the US border as "an illegal", but after her brother is murdered and her younger sister, Gabi's, life is also placed in equal jeopardy, she has no choice, especially because she knows everything is her fault. If she had never fallen for the charms of a beautiful girl named Liliana, Pablo might still be alive, her mother wouldn't be in hiding and she and Gabi wouldn't have been caught crossing the border. But they have been caught and their asylum request will most certainly be denied. With truly no options remaining, Marisol jumps at an unusual opportunity to stay in the United States. She's asked to become a grief keeper, taking the grief of another into her own body to save a life. It's a risky, experimental study, but if it means Marisol can keep her sister safe, she will risk anything. She just never imagined one of the risks would be falling in love, a love that may even be powerful enough to finally help her face her own crushing grief.

All of Us with Wings by Michelle Ruiz Kiel Release: June 18

Seventeen-year-old Xochi is alone in San Francisco, running from her painful past: the mother who abandoned her, the man who betrayed her. Then one day, she meets Pallas, a precocious twelve-year-old who lives with her rockstar family in one of the city’s storybook Victorians. Xochi accepts a position as Pallas’s live-in governess and quickly finds her place in their household, which is relaxed and happy despite the band's larger-than-life fame. But on the night of the Vernal Equinox, as a concert afterparty rages in the house below, Xochi and Pallas accidentally summon a pair of ancient creatures devoted to avenging the wrongs of Xochi’s adolescence. She would do anything to preserve her new life, but with the creatures determined to exact vengeance on those who’ve hurt her, no one is safe—not the family she’s chosen, nor the one she left behind.

Patron Saint of Nobody by Randy Ribay Release: June 18

Jay Reguero plans to spend the last semester of his senior year playing video games before heading to the University of Michigan in the fall. But when he discovers that his Filipino cousin Jun was murdered as part of President Duterte's war on drugs, and no one in the family wants to talk about what happened, Jay travels to the Philippines to find out the real story. Hoping to uncover more about Jun and the events that led to his death, Jay is forced to reckon with the many sides of his cousin before he can face the whole horrible truth -- and the part he played in it.

Tell Me How You Really Feel by Aminah Mae Safi Release: June 18

Sana Khan is a cheerleader and a straight A student. She's the classic (somewhat obnoxious) overachiever determined to win. Rachel Recht is a wannabe director who's obsesssed with movies and ready to make her own masterpiece. As she's casting her senior film project, she knows she's found the perfect lead - Sana. There's only one problem. Rachel hates Sana. Rachel was the first girl Sana ever asked out, but Rachel thought it was a cruel prank and has detested Sana ever since.

Wicked Fox by Kat Cho Release: June 25

Eighteen-year-old Gu Miyoung has a secret--she's a gumiho, a nine-tailed fox who must devour the energy of men in order to survive. Because so few believe in the old tales anymore, and with so many evil men no one will miss, the modern city of Seoul is the perfect place to hide and hunt. But after feeding one full moon, Miyoung crosses paths with Jihoon, a human boy, being attacked by a goblin deep in the forest. Against her better judgment, she violates the rules of survival to rescue the boy, losing her fox bead--her gumiho soul--in the process. Jihoon knows Miyoung is more than just a beautiful girl--he saw her nine tails the night she saved his life. His grandmother used to tell him stories of the gumiho, of their power and the danger they pose to humans. He's drawn to her anyway. With murderous forces lurking in the background, Miyoung and Jihoon develop a tenuous friendship that blossoms into something more. But when a young shaman tries to reunite Miyoung with her bead, the consequences are disastrous . . . forcing Miyoung to choose between her immortal life and Jihoon's.

Technically, You Started It by Lana Wood Johnson Release: June 25

When a guy named Martin Nathaniel Munroe II texts you, it should be obvious who you're talking to. Except there's two of them (it's a long story), and Haley thinks she's talking to the one she doesn't hate. A question about a class project rapidly evolves into an all-consuming conversation. Haley finds that Martin is actually willing to listen to her weird facts and unusual obsessions, and Martin feels like Haley is the first person to really see who he is. Haley and Martin might be too awkward to hang out in real life, but over text, they're becoming addicted to each other. There's just one problem: Haley doesn't know who Martin is. And Martin doesn't know that Haley doesn't know. But they better figure it out fast before their meet-cute becomes an epic meet-disaster . . .

The Virtue of Sin by Shannon Schuren Release: June 25

Miriam lives in New Jerusalem, a haven in the desert far away from the sins and depravity of the outside world. Within the gates of New Jerusalem, and under the eye of its founder and leader, Daniel, Miriam knows she is safe. Cared for. Even if she’s forced, as a girl, to quiet her tongue when she has thoughts she wants to share, Miriam knows that New Jerusalem is a far better life than any alternative. So when God calls for a Matrimony, she’s thrilled; she knows that Caleb, the boy she loves, will choose her to be his wife and they can finally start their life together.  But when the ceremony goes wrong and Miriam winds up with someone else, she can no longer keep quiet. For the first time, Miriam begins to question not only the rules that Daniel has set in place, but also what it is she believes in, and where she truly belongs.

[korkrunchcereal]

A Good Man

“My lord, it is as the scouts have feared. A portion of the Blackblood army has broken off to march south against the Gilded Lands.” Ignea Khro had been third in command to the Gilded army that had marched with Aurelian, but due to the death of his superior he had been promoted to second. It was a mixed blessing, for it meant he reported directly to Aurelian who had since the war had grown melancholy. Mixed with his excessive drinking, it proved often a volatile combination.

“I see.” Aurelian grabbed his glass clumsily, taking several audible gulps of wine. Was it his fifth or sixth glass? He didn’t know nor did he care. Crimson oozed down the corner of his lip from his greedy gulps though he did not bother to wipe it away right away. His tongue flickered out, licking up the wine he had spilled in his haste to drink.

“We are also still unable to actually make contact with the Gilded Lands. The presence of the Blackbloods has made teleportation to the province…unsafe with the influx of raw, void magic between here and there.”

“You’re telling me,” Aurelian began with a faint slur upon his words, “That no one has been able to make contact with my betrothed?”

“No sire. No one amidst the evacuation fleet saw her or Sir Wrenth. Your brother and sister however- “

“I did not ask about them.” Aurelian interrupted with a hiss. “So what you are telling me is that they’re both probably still in the Gilded Lands?!” There was a pause for a moment, before he received the answer he knew.

“Yes, my lord.”

“Son of a bitch.” Aurelian tapped his fingers along his now empty glass, brow furrowing.

“Of course, the scouts may have just missed them.”

“Unlikely.” Aurelian stood up quickly, though grabbed his chair to steady himself. “The need for a disguise would be preposterous and frankly the morale in the Gilded Lands must be low…low. Yes, low. No, in their stupid stubborn arrogance they probably stayed behind to ensure everyone evacuated, holed up in the castle with a handful of guards and stayed to show strength to a fearful people.”

“Why do you believe that, my lord?”

“Because it’s what I would do.” He said. Would he, though? Even he wasn’t sure. Then again, he was not sure of much right now except that his glass was empty, and he had drank at least seven…no eight? Eight glasses in a matter of an hour. A sudden queasiness came over him, his expression turning grim.

“My lord, are you alright?”

“Yes I’m fine just…” He gripped the chair harder, knuckles white. He still held his glass as he turned to look at…who was this again? Ignore? No, that’s what he wanted to do. “That will be all captain. Update me if anything else needs updating.”

“O-of course my lord.” Ignea gave a low bow, glancing backwards briefly as he left the tent. Alone, Aurelian let out a sigh of relief.

“Shit that was close. I almost felt drunk there.” Letting out a giggle, Aurelian sloshed his glass around despite it being empty. “Well I better write some letters. Cyvar should know better than to leave my dear beloved in the castle when hell itself is about to devour it. Or perhaps I’ll be lucky and Bal-Varos can actually hold the Ceana with the pass. Wait, that’s not right. Ah, I know what will fix this terrible business. More wine!” Aurelian took a step forward.

His legs went out from under him, however. Wide eyed, Aurelian reached for the chair as he fell. All he accomplished was the chair being pulled on top of him as he fell face down. Hard. There was a crashing sound as glass shattered, followed by a howl of pain. He blacked out for a moment, eyes closing before fluttering open in a daze. As he rolled onto his back he pushed the chair away, clutching his hand now filled with glass shards. Blood oozed down his fingers, painting his manicured fingers crimson.

“Well that’s not good!” He arched his neck back, spotting several bottles of wine upside down. With his injured hand he reached out, fingers tracing along the nearest bottle. Empty. Shit. Letting out a sigh of discontent he slowly tried to rise, failed at first then succeeded on the third try. He grabbed the table edge even as blood seeped from his wounds, staining the oak red. Someone else will fix that, he believed.

His eyes wandered over the room, narrowing. Had it always been this…cramped? Shrugging it off, he turned to call for assistance. He paused as his eyes made contact with his large mirror he had hanging and, more importantly, himself. He stumbled over to the mirror, watching as he grew larger and larger in the glass. Light he was handsome. His form chiseled as if from the hands of a master artist, bearing no semblance of imperfection.

Drip.

Drip.

He looked at his hand in annoyance, his entire palm now red. He brought his hand up, eyes closing as he dragged his hand across his face. Blood streaks were left upon his features in uneven lines along with thin slices from the glass still imbedded in his fingers, painting his face with hues of red. He brought his fingers down to his lips, tasting the blood mixed with spilled wine from the glass. It tasted sweet upon his lips.

“Disappointing.” A voice eerily familiar echoed in Aurelian’s ears, forcing his eyes opened. He gasped in shock, seeing a figure just on the edge of the mirror behind him. He turned quickly, blinking as he saw nothing. Yet when he turned back into the mirror there the figure was; gaunt of features, silver of hair and stern of disposition.

“Father?” Aurelian mouthed out the words with a meek voice.

“Disappointing.” Arcannon Indaris repeated, a frown falling upon his features. “To see what my legacy has become.”

“But…you’re dead! I buried your body. I mourned for you and grieved for you!”

“And you promised to uphold our family name. Look at you now? A drunken waste of a man!” Arcannon’s voice was harsh, shouting with unkept rage. “Cowering behind drink after drink.”

“But I am a brave man father!”

“Brave!? You sold your people out for scraps!” Arcannon pointed an accusatory finger at Aurelian, eyes alight with righteous fire. “How many thousands are going to die because of your foolishness and pride! How many times did I teach you respect! You respect nothing but the bottom of a bottle.”

“It’s not like that father. I had no choice!” Aurelian was pleading now, hands pressed together as if begging. “I had no choice!”

“There is always a choice, child. You chose your own power and look where it has led? Look at the stones upon this path you have created, boy!” Arcannon extended a hand into the mirror itself as great fire consumed the glass. Castle Indaris was a smoldering wreck, its ancient walls cast to rubble and lush gardens ash. There were bodies there, faces Aurelian recognized and loved. Calithiel’s mouth was open in shock, hands clutching her chest. Cyvar lay nearby with the guards, a stoic grimace even in death. The scene grew, encompassing more and more of the Crescent Hills and the greater Gilded Lands. There was death and ashes everywhere Aurelian looked. He closed his eyes, looking away.

“I don’t want to watch, father!” Aurelian’s voice was trembling as flood of emotions overcame him, causing his voice to crack.

“Watch the consequences of your mistakes. Your home, your people and those you hold dear will vanish beneath the black moon that approaches! Open your eyes Aurelian!” The command forced Aurelian’s eyes wide, and he began to weep at the destruction. There was no goodness here nor light. There was only the uncaring abyss marred by charring embers and hideous twilight.

“Please, make it stop.”

“They will all die because you are too scared to do what is right. You have always been a selfish, greedy child yet when action is required you hide. How can you expect men to die for you when you cannot even die for yourself?”

“I said stop!” Aurelian roared, tears in his eyes as he punched the window. Cracks formed, growing larger against the glass. He was met by the mocking laughter of Arcannon as the window shattered, falling to the ground with a clatter. Panting, Aurelian looked down at the glass and shrieked. The body of his father laid upon the ground, eyes opened wide in judgement. The stench of decay and wine filled Aurelian’s nostrils, forcing him to wretch.

“You can never be a good man.”

 Aurelian opened his eyes, gasping for air. He was staring at the floor, nose buried in his own vomit. Groaning Aurelian rolled onto his back, pushing the chair away that had fallen on him. His eyes darted to the entrance of his tent. Sunlight glowed beneath the fabric, causing him to squint. Light, he must have slept for hours. Already the dream he had was fading, though the impression of it left him feeling chilled. Dully, he noted an ache in his hand. He lifted it, wincing at the glass shards imbedded in the flesh.

“Son of a bitch th-“The sentence faded away, spotting something strange. His mirror was hanging on the wall, tilted slightly as if off center. Stranger still however was the glass itself, for running along the length of it was a single crack. A chill ran up Aurelian’s spine as he gulped, brief fragments of his dream remembered.

“I’m not a good man, am I?” He asked aloud. All that answered him was silence.

[hazusreaderinserts]

Legacy [Naruto Reader-Insert]

You’re definitely a Yamanaka, aren’t you?

Family and Village secrets run rampant. All you wanna do is survive long enough to see Naruto become Hokage and to find out who you really are.

[Fem! Reader x Various]

Warnings: Long plot. Slow-burn. The slowest of the burn.

Crossposted on Wattpad and Quotev. Masterlist

Chapter 8 Family Secrets

You, uh, end up not meeting with the boys after classes and instead attended a summons by Father which he sent slightly before class ended. Delivered via Yamanaka Express (which meant various other Shinobi under Yamanaka employment).

You shift your weight a little on the uncomfortable cushion that they provided you. It's a little bit lumpy in all the wrong places and it itched. The material is rough and scratchy. Yamanaka Inoichi called you for an audience in the Main house and the first thought that came into your mind when you got the summons scroll is that they are suspicious of you. Brother no longer possesses the sword and is currently in a coma so their attentions now turned to you, the next in line.

You scan your surroundings, another thing Shisui taught you. Always have an escape plan ready. Or two. Or four. Doesn't matter how many, but you must always have a plan to get out of any situation that you're in. Four Chunin at all corners of the room, armed and ready to subdue you if anything gets out of hand. Yamanaka Inoichi, current head of the clan and the head of T&I sits before you, his expression deep in thought. Beside him is another man that you don't recognize. A younger, more youthful, more pleasant looking man. His eyes look cold, despite the smile on his face. As per usual, of the Yamanaka branch members. All of the Yamanaka shinobi are trained not to show expression on their faces. Ino is an exception. Father loves to spoil her.

You only manage to find one possible point of escape, although it is very slim. You'd probably have to take down one of the Chunin guarding the corner closest to the window as quick as possible and break free. Only if the rest didn't react fast enough, or if Inoichi and the other man didn't snare you with the Shintenshin first. You place your hands neatly into your lap and adopt a passive expression. You aren't going to show weakness in front of them. The collar of your altered Kimono presses against your neck and the belt around your waist sits a little tight on your waist. You don't adjust them of course, signs of any discomfort are also considered signs of weakness.

You see the way that Inoichi's hair falls over his eyes and the way his eyes cloud in thought, you know that he's trying to formulate words to say to you. After all, he hasn't greeted you at all for the past five years. Even though he said he would... "Father." You say to break the silence, acknowledging both him and the man beside with a formal bow, with your forehead touching the tatami, whilst seated. Acting first is a sign of subservient behavior. You'll work to get on his good side. Both the men's expressions didn't change but you faintly saw a look of approval flit over Father's face before it returns to his normal impassive one. "So, you have the sword now." Inoichi props his chin up with an arm on his knee. He's sitting with his legs crossed. Not in seiza, which you are in. He's assuming the dominant position. The man beside him stands straight, shoulders wide and feet apart. His muscles are tense. They're expecting something to happen. "Yes, she chose me. I'm not bound to her yet. " You keep your head lowered. The candle flames beside him flicker. "Hmm," Inoichi lets out a grunt of approval. He's still thinking. "It seems like it's time for you be initiated. Keirai, give her the tea. You, drink." The latter is meant for you. The commanding tone he uses as he said it is proof of that. Keirai-the other man, serves you a cup of tea. You actually don't know what it is, but you saw some stuff in the cup that looked like leaf bits.  You look up at Inoichi again as if to ask him, your expression is still blank. "Drink." He commands. And you do. You put the cup to your lips and swallow. The tea has a strong, earthy smell. Reminds you of the scent of a pine cone that Brother brought home for you once. All the trees around Konoha are a special kind of tree made from Hashirama's Wood Release so they didn't really have a strong scent? Not that you were smelling trees or anything, it's something that you notice when you're outside training. The taste however stings your mouth. It's nasty sort of bitter that stays at the back of your throat. This would be the taste of earth and herbs mushed together, you think. It doesn't show on your face. "Mind, body and soul. My mind, body and soul belong to the Yamanaka Clan." You recite, you remember the words to the pledge and you memorized it religiously. But it feels like the voice coming out of your mouth was not your own. What did they make you drink? You feel lightheaded. A flicker of discomfort broke through your otherwise emotionless mask. You could hear the metal of your blade whistling in the air and there is a dull thudding in your head. "You'll have our full support. Keirai will be mentoring you in clan techniques. He will be reporting back to me on your progress." Inoichi gestures to the man beside him with a fatherly smile, "Make me proud, daughter." Keirai merely nods at your direction when his name is mentioned. Bullshit. You call bullshit.  "Thank you Father. I will uphold the pride of the Yamanaka." You bend from the waist to give him a deep bow. You grit your teeth and squash the feelings that are rising from your chest to your throat. The concoction makes you feel a little woozy, like you couldn't say otherwise. "Don't forget to send my regards to Hakunetsu. It's a shame that he's in the hospital. He's a very skilled shinobi." The head of the Yamanaka clan lifts himself up from the cushion in one swift motion and walks out of the door. You didn't miss the weight of his palm on your shoulder as he passes you. The other four Chunin follow him out of the shoji door and the last one slides it close as he exits. Your fingernails are painfully digging into your palm at this point and your forehead still touched the surface of the tatami. Did he just attempt to blackmail you into submission by bringing up Brother?

Shit, shit, SHIT. He had outmaneuvered you. It isn't like you stood a chance anyway, your family is still under his protection and provision. But at least you were aware.

Was this what brother had to go through too?

It took you a couple of minutes to prevent the tears from overflowing. Your chest hurts at the thought.

Father also basically told you to your face that he is openly spying on you and Keirai will report your every move back to him if you do something out of the ordinary.  "Report to me at 1800 hours next Monday. We'll start your training then." Keirai says, then you hear him exit the room. You are left alone in that dark room, your body still bent in that bow. The sharp zzzzing of the sword still ringing in your ears.

                                                            ____

Your muscles feels extra sore. You sit there in the room, seething until your emotions subsides. It is already dusk by the time you leave. You squeeze the area between your neck and shoulder in a feeble attempt to massage the soreness away. The sword hangs by your sore waist, her weight a little heavy for you. Ino ambushes you with a big, teary hug from behind. "Oh my god, we haven't talked in ages! I saw Sasuke coming over for dinner the other night. Did he talk to you? What did he say? Did he say anything about me? I'm so sorry for bombarding you with questions but I need to know!" Ino babbles on and on, tears still shining in her eyes.

She gives you a quick once-over to examine your body for anything out of the ordinary but the only thing that concerns her is the creases in between your brows. "H-hey, what's wrong...?" Your entire body shook. She calls him papa. Papa. That's the difference. They both shared the same hair and eye colours. You don't. Yours didn't even resemble Mother's or Brother's. They're all lying to you. All the adults are lying to you and you don't know why. "We can ask papa if there's anything wrong with you, he'd hel-"  "You can. I can't." You just say, plainly. Your voice is shaking and the muscles in your throat are not cooperating. The fine string that is your patience for the shit the clan has given you, snaps. "B-but we-" "He spoils you rotten and he does almost anything you say! He gives you everything! OF COURSE, you'd immediately go to him." The volume of your voice is raised but strained. It's louder than you usually speak. Your fists clench again by your side. You are sure that your palms have little bleeding indents in the middle. Ino lets out a soft gasp and her expression is a one of wide-eyed shock. Her arms around your body drop to her sides and she takes a step back, "Wh-what do you-" "I had nobody! Nobody to teach me how to meld my chakra. Nobody to teach me basic jutsu. I had to learn everything by myself. Mother is busy in the hospital and Brother always had to do missions! Always! I had nobody and once I had somebody, they leave! ALL of them do!" You scream. Your eyes are hot and there is a wetness coming down from your cheeks. Your fingers immediately go towards the hilt of your sword and clenches tightly. You aren't going to draw your sword, not on Ino. You just needed something to squeeze or else your emotions will go out of control.

Well further than now. "Shisui is dead and Brother is in a coma! And all you ever had to care about is Sasuke! SASUKE! A BOY! While I had to struggle all alone, by myself. MYSELF! Father gave you everything! You didn't have to worry about anything in your life! He never cared about me!" Your throat is hoarse and your vision is blurry to the point where you couldn't even see the expression on the other girl's face. You hear a choked sob come from Ino's direction. "I c-care about y-you..." Ino's voice is thick with tears and snot. "When is the last time you ever really asked me before talking about yourself or asking about Sasuke?" You sneer at her over your shoulder, pushing past her roughly and you leave the Clan compound behind.

You run and run and you don't stop until you reach the hospital. Your heart hurts a little at the thought of shouting at Ino like that, but you just couldn't take it anymore. The hurt. The expectations. The Loneliness. Shisui's death. You can't cope. You just couldn't anymore. Not when you feel so, so alone. You pull up by Brother's side in a rickety, plastic chair, curling up with a spare blanket that you grabbed from one of the cabinets in the room. Hound is there, reading his book in silence but he doesn't question the fat globs of tears running down your face. You don't miss the gentle touch on your cheek as you cry yourself to sleep.

[musical-chick-13]

you opened up the things I shut (cersei x melisandre)

Hello, @multifandomfix. It’s me! Your asoiaf rarepairs Secret Santa. (I’m sorry this is so much closer to the ending deadline/is a day after I said I’d get it to you; I might have gone a bit overboard in writing this because this thing is like 7000 words long, lmao.) Thank you so much for participating, I really enjoyed writing this! :D (I will also put this on ao3 for easier access, but I wanted to make absolutely sure I got this to you first.)

Lady Melisandre still mourns the loss of what she thought she had found at Dragonstone. Someone so committed to his goals, so willing to listen to her, that he would do anything. A man so concerned with justice and following what he believed to be the preordained will of the universe that he was willing to listen to her. Understand her.

Love her.

Feel something toward her that wasn’t disdain or abject fear. To give her a name other than that of “fanatic” or “lunatic.”

And as much as she loves the Lord, as much as she wants-needs-to do right by Him, she won’t delude herself into thinking that any of those other things were unpleasant or inconsequential.

Would he believe in her now? she wonders, If he were still here? She has lost her faith. Broken her own heart. She’s not sure she even believes in herself anymore, which is more terrifying than anything she has ever experienced. She has been the one earthly constant in her life, the only person she could trust, and the only thing aside from God she could every truly rely on.

But she will see this through to the end. It is her duty. She understands this. If she has no cause, she has no purpose. But even still, the thing she sees before she goes to sleep is the way Davos had looked at her after he found out what had happened to the little girl. And Jon. Everyone else at Dragonstone save Stannis.

“Terrible,” they called her. Mad. Poisonous. The manifestation of ruin itself. Poorly-hidden criticisms of every choice she had ever made followed her through every corner of Westeros, even now, especially now.

So when whispers turn to discussion of this Lannister lady, who they call “mad” and “loathsome” and “malevolent,” unable to make sensible choices if the world itself hung in the balance, it all sounds almost disturbingly familiar.

She can see the rage that underlies everything the Dragon Queen does. Perhaps she will shirk her family’s legacy. Perhaps she will not. All of that is in the hands of a far more powerful being than her. But Melisandre knows that she must be prepared should Daenerys succumb to the Targaryen curse.

Nothing the Lord wants is transparent anymore. And in light of the extreme strictures of conventional morality everyone else so desperately wants to hold her to, Cersei Lannister might be the most understanding ally she’ll be able to find.

The current queen of Westeros (well, half of Westeros, if she were to take to heart a somewhat-distant warning from her twin brother—which she was not) takes in her visitor. Hair as red as fire, a dress to match, a spidery necklace that Cersei suspects is much more than just a necklace.

She has heard of her, this fire priestess. Some foreign name that begins with an “M.” Previously aligned with Stannis. Cersei had never considered her worth any further investigation; she can only imagine what this woman wants with her now.

“Why are you here.” It’s somehow not a question. More a demand for transparency. She can’t afford to trust anyone anymore, and for all she knows this woman is here to try to assassinate her.

“The Lord works in mysterious ways.”

Wonderful…One of those.

After everything that had transpired regarding the Sparrows, Cersei hopes she never has to hear any mention of religion ever again.

“Lady…” she frowns.

“Melisandre,” the visitor supplies with an enigmatic smile.

“ ‘Lady’ Melisandre. I do not have time for riddles. Tell me why you are here or I will have my guard escort you out.”

Melisandre spares an uninterested, cursory glance at the menacing specimen in the corner, face hidden, armor dulled from a mixture of dust and blood. Others have cowered in fear in the presence of “Ser Robert Strong,” but this Melisandre person seems bored. Unbothered.

Intriguing.

Still, she elects to give Cersei an answer anyway. “I cannot know what the Lord wants. I assume it’s to bring the Dragon Queen and Jon Snow together, but I need to start forging down multiple separate paths in case I am wrong.”

Incredibly, (very credibly), this still doesn’t answer the question of why she is here.

Cersei’s skepticism must show on her face, because Melisandre continues, “Perhaps they are not the true heirs of Westeros. Perhaps the Undead will have to be defeated by another. I am here to make sure you are prepared in case these tasks fall to you.”

“And why would you assume the Lord’s” she practically spits out the word, “Plan would fall to me. Haven’t you heard what they say about me?” Cersei allows a restrained, yet feral grin to grace her countenance, “They think me mad.”

Melisandre echoes Cersei’s smile, “I think you are committed to your beliefs. And will do anything to uphold them. Even if they don’t align with mine, I can respect that. Sometimes, we must do what needs to be done. Not everyone is up to that task.”

For the first time in years, if not decades, Cersei feels a small knot of something-something that isn’t panic or rage-tightening in her chest. If she were less cynical she might call it security or validation.

“Very well.” Cersei isn’t willing to give her more latitude than that. Not yet.

“I will return.” And as suddenly as a leaf blowing away in the wind, Lady Melisandre is gone.

These three words stay on Cersei’s mind she retires to bed a few hours later. When she slips into sleep, the last thought she remembers having is There could be worse things.

Melisandre had a very incomplete idea of what to expect when she actually met the queen regnant in person. And upon arriving in King’s Landing and meeting Cersei’s eyes, she knows that will probably always be the case. Wrath colors her green eyes in a way that makes it clear exactly why people are so terrified of this woman. She does not tolerate nonsense. Will not accept half-hearted explanations. Under no circumstances will she bow to any will but her own.

She imagines that people must look at Cersei the way they used to look at her. Perhaps with even more vitriol. But underneath her rage, Melisandre can just make out fear, born of extreme pain and frustration. Something she finds within herself every time she’s unfortunate enough to be alone with her thoughts.

But in spite of all this, Cersei is committed. Committed to ruling and keeping herself alive in a way Melisandre has never seen anyone commit to anything. Not even Stannis.

Not even herself.

Lady Melisandre will, in all likeliness, have to seek out the Lannister queen again. She is almost looking forward to it.

In the meantime, she decides to investigate Cersei further. What exactly has she done? Why, precisely, do they call her “mad?”

She gets her answers very quickly. Everyone is quick to jump at the chance to criticize this woman. Melisandre, for once, might have found a woman more publicly hated than herself.

And this awakens a touch of uncharacteristic sympathy. Because nothing this woman has done sounds like anything Melisandre wouldn’t also be willing to do, given the right circumstances.

Melisandre thinks of Cersei, and all she sees is a woman dedicated to a cause and willing to do absolutely whatever it takes to accomplish it. Melisandre sees a woman broken by a prejudiced, violent world that explicitly refused to appreciate her. She could never truly hate a woman like that. To do so would be to hate herself.

So the first time Daenerys burns alive a valuable ally—a seemingly reformed, previously Tywin-Lannister-obsessed “bird” of the bald eunuch’s previous circle, with intel that could easily help her claim the throne and procure resources to protect the world from the Undead—Melisandre, as promised, returns to Cersei. Perhaps this action of the Dragon Queen’s was a simple misstep. A brief, uncommon lapse in judgment. But the time of reckoning is quickly approaching, and Melisandre cannot afford to place that much trust in her.

“The Dragon Queen has burned an informant.”

Cersei’s eyes narrow, assuming this is revelation of information is a test. Or perhaps she doesn’t believe her at all.

“Why?”

“He loved your father.”

The queen regnant closes her eyes for the briefest second, allowing herself some sort of internal sadness Melisandre knows she’ll never be able to dissect or understand.

“Why are you telling me this.”

“She isn’t prepared to do whatever it will take to get what she needs. I think you are.”

Cersei looks…almost surprised at this, with her eyebrows slightly raised, jaw clenched to reign in any sort of responsive noise that might wish to escape from her throat. But after a few moments studying Melisandre’s face, she concludes that her not-entirely-welcome visitor isn’t saying this to make a joke or bait her into a response, and her visage retreats to a neutral expression. Something passes between them. A flicker of what feels like understanding.

And Melisandre shivers, ever-so-slightly.

One of the handmaidens has been looking at her strangely. Coming entirely too fast when Cersei calls for her. Greeting her a bit too loudly. There are ugly, shadowy pockets of discolored skin under her eyes that can only be from lack of sleep. She even caught her trying to make off with an old piece of correspondence between her father and the not-so-fashionably-late Olenna Tyrell. An act she repaid by having one of her guards cut off several of the girl’s fingers.

Many would call her paranoid. She would call herself reasonably distrustful.

When she finds out the girl has run off in the middle of the night, her suspicions are all but confirmed.

Cersei does not want to seek the red woman out, but she sees no other option.

Meeting anyone was a thoroughly detestable experience. People with their small talk and shallow observations and empty, deceptive promises; men staring at her the way her girlish self had once wished Robert would; women considering her a traitor for daring to do what men had gotten away with doing for centuries. But Melisandre seems to be the first person Cersei has had the displeasure of meeting who didn’t immediately decry her as “mad” or perverse.

She knew better than to assume anyone was trustworthy. But if she was going to locate this treacherous girl, she needed someone who would not dismiss her on sight.

It doesn’t take her long to find Melisandre, as Qyburn’s spy network is vast and eager to please.

Melisandre doesn’t seem terribly surprised to see her. This annoys Cersei quite a lot.

“What do you need from me?”

“Why assume I need anything.”

“You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t.”

And, like before, it’s not a statement of judgment. Just a fact. A genuine observation. It’s a nice change from the way people usually talk to her, if Cersei were in the mood for candor.

“One of my handmaidens has run off. Presumably to help your little friend in the North. I need you to find her.”

“Why not find her yourself?”

“If you think that I would leave King’s Landing and risk someone using my absence to usurp me, you’re much more boring than I assumed. Even being here now is dangerous.”

The woman in red looks…not amused, but some nearby emotion. Cersei doesn’t care enough to puzzle through what that means. She doesn’t know this woman, nor does she have any worthwhile reason to.

“And why would I do this for you?” Melisandre replies, after entirely too long of a pause to be considered polite.

“I wouldn’t doubt Senna knows plenty of information. She wouldn’t have left if she didn’t think she could be useful.”

“I understand why you want me to find her. What I want to know is why I would want to.”

If Cersei still had any hair to tear out, she would. She plasters a sickeningly patronizing smile on her face instead. She hates this world and everything in it. But she particularly hates how clever everyone always thinks they are.

“You said yourself you don’t know if the Targaryen girl is fit to lead. Do you really wish for her to have information that could easily win her a war when you don’t even know if you want her to win?”

Melisandre tilts her chin up marginally. She has almost immediately shifted from close-to-amused to impressed.

“You said you wanted me available in case the girl and the bastard fail. I can’t be of any use to you or your ‘Lord’s’ cause if the North destroys us in a single battle due to extra intelligence. Surely you know that.”

Cersei makes a point to slip the smile off her face. She allows herself to settle into the feeling of power she loves to revel in, the one that almost fills the void in her heart that has existed ever since she was born. Cersei is serious and will not accept a refusal, and it is necessary that this woman in front of her knows that. “Doing this means I and any resources I have will remain to provide you with assistance should it come to that.”

And, for some reason Cersei doubts even the gods themselves know, Melisandre smiles. “Very well. I will find her.”

Two days later, Senna the handmaiden is found dead in one of the castle’s stables. Seemingly trampled by a horse.

Cersei doesn’t know how Melisandre managed to get the girl back inside the city. Cersei doesn’t care.

It’s not until after this that she realizes she never once threatened violence or death if her not-quite-an-ally didn’t comply with her wishes.

She staunchly refuses to think about what that means.

Ch. 2

 Melisandre does not like the feeling of doubting herself. It’s been there ever since Stannis’s death, and though the joining of Jon and the Dragon Queen had alleviated it to an extent, it is now back, stronger than ever.

Which is why she finds herself in King’s Landing again, seeking out a certain wrathful, green-eyed ruler.

“The Targaryen girl has destroyed several key food and weapons stores in the North in order to win a battle against a few underarmed loyalists.” There is no preamble this time. Like the woman in front of her, Melisandre has no time for meaningless greetings or stalling through cleverness.

Cersei’s eyes do not change, and Melisandre, for all of her gifts, all of her intelligence, all of her everything, cannot even begin to fathom what she is thinking. “I see.”

Her back is now turned, and she leisurely pours out a goblet of wine. Some part of Melisandre knows that she is simply executing a power play, as she herself has done so many times before, occasionally even toward the woman in question. That doesn’t make it any less aggravating. “If she had any concept of strategy, she wouldn’t have needed to sacrifice so much ‘collateral damage,’ as she calls it,” Melisandre continues.

Even though she’s facing front again, the queen doesn’t even so much as half-glance toward her. Melisandre appreciates her feigned stoicism. And her loathing of the queen’s desire to stroke her own ego is tempered by a rather vulgar admiration at just how good at this she truly is.

After another agonizing minute (Melisandre knows her expression is getting progressively more desperate, but she craves certainty and resolution too much to fix that), Cersei looks up. She asks, simply, “And?”

“The people will be left that much closer to starving and defenseless during the coming Winter. She has proven she does not care about fighting the Undead. Only about increasing her own power.”

“What do you expect me to do about it. Supply resources to my enemies?”

“I expect you to beat her.”

“Yes, that is my intention.”

Melisandre rolls her eyes. (If she doesn’t, she might laugh. But she doesn’t think Cersei is trying to be funny. Or maybe she is. That was quite a thought: Cersei Lannister, agent of comedy.)

Somehow, Cersei lets this gesture pass without comment before narrowing her eyes in suspicion. The expression makes her look tired. She probably is, given how many different groups of people are trying to kill her at present.

“Why have you come to me? You’re afraid this girl is a tyrant. People say the same about me.”

“Even knowing what I know, I doubt you would be that careless.”

“You know I burnt an entire religious cult by gathering them in a church where I was supposed to stand trial.”

Melisandre can’t help but turn one of the corners of her mouth up at that. “They were not real believers.”

Cersei’s eyes move fractionally toward their usual position. Melisandre would say she looks almost…enchanted, if she thought the queen were capable of such an expression.

“I have executed many others.”

“Who have personally wronged you or your children. You have been willing to ally with others when needed. You would not kill potential informants on sight.”

“Has she done that again?”

“Many times, now. One came with a large supply of Dragonglass, the only thing we know can kill a White Walker. She incinerated all of it.”

The queen regnant blinks a few times. She looks almost pained with the thought that her greatest foe is nothing more than a naive child, play-acting at an overindulged fantasy. It’s all Melisandre needs to know that she has made the right choice in coming here.

“I have destroyed entire houses protecting my family.”

“And I burned a child alive.”

Cersei pauses. Takes a long, genuine look at Melisandre, eyes sweeping thoughtfully from the ground under her feet to the top of her red hair. And there is another moment of understanding. No hatred or fear or even disgust. Merely… acknowledgement, as Cersei would do the same if pushed far enough.

Melisandre’s gaze doesn’t quite falter under the queen’s eye. But it almost does.

“Why should I trust you,” Cersei responds at last.

“I’m probably the only person who won’t demand a marriage agreement from you.”

Cersei almost laughs at that. Or, at the very least, Melisandre can tell she wants to; the corners of her mouth relax, and her fiery-green eyes brighten just enough to be noticeable. And Melisandre finds herself smiling fully at the unexpectedly warm response.

When the queen speaks again, quite a bit of her characteristic venom is gone. “Very well. Return in three days. We’ll discuss this further. I have a council meeting to attend to.”

For the first time since Stannis, Melisandre allows herself the luxury of hope.

These meetings have become almost distressingly frequent. It seems as if every slight change in the political landscape, no matter how meaningless, is used as an excuse for her and the Red Woman to meet for discussion.

And as adept as Cersei has always been at keeping herself in denial to cope with the worst of the world, she knows it’s not only Melisandre’s doing.

Fortunately, the latest atrocity actually does necessitate a meeting. It seems the Stark girl has released a prisoner against the Targaryen “queen’s” wishes (indeed, she was just like her mother, it seemed). Things were mostly under control at present, but a small riot had broken out.

“The people are getting tense. This is not good.”

“Not good for whom? The more tense they are under her alleged ‘reign,’ the better for me.”

“Not if the Undead claim you first. Every moment she spends embroiled in political affairs is an extra advantage they gain over us. Not even you can survive them, though I’m sure you’d put up an excellent fight.”

And much to her own surprise, Cersei smiles. It’s not a very pronounced one. But a brief examination of herself reveals that the ends of her lips are unmistakably pulled up.

That hasn’t happened in quite a long time…

“Do you possess the tools to defeat her?” Her visitor presses.

“Yes. But I cannot guarantee there will be enough resources left to kill all of the White Walkers when I’m done. Nor can I guarantee the safety of the resources you already have.”

Melisandre nods.

“I had an idea about that, though.”

“Oh?”

It’s not lost on Cersei that this is the first time she is willingly sharing information with the woman across from her. But considering that her family had used wildfire as a weapon twice in the public eye, now, she presumes that letting someone know there was still more to use wouldn’t be giving away too much.

And it isn’t as if she’d tell her where it is. Age may have dulled her optimism, but not her discretion.

Mostly.

“I assume you’ve heard of wildfire?”

Melisandre’s face shines with recognition, then with something that Cersei thinks looks far too much like pride.

“I hadn’t thought of that. Do you think it would work?”

“Well, you would know better than I would.”

“It would likely kill the wights. But the actual leaders? The original Undead? Probably not. Only Dragonglass or Valyrian Steel can do that.”

“Or dragon fire.”

“Or dragon fire. But I assume you have an answer for that, too?”

She does.

“I wouldn’t have started this conversation if I didn’t.”

The fire priestess looks up at Cersei expectantly. And Cersei hesitates. This is the first time she has asked someone for a favor in…decades, at least, possibly her whole life. Everything else has been an order, a demand, or, in the case of her father, a plea. Never can she remember simply asking someone for something. She loathes it and never wants to do it again.

“You possess…abilities, do you not?”

And Melisandre, unanticipatedly, simply looks at the ground with something akin to self-reproach. “Yes.”

“Then perhaps you could use them. Change the nature of the wildfire, somehow combine it with Dragonglass-you’d only need a few pieces for that. Or, if not, use the fire to focus some sort of death charm.”

“All of which might not work.”

“Then what’s your idea?”

Her eyes drift toward the ground once more. This time, she doesn’t say anything.

As Cersei had thought.

She does not have time for this. She has a country to rule, wildfire to collect, and battle plans to oversee. “Well?” This time, she is forceful. Asking for the aid of her magic might be a favor, but asking for an answer to the question of that aid is not. She already has given far more chances than she’d care to admit to this woman, for some completely indiscernible reason.

“I’ve never done something on that scale. I don’t even know if I could.”

“You brought a man back from the dead.”

She hates how impressed she sounds when she says this.

But, apparently, this display of emotion that isn’t hatred or rage or grief moves her red visitor. “I’ll do my best.” And the accompanying smirk catches Cersei so off-guard she almost drops her wine goblet.

Melisandre takes her leave, and Cersei is left to wonder why her heart is beating so quickly.

Today, it’s some minor Northron lord who made an indecorous comment, which Melisandre tries to use as proof that the North is dividing further, but they both know is just an excuse to see Cersei.

The conversation has evolved into Melisandre talking about how she once tricked a man into handing over his horse. It’s a story she’s never told to anyone; she’d never thought it important, and it reminds her of a time when she was considerably younger (and thus very foolish and inexperienced), besides.

In truth, the only reason this is happening is because they are both far more drunk than they should be, but Melisandre imagines this is what “normal” women do (women who can just live, free of constant doubt and crisis of faith, women who don’t have potentially the fate of the country resting on their shoulders), and that feels…nice.

“And then he says, ‘When I mentioned things were getting too monotonous, this isn’t what I meant. Oh, he was livid.’ ”

Cersei chuckles, though Melisandre suspects that this, like everything else she does, even while under the influence of particularly strong wine, is carefully measured.

“What did you say?”

“I told him now that he finally had something worthy of telling his wife, perhaps she’d pay attention to him for more than two minutes because she probably wouldn’t let him out of her sight again.”

And Cersei abandons all pretense of restraint and absolutely cackles, slamming her free hand down on the table with an ear-piercing THUD. It seems that even in laughter, the queen is hard and fierce, not to be trifled with.

A thin, pink sheen wisps across her (admittedly stunning) cheekbones, and Melisandre thinks Cersei ought to laugh more often.

Perhaps they both should.

But, to quote the most cliché of expressions, all good things must come to an end, as Cersei’s expression, if not her body, suddenly sobers up completely. She is staring at Melisandre, but there is no feeling of familiarity, no understanding. It’s almost as if Cersei is studying her, and Melisandre, in her wine-induced fog, can’t make sense of why.

She gets her answer, though in a much less jovial way than she might have wanted.

“Why are you here?”

“What?”

“You and I both know that you had no real reason to come today, so why are you here? What do you want?”

Melisandre should probably be a little afraid. Cautious, at the very least. She is not. It’s probably the wine.

“I wanted to.”

“No one ever wants to be here.” And Cersei looks sad. Broken. Melisandre knows that expression well: it’s the one that’s been on her face every time she’s looked in the mirror since Shireen.

“I…” But Melisandre doesn’t know what to say. For someone so good at giving speeches, inciting crowds into action, for a woman who could make one of the most powerful men alive follow her without a second thought, she cannot think of any words to reasonably continue this conversation.

After a few minutes pass, the best her hazy brain can supply is, “Your…brother…wanted…?”

“Don’t talk about him,” Cersei growls.

And Melisandre is, once again, silent.

(Although, not out of fear. This silence comes from knowing she’s touched upon a sore spot, and she has no reason or desire to keep prodding it further.)

“I know you’re only here to lay out some sort of trap for me. You should leave while I still allow you to.”

“What reason have I given you to distrust me?”

“Everyone has reasons to distrust them.”

She supposed that wasn’t entirely wrong.

“How do I know you aren’t trying to entrap me?”

Cersei scoffs. “What use would I have of that?”

Melisandre tries not to interpret this to mean that she is ultimately unimportant, but she is painfully unsuccessful.

“I know what my reputation is,” the queen continues. “And I know why I have it. I don’t regret any of the things I’ve done to earn it.”

“Neither do I,” Melisandre answers, softly, pained. She probably should regret a lot of things. But she can’t. She was only doing what she had thought was R’hllor’s will. The right thing.

Cersei closes her eyes, grips the table until her knuckles are white. It is now that Melisandre notices the dark circles under her eyes. Likely due to many sleepless nights. Broken faith and extreme responsibility will do that.

“If you distrust me so much, why didn’t you dismiss me? It can’t be because you have any sort of affection toward me. I was under the impression that you didn’t really like anyone.”

Cersei opens her eyes, and their normally brilliant shade of green is diluted with a scattering of unfallen tears.

“I liked my children.” A deep breath. “I loved my children. Every single thing I ever did was to protect my family.” And with that, the tears fall. Followed by many more.

Before Melisandre even has time to process what is currently happening, Cersei begins sobbing quietly.

This is not a situation she knows how to fix.

There was a difference between comforting someone like…Selyse, and someone like Cersei. Selyse would be placated by empty compliments, reassurances that everything was proceeding according to plan, a prayer. None of that would appease Cersei.

She considers leaving the queen to her onslaught of emotions, letting her stew in her bitterness. But some part of her whispers that that’s not fair.

And so she walks the few steps over to the table with the wine to gently pry the crying woman’s hands from her face, before letting her arms wrap hesitantly around her. Because that was a thing people sometimes did when other people were sad, and it seems like a good thing to do. And, well, she doesn’t have any other ideas.

And from the way Cersei immediately clings back and lets her tears fall unrestrained into Melisandre’s hair, punctuated by a breathy “Thank you,” heavy with so many indecipherable emotions, she realizes just how much this woman has needed a hug.

They stay like that for quite a long while. It is deep into the night when Melisandre finally leaves.

After that night, everything changes. There are no more pretenses for their meetings. No charade of discussing politics. Everything is more familiar, softened, easy. Many days they don’t talk of the war at all.

Cersei suspects this is what having a friend must feel like. She won’t pretend that it’s unpleasant, but she knows it’s only a matter of time before something happens. Or before Melisandre abandons her, like everyone else.

…But that doesn’t necessarily mean she can’t indulge right now, does it? It’s been so long since anyone outside of her family made her feel something that wasn’t excruciating disappointment.

The servants are starting to talk, crying out that “history is repeating” and “has she learned nothing from Stannis.”

If Cersei were capable of simple leisure anymore, she would be laughing almost constantly. Stannis, with his over-inflated sense of responsibility and one-sided justice. He never needed the Red Woman to cause his own ruin. He had only kept himself alive as long as he had because of Melisandre’s council, divorced from his obsessions with keeping the realm pristine and with drawing lines no one was allowed to cross

With everything Stannis pretended he was, he could never have truly appreciated her.

It is late, and she has met her visitor just inside the gate. They begin their walk back to the Red Keep, passing two stable boys who have just finished repairing one of the walls. The younger of the two looks at the woman cloaked in red, expression a mix between panic and barely-suppressed anger. They run away as fast as their small legs can carry them, and the older one whispers something about “the fall of House Baratheon” just before they vanish out of sight into one of the many dark alleys that adorn this part of the castle.

Cersei hears a sharp exhalation beside her, and Melisandre’s face, made at once both smooth and angular by the glow of the moon, looks how Cersei imagines her own had upon hearing of Tyrion’s escape.

“I think it best I should leave.” Her friend ally guest occasional conversation partner speaks tensely, almost as if she could shatter at the insult, were she too uncareful. She whirls around and starts moving back toward the gate.

“Melisandre,” Cersei says, and they both freeze. They both know this is the first time she has openly addressed her by name, without an accompanying title or epithet.

And the tension instantly slides off Melisandre’s face, as simple as a flame being extinguished by a puff of air.

Cersei looks at her inquiringly; Melisandre meets her eyes, nodding stiffly. They stroll back to their customary meeting spot, and Cersei feels a nervousness she can’t name creep up her neck and around her skull. She thinks she hears her escort of choice breathe observably louder than usual as they step over the threshold into the room. She isn’t sure what this means, other than it makes the dreadful feeling worse.

She tries to think of something to say, but her mind is blank. As if someone has burned away all the thoughts in it, or spilled an inkwell over any pages of conversation she might have pre-written, rendering them unreadable.

To give herself something to do, she decides to light a few candles. But she finds herself so distracted by whatever-in-the-Seven’s-name this is that she burns her finger, a small “Aarh” escaping her mouth, unbidden. Melisandre glances over in concern, and-upon realizing what has happened-gently walks forward to help. At this point, Cersei is scrambling to light a second candle. Quite ineffectively, as her finger hurts too much for her to use it for anything.

Red hair brushes over Cersei’s arm as Melisandre takes the candle and the stick used to light it. Their hands brush during this exchange, and for some curious reason, Melisandre keeps her head down, pretending to be fascinated by the tendrils of smoke peeling off from the candelabra as she transfers flame to the rest of the candles.

She pulls a handkerchief out of some fold of her dress (red, always red, like the color of Cersei’s house or the blood that runs through her veins), and, instead of merely handing over the scrap of fabric, gingerly winds it around Cersei’s injured finger with utmost care.

“There,” the Red Woman murmurs. Her hand is still on her makeshift bandage, curled around Cersei’s finger; her eyes are wide, her lips pressed tightly together, as if trying not to say something.

A minute passes and still neither of them lets go.

Shrouded in the half-light of the candles, Melisandre continues to keep her gazed fixed to the ground, and Cersei feels an increasing need for her to, instead, train her deep blue eyes on Cersei’s green. There is no practical reason for her to want this, other than an inkling that, should it happen, the strange and terrible feeling will lessen. Eventually, she is rewarded for her patience; Melisandre seems to resolve some inner conflict before looking into her eyes unwaveringly, taking her available hand and hesitantly tucking a lone, stray thread of hair behind Cersei’s ear.

Cersei’s breath catches, and she realizes just what that feeling is.

Melisandre nearly crashes her hand back down against her side in a rush to get it away from Cersei’s face. The skin around her eyes is taut, the rest of her face colored with trepidation. She looks…

…Afraid.

That was not an emotion she had ever thought she’s see on Melisandre’s face. She had somehow thought her incapable of feeling such a thing. A thrill rushes through her at the idea that, in a world containing the Undead, dragons, endless stretches of war and struggle and death, she alone was responsible for this expression gracing the Red Woman’s face.

She can tell Melisandre wants to leave, convinced she has crossed a boundary that cannot be uncrossed. And if it were anyone else, she would gladly tell them to get out.

But that isn’t what she wants.

It’s been quite a long time since she’s truly gotten what she wants.

So, before her conversation partner guest ally friend can so much as turn around, she frames her face between her hands and kisses her.

Melisandre responds enthusiastically, fisting one hand in Cersei’s short hair, the other wrapping around her waist in an effort to pull their bodies closer together.

Cersei thought kissing a woman would be…different…somehow. And it was. But not as drastically as she had assumed. It was an odd contradiction of having an intimate knowledge of what was effective (such as running her thumb over Melisandre’s cheek here), and being acutely aware that the body pressed against hers was of a different shape and construction than any of those she had previously allowed this close to her.

It’s intoxicating.

All she feels a heady sensation a thousand times more powerful than even the strongest wine, and everything, everything is Melisandre.

She is no longer foolish enough to believe in the existence of happiness. But perhaps this comes close.

 It’s not as pronounced of a change in their relationship as last time, but it is, undoubtedly, a more meaningful one.

The remnants of stilted distrust have given way to a new openness between them, one punctuated by languid kisses and running soft fingers through the other’s hair.

Now, when Cersei’s eyebrows knit together while revising a battle plan, Melisandre can place a gentle hand there to smooth them out. When Melisandre experiments with fire, Cersei is there to tell her (bluntly, with a hint of irritation) when she is breaking her focus and to ask her what more she needs.

They have formed a cohesive unit; their plans to stop the Dragon Queen and the Undead have reached their final stages. Melisandre is practicing what magic she can, and when they are not finding solace in each other for a few precious moments, they are reviewing and re-reviewing war tactics. The end is near. For some, if not all of them.

“We attack tomorrow,” Cersei pronounces. Resigned. Resolute.

Everything that had happened over the past year had been building up to this.

Cersei’s newborn son has been sent away with one of the only knights the two of them have agreed she can trust. If God is kind, the boy will be tucked away in the far southwest, on the coast of an unmapped island, cared for and defended.

Everything is in place. Except for one small item of discussion.

“Absolutely not.”

“I am not asking you to spare anyone else. Just the girl.”

“Why should I spare Sansa? How could I justify that?” Cersei turns from the window she had been staring out of. The wind ruffles the top of her head and she looks graceful, poised.

(Beautiful.)

“We are not allowed to pay favorites in war, Melisandre.”

“She has been nothing but an agent of peace. Every single thing the Dragon Queen has done, she has been against. If we need anyone left alive on our side when this is over, it must be her.”

Cersei remains unconvinced.

“Her sole motive has been to protect her family and vanquish the Undead. Surely you can understand that.”

The barely-perceptible droop in Cersei’s shoulders indicates that she does.

“The world is not done with her yet. She simply wants to be left alone. She won’t disturb you if the North is safe. If you want to protect your child, sparing Sansa Stark will help do that.”

“Very well. I will spare her. Only. Her.”

“Promise me. For the love of this country—”

“I don’t love this country. I love you.” Her eyes drift wistfully out the window once more, mind temporarily lost in a dream of some other, happier, theoretical life. “I love my child. More than anything. More than my own life.” Cersei’s eyes shift back to the here and now, her gaze piercing, but almost as if in a show of bravado. She is posturing, trying to undo this show of vulnerability. And as Melisandre takes in her rigid back; clenched hands, with sharp, leonine nails digging into them; eyes fighting desperately to stay open instead of closing to indulge in some other, less ferocious emotion, she realizes that Cersei is afraid she’ll leave. Even now.

Extreme, non-pious emotions have never been something she wore well. But she cannot let this woman stand here and doubt her loyalty. She cannot let her think her trust and love have gone unrequited.

“I assumed I would never know what it meant to love something that wasn’t God. I never thought myself capable. You proved both of those things to be false. Thank you for that.”

The smile on Cersei’s face is sweet, tender, almost beatific in its loveliness.

When she turns toward the window again, her demeanor has changed into something almost unrecognizable. She looks oddly calm for someone about to end a war years in the making.

Melisandre takes a few steps and joins her, surveys the starless sky, feels the icy, uncomfortable breeze on her face.

And as Cersei quietly threads her hand through hers, Melisandre feels that strange sense of calmness wash over her, too.

For, whatever happened, they would face it together.

[swanqueeneverafter]

60. The Final Battle, Pt.2

Enchanted Forest. Dockside Tavern. Present. (Will Scarlett enters a tavern, spots who he's looking for and approaches. Taking a small pouch from his pocket, he dumps the contents onto the table.) Will: "Sorry,  didn't mean to interrupt. Actually, yes, I did.” Blackbeard: “And who are you supposed to be?” Will: “The name’s Will Scarlett.” Blackbeard: “You’re interrupting my game, Will Scarlett.” Will: “Judging by your dwindling chips, I'd say I've done you a favor.” Blackbeard: “If you want a favor in return, (Draws his sword:) I'd be happy to oblige.” Will: “Well, as luck would have it, I do need a favor. A magic bean, to be exact. I’ve asked around and I’ve heard that Captain Blackbeard is the man to see about one of those.” Blackbeard: “And in return, that sorry lot of cheap jewelry you probably stole from some wench?” Will: “If the jewels aren't enough, I do have one more thing I could offer.” Blackbeard: “Oh, and what's that?” Will: “I’ve heard that you haven't had a vessel for some time. Not since you lost the Jolly Roger.” Blackbeard: “It’s only a matter of time before I find her again.” Will: “Well, it's a good thing I'm here, then, isn't it? Because what's a pirate without a ship?” Blackbeard: “Are you trying to antagonize me?” Will: “Yes, I am.” Blackbeard: (Picks up his sword once more:) “Oh, good. Then you do wish to duel.” Will: “I wish to do something better. (Puts his hand on the sword and slowly lowers it to the table:) Something a bit more civilized. (Picks up a deck of cards:) How about a hand of cards for the location of the Jolly Roger?” Blackbeard: (Nods to his companions at the table, who leave:) “Have a seat.” Tavern. Exterior. (Meanwhile, as they wait outside the tavern, Alice and Robin are having an argument.) Alice: “You're not hurting my friend. He really is a sweetheart. The gentlest of giants.” Robin: “Well I have to find him first. I think he's close.” Alice: (Points to a tavern opposite to the one Will is currently in:) “Well, maybe someone in there has met him. Then you'll see.” The Double Woodpecker Tavern. (They enter the tavern to find it filled with women, children and several men brandishing weapons.) Robin: “Oh, I think they've met him.” (A man wielding an axe approaches them.) Clayton: “If you've come seeking shelter, you'll find none here. That monster destroyed our homes.” Alice: “He's not a monster. Why does everyone keep saying that?” Robin: “Because non-monsters don't flatten villages.” Clayton: “Smart girl. I see you have a weapon. You can stay here and protect the women and children.” Robin: (Scoffs:) “Like hell, I will. I'm going after him, same as you.” Alice: “All right, everyone stop.” Robin: “Alice, be quiet.” Alice: (Continues:) “Okay, that troll? That one you keep calling a monster? He's the only reason I'm free. He's my friend. And he'd never hurt anyone. Unlike you.” (Several men begin to encircle them upon hearing Alice’s words.) Clayton: “You're a crazy girl. How 'bout we put you back where you belong? Lock her up.” Alice: (As a man grabs her:) “Wha-” Clayton: “And her friend too.” Robin: “Whoa, whoa. Friend's a strong word. I just met the girl.”

Storybrooke. Abandoned Farmhouse. (David and Snow White are locked inside a large cage while Robin sits there watching them.) Snow White: "Robin, we're sorry for trespassing. We had no idea you were living out here." David: "You can't just lock us in a cage!" Snow White: "Robin, you know us, we're your friends. You don't have to worry about us." Robin: "In my experience, if you really don't want to worry about something, you lock it into a cage... A strong cage, like this one. It's when you unlock the cage... that's when the trouble starts.” Zelena: “Did someone say trouble?” (Robin stands and turns to face Regina and Zelena.) Regina: “We love trouble.” Robin: “Ah, the sisters reunited at last, how touching.” Zelena: “Drop the charade, Gothel. We know it’s you.” (Smiling wickedly, Robin transforms into Gothel.) Gothel: “Oh well, I suppose the fun had to end sometime. (To Zelena:) You were exquisite, my dear. Everything I’d hoped for and more. Even if we were in foreign bodies at the time.” Zelena: “Ugh, I think I’m going to be sick.” Gothel: “Come now. After all, the only reason you had a daughter in the first place is because of the very same deception. Turn about is fair play, wouldn’t you agree?” Regina: (Stepping in front of Zelena:) "After what you did to my niece, you're lucky I don't rip you to pieces right now." Gothel: (Chuckles:) “With what magic?” Regina: “I may not have magic, but there is magic here. It’s only a matter of time before I get mine back.” Gothel: (Sighs, non-plussed:) “Your son couldn't convince the Savior to break the curse. Do you think that was an accident?” Regina: “What did you do to Emma?” Gothel: “I didn't have to do anything. Henry may have the heart of the Truest Believer, but your precious Emma’s belief is gone and there's nothing you can do to bring it back. I, meanwhile, have been putting my efforts elsewhere, and I'm willing to offer you salvation. Join me now and your family will be spared." Regina: "Spared from what?" Gothel: “The balance of nature is shifting, Regina. We're on the precipice of a great extinction. One that man cannot crawl back from.” Regina: “Sorry, but I'm not really a joiner. You and the Black Fairy may have cursed us, but Storybrooke is my home. And I protect my own.” Gothel: “Why don’t you look outside if you doubt my power. Those aren’t clouds in the sky. It’s a rebirth.” (As lightning splits the sky, Gothel disappears with one last wink to Zelena.)

Enchanted Forest. Tavern. Present. (Blackbeard and Will continue their card game. Will throws down his cards, having lost another round.) Will: "Deal.” Blackbeard: “Still don't know when to quit?” Will: “Deal!” Blackbeard: “What's so important about that magic bean? Who are you running from?” Will: “I've been separated from my sister for far too long. Turns out, the witch who cursed us, is the only one who can cure us.” Blackbeard: “Well, I’m afraid you’re gonna have to wait even longer. (Blackbeard lays his cards on the table. Laughing:) Time to pay up, my boy!” Will: (Nods:) “Let's go, then.” Blackbeard: “Aye. Let's.” (Both men stand and leave the tavern.) The Land Without Magic. Boston. (Emma returns to her old Boston apartment and places her bag on the table. Sitting in a chair, her attention is caught by something poking out of her bag. Standing, she crosses the room and takes a notebook with a message from Henry written on the cover.) Henry: (VO:) "You might not think this story's true. But I know that it is. And it can still have a happy ending." (Opening the book, Emma sees the depiction of herself, alone, blowing out the candle on her birthday cupcake. Turning the page she sees herself fighting a dragon and then waking Henry with true love's kiss.)

Enchanted Forest. Jail Cell. (Alice & Robin have been locked up. Alice pulls hard on her chains before giving up, frustrated.) Alice: “I've got to get out of here!” Robin: “Well, you should've thought about that before you went all hippie Troll-hugger on that Frankenstein mob.” Alice: “I had to try and stop them. He didn't mean it. The troll's just scared, and confused and he's all alone.” Robin: “It must be hard for you. Being locked up again.” Alice: “The day I got out of that tower was a bloody dream come true. At least at first.” Robin: “Why? What happened?” Alice: “I thought I'd find a way for me and Will to be together again. 'Cause what's the point of being free if you're all alone?” Will: (Chuckles, softly:) “You know, I give your brother a hard time, but he’s been great to me.” Alice: "You never did say how you two met?" Robin: (Looks down:) "He saved my life. There's something I should tell you... I'm not as old as I look." Alice: "No?" Robin: "No. Technically, my brother, Roland? He’s my older brother. I'm barely a year old." Alice: (Laughs:) "Excuse me? What are you talking about, you're clearly about my age." Robin: "Let's just say Gothel has touched a lot of lives." Alice: "Gothel?" Robin: (Nods:) "She used her magic to age me, to force my mother's hand. Will got me out of Storybrooke before the curse could hit." Alice: "And I thought my life was tragic. You've missed out on your entire childhood. At least I had a few years with my parents and Will before I was locked away." Robin: (Shrugs:) "It's not so bad. I'm able to pick things up super quickly." Alice: "Well even so, you can't have any sort of childhood memories." Robin: "No, but I remember my Mom. And my Dad, before he died. If there's one good thing to come out of what happened, it's that I've managed to keep all of the memories I had while I was a baby." Alice: "Is that why you're dressed like your Dad, to be close to him?" Robin: "How did you-" Alice: "Will brought me loads of books back when I was in the tower. The stories about Robin Hood were some of my favourites." Robin: (Strokes Alice’s face:) "I'm amazed you didn't go mad, all alone in that tower." Alice: "I did used to talk to a hat. (They share a laugh:) It wouldn’t have worried me if I had gone a little mad though. I remember my Papa used to say all the best people are mad. He’d say ‘Alice, you meet loads of people in this world. But the best ones, they’ll challenge you. Make you see the world through a whole new looking glass.“ Robin: “You're lucky. I never got any fatherly advice. All I have is his name and his legacy to uphold. Which is why, (Holds up her now unchained wrists:) I can't stay here.” Alice: “How’d you do that?!” Robin: “I told you I was a fast learner. (Holds up a hair pin:) First lesson of escape and thievery: sleight of hand.” Alice: (Checking her hair:) “Amazing! Do me next!” Robin: (Getting to her feet and walking to the cell door:) “I’m sorry, Tower Girl. But hitting that Troll is my one shot at honoring my father’s legacy. (Uses the hair pin on the cell door, which springs open:) And I'm not gonna let you stop me.” (Robin walks out of the cell, leaving Alice behind.)

Storybrooke. Outskirts. (Using a locator spell, Mr. Gold follows Belle's copy of 'Her Handsome Hero' to a rundown house in the suburbs. Stooping down to pick up the book, Mr. Gold notices the curtains twitching. Glancing up at the gathering storm clouds, Mr. Gold walks up the front steps and enters the house.) Mr. Gold: "Belle? (He places the book on a side table and walks further into the house. Entering the kitchen, he finds Belle crouching in fear behind the cooker:) Belle." Belle: “I don't want to leave! (Scrambles to her feet:) I don't want to leave! Please!” (Belle runs past him into another room and locks the door behind her.) Mr. Gold: “Belle.” Belle: “How do you know my name?” Mr. Gold: “I can explain if you give me a chance.” Belle: “Just leave me alone, okay? I'm safe here.” Mr. Gold: “Belle, I know this is difficult to understand but... you're not like this. The Black Fairy did this to you. Changed you. I promise you, the woman who did this, I am gonna make her pay.”

Enchanted Forest. Docks. (Blackbeard, laughing, leads Will towards the docks.) Blackbeard: "Now, where's my ship?" Will: "Ah, yeah, about that. I don't actually know where the Jolly Roger is. I was kinda banking on beating you at cards." Blackbeard: "You lied to me!" Will: "And you had six aces in your deck. I'm not as drunk as your other opponents, mate." Blackbeard: (Drawing his sword:) "Underhanded methods or not, the fact remains that you now owe me a ship." Will: "Well I don't bloody have one, do I?" Blackbeard: "Then I see no reason to delay killing you." Will: (Panicking:) "But I do know who has it." Blackbeard: "Really, and who's that?" Will: "Hook. He's got your ship." Blackbeard: "Does he now? Excellent. (Sheathing his sword, Blackbeard plucks a magic bean from the brim of his hat:) Now all I have to do is use this bean to find Hook, and the Jolly Roger shall be mine once more." (As Blackbeard is about to use the magic bean, he is struck in the neck by a blow dart, which causes him to lose consciousness. Quickly catching the bean as Blackbeard falls to the ground, Will looks to see a woman approaching.) Will: "Er... thanks for that." Tiger Lily: "Think nothing of it. Now, hand over that bean." Will: "Oh, sorry love, I can't do that." Tiger Lily: "And I can't allow you to use that bean." Will: "Look, I'm sure you're a really nice person who just wants to get back to her loved ones, but this is my bean and I'm not-" (Before Will can finish his thought, Tiger Lily plunges a second concealed dart into his neck, knocking Will unconscious.)

[im-fairly-whitty]

I want to ask your opinion on something that I've been wondering: We knows that Coco continued to love music in secret all her life and even sung to baby Miguel, so, why didn't Coco just lifted the music ban after Imelda died? Was she respecting her mother's memory? or did she believe to some extend that music was bad but just couldn't help loving it? And while we are on the subject, what are your headcanons about Coco's relationship with Imelda growing up?

Why didn’t Coco bring back music when she was the matriarch?

This is a great question, it all comes down to family dynamics!

Let’s take a look at the different stages of the Rivera family over the last few generations shall we?

1. The Young Couple^^

Imelda and Hector are married and live together. Their relationship is star-crossed and overall stress levels are relatively low, decisions are made together as a team, probably often bending to Imelda’s strong opinions. Keep in mind that Hector is 17 and Imelda is 18, meaning that their emotions run comparatively high and hot, both their disagreements and decisions are likely dealt with quick. 

Current family authority figure: Largely irrelevant, they’re a couple of kids who do everything together and don’t yet have any serious responsibilities other than keeping each other happy. 

2. The Young Family^^

Coco is born and now the couple becomes a family. Stress increases considerably as the new parents now have to care and provide for a child, leading both Hector and Imelda to take their roles much more seriously. For Imelda, this means putting Coco’s needs before her own (as referenced in the movie) but for Hector, this means taking his music more seriously so that his career can effectively provide for his wife and daughter.

Current family authority figure: Hector has nothing but the utmost respect for his diosa, meaning that he does not lord his male status over her, but the fact remains that he is indeed a man in the early 1900′s and he ultimately has the final word on family decisions. Unfortunately, one of those decisions is to go on the road with Ernesto. Imelda is unhappy with the decision and doubtless she voices her opinions loud and clear, but she does recognize/respect Hector as the main provider of the family and of course trusts that he will come back home to her.

3. The single mother^^

When Hector never returns, Imelda becomes a young single mother with a daughter to provide for. She learns a new profession, opens a shoe shop, and becomes fiercely protective of her child. Being a single parent is difficult and shouldering the burden of filling both parenting roles hardens her, making her headstrong personality into something sharper. 

Current family authority figure: Imelda by default has complete control and responsibility in this family of two. As the parent of a young child, everything she says goes, including her absolute ban on music as a kind of emotional revenge against her missing husband. As the shoe shop grows Oscar and Felipe come to live and work with her, but her status as their older sister gives her authority over them as well, meaning they fall under the music ban as well.

4. The lone matriarch^^

Several years go by with Imelda being in complete and undisputed control of the family. When Julio begins courting Coco he undergoes a rigorous approval process to gain Imelda’s blessing. Imelda is NOT going to let her daughter end up abandoned like she did, meaning that in order to join the family Julio also must completely give up all music. He completely defers to her will, submitting to any and all of her rules in order to be with Coco. The Rivera household gains another member (and shoemaker) for the first time in over ten years.

Current family authority figure: Imelda’s status remains unchallenged despite the arrival of a new family member, which sets a precedence of controlling authority that remains in force throughout the rest of her life.

5. Mamá Imelda^^

Time passes and Imelda remains in complete control. The music ban remains in force and an entire generation of children are raised under it, truly believing that music is evil. Coco is old enough to remember life with music and hides her secret love of dancing. It is not until she injures herself while dancing and scares her two young daughters that Coco comes clean about it to her mother and gives up her dancing habit altogether. (A scene from the novelization.) 

Coco respects her mother’s wishes and is now sandwiched between her mother and the rising generation that all reject music, so she keeps her continuing respect for music to herself. She has been raised to put her family before music, and she does just that, no matter how much it hurts her.   

Current family authority figure: Imelda all the way.

6. Coco y Julio^^

When Imelda passes away in the 1970′s the Rivera family is a bustling business with at least two generations living in the home. Coco becomes the new matriarch, but instead of directing the family by herself, she has her loving husband by her side. There is a strongly established family culture by now that all the family members down to the children uphold (including her daughter Elena). Coco could technically have brought music back at this point, but remember that she’s spent her entire life hiding it. To do so would be to re-write the emotional core of the Rivera family that has been built on everything that “He-Who-Must-Be-Forgotten” wasn’t. Ie: Family always comes first, never leave your family, no music.

Besides, Coco isn’t the headstrong single mother that Imelda was, Coco values her relationship with Julio and presides with him as an equal partner. This makes her less likely to try dramatically upheaving the family just because she as an individual would prefer to have music, she cares for the group before herself. 

Current family authority figure: Coco, but operating under the very strong legacy of Imelda and the expectations of the rest of her family, who have all been raised to rigidly respect the rules Imelda set. Since Coco has also been raised to put her family first she respects her mother’s wishes and simply continues to steer the family the direction Imelda did.

7. Elena takes control^^

Coco grew up in a very emotionally turbulent time, meaning that her wishes were always bent to obey her mother out of necessity, but Elena had the luxury of growing up in a stable home with both parents. This means that Elena’s firey streak has never had to be repressed, allowing her to fully take after her Abuelita Imelda. 

Elena has grown up fully believing in the music ban and enforces it religiously within the family, believing that by doing so she is protecting them all from the kind of evils of the mystery man who abandoned her abuelita all those years, the man who has haunted whispered adult conversations in her home as long as she can remember. When her Mama Coco begins to decline Elena rises as Imelda’s spitting image, doing whatever she deems necessary to protect her hard-working and beloved family.

Current family authority figure: Elena all the way. While her mother was more docile when it came to sharing authority, Elena rises magnificently to the role of matriarch.

The Future:

The Rivera family has always been one full of love, but the roots of this particular family tree were badly scarred, triggering it to develop strong defenses against anything that could hurt it that way again. While Coco as an individual kept music and her Papá’s memory alive in her heart, she existed as only one part of a larger group that she had been trained to always put first.

The Rivera paradox is that change couldn’t come from Coco alone, it had to be initiated by Miguel, a member of the rising generation, who could reach out and support Coco with his own music. The beautiful part is that “Remember me” is a song that spans all the generations of the Rivera family, from Hector (Father) to Coco (daughter) through Miguel (great-great-grandson). 

“Remember Me” heals the hurt the Rivera family has endured for generations from both ends, reviving memories of the past while being played by Miguel, who represents a bright musical future for the Riveras.

[canemnecredite]

armis exposcere pacem.

date: 08 february 2018, approx. 8:15 pm / midday after the battle for the eastern district location: the woods along the lake & the perimeter of the greek camp / adriana’s tent at the waterfront headquarters  

synopsis: after accepting the proposal extended to her by jax, adriana makes her way to the greek headquarters to initiate their mission / adriana reflects on the events of the war up to the present and her place in the battles to come (with a noticeable change in appearance)

triggers: death mention, gore (just one theoretical mention of injury)

characters this may concern: @avadakaravadra​ / @fireandseaweed​ / @peacefully-blossom

“Armis Exposcere Pacem” - They demanded peace by force of arms.

       The motto of the Clan Caninii works twofold. It defines their history as rebels against those who challenged the Roman Republic -- insurgents such as Julius Caesar and Octavian who sought to turn Rome from a people’s Republic to an Empire under the single authority of a dictator -- and upholds their belief that the independence of the Roman people and their voice in matters that concern their home and livelihood are meant to be respected and heard -- that these crucial foundations of the Republic must be defended for the good of the people. When Caesar began taking arms against those who would oppose him and threatened the continued governance of the Senate, the Caninii, along with others, took up arms against the tyrant, because there is no peace without war.

But if the New Roman Senate has become a Caesar in its own right... is there even a Republic left to salvage?

Roman names are unique. A Roman may have multiple given names and compartmental surnames. When most people hear the name Caninii, their minds immediately recognize the root word caninus, meaning “canine;” and while this root is not false, it is also not the whole picture. Caninii is the plural form for each individual family member’s surname, Caninius -- a name also related to the word canus, which means “white” or “grey.” White, for peace. Grey, for ambiguity. The name for a clan who hold themselves in neutrality, until the time is right.  

Clans, of course, have branches. For Romans, these branches are identified by cognomen, names ascribed to individuals or families for particular traits or achievements. Rebilus is theirs. It comes from rebellis, meaning “rebellious,” “rebel,” or “insurgent.” A curious name for such a high ranking noble family, but the Caninii are in no way ashamed of their legacy. They embrace their ancestor’s victory over Octavian. Defying a man like that, with immense power at his back, as ancient pirates attacking, raiding, and blocking his navy, no less, was remarkably bold. Sirius had been an integral part in a successful act of defiance against Rome’s future first emperor. For millennia, his descendants have strived to follow his example -- to fight for peace and end a war, even if that peace came to be short-lived. But the tenets set down in antiquity and preserved through countless generations have warped over time. They have been tainted by the the New Roman Senate and the shadowy organization that backs their ideals. But how can the Senate be a true senate when they hardly regard the words of their people? All of their people. They have become manipulative and absolute, dishing out orders as if they were a single power not to be questioned. As if their council is an emperor in its own right.

Adriana no longer believes they deserve the title of Senate. Though their mark has been burned into her arm as an obligatory identification of her conscription to the Legion, if this is how they intend to continue, she has come to reject any subscription to their orders. Her careful resistance to her grandfather’s authority and yet determination to inherit the empire that her kin have made is the result of her intention to reforge her house’s reputation and operation. She strives to be true to her ancestor’s legacy, even if it means threatening her standing in New Roman society.

As she trod through the forest shadows along the lakeside, Adriana found herself facing somewhat of an existential crisis. The events of the war up to this point had left her with mixed feelings. When Blossom’s pride celebration had been subjected to a raid, the sweet girl arrested, the Greeks branded as alien citizens, forced from the Legion, and then exiled-- each event had stoked her frustration, then anger, with the Senate. She had come to Lina the day before the horrific attacks that prompted the war, ready to defy the Senate’s orders to their cohort and shed the blood of any legionnaire who got in her way, if it came to that. Perhaps it was unbelievably rash, but her legionnaires being commanded to assist in the exile of those who had been their family in the Fourth had triggered a rage that had her seeing red. If Lina hadn’t “assaulted” her, it was likely she would have been branded a traitor and locked away... or worse. Lina had made a tremendous sacrifice to keep their kids safe, and now it was Adriana’s turn to protect those she loved.

However, the armory had been bombed, supposedly by the Greeks. She had no way of confirming that, but the loss of a place so dear to her heart, and multiple siblings and co-workers along with it, had stirred the poison in her blood. Fergus and Callum had fallen to the Romans, and still, those few weeks in camp had left her conscience torn. Lina had obligated Adriana to watch over their legionnaires. The centurion had felt as though she couldn’t budge, because she owed Lina that much. Then, she had attended Fergus’ wake and funeral. A funeral with no body to burn in his honor. It was Jax’s proposal that night that had finally pushed her over that edge. She had been clinging to orders to maintain stability, so a mission had been the perfect catalyst for initiating the action she had been dying to take. Especially knowing she had Jax backing her as a partner and ally.

Whatever they had become was a stranger to the tempestuous relationship they had shared growing up. Their rivalry remained, though void of the mutual dislike that had existed so passionately between them. Adriana didn’t know what to make of it. Despite their animosity, they had always made efficient partners. They trusted one another in their own twisted way, only now, something far deeper was underlying that trust. But she refused to acknowledge it. She was putting blind faith in that force as if it was liable to break should she address it. The mission was enough. Her personal emotions would only get in its way. Yet, leaving him behind in the dark to venture into dangerous territory alone widened that tear of doubt in her chest ever so slightly.

She had to shake her head to cast off the feeling, but it would never fade entirely. For just a moment, she paused and looked out over the water. The radiant silver glow of a waning half moon rippled atop the lake. The corner of her lips twitched upward at the sight. It was lovely. Too lovely for the period of violence that had engulfed her home. With that thought, the lighthearted tease of a smile faded.

“I hope he’s right,” the daughter of Mars sighed as her gold-tinted gaze lifted to the titaness in the sky, assuming she was there in some capacity. The titans were far more elusive than the gods, but Adriana regarded her ancestor with a childlike hope. Surely, Luna was not entirely ignorant to her bloodline’s prayers. “Keep an eye on him,” she implored. “Not for my sake, or his; for everyone’s. You can’t take sides, and neither can I, but I need him to do this. I know Fergus believed in peace, even if he refused to say it. He had the same blood of yours in his veins as in mine and he died trying to prevent this war.” Subconsciously, her thumb brushed over the small shell that had been tied around the hilt of her sword-- a reminder of her silent promise to avenge an undeserved death. Her lids slid over her eyes as she did so. “If you have any regard for your legacies, please, listen to me. Just this once.”

When the moonlight reflected in the woman’s vision again, her observation of the night’s canvas failed to identify any shift in the surroundings, to no surprise. Her attention fell to her hip, where her sword was harnessed and her fingers wrapped around its hilt. A long breath exhaled through her nose. War was meant to be her element, yet here she was, praying to a distantly related deity for assistance in terminating it. Her father must have been aghast. Nevertheless, the daughter of war set her sights forward and pressed on.

As the lights of the waterfront base grew nearer, the grip on her sword tightened. However she was received by the Greeks, it wouldn’t be readily. Adriana was, after all, a long-established centurion of ancient Roman blood. No matter what recent sentiments she had displayed, she would be questioned, and carefully guarded. What came after the declaration of her purpose was impossible to discern. If she had any hope of securing a place within their ranks, it was best she approached with as benign a demeanor as possible. So, as she emerged from the treeline, she slowed her pace and unbuckled her sheath. Her hands were held up, the blade in her right, and when the three boys on patrol spotted her nearing the perimeter, she acknowledged them with steady words. “I’m here to speak with whoever’s in charge. You can tell them that Centurion Adriana Caninii has come to join your cause -- and she has a very important matter to discuss with them, if they’re willing to hear it.”

The trio looked to one another, wordlessly seeking each other’s thoughts, before the eldest among them nodded and the youngest ran toward the heart of their operations. The third confiscated her sword, which resulted in a reflexive snap of, “Careful with that, or there will be trouble,” and a small spell secured her hands in front of her person. But, they escorted her no further than the interior edge of the border. Smart. It wouldn’t do to lead a suspicious figure through the camp without further inspection. Now, the lot of them had nothing more to do than await the leading Greeks’ judgement.

Adriana’s acceptance into the Greek camp had been a surprisingly more welcome ordeal than expected. Her previous support for their plight had been recognized and her help gladly accepted. The only potential hiccup arose when they had intended to bunk her with the rest of the Roman transfers in the underwater complex. Despite the fact that the dome was secure, she was plagued by an intense fear of diving below the water’s surface in any fashion. As a result, she had pitched a tent in the shade of the forest’s edge. It was in fair proximity to the main corpus of operations, yet far enough away that she could have her privacy. Once again, her new compatriots raised little opposition to her desire. 

Nearly four months had passed since her arrival, and in that time, Adriana had done whatever was required to assist the Greeks’ endeavor. She had been distributing supplies and managing refugees, joining in on supply runs, offering training to some of the younger and lesser experienced fighters, and providing as much information on the Roman strategies and movements as she had to give. She fought where force was needed. No large scale attacks had occurred for some time. It had given them the opportunity to rebuild their strength and stabilize their position. However, true battle was bound to break out eventually, and the Eastern District had proven to be the greatest receptor of demigod blood yet. 

The daughter of Mars had been in the thick of it. Nothing charged her like a real fight. Yet, facing fellow legionnaires in attempted lethal combat had left her with far less enthusiasm than usual. There had been an instance or two when she reflexively defended an old friend -- cursing an arrow from a distance or knocking out an old companion to give the impression that they had fallen in battle. They had almost seized the day. They had been so close to claiming victory... but the Romans countered them with a second wind that no one could have predicted. And despite their valiant efforts, the Greeks were the force to sound a retreat. 

Both sides had dead and wounded to tend to. For a brief time, an tense truce had hovered over the field. The soldiers were able to collect their dead without the threat of physical conflict. Neither the Greeks nor the Romans would want to appear total barbarians, after all. Adriana hadn’t come out unscathed. She wasn’t heavily injured, but bearing a series of small cuts with chips of debris from an explosion off to her side, a cut on her arm from the narrowly dodged thrust of a pilum, and a bruise from a slam to her shoulder that was sure to ripen, she too had stepped away to tend to her wounds. 

She sat on the edge of her makeshift bed -- one of the thin mattresses from the bunks and a blanket to go with it -- sanitizing the slash on her arm. The sting of antiseptic drew a hiss from her tongue. Thankfully, the cut was superficial enough to avoid being stitched. The medics had assured her that with the proper daily cleanings and fresh wraps of bandages, it would heal fairly quickly. The former centurion had gotten off lucky. 

Now, you might be thinking, “Well she’s been fighting since she was four! Of course she made it out;” but the truth is, surviving a battle has nothing to do with skill. You can be the best damn swordsman on the field, but that doesn’t make you any less likely to have an arrow hit you from behind or your leg blown off by a grenade that didn’t catch your eye until it was too late. When the chaos of battle is swirling around you, it’s up to luck and fate whether or not you’ll live to fight another day. And yet the history books still call war glorious.

While winding a bandage around the freshly cleaned skin, an auburn strand of hair slipped out from behind her ear and dangled directly in her line of sight. The woman huffed, and the strand blew forward before inevitably drifting back again. Adriana frowned. Despite the distraction, she completed her task. Once the bandages were firmly tied, she straightened her back and brushed the bit of hair back over her shoulder. The quiet moment was taken to examine the parts of her body that hadn’t yet been treated. Her injuries had all been cared for and cleaned, the exposed skin wiped down to check for any other marks hidden behind the dirt and blood. Her armor, clothes, and hair, on the other hand, were a mess. The armor could be done fairly quickly, but there were places where her clothes were torn, and sanguine stains dappled the fabric.

She hadn’t noticed it at first, but as her hands ran through her tousled hair, she found that the light auburn hue was no less stained than her attire. Adriana brought a portion of it into her grip, considering how to proceed. Washing it would be easy enough... but would it be worth it? The hip-length tresses were a trademark of her person. Skipping over the scene of those blazing locks moving in tandem with the dance of a swordswoman was almost impossible to miss. Adriana knew that, and she counted on it. Why?   

“You can’t fight with hair as long as that!”

The mocking words of a young boy rang through her head as it had in her ears so many moons ago -- a tease that spurred a lifelong competition based on little more than a silly insult taken too seriously. Pride had been of great importance to the future Caninii heiress as a child. The day when that competition began had been one amid the naive period of her life, before she realized that her future was limited by her birth and that her grandfather was manipulating her world to shape her toward a specific role. Her pride had shifted, then. Although honor for family would always remain prominent, it was pride in herself -- rather, confidence -- that became the source of her actions. On that day, she decided to leave her hair long. She would prove to him that her skills in combat could not be dulled by her appearance, her size, or her gender. The funny thing was, her skills didn’t need to be proven. The truth was obvious. But, her childish stubbornness had resulted in her carrying on his challenge for years to come. 

Adriana wasn’t a child anymore. She had nothing to prove in terms of ability. That boy was no longer a child either. They were both walking in shadow to see the war to see the war through. The competition had become trivial, especially now that they sought peace in arms. As she sat there in her tent, the clanging of weapons and shouts of medics in the distance, situated in the Greek encampment, the daughter of war had to wonder-- perhaps, it wasn’t worth it after all. Looking back on who she was then and who she was now, an incredulous puff of a laugh brought the hint of a grin to her lips. Novi diluculo, novus dies. Right?

Rising to her feet, Adriana grabbed her sword and marched down to the lakeshore. She took in the sight of herself for a minute, memorizing the picture that she made so that she could remember it, after. That image would serve as a reminder of who she had been to better appreciate the person she had resolved to become. She closed her eyes and exhaled deeply as she unsheathed her blade and hovered it behind her neck. With one swift cut, her lifelong distinguishing feature had been sheared from her person. When Adriana opened her eyes, the juniper orbs found a welcome stranger gazing back at her, and her grin widened. Literally and figuratively, it felt as though a heavy weight had dropped away. She felt free to do and be as she pleased. Limitless. 

And that was a dangerous state for a demigod of ancient Roman blood with a sword in her hand.

She would find Blossom later, she thought as she turned to stroll back to her tent and sheathed the blade once more. She was a pretty girl. Surely, she knew something about styling a spontaneous haircut... 

[thinktosee]

GAY RIGHTS APPLICATIONS DENIED (ONCE MORE) IN SINGAPORE

A. OPENER

“You pretend! Like you’re so perfect, so godly, but…you’re fake. You are fake.

Religion, what does that even mean to you?....What do your values stand for?....Traditions, culture, all that bullshit and for what?

I stay with my values! I stay with what I believe in! I might be a sinner, but I’m not fake! I know who I am………

But you don’t get to change me. You don’t get to change who I am……

You are hypocrites!”  

  - 16 year old Scott, to his parents, in David’s award-winning play, “Piety.” (1)

B. INTRODUCTION

This post underscores the on-going struggle and dilemma concerning the status and scope relating to the freedom of expression in general, and of the rights or lack thereof, in particular, of the LGBTQI community in Singapore. The following links to reports by U.S. Government and international human rights organizations are informative in so far as they offer a glimpse of the state of civil rights, and the level of respect accorded towards the dignity of our fellow human being in Singapore :

1. https://www.hrw.org/asia/singapore

2. https://www.amnesty.org/en/countries/asia-and-the-pacific/singapore/

3. https://rsf.org/en/singapore

4. https://www.state.gov/wp-content/uploads/2020/02/SINGAPORE-2019-HUMAN-RIGHTS-REPORT.pdf

On Mar 30th, 2020, the high court of singapore ruled in favour of staying a colonial-era law criminalizing consensual sex between men. (2) The law in question, dating to 1938, specifically states  : 

“Outrages on decency

377A : Any male person who, in public or private, commits, or abets the commission of, or procures or attempts to procure the commission by any male person of, any act of gross decency with another male person, shall be punished with imprisonment for a term which may extend to 2 years.” (3)

There were three applications to the court to re-instate personal and constitutional rights, which were legally denied or removed since 1938 at least, from a specific group or community of individuals – homosexual men. (4), (5)

The high court’s opinion regretfully and clearly goes against natural law, which may be defined as follows :

“Natural law can be discovered by reason alone and applies to all people, while divine law can be discovered only through God’s special revelation and applies only to those to whom it is revealed and whom God specifically indicates are to be bound.” (6)

C. CONCLUSIONS OF THE COURT

It appears the court addressed the challenges by the plaintiffs from a standpoint of the supreme rights of society or a seeming majority, against the mores, behaviour and or expressions of a minority community or individual. It is as simple as that, if we discarded all the obfuscating legal jargon. The rights of the individual to life, liberty, freedom, expression and beliefs were unfortunately not exhaustively explored to evince an outcome which is both judicious and acceptable to our conscience.  

Here are excerpts of the court’s conclusions on case histories from India, United States and Hong Kong. International or universal law in this matter, seems to have little relevance in the Singaporean context :

“As I have suggested earlier, this conception of proportionality should be viewed as distinct from traditional principles of judicial review. While the Indian courts may have adopted such an approach, the Singaporean courts have made clear that we continue to subscribe to the traditional principles of judicial review.” (7)

“The willingness of the US courts to review the legitimacy of a statute, as well as its implications, would again be at odds with the reluctance of the Singapore judiciary to address extra-legal arguments.” (8)

“Singapore, however, has not adopted the ICCPR. (9) As such the decision in Yau Yuk Lung is less relevant to our context.” (10)

“A similar point may be made in addressing Navtej, where the Supreme Court of India ruled that the criminalisation of male homosexual conduct violates, among other rights, the right to freedom of expression. (11) I am unable to agree with the reasoning of the Indian Supreme Court given that the court appeared to have accepted a wider meaning of what constitutes “expression”, extending beyond verbal communication of ideas, opinions or beliefs.” (12)

Here’s a conclusion of the court, which in this writer’s opinion, is a Catch-22, really :  

“As a starting point, it must be emphasised that Dr. Tan was taking issue with the enforcement of s377A, as opposed to the constitutionality of s377A itself. These issues are separate and distinct. The manner in which a provision is enforced, even if arbitrary, cannot, without more, result in the provision itself being rendered unconstitutional. The appropriate recourse in such a situation would be to seek administrative review, not constitutional review.” (13)

D. INDIVIDUAL vs SOCIETAL RIGHTS

Individual rights long preceded societal rights. The latter, are in most cases, gained through the diminution of individual rights, or through the theory and practice of the “common good.” That being said, the theory also holds that when a bill or provision is to be considered by the legislature, its adoption, if ever, should be proportional to that which it is intended to regulate (14). This was addressed by the Indian, U.S. and HK examples cited in the foregoing. The law must never be onerously discriminating, harmful or disadvantageous to the society, community or individual. The Singaporean court however, relied disproportionately on what it deemed to be overriding local societal mores, which it apparently equated with supreme rights, a conflation which goes against the grain of justice. Hence, its decision against the applications of the plaintiffs. Without the benefit of a city-wide referendum on s377A, how confident are we really about this societal justification for upholding an unjust law as s377A? And speaking of this unjust law, our words to the Archbishop may help us to differentiate how particularly unjust it  truly is :

“Any law which wilfully discriminates, isolates, targets, inflicts pain or injury upon, suppresses, denies or eliminates the natural and or individual rights of anyone or group is inherently and morally reprehensible. Such law has no place in our home, school, religious institution and society. It is a law of abuse and FEAR. An abuse and fear of a defenceless individual or minority group. An abuse and fear of a community of citizens.”

-         Our “Open letter to the Archbishop, Singapore”, dated Sep 27, 2018 : 

https://thinktosee.tumblr.com/post/178506731468/open-letter-to-the-archbishop-singapore

Finally, to get back to the missing piece – nowhere in the court’s judgement did natural law make an appearance. Or if it did, I for one, missed it. It is as if its applicability is inconsistent with Singaporean jurisprudence. This method evokes, for me at least, a poem by John Donne (1572-1631). (15)  It has relevance to the matter at hand as we shall see :

For Whom the Bell Tolls (16)

No man is an island,

Entire of itself.

Each is a piece of the continent,

A part of the main.

If a clod be washed away by the sea,

Europe is the less.

As well as if a promontory were.

As well as if a manor of thine own

Or of thine friend’s were.

Each man’s death diminishes me,

For I am involved in mankind.

Therefore, send not to know

For whom the bell tolls,

It tolls for thee. 

The title of the poem, “For Whom the Bell Tolls”, was adopted by Ernest Hemingway (1899-1961) for his novel, centring on the Spanish Civil War (1936-39) and the rise of fascism. Hemingway was awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1954. (17)

Quote may be sourced in : “50 years of Hemingway Criticism”, p217. Author - Peter L. Hays, Scarecrow Press, 2014

E. CONCLUSION

Human rights are sacred, as John Donne alludes in his poem about the universality of humanity. We cannot and should not, deny to others, that which has been our collective and shared inheritance. Compassion is never a dirty word. 

The Singaporean court has, despite its most learned applications, failed in this  sacred duty to right a gross injustice to a law-abiding and respectable community of citizens. For this, the bell continues to toll for everyone in Singapore, and the world.

“You accept it. You accept that you cannot have everything your way. And perhaps, that’s just what makes life worth living, perhaps, that’s its beauty. Everyone has a culture. Everyone has a tradition. It’s just not always clear.”

-         Final act, by Scott’s mother, in David’s award-winning play, “Piety.” David was 16 years when he received the award.   

BE YOURSELF!

In the Spirit of David Cornelius Singh

www.thinktosee.tumblr.com

Sources/References

1. Act III of “Piety.” Published as a compendium by the organizer, Theatreworks in 2014/2015. David’s family plans to re-publish as a stand-alone in due time, in furtherance of his creative works and legacy. 

2. https://www.nytimes.com/2020/03/30/world/asia/singapores-gay-sex-court.html

3. https://sso.agc.gov.sg/Act/PC1871?ProvIds=pr377A-

4. https://www.livelaw.in/pdf_upload/pdf_upload-371997.pdf

5. https://www.supremecourt.gov.sg/news/case-summaries/ong-ming-johnson-v-attorney-general-and-other-matters-2020-sghc-63

6. https://plato.stanford.edu/entries/locke-political/

7.  https://www.livelaw.in/pdf_upload/pdf_upload-371997.pdf  -  221-223, p73-74

8.  Ibid. 226-228, p74

9. https://www.ohchr.org/en/professionalinterest/pages/ccpr.aspx  - came into force in 1976

10. https://www.livelaw.in/pdf_upload/pdf_upload-371997.pdf  - 229-236, p76-78

11. https://globalfreedomofexpression.columbia.edu/cases/navtej-singh-johar-v-union-india/

12. https://www.livelaw.in/pdf_upload/pdf_upload-371997.pdf  - 262, p87

13. Ibid. 287, p94-95

14. https://www.doj.gov.hk/eng/public/basiclaw/basic15_2.pdf

15. https://literarydevices.net/john-donne/

16. http://www.yourdailypoem.com/listpoem.jsp?poem_id=2118

17. https://www.nobelprize.org/prizes/literature/1954/summary/

[hurricane-jenn]

Bullet Proof- Chapter 3

Hey guys, I’m so so sorry it has taken me this long to post the new chapter.  A lot has been going on in my personal life, mostly really good things, but it as kept me super busy. Again thanks to @jordan202​ for being my beta and for being the best!

Chapter 1 2

It had been two days and despite Henry, Amelia, and Stephanie working round the clock they had still not found an ID for their Jane Doe. Amelia had determined that the woman had drowned but was then pulled out of the water within a few hours of her death. There had been no evidence of foul play, and Amelia and her team were starting to think it was not murder at all. A drowning with no evidence of foul play would usually be deemed a suicide pretty quickly. What was holding the medical examiner and the SPD detectives back was the fact that someone had pulled her out of the water. Why would someone pull her out only to dump her by the docks? Also generally if someone commits suicide by drowning they jump from a bridge or something else of that height, but there were none near the crime scene, and the waters on the day of the death were too calm for her body to have traveled that distance.

Usually at this point in the investigation Amelia and her team stepped back. They had run all the tests and leaned all they could from the body. It was now up to the detectives to learn the rest of the story. However this time Amelia could not let go. She was invested in this case and needed to see it through. This was not something that went unnoticed by her team.

“Sheps, why are you running those prints again?” Henry asked. “I’ve already checked every database we have access to, she’s not in there.”

“There has to be some record of this woman somewhere,” Amelia sighed. 

“This is the United States of America, almost everyone has been finger printed at some point in their life.”

“You’re right about that. You Yankees are crazy,” Henry joked. “Why are you so involved with this case? Does it have to do with a certain red headed detective who keeps calling with updates?”

Despite Amelia having given her report to the detectives, Owen was insistent on keeping her in the loop on the case. Calling daily he filled her in, and often they would bounce ideas off of each other. They were both becoming obviously frustrated with the lack of progress on the case, but the phone calls provided a nice distraction for the two.

“No!” Amelia exclaimed. Realizing how defensive she sounded she attempted to cover. “Something about this case just does not sit right with me. The detectives have run her face through every facial recognition program they have, no hits on there either.”

“It’s almost like she’s a ghost,” Henry concluded.

“Exactly! How is that even possible? It’s like she doesn’t want to be found.”

“I was thinking the same thing,” said a voice from behind Amelia. She spun around to find Owen Hunt standing by the door to her lab.

Amelia’s face flushed. I hope he hasn’t been standing there long!

“Detective Hunt,” she greeted. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Well I was thinking about what you said on the phone last night,” Owen began, causing Henry to raise his eyebrows at Amelia.

“Yeah?” she blushed.

“Well you said how weird it is that there no records of this woman, that got me thinking that maybe someone got rid of them for a reason,” Owen explained. “The only reason I could think of for someone to erase the record of someone is…”

“She’s in witness protection!” Amelia exclaimed, finishing his thought for him.

“Exactly!” Owen smiled, he loved how in sync they were. “Anyways I called down to the Department of Justice and asked about our girl. Those DOJ agents were pretty cagey, but I got them to agree to a meeting. I was thinking, since you have pretty much run every test you can, that maybe you would want to come with me. Do you?”

“Oh Owen I’d love to but unfortunately I’m just on my way out to lunch.” As if on cue the door to the lab opened and in walked a tall, handsome, dark haired man.

“Hey Amy! Ready to go?” he asked. He crossed the lab, wrapped his arm around her and gave her a kiss on the head.

“Hey, yep one sec let me grab my coat.” She glanced at Owen trying to read his expression. He looked hurt. Was he really that upset she couldn’t come with him? Crossing the lab to her office, she left the two men alone.

Owen looked the man up and down. He and Amelia seemed very familiar, this must be the man she’s seeing. Who else would she be having lunch with in the middle of the day.

Extending his hand towards the man he said, “Hi, I’m Owen. I work with Amelia.”

“Hi Owen, nice to meet one of Amy’s colleagues,” the dark haired man replied. “I’m Derek, I’m a medical examiner too.”

“Nice to meet you,” Owen replied. Of course she would be dating another doctor. How could he think someone from her family would be interested in a cop. Admitting defeat he turned towards the door. “Tell Amelia I’ll let her know if this lead pans out.” Derek nodded and Owen exited the lab.

Returning with her jacket Amelia was confused to see Owen had left.

“Your colleague said to tell you he would let you know if this lead pans out,” her brother explained.

“Derek!” Amelia exclaimed. “What did you say to scare him off?”

“Nothing!” Derek defended. “I just introduced myself to him. Why? Do you like him?”

Amelia’s face flushed. She didn’t know how to respond. Did she like him? She wasn’t sure. All she knew was that every time he walked into a room something came over her. She just wanted to spend more time with him, learn everything about him. But he wasn’t available, or so she thought. She had been so sure that he was dating Detective Altman, but every time he stopped by her lab or brought her lunch she started to doubt it more.

“You do like him don’t you,” Derek concluded. “Amy, you moved here for a fresh start not to make the same mistakes you always do. You’re a Shepherd, and that name comes with certain responsibilities, we have a legacy to uphold.”

“Oh Derek shut it with the Shepherd legacy crap,” she seethed. “I get enough of that from Nancy and Kathleen, you’re supposed to be the one on my side. Come one let’s just go to lunch.” And with that they left the lab.

Owen had just gotten out of a very long meeting with the DOJ. Despite being from another law enforcement agency, they stonewalled him the entire time refusing to confirm that the SPDs Jane Doe was one of theirs. The whole thing was a huge waste of his time. It was probably best that Amelia hadn’t come, though it would have been better with her there. It was almost five by the time he was done. He couldn’t be bothered to drag himself back to the office, so he just decided to head home. He felt exhausted and defeated. He was dreading going home and throwing together something to eat, since he doubted Teddy had gone shopping like she promised, so he decided to stop by his favourite restaurant, Gio’s, for takeout. It was a cute little Italian place that usually didn’t do takeout, but Owen had helped the owner out a few years back when they got robbed and now they always keep him well fed. The place was pretty full that night, filled with couples out on date night. He loved how romantic the place was, but he never felt comfortable enough to dine in. He wanted to bring a special woman there, but it just never felt right with the women he’d been with over the past few years. One day he’d find the right one.

As he walked in he was greeted by the owner, “Detective Hunt, welcome back. Are you getting the usual?”

“Yes please Nick,” Owen replied. “We better make that two actually.”

“Ah yes, picking something up for the lady of the house as well?” Nick asked.

“She won’t be home till late tonight, but I’ll leave it in the fridge for her.”

“You’re a good man Owen,” Nick replied. “She’s lucky to have you.” With that Nick went to get Owen’s food and Owen took a seat in one of the chairs near the door. He glanced around at all the couples holding hands, talking so closely, so happy and in love. He wished that he could be one of them someday. Across the restaurant he caught sight of a familiar face. It took a moment for him to figure out who it was, but then it came to him, Derek. The man Amelia was seeing. Oh god Amelia was here. Owen could see Derek holding the hand of his date staring at her lovingly, laughing at something she said. It wasn’t until Owen’s eyes properly focused to the lights that he realized the woman was blonde. It couldn’t possibly be Amelia. Owen was furious, the woman he wished he could bring to a place like this was dating a two timing jerk who brought another woman to a romantic restaurant. Angrily he rose from his seat and crossed the restaurant. Not wanting to make a scene in his friend’s restaurant he tried to get his anger in check. As he approached Derek’s table he saw the man look up, a glimmer of recognition coming across his face.

“Derek,” he grunted.

“Owen nice to see you again,” Derek said smiling at the man. “I see my sister hasn’t kept you too busy with work.”

“Sister?” Owen stammered obviously confused by Derek’s comment.

“Amy, well Amelia as she insists I call her now. My sister.”

Suddenly all the pieces clicked together for Owen. He remembered the conversation he and Teddy had the other week. She had to him that Amelia’s whole family was famous in the forensics world. She has mentioned a brother that was the chief medical examiner; Owen was now sure Teddy had said his name was Derek. He was her brother, not a man she was dating.

“It was nice seeing you Owen,” Derek continued. “But as you can see my wife and I are enjoying dinner. It’s so rare we have a night without the kids.”

“Oh right, sorry to interrupt,” Owen stammered, looking down at the blonde with Derek. His wife, wow how could he have gotten this so wrong. Thank god he didn’t come over here guns blazing. “Have a nice night.”

Owen walked back to the entrance feeling like an idiot. Nick was waiting with his food, and he bid his friend goodbye and left the restaurant.

It was a little after seven and Henry was the only one left in the lab. He was still trying to find and ID for their Jane Doe, to no avail.

He looked up as he heard the door open, smiling as he saw Detective Altman enter.

“Detective, to what do I owe the pleasure at this hour?” he asked winking at her.

“Sorry to interrupt your work Henry, but I was wondering if Doctor Shepherd was here.”

“I think she’s watching her brother’s kids tonight,” Henry replied. “Can I help you with something?”

“I was hoping she knew where my partner was,” Teddy replied. “He told me he was coming by to update her around lunch time, but I have not heard him since. His phone keeps going to voicemail, and he’s not at home either.”

“Oh I’m sorry,” Henry said sympathetically. “You must be worried, not knowing where you boyfriend is.”

“Oh Owen isn’t my boyfriend,” Teddy said surprised by Henry’s comment. “We are just partners, and roommates. I mean he’s one of my closest friends, so yes I’m worried about him, but nothing like that.”

“Ah I see,” Henry replied. “Well I’m sorry I can’t help you. He did come in around lunch but he didn’t stay long. I haven’t seen him since then.”

“I’m sure I’m overreacting. I’m sure his phone is just dead,” Teddy tried to reassure herself. “Tell me something to take my mind off of it. Oh hey, how did your proposal go?”

Knowing this would be a long awkward conversation Henry kicked a rolling stool towards Teddy and grabbed a seat himself as well. “Not too great,” he sighed. “She said no.”

“Oh Henry, I am so sorry,” Teddy said reaching for his hand. “She’s a fool to turn you down.”

Henry smiled and then looked down at her hand on his. Teddy looked down as well; she hadn’t even noticed she did that. Embarrassed she pulled her hand back and smiled sheepishly at him.

“It’s okay, I was proposing for all the wrong reasons,” at her confused expression Henry elaborated. “Don’t get me wrong I liked her, but what I liked more was her citizenship.”

“What?” Teddy asked confused buy his explanation.

“I’m Canadian, and my visa is about to expire,” Henry explained. “I needed to get married to stay here.”

“So you proposed just to stay here?” Teddy questioned, not sure what to think of that.

“I know that makes me sound like a terrible person, but-“

“No I get it.” Teddy cut him off. “You did what you thought you had to.”

“Yeah but in the end it did not work,” Henry sighed.

“So what’s the next step?” Teddy asked. “You must have a plan for how to stay.”

“I honestly don’t know,” Henry replied. “I can’t think of another way to stay, but I can’t imagine leaving either. My whole life is here, I can’t go back and start over.”

“Yeah I understand that. When they wanted to send me back to Iraq I felt similar. I’d done my time and I loved it in a way. But I came home safe, and built a new life for myself, and I couldn’t imagine going back.” Suddenly becoming uncomfortable with how real the conversation was getting she stood up. “Well I better get going, I still need to find out what the heck my partner has gotten himself into.”

“Goodnight Detective Altman,” Henry said.

She smiled at him, “Henry how many times do I have to tell you to call me Teddy.”

“Good night Teddy,” he winked at her.

“Good night Henry,” she smiled at him.

Amelia was just tucking her niece into bed, after what was probably her fifth bed time story. She had gotten Bailey down no problem over and hour ago, but Zola refused to go to sleep. Amelia was such a sucker for her niece; those puppy dog eyes could always talk her into one more story. After she was sure Zola was asleep she went downstairs and started tidying up. She heard a key turn in the lock, and she looked up to greet her brother and his wife.

“Hey Amy, how were they tonight?” Derek asked.

“Angels as always,” Amelia said sarcastically. “How was dinner?”

“It was great. Actually we ran into your friend, the detective. He came over to our table. He seemed pretty surprised I was your brother. I think he thought I was your boyfriend or something.”

“What that’s impossible,” Amelia laughed. “Why would he think that?” It might explain why he acted so weird when Derek showed up, and why he left before she came back.

Saying good night to her brother, Amelia grabbed her bag and headed to her car. As she was getting in she heard the ding of her cellphone. Pulling it out she saw a text from Owen: Break in the case. Meet me at my place to discuss, followed by an address. It was very odd to Amelia, what could be so important that he needed her to come over this late at night, and why to his place and not to his office. It seemed odd to her, but she found that she wanted to see him, and didn’t really care about why he’d texted.

Arriving at the address Owen texted her, Amelia was surprised to see the door open. For a cop he seems to not be concerned about security. She gave a light knock on the door as she pushed it open. Stepping into the apartment she noticed that not a single light was on. Warning bells went off in Amelia’s head. Something didn’t seem right here. Out of the blue Owen invites her over to his place, and now he seems not to be home. Something was definitely wrong here.

She stepped further into his apartment glancing around for any sign of him.  Suddenly someone grabbed her from behind. She tried to scream but a hand covered her mouth. She thrashed against her assailant trying to get free. She felt a prick in her arm and suddenly everything went black.

[boxerqueen]

To Be Human?

[2019/02/10]

What does it mean to be human? What does it mean to be strong? Whatever emotions my journey makes me feel, I will accept everything and do everything with my heart and soul. This is what keeps me alive.

I used to live in a terribly abusive household. The circumstances I used to live under were strictly because of extremely old-fashioned tradition. I was raised to be a man, despite being a girl, because I was the only one who could uphold our family legacy, and carry the disciplines we practiced.

I was raised to shut off my emotions, and taught that they were what made me weak. I was punished terribly and inhumanely for crying. I was not allowed to feel.

I became absorbed in training and physical activity, because they were the only things that helped me feel anything. To test my abilities and push myself beyond what I was capable of helped me feel alive. But it only served to dig me into a deeper hole. I built even more walls around my heart, even more walls around my emotions. Soon enough, these walls became so strong, not even I could break through them.

I forgot how to live as a human. It became so difficult to process emotion. I trained so diligently and voraciously that I stopped seeing myself as a person with hopes and dreams, fears and vices. I only saw myself as a tool, with only one goal: To become stronger. As long as I could breathe, I could work. And through work, I will become stronger. I must, because if I don’t have even that, what is my life?

People would be so kind to me and do very nice things for me, but I wouldn’t know how to react at all. I was chosen by a friend to hold a very important title that showed my importance in their life, and I wanted so desperately to show them how honoured I was. I felt so much happiness and joy! So much gratefulness. Unfortunately, I was unable to properly emote and show them how I felt. I felt..empty. I felt like I was completely full, but there was something inside me that would keep me from ever being able to let it out. It was so, so painful. Just being able to feel emotions and share those emotions with others is an incredible, amazing gift. Emotions are what make life worth living.

My goal is to become stronger, it always has been that. But why do I train so hard? I do so because ever since my birth, I’ve been reminded and told constantly of how useless and weak of a person I am. I was bullied and beaten many times by the world around me, and as a result of that treatment, I cursed myself. I blamed myself and asserted the rule that I am responsible for everything that ever happens to me in my life.

So I train hard, and work hard. My disciplines shut off my emotions, but they created a work ethic and determination as hard as diamond. You could say it was too hard. I trained and trained, taking up Boxing, because it was a style that I saw as completely and utterly ruthless. I saw it as the only all-offensive art that pits two individuals against each other, and tests them to see who outlasts the other. It pushes people to their absolute limits, and tests them to see how far they can extend those limits past their capabilities. I gave it my everything. I practiced it not to become physically strong, but to maybe learn and understand what being strong truly means.

At 17 years of age, about three years ago, I met a man who was unbelievably kind. I discovered that he was a cancer survivor, and that he was a professional public speaker. He advocated for youth who were struggling with cancer. He gave unbelievably skilled speeches that were always able to touch my heart. I contacted him, and asked for a meeting.

We met in a cafe, and I told him my story. I said, “I want to be just like you, and do the things that you do!” I asked him with all of my heart, stars in my eyes, to be my mentor, to teach me how I could speak with the same energy as he did. I wanted to be someone who could empower and support other people. I felt that, if I could help other people find strength themselves, I might be able to learn what it means as well. I wanted to become a speaker like him, and do what he did for me: Help others feel through the power of words. He smiled at me as I finished telling him my story, and told me that through the words I’ve already spoken to him, he could see the promise and skill in my voice that would make a fine speaker.

Months flew by, and the seasons changed as we regularly met up in cafes to conduct workshops, and he taught me the principles of public speaking. How to properly project your voice, the tones we can use to convey certain emotions, how to use body language to get your messages across, and the ways we can structure our speeches to give promising introductions, and heartfelt conclusions. He would always test me, and when he saw in my face that I was ready, he would call a waitress over, and have her listen to me speak. It always caught me off guard, but it was through this practice that I became accustomed to impromptu speaking. I was even able to read his own body language, so I would know when he would call over a staff member.

Body language was the hardest principle for me to grasp, but it was thanks to American Sign Language, and the friends I made in the deaf community that I learned the art and magic of communicating without words, and instead, with everything else.

Two years passed, and I had the honour and privilege in working and speaking with numerous groups and organizations. I would join the lessons my mentor would give to his other students, and he would call me up to deliver speeches of my own for critique. When he announced that he would be leaving the country to teach abroad, he told me he would be passing down the workshop. He asked if I would be able to lead it moving forward. I had no words, but I was able to scramble and find the four most important ones I had to say by the time he left: “Thank you, for everything”.

I’m in the middle of my second year of working as a public speaking instructor, and I have had the pleasure of working with so many amazing individuals, and teaching so many students who continue to inspire me everyday. The team I work on, everything we ever do is for the students, to help them grow and learn to the best the school can offer. The two individuals I am currently mentoring to carry on the workshop are two of my best students, and I am so happy I have the pleasure of meeting with them and teaching with them every single week.

As the years flew by, I always had the goal to be stronger. But what is all that strength for? As I learned public speaking, I found the truth within my students, and the power of humanity. Public speaking helped me re-learn how to feel. As I gave numerous speeches about varying topics and stories, I learned that the power and magic of people is in the stories we tell. I learned how to reclaim the emotions I lost by delivering and hearing speeches of happiness, fear, sadness, and everything in between. By teaching others, I had the pleasure of listening to their stories, and feeling their emotions as well.

Public speaking is amazing because it brings forth the reason why humans are such brilliant creatures. Words are beautiful because they alone can make us cry. They can bring forth such amazing emotions and feelings. But when you weave those words together, by drawing from deep inside your heart’s inkwell of memories with the quill of your voice, they create so much more. A peek into other lives, into worlds you have yet to know.

It is through everyone I have met, everyone I have listened to, all their stories, and the stage that those stories are shared, that I have learned, once again, how to feel; How to be human. 

It is a lesson I will never forget.

Thank you, for everything. Thank you, for piecing me back together.