#exception to this is 5b where they really did break up

[izzythehutt]

Jesse and Walt will have a super intense, I-never-want-to-see-you-again breakup fight with an extremely definitive conclusion, and then the next day one of them will show up at the other's house as if nothing happened and neither ever mentions it again OR the one that drew the line in the sand will bitch to a mutual (probably Saul) about how the person they said they never wanted to see again/they told they hope dies hasn't called or shown up for a cook.

Every. Single. Time.

[casspurrjoybell-20]

Blueberry Muffins - Chapter 5b

*Warning Adult Content*

It’s Complicated - Part 3 

They finished their lunch, then decide to sit around and talk a bit, before joining the water sports.

"So you haven't found your mate yet, Mark?" Erin asked the other Alpha, his hand drawing circles into Wren’s stomach as he holds him close.

Mark shakes his head, leaning back on his hands. 

"No, not yet. I'm hoping to find them soon though. I won't feel complete without a mate, not as an Alpha at least."

"I know what you mean. If Wren hadn't come into my life I don't know where I would be right now," Erin hums, leaning down to kiss his boyfriend’s head of silky soft blue/black hair.

Wren smiles shyly, glancing up at him. Somewhere deep down the young man feels somewhat frustrated. Erin could say some of the sweetest things but the next moment he would say something that brought Wren’s whole world crashing down. Wasn't he just saying a few moments ago that their relationship was complicated? Was complicated a good thing to him? It wasn't to Wren. 

"Oh stop being dramatic. I didn't even do anything."

"That's what you think. But you saved me, Wren," he whispered, his face suddenly very serious.

Wren looks at him, seeing how sincere he was being. 

‘Did I save him? Was this why he could say so confidently that he loved me? Because I was his everything? I really did want to do so much for him. I wanted to be his supporter, his lover, his whole world.’ 

Yet again, a voice inside Wren’s head wants to scream in frustration. 

‘This man held too much power over me.’ 

Wren felt like he could get whiplash with how quickly his own emotions changed around him. It was honestly scary sometimes.

"You two are honestly so cute. I feel so jealous sometimes and I have a fated-bond," Aurora piped up, sighing wistfully.

"Hey, I can be cute too," Ryder protested.

She hums, patting his  freckled cheek.

"Sure, sweetie."

"Wait what do you mean by that?" Mark asked curiously.

Joshua’s head whips around, seeming somewhat interested in the conversation, to actually listen in. He has been so distant throughout the picnic lunch, thus far. Wren figured that's just how he usually is. At least, that's what Wren had seen from Joshua, so far. The visiting Beta just didn't seem like much of a talker. Instead of Erin answering Mark’s question, Ryder says...

"Erin's true fated-mate died before they could meet. He and Wren have been dating for a year now because Erin wants to bond with him rather than wait for a possible Second Chance."

When it came to mating, werewolves had a first pairing, the one that was destined for you. Sometimes, a mate-bond was severed for various reasons. Usually, if the wolf was already fully mated to the other wolf and the one left would eventually die from going insane. When a wolf looses it’s mate it was like cutting off a limb. Watching a wolf go mad from separation was the saddest thing they would ever see. It always tore at their hearts but 

In Erin's case, though, he'd never felt the full extent of the bond with his fated-mate. He felt the bond break but he hadn't mated yet, so he didn’t feel the excruciating pain, madness and then death. Hurt of course but he now had three options, he could find another mate and take them outside of a mated bond. He could wait for a second-chance mate or remain mate-less. The mate-less option wouldn't work for Erin, although, as an Alpha, he was expected to produce an heir. The second-chance mate was very rare. Their first pairing was compelled by fate. They were always destined to meet their mate one way or another but a second-chance mate didn't exactly work like that. It was less likely to meet your second-mate. 

Of course, there were exceptions. They had heard of multiple primary mates before. It wasn't common but it happened. And sometimes they didn't get to meet their mate due to forces they couldn't control, like Erin's fated-mate's death. And then there were the times that a wolf purposefully rejected their mate. It was viewed as a disgraceful act. Rejection could easily lead to death just like separation. That wasn't to say that it always meant death. Since the mate-bond was never fully completed, the wolves still had a chance to survive. 

Rejection just hurts a whole lot more than separation. That's what Wren feared he would do to his mate. He didn't want to torture them and not even realize it. Mark's face brightened with some sort of silent revelation. 

"Ah. But what about your mate, Wren?" he asked as he gave Wren a pointed look.

Wren shifted around uncomfortably, trying to figure out how to answer him. How was he supposed to tell some stranger that his senses are broken? That he couldn't sense his mate? It seemed like a stupid excuse or something, like a made-up story. But it wasn't. It was Wren’s painful reality that he was reminded of every day. Thankfully, Erin answered for him.

"Wren can't sense his mate. It's hard to explain and it's not my story to tell but it's true. He barely feels the pack bond."

"You can't... sense your mate? You can't smell them?" Joshua suddenly asked.

Wren shakes his head slowly. 

"No, I can't. My wolf can't smell at all. That’s why bonds aren’t strong for me, unless I fully make them, like if I were to completely bond-mate with someone."

Joshua and Mark went deadly silent. Wren was sure it must be an odd thing to hear. A wolf's ability to smell made up so much of their culture and survival as a species. It was everything. Wren was sure Joshua and Mark pitied him. Not being able to sense one’s own mate wasn't a reality anyone wanted to go through, yet Wren had to face it every day. He was lucky enough to have Erin, though. It was one of the reasons why they are so affectionate. They are both in a situation where their only comfort was each other. They didn't want to see their relationship end because that meant they'd be alone again.

“But it's fine, really," Wren explains, trying to lighten the mood. 

"I have Erin and Erin has me. And I just hope my mate never senses me. I don't want to hurt them."

The entire group had turned silent now. After what seemed like a life time, they slowly began to chat a bit, the sound of Ryder and Aurora’s bickering creating a nice background noise for Wren. As he rested against Erin he felt like he needed to just think. Was he really at the point where he wished his fated-mate never came? He'd always feared he could never sense his mate but it didn't work like that the other way around. They'd be able to smell Wren and then they'd be... heartbroken. That's assuming they never talk to Wren about the bond because they might assume he could smell them too. It was a valid assumption of course, so that meant they'd be even more hurt that ever. Wren didn't want or wish that, not for his fated-mate, not for anyone.

“I know what you're thinking and you should stop. If your fated-mate ever comes, we'll deal with it, Okay?" Erin whispers, pulling his boyfriend in closer.

Wren tilts his head to look at him, giving him a small nod. Erin is so understanding, so caring. Even when Wren is thinking of his fated-mate, even when his boyfriend doubts their relationship, he still tries to help. Wren loves him so much and he wants to stay by Erin’ side forever. But what if his fated-mate did come? And what if they talked to Wren about it? What would happen then? Would Wren have to reject them? Or would he have leave Erin? The tiny omega wasn't sure but he did know one thing. He didn't want to break Erin's heart. Not Ever.

[stagefoureddiediaz]

Okay so Promo costume meta time - this might be mostly incoherent ramblings because I’m still recovering - is recovery even possible at this point?? Some of this is copied from answers to asks i’ve given in the past day - its easier than rewriting the same thing out twice and I’m all about saving myself some time!

easy stuff first and under the cut!

Angela being in Orange in the sit down - these are usually a costume - so we’re continuing to see Athena in orange this season - since the black out and Harry storyline and the healing after - we’ve seen her in Orange a couple of times - Orange is a happy colour and it also denotes emotional strength so yay for Athena being in a good place! its symbolic of where she’s at in her relationship with Bobby as its around him when she’s worn it before - the casino - when they were having fun and being all in love!!

Maddie - I have a whole post on Maddie so I’m not going to go into massive detail here - I should have it out tomorrow - needless to say the promo stuff is interesting - all the casual baggy clothing - she’s seeking comfort and to hide her self a bit - its about protection. The check waterfall coat - its a check print so whatever is happening while she’s wearing it is not going to be happy time!! ( my money is on that being when Chim finds her and she’s not happy about it!)

 The green striped outfit - I’m going to go out on a limb and say this is from a later episode in 5b - green is a colour of harmony and balance - its about health and feeling safe and secure - it is also about growth and prosperity. Its also fun that Chim is wearing green in the sam scene - but it is check printed so 👀 there might be a problem or bump in the road coming as part of or after we see that scene!

Eddie - all dark colours - we are in it people! also interesting that the two sobbing scenes - Eddie with the baseball bat and Maddie in the ocean - they are both wearing a muddy grey/green/brown so we’re definitely paralleling them and we’re seeing colours so often associated with depression and 

Anyway back to Eddie - The knee rip in his jeans is interesting because it’s not like Eddie at all - but it fits in with a little theme - s1 Buck wears torn/ distressed jeans to his awful therapy appointment (interestingly it’s the same knee that’s ripped) I know what you’re thinking - but that wasn’t a good therapy appointment etc.

But here’s the thing it’s not about the therapy appointment or what happened there - it’s about Bucks mindset - this is the first time Buck has experienced losing someone and he doesn’t know what to do about it - he’s lucky in that he confides in Bobby who pushes him toward therapy, and yes that didn’t exactly work out in this case (although Buck would claim it did and eventually got his actual therapy from talking to Devon’s sister) but it did set Buck on the course of being receptive to therapy going forward - as we see later on.

Now here’s where that ties to Eddie in the promo scene - Eddie has probably spent his life being told to suck it up, put it away and move on, that therapy is for weak people etc so that’s what he’s always done - repressed everything and dismissed therapy - except when he was forced to to keep his job - no wonder he didn’t ‘click’ with Frank. So that rip is like bucks rips - tears in his armour that is going to make him receptive to therapy and talking going forward - he’s reached the point where he knows he really does need help - that he’s let buck see those rips and his breakdown is testament to their relationship- only Buck is the one who Eddie will allow in this far - so buck will be the one to guide him to therapy and this time - because Eddie has the support he’s never had before - therapy is going to work.

The shirt is a whole other fun thing - the use of a similar but darker and more muddy shade to the Ana break up one is again intentional - Eddie thought that breaking up with Ana would stop his panic attacks - that he’d be magically cured by ending the thing he saw as causing them. Only what he actually did was open the defences a little - Ana is just the straw that broke the camels back - we’ve seen more stuff trickling out in 5A until Eddie leaves the 118 in 5x10 - again the jacket is a muddied shade of green - it’s a bit brighter because it’s a decision he’s made (it’s the tiny bit of relief at easing the burden a fraction) think is it’s widened those defences a bit more - now everything is coming out faster and with more force until we hit breakdown - when he’s in the muddiest coloured shirt we’ve seen him in.

Eddie’s shirts while muted and generally neutral in tone have always been clean colours (and by that I mean they are an obvious colour - cream, black, tan, grey, olive green etc) whereas this shirt is murky looking - it’s a brown/grey/green - it just looks depressed and confused. And that’s the point - his defences are more or less destroyed by this point - all the stuff he’s repressed up to now is flooding out and it’s a murky mess (that one Ana left him to deal with!!!) But, now its flooded out, it can be picked through and sorted and dealt with.

So that’s what those shirts are saying - they’re showing eddies decent to breaking point in an additional visual way that you as a viewer will subconsciously pick up on (unless like me you’re trained in costume and colour theory so it’s less sub conscious and more concious!) and it adds layers to the effectiveness of the storytelling

Buck

The Eddie sobbing scene - I’m pretty sure it’s a shirt - buck has gone shirt crazy in season 5 - which is all about buttoning up - protecting oneself or choosing to keep things hidden by behaving somewhat stiffly - the phrase in the dictionary has this definition - (of a person) not inclined to reveal thoughts or information; reserved or inhibited. 👀👀👀 In the screenshot I brightened it looked more yellow ochre/ orangey, but there is literally so little of it it’s hard to tell - being right at the edge of the screen means the colour gets distorted.

I do think there’s a pretty decent chance it’s the one from Olis bts photo (again terrible lighting helping me with the actual colour!!) and if so we’re looking at puce type colour - which is a dark reddish brown - kinda like dried blood!! If it is puce it’s a super super interesting choice - combining the colour meanings of brown and red together - red = passion, confidence, danger and energy - and Brown = stability, dependability, comfort, reliability, support and protection!

So by combining the two you get a colour that is showing how much Buck is going to be there for Eddie - how he’s intending to be his rock, fight for his corner, supporting him and comforting him, and do it all with a determined and earnest passion! (And I am so here for that!!)

He has a black tee under his shirt in the bts whereas it’s a white shirt in the Buck actually scenes and this is interesting if it plays out how many of us are thinking it might - if he’s wearing it and abandons Tay Kay to go to Eddie’s side - then it’s reflective of both his relationship with Tay Kay and Eddie. The black tee showing us his relationship is not a good one - it’s soulless and dark - not in a good place.

If you think about where his relationship is likely to be with Eddie at this point as well - we know Buck isn’t initially going to understand why Eddie would leave the 118 - Oliver told us so. So if that relationship is still distant and a bit strained - again not necessarily in the best place at that moment and again born out of a lack of true understanding of the other person but we know that this will change for Buck - him seeing Eddie at his worst and lowest point will clue him into why Eddie left and he can step up and in with Eddie.

That’s why it’s important the Eddie scene would come second if it plays out this way and we get Buck leaving Tay to be there for Eddie- because although the costume is important for the first scene - it’s true meaning lies in the second. And that’s where the over shirt comes into play - a puce colour - dried blood which in and of itself is an interesting colour choice for that scene - having Eddie break down in-front of buck wearing the colour of dried blood when Eddie is potentially reliving the shooting - it becomes even more interesting if Buck is indeed wearing a white shirt with dark pinstripes in the scene where Maddie enters his apartment because then we are very definitely in 4x13/14 parallel territory - particularly if we reflect on Bucks thought process towards Taylor at that time - when he didn’t trust her not to put her job first, when he thought she was there to try and get the story - all things that we continue to see from her!!!!!!!!! 

Sorry if this is a bit of a rambly mess - my brain is still trying to unscramble itself from the promo and all the possibilities and the knowledge that even though we might have a vague idea - we don’t truly know the extent of what they have in store for us!! as always my inbox is always open for questions!

tags: sorry if i forgot you - shout at me and I’ll add you!!

@loveyourownsmiilee @lovecolibri @adamsparirsh @prettyboyandthekid @fiona-fififi @kitkatpancakestack @ktinastrikesback @mandzuking17 @oneawkwardcookie @outrunningthedark @reallysmartladymariecurie @theladyyavilee​ @leothil​ 

[queerbuckleys]

Prompt: A phone call from Bobby to Eddie after Buck gets hurt in 5B.

"He's hurt pretty bad, Eddie. I think you should probably come down here. Don't bring Chris."

okay so i changed it a little bit but the sentiment is all the same hope that's okay, also i am like so bad at coming up with calls and ways things can happen on them so just uh roll with it mmkay? this turned into a monster? i hope you like it!

@buddiebingo square: love

"He's shaken up pretty bad, Eddie. You should come. Without Christopher." That's all he remembers from the call with Bobby after receiving the call from the nurses alerting him that Buck had been taken into the ER. His keys were in his hands already, about to go pick Christopher up from school. He looks at them for a second, considering if he can drive at this moment. He just scrubs his hand over his face, setting him in motion. He calls Carla from the car, apologizing profusely for interrupting her day off but she is happy to oblige, especially hearing the waver in his voice as he explains that it's Buck and he doesn't know what's wrong. She asks for text updates, and he agrees. But the rest of the drive is a blur. Hell, so is walking through the hospital, he's not even sure how he finds his way to the little curtained off corner of the ER.

That's when everything stills. His hand is still buried in the curtain where he pulled it back. And he found Buck sitting on the edge of the bed. Buck was sitting up. That was good. Buck looks up from where he had been previously studying his hands in his lap, he looks small, like he was 10 years younger, and broken in a way that Eddie had never really seen before, at least in awhile. He's moving again, lowering himself to his knees in front of his partner- former partner?. He really wasn't sure what they were now. What he did know was that Buck was hurt, and not just physically. There was something else. "It's so stupid. Fuck." Buck whispers without prompting, voice breaking, "Hey, whatever it is, I know it's not, okay?" Eddie says gently untangling Buck's hands from each other taking them in his. Eddie was perplexed but kept going, "What happened?" "My leg, it um, got caught on a rogue piece of rebar when I jumped in after a guy down at the docks." Eddie was confused, but it was enough. "He was running away, and he-" "Buck, stop. It's okay. I don't care. What matters is that you are here, sitting up, talking to me, with both legs. Got it?" Buck sucks his bottom lip between his teeth, and nods. "The only thing I care about is if it was deliberate." Buck's eyes snap up, Eddie doesn't say a single word more, because if he did it might come out too close to, I love you so please tell me you know you matter, but instead looks up at him, begging him to say it for himself. Buck finally shakes his head, a tear escaping. "Good." and he swallows the love again, "You are all good to go right? Because Chris is gonna be ecstatic." They spend the afternoon in silence, only talking with Chris, and communicating through silent looks, falling into their rhythm as if there wasn't a gaping hole of emptiness between them that had lasted a few weeks. Chris is quietly working on his homework in his room, the door mostly shut, when it breaks. "Buck, I'm sorry. It doesn't feel like enough, but I am." Eddie says leaning against the counter, "I'm sorry for leaving. For not talking to you. For-" For loving you. "Eddie, yeah it sucked, but I know you had to. I understand. I'm sorry, I never reached out, especially in the last few weeks. I have been so alone, and almost every voice in my head told me that's how it should be. Except for this one, that sounded suspiciously like you, but it was drowned out. So I am mostly just confused, but what I know for sure is that I am lonely." Buck replies from his spot next to him, the inches between them feeling like the Grand Canyon. "Tay-" Eddie barely gets the question out of his mouth before Buck says, "I broke up with her. Not sure if it was self destructive or for my own good, but I am leaning towards the latter." Buck's lips quirk into something resembling a small smile, "Eddie, look at me, please, never apologize for loving. Because being loved by you is one of the most incredible-" He's in Eddie's space now, holding his forearms like they might disappear . Had he said that outloud? "How did you-" Buck smiles, "The same way I know that you are enough, the same way I know that you are the most incredible dad, the same way I know that, the three of us, we are a family, because you have shown me everyday for the past 2 or 3 years and I've just been an idiot, and because I love you too." "I do, love you by the way," Eddie replies no longer wanting to flee, feeling each of the rubber bands snap, freeing him from their bounds. "Oh thank god," Buck laughs resting their foreheads together, and Eddie takes his chance to be the bold one and gently brings their lips together.

[scorbleeo]

Lucifer | TV Show Review

Season 06

Image Source: Google Images

Lucifer Morningstar has decided he's had enough of being the dutiful servant in Hell and decides to spend some time on Earth to better understand humanity. He settles in Los Angeles - the City of Angels.

Source: IMDb

After millennia of being forced to rule Hell and then blamed for centuries for humanity's sins, Lucifer Morningstar decided to move to Los Angeles on Earth in 2011 for a better life. There his life made a turn for the better, finding justice for the innocent and falling in love with Chloe Decker. At the end of the previous season, Lucifer seemed poised to succeed his father as the next God. Now in this final season, we will see where this new development leads Lucifer, his friends, and family as the series comes to a close.

Source: Wiki Fandom

A Good End to a Good TV Show

As much as I wished Lucifer could go on longer, I am also happy that it ended before giving the writers a chance to screw the show up. This series finale, it really was a good one. However, if one were to compare Lucifer Season 6 with its predecessors, obviously this was not the best season. However, as a series finale, this last season did good. I still have my own complains about it but I rarely come across a good series finale and Lucifer Season 6 happened to be one of the very little good ones out there.

I absolutely loved when we hear or see lines or scenes that were from previous seasons. There were many I didn't quite catch myself but since I was watching it with my sister who's a huge Lucifer fan, she caught them for me. For example, when Dan mentioned "bracelet brothers" to Lucifer or when Chloe reenacted her very first conversation with Lucifer by the same piano. Nostalgia can be a bitch sometimes but in Lucifer Season 6, it brought a wave of warm fuzzy feelings to me. Other than playing the nostalgia card, that last montage was also perfect. It's weird because it brought out so much longing emotions from me yet it helped me get closure with the TV show too. I can only say, that montage – what was being shown in it – and the music playing in the background, it was a great call for an ending.

Unfortunately, I have several complains about this season too. That entire shebang with Ella was obviously rushed and happened out of nowhere. It was so random, I actually suspected if this subplot was added in the very last minute. The execution was just...no good! Also, maybe I like my action scenes in supernatural shows but I've noticed Lucifer rarely has good "fight/battle" scenes. I am fine with that except...that was the final "battle", couldn't the writers have included...more to it? It was extremely underwhelming that I much rather preferred that botched battle between Lucifer and Michael back in Lucifer Season 5B. I am not saying I hated that scene between Lucifer and Michael, I'm just saying if you've seen that scene, you would know it's not actually a real battle scene. Which sadly means that, I preferred the comedy over the emotional final "battle" scene.

Although upsetting, I know there's nothing this review can do about my "grievances" so I shan't brood over them anymore. Instead, I will just remember what a great series finale this season was. That little scene between Dan and Charlotte was very, VERY much appreciated, thank you. And believe it or not, everything that happened in Lucifer Season 6 as an ultimate ending, it really made sense. To all TV show writers, this is how you rock a series finale.

P.S.: Just extremely curious and hella confused, why couldn't Lucifer take a break from Hell therapy during that period of time?

Rating: ★★★★☆

[saltisnacks]

Prompt #2 is below - Chris's only clear memories of Shannon before she died are Christmas and their time at the beach. Another idea of what caused his outburst.

Rated T+ for language. Major character injury. Disassociation. Angst. Hurt/Comfort. Get Chris and Eddie (and Buck!) into therapy in 5b, istg!

Buddie prompt #1

During a call Buck is accidentally sprayed by blood. He starts yelling for Eddie. The patient starts coding and Buck goes catatonic before collapsing.

Unbeknownst to the crew someone in the crowd recorded the entire incident and is making fun of Buck for "losing it."

May finds the video while on shift at dispatch. She sits Eddie down, and shows him after warning him it's bad.

Bobby unexpectedly breaks and unleashes on Eddie as soon as he walks through the bay doors.

He knows Eddie hasn't responded to any of Buck's texts or calls. That Eddie knows about Buck's abandonment issues and still did the same thing. He brings up how Eddie has refused to deal with his (and Buck's) traumas.

He mentions how Harry is in therapy. How Chris was in therapy after the tsunami. He mentions Maddie's PPD. Hen's therapy after the ambulance accident.

The shooting and well collapse were freak accidents that were beyond anyone's control.

"We know you faked your way through therapy with Frank after the shooting. He almost didn't let you come back! I had to talk Chief Alonzo into letting you. Maybe I shouldn't have!"

"We all saw you struggling. We thought you'd eventually talk to Buck about everything. You know, supposedly your best friend? Who had a front row seat to you being shot?! But you kept it in. And he didn't want to force you because he didn't want to, and I quote, "Make it about him and be exhausting!" Remember that?!"

"I told you to didn't have to lose everything before you allow yourself to feel something! Fat good that advice did. You still blame yourself for everything with Shannon. Don't say you don't. You think you failed your kid again. But who have you really failed the most? Yourself!"

"You don't blame Buck for the tsunami, so why are you blaming yourself for all of this?" You were a firefighter! You know people can be injured or die at any time. Shannon was hit by a car! Mudslides. Earthquakes. Stupid stunts. Car crashes."

"You were the final straw! You pulled Christopher and yourself away from Buck and he's been trying trying to understand why you left. At least Hen, Ravi, and I were trying to help him. Taylor tried before she washed her hands of it all and walked away, too! Hear that? She left him, too!"

"I didn't-I didn't know."

"And why is that, Eddie?! The person he needed most was you! He needed you! You! Buck would bend over backward and stand on his head for you or Chris. He'd give you his last heartbeat just to keep yours going! You let him flounder while you drowned instead of supporting each other. You think he wouldn't have been there for Chris after his outburst about you dying?"

"Did you know Chris called Buck? I'm surprised Carla hasn't snapped at you about it. He didn't want you to quit! He was in tears crying to Buck saying it was all his fault. That he misses Buck, and he caused all this. He blames himself because of what he said."

"That kid is old enough to understand death, and you should have talked to him about it. Instead, let me guess. You used Chris to escape. You both need help. All three of you do!"

"Sue called me. We talked. You're on paid leave starting today until you see a therapist and actually talk about everything. HIPPA safe limited information documented, signed off, proof. No exceptions. We can't have a compromised first responder. You have two weeks to find a solution before you're terminated. And while you're at it, maybe ask why you can't admit to yourself you're in love with Buck."

Hen barely catches Eddie after Bobby storms away.

---

"Where's Buck, Hen?"

"In the hospital."

"What?!"

"Everything... The memories after the blood hit him and you not being there. You weren't there to reassure him, Eddie. He couldn't see you. He couldn't find you. Everything... We thought maybe he was having a heart attack from another blood clot. He had all the symptoms, but he was just... Not there to talk to us. He went blank, Eddie. It was scary to see. So we thought maybe it was a panic attack with disassociation. But..."

"Hen."

"It was so bad, he slipped into arrhythmia. We thought we were going to have to shock him on the way to the hospital. They ran tests as soon as they could. His heart... Takotsubo syndrome."

"Bro-broken hearted syndrome?"

---

Eddie breaks down as soon as he sees Buck. "I'm a fool. I didn't listen to Bobby or Frank. I kept it all in again and ended up hurting everyone. Chris. You. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

---

Eddie doesn't expect Chris to starts struggling and flailing at him as soon as he gets home.

"Buck's heart broke! Because of us!"

"You know."

"They couldn't talk to you or Maddie so they called Carla! She gave them permission to make him sleep."

"I'm on Buck's emergency contact list ahead of Bobby in case he's on shift. You, Maddie, me, Bobby, Athena, then Hen are all on his paperwork in that order."

"I'm sorry, Chris. I need to fix this. I never meant for any of this to happen."

---

"I just missed mom. She died before another Christmas together."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't know how. Like after the tsunami. I'm scared you will, too. Not just from being a firefighter. Mom wasn't. My friend at school's dad died from cancer. Mrs. Phillips was out for a month because her husband died in a car wreck. You almost died after you were shot, but you didn't talk about it. You fell over at the store."

(conversation can blend from parts of prompt two about Chris's only real memories with Shannon are Christmas and the beach.)

Eddie talks to Chris about family and individual counseling. He finally talks to Chris about his will.

---

"I'm sorry, Eddie, I shouldn't have snapped like I did. On the other hand, I'm not."

"I know, Bobby. I needed the ass kick, and you delivered it. If you hadn't, Carla was about to if she saw Chris break down again. She chewed me out too last night. Chris is demanding to see Buck. If I... I miss it. Despite everything, I miss being out there."

"When the time comes, if you decide and get an official release, you're welcome to come back. For now, Sue says as long as you're getting therapy you can stay at dispatch."

"How? I quit."

"I've talked to Chief Alonzo. He understands. You will have to meet with him directly before returning to duty. Official orders straight from his mouth. Just to talk and make sure your head is on straight this time."

----------

Prompt #2

Chris tricks a classmate's mom into dropping him off at Buck's after a sleepover because he hasn't seen him since Eddie quit.

Buck tries to call Eddie, despite Chris begging him not to, but Eddie is asleep due to emotional and physical exhaustion from overthinking and stress.

His actions are starting to catch up with him in various ways. Chris's continued outbursts, now focused on his new job as a mechanic at a dealership.

"Career day is next week. You're dad's a firefighter. Do you think he can bring the big truck?"

"My dad quit. He's a mechanic now."

"Oh. My dad's cousin is a mechanic. He dropped out of doctor school. Dad calls him a loser." Chris remains silent and Eddie is crushed.

Missing Buck. Realizing why he misses Buck so much. Internalized phobia about being bi/demi/gay. Religious guilt. The thought of upsetting his family.

Compounding nightmares combining being shot, Shannon, Afghanistan, and/or being buried. Losing Chris or Buck. Overdue bills because the only job he could find for his experience came with a drastic cut in pay. His new insurance is limiting Chris's therapies. (True story - our insurance limited my child to 25 total therapy sessions a year, including both OT and speech under the cap. Any beyond that is out of pocket. Yea, I'm still mad about this.)

More panic attacks that are getting worse. Losing coverage to help pay Carla so her job reassigned her. His landlord trying to raise rent to help pay for future improvements to the properties. Helping a man having a heart attack while at the zoo with Chris using the yearly passes Buck bought.

"Heard you quit, Diaz. Move and let us still in the LAFD deal with it." Chris stormed off and refused to talk to Eddie for the rest of the day.

---

Buck and Chris talk about Chris being scared. The association with Christmas and his mom. How he really didn't want Eddie to quit. The risks of being a firefighter where Buck states the truth. The biggest risk is cancer from hazardous materials and smoke, but if they use their equipment correctly, the risk drops. He tells Chris he would try really hard to always make sure Eddie came home, but nothing is guaranteed.

"Without good doctors, Harry's dad could have died from something bad in his head. A tumor. Even eating food can be dangerous, Chris. See this scar? I choked on bread. A bite of baked dough. I almost died. Abby saved me and it gave me this tiny scar. Just like the doctors saving your dad's life led to his scars. Scars show that we survived. You've seen the scars on my leg. I almost died then to."

"I know you saw me throw up blood at Bobby and Athena's that night. I'm sorry you had to see that. It probably really scared you, and I should have talked to you about it. That's my mistake. Hen, Chim, Maddie, and your dad saved me."

"As long as there are good people, Good Samaritans from the Bible. I know you went to church, so you should know the story."

"He stopped and helped the man when no one else would."

"Yes, he did. As long as there are good Samaritans, many lives can be saved. Quick thinking and dialing 911 as soon as possible to get them in good hands and to the hospital to the doctors."

"Don't mistake me, if there aren't good people who can act and focus beyond their panic, sometimes it is too late. Like the bystanders who waited too long to call 911 last week when a man accidentally fell down a set of stairs."

"I know you don't want to hear it, but death, when it comes for us, is unavoidable. Old age. Massive heart attacks. My older brother, Daniel, died of leukemia. My parents had me for a stem cell transfusion(?), but it ultimately didn't work."

"You had a brother? "

"Yea, I did. Daniel Buckley. He died before I could remember him. The procedure didn't last, and he relapsed, or it was too late. I'm not sure really. Maddie has a picture. I kind of looked like him when I was younger."

"Dad told me you saved him. He doesn't remember a lot, but he knows you did. You were his good Samaritan."

"I drug your dad to safety and the others and Captain Mahta helped me get him to the hospital despite the sniper still firing at us. Good people under pressure."

"Your dad was one of those amazing good people who helped so many others. He helped me save a kid and his sister by figuring out the boy had the numbers backwards. Like a mirror. He said 318 instead of 81E. Your dad did that. He figured it out and we acted to save them."

"I didn't want him to quit! I was thinking about how mom was only here for one Christmas. That's all I remember. And the beach trip we took. That's it. And dad won't talk about her."

"Chris, holy... crud."

"What did she like? Did she like broccoli? Did she wear makeup like May? Do I have any uncles or aunts I don't know? What was her job? I don't know!"

"I don't know. Eddie, you idiot. You need... You need to talk to your dad about this."

The shooting. Ana. His dad yelling at someone over the phone about his insurance. How they may have to move because dad can't afford the rent anymore.

After listening to Buck's voicemail, Eddie goes to them and lets himself into the apartment. Chris is asleep upstairs after wearing himself out from crying. Buck drags Eddie out to the balcony and rips Eddie a new one.

"You thought you were doing right by Chris. What a good job you've done, Eddie! Is this even really about him, or is it something else? Talk to me! You're losing everything, Eddie! Carla! Chris's coverage! And now possibly your home! Why aren't you fighting harder, dammit?! What the fuck are you thinking?!"

"Did you even ask Chris what he wants or did you just fucking assume? Because he was only missing his mom. Like I told you. I told you it was Shannon! You didn't talk to him."

"He associates Christmas with her. That's the only Christmas he remembers with her. And it's not the tsunami keeping him from going to the beach. It's the memory of her! He doesn't remember much before with her than that because he was too young when she left! His only real memories of her! He associates Christmas and the beach with her death because that's all he has!" Eddie can only stare at Buck in shock.

"For fuck's sake, do you even keep her memory alive? My parents didn't for Daniel and it destroyed them and in turn Maddie and me. They wiped him away entirely. Do you talk about her to him at all? Because from what I can guess from what he asked me, the answer is no! So you tell me, what the fuck is going on?"

"I didn't know... How? Oh my God. It's my fault. It's all my fault. I didn't... Buck. I refuse to be like your parents. Oh my god, Buck!"

---

Eddie finally breaks and it all comes flooding out.

"He said I didn't have to lose everything before I let myself feel. Is that what I'm trying to do? Am I that fatalistic? All I hear in my head is "Suck it up, Edmundo. Men are supposed to be strong." Blah blah ad nauseam."

"In all honesty, your dad can go suck a bag of lemons so his face matches his heart. Shriveled and sour. That is so toxic. Dr. Copeland told me the same damn thing."

"She did?"

"We all have emotions for a reason. We aren't unfeeling robots. Early man went "Ugh!" but there's evidence of emotion. They're mentioned in the Bible, I think. If they were unnecessary, don't you think evolution would have wiped their purpose like the appendix by now? How many serial killers have been emotionless psychopaths?"

"What about the opposite? Why is that allowed? Why is a man allowed to be happy and celebrate if emotions are bad?"

"My dad didn't even smile at Sophia's birth. Or Christopher's. Or at Sophia graduating summa cum laude. I think his face is frozen in stone unless he's angry."

"Oh, so anger is allowed, but nothing else is? If I had my way, he'd never speak another word to Chris until he's reached maturity. Chris doesn't need to be poisoned, Eddie. Thinking like your dad is so fucking toxic, men with this belief should come with a warning sign."

"Where's mine?"

"Tossed in the shredder waiting for you to hit the power button. You just need to find your version of a cure. Or anti-venom, I guess. Cut off the head of the snake sunk into you and yank out the fangs. Just no street fighting again, please."

"Ha ha. I learned my lesson there."

---

"With your permission, I'd like to restart Chris's therapy. I'd need a signed document from you and your lawyer. He needs to break the happy memories he has with her away from her death. To learn how to separate it from Christmas and the beach."

"I... Okay. Yes. I'll get it tomorrow. Wait. My insurance probably won't-"

"Eddie, I've got it. I'll pay out of pocket if I have to. I have enough. I'm a single man with a fully paid vehicle and surprisingly cheap rent and utilities for LA. Trust me."

"Single? But you have Taylor?"

"Um... Not as of two weeks ago when she accepted an anchor position in Chicago."

"What?"

"She wanted me to move with her. I told her no. My family is here. I'm not leaving. Period. She threw a fit. It didn't... end well."

---

"Dr. Copeland says her business partner at their office has an opening and is willing to take you as a client. She can give her a brief rundown, with your permission, so she can prepare. I've...uh...talked about you... quite a bit. No judgement. Just listening and advice. Guidance to learning how to heal and be better. Please. And before you say anything, I'm helping pay if you need it. Don't argue."

"Okay."

---

"Missed you, Buck. I'm an idiot. I should have talked to you sooner. I'm sorry."

[esmealux]

Could you do 31 and 23 for the prompts?

I absolutely loved this prompt, thank you! <3

This got a lot longer (1.8K) and a lot angstier than I intended. But fret not, it's hurt/comfort at its core and it's Deckerstar stargazing. And also,

ANTI-SPOILER ALERT: This piece takes place after 5a/during 5b. I have not watched the trailer, nor will I. I therefore have no idea what is going to happen in 5b, or if what this fic suggests is remotely close to what is hinted at in the trailer—and I would like remain oblivious. *Looks at you with puppy eyes* So please don't mention anything from the trailer in the comments? It would mean a lot to me ❤ (And yes, I do realise I could've waited two days before posting this, but I wanted to give you guys a little something while you wait.)

Rated M, just to be safe.

Enjoy, my loves!

31. Lost in the middle of nowhere + 23. ‘Hey, at least the stars are beautiful tonight, right?’

He gets in his car, and he drives.

He has no destination in mind, nowhere but ‘away’. Away from Him. From feelings he can’t contain. From eons of neglect. From pain.

Far away.

He drives till there’s no more gas and ends up stranded where the streets have no name, in the moonlit desert.

The car shudders and comes to a halt. With ridiculously shaky hands, Lucifer brings a cigarette and a lighter to his lips, desperately needing the distraction. He flicks the lighter repeatedly, chaotically, but the fire won’t bite, and suddenly he’s hyperventilating, and both cig and lighter are sent flying through the brisk night air.

He roars into the dark void of the night. The thunderous sound resonating off the distant mountain walls startles him like an unexpected ghost. It sounds like him, but not like him. Not like Lucifer, Devil, fallen angel. It sounds like Samael, falling angel—screaming into the abyss as he plummets towards fire and brimstone, his fate and punishment, dealt by Dad.

Lucifer suddenly can’t get out of the car fast enough. He leans against the trunk, his chest heaving rapidly, his lungs fighting for air. He’d thought he was healing, that he was actually starting to put millennia of trauma behind him. And maybe he was. But then He waltzed down and ripped the wound right open.

Such a pestilent, tyrannous prick.

Lucifer needs a drink.

He finds a bottle of something strong and amber in the glove box and brings it back to the trunk. It’s only half-full, and he’d need at least five more bottles to just get tipsy, but it’ll have to do. He wasn’t looking to get shitfaced, anyway. He just wants to take his mind off things, to breathe. And right now, (now that his chance of having a smoke is lying somewhere in the sand) a couple of sips from a mildly exquisite whiskey and the ensuant burn in his throat are the best way to do that.

She finds him like that—because of course she finds him—sitting on the trunk of his car with the near-empty bottle in his hand and looking absolutely wrecked.

She’s tentative as she approaches him, afraid she’s not welcome, that he really did want to be alone. But as she gets close and he looks up at her, dark eyes glistening in the moonlight, she knows being alone is the last thing he needs.

Without a word, neither from her nor from him, she gets up on back of the car and scoots close to him, still keeping some air between them.

‘I thought you could use a friend,’ she says with a slight smile, exactly like she did all those years ago. Now, however, the last word isn’t an overwhelming, meaningful declaration, but a cosmic understatement, and Lucifer can’t help but snort.

Reaching over, Chloe grabs his hand and interlocks their fingers. ‘Also, I wasn’t gonna let my partner get lost in the middle of nowhere alone.’

‘I’m not lost,’ he objects, but his voice, hollow and lined with despair, betrays him. He may know the way back to LA, but he is definitely lost.

Sensing he doesn't want to talk about it, Chloe gestures towards the bottle still dangling from his fingers and asks for a sip. His lips tug up into the smallest of smirks as he hands over the bottle with a half-hearted ‘Be my guest’.

She leans her head back, eyes turning to the night sky as she takes a swig (just a nip; one of them still has to drive home at some point). It tastes like evening kisses. Occassionally, morning kisses too.

A cool breeze whirls around them, and Chloe snuggles closer to Lucifer. She does have a plaid in the car, and she will get it in a minute, but right now, she settles for stealing some body heat, hoping her seatmate doesn’t mind too much. She hands him back the bottle and snakes a hand under his layers, up his bare back. He sighs shakily, the taut muscles beneath Chloe’s hand loosening up. It tugs at something in her chest—the way he’s calmed by her touch alone.

Chloe looks up again, at the tiny, abundant jewels glimmering against the dark sky. ‘At least the stars are beautiful tonight, right?’

In the middle of downing the last drops of whiskey, Lucifer absent-mindedly replies with a ‘Hm?’

‘Stars,’ Chloe repeats. ‘They’re beautiful.’

Hesitantly, almost reluctantly, Lucifer lets his eyes glide up. He’s quiet as he takes it in, the black canopy adorned with white, pearlescent specks. His gaze is somewhat distant, reminiscent. Wistful.

‘Lucifer,’ she breathes, not as a vocative, but as an eureka. She’s said his name so many times before, screamed it, whispered it, cried it—with passion and pain and everything in between—but now is the first time she says it actually knowing what it means. Or at least she’s pretty sure she does.

‘It was you, wasn’t it?’ she asks him with a whisper, more in awe than accusatory, and the soft, melancholic smile he gives her is answer enough. ‘You let there be light.’ It’s not a question this time, just an overwhelming realisation spoken out loud.

‘Well, technically,’ Lucifer corrects, glancing over at her, ‘it was Dad who created Light.’ His gaze turns upwards again, eyes suddenly twinkling with pride. ‘The almighty wanker was just too lazy to hang it up there himself.’

Stunned, Chloe stares at the sky with new reverence. It’s breath-taking, both the sight itself—diamonds and sparkling dust sprinkled across a sea of nothing—and the fact that Lucifer made that. He literally hung the stars in the sky.

The fact that he hasn’t mentioned this before, that he hasn’t boasted about it, hasn’t proudly told everyone he’s the artist behind the original Starry Night also says something.

Peering up at him from where her head is now resting against his shoulder, Chloe sees a look on his face she can only describe as ‘homesick’.

‘They remind you of your dad’s love for you,’ she realises, voice quiet.

Lucifer scoffs, but there’s no humour in it. Just pain. ‘What love?’

Chloe doesn’t blame him for doubting. With all the light God (apparently) gave Lucifer, He gave him a thousand times more darkness. (And she is going to talk to Him about that. Later. When she’s hugged the living shit out of His son). But Chloe can tell He, despite everything, does love Lucifer—and that Lucifer is using this resentment towards Him to avoid facing the fact that he, still, loathes himself just as much. If not more.

The thought makes Chloe sick, and she suddenly feels the need to tell him, ‘You’re worthy, you know?’

He looks down at her. A wet streak on his cheek catches the silvery light of the moon. ‘I do?’ The insecurity in his voice is a sharp jab in her chest. But again, she doesn’t blame him.

‘You are,’ she states again for emphasis, holding his gaze. ‘You’re worthy of love, and light.’ With her free hand, the one that isn’t stroking the small of his back beneath his shirt and jacket, she cups his face and swipes her thumb across his stubble. ‘You deserve it. You deserve happiness, more than any other person in this world.’

He doesn’t say anything in return, but he doesn’t have to. The smile he gives her in return, warming and breaking her heart at the same time, speaks for itself. Just to get her point across, she leans up and kisses him. It’s teary and tender, and it’s a promise. To always love him—both the light and the dark, and all the colours in between.

They lean their foreheads against each other’s when they break apart, eyes still closed.

After a long, needed moment, Chloe lets her hand drop from Lucifer’s cheek to his thigh.

‘So,’ she breathes, the pall from their prior conversation vanishing into the night with her light, playful tone, ‘constellations?’

He chuckles beside her, the sound low and warm in her ear. ‘Not what you humans make them out to be.’

She fights the urge to roll her eyes at his ‘you humans’, and asks, intrigued, ‘No Big Dipper?’

‘No.’ He clicks his tongue. 'But there is a Big Pecker somewhere.’

She glares at him. ‘You drew a dick in the sky?’

His lips spread into a proud grin. ‘And a pair of boobs, if you have a little imagination.’ He points to a distant spot above them. ‘Those seven points there, the brighter ones—they form a symbol in my mother tongue. A message for my dear twin.’

‘Oh?’ Lucifer rarely ever speaks of, much less in the celestial language. It’s another part of his past Chloe hasn’t learned much about. But hopefully, over time, she will.

‘Yes, it means… how would you say?’ He thinks for a second—or pretends to—and eventually concludes, ‘Cunt, I believe, would be the appropriate translation.’

This time, Chloe doesn’t resist rolling her eyes—because nothing about that is ‘appropriate’. Maybe except for the fact that it was directed at Michael.

‘I know,’ he says, like he’s reading her mind. But he really isn’t, because he follows up with, ‘An insult to the temple of pleasure I value more than any other organ.’

Having met the guy, Chloe doesn’t disagree; Michael definitely lives up to more vile name-calling than ‘cunt’. (Also, she's pretty sure Lucifer is wrong about it being his favourite body part. She’s pretty sure the organ he values more than any other is his own Big Pecker, because she’s seen the way he looks at himself in the shower, and all the other places she finds him naked; the vain idiot is practically obsessed with his own meat. Not that she blames him.) But before she has the chance to tell him that, he says-

‘You have to forgive me. I was only a couple of thousand years old.’ There’s a glint in his eye, and Chloe can’t help but laugh, because it’s true what Linda said; he really is the oldest, most immature person in the world.

Chloe tells him as much.

He simply smirks in return. ‘I may be old, Detective, but I’m more vigorous in bed than any mortal man, old or young, and you know it.’

It only proves her point, about him being immature, and obsessed with his penis. But frankly, Chloe does know it, and for once, she feels like stroking his ego (among other things). So she grabs him by the hand, leads him into the car, onto plush leather, onto her, and as the stars twinkle and gleam above them, they put that vigour of his to good use.

[littledevil-jpeg]

Okay, so last post I was giving Lucifer 5B some credit for getting me interested and intrigued about a shitty character, so, as all things should be balanced, here comes the other side of the question. I'll say right off the bat that Lucifer was never a show I took seriously, all at once because of the tone, the way they chose to develop and delve into the themes, the monster-of-the-week format (though also done in spn, there it's redeemed by the darker tone and more subtle theme-development. Obviously, this is S1-S5 I'm talking about) and again the overall way this world works. I've been known to accuse Cobra Kai and even Breaking Bad for coincidence-bending, but they don't even come close to the level of Lucifer here. Then, of course, there's how easy everything is, like a bloody sled on ice: drugs - no problem, kill someone - no problem, infiltrate a mafia group - no fooking problem. How? Well, glaze over that, it's not that important. Except it is. Remember how in that same Breaking Bad Walter's team spent considerable chunks of the show planning, hiding evidence, preparing, measuring little details, diligently covering up their tracks. And they were only involved in a measly drug manufacturing business. Imagine the shit Lucifer runs, with crime bosses, drugs, demons and prostitutes piling out of his front door. Obviously it's a show about angels and demons, and the realism isn't the focus of the program, but still, these things matter. There's always a convenience to it. Like, oh, you need to infiltrate the Russian mafia or some shit? Don't worry, I know a guy - and poof, problem gone. That's not even to mention the universe bending out of shape all around Lucifer, everyone (Chloe especially) putting up with his humiliating bullshit, the fact that he would be kicked out the police in anything even remotely resembling real life, that the mc's get away with almost everything, the unrealistic dialogue that no human irl ever speaks, the second-hand embarrassment, the cheesy "morale" speeches, the dull, predictable cases that are all done by the same formula... and more. So okay, there's a lot, a lot, of problems with this show. Which is why no one really takes it that seriously, we all know it's kind of trashy. But "kind of trashy" is one thing. Now, when season 5 introduces a genuine "evil twin" that we're meant to take with even a bit of seriousness, in the footsteps of such chef d'oeuvres as Dispicable Me 3, when that twin is the most caricature-like villain in recent history, when the allmighty is a buffoon with half a brain, forget omniscient, and isn't even in-line with the stuff he's done before, when one of the main cast is offed as though mid-sentense, with no lead-up, no foreshadowing, no preamble, like a toss of a dice, when the main character is on a race to become God himself, and his love interested Mrs God, and when, oh, Jesus fucking Christ, just stop already! I truly wonder if the writer's room a big dart board with all these drunk-ass ideas stuck onto it, and they blind throw to make the next season. It's finally hitting me now, as I'm writing this, what on god's green earth I watched yesterday.

Why does Lucifer need to become God? Why does a war in Heaven even have to be introduced? Why not focus of the more intricate inter-personal conflicts on Earth, on the characters and their mentalities, on those meaningful arcs that hold actual importance, and emotion, and down-to-earth (lol), well, meaning again. Why do we need a heavenly war? Why does Lucifer need the approval of the angels, when the moral seems to be that he makes himself who he is, not his status, not his people, not his past and not the Silver City (an excellent moral, by the way, so credit where it's due. This self-actualisation business is the second best thing in the whole show)? I get that this is why the majority vote doesn't work, but then what does work? Are they ment to self-actualise into becoming God? Now, I'm aware it's left uncertain whether Luci really is God, so I won't go there for now, but then we have the issue of his resurrection. Was it a reward for self-sacrifice? That wouldn't fit so well, considering all the previous sacrifices that were much more impressive than this one. And what's the philosophy behind that - he's acting out of love? But to what end, if by dying he practically fucked all the other people on Earth, including the very same Chloe he just brough back down? Are these really the qualities for a God to have?

Or did he once again self-actualise, but this time he actualised himself to life? That would truly be a stake-killer. I saw a theory that he finally saw himself as worthy of Heaven, which doesn't quite link to coming back to life. Well, these are perhaps, once again, speculations, and maybe this will be cleared up next season. As for Lucifer's God status, it's a shitty move on the writers' part. Not only was the execution rushed, but thematically, again, Lucifer becoming God to feel worthy of Chloe is nonsense. From a plot and theme standpoint, why does this need to happen? This Godly status holds no meaning, no emotional worth, it's not fullfilling, not symbolic of anything fitting other than that same old "bad to good" and I guess the irony of the Devil becoming God, but the irony is an empty one if it has no real meaning. Which is the case. The whole thing is empty of substance, and I don't know why they went there. You know, it's hollow anyway, not least because Lucifer really doesn't deserve it. Even this season, he is nothing but a child - he acts and thinks like a child, he unchangeably does the same "projecting" bs from season to season to season with no actual sign of emotional maturity other than that in the words of other characters. But you can say he's different all you want, it's not gonna work if the subtle signs of his change aren't there. Say, imagine if Endeavor kept running his mouth about atonement, but kept dutifully abusing his kids - this is that. And yeah, Lucifer loves Chloe in his own way, cares about her, and even comes out of his self-absorbed little world for her, which by the way bugged me about their uneven relationship since season 1 (you know, treating her like shit with a flimsy excuse and then "making up" for it with a grand gesture of sacrifice or a round of angsty suffering. Time after time, every time.)

And finally, of course, there's the issue of how inconsiderate it is to Chloe for him to become God. I mean, it's dead obvious no relationship will be possible there, not without becoming even more unhealthy than it already seems. Themathic significance and meaning aside, even then, even in-universe, it's a shitty thing Lucifer does, again, for himself. So that he feels worthy of Chloe. What she feels, once he's made it his goal to do something, essentially doesn't matter anymore. And the plot fascilitates this splendidly, I mean, she always forgives him without fault like a well-oiled machine. Always, whatever he does, and it's gotten old a long time ago. We know Lucifer can do anything, anything at all, and he will be forgiven - by Chloe, by Maze, by Dan, by Linda, by Amenadiel, by anyone that he needs to forgive him. You'll be lucky if they don't do it the same episode, and extraordinarily lucky if it takes them three or four.

There are many other things to discuss this season, like Dan's ridiculously badly written death, Chloe's whole character stagnation, the, khm, the musical episode, the saturaday morning cartoon villain problem, the fact that Michael manages to descieve an omniscient being, and God himself. I might do those separately, might not, we'll see, as those aren't nearly as interesting to dissect as the above.

Aaaand, anyway, if he is now God, I strongly suspect they'll play the angle of "even though he's God, he stills feels shitty, as true self-love/worth comes from elsewhere" and the usual thing.

[cherryblossomtease]

Part 5b

18+ only

warnings summary masterlist

You’re sad, not cruel, so you serve tea at the little table sat by the bay window, the lace curtain a lovely backdrop to the dark mood. Neither of you saying much as you do.

He’s watching you, his pretty eyes fixed on your every move as you pour and open the sugar. He holds up his hand to refuse, but accepts the milk and when you sit, he dares to look at your face.

“Thank you for letting me come,” He says.

You nod.

He is looking at the ribbon you’ve taken to wearing around your neck when your collar is not high and you look away, angry, embarrassed…

The Baron clears his throat and reaches across the table to take your hand but you draw it in and look at him holding nothing back. “First you did not write! Then you did not come! Everyone else did! My poor sick father made the trip. It nearly killed him but he came,”

He sits back with a sigh.

“You were here the entire time were you not?”

“I came as soon as I heard.” He confirms.

You don't know if this makes it better or worse.“Then why? Was it too hard for you? To see me cut open?  You wanted to wait until they stuck me back together, or am I too ugly now?” You want to say more but your words are stifled by the tears that betray you and fall over your cheeks which you quickly brush away.

He leans in again hushing you in a soft stream of Sokovian… “Draga devojko…you are the most beautiful woman, there are no exceptions to this. What’s happened to you can not change that, nothing can change that. When I first met you, yes, I saw your lovely eyes your sweet smile, I heard you sing of course but it was when I got to know the woman beneath that your beauty was revealed in truth.”

You blink up at him licking a tear from your lips.

How can someone who has not looked at you in nearly a month, who has left you questioning every word, every action and every assumed feeling say something and nearly erase all of that hurt.

You shake your head, your smile sardonic at best as you speak. “I still don’t understand….” This is said about many things, but you start at the beginning. “I was, so looking forward to that night. Everything seemed perfect. I saw him, in the audience you know...”

“Who?”

“The man who came to hear me sing. He came just for me. I believe he wanted to write a show and cast me as the lead. And when John said there was a message for me. Well I knew it would be from you.” You stop and take a quick sip of your own tea needing to steady yourself. Your hands are shaking. You haven’t said any of this out loud yet you realize. “When I—when I saw that it was not. I think that was the moment I knew you wouldn’t be coming back. Even if they hadn’t…” You touch the ribbon. “Just to find someone else standing where I’d hoped you might be made it clear to me that you had really gone. But I still had my voice I still had something. So after, when I lay in bed waiting just to speak, just to be able to say good morning to my nurse; I knew what it felt like to have nothing. I’ve never had nothing before.”

Your confession surprises you. It’s true. Even as a child with an empty belly you had your fathers stories to distract you from hunger. At Augustines you had Brigitte, in the streets you had determination and on the stage you had your voice. This summer you had the Baron.

And then, for those long lonely days and fitful nights you had nothing.

It was such a dark place, you’ve only just begun to pull yourself up from the pit. Having him here has sent you reeling and you feel as though you are flailing wildly for something to grab onto, anything to stop your world tumbling back into the abyss.

You don’t even realize that he’s come to you. He’s pulled you up and into his arms and you let him, though at first you are numb. He is after all the one who has caused so much of the pain, and he still hasn’t given you an answer, but the calming way he whispers to you, his language so soft and soothing, it does something, like breaking a dam and the tears come in a wave.

His arms are tighter until you think you will suffocate but you don’t care you are surrounded by him and you feel safe.

You haven’t told him yet, you don’t know if you will but you saw the obituaries.

Charles Jones. The name of the man who did it. The name of the man he killed.

You’d asked around and found out that he’d had his throat cut, and all the way. No rose stems to soften the blade for him.  The other that stood out only did so after Serena was found in her apartment inconsolable.

Unidentified man.

His name was Vasily Karpov.

They said it was suicide. That his body was unidentifiable, but it was figured out by the people who run the streets quick enough, and when word got back to your end of the city, you knew.

The war rumors had preceded anything you’d eventually learned about the Baron’s gentle nature on your own.

So, he would kill for you, but would he apologize?

You pull back and look up to find his eyes a bit red and misty.

“Why didn’t you come?” You ask again.

He gives a laugh, not because it’s funny, but because you are a most determined woman.

Smoothing your hair from your face, he kisses your forehead and cradles your cheek.

“Before this," He says glancing at your neck. "I had business abroad. Things left over from the war that I had no choice but to attend to. Things that could put you in danger if I were to say. But know this. I always meant to come back to you. I always meant to write. These unfortunate circumstances delayed my return and I am sorry. And after that..." He pauses, looks you over again and sighs. "Because I was scared.”

Though your frown is deep and stubborn, you feel yourself letting go of some of that anger. “I suppose I can forgive you for the letter. But you are not a coward Baron.”

“No… But I was scared to go through it again.”

You look away for a second, which is all it takes for you to make sense of it and your mood changes entirely.

“I have never known pain like it before.” He tells you, waiting, watching to see if you can even begin to understand.

To lose the one you love and a child? No, you can't. Only someone who has will ever know.

But you empathize finding it hard to imagine  that anyone would put themselves in a position to feel that sort of unbearable hell again. You can not be angry with him for that, though it will take time to heal the raw spot in your heart from all of those lonely hours spent not knowing why he hadn't come.

You look up at the Baron and for just a moment imagine what his life has been. You turn your physical pain into the loss he has endured and it threatens to make you mad. Quickly you reach up to lay your hand against his face until you mirror his gesture and you hold one another.

“I hope you never know it again.” You say, meaning it with all your heart.

His brows turn down at your kind words and it seems your compassion has him on the verge of breaking. You sense it; his fragility just waiting to feel safe enough to be seen. In an attempt to feel anything but the never ending hurt you now both seem doomed to share, you do what your body tells you to and surprise the Baron, pulling him down into a kiss, the soft sound of his muffled reaction against your mouth making your stomach flutter.

You wrap your arms around his shoulders as he bends to lift you up, his arm around the small of your back. You peek to see his eyes closed, his long lashes a little wet with tears that never fell as he happily submits to your solution to so much sadness.

Shutting your eyes again you sink into the kiss, your lips pressing against his as your tongue dares to enter his warm mouth and you find that kissing him feels as natural now as it did before all of this.

He easily carries you through from the parlor to the little sitting room where he goes down onto the settee with you on top of him; inhaling and exhaling one another until you pull away with a moan as his mouth finds the soft, sensitive and unscarred places along your neck. But when he gets close to the ribbon you make him stop.

“I thought you had forgotten me” You scold him softly breathing harder.

He looks so sorry. “Will you forgive me?”

“In time.” You say sitting up. “In time I think I can forgive a great many things.”

The Baron’s smile is wide and warm. Your lips meet again as you give in to everything you’d missed over these last few weeks.

It feels so good to have him here, so alive in your arms, no threat of him leaving, at least not yet…

Your hands move faster, his start to grab. You bury you fingers in his hair, your face rubbing against his, your mouth open as you consider more than the kiss… but, not yet.

“Wait” You breathe feeling the pressure start to mount when he pulls at your gown. “Please, I—I know you must think that I have done this before but, I have not.” You say leaning back to see him, your hands still on either side of his face.

The Baron is staring at you for so long you smile feeling nervous and see that he seems upset. “What is it?”

“I realize I’ve made it seem as though I would treat you as any other man might.” He says, still holding you by the small of your back.

You drop your hands and look away. You want to reply in a way that doesn’t dismiss his kind nature but you also hate that it’s true. “You’re a good man, but I’ve learned to expect it.”

He hangs his head with a sigh. “Then I have let you down in more ways than I imagined.”

“That’s not so.”

“Isn’t it?”

“No. I am a… I was a stage girl. I know what that means. Good man that you are, so do you.”

He groans looking away. “Najdraža, this world is not kind to women. I know it as do you. But you do not need to make such allowances for me. I was wrong to assume.”

“Thank you” You say, somewhat stunned. You never thought you’d live to hear any man say such a thing. “You may regret those words” you tease with a smile to which he laughs softly but there is a seriousness in his eyes when he looks at you again.

“That is not possible draga devojko, do you not know? Have I not made it clear?”

You shake your head with a wonderful nervousness.

He takes hold of your face and keeps you close, the soft depth of his voice resonating in your chest as he speaks “I love you, as I have never loved anyone.” He looks away and back. As if this isn’t enough he goes on “I will be honest with you now, yes?”

You nod, your lips pressed firmly together to hold in the breath and the tears

The Baron takes your hand looking down at nothing as he speaks. “I didn’t come to the hospital because I was scared to feel not only the pain of losing the woman I love again, but of being forced to sit by and actually watch it happen…” His voice gives out, broken by the emotion, and the tears that never came fall free. “The first time I was spared that misery. I did not think I would be so lucky twice.” He shrugs and you feel his free hand press a little harder against your back, “I am not a doctor mala ptica what could I have done? Burn castles to the ground, make men beg before they die. I can hunt and plot… but what is that when you are lying there dying and I can do nothing but watch.”

In answer, you gently smooth the tears from his face with your thumbs and fingers until he exhales sharply and uses the back of his own hand to dry his face.

Taking it, you turn his hand and pull him close, laying your cheek against the bruised knuckles he thought you wouldn’t notice. You kiss the worst of it and wonder how many times he must have struck the one he cut, or perhaps it was the one he threw from the window at the warehouse? It doesn’t matter, it’s finished now and you are thankful for his hands, capable of such vengeance, and yet gentle enough to show such love…

He is watching you, his eyes half lidded as he scans your face. “You know what I’ve done.” He realizes.

“I do”

There is a hint of worry in his voice. “And you will still have me?”

“I will.” You smile.

He turns his hand to hold yours and leans forward kissing you so gently you feel a shiver up your arms and legs.

“Do you love me?” He asks.

You brush the tip of his nose with yours. “Very much.”

“And will you let me care for you; right the wrongs I’ve done and help you heal from this?”

Your heart hurts as you answer “I will”

“Then please, would you call me by my first name?” He asks next, just barely kissing you again.

You place his hand flat over the top of your breast and do the same to him, feeling the steady, heavy pounding beneath his strong chest. “I would Helmut. I would always.”

His other hand leaves your back, you feel his fingers stroke up your neck and massage into your hair until he cradles you in one hand and holds your heart in the other. “And husband?” He asks finally, his brown eyes bright in the dim light of your theatre apartment.

Your smile gives away your answer before you say it, but you say it none the less.

“I will call you husband. And myself your wife, and I will say it with what is left of my voice.”

*

A wedding in a tiny country church and a reception held beneath the fire red and golden leaves of autumn may not be what the daughter of a Lord would have asked for. In fact a woman of status may have found it all rather disappointing. How fortunate then that you are the daughter of an artist, and the scene painted by natures brush is one you think of often as you journey by train to your new home in Sokovia.

By now the pamphlets will be full of the story as the usual source of tabloid fodder will have gone back to their country homes, leaving those left in the city starved for a good read. The mysterious Baron who married the stage girl just before winter should hold them off until spring —but you aren’t thinking of that as you glance up at the man who sits reading beside you now. Your husband.

When you smile at him he lays his hand on your knee, aware but glued to the page of the paper. One of substance and not gossip.

It’s not until the scenery begins to change that he looks up.

It’s all so wonderfully foreign to you. The pale sky you are used to grows a deep, heavy blue, and the trees are wide at the base growing narrow at their tops. Helmut watches out the window with you looking peaceful.

“Is this Sokovia?” You ask.

He nods. “The boarder. We’ll be at the station soon, and just at sunset.”

Sunset, you look back out the window catching your reflection.

You’ve put on your new coat in anticipation of the change in weather. The light brown fur frames your face. Your hair is high and modern. You look every bit the Baroness and in every way you are.

Every way but one.

Sunsets are followed by night…

You look back at Helmut again and take his hand, your heart beating so fast that you wonder if he can feel your quickened pulse in your fingertips.

[momentofmemory]

FICTOBER 2020 - day thirty-one

Prompt #31: “I trust you.”

Fandom: Teen Wolf

Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Scott McCall.

Words: 2218

Author’s Note: an underappreciated aspect of chess culture? games played for fun are called Skittles. set post 5B, Scott & Stiles take a break to play a game of chess, and wind up talking about a whole lot more than just a game. Gen fic, Scott & Stiles focus. Stiles POV.

>> j’adoube (i adjust)

Stiles tosses his pen in the air. Watches it flip, twice. Catches it, barely. Toss and repeat.

“Hey, Scott.”

Scott, who’s sitting across from him at the desk, just grunts without looking up. They’ve been going over scholarships together for the past three hours, and it’s the most mind-numbing use of a Saturday Stiles has had in a very long time.

Which, considering most of his Saturdays have been more of the terrifyingly bloody variety, is probably still preferable. But still.

“Scoooooooott.”

Scott flips to the next page. “Mm?”

Stiles throws his pen at him and smacks him squarely across the face.

“Ow, Stiles—what?”

Stiles flips over onto his stomach, triumphant to have finally gotten Scott’s full attention. “You wanna play a game?”

Scott puts his own pen down and leans back in the chair, stretching and popping in a way that suggests being hunched over for that long is unpleasant for even a werewolf. “What kind? Board game?”

Stiles grins.

Board games, to his mind, are sacrosanct.

Not necessarily because he loves them—given a free range of choices, he’d rather do just about anything else—but because it’s so easy for them to suck.

Yahtzee, Monopoly, Shoots and Ladders, Candy Land, Sorry, even Risk—there’s just too much luck involved for his taste. Draw randomized but predetermined cards, roll uncontrollable dice. And that’s not even touching the disaster that’s Life, where the only two choices that ever matter are college or career, kids or no kids.

Absolutely nothing about bite or no bite, or possession or no possession.

Or ‘betrayed by a monster that gets your best friend killed and your crush of five years committed to an asylum,’ but.

Either way, it’s a joke.

There are better board games. Clue or Scrabble, which still rely on the hand that’s dealt, but at least can be salvaged with enough knowledge and strategy.

But he has the best one in mind for today.

“Chess?”

Scott’s eyes light up with a competitive glint Stiles feels like he hasn’t seen in ages, and he knows he’s won.

“I could do a round or two,” Scott says.

“Oh, thank god—”

“But, then we have to get back to work on these.”

“Yep, uh-huh, absolutely,” Stiles says, rolling off the bed and hunting underneath it for his set.

He fully intends to bribe Scott into playing way more than that, but one thing at a time.

His fingers close over the wooden case and he draws it out, blowing a bit of dust off the top. He turns it over in his hands.

If board games are sacrosanct, then chess is the holy grail.

Most people don’t get the attraction, and he respects that. It takes a certain level of concentration to be good at chess, and considering how many strategy books he’s read on the topic—even if he rarely remembers them—he can beat a casual player without too much effort. Plus, most people prefer games that don’t require much thought, perfectly wiling to just roll their dice and move their mice.

Stiles respects that a lot less.

What he likes about chess is that it’s the one game that’s completely and totally winnable every time—with no variation from chance or random dealing. He might be outmatched, but he’s not outnumbered.

Every choice he makes is fully his own.

It’s the best game.

The only marginal difference is that white has a slight advantage, as it gets to go first, so as Stiles tosses the set onto the bed he says, “I can be black this time.”

Scott barely glances up from the scholarship he’s still worrying himself over. “Hm? No, that’s okay, I don’t mind. You can take white.”

Stiles rolls his eyes and flops onto the bed. “You’ve been black the past like, eight times we’ve played. You’re white this time.”

“Stiles, I really don’t care if you want it.”

It’s an innocuous statement, but Stiles’ temper flares because all he can hear is that Scott thinks he needs the advantage—even if it’s one that, statistically, barely even matters. “What, because you don’t think I can beat you otherwise?”

“What? No, Stiles, I—” Scott falls silent, and it’s enough to instantly cool Stiles’ frustration. “I just—never mind. I can be white.”

Stiles hesitates for a few beats, then turns the board and starts setting the pieces up so the white ones are facing Scott.

He pauses. He’s been trying to pay more attention to Scott lately, but it’s hard—Scott tends to fold pretty quickly on smaller issues, and he tends to—

Well.

Not.

“Then again,” he tries, “I guess it doesn’t really matter—”

“You asked me to play white, so I’ll play white.” Scott’s voice is flat. “You were right; we haven’t switched it up in a while, so it’s only fair. Just give me a sec to finish this.”

“…Okay.”

Stiles toys with the edge of the board as he waits for Scott to finish restacking the papers.

One of the reasons Stiles likes chess is because it makes for a surprisingly good Rorschach test, and he’s played it with every member of the pack at some point or another.

Liam’s not much of a challenge, mostly because he’s made it clear he doesn’t care. The one time they played, he’d started strong—aiming to capture more than aiming to secure—but his failure to consider long-term strategy had gotten him into trouble almost immediately. With Malia, she has a good concept of how to control the center of the board, and favors trap-based strategy, but her ability to pay attention to her opponent’s gameplay is usually her downfall. Lydia tends to focus on a bishop and pawn strategy, which works very well for her mostly because it infuriates Stiles—his own strategy relies heavily on a more spontaneous approach to movement, and her method thoroughly demarcates most of the board. That’s probably why he enjoys playing with Kira, whose strategy rotates every time they play—as soon as he’d introduced her to the game, she’d started binging chess tutorials at speeds that put his own research to shame.

He hasn’t had the chance to play with the new pack members, but he has his guesses as to how that will go. Mason will play circles around him, but be super nice about it. Hayden will either trounce him thoroughly if she cares, or lose terribly if she doesn’t, and there will be nothing in between. Corey… Corey will probably favor the knights, which will make him hard to beat on the front end, but almost impossible to lose to in the endgame.

But he can work with that. All of those strategies make sense; make it easier for him to understand and categorize them.

He looks down at the white and black pieces, standing silently in anticipation of the match.

He can’t think of any reason Scott would want to reject the advantage, unless it was just for his benefit, but he hadn’t appeared to be lying.

And now Scott probably won’t tell him because he’d snapped at him instead of just asking.

Stiles winces and rakes his hands through his hair.

It’s just a chess preference. It’s not like it matters.

Except it does, because everything between them feels so fragile after Theo.

Stiles’ thoughts are interrupted when Scott vaults onto the bed, accidentally knocking one of the pawns forward as the board lists to the side.

“Whoops,” Scott says. The tiniest of smirks appears on his face as he moves to fix it. “J’adoube.”

Stiles rolls his eyes. “You don’t have to announce that that’s not your move when I can clearly see what just happened.”

“Can’t be too careful,” Scott says, adjusting the piece. “You’ve definitely called me out for less in the past.”

“You tried to change your mind after wrapping your whole hand around a bishop! How is that less?”

Scott shrugs, and Stiles is relieved he doesn’t seem to be bothered about the pieces anymore. “I’m just saying. Can’t be too careful.”

“A mindset I would normally endorse wholeheartedly, however.”

Scott laughs, then settles in cross-legged and stares down at the board, elbows resting on his knees and face furrowed in contemplation.

Stiles glances at Scott, then at board, then back at Scott again.

Scott doesn’t move.

Suddenly, it’s really bothering Stiles that despite having played with him more than anyone else, despite knowing him better than anyone else, Stiles still doesn’t understand why Scott plays the way he does.

It’s not that Scott’s exceptionally bad, or that Scott’s exceptionally good. It’s that he’s both.

When he plays with Stiles, he matches him step for step, pivoting his goals almost as quickly as Stiles does. But the few times Stiles’ seen Scott play with others, that ability seems to vanish—his level of competence almost directly mapped onto the level of the person he’s playing with, above or below where Stiles would expect it.

It doesn’t make sense, but that’s just Scott. Stiles had long since acknowledged that there were always going to be some things that didn’t make sense about his best friend.

That was before Theo. Before everything that was Scott & Stiles fell apart.

And also, Scott still hasn’t moved.

“Hey Scott?” Stiles waits until he glances up at him, chin still resting in his hands. “You gonna go, bud?”

“Yeah,” Scott says. He blinks down at the board. “There’s just… a lot of options.”

“Okay, right, that’s true,” Stiles says. “But it’s also just the first move.”

“Yeah.”

Scott reaches out and touches the pawn from before. He hovers there for a moment, then retracts his hand—the pawn still unmoved.

Stiles clears his throat.

“Really? You want me to—” Scott sighs. “J’adoube.”

“Technically, you’re supposed to say that before you touch it.”

“And technically, you said I didn’t have to say it earlier, so that one could count for the one I just did.”

“Bro,” Stiles says, because this is getting ridiculous. “Literally just move the pawn. Or a knight. Or any of the other pawns. There are zero other options.”

“I know, I know,” Scott says. “I just… what if I move this piece, and then you move like your knight or something, and it turns out I made the wrong move?”

Stiles squints at him. “It’s your move. Why would my move, which comes afterward, make yours wrong?”

“Because I have to stop your plan.”

“Right, but like.” Stiles tilts his head. “What about your plan?”

“That is my plan.”

Stiles’ brain short circuits, and he spins rapidly through every game he’s ever watched Scott play. “So—so wait. You mean every time you’re playing you’re just… trying to figure out your opponent’s plan? You’re not making one of your own?”

“I mean, kinda?” Scott reaches for the pawn again, then pauses before touching it. “J’adoube.”

“Yeah, whatever, just move the pawn,” Stiles says. “So earlier, it wasn’t about wanting me to have an advantage; you wanted black because… it’s to your advantage?”

Scott spins the pawn around in a slow circle, then lets go of it without moving its position. Again.

“I guess,” he says. “You like playing white better and I like black better, so it just… makes more sense to let us play the ones we actually prefer.”

“Then why didn’t you just say that?”

Scott shrugs. “It just seemed like it was important to you, and I… I didn’t want to argue.” His eyes drop, and so does his voice. “I don’t want to argue with you anymore.”

Something clicks in Stiles’ mind. “J’adoube.”

“Uh,” Scott looks pointedly at the pieces, which are still unmoved, and his hands, which aren’t anywhere near them. “What?”

“‘I adjust,’” Stiles says. “That’s what you’ve been doing. Adjusting your plan to match mine, or—or anyone else.”

Scott picks at the edge of his sleeve. “And that’s bad?”

“Um.” Stiles hasn’t gotten that far. “No? I mean like, you’re clearly very good at it. You’ve definitely beat me enough times doing it.”

“I sense a ‘but.’”

“See, there you go, anticipating me again. You’re a pro.”

“Stiles.”

“Yeah, okay, the point.” Stiles glances down at the chessboard—and then at the pile of scholarships, too. “Look, I’m just saying you gotta just take the shot sometimes. Or move the pawn. Whatever. My point is, it’s okay to make your own plans.”

Scott shifts a bit to look behind him at the paperwork, something both worried and hopeful in his expression.

“And then, y’know,” Stiles continues, “you can always adjust them later if you have to. But you don’t have to start out that way.”

Scott picks up the pawn and turns it about in his fingers. He bites his lip. “And… you trust this to work?”

“Nah, man.” Stiles settles back against the wall and nods towards the board. “It’s the first move; I have no idea how it’ll play out. But… I trust you enough to know that you can handle it if it doesn’t.”

Scott’s eyes get suspiciously bright, but Stiles doesn’t comment. “I trust you, too.”

(And, well.)

(If Stiles’ eyes get a little bright too, no one comments on that either.)

Scott moves the pawn to e4, and lets it go.

[cookiedoughmeagain]

Haven DVD commentaries: 5.15 - Power

5.15 Commentary with Adam Higgs and Speed Weed (writers for this episode and the next episode)

SW: By the time anyone’s listening to this, we’ll both be writing on different shows. But we can’t tell you which ones yet. Not the same show as each other sadly. AH: Yeah that was a shame. But we will one day in the future, I have a good feeling about that. However for Haven stuff, I think the thing here was, we were trying to reboot the show in a way. SW: That’s right. AH: 514 is the start of the season, or of season 5 part B, but these two episodes [515 and 516] really encompass the new world order. SE: That’s right, they define the world after the shroud is down. Did we call it the shroud in the show? AH: The shroud, yeah. That’s actually a good point because we spent a lot of time talking about what the shroud was going to be called. I can’t remember the other names we thought about, but we went back and forth for a long time. SW: And we talked about what we called it - because often there’s a handle that you use in the room for what you’re talking about, and then you have to remember, did you actually put the same term in an actor’s mouth so that the world inside the show knows what it’s called? AH: My favourite is when you don’t realise that. On another show I did that, it was in the edit that I was like; Oh have we ever mentioned that that’s what that’s called? And going through scripts we realised that no; no we did not - OK, let’s ADR some stuff in.

AH: So this was fun. We’re both fans of The Walking Dead, and we got to do a Haven kind of version of The Walking Dead, or of them just trying to survive. It’s not the Trouble of the Week things so much, it’s … SW: It’s Haven’s version of a post-apocalyptic world, it’s true. These episodes were directed by Rick Bota who also direct 9 and 10 that Adam and I also wrote, so it was good to work with him again.

[Dwight and Nathan talk outside the school] AH: So here we get to see that time has passed since we last saw everyone in 514 and we spent a lot of time making sure that everyone had their own intro so we could showcase how things have changed. And a lot of this episode is about putting strain on these episodes and just seeing how everyone reacts to this post-apocalyptic kind of situation they’re in

SW: There’s Tony, he becomes a bigger character in the next episode. AH: Yeah we spent a lot of time seeding a lot of things. And we shot these episodes in between our set move. So, for other other seasons we shot up until October, or earlier than that even? And everything was shot on our sound stages in Chester. And then this year, half way through the season everything got moved up to Halifax, because of hockey. SW: That’s right. We shot on a hockey rink in Chester. Really anything that has a lot of space and a tall ceiling can be a sound stage for a television show - if it’s quiet outside, if there’s no noise from the street coming in. *pause for the break*

[Duke driving to work in Halifax] AH: This is actually Halifax, this bridge here. SW: That’s right, and I think this is actually one of the first scenes we shot in Halifax. Oh no, we shot that later. AH: Yeah this was shot quite a bit after. And here we’ve got our wonderful mechanic here played by William MacDonald. I worked with William on an episode of Republic of Doyle, so I was happy when I saw him in the auditions for this, and he did a great job. He just has that look, that imposing feel.

SW: So anyway, the people in Chester wanted their hockey rink back, so when we got a 26 epsiode order (seasons 5A and 5B) we had to move sets at this point as we were shooting. And the reason these episodes take place almost entirely in the school (this storyline [Duke in Halifax] excepted) is because all of our standing sets were being taken down in one place and being put up in another. So you’ll see in later episodes those sets coming back AH: We slowly start to see the sets getting put back up. But these scenes with Duke in Halifax were shot after - well after - because we had to shoot everything in the school for this whole block.

[As Duke is leaving his voicemail to Monty talking about the kind of job he’s looking for] SW: What do you do when you’re responsible for having given Troubles to thousands of people? AH: Go to disneyland. But no, that is exactly what we were trying to figure out here - what happens to Duke? After the explosion how does everyone pick up the pieces and move on?

AH: And another goal for these episodes was trying to get the characters to an interesting place, or a place we can build off of. And the relationship between Audrey and Charlotte was an important one to build (over this and the next couple of episodes) to see if we could get them to a place where they can trust each other. Because it’s like Speed said, what do you do after you gave everyone Troubles? What do you do when you find out that this woman that you’ve been missing your whole life [your mother] has been an obstacle for you for the last couple episodes? How do you respond to that? And we do try really hard on this show to create some level of reality, maybe not in terms of the supernatural, but at least in the emotions characters have.

SW: The other thing that was a challeng early in the design of these episodes, and it was really cool talking through with Adam in the room, was how we got a super deadly - oh I should pause, people are psyched about this kiss [Nathan’s and Audrey’s ‘I like the view’ moment], enjoy the kiss. AH: This hasn’t aired yet, I just realised. And I’ve been waiting to see the Twitter response to these kisses, because we ramp up that lovefest, in these two episodses especially. And there’s some really powerful scenes in 516. SW: It’s true. Or I should say, I believe you. I’ve actually forgotten what happens in 516. You know we do have a portion of fans who are not on Team Naudrey. We have a portion of fans who are rapid Duke/Audrey lovers.

SW: So, we really worked hard to design a Trouble that was super-deadly, and really scary, and didn’t require any production budget. So we talked a long time about the darkness, like - when you were in the dark a monster would come and eat you, but then we thought you’d have to produce something for that. So it became just the darkness itself. AH: And we even talked later about whether there would be a sound cue or not a sound cue. SW: Sound is cheap. AH: Yes, but this was a good one. We went back and forth on what to make this look like. And you’ll see some of that production-friendly magic throughout these two episodes. But the darkness I think worked well in just keeping everyone scared. Because it’s kind of human nature to be afraid of the dark.

[Dwight giving his banishment speech to the assembled crowd in the school hall] AH: We got to give Adam Copeland some cool stuff to do, and just showing where Dwight would go if you pushed him to the edge. And I’ll admit, we went further with Dwight in the early drafts. Dwight was Ned Stark in the early drafts, and he was a little bit more complicit in some executions. But we looked at the character and had to pull back a bit on that, I was a little zealous there, I think it was good to pull back. SW: Well you had The Walking Dead in mind, you know. But the truth is ultimately, we’re not that show. We are more heartfelt and lighter, and we protect our characters.

[Nathan discussing his trip down Trouble Alley, and Audrey pointing out cell phones don’t work.] AH: Cell phones. SW: We talked a lot about cell phones. AH: We did, we talked about whether or not we wanted them to be able to use cell phones, or not to use cell phones, could cell phones work that way? SW: Could they get through the shroud? Well, we knew they couldn’t get through the shroud AH: How did the shroud work when it came to people outside? There were a lot of rules that we inside the room spent a lot of time discussing how things would work.

[As Nathan is telling Audrey who he’s taking with him to the power plant, and the camera cuts away to show those people, and Vince and Dave’s argument] AH: Speed, I have to give you big props for pushing with the intercut here, because it’s not something we usually do on this show. And you really encouraged me to push it further and I think it ended up working really well. SW: Well you did have the instincts to do that, and TV now can really jump all over the place and audiences follow it. Haven has typically followed a pretty standard way of story telling. But, for film students out there, this started (and we’re now back to) a conversation between Nathan and Audrey, that cuts forwards to a walking shot [of the group coming up to Trouble Alley], that cuts back to a flashback of Dave and Vince, and then comes back to the overarching narrative [Nathan and Audrey’s conversation]. You’re following that as you watch it, but it is - at least to the tastes of this show - a risky re-arrangement of time. AH: It looks good though. SW: And it’s very efficient story telling. You can get more story in in less time. AH: We did get very efficient on this show, I have to say.

[Vince and Dwight’s conversation in the office about the batteries] AH: This relationship was a lot of fun. And it was great to build it, and talking to Adam Copeland about it, he really thinks of the character, of Dwight, that Vince is his dad so to speak. When he’s thinking about how to play a scene really works in that kind of structure.

SW: To be clear, in case we got confusing before, Trouble Alley has no cell phones working. Cell phones work within the school, and around town inside the shroud, except for Trouble Alley where - did we explain it, I can’t remember, but there’s some kind of electromagnetic Trouble there. AH: Yeah and EMP kind of Trouble that’s knocking out a lot of the power.

AH: This episode moves a quite a clip. And again we’re back here in Halifax. SW: Actual Halifax. And here is Hailie. AH: Hailie, played by Tamara Duarte. SW: She just had a spot on audition. I think Shawn Pillar, our executive producer director, knew her, and she delivered a tape that was just perfect. We needed somebody who was broken and hard, and yet also vulnerable which is not easy to do. And she’s a young actress. AH: And she can sell stuff so well with expression, that’s one of the things she brought to this. And this character ends up growing. We originally only had her in these two episodes [515 and 516] but then she becomes integral to the story. And that was interesting because we hadn’t actually shot these scenes yet - as we were talking about earlier, the Duke scenes were shot much later than the rest of the episode - so we had to go back and change things a little bit to make sure it lined up with the mythology that we were putting in to the show to pay off in epsiodes like 21, 22, 23. It was interesting. SW: And we designed her Trouble before we thought how we were going to use her later (to phase through the shroud). But it was kind of cool, we essentially took a tool that we’d built off the shelf, instead of designing it specifically. SW: I love the story Matt McGuinness tells about when he was in Vegas with some of his friends from Franklin & Bash on a retreat there. And they were getting into a hotel van to go down town for dinner or something like that. So they’re this goupr of 50 year old men, and in climbs a group of good looking 50 year old women who were there for some sort of party. And they get to talking and flirting. So it’s like; What do you do? Oh we write for TV, Franklin & Bash. And that drops like a lead balloon; nobody cares. So Matt says; Well actually I write for Haven - and they all light up. And one woman says to Matt; You know what I love about Haven - it’s so complicated, but I know that you guys have everything absolutely planned out right from the beginning, so even though it feels confusing at times, I feel safe in your hands. AH: *laughing* What did Matt say to that? SW: He nodded and said; You’re right. And then he came back and told us that story. And, it’s just not true folks, I’m sorry. We are scrambling at every moment to figure it out. I think we do. AH: I think we do. That’s the thing, we make it work. Unlike other shows (nothing against them) we do take pains to make sure that if we set it up, we fix it, we make sure it works. We sometimes spend long days on getting that stuff to work.

[As Nathan is about to take the group into Trouble Alley] AH: I do enjoy this bunch of ragtag misfits working together. SW: Notice, another invisible Trouble. That’s a crew member with a wire in their hand; that’s cheap. AH: But if you’re wondering what I think it looks like, I’ve always thought of it as like Godzilla, a smaller version of Godzilla. SW: Cool! AH: Just invisible.

[As Charlotte gets her foot caught] AH: Oh, and again, talking about The Walking Dead transitions, Nathan in the original draft was super dark here where instead of saving Charlotte, Nathan basically blackmails her freedom in exchange for information. SW: Right, it was jumping up a wall originally, and he was only going to pull her up if she gave up the information about the aether. Whereas here now she offers it because she’s in trouble. AH: So I think it was a good note to pull back on that, but again it was just getting into that head space of Game of Thrones, Walking Dead.

[Duke on the phone to the bank who refuse to recognise the existence of Haven.] AH: And again here we are putting in some rules of the shroud, how does it work with memory, what do people of think of Haven, that are outside of the shroud. SW: Yeah, important for the rest of the season. AH: And are these - yes they are, the first episodes to really start Duke on this journey of him walking the earth. SW: Oh yeah for sure. Last episode he was in Haven. AH: And that plays out for quite a while. SW: Yeah he’s out of town for a while.

[Nathan and the others arriving at the smashed up Herald] AH: This scene I felt was important, just to show how the world has changed so much for everyone. You know, no one is safe. And it’s not just Troubles, there’s looters and stuff where the Troubles have set off a fuse, but at the end of it is just crime and everything. SW: And very poignant that it’s Dave here in the Teagues home, because for most of the series they were the keeper of the secrets. If everyone else was confused, they knew what was going on. And then a little bit in season 4 it started getting out of their hands , and then certainly in season give they are way out of their depth. And this their vault of secrets has been affected.

[As Charlotte is telling Nathan that aether might help her solve the Troubles AH: Here we had to be very specific about this receipe for success and how it would work.

[Dwight to Audrey; It’s easy making choices from the side lines] AH: This is the ‘heavy is the head that wears the crown’ aspect

[As we see the power plant] AH: This was actually a power plant SW: Yeah it’s so cool. Very unusual looking place. AH: So that was neat that we were able to get an actual power plant with the turbines and everything. I will say for myself, that I am not mechanically inclined at all. So there was a lot of help from the room in figuring out how electricity works. And this is Kira Fletcher, this is our third Fletcher that we’ve used on this show.

AH: It was nice to get everybody in the dirty clothes and everything too. And they wore it all well.

[As Nathan takes the wires from Kira] AH: That’s the other thing, in these episodes I really wanted to make Nathan as active as possible. He’s trying his best to put this genie back in the bottle. And just every time he tries to do something good it seems to backfire. SW: Well, it’s sort of the theme of the show; No good deed goes unpunished. AH: And we’re going to see that with Duke right here.

[As Hailie is asking Duke about her mom’s ‘superpower’ AH: And again, a lot of this story we had put in here, and we didn’t have to alter it when we came up with the fix or the solution or the mythology for 21, 22, 23. SW: Well and episode 20 as well. AH: Yeah, her mom is seeded in right there. SW: If you haven’t seen it yet, epsiode 20, Sam Ernst and Jim Dunn wrote a retro Haven episode that features Hailie’s mom. AH: And I remember there was talk about using Tamara to play Hailie’s mom. But I don’t think we did that in the end.

[As Duke and Hailie finish their conversation outside the garage] AH: Oh, somebody listening in. SW: 26B, is that what Matt calls it? AH: Yeah, 26B SW: Matt’s code for someone overhearing.

AH: This was fun with Charlotte as a character where she comes from another world that’s much more advanced, so she’s not a mechanic, she’s not an engineer by trade, but our technology is so simple to her. SW: It’s like playing with a paperclip to her. There’s a word that we use all the time in the room that isn’t actually in the show; Arcadians. Just to ourselves, Charlotte and Mara and her father are Arcadians. And William.

[As Audrey finds Vince with Rolf’s body, the latest victim of the No Marks Killer] AH: And this was some heavy mythology to drop as well. There is a lot going on in this episode! SW: Yeah it’s really the season premiere AH: It was nice to bring the Teagues back into the main cast. They’ve been out on an island almost, having their own plot and learning a lot of stuff that was very important. But it was nice to bring them back so that they’re interacting again with Audrey and Nathan, and Dwight. SW: And they do well when they’re holding secrets. They’re built for that.

AH: Eric Cayla, our Director of Photography, did some great work with darkness and shadows in this episode. [Audrey; Did they force you to do this? Because I can get you out.] AH: And there’s that Audrey compassion that’s going to play a big role in 17 SW: We like to, on this show to set up things, especially as it’s become more serialised. And with that litle line there, Audrey just sealed her fate for episode 17, or the end of 16. AH: Yeah, that was another one, like we talked about with 9 and 10, where the ending moved back and forth.

[Dave to Charlotte; Is there anything I can do to help? Back rub? Water?] SW: *laughing: Oh Adam. You have a way of getting humour in. That’s just terrific AH: *also laughing* I remember there was some debate though about that ‘back rub’ if he was coming on to her. And I was just like: No, no - he’s just in an awkward situation and doesn’t know what to do. Being an awkward person myself, that’s coming from real experience.

AH: And this was great work by the art department on these power schematics. It really helped tell the story.

[people in the school fighting over a flashlight] AH: Chaos! And this is again that post-apocalyptic landscape [Dwight; Alright everyone take a deep breath SW: That’s what I say to my kids when they throw tantrums AH: But not the rest of the speech. And this just shows how Dwight has elevated in the eyes of the town.He really is the leader. So interesting where you started with this character and where he ends.

[As Nathan and Kira find the mine shaft where the aether seems to be] AH: So we were talking this through, if this is where William’s stash of aether is held, our idea behind it is that he stashed it in a natural cave or underground area, geological formation of some kind SW: Like 500 years ago AH: And then things were built over it. It’s not that William went there when that building was built and buried it there. SW: Right, just to line up with the backstory that William and Mara were trapsing round New Engliand in the 1500s.

[Mechanic on screen; I looked you up Hailie Colton] AH: Oh I remember we didn’t have a last name for her initially. We had to go back and add that in.

[Duke runs the mechanic over and drives through Hailie] AH: Yes, Duke knew that was going to happen. He was not trying to kill Hailie. And props to Shawn and Rick for blocking this, it was not the easiest scene to block - a lot of moving pieces.

[As Audrey is packing a bag to go look for Nathan] AH: And here we were trying to have a nice mother/daughter moment SW: Yeah you did a great job. The slow arc of getting them together. AH: I think that’s the other thing we tried to do with these episodes is re-establish that anything could happen. That this is a new world order, bad stuff, people are dying. And it could be one of our characters. SW: Yeah we talked about where to end this episode and start the next one [The implication being they considered ending the episode before Nathan gets back, and so with the suggestion that he is actually dead] AH: I think a lot of these background extras here [as Nathan arrives in the hall full of people] were comped in. SW: They had 300 extras on the day AH: Was it 300? Maybe they weren’t then, maybe it was all practical.

AH: Thank you for listening SW: We’ll see you on 16

[staticscreenwriting]

12 Days of Christmas - [Day 12]

A/N: Day number 12 for the Christmas coundown with @mattysheelies. It’s finally up. Sorry it took so long. I’ve finally uploaded all my entires. Masterpost to follow soon if you guys want one. 

Prompt: Fake dating., kinda

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Reader

Living on your own is hard. It’s rushing from one job to another trying to make just enough money to pay your rent and also put food on the table. It’s being stuck in a perpetual state of weariness. And yet it’s — liberating.

Billy drags himself up the steps to his apartment, the effort and exhaustion of today’s work settling deep in his bones. For a moment he wonders what life would be like had he stayed in Hawkins. Had he done as his dad wanted and followed in his footsteps working as a security guard. A “manly” job as Neil had described it then. A job worthy of a Hargrove man.

He wonders if he’d be married by now, to a woman with no backbone. If he’d treat her the way Neil treats Susan — the way he treated his mom.

He wonders and wonders but he will never know for certain because he didn’t stay. He got away. Packed his shit and bolted the moment they placed that diploma in his hands. Everything that’s left of Billy Hargrove in Hawkins, is the memories of those who knew him and a head full of What-ifs. 

That is not a future he will ever know and he is grateful for that. But even so, the California from his childhood, all golden glow and soft touches, is not the one he’s come back to. This California is void of childhood nostalgia and dripping with the unpleasant truth of the real life — a tiny apartment with leaking pipes and the fact that he has to work two jobs to pay the rent for said apartment on time.

Everything’s better than Hawkins though. Everything is better than whatever future he would’ve lived through there.

He walks past the doors of apartments 1B, 2B and 3B. All of them painted the same shade of firetruck red. Paint chipping off of each door just the same. There’s a small Christmas wreath dangling from 2B’s door and a set of multicolored lights taped up around 3B’s windows, reminding him that the holidays are fast approaching.

It’s not a time he’s particularly fond of, never was really, not since he was very little. There’s only so much holiday cheer one can muster up when your parents are always fighting, often getting physical. Then mom left and before Susan came around they didn’t celebrate Christmas at all anymore. Sometimes Billy wonders if the holidays made Neil extra bitter. If it served as a reminder of what should be and what he fucked up — a happy family celebrating together. 

Then Susan and Max moved in and so did Christmas. Only it never felt like Billy was a real part of it. Always on the outside looking in, pushed to the sidelines. Maybe had they showed up earlier things could’ve been different. But by then he was so bitter already, filled with so much fury, it didn’t make a difference anymore.

He passes by 3B, music sounding softly from inside. Even though they are neighbours, Billy only knows the inhabitant of said apartment by the number of their place. It’s an older guy who sometimes gets visits from his grandparents and has a mean little anklebiter for a dog. That’s all he knows. In fact, he doesn’t know a whole lot about any of his neighbours. Back in Hawkins, everyone knew everyone’s business. Whether it was important or not, scandalous or not. People cared and people talked.

Not here. It’s live and let live. It’s fight your own fights, battle your own demons. Nothing more than a “hello” in passing shared between neighbours.

Well all except one. 5B isn’t 5B anymore. 5B is (Y/N) and (Y/N) is — different. She doesn’t give a shit about the anonymity the others seem to be so fond of. (Y/N) is all soft smiles and cheery “hellos” and invitations to movie nights and microwave popcorn. 

(Y/N) is his age, barely 19. She’s a mom too. Billy’s never particularly cared for babies, but even he can admit that Rosie is an adorable little girl. She’s got big bright eyes always taking in everything around her with a sense of wonder than only kids possess. And she always seems happy to see him, always smiling with her one single tooth. Even though he’s never held her or played with her or anything, she seems to like him anyway. And Billy appreciates that even if it comes from a 1 year old.

He’s just about to put the key into his lock, when the door next to him, the door to 5B, swings open. 

(Y/N) looks stressed, exhausted. She always does. Billy thinks it probably comes with being a young single mom who works a full time job. Her hair’s a mess, all over the place, a sweater is hanging loosely off of her shoulder and her eyes look tired. So deeply tired. And yet, when she looks up at him there’s a spark there. She always has a certain warmth about her when she talks to Billy. He thinks it’s one of those special qualities that most mothers seem to possess.

“ Hey you. “ she exclaims with a smile. Rosie who’s propped up on her hip starts to wiggle, flopping her arms up and down in her excitement as she catches sight of Billy.

“ Hey yourself. “ Billy replies “ and hello to you miss Rosie. “ He takes her tiny hand in his. It’s so small he’s almost afraid of breaking it. There’s a trust she puts in him, at her 1 year of age, that makes him feel warm inside. If this tiny innocent girl thinks he’s  good guy, maybe he isn’t so bad after all. 

“ Rough day ? “ (Y/N) asks, her eyes wandering up and down his frame. He wants to tell her that yes, he had a rough day. That work at the auto repair shop was more than slow and that the few surf students he had today were rich assholes who only wanted to learn it for the novelty of it and not for the actual sport itself. He doesn’t say that though, because really she has it way harder. He hears her leave her apartment every morning at 4:30 to drop Rosie off at a babysitter and start her work at the local diner. Then when she comes home she has to do all the chores at home and care for her child. She’s a real trouper. Compared to her life, his does not seem so hard at all. 

So he shrugs, curls bouncing with the motion “ It was alright. Where are you girls off to ? “ 

“ Well, “ she smiles that little smile she does when she’s particularly proud of something. It’s kinda ridiculous, Billy thinks, that he’s so smitten over her he can already differentiate between the different smiles she puts on. 

“ Diner had a pretty big turnup today and I got a pretty big tip. So because miss Rosie here was being extra good today I promised her we’d get some ice cream and go to the beach. “ 

Rosie smiles her big baby smile, a little dribble going down her chin. She’s a real sunshine. He hardly ever hears her cry and when she does, he hears (Y/N) sing to her through the paper thin walls connecting his apartment to hers. And only a moment later the cries turn to whimpers then sighs then vanish all together. But she continues singing. And sometimes that’s the melody guiding him into a good night’s sleep.

“ I’d ask you if you want to join us but you look like all you want right now is some sleep ? “ (Y/N) says, raising her eyebrow in question.

Really, until a few minutes ago that was all he wanted. To go to bed and forget about today and hope that tomorrow will be better. Though now things have shifted. He knows he shouldn’t be getting into this. He knows getting attached is wrong. She has her own mess to deal with and adding an emotionally scarred guy with daddy and mommy issues into the mix is probably the last thing she needs. It’s not like he’s asking anything more of her than a friendship though. This is just two neighbours hanging out. Having ice cream. Taking a stroll on the beach.

That’s all it is. Even if she makes his heart do weird fluttery things in his chest. Even if she’s all he dreams about when he falls asleep to her singing. Even if he wonders what her lips taste like.

It’s just friends.

“ You know what ? That sounds real good. “ 

And then she smiles again and he wonders if this is what every friendship feels like.

The setting sun casts the beach in hues of golds and pinks and reds. (Y/N) and Billy sit side by side in the still warm sand. Rosie, ice cream smeared around her lips, leans her head against her mother’s shoulder, eyes closed from the long day she’s had. 

“ She out ? “ Billy asks, letting his eyes linger on the sight of (Y/N) and Rosie cuddling as the setting sun illuminated them in a golden glow. 

“ Like a light. “ she replies then lets her words being followed by a deep sigh. One that’s heavy with meaning. It seems that now that her daughter is asleep, she really lets herself feel the exhaustion of the day that’s been weighing on her shoulders until now.

“ You alright ? “ Billy asks. Growing up, Billy was always alone with his feelings. Whatever he was going through, he was going through it all by himself. When he left Hawkins, he made a promise to himself. To be better. To do better. And part of that, is showing people he cares about that he cares. That he’s there. Even if he can’t do anything other than listen. 

“ I uh — not not really. I don’t wanna annoy you with my stupid problems though. You got enough on your plate as it is. “ 

“ Ah, lay it on me. I’m big boy I can take it. “ 

“ Are you now ? “ 

“ Mmmhh. And I’m sure your problems aren’t stupid. “ 

(Y/N) lets out another sigh, shifts little Rosie closer to her chest and places a kiss on her head. Billy can almost see the thoughts running through her head, trying to assemble themselves in a way that makes sense. 

“ So usually at Christmas I go and see my mom but this year she has decided to come visit us. “ 

“ You and your mom don’t have a good relationship ? “ Billy wonders, knowing he’s not seen anyone that could potentially be (Y/N) mother come or go anytime since he’s moved into his apartment.

“ I mean, she’s my mom and I love her she’s just — a bit judgemental. I know it comes from a good place and that she just wants the best for me but the thought of her coming to my place and listing all the things that I’m doing wrong in her eyes is uh — it’s a lot. “ 

It’s baffling to him that anyone, especially her own mother, could find anything wrong with the way (Y/N) navigates her life. To Billy she’s a damn superhero. 

“ What could she possibly have to judge ? You have a stable job, your own place. You raise your kid by yourself and you seem to be doing pretty good at that. What’s there for her not to like ? “ 

(Y/N) raises an eyebrow at him, as if it’s obvious. “ I’m a single mother at 19. That’s a start there. “ 

“ But you’re a good mother. “ 

She shrugs “ I hope I am but it doesn’t matter to my mom. It matters that Rosie was born out of wedlock. It marries that I dumped her dad after he cheated on me. It matters that I am alone and apparently Rosie doesn’t have a strong male parental figure to look up to which, according to my dear mother, will hinder her future development and makes her develop unhealthy relationships with men. “ 

“ Jesus. “ 

“ Yup. That’s my mom for you. I think she kind of resents the fact that I dumped Adam. Think she would’ve wanted me to forgive him everything he did to me and stay with him for the sake of a seemingly unbroken family. “ 

Billy wonders often, if such a thing even exists. A family that’s not broken, one without skeletons, one that smiles and laughs and loves even when nobody's watching. And if it does, he wonders if it’s the people bound together by blood or if the most happy families are those thrown together by circumstance. Those that find each other in the dark.

“ I mean, if she needs a strong male role model you can always knock on my door. I am pretty strong if I dare say so. “ Billy jokes and raises an arm to flex is muscles in mock bragging.

“ I’ll keep it in mind, though I don’t think that’s something my mom wants to hear. You’re not my boyfriend so It doesn’t count in her books. “ 

His heart drops at that thought. And then, just a second later, an idea sparks. Like a firework on the fourth of july it starts with the sizzle of a fuse and then explodes with all the possibilities. It’s a bad idea. He has to remind himself of that. It’s a horrible idea. One that’s only gonna end up in a mess. 

Don’t say it.

Don’t say it.

Don’t —

“ What if I was ?  “

“ Huh ? “ 

“ What if I was your boyfriend. Just for — just for show. Maybe your mom would go a bit easier on you. We could pretend for the time she’s here. “ 

The minutes when she doesn’t reply, just looks at him and considers, seem to drag on like hours and hours and years and decades. And with every second Billy’s hands grow more clammy, his heart more weary, his breath more shallow.

“ You’d do that ? “ 

He lets out breathy laugh. If only she knew what he’d do for them both. “ Sure. “ 

She places a soft kiss on his cheek. He knows how her lips feel now. He wants so badly to know how they taste. But it’s not a good idea. It’s not a good time. It’s — fake, Billy. He has to remind himself that what they are doing is just playing pretend and once Christmas is over and her mom is gone, all they will be is friends. And that’s enough. It needs to be. Having a friend in her and in Rosie, that’s not only enough, that’s plenty. That’s grand.

“ Okay, let’s do it ! We should make a plan though. “ 

“ A plan ? “

“ Yeah like, where we met. How long we’ve been together. You know that kinds stuff. Have our stories match. “ 

“ Alright, when do you wanna do this ? “ 

“ You up for a movie night? “ 

“ Tonight ? “ 

“ Yup. I even have some cold beers in the fridge and microwave popcorn in my cupboard.“ 

“ Well if there’s beer and popcorn — “

“ Great, let's go ! “ 

It’s not the booze and the snacks that draw him in though. It’s her smile. Her enthusiasm. Her.

It’s Christmas day, the lights are twinkling in the window, the tree is set up, there’s a turkey in the oven and (Y/N), well she’s a full on mess. 

Billy is sitting by the dining table, Rosie next to him in her high seat munching away on some spongy baby cookies. Big bright eyes trained on her mother who nervously paces around the living room. 

“ Let’s go through it one last time. We met when you moved in and I asked you to take a look at my broken AC unit. “ 

“ Mmh. “ 

“ Then we hung out whenever something was broken and you fixed it for me. Makes you seem reliable and handy. “

“ I am reliable and uh — pretty good with my hands. “ Billy says and smirks.

(Y/N) raises her brow. 

“ I am ! I work as a mechanic you know. “ 

“ Not what the look was about but sure. So we’ve been properly dating for 4 months now. Rosie loves you, which isn’t even a lie. “ 

Billy’s heart soars at that. Rosie really does seem to adore him. Always smiling and demanding for him to hold her. Billy’s spent quite some time at their place lately, puzzling together a life for him and (Y/N) that would satisfy her mother’s expectation. A life hat makes him wish it could ever become reality. 

“ So we decided Christmas was a good time for her to meet you. “ 

“ Yup. “ 

“ Jesus Christ, I’m gonna faint. “ (Y/N) groans, fingers nervously combing through her hair. Billy gets up, places a kiss on Rosies head then walks over towards (Y/N).

Gently he takes her by her shoulders and turns her to face him. There’s a fear in her eyes he’s never seen before. A vulnerability almost palpable in the air. She’s exuding anxiety and he knows what it feels like. It’s the constant state he was living in when still in Hawkins. He wishes so badly that he could take it from her. Load it onto himself and rid her of it all. Thought life is no magical fairytale. 

“ (Y/N) calm down. We got this, okay ? “ 

She regards him for a second, eyes drowning in his, as if she’s looking straight into his soul, his heart.

“ You think ? “ 

“ I know! Do you trust me ? “ 

Without hesitation she nods, sending his heart into overdrive. 

“ Good ! Now uh — there’s something else we should figure out. “ 

“ What’s that ? “ 

“ Do we hold hands ? Do we — kiss ? “ 

“ I guess uh — I guess we should, right ? To make is seem real  ? “ 

“ If it doesn’t make you uncomfortable. “ 

“ Oh no. No we’re friends, right ? “ 

“ Right. “ 

“ So it shouldn’t be awkward, right ? “ 

Wrong. It’s very awkward. Not because he doesn’t wanna kiss her. Exactly the opposite actually.

“ Right. Do you wanna try it right now?  Get the first one over with so we don’t look awkward in front of your mom ?” 

“ That sounds like a good idea. “

It’s not and Billy is well aware of this. Once he finds out what her lips taste like, the ones he wanted to kiss since he first laid eyes on her, he won't be able to forget it. 

But Billy’s never been known for making smart decisions. So he softly pulls her closer by her waist, gently cradles her face in one of his hands and nuzzles his nose against hers.

There’s absolutely nothing awkward about this, in fact, he’s never felt like this ever before. His heart is beating faster, faster, faster. He wants her to take the last step. Give her the power over this. Even if it’s just pretending. Even if it’s just for today. She needs to be in charge of it. This is all for her. Even if it breaks his heart to think about this ending.

It’s hesitant at first, he almost doesn’t feel it until she pushed on a little harder. Her lips are soft and smooth and warm. She tastes like — well (Y/N). There’s no fireworks or butterflies but the true and honest realisation that he is in love with this girl. And that’s the goddamn mess he wanted to avoid.

She kisses him once, twice, three times. To make it realistic, right ? To make it believable. Billy gets absolutely lost in it, in her lips on his, in her hands in his hair — in her. 

That’s until the doorbell rings.

Her mom seems nice enough, reserved sure, but that was expected. She talks a lot, mostly small talk. About Christmas and the weather and how nice California is. She asks about Billy’s family, talks about hers. She tells him stuff about family members (Y/N) has never even mentioned before and yet her mother deems it appropriate to air their dirty laundry to Billy.

She starts a conversation about Rosie, which is the one topic Billy feels confident talking about. Though she’s not his, he’s proud of her. She’s one of the few good things he has in his life right now and talking about her, being granted this little piece of happiness and feeling like he is involved there, part of something, it means more than he will ever be able to express.

Rosie is a real gem as well. Constantly asking to be held, not by her mother or grandmother but by Billy. It’s as if she knows they’re trying to sell something here. Trying to create a vision of something, the image of a happy little family or 3. 

The idea of something Billy never had but so desperately wants. The one thing that always has been missing.

“ Uh, she adores him. Wants to be in his arms all the time.“ (Y/N) tells her mother as she hands her a glass of wine. Rosie is cuddled into Billy’s arms as if she always belonged right there.

“ I can see that, those two are two peas in a pot huh ? “ 

“ Totally. Makes me a bit jealous sometimes, those two “ (Y/N) jokes, a smile gracing her lips. A real one. A radiant one.

“ Is that so ? “ Billy asks. It feels like every boundary they set, every rule they put in place, is suddenly made of watercolor, spreading and smudging and bleeding into one another. The lines are slowly but surely starting to blur in his mind and he needs to remind himself that this is just pretend. They’re friends. This is fake. This is fake. 

“ Sure is, babe “ she winks then returns to the kitchen to get the turkey out of the oven. 

It’s fake, right ?!

The small talk ceases as they enjoy the food. God, not only is she perfect in itself, she’s also an amazing cook. If it is possible, Billy falls even more in love with her. If only this didn’t have to end.

“ So Billy, you and my daughter, huh. Let me tell you when she told me about you I wasn’t sure what to think. “ (Y/N)’s mother starts talking again once the dinner is devoured. She moves her finger along the rim of her wineglass like some cheesy villain from an action flick or a disney movie. 

“ Okay. “ what does one say to something like that.

“ Mom. “ 

“ No, no let me finish. “ 

“ Mom, please. “ The anxiety is back in (Y/N)’s voice and in her eyes. Without thinking about it, Billy grabs her hand underneath the table. To his surprise, she squeezes back, doesn’t pull away. Maybe friends can do things like this without pretending. Maybe just for shared comfort. 

“ I’m not gonna say anything bad, (Y/N). Don’t be silly. I think you two are — good for each other. Good for Rosie. “ 

“ You are ? “ 

“ Yes. Yes I really am.  “ 

She squeezes his hand again. He hopes this one’s a good one, from excitement not anxiety.

“ I just wish you would trust me more. I wish you’d let me into your life. Tell me stuff. Not just when you two met but that romantic stuff that daughters talk to their moms about. Like when you knew you were in love with Billy. All that kind of stuff. “ 

“ I knew I was in love with her the first time I heard her sing. “ 

The word burst out of him like vomit. Like a tidal wave crashing against the shore with wrath and fury. It’s not a lie, in fact, it’s a truth he’s been holding onto for a while now. This might be more of a confession to himself than to anyone else.

(Y/N) looks at him with shock and surprise written all over her face. There’s a tiny smile pulling at the corner of her lips though it’s hardly noticeable and the confusion in her eyes makes Billy wonder if what he just said was the wrong thing. 

“ I’ve never sang to you, babe. “ 

“ Not to me but to Rosie. I hear you singing to her through the walls. They’re paperthin. I fall asleep to you singing sometimes. “ 

Her eyes. God, her eyes. Everything good in the world is caught in her eyes. In the depth of them. The warmth of them. In the way they look at him as if she sees him. Completely. For all that he is and all that he ever wants to be. 

She’s very good at pretending, he has to admit. It only makes it harder for him to remind himself that none of this is real. It’s all a game of pretend. It’s all fake.

“ You hear me sing to Rosie ? And you like it ? “ 

“ I love it. “ 

She kisses him then and it both mends and breaks his heart simultaneously. 

“ Well I fell in love with Billy the moment he first held Rosie. “ (Y/N) tells this to her mother though her eyes never leave his.

Billy remember the first time he held Rosie, it wasn’t all that long ago. After they had decided on their little game of pretend. (Y/N) had asked him to keep an eye on her while she went to have a shower. So for a while Billy and Rosie just sat on the couch watching some weird kid tv show. That’s until Rosie decided to crawl up on his lap, then pull herself up to wrap her little arms around his neck. 

He was hesitant then, to react, to do anything. Afraid of doing the wrong thing. She’s so small, so fragile. If anything happened to her — if he did one wrong move.

But as she started wobbling he couldn’t but hold onto her. Stop her from falling. Keep her steady. The way she rested in his arms then felt more right than anything in his life had ever felt. She looked up at him with her gorgeous eyes then, and she smiles her one-tooth smile. And it opened his heart in ways he had never known before.

“ You talked to her. You looked at her like she was the world and you told her stuff. Talked to her like you would to someone who understands what you’re talking about. She was hanging onto your every word. I knew I loved you then because you loved her. “ 

It hits him like a lightning flash straight to the heart. What he told Rosie then, was that he’d never held a baby before. That she was the first baby he ever cuddled. That Max had already been a child when they met the first time. He told her about Max and how sorry he was and that he missed her even though he’d never admit that to anyone else. But he knew then that Rosie wouldn’t judge because she didn’t understand. It felt good talking to someone about it even if that someone was a 1 year old.

“ I do “ Billy replies “ love her, I mean. “ 

“ I know. I think she knows too. “ 

He hopes she does. Wherever life takes them, he wants Rosie to know that for as long as they get together, he loved her and he loved her mom.

Later that night, Rosie asleep in her bed and (Y/N)’s mother on her way home, Billy and (Y/N) settle down on her couch.

A silence engulf them that is thick with words unspoken yet it’s not uncomfortable, not really. They both know, right then. They know that whatever game they had been playing wasn’t really a game at all. Maybe all of the pretending wasn’t for (Y/N)’s mother at all. Maybe the pretending was for themselves. Pretending like this was all fake. Like it meant nothing. Like they could ever go back to being friends.

Billy’s head rests on (Y/N) legs as she softly combs her fingers through his golden curls.

“ That went well huh ? “ 

“ I’d say so. “ 

Silence again. Then the clearing of a throat. A sigh.

“ Billy I — “ 

“ I meant it. “ 

“ Huh ? “ 

Billy closes his eyes, not able to look at her as the words assemble themselves on his tongue ready to be spoke. Too long have they been locked in his heart. It’s time he says them with all the truth and none of the pretending.

“ That I fell in love with you when I heard you sing. That I am in love with you. That I love Rosie. “ 

She stops her hand for a second. He can feel her breathing in deeply. Evaluating. Thinking. Wondering.

“ If you don’t feel the same that’s fine. I’m a big boy, we can be just friends and I’ll be fine with that. “ 

The she resumes the combing of her fingers through his hair. Gentle strokes, slight tugs. It feels wonderful. Heavenly.

“ I meant it too, you know. Every single word. “ 

Billy leans his head back to look up at her. They smile, both of them. He thinks this is his favorite of her smiles. The one she puts on when she’s in love. In love with him — holy shit.

Rosie’s small cries shake them out of their romantic bliss before (Y/N) gets up and hurries towards her room. A few moments she returns, the little girl cuddled tightly into her arms.

“ Look who wanted to join us. “ 

As Rosie lifts her head and catches sight of Billy she tiredly stretches her little arms out to him. Billy takes her from (Y/N), cuddling her into his chest while placing kisses on her head.

“ Hey little one. You wanted to hang out with mommy and me, huh ? Wanted to get some love too ? “ 

(Y/N) settles back down in her seat on the couch, hand going back to Billy’s head as Rosie rest softly on his chest. And as (Y/N) stars to quietly sing a song he’s heart through the wall so many times before, Billy thinks that maybe happy families can exist. This one right here, has never been happier. It’s small and puzzled together and they all come with messes that have to be dealt with and obstacles that have to be overcome. But it’s good. It’s so good.

And it’s his. 

[gleefail]

Glee Memories: 1x6 Vitamin D

A long, long time ago, as Glee was approaching graduation in Season 3, I found myself nostalgic with some rare free time on my hands. So I decided to rewatch the series from the beginning and jot down some memories, discrepancies that have arisen since, fave quotes, tally solos - all that good stuff, strictly for shits and giggles.

8 years later (eek!) and once more I find myself with an unexpected abundance of free time. With so many revisiting or being newly introduced to the show between binge watching during Quarantine and all the tragedy that has surrounded the show since it went off the air, I figured I’d finish what I started. And by finish, I mean go through the end of S3. Cause I truly cannot acknowledge what happened after that. Except for 5B.

Kicking this off by reposting the first 15 episodes I already went through. Enjoy!

1x6 Vitamin D Mr. Schue is worried cause the Glee club is being lazy and complacent. First time and still true until Sue came along to help the club.

Mmmmkay. And now Mercedes starts dressing kinda funky. Oh goody. :/

Ugh. Listen, I have adored Matthew Morrison since I saw him in Hairspray 10 years ago, but it’s still not at all appealing when he tries to lick that mustard off his own chin.

“I will hold my tongue no further.”

”You have to remember something: we’re dealing with children. They need to be terrified. It’s like mother’s milk to them. Without it, their bones won’t grow properly.”

“Ellen, that blouse is just insane.”

”I don’t understand how lightening is in competition with an above ground swimming pool”

BOYS V. GIRLS FOR THE FIRST TIME! <3

“Okay, split up: guys on the right side, girls on the left side…Kurt” *gestures for him to join the boys, not the girls* Kurt looks soooo pissed. And is such a baby-faced nugget!

A Mash-Up was just defined and used for the first time.

”We’re planning on smacking them down like the hand of God” yaaaaay, Sue’s Journal entries! I miss those. Hey, did she ever get that hovercraft she was working towards?

”Let me be frank: your husband is hiding his kielbasa in a Hickory Farms gift basket that doesn’t belong to you.”

”I’ve always thought the desire to procreate showed deep personal weakness. Me? Never wanted kids. Don’t have the time, don’t have the uterus.” #oops

“I think you should both pack up and move out of the district. Unless you wanna lose your man to a mentally ill ginger pygmy with eyes like a bush baby”

the Matthew Morrison mustard licking is even less appealing in slow motion. Ew.

Terri just wiped Emma’s mug off with her own spit. Even if you didn’t have OCD, that is not right.

“But you’re not a nurse. You don’t have any training…” “Oh please, Will – it’s a public school.”

Wait…Mr. Schue seems to be teaching music theory? WTF? Has this happened before? Since?

“She freaks me out in a Swim Fan kinda way”

“But her body’s smokin’…if you’re not into boobs” Finn re: Rachel

I don’t think I ever caught this before – Finn is rubbing BioFreeze on his legs and accidentally scratches near his eye…and you can see the effect set in and then he spazzes out. Ha! #BlessFinnsHeart

“My mom says I’m stretched too thin so I gave up homework but that didn’t help” #BlessFinnsHeart

“Puck, with respect, you’re more helpful when you don’t contribute”

“Where’s Quinn?” “Probably down at the mall looking for elastic waistbands”

“Let’s do the number and then build a house for Habitat for Humanity” oh, Finn on ‘vitamin d’. He has the mind of a child. Especially during this performance. Holy crap!

“No one at Glee is gonna judge you.” Oh, that will change Rachel.

Hahahaha, Quinn drew pornographic pictures of Rachel on the bathroom walls. I miss when Quinn hated Rachel. Just a little bit. Cause she did it so well and right now it would please my soul to see some of that.

Poor Howard Bamboo is so terrified of Terri and just pitiful. I just want to hug him and tell him to stand up to her! :(

“I see em’ together all the time – laughing, talking…all the stuff she never does with me”

Terri’s office looks like it’s the same as Emma’s…

“I am not built to work 5 days a week”

“I’ve been thinkin’ maybe that if you and I started seein’ each other on the side it might kinda cancel their thing out”

“She doesn’t like to be touched…by me.”

“Look at the two of us. You pregnant and me with psoriasus and one testicle that won’t descend.”

“Though I’ve been grouped with the boys, my allegiance still remains with you ladies. They declined my offer to do their hair in cornrows and all my artistic decisions have been derioted as ‘too costly’ because they involve several varieties of exotic bird feathers.”

Rachel’s goal is a Grammy, not a Tony. #oops

smack-talking Finn is a giant douche. Ugh.

“You being here is not good for our marriage.” “Spending time together is not good for our marriage?” She has a point…

“A lot of ants on the sidewalk today.” *long uncomfortable silence* “Pretty late in the season for that.”

oh, Ken proposing. I hated you from the first moment I laid eyes on you.

“Look, Emma, I know our relationship hasn’t been perfect. You won’t ride in my car. I can’t touch you above the wrist. Remember you cried for an hour that one time my elbow accidentally brushed by your breast? But I think about you all day long. I kiss that picture of us at the State Fair every night before I go to sleep. Emma Pillsbury, this is not an engagement ring – no, I mean it is, but it’s more than that. It’s a promise. Look, Emma, I know you have this thing about being clean. Now I can’t promise to pick up my underwear or squeegee the shower door, but I can promise to keep your life clean of sadness and loneliness and any other dark clouds that might float into it. It’s cubic zirconia. I know how effected you were by Blood Diamond.”

“Thankyousomuch,itreallyisapleasure.Whiletheboyschoseaselectionofsongsthatcastaneyeinwardontheirresponsiblelifechoicesandsexualhungeroftoday’smodernteens,wehavechosenaselectionofsongsthatspeakstothenationasawholeduringthesetroublingtimesfilledwitheconomicuncertaintyandunbridledsocialwoebecauseifthere’stwothingsAmericaneedsrightnow,thatissunshineandoptimism.” *awkward pause and Rachel finally breathes* “Also angels.” OMG. Maybe my favorite Rachel Berry moment ever.

Also, this was one of my fave musical moments (songs, singers, choreography) of all of Season One. Heather Morris is gangsta on this, dancing like she’s on crack. OMG. I love it. Every one of these girls is such a great dancer.

“Can you um…can you think of any other options I might have?” “Is that a reason to marry someone?” “That’s not what I’m asking.” See, Glee still does this – these weird conversations that are clearly about something else, but never really get finished and things are left in limbo but as if the akward moment didn’t happen, so I think I’m losing my mind when I look for the continuity….ugh. Headache. What just happened?

“You have no chance with my husband. Do I make myself clear? You might think there’s some kind of competition going on with you and I, but that’s like saying that a nail is competing with a hammer.”

“Do yourself a favor, honey. Marry Ken Tanaka. Oh sure, he’s dumb like sand, and his fondue pot of nationalities is gonna open your kids up to a host of genetic diseases…but he’s kind, and he’s generous. And he’s available.” I don’t like Terri but….truth.com right there.

“I need to talk to you, about the baby” “Is everything ok? You’re not having it right now, are you?” What?! No! Aren’t you supposed to be a nurse?”

“You want money from me?” “It’s gonna be your baby.” “Which means I’m gonna be paying the bills for 18 years – I think you can handle 9 months” Oh Terri.

Aw. My heart still breaks for Emma during this scene where she basically accepts Ken’s proposal and asks for a secret marriage. And says she doesn’t wanna spend the rest of her life alone. Gah – so sad! :(

“I don’t even remember performing.”

“I’m sorry for what I said the other day. For calling you contemptable and deplorable” “Ah, that’s ok. I didn’t even know what those words meant.” #BlessFinnsHeart

“My goals are too selfish.” Rachel. Why did you forget that lesson?

Howard Bamboo got arrested on suspicion of running a meth lab. Ha!

“You are oblivious to consequences” A running theme of this show.

oh Glee. Again with the weird situations…neither Will nor Emma even preTENded to be happy about her marrying Ken when she told him. How does neither of them address it? What just happened?

I remember the first time I saw this episode and I loved that Rachel Berry had changed to being a team player and making her goal about winning sectionals with the team. That didn’t last long. SOLOS: Finn (1), Artie (1), Rachel (1) MERCEDES TAKES THE GLORY NOTE: 2nd time

[mrsq8geek]

Advice for an aspiring author hoping to write lgbt muslim characters?

Hi, thanks for your question!  This is quite the rabbit hole, so I can't cover everything, but I did my best.  Some general guidelines and then my own view:

1. Do not write this story unless it is from personal experience or with the direct express written permission from the person it’s based on, and I hesitate with that second one.  Like many other experiences, this story hasn’t been told all that often, so unless you’re one of the above, you don’t have many points of reference and will probably get it wrong and, I suspect, as ‘exotic’.

That said:

2.  Start by examining yourself. One of my favourite resources is @writingwithcolor​, which has many great references for this.  At this point, we're asking questions such as "Why do you not want to represent us?" and "Why do you need to tell this story right now?" among others.  Do check it out.

3.  Please, please don't write an apologetic acceptably assimilated model minority.  I don't know where you're from, or where you intend to set the story, but we're all influenced by American media, so I feel it's important to mention.  We generally don't have positive feelings towards those characters, let alone relating to them, at least not to the aspects where they're supposed to represent us.

(My personal pet peeve example is Abed Nadir from Community, a Muslim enamoured with Christmas and is an all-around Acceptable Arab... played by an Indian actor.  It's extra irking because the show was touted as being Better Than Big Bang Theory, and it seemed okay addressing many other nuances, but when it came to this? Think of it this way: why didn't they cast an Asian actress to play Britta or Annie and called her white? Or, indeed, an Indian actress to play Shirley and called her black? Because clearly they believe the audience can't tell the difference? Arabs are black or white but not brown, guys.  Not all Arabs are Muslims and vice versa.  Some Muslims are (gasp!) white.)

Anyway, the point is Abed, and others like him, are non-threatening.  They reject their own identity and are desperate to be Just Like Us Default White People.  While this is definitely the case for some people, 1. it's not the case for most people, 2. it's just a really tired trope especially in current times, and 3. the other side of this trope’s coin is that in order to be acceptable for The West, they have to rebel against their character’s original identity, which is just as tired.

But I digress.  You already know by asking this question that it’s controversial.  Why not play it straight instead?  Pun unintended.  Do your research, whatever way you choose to go. 

4.  Speaking of doing your research, do. your. research! Muslims are a diverse group of about 2 billion people*.  There are two major sects and many smaller ones.  In the major ones, homosexuality (etc) is a sin, haram, full stop, end of sentence.  Any level of presenting like the opposite gender is not only haram, it’s cursed.  Yes, there are many people coming up with exceptions and loopholes, or just doing what they want regardless, and if you want to write about them, that's your prerogative, but:

* so Kamala Khan, for example, is completely unrelatable to me. (See: 9)

5.  You know what else is considered haram in majority Islam? Extra-marital sex.  Pork.  Alcohol.  Drugs, yes including cannabis, in fact even nutmeg.  People do all that anyway! Especially in non-Muslim-majority countries where the laws don’t make it harder for them, or in poorer Muslim-majority countries where people don’t get educated in religious matters, or indeed all over everywhere because not all people of any religion actively practice that religion.  It's a non-issue by this point. 

5A. The only reason LGBT Muslims is An Issue, and it’s An Issue Now, is because America’s making it one.  It’s no different than, say, modern white feminism.  They stir the pot, we deal with the mess.

5B. Muslims are people, and people aren't perfect. We know this, and we've addressed it as nauseam… and that’s just it, we’re allowed* to talk about these things because we know ourselves and our experiences.  It’s more acceptable coming from us to us because we have a common ground to start discussing things.

* I wrote allowed, but it really depends on the situation. Sometimes you’re not allowed simply because you don’t want to make it an issue, and that’s okay too.

5C. Since you’re asking, I’m assuming you’re not a Muslim yourself, and that puts a layer on scrutiny on you.  We don’t know where to begin to talk to you, and it’s worse if you represent us in any controversial way or in any way less than perfect.  Less than perfect by whose standards? It depends. Nobody knows! (See: 3)

5D. Examine yourself, research the topic, and know just what you’re trying to say.

6.  That said, here’s my personal take on it that I’d love to see someone do, but haven’t so far.  I don’t know how people arrive at their sexuality, whether it’s by nature or nurture, but they do end up there one way or another.  When it comes to Islam, you’re highly encouraged to (heterosexually, to be clear) marry and reproduce.  You’re discouraged from sex outside that framework.  If you are unable to marry for whatever reason, you’re supposed to find a way to deal with it. Fasting is often recommended.

And the way I see it, finding yourself not being attracted to the opposite gender is just one reason to not marry.  “So I NEVER get to have sex?” Yes, just like your straight brothers and sisters who realize they can never marry for their own reasons. Maybe their health prevents them. Maybe they have family depending on them, especially financially, and they realize can’t add a husband or wife into the mix. Maybe they’re incompatible with the person they wanted.  

The West worships Romantic Love (also money, but that’s another thing), but it really isn’t everything in life*.  Just see any post here on tumblr dot com discussing the different kinds of love the Romans acknowledged and wrote about extensively.  Yes, it’s a powerful drive, but again, it’s not the only thing in life, and coming to that realization is its own journey.

* (Something something Harry Potter)

I am so, so sick and tired of characters who don’t practice their religion (“hi, I’m Muslim/Jewish/Christian/Hindu/Buddhist/whatever, but I will have that pork, that beef cheeseburger, whatever”*), and equally tired of characters who are the personification of their religion (“hi, I’m religious, hear me act out my stereotypes”). Don’t get me started on characters who exist just so the authors can bash that religion.  

* a recent disappointing example was the show Crazy Ex Girlfriend.  When Rebecca is first introduced, I was excited to learn the show was about a Jewish character, finally a religious character portrayed as practicing!  But it was quickly revealed they were focusing on the cultural aspects, and not only is she non-practicing, she doesn’t even believe any god exists.  Snore. In contrast, see: Shepherd Book from the show Firefly.  Not just a practicing Christian, an actually interesting character in his own right.  Not a perfect person by far, but someone who’s doing his utmost to live his life and still maintain his faith. 

I want a Muslim character who finds themselves attracted to whomever, someone from the same gender or whatever you want, or feeling like they want to present as not their birth gender, and then proceeds to do what so many of us real-life Muslims do: find ways to deal with it and come to terms with it.  Acknowledge it and make peace with it.  Make the choice, the conscious decision, to remain faithful to their beliefs and maybe not pursue a romantic relationship with the other person… and instead interact with them like a human being they care about.  Help them reach a goal or achieve a dream, keep them safe from harm, something.  Maybe focus on the traits of the other gender that are accessible, or fight the toxic effects of the patriarchy, something.  Writing like “a happy ending == they end up together”, and any and all other outcomes are Bad and Tragic and Void, is boring and unrealistic.

Just as a black woman being soft and feminine is a rebellion against the mainstream, a religious character sticking to their faith above all else is way more interesting than yet another character breaking the rules.

Addendums:

7. “But Islam is homophobic?” No, Islam has rules against intentionally engaging in specific behaviors.  You’re not faulted for having low alcohol tolerance, you’re faulted for the act of consumption. You’re not faulted for being addicted to drugs, you’re faulted for making the decision to try it the first time, or if you were tricked into it, for not trying to get clean once you’re there.  However!  People, all people, hashtag not just Muslims, often try to enforce rules by creating fear and hatred around them.  It’s a convenient societal shorthand, even if the consequences can be different than intended.  It’s the same mechanism that leads to “abstinence = zero sex ed” in the US.  Abstinence isn’t the issue, people trying to enforce it by making information around sex opaque are the ones causing problems.

So some Muslim people end up homophobic, and some Muslim people go all in the other direction, because the balance is delicate and difficult to find.  

8. “LGBT stories aren’t just about sex, what about asexuals, transsexuals, etc?” True, but most LGBT stories tend to go in that direction, and I’m keeping it as broad as I can here.

9. Even if your character is Muslim but not Arab, it’s probably going to come up, in your research if not in your story.  Although the most populous Muslim nation is Indonesia and the most famous “Muslim” terrorists are Afghani, the most prominent Muslim sites are in Saudi Arabia and Palestine.  The branding is there.  With that in mind, required reading is the film Reel Bad Arabs, and any primers you can find on Orientalism, Colonialism, and Imperialism.

***

Honourable mentions:

Check out the Saudi series Masameer by Myrkott on YouTube, many episodes have subtitles. They recently made a movie and it's on Netflix internationally!  You can't escape American Imperialism any more than you can escape British Colonialism*, but we're all way past being enamoured by them.  The Emirati series Freej is also in Youtube, sans subtitles, though the DVDs have them, and I’ll leave it at that.  Hashtag quarantine let us catch up on shows?  Stay safe, stay home.

* she said, in English.

[ionlycareaboutyou]

11, Blunder Reunion Kiss!! :D

i decided to write the missing scene where gob realizes tony is still alive (since there was a part of 5b where he became aware of tony not being dead) and the subsequent reunion kiss! forgive me if i made any timeline inaccuracies or anything else, i haven’t seen 5b in a little while! still, i had fun writing this and i hope y’all enjoy reading it! fic under cut as always

Gob was on his way home from a day workingat Fakeblock--well, it was hardly a day, to be honest. He was in his office forno more than 5 hours, and most of that time was spent listening to his SadPlaylist (which included the likes of The Cars, Simon & Garfunkel,and “Love of my Life” by Queen). He figured he would crash at the modelhome that night. When he walked through the door, his whole body sagged as hesighed in relief. No one was home—no one to bother him while he wallowed in self-pity.

Gob had never really experienced a death inhis life like this before. He was around when Tracey died, and he was sad, ofcourse. Everyone in the family was. But he wasn’t in love with Tracey. She was pretty, definitely the prettiest girlMichael had ever been with—distinctly not a dog. But he didn’t forgeteverything around him when he looked at Tracey. Then again, he had never feltlike that with anyone until Tony. It had been hard to accept; even now, he waskind of confused as to what he was supposed to be, gay or straight. He hadslept with both, tons of times. With the Gay Mafia breathing down his back, itwasn’t easy to decide. He was already thinking too deeply, and he had come hometo forget everything else. Maybe it hadn’t been the best choice, though,considering how many memories of him and Tony this house held. Gay or straightor whatever, that had been the bestsex of Gob’s life.

Stop thinking about Tony, Gob toldhimself, flicking on the TV and attempting to zone out. He successfully managedto fix his gaze on a spot just past the TV and let his mind go blank. It wasn’tuntil the third ring that he noticed his phone was ringing at all.

And the word “Tony” (with a purple heartand a sparkle emoji next to it) was flashing on the screen.

“What the hell?” Gob mumbled to himself. Hehad to be dreaming. Tony was dead. He dragged his body home. He hadn’tuncovered it, of course, he was too scared to see the dead face of the man whogot away from him. Maybe that Judy Garland lady that gays loved so much reallymade a point when she sang that song.

With shaking hands, Gob pressed accept onhis phone screen, and held it up to his ear. “Hello…?”

“Hi,” replied a breathless voice, which wasdistinctly, undeniably Tony.

“Who is this? Is this some kind of sicktrick? Leave me alone, I’m tired of all of you, I just want to be alone,” Gobsaid, stammering the whole way through.

“Gob, Gob, Gob,” the voice on the other endsaid, attempting to be soothing, but Gob didn’t calm down until he heard“Gobie”. No one called him Gobie, ever, except Tony.

So it really was him.

“Tony? What do you want?” Tears werestinging Gob’s eyes, nearly falling down his cheeks, but he tried desperatelyto hold them back.

“I wanted to say…hi. I’m alive.”

The tears fell. “Oh my God, you’re alive.” He sobbed.

“I know. And I’m…sorry.” The tone of Tony’svoice made it evident that apologizing was not something he normally did, butit was sincere. Even if it wasn’t, Gob was so glad to hear his voice hewould’ve accepted it a million times over.

“Tony, where are you? I was so scared. Ithought…I carried your body, Tony, I threw it in the river! Well, technically,I had my brother throw it in the river, but—”

“I’m in Missouri. Branson.”

Gob halted. Where the hell was Missouri?Wasn’t it in the south? Didn’t they hate gays in the south? Why was Tony there?Was he shipped off to conversion therapy? Did it work? Was he calling to breakup? Gob didn’t realize he was hyperventilating again until Tony started makingthose soothing “shh” sounds into the phone. “Hey, I’m okay. I promise, no onehurt me or anything. I just…have to perform in this musical under this contractthe Gay Mafia gave me. I guess pretending to be gay gets you a spot in Guys andDolls.”

“How long does the contract go for?” Gobdidn’t really understand musical theatre, but he knew a lot about contracts,and circumventing them. He could weasel his way out of anything, he was sure he could figure out something forTony. But he was getting ahead of himself. “Ah, I mean…if you want to come backto California.”

“Please, God, I want to come back so bad. Missouri is terrible. Everyone hasthese ugly accents, the pay is lousy, and Guys and Dolls isn’t even that goodof a show. The contract is for the next month.”Tony sounded like this was the end of the world, which Gob found completelyreasonable.

“I’m gonna figure something out,” Gob said,no hesitation in his voice. He didn’t stop to ask what was in it for him or ifTony could pay him back. After all, he would get to see Tony again if he couldmanage to pull this off. That’s all he wanted. “I’ll make some calls, see whatI can do.”

“Gob, oh my God, you’re the best.”

“I-I’ll try my best, okay?” He said, justin case he let Tony down. “And I don’t know how long it’ll take, but—”

“It’s okay. I mean it’s not like I’m beingtortured up here, unless you count having to practice ‘Sit Down, You’re Rockingthe Boat’ over and over torture.” Tony laughed dryly.

“I…don’t know what that is, but I’ll getyou out of there.”

“I could marry you right now. Not evenjoking.”

Gob’s chest tightened. He had to stop himselffrom replying enthusiastically and making plans to go to the city hall as soonas Tony came back. “Too bad we’re not really gay, right? Haha…”

“Yeah, damn, it sucks,” Tony said. “I haveto go; we have a cast meeting in an hour. Call me if you have any updates?”

“Yeah, of course,” Gob replied, quicklyadding before Tony hung up, “I’m really glad you’re alive, you know.”

“I’m glad, too. Thank you, Gob. See yousoon.”

Gob wiped the last few stray tears from hischeeks and smiled. He never thought he would get to hear Tony say anything tohim—or anything at all. Listening to his voice made Gob forget everything elsein the world, for just a moment.

A week or so later, Gob was waiting behindthe wall he would climb up for his illusion, clearing his public image andbecoming a straight man. He paced back and forth, waiting for Tony, a thoughtin the back of his mind nagging at him that Tony wasn’t going to show. He hadcleared his contract, and Tony had sounded really grateful and happy, but thatcould’ve been fake, and he could’ve run off somewhere, now that he was free. Hewas starting to lose all hope when he heard footsteps approaching and anexcited voice call out “Gob!!”.

Gob’s whole demeanor brightened—he stood upstraighter, his eyebrows raised, his smile was as bright as the California sunabove them. “Tony!” he said, nearly getting the wind knocked out of him as Tonywrapped him up in a hug.

“Oh my God,you’re here! I’m so glad to see you!” Tony said, burying his face in Gob’sshoulder, and before he could reply, Tony stood on his tiptoes and kissed himlong and hard. It was kind of a not-straight thing to do, but neither of themcould care any less at the moment. They were holding each other so tightly it would’vebeen impossible to break them apart, and when they finally forced themselves to,they were breathless and grinning so hard both their faces hurt. It wasn’t allthat gay to kiss your friends after you hadn’t seen them in a long time, right?It was perfectly normal, really.

“Listen, the illusion is gonna start soon,so we should probably…get ready and all.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Tony didn’t seem to want topull away. “We’ll talk more after the show, right? I mean, if I can get Sallyoff my back. She’s been crawling back to me.”

“Oh man, I know that feeling.” Gob replied. He did not. “Let’s do the bestgay-to-straight illusion ever.”

“Hell yeah, man!” They smiled at each otherone last time before running off to get ready for the show. Gob was elated,secretly hoping there would be more kisses like that in the future, even if itwas maybe a little gay.

[snowbellewells]

“When You Can’t Walk, I’ll Help You Stand”

By: @snowbellewells for Ouat Winter Whump

(This one shot takes place during 5B, but diverges in the episode where Emma finds Killian in Hades’ lair and gives them the time to piece Killian back together from his wounds and try to deal with what he’s been through.  This may veer more toward hurt/comfort, but I’ve never written a piece that sets out to specifically focus on the whump before, so it was a new challenge.  I hope you will - enjoy? That may not be the right word? - but at least find it worth reading.

I think this is probably still T-rated, but there are some descriptions of Hades’ tortures - a whipping, burning/branding, mental/emotional abuse and taunting - so do be aware of that.)

** Also: Thanks a million to @spartanguard who as my beta reader really shined this up and made it better, as well as being really encouraging and giving me further confidence about this one!! :)

“When You Can’t Walk, I’ll Help You Stand”

Emma couldn’t bring herself to dwell on what could happen to Milah as she waited with the boat, or where Gold had gotten off to and what sort of underhanded trickery he might even then be planning. She had taken a genuine liking to Killian’s first love as they’d trekked together into this deepest level of Hades’ nightmarish abode. Not only did they have the common purpose of rescuing the man they both loved, but there was a similar tough tenacity to the dark-haired woman, a hardened shell of armour formed from scars and a haunted look in her eyes that Emma understood all too well. Maybe it should have been awkward to be walking side-by-side with the woman Killian had given his heart to before her, or she could have felt threatened or possessive that Milah might endanger what she and Killian had when he saw her again, but that had not been the case at all. If anything, she had felt invigorated in her mission; if she could have anyone who would care as desperately about her goal as she did, she couldn’t have suggested anyone better. At the moment, that was really all she had room to worry over.

Instead, Emma vowed to get back to the other woman with their pirate as soon as possible, and she gathered Killian’s battered form toward herself gingerly, knowing as much as it pained her that any contact she made was only going to hurt him further. The sight of her love, the man she had given herself over to the Darkness trying to save, suspended in chains over the frighteningly roiling greenish pit of water, broken, bloodied and nearly insensate was a sight that wouldn’t fade away easily - in fact, she feared it might be permanently seared upon her mind’s eyes in horrific detail.

Her heart, still crammed up in her throat despite having reached him and managing to lower him to the strange metal dias where he slumped in her embrace, nearly choked her, blocking her airway with the not-yet-dissipated panic she’d felt for him being lowered into the seething river. Even as she tried to chuckle at his weakened, “You never listen to me, do you Swan?” she was still struggling to hold back her nausea at the state he was in, even as she tried to chuckle bravely for his sake and banter back, “And you love me for it.”

Her hands ached to brush along his cheek and trace over the beloved long-healed scar beneath his right eye. However, it wasn’t even visible to her through the dried blood caking large sections of his face and neck and the mottled array of yellowing, greenish and purple bruises that covered the rest. His dark leather beneath her trembling fingers was shredded in places across his back and shoulders and charred roughly in others. Where the material remained intact, she felt the stickiness of blood still wet over much of the surface and the roughly melted edges where the jacket seemed to have been burned - and she feared the same of his skin beneath.

“Come on, Killian,” she managed, her voice a mere breath at his ear, unable to muster more sound out of sheer stunned shock at the cruelty he had clearly endured. “Let’s get you out of here.” She didn’t want to hurt him further, but they had to get out of Hades’ lair and back to the others, the sooner the better. Trying to steel herself against the reaction she was sure he’d have, she slipped her hands under his arms, in hopes of lifting him to his feet and helping him stand.

As expected, a sharp hiss of breath escaped Killian’s parched lips before a bitten back groan made its way through his clenched teeth despite his determined efforts. Staggering slightly, she could feel his strained and abused muscles quivering as her pirate attempted to get his feet beneath him and aid her in supporting his weight. By pure reflex, Emma slipped an arm free and placed it on his lower back to brace him, but as soon as her palm made contact, a harsh cry of pain escaped him and he jerked away from the touch defensively, nearly buckling his knees and sending them both to the cold stone floor.

Killian’s eyes were squeezed shut, and his chest heaved for breath even as she grit her teeth and just barely managed to keep them upright. She couldn’t read his mind, but the way his body shuddered against her side told Emma he might well be revisiting some part of the trauma he had suffered over again. She kicked herself for having sent him into the episode and whispered apologies to him even as she tried to coax him into taking a first step toward freedom. Killian, however, was lost to the torrent of memories flooding his head…

His bound hands were jerked over his head, pulling him to stand straight, stretched almost onto his toes, by Hades’ magically conjured rope that held him inescapably tight and in position. Though youth and young adulthood in indentured servitude and most of a centuries-long life lived at sea as a pirate gave him a familiarity with what was surely coming, it didn’t stop the fear that rose in his chest, or the intense desire to struggle, to attempt escape, however impossible, from his bonds. The dry-mouthed fear and dread brought on by the probability of a lashing struck panicked dread into the most solid and stoutest of hearts, and he was no exception. Once he had felt that scourge slice across his skin - and his back bore the healed-over scars from how well, even ages since they had been given - he couldn’t help but tremble at the prospect, even if he gave no other sign of pleading or weakness.

He heard the whip whistle through the putrid, sulfuric air and the fiery lance of agony struck deep on impact, a stifled cry breaking past his lips despite how he tried to hold it back and deny his tormenter the satisfaction. Though it had been ages since the days he knew this punishment well - whether in retribution for a nicked crust of bread from the galley to silence his half-starved growing belly, or for oft-uttered self defense when mocked for being small, fatherless, unwanted and abandoned, which was taken as impertinence and punished accordingly - the bite of the braided leather, tearing into his flesh a bit more with each stroke had not lessened in impact, either physically or with the emotional pain of those long-buried memories.

After the fifth lash, he felt the skin break as the whip criss-crossed a previous cut one time too much for the skin to remain intact. The feel of blood running down his back and beginning to soak the waistband of his jeans was a minor discomfort compared to the pain flaring over his shoulders, down his spine and out across his sides, but the combination made bile rise in his throat and he could just barely choke back a sobbed plea for mercy. He could not even sag to partially relieve the pulling against the tautly stretched and ravaged skin and sinew of his back, nor could he flinch or try to shield the worst areas of his suffering.

Tears ran down his cheeks unbidden, and Killian could only grit his teeth and hope that the soot, sweat, open cuts, and dried blood hid the trails that would give away his break into emotion. When the lord of the Underworld cackled in twisted delight, Killian hated that he very well might know just how broken he was.

The fallen deity released the magical ties with a quick flourish, and Killian collapsed weakly to the stone floor beneath him, stubbornly only emitting a low grunt of pain at the contact with all his injured body. Somehow, regardless of the despair slowly sneaking into his spirit and mind as the relentless and unendingly shifting modes of torment continued without ceasing, he still managed to grit his teeth and glare back at Hades with the fire and resolve of a formidable pirate captain when the villain knelt next to his broken body and jerked his head up by the hair to hauntingly question, “Have you given up hope yet?”

With all the strength he could muster, Killian growled with true hatred in his eyes, “Never.”

And for a relieving moment, Hades left to find a new way to harrow him.

When he and Emma finally shuffled at last from the cavernous underground lair he had been trapped in since his death, Killian went to his knees, no longer able to put his feet forward and support his own weight, even with Emma’s urging and support. At least they were out of the dank, winding maze of darkness below, and Killian almost felt that in itself more a miracle than he would have expected, even if they weren’t free of this cursed realm yet.

Emma appeared puzzled when she managed to half-drag, half-steady him to a shore where an empty rowboat awaited them. It sent off concerned warning bells in Killian’s head to see her wild-eyed glance flit nervously from side to side and her mumble to herself, “Where are they?” His dazed mind fumbled through guilty confusion wondering who she had brought with her and dragged into danger on his undeserving behalf. At the same time, his tongue had been clumsy and thick with dehydration between all the sweat and tears he lost without a bit to drink. True, his no-longer-living system shouldn’t need rehydration, but it didn’t seem to convince his mind he wasn’t thirsty, especially after the fires and ravages of the last few days he had begun to fear would encompass his eternity.

Pushing past her confusion, Emma didn’t hesitate long on that bleak, rocky bank; somehow she had managed to force him up once again, if only long enough to help him drag his heaving carcass into the small vessel awaiting them and collapse in its stern as she took up an oar. “We’re almost out, Killian,” she whispered, grim determination in her voice as she began to paddle. “Rest. We’re going to get you out of here, I promise.”

Again, he wanted to protest, to insist he wasn’t worth it and that she should save herself and leave him to his fate, but his weakened body wouldn’t seem to allow him to think clearly enough to speak his mind with sense.

The next thing he knew, his eyes were blinking open again, as the boat bumped against another rocky outcropping, still not under open sky, but seeming less dark, less encroaching somehow. Emma was leaning over him a mere moment later, asking if he was with her, and seemed to want to touch him but was biting her bottom lip as her worried eyes scanned his form, as if not sure where to touch that wouldn’t add to his suffering.

Other voices began to filter into his awareness then; a gasp and pained exclamation of his name, the dismayed and teary “Oh, Killian!” clearly belonging to Snow White. He heard a low, angry curse that was no doubt his fellow reformed outlaw mate’s voice, and David’s was an added murmur, as if trying to direct the others.

“Can you get out of the boat?” Emma asked him gently.

He tried to focus his swimming vision on her face, and breathed a pitiful admission that he hated himself for uttering. “I’ll try, Love...but...I-I’m not sure I can walk any further…”

She blinked tears back at that, finally seeming to have decided to at least risk squeezing his hand for a moment within her own trembling touch. “That’s okay,” she managed hoarsely. “Just step out, and my dad and Robin are ready to help you.”

He somehow managed to heft himself up, wobbling more than he should, and stumbled out of the boat onto solid ground once more. Dave and Robin both reached out to steady him, and he felt Emma hovering at his back, but none of them were quite able to stop his fall as he crashed to his knees once more and was sucked into another reliving of his torture…

Hades’ minions, two burly demons not quite human or beast, but some grotesque amalgam he hesitated to ponder, forced him to his knees on Hades’ barked order. Much as he tried to resist, to fight back, he had already been kept for days without nourishment or rest, plagued by dreams of his not coming back to himself in time and letting Nimue strangle the life from his beautiful Swan, of leaving the mark to do its work and allowing her boy and the rest of her loved ones to suffer in this hell he now inhabited, and the certainty that if he could get back to those he had once thought might almost be his family too, they would turn from him one by one, having at last come to realize the darkness that had always haunted his soul. Killian didn’t know if his infernal jailer had sent these visions or if they would have beset him regardless after the way he had fallen to the Darkness and given it free reign, but they give him no quarter, and his spirit was wrung and weakened even before each new physical torment began.

The henchmen - he had the tiniest glimmer of solace at the momentary urge to call them Pain and Panic, remembering a distant better time when Henry had shown him the animated picture version of Hercules, Hades and the rest - had iron grips, and held him there on his knees, arms outstretched, unable to move or shield himself from whatever blow was coming next. His head lolled slightly forward, the slight drop in his guard and the thought of a happier memory made his reality all the more shattering, and it took him a moment to register the slight smoky scent in the air before Hades stepped into view with a burning, red hot brand in his grasp.  The exiled god watched recognition dawn in his prisoner’s eyes with sadistic glee. “You’ve been disappointingly stoic in the face of all my trials, Captain,” he mused leisurely, looking for all the world as if he were about to sit down for a pleasant tea rather than torture someone into madness and despair. “However,” he chuckled, leaning in to pat Killian’s roughly stubbled and bruised cheek, “I think this might just do the trick.”

He stood back up and without further warning shoved the brand into Killian’s side. The fiery agony caused Killian to buck fruitlessly against the arms holding him in place; a long, low keening sound ripped from his throat unbidden as the smell of his own flesh sizzling turned his stomach.

“Aha!” Hades crowed triumphantly, moving slightly behind Killian to next press the brand to the pirate’s opposite shoulder. The brand singed through the tattered remnants of his jacket, practically melting the material into his skin and making the pain linger even once the fiery instrument itself had been pulled back. “I had a feeling that would do the trick.”

Coming back to stand before his victim once more, Hades stopped to look at the man trying with all his might not to whimper or beg, still staring back at him with resistant hatred in those ice-chip blue eyes, the lord of the Underworld grinned insidiously as he jerked back the Captain’s already ripped-up sleeve to bare the dagger-pierced heart tattoo on his forearm. “Just one more, I believe.  A permanent reminder for Captain Hook,” he chortled in fiendish delight, “that you might as well give up your foolish hope. You failed them, just as you failed her.  You continually hurt, and eventually lost, anyone you ever dared to love.”

Killian flinched back into awareness of his present surroundings with a shattered cry. Pain still radiated from all the wounds that had throbbed in his nightmarish reverie, and it left him unsure of where he was or what was happening around him. There had been motion; he was certain that he had been moving, though not whether his own feet had been taking the steps. However, at the gasp which had escaped him and the whimpering which he realized gradually was coming from his own throat, everything had come to a halt.

Emma’s beautiful, golden hair and troubled face caught his sight as she moved to stand before him. Hesitantly placing her hands on either side of his face, her thumbs stroked his battered skin for several calming seconds. He couldn’t help the wince at even that most gentle contact, and yet he didn’t want her to stop. He tried to focus on her words and to nod in agreement when she murmured softly, “I know it hurts. I’m so sorry, Killian. But we’re almost there. Then we���ll let you rest, I swear.”

He realized that he was being mostly carried between David and Robin, his arms slung over their shoulders, and his head full of sweat and blood-matted hair lolled to the side and resting in the crook of the man he had hoped to call father-in-law’s neck. He was upright, but his feet were barely scuffling along, mostly dragging the ground as the other two men propelled him carefully forward. Snow and Emma were just ahead of them, coming to stand in front of a door that strangely resembled the entry to Snow and David’s loft back in Storybrooke above. The fact that Emma’s mother wore a bow and quiver of arrows over her sensibly sedate peacoat only served to confuse him further, and he wondered for a second if some sort of delirium had set in.

However, it seemed that the sights before him were real as Emma opened the door to reveal an almost perfect replica of the Charmings’ Storybrooke apartment. The only difference he could see at first glance was the fact that like all of the Underworld he had seen so far, it was tinted with a sort of dark red lens, as if seen through fire or blood. Emma didn’t slow or stop, but lead them across the eerie copy of the living room to a separate bedroom just off it, where Dave and Robin finally eased him down to the soft surface of a bed - thankfully before he could lose consciousness again.  Sight wavered unreliably in and out for several minutes, though Killian heard murmuring voices in low whispers at the doorway, before footsteps died away, the door closed, and then he heard the soft pad of light feet drawing back to his side again.

“Killian?...Can you hear me?” Her usually brash and confident voice sounded tear-choked and hesitant to his ears, paining him further to think that he had caused her distress even as he struggled to part dry and bitten-raw lips to make an audible reply. He might have been angry beyond all measure with her when he woke to realize she had turned him into the evil he hated in order to keep him alive, but all of that had faded away with the agony and apology in her eyes on the shore of that lake.  What she’d been made to do in penance, the shock of Excalibur thrusting home within his body, the wave of light transforming her back into his savior, and that final (they’d believed so at least) goodbye had washed the bitterness and the desire for vengeance from his veins. Since then, there had only been room for pain and the gnawing absence of his True Love...not room for much at all beyond the missing her.

She was beside him once more; Killian felt the bed dip gently with her weight as she set herself down on the very edge of it near his hip. A moment later, her tender hand was carefully smoothing his dark fringe of hair back from off his forehead where grime, sweat and blood had plastered it. He managed to blink his eyes open enough to look at her briefly, hoping his expression would somehow convey the words he couldn’t seem to produce to tell her he could hear her, he forgave her if she could forgive him in turn, he still loved her, he had feared he would never see her face or feel her touch again, and even that comfort was enough for him to have begun to heal.

Finally, Killian managed a small nod of his head, to which her lips tilted up in the barest hint of a sad smile. Humming low and soothingly in the back of her throat, Emma continued to run her fingers through his hair, despite how matted and dirty Killian was certain it must be. In truth, it wasn’t clear who was more calmed by the action - himself or his love. Unfortunately, it wasn’t long before her fingertips brushed against a sensitive spot where Hades had jerked his head up by the roots of his hair and Killian could not help but flinch.

A distressed sound escaped Emma’s lips as she quickly withdrew her hand, already apologizing as she stood and hurried off - worriedly explaining how she had forgotten herself in her gladness to simply be near him again instead of beginning to treat his wounds.

The sound of water running gained his interest momentarily, and then he felt the bed dip beneath him once more as Emma returned to his side. A warm washcloth touched his face as she laid it over his forehead and eyes for several seconds before beginning to gingerly dab at the dried blood and grime smeared across his forehead and cheeks. She got up once, twice, and yet a third time, keeping the wash rag warm and damp so as to ease the dried matter from his bruised and broken skin without having to scrub any harder than absolutely necessary. And, even with the occasional twinges of pain at her ministrations, Killian felt his tightly clenched and abused muscles begin to relax at last beneath her care.

It wasn’t until she had finished washing his face and neck, unbuttoned and removed the ruined ribbons of his jacket and shirt to bathe his shoulders, chest, and stomach, tearing up at the damage that revealed, and urged him gently to sit up so she could cleanse his back as well, that he tried to tell her even a little of what had happened.

She tried to be strong, to remain calm and merely listen to him, to be there for him as he exorcised whatever demons and trauma he needed to release, but he couldn’t choke out much before the emotion welling up in his chest clogged his words and forced him into silence again. Emma couldn’t stop the first, or the second, silent tear which slipped down her cheek in response to what little he had been able to share (and the crushing guilt that she had helped to put him in his attacker’s clutches) and merely seeing the aftereffects written upon his skin. However, even if she couldn’t be as strong and solid for him to lean on as she had hoped, she could see he was clinging to control, to sanity, as desperately as one would to the last board in a shipwreck so as not to drown in the storm still swirling around him.

Even before she finished washing the blood from his skin, disinfecting and bandaging the cuts and stabs and burns, she merely pulled back and stared into his eyes, hands cradling his face until he drug in a ragged, rattling breath before she finally whispered, barely audible against his lips, “It’s okay, Killian. Let it go.”

For several long, tense seconds, Killian merely stared back at her - his faze so wrought, so broken, that Emma almost panicked, not sure that she could truly help him or that she was equipped or enough. Then, slowly, the blue of his eyes clouded, washed paler by the wave of tears that suddenly began to run down his face as it crumpled, the removed and controlled facade collapsing at last as his shoulders began to shake with sobs.

Not knowing what else to do, but glad that maybe he was finally allowing himself what she suspected her needed, Emma pulled him to her chest, hoping she didn’t hurt him too badly as she did, and held on as he buried his head against her and let himself cry.  Emma didn’t shush him or try to speak; she would soothe him when he was ready, but for the moment she sensed her pirate needed to fall apart, to release the pent-up pain and fear and anger. It made her wonder just how much he had kept buried, and for how long.

All the while as she held him, Emma found herself apologizing over his silent sobs, unable to stop, admitting that she knew how she had hurt him, how she had been wrong to disregard his wishes, and swearing that she would never let her needs so supersede his own again. She would do whatever he needed.

Eventually though, as the storm of emotion passed and his shaking stilled, she realized Killian was trying to answer her.  Moving his head only slightly, she finally heard his murmured, “Emma, Emma...no, my Love...enough.  We’ve both learned…and we’ve punished ourselves too much.  It’s over, it’s forgiven…”

She was the one to shake her head then, almost unable to believe he could truly let it go, her hand cradling the back of his head and stroking the strands of his dark hair. “Killian...what I did...I can’t make it right...I can’t undo what happened to you because I…”

His battered, beloved hand, scraped raw with knuckles swollen and bloodied, but still beautiful to her, came to cover her lips, stopping the flow of words, “Sh...sh…” he soothed. “Emma...all I need is for you to keep holding me.”

Releasing a heavy sigh, Emma nodded tightly and pulled her True Love into her careful embrace once more. It wasn’t all going to fade immediately; he wasn’t healed with a single touch, but she felt for the first time since their whole ordeal had begun, perhaps even since she had picked the dagger up from the street and willingly become the Dark One, that they would in time be alright.

To his simple, bare request, she could only promise with quiet certainty, “Always, Killian. You hear me?... Always.”

Tagging a few who may enjoy: @ouatwinterwhump @spartanguard @hollyethecurious @kmomof4 @laschatzi @resident-of-storybrooke @jennjenn615 @teamhook