#i’m literally always fucking thinking about how henry didn’t even want to be in charge i’m going to lose my mind

[hawkeyeslaughter]

blacked out and when i came to and there were tears on my face and this was on my screen

i’m SORRY if you’ve sent me a request they’re either in progress or on my to do list i’m just insanely unwell over them <3

[flammaosculum]

𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇’𝐒 𝐁𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃 — a solo.

/ triggering topics.

❝You’re going to be alright, if you stop thinking it over.❞

Kinsley Marie Lowman was always known for being the troublemaker, all throughout her childhood. Having grown up in Tacoma with her brother Happy Lowman, it was no surprise that Kinsley learned a lot about how to teach someone a lesson.

As a teen, Kinsley often found herself in the office of her highschool principal. With her reputation, even if she didn’t commit the action— she’d always end up as the number one suspect. Even if 99.8% of the time she wasn’t innocent; she just happened to be in the wrong place at the right time. She had gotten into so many fights during her highschool career, that her principal suggested to Kinsley’s mother that she be homeschooled. Permanently.

Her mother was shocked by this, as she had never expected her daughter to be the troubled one. When her mother couldn’t take care of her, she sent Kinsley to live with her brother Happy in the town of Charming, California.

So she did. Her attitude improved, but she was still dealing with the drug abuse.

And on the night of Kinsley’s twenty-fifth birthday, her troubles really got out of control. The night of her twenty-fifth birthday, Kinsley was out at the clubhouse with Jax Teller, her brother Happy Lowman, Opie Winston, and a few others from Samcro.

She had been drinking a /lot/ of things— some of which she had no idea what was inside of the drinks; others she knew exactly what she was drinking. . . The ones where she had no idea what was in the drink, were mostly made by Jax. He /wanted/ her to remember everything about her birthday. . Kinsley did as she was told, downing shot after shot— until she couldn’t feel her toes.

❝ I literally can’t drink anymore~ ❞ Kinsley hiccuped, as she leaned on her best friend who also happened to be the idiot getting her absolutely wasted: Jax Teller.

❝ What do you wanna do, doll? ❞ He asked her, snaking his arms playfully around her waist. Hours passed with Kinsley dancing on tops of the tables, stripping herself of her clothes, all of which Jax got on video— and he hasn’t let her live it down to this day. Hours after partying, Kinsley made her way home.

After the party had ended, Kinsley got a phone call from her abusive ex-boyfriend, Henry. Henry told Kinsley on the phone that she better wish everything she loved goodbye. . . And at 12:45a.m Kinsley was brutally attacked on her way home from the clubhouse. She was taken into an alleyway, where she then was beaten to a pulp, her ribs were broken and so was her nose and she was also raped. Her attackers left her there to die.

Kinsley knew who her attackers were, it was her ex, Henry and a few of his friends. To say that she was livid was quite the understatement. Kinsley immediately got into her apartment and she attempted to clean the blood off her lip but with broken ribs it was rather difficult. She was relaxing in her bed— only to have a knock at her front door about half an hour later.

Wincing as she got up to answer the front door, she was shocked to find Charming PD at her door. ❝ He’s pressing fucking charges?! ❞ Kinsley screamed at the officer in front of her. ❝ I’m the one with broken ribs, I’m the one with a broken nose, and I’m most certainly the one who got the snot beaten out of them on her twenty-fifth birthday! So, please.. Explain to me where I’m in the wrong here. ❞ She spat, venom laced in every word that left her lips.

The officer explained that she was right, and that she should go to the hospital so that she could end up pressing charges on Henry. ❝ I’ve got an ambulance en route to check you out, Kinsley. I’m sorry this happened on your birthday. ❞ The officer said calmly, as Kinsley turned her head towards him. ❝ Save your pity-party for someone that gives a fuck. ❞ She grumbled.

Hearing the ambulance in the distance, Kinsley winced as she stood up and headed for her front door. The officers helped her into the ambulance, where they sped off towards St. Thomas and she was placed into intensive care; the doctors wanted to make sure everything was alright down there before they checked out the severity of the rest of her injuries.

❝ It looks like everything is okay for the most part, aside from the six broken ribs, and the broken nose. ❞ The doctor laughed, trying to lighten the mood. Kinsley nodded her head, and sighed with a growl. ❝ Have you called my brother? He needs to know what happened. ❞ She mumbled, rolling her eyes as the doctor nodded his head. The doctor explained that her brother, and a few others would be on their way soon— which, when they saw the condition of how badly she was injured, it wouldn’t go over nicely. . . Which it didn’t. Happy, Jax and Opie wanted to kill him.

After she was discharged from the hospital, Kinsley’s “attempted murder” charge was dropped, but that didn’t mean it didn’t fuck with her head mentally. She kept having flashbacks to this night for months, and she often tended to black out when angry.

And because of this, Kinsley began abusing drugs, where by her twenty-seventy birthday she had been in and out of rehab for the past two-years.

She had also been in and out of Charming PD, and managed to pick up numerous charges added to her criminal record: Public Intoxication, Driving While Intoxicated, Driving While Under the Influence, and some minor Drug Charges. Her life had gotten completely twisted upside down that night, it really messed with her head and she had been in and out of therapy sessions, all of which ended up failing.

Kinsley knew that she would be like this for the rest of her life, and she just had to keep finding coping mechanisms that would not only keep her out of jail, but also keep her alive.

Even though the drugs and drinking were her go-to, Kinsley knew she didn’t want to have to be dependent upon them in order to function normally. And she was growing dependent on them, so the last and final time she checked herself into a rehab center outside of her hometown, she’s been sober ever since.

But that night will have forever changed her.

[buckys-other-punk]

 Merciless

Pairing: Asshole Ex-Boyfriend!Chris Evans x Reader

Request: Could I have a part 2 to Insensitive were the reader comes back and she’s a bad bleep?

Summary: A couple months after their breakup, Y/N has changed since the last time Chris saw her. 

Word Count: 1.3K

Warnings: mentions of previous cheating, alcohol, cussing, mentions of sex, and badass reader aka justice lol I don't know 

A/N: Hello! Thank you @vanillabqrnes​ for the request apologies for this taking forever and I hope you like this! Also sorry to those who follow me, I promised to write more and that didn’t happen, but here’s something lol. Whenever I wanna write I open my computer and then bam writers block. Also please don’t mind any minor mistakes this is unedited. Anyways hope you enjoy and I’ll meet with you at the end of the fic ; ) 

Previous Part

It had been six months since your breakup with Chris and honestly you were doing great. I mean at first after all the rage you remembered the good memories from your relationship. While recalling those “good”memories you realized that four months prior to you finding out he cheated that he had been acting strange and distant. But you’ve moved on and could care less about that asshat.

You quickly moved on and actually you’ve completely changed your mentality when it comes to relationships. You have started to become more comfortable with yourself and not let anyone walk over you. Your closest friends have noticed your change in demeanor and they love it. They have literally called you a badass heartbreaker, solely because you have turned down almost every guy who reminded you of your asshole ex-boyfriend.

With your new look and attitude you were able to find the perfect match for you. You met your boyfriend, Henry *cough Henry Cavill cough*, at a party hosted by a mutual friend. The two of you were trying to avoid the crowd which didn’t help since the two of you were seated at the bar. You both had people flock towards you offering to buy drinks, which you both rejected. The two of you noticed one another when a woman asked Henry for his number, he declined, then she started flirting with you. You shook your head and scoffed, turning her down as you stood from your seat. You walked closer to the man taking a seat right next to him. After that the two of you had a pleasant conversation about who had the most people to hit on them, you won, and then the rest is history.

Your new relationship was completely different from your previous one. Henry adores you, treating you way better than you know who ever did. Also lets just say the sex was clearly better and you learned new things about yourself with your boyfriend. You never really got to explore that side of you when you were with Chris. He would be the one to take charge and never let you try something new.

Anyways you and Henry were actually going to lunch at one of your favorite fancy restaurants. Opting to sit near the open glass window you ordered your food. You didn’t give a fuck how these rich people were staring at you because you were wearing. You wore a long leather coat showing the right amount of cleavage and thigh high black boots. Henry wore a white button up shirt that clung to his muscles and dark blue dress pants. You laughed at a joke that Henry made, you glanced out the window and your eyes widened. Henry looked outside and he felt his blood start to boil.

*Chris’ POV*

After the break up the infamous Chris Evans was having a slightly rough time. He still didn’t understand what he did wrong. Then about a few months later Brittany, his second girlfriend while dating you, dumped Chris because she apparently found a better, richer man. Chris had been miserable in his house ever since. He thought about calling you after his break up with Brittany, but then he thought a grand gesture would be better. So he ordered the most expensive bouquet of roses and had them delivered to your house. 

A letter was immediately sent back saying that you had moved out of your small apartment, but the man who lived there kept the expensive flowers. Chris yelled out in frustration which startled his maid. She tried to comfort him telling him what he wanted to hear, that you would eventually come back to him, but deep down she knew that what she said was a lie. She knew about what her boss had been doing, but Chris offered to pay her to keep quiet.

Chris never stopped thinking about you. He would walk by your old apartment, sometimes even drunk. The man who lived there always saw him through his window feeling a bit bad for Chris, but assuming he probably deserved the heartbreak. As more months passed Chris decided that drinking would help numb the pain. It didn’t, drinking honestly made him think about you even more. Thoughts and images of you flooded his head and he didn’t know if he wanted them to stop or continue.

Chris decided that going out with other women would help, the break up messed his game. He would accidentally call his new girlfriends your name and some would stare at him with a blank face and the rest would ignore it. Eventually he found a woman who resembled you to the tee. The two of them were together for a while and Chris was kind for getting tired of her because she wasn’t you. He decided to go to a fancy restaurant to make reservations for their most elegant seating to break her heart. That’s when he saw you through the window with a man.

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

Henry looks back at you, “Is that?” You nodded your head and stood up from your seat. “Be nice.” he huffed as he remained in his seat unfolding the napkin on the table and placing it on his lap.

You stormed out of the restaurant stopping Chris from entering. Chris was shocked by how you dressed, he never saw you dress like that before. You saw Chris eye your entire body looking from your head to toes stopping at your chest.

“What do you want?” you harshly said crossing your arms over each other.

“Obviously, I’m here to make a reservation.” he snarkily replied. “How was I supposed to know you would be here?” 

“Bitch, I don’t know?!” you exclaimed. “It’s not like this is my favorite restaurant.”

“Again, how was I supposed to know that?” Chris angrily replied.

“Seriously?!” you huffed. “You’re still a dick you know that?”

“So what? You gonna teach me a lesson?” he flirtatiously said.

“God, you’re disgusting.” saying as you turned away from him.

“Wait,” he stopped you, grabbing your arm and pointing to the window, “who’s that you’re with?” 

Snatching your arm back from him. “That is my boyfriend, no begone.” you said shooing him away not caring about the people who were staring.

“Boyfriend? I bet he doesn’t treat you as well as I did.” he says c, crossing his arms. You slapped his face hard and shook your head.

“Oh, you're one to talk.” you yelled back at him. “You never changed, did you? You’re still an asshole prick that just wants a nice woman by his side to make him feel better about himself.”

“That’s not true!” he exclaimed.

“Oh really? Then tell me the real reason why you’re here?” you questioned looking at the man.

“As a matter of fact I’m taking my girlfriend here.” he replied with a smirk.

“Yeah, to break up with her?” you asked, shaking your head.

“How’d you know that?” He placed his hands on his hips.

“Because that’s what you did to the girl you dated before me, asshole.” you exclaimed.

“Well, why not after I break up with my current girl, you and I find a nice place to properly talk.” he smirked at you.

You walked closer to him and he smiled as he felt your chest against his. He looked down at your cleavage and back up to your face smiling even more. You put your hand on his shoulder smiling at him and that’s when you kneed him in the crotch.

“Go find someone else to feed your ego. I’m busy.” you said as you walked back to the restaurant and your boyfriend.

As you sat down on your seat, your boyfriend placed a kiss on your cheek. “Were you nice?” he asked, taking a sip of his wine.

“I tried to be.” you huffed as you looked out the window staring at your ex who laid on the ground in pain.

“Well, looks like I need to teach you some manners then.” he smirked.

“You sure do.” you smiled, winking back at him.

A/N: Ahhh hello!! How was that? I feel like this wasn’t my best but at the same time not bad. lol I literally have no clue how to write a bad bitch reader (because i ain’t one), but hopefully I did this request justice! Thank you for reading and lemme know what you though of this. Feedback is very much appreciated and lemme know if you wanna be tagged in my stuff!

Taglist:  @lostinthoughtsandfeelings​ @sebtheromanianprince​ @aquabrie @who-the-hell-is-sebastianstan​  @anbrax5553​ @wintersoldierissucharide​ @caplanbuckybarnes​ @miraclesoflove​ @kitkatd7​ @saiyanprincessswanie​ @fandomsandxfiles​ @hailmary-yramliah​ @coffeebooksandfandom​ @thefallenbibliophilequote​

^^please lemme know if you wanna be added/removed for future tags or dm me if I forgot you^^

[laketaj24]

The Rules IV: Triggered

Author’s Note: Thank you all soo much for your input!!! It helped me out more than you know! This was fun as hell to write and I hope you’re down for a ride! It’s about to go down. There are two songs that really hit the nail on the head for this part, they are linked below! Happy Reading my people!

Pairing: CEO!Henry Cavill X Reader

Warning: Angst. SMUT. DRAMA.

Want to catch up! Click HERE

Song Inspirations: Jhene Aiko: Triggered (First Part) Jhene Aiko: P*SSY Fairy

If your heart slowed anymore, you’d collapse. But it wasn’t just the lethargic beat of your heart that slowed down. The kiss. The fucking kiss was being replayed in your head over and over, the way she cupped him, the way his lips touched hers and he deepened it. You feel the bile rise at the helm of your throat and you step back.

“Excuse me.” You whispered to a bewildered Alex, “I need to leave.”

He noticed. You could tell by the way he looked back to Henry and then you. His tall frame went from relaxed to apathetic. “Is it him?” He gave a wave in Henry’s direction and then stepped closer to you. “Y/N?”

“I can’t talk about this right now.” You attempted to push your way through the crowd and caught an opening into the gala hall. Alex was on your feet, his long strides made it easy for him to catch you. “Hey, I can’t talk about it right now.”

Your mind raced, he took a month away from you, was it because the entire time he had her? Were you some fucking mistress, side-chick, side bitch… Homewrecker? Inwardly you taunted yourself with the unceasing line of insults to yourself. Fuck! Fuck.

“Look.” Alex cleared his throat and stepped closer to you. His presence kept you from bolting into the nearest room and destroying everything in it. You were grateful for that, maybe. “He is not worth you not enjoying this night. Do you know how beautiful you are right now? Every eye in the building was with you when we arrived. Make him mad, but don’t let him win. He did nothing to deserve a win apparently.”

The pep talk worked and more and more you were starting to understand why Alex was a friend you didn't want to lose regardless of what happened. The first dance is casual, you fight tears watching the woman touch his hand, laid her hand on his chest and laugh like he was a comedian. He wasn't that damn funny. You stay for an hour, it was required to stay an hour, you have done only what was expected of you and nothing more. Alex took you home, the car ride is silent besides the occasional murmur of a curse word under your breath.

Home is what you craved more than anything, once the door was closed and Alex's driver left you released a scream that scared you, followed by a sob as you felt your heart literally break. What a fucking feeling? Grief for someone who didn't deserve it. You didn't drink to solve your problems, so alcohol was a no. Sleep was the obvious answer.  The dress felt like it burned your skin, you were certain it didn't, but the fact that it came from him made it poison. He was poison, that you willingly chugged down like a vintage wine and now the repercussions had finally made their grand entrance. And fuck them.

Why were you looking them up, they were a known couple, known to everyone but you? You typed in his name and nothing but her appeared Billionaire Henry Cavill and Olivia Tate grace the Emmy's with their presence. Will this playboy finally settle down? Olivia Tate has HC's heart around her finger. You were sick again. You throw the phone on the couch and screenshot the picture of him kissing her. Is this the future Mrs. Cavill?

You changed clothes, slipping the crop top and leggings on. You knew it wasn't the end of the night. And you were right, sleep does not come. He sends you seven messages, each of which you stared at trying to formulate a response, but they didn't merit one, until the last one.

Henry: I've been looking for you for an hour. Where are you?

Henry: You left without a word? Are you mad or something?

Henry: A response would be nice.

Henry: Y/N

Henry: Y/N. I'll find you later.

Henry: Be there in ten.

Y/N: Drive safe. Are you bringing the wife with you?

You hit send of the picture you'd saved.

Henry: Wow.

The wait for him to arrive only infuriates you more, your mother had always said your temper was like a wildfire, once it sparked it would consume everything to the ground. You knew she was right; Henry even knew your temper needed to be managed, but no one fucking managed you. This included Henry. He didn't knock. He never did really, he entered with his perfectly tailored suit and an eye roll. And the lamp crashed behind him. He ducks, but his face is shocked.

"What the fuck was that?" he hissed.

"My fucking two-hundred-dollar lamp." You picked up the shoes and hurled them across the room next and he ducked as if he knew they were coming and charged towards you. You moved from his grasp. "You have been with her for a year!" It roared out of you and then the tears followed. "Why did you even come over here? Did you think I would be okay with it? Do you think I want to be your whore? Come when you say, fuck when you say and then you go home to her. Don't touch me!!"

"You're not going to let me explain, are you?"

"Oh, for fuck's sake! Explain Henry, tell me what lie did you conjure up, while headed here. She's just a friend. I wasn't with her." you shake your head and Henry folds his arms across his chest. "Is she the reason you wouldn't let me kiss you?"

"Are you finishing acting like-."

"Say it!" You cut him off and step closer to him. You wanted to hit something, but his face was too pretty for that shit, and despite your anger, your mother raised you better than that, "Like what Henry? Get out."

"Y/N."

"I said get the fuck out!"

His jaw clenched and he pushed his hands through his thick mane of brown curls, ending the polished look he had earlier. "I'll call you later."

"Oh, no the fuck you won't." You opened the door to Alex standing there with his eyes on Henry. Why was he back? "He was just leaving." You explained to Alex. "Bye."

Alex stepped aside and held up the brown bag, you could smell the Chinese and noticed the wine bottle. "We didn't get to eat." He explained. The smug grin on his face sealed the night, he was a good guy.

You smiled and watched Henry stare at him before looking back at you. He shook his head, "Goodnight."

"Fuck you." You whispered.

In the past hearing, people say they were numb sounded foolish, of course, they felt. A human cannot simply shut it all off, but you were wrong. So wrong, it was easier to go numb than to feel. It started with work, your time invested in the company allotted you vacation three fucking weeks, paid and free.

The first week you spent with Alex, not fucking his brains out like a part of you wanted to but being a friend. He allowed you to talk, you told him everything and he listened with no judgment and that made it easier. Tia was around too, she spent the night with you when she could, in between hair appointments and makeup slots. Her career was changing fast, you were happy for her even if you barely showed it at times.

The second week you shut them both out. You told them you were out of town, but you were in your apartment with food and tear-soaked pillows. His phone calls had stopped, but you feared it was only because you changed the number. Work could contact you via email if they needed to, but no one even called you during the first two weeks. The marketing strategy you left would do well, you knew it. And besides your certainty in your program, you didn’t care what Cavill Industries did at the moment.

The third week, everything went numb, there were no more tears to cry. Every inkling of him that existed was gone, including the $6000 dollar dress. You burned it and at that final act, the night was gone from your mind. He’d broken the rules. You’d both set them and when he kissed her, he disqualified himself.

The first day back to work your anxiety had you in its grip. Every phone call and opening of your door you dreaded. But he didn’t come. He wasn’t even in the building, according to your boss and that eased everything. You could work with him not being anywhere near you, and that made you apply to the other firms that had once been interested in you. You got two calls immediately. Matheus Corporate wanted to hire you without an interview and after the offer they sent, you were taking it. You typed out your resignation letter and turned it into HR. It was the right choice.

It was a month before you saw him again, and the Cavill you saw briefly in the lobby looked nothing like the one you had grown accustomed to. His hair was wild, and he had a beard, an actual beard. His slate-blue eyes were tired as were his movements. Just seeing him triggered you, the horrid memories of that night flooded your head and the pain resurfaced. Being numb would not be possible around him. You knew it. You hid in the stairwell like an idiot and avoided him. Nine more days of work here and you would be clear.

“Look, the way I see it, we are friends now.” Alex kicked his feet up on your desk and looked to you for affirmation.

You gave it to him nodding your head and chugging down your third bottle of water. “Yes, we’re friends. So, when I call you up at midnight and you’re with your little girlfriend cuddling and things you still have to make an appearance.”

“Girlfriend?” He scoffed.

“You heard me.” You pointed at him.

“I’m hoping one day the little girlfriend, I am cuddling will be you.” He smiled. “There is no rush and no expectation for it. But I didn’t want you to leave this place, oblivious to the fact that I really like you.”

Your heart warmed and you smiled. “Nine days to go and your boldness is out the bag.”

He shrugged. “Did I get brownie points?”

“A whole cake.” You said. You were back to work an hour later, singing under your breath when the door opened.

“I told him to wait outside.” Your assistant said, trying to beat Henry in the office. She turned to you. “Ms. YLN, Mr. Cavill is here to see you.” But he was already in front of your desk.

“Get out.” He said to her.

“Whatever you have to say to me, she can hear.” For some reason, you knew if the door closed you would succumb to him, “Speak.”

“You are not leaving.” His voice was not composed, just wavering and near weak. “Y/N.”

“Gianna, you can go.” You exhaled. What the hell had happened to him? She left the room and the space that once seemed huge started to shrink. Henry walked towards you and you held your hand up when he reached your desk. “What?”

“You changed your number.”

“What did you expect?”

“For you to give me a chance to explain,” His eyes plead with yours for the opportunity. “Can I have that please?”

“You don’t owe me an explanation, I was never yours, right?”

“You’re still mine.” The slight possessiveness came back to his voice.  

It made you weak for a moment, your hitched breath took over the silence. “Hurry up, Henry.”

“She is my girlfriend.” He said.

The words punch at a wound you were certain was nearly healed. You hoped he was going to say that he left her, the pathetically infatuated part of you wanted him to say, she dumped him. But he just reaffirmed what you already knew. Olivia Tate was the official girlfriend of Henry Cavill. “Thanks?” You swallowed. “Why are you here?”

“I don’t want her to be, I want you.”

“You are making no sense and I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to throw things at you here. I just wanted to leave all this in the past. Go be with her.”

“Y/N.” He said your name as if he was fighting for breath. “There are some things you do not understand about me. Things I would rather not talk about, but I don’t want her.”

“Then leave her! Damn it.” You bit out. “You are a grown man. You can make decisions on your own. If you didn’t want her then end it. End it now.”

“I can’t talk here.”

“Where else are you gonna talk?” You laughed. “My place? Hell no.”

“Mine.” He shook his head. “I’ll send a car for you after work. Don’t make them work Y/N. Just come.” He looked at you. “Please.”

“Fine.”

 You didn’t fight his orders on meeting him, curiosity reared its ugly head and you were gone. His home was at the edge of town, the driveway curved up a hill and lead to the glass estate. It was incredible. Had you been here on better circumstances, you would have enjoyed the view. You stepped out and the door opened. Henry had shed the suit for a black shirt and black sweats that hung at his waist somehow accenting his frame. Fuck. Were you even going to be strong enough to say no to this god? One last fuck? Just to say goodbye fuck, it wouldn’t be frowned upon.

You argued with yourself and walked into the home, the décor was much like his office dark brown woods with a modern sense. You stood in the foyer and looked at him. The closer to the door you were, the more likely you were to say no to him without hesitation.

“I can’t shut you out of my mind.” He confessed. He had shaved, but his hair was still tucked behind his ears, longer than normal.

“Just tell me.”

“I met Olivia in college.” He sighed. “We used to date off and on, but it was never more than sex. Never.”

“That’s all it is with us.” You interrupted. “Hence the reason I don’t need this talk.”

“Then why’d you come?” Henry stared. “I have been infatuated with you for months and when I finally got the opportunity to be with you, I jumped at it.”

“Don’t feed me bullshit.” You held your hand up.

“Who do you think hired you?”

“Why can’t you just leave her?” You asked.

“She knows things about me that can ruin me.” he stopped talking. “Liv is talented at getting the things she wants. If I leave her, she’ll spill it.”

“Oh, get the fuck out of here!” You laugh. “You expect me to believe this Lifetime movie shit? You got a girlfriend and you want me too. Admit it.”

“I don’t want her.” He shook his head. “I want you.”

“You can say it until you’re blue in the face. If you don’t show me, how in the fuck am I supposed to believe that this… isn’t just a way for you to get what you want.”

Henry sunk to his knees. “I’ll beg you.”

“Dogs beg.” You spat.

“Anything.” He rasped.

“Do you know how bad I hurt? I didn’t work for weeks. I didn’t care for weeks. We’ve been together a month. Do you think my behavior was normal? Do you think yours is normal? No. We are bad for one another and I just…”

How did he get up so fast? You moved back and he was on you, his steps heavy and determined. He caged you against the wall and then you realized, his face was wet with tears.

“You have to believe me.” He whispered and the fear clawed through him. “Please.”

There was an urge pushing you to leave this place, nothing good can come from him. But his face was pained, you’d never seen this part of him. You cupped his face affectionately and your lips graze his cheek. It feels as if he shutters and then you just do it. You hesitantly kiss him. Your lips touch his and the energy that passes through you ignites a groan.

“Please.” The plea is accompanied by him responding to the kiss, tenderly. He leaned into you, his body blanketing to you and taking whatever breath you thought you had left. But you were sure that he took your breath away without a kiss. His brow furrowed as he deepened it pushing your head against the door. He wrapped his arms around you, swaddling you in his muscles while somehow it wasn’t the muscles that you felt. For the first time, he was being himself with you. He allowed you to feel what you didn’t even know was there.

He pulled back from you and he moved as if he was dizzy. The breath he had stolen from you had made it's way back to you and you inhaled. There was more than a desire that flickered between the two of you.

“I’ve wanted to do that for so long.”

His eyes flashed with a little hope. “Same.” Henry didn’t wait for permission he just scooped you up from the floor and kissed you again, this time it hurt. The hurt is so fucking good.

“I want,” the words were caught in your throat. Was this right or were you spiraling? “I want you, here. Right here.” He lowered you both down on the steps so that you were straddling him, you didn’t care for his comfort. You wanted him to feel you. “You remember the rules?” You whispered. Your tongue licks his lips and then dives in and he’s taken back, gripping your ass that is winding on his dick. You can feel him through the sweats. “Hmm…”

“I could never forget.”

“Don’t cum unless I say.” You smiled before kissing him again. You bucked your hips on and his eyes widened the lust pushing through. “You hear me, sir?” Your voice was low and filled with lust. “I want to fuck you right here.” He grew harder, flinching against you. “I want you to moan my name when you cum…”

Henry’s hands were in your hair, pulling you back so he could see your eyes. “I’ll do whatever the fuck you want me to, just fuck me.” He begged.

“Did you miss me?”

“Always.” He groaned lowering his head to your breast. He sprung the from the blouse and ripped it in two. “Always.”

You wanted to believe him, but the lingering hurt from the past month. “If you lie to me again,” You unsheathed him from his sweats and stroked your hand down the length of his cock. You swiped the precum that oozed from the tip down and pumped again. “Missing me is all you’ll know how to do, sir.”

“Fuck,” He jumped in your hand and sucked air in through his teeth.

“Understand?”

“I-,” He moaned when you increased your speed. “Oh fuck.”

“Yeah,” You were so turned on by the way you were making him feel. You now understood why he wanted to be in control of everything in the bed. It was sexy as fuck to watch what you could do to someone. You could watch them unravel, put them back together and do it again.

Henry pushed the pen skirt up and easily ripped the panties. He tossed them behind you and his fingers were in you. Prodding and working, you fucking missed him, even though you shouldn’t have. “Y/N.” He moaned. “I’m almost there.” He panted.

You stopped stroking him and began to ride his fingers, lifting yourself from them and then back on until the next time Henry pushed his cock in. He was fighting every urge he had to allow you some control in this thing. He threw his head back when he was fully inside of you and stilled.

But you wanted to fuck him. You wanted to ride him slow and draw out every fucking moment you could with him. So, if you regretted being here in the morning, the walk of shame wouldn’t have too much shame. Your walls sealed around him and he gripped your hips trying to stop you from fucking him, but you continued. Your rhythm was wild, you used his shoulders like an anchor and smiled down at him. His face was red and misted with sweat. His curls were soaked, and he was mesmerized. Your tits bounced in front of him and your eyes were rolling. “Y/N.” He warned and you felt his cock grow harder and then he growled, shuddering in your breast as if he had waited forever to cum inside of you.

“Seems you broke a rule.” You laughed and continued to fuck him. He made sounds that only made you wetter for him and the man was part machine. He had to be as his cock grew back rigid and he was still shuttering from coming the time before.

Henry licked his fingers and slapped them onto your clit before he pulled you towards him. His fingers knew how to work your pussy. Moving in circles and then another slap before he started back again, and you were about to cum. You didn’t want to. You shook your head and Henry looked up at you, “I won’t last another time. I ca-,” Your pussy shook around his and your thighs locked down as the pleasure surged through your body. “Shit!” He yelled before slamming into you and spilling his cum again. “Y/N.” He rasped.

The floor wasn’t a bad place to lay for the time being. Henry was wrapped around your naked body and there was no need for cover. He kept you warm enough.

“Was she the reason you didn’t kiss me?”

He exhaled. “She,” he paused. “I never know when she will decide to come back into my life.” He admits. “And up until you, it was easier not kissing, that way when it ended… there were no emotions in it. It was just fucking. I can’t do that with you, okay? A single glance from you could make my heart stop, a kiss would have shattered me.” Henry admitted.

It was quiet for a while. Just deep breaths and kisses all down your body. “Let’s go to bed.” You said finally. “My boss would be mad as hell if I missed tomorrow.”

“I’m throwing you resignation away, and if you’re having problems out of Mike… I’ll fire his ass.” He stood up and reached his hand out to you. “Come on, the bed is the proper place to make sure you’re so tired work isn’t an option.”

  His bed was comfortable, the sheets were so soft you were tempted to ask where he got them. You slept peacefully entangled in the muscled mass that is Henry. But it was not a complaint to make, being without him for so long made you grateful you could listen to him breathe and feel his heart against your back.

“Thank God.” The unfamiliar voice came from the bottom of the bed.

Your eyes narrowed as the bright sun made its way through the windows. The blonde hair was the first take away, it was Olivia. You scrambled from under Henry’s body. “Henry!” If she wanted a fight, you were ready to fight her, you’d just prefer to not be naked while doing it.

Henry groaned and once he caught sight of her he jolted up from the bed. “Olivia. You’re not supposed to be here.”

“Don’t be rude. I was just saying thank God.” Olivia leaned over his legs and looked at you. “I hated watching him mope around here. He looked like a puppy, sad because his bitch went away.”

“Bitch? I beg your pardon, Henry if you don’t get this woman.” Henry gave an admonished look to Olivia and gripped your hand. It didn’t comfort you. It just pissed you off. You snatched your hand away from him. “Who the fuck do you think you are?” One more foul word from her and you’d fight naked.

“Excuse my manners, darling. I’m Olivia and I am so glad you are here. It seems we have some rules to introduce.” She pushed up from the bed and left the room. “Chop, chop Henry, dear. Bring your bitch, I have a plane to catch.”

[phoebehalliwell]

so you know how the 100th episode is supposedly about paige but like really it's about cole and wanting to be with phoebe again instead of like being about the charmed ones... well i just realized the 150th ep is mainly about leo and like secondarily about piper and pleo... so like you think if there had been a 200th ep it would have been about henry + paige/henry... like this show be like we gonna focus on the love interests instead of the main characters for the big milestone eps

100th episode my detested,,,,,, plugging my au for the 10,000th time. but now that u point it out, like. yeah. they really both were p relationship focused whether that was establishing that they are meant to be no matter what (leo finding his way back to piper w his mind wiped) or a really weird excuse to drop a plot you've been running for two and a half season (what happened to us, we used the be so in love / maybe it's just not meant to be like girl what. girl we have been here for literal years and the best reason you can come up with to finalize getting rid of cole's character was idk maybe it just wasn't meant to be r u joking. i don't even like phole but like goddamn was that stupid. i'm sorry this is such a tangent but why does phoebe smoke now? and her and cole Both have affairs like clearly phoebe's off the deep end so i don't even really know what's going on there but cole Also having affairs like. like you're telling me this only started to break off from canon in s4 when they were Obsessed with each other in s4 they got married in s4 to someone they hate each other and are in a loveless marriage and sleep with other people because they're empty inside? really? That's The Best You Could Come Up With. piper going awol murder machine shure i'll allow the leather's a little much but it's what 2003 so whatever. but phoebe doing. whatever the hell she was doing in centennial charmed. it literally make no sense. i'm still talking about this after her family was ripped apart after seeming stable for the first time in so so long you're telling me she would abandon piper for cole and then not even like like cole? like this woman would be desperate for a family for love for support for something to call her own and hold onto and know it'll be safe know it won't leave her if anything we should have seen freaky codependent phole not this neutered lackluster indifferent mess. 😡😡😡)

anyway. relationships! tbh tho. would have Loved a good paige/henry backstory ep. bc like. we just vaguely teased henry's backstory and it's literally so fucking interesting like the implications he was abandoned at birth or maybe he was orphaned either was he grew up in the system that failed him over and over again and has like trouble getting close to people because of it and then somehow ended up as a parole officer like trying to help kids who are probably in identical situations to the one he was in like. there's So Much To Do There. but specifically, if i am doing Thee Paige/Henry Centric ep. it is a blast 2 the past in which the couple both have to confront their anxieties around parenting, ending w the reveal that paige is pregnant w twins. or starting w the reveal idc. but i am. really fascinated i've talked about paige and motherhood before but i think like. for anyone who like. has/had good parents but still you know. were either like an evil little shit or just you know fucked up and miserable so on and so forth people who have made their mother cry in the kitchen like. there's something really fascinating there because like. how do you now as a mom try to protect your own child from the pain u went through. because goddamn it seemed like your mom did everything right and yet you were still awful. so how like. how are you supposed. god if you're as good as her which seems like a reach your kid still might be like you and and what if you're not as good as her. what if everything you try to do only backfires and blows up in your face more you know blah blah blah that good old fashioned anxiety. piper and phoebe don't have this because they didn't like. have a mom. but paige did and she had a really good one who never actually got to see her get better and those scars run deep!! aaaaaaaaaa!!!! i really like mom!paige it's something i really like to think about because i think like while she's great with kids she's great with babies she's great with toddlers she's great at connecting with students with charges with parolees i think she really struggles being a mother to her own children for all the aforementioned reasons. so it could be fun to break that down While we also a) get henry's tragic backstory bc we always need more of that and b) henry's own views of parenting and also just more of their relationship headcanon rite now henry gets really into astrology so he can help paige with spells and the like because he hates feeling like he's powerless and can't help his wife so he finds all the ways a mortal can help <3. but yeah i think henry secretly like doesn't even fully realize it has a whole lot of anger stored up in his heart bc i do think he was abandoned at birth and you know paige kinda got closure on that you know she literally got to meet both parties and you know they gave her away to literally protect her from unspeakable wrath vis a vis the elders so there's that but for henry it's like. like he was their son. and they just. they left him. they didn't even leave any way for him to find them again because like. they just didn't fucking care, i guess??? like. what. what could be the reason what could drive them to do that and you know paige whose parents Had Reason are like i'm sure your parents had reason but imo. they didn't. and i think that's a wound henry really pretends like he doesn't have. so we're def tearing that open in ep 200. that and then just like. how much henry wants a family <3 how much he wants to take em to six flags and make french toast on sunday morning and fly kites in the park like he wants to give his kids the childhood he wished so so bad he could have had. bonus round after traveling back through time to pick at scabs til they bleed, we end with a quick flash forward into the future where everything works out <3

[bi-ressler]

Coming Home [RessGale]

@skiesfallithurts requested "Coming home + RessGale" for this ask meme (still taking prompts if you want to send something in! Could take me some time though due to real life)

Title: Coming Home Relationship: Julian Gale/Donald Ressler Characters: Julian Gale, Donald Ressler, Henry Prescott (mentioned), Raymond Reddington (mentioned), others (mentioned) Words: 10.891 Setting: Post-Prescott-Arc AU Warnings: Abuse of prescription meds (aka Donnie is back on oxy and I'm not even remotely sorry), sexual assault (non-explicit, but it's being discussed), homophobia very briefly mentioned A/N: I've had this idea in my head for literal ages and thanks to the prompt I'm finally doing it! So thanks for indulging me :D Also, this got away from me (again) and turned out way (WAAAAAY) longer than it should have. Oops! - - - As always, English isn't my first language, this isn't beta'd and all mistakes are mine. Feedback is greatly appreciated :) (Also, tumblr keeps fucking up the formatting, so if the sentence breaks up in the middle of the paragraph, blame hellsite dot com.)

[Read HERE on ao3!]

__________________________________________

Falling back into old habits and unhealthy coping-mechanisms is far too easy, Donald finds. But when everything crumbles around him, and all the poorly concealed cracks and insufficiently closed gaps and holes in his armour, in his life, finally give out and leave nothing but rubble and guilt and dread, it's the only way he can think of not to fall into complete despair and drown himself in self-pity.

But maybe he's already past that point.

Maybe this is what drowning actually feels like, and there's definitely no lack of self-pity on his behalf.

So he downs the pills with a swig of beer, ignoring the fact that this feels far too familiar, far too much like coming home after a storm, soaking wet and shaking to lay down on the warm carpet and breathe for the first time.

It was all a mistake.

The last six years, it was all one big mistake and right now, he'd give everything to go back in time, erase Reddington from his mind, never join that damned taskforce that had him spiralling to this point from day one. Hell, he'd go even further, never become an agent in the first place - maybe open up a coffee shop in Detroid or become a banker or lawyer or anything at all, as long as it's as far away from Reddington and this whole mess as possible.

That way, he'd never meet Henry Prescott. He'd never murder Laurel Hitchin. He'd never let down everyone in his life, most of all himself, and Audrey would still be alive, and Julian would still be with the bureau ---

Julian.

The guilt comes back full force, because if anyone didn't deserve the fate they got, it would be Julian. Hard working, fierce, loving Julian.

He dry-swallows another pill for good measure, shoulders his go-bag and disappears down an empty alley, unseen by cameras and cops and anyone who might recognize him.

He's not sure if he can go on like this.

He's been on the run for nearly a week now; a week of hiding, paranoia, always looking over his shoulder and ducking into the shadows. Where he once felt safe when he heard the siren of a police car, he now starts running. It's exhausting and he cowers lower into the corner of the abandoned building he's staying in tonight.

Another pill. The shivers lessen. The bottle is almost empty.

He leans his head back against the cold concrete and curses his need for justice, his stupid-ass decision of accepting this life as punishment for his actions.

No, that's not right, he thinks.

If he really was after justice, he wouldn't have run. He would have faced the consequences like a man, faced jail-time and public humiliation.

Instead, he'd been crushed by his own guilt after Prescott's death, written his confession with a shakey hand and left it on his desk, before grabbing the go-bag from the trunk of his car and running.

By morning Cooper must have found it, and in the afternoon he'd seen his face on the news. He has no idea where to go from here.

He pops another pill and curses when he reminds himself to cut back and save what little of the drugs he still has left.

---

The thing about guilt is, Ressler thinks, that despite what everyone says, it doesn't lessen over the years. He still feels guilty about ruining his brother's chance of a career as a cop, and he still feels guilty about Hitchin and Wright and Prescott and every crime Reddington committed right in front of his eyes.

He still feels guilty about what happened to Julian - the first time, after that operation in Kabul went so horribly wrong and Julian took the blame for it, both of them knowing full well that Ressler had been in charge and made the decision to fire, but being stubborn enough to convince IA that it had been his fault, handing over his badge and service weapon with an unreadable look towards Don. Maybe he did it out of some twisted sense of obligation. Maybe they were just in love and compromised. But in the end Ressler's decision had cost Julian his job and a civilian his life.

And the second time, after the whole mess with Mr. Kaplan, effectively ending Julian's career as nothing more but collateral damage. He can still feel his heart crack at that look of betrayal in Julian's eyes as they stood over the remains of Mako Tanida.

---

The other thing about guilt is that Donald doesn't know how to make amends. He knows how to follow his instincts and get himself deeper into trouble, deeper into the pit of guilt, deeper into unescapable situations. Making more and more excuses, trying to cover up all of his messes with lies that lead to more excuses, more lies, more damage.

He knows it's good that he does feel guilt in the first place. But there's only so much he can take.

He thinks about everyone he has left - Reddington, Keen, Aram, Cooper, Navabi.

He could go and find Reddington, ask him to get him out of this mess he created, but he still has some dignity left (he almost laughs at that, sitting in the dirt, close, so close again to withdrawal that his chest tightens, burdened with the undignity of all the actions that led him here). So Reddington is out. He'd only get him into some deeper shit, anyway, and he can't deal with that right now.

The taskforce is out, too. They're obligated to arrest him on sight. And after doing what he did (all the dirty work for Prescott that makes him shudder and swallow back bile), he wouldn't be able to look them in the eyes. They'd know. Another thing he can't deal with.

He can't go to his family, either; getting to Detroid would be a feat in itself, but no doubt the feds are just waiting for him to make contact with his mom or brother. He doesn't want to think about them; if he just so much as imagines his mom crying over the news of her little boy's fuck-up of a life he would only break the last remains of his heart.

Sighing, he realizes he's on his own and he closes his eyes against tears that don't come. His eyes are far too dry, and yet he feels like crying; maybe he's become too numb, but not numb enough to not care. He swallows against his dry throat, his fingers flexing around the pill bottle. He's out at sea alone, the storm raging and waves threatening to bring him down, and in the darkness, there's no lighthouse in sight, not even a candle in the window of someone who might take pity on him. He's bound to drown.

---

The next day, he runs out of pills as well as luck. He hears the shouting before seeing what's going on, and he doesn't need to round the corner to know that the cops are arresting his dealer; he hears his name. They're not after the poor sod for his arsenal of prescription-meds, they're after him. He turns around and doesn't stop running until his lungs burn and his feet ache.

---

He finally collapses behind an old factory that's been out of use seemingly forever. He vaguely remembers it from a case so many years ago, when everything was still fine and he still had dreams and hopes and Reddington hadn't crossed his way yet, Julian already by his side, Prescott a name he had no business knowing.

He remembers some nondescript arms dealers hunched over their merchandise, duffels with a ton of dollar bills and a short shoot-out that ended with the perps in cuffs and a brilliant smile from Julian. Although he couldn't see his eyes behind the dark sunglasses, he knew the twinkle in them that told him everything he needed to know.

How the fuck could he fuck up something so good?

It doesn't matter now, though. He slides down the rough walls, and a shiver rips from his spine, rocking his entire body, until it gets stuck in his hands and they can't stop trembling. Every movement hurts deep in his bones, and the shaking only makes it worse until he feels sick to his stomach and feels the bile rise.

He closes his eyes, and now the tears come.

He lets all the shame and hurt and fucking guilt wash over him, drown him until he is gasping for air, remembering --- remembering all the roads he shouldn't have taken, remembering every time he allowed Prescott to shove his dick down Donald's throat, the blood of some stranger still on their hands and clothes, and Ressler can't keep it in anymore. His stomach convulses and forces its few contents out, spattering on the dirty ground, acid in his aching throat that still remembers Prescott's assaults.

He remembers Prescott's laugh and the grip of his hand leaving bruises on his arms. He remembers burying bodies of people he knew nothing about, for a man who could be his downfall with no more effort than twitching a finger.

Ironic, how that still happened and Ressler has just reached rock-bottom while still having done everything Prescott had demanded. A fucking lose-lose-situation. Ressler would like to laugh about the stupidity of it all (of himself), but it gets stuck somewhere between his chest and vocal chords. He can never go back.

He'd always thought it would be Reddington who'd ruin him. He was wrong.

---

With the onsetting darkness comes the cold; it's the end of summer and the days are warm enough, but the nights take all the warmth and replace it with cruel emptiness and too many thoughts.

He remembers all the times their hunt for Reddington had gone wrong; all the times they'd run into another dead end; all the times an informant ended up dead --- all the times he would crawl into Julian's bed or Julian in his and they'd hold each other, seek solace and comfort and hope and the strength to move on in each other's arms.

He remembers Julian's lips on his and how, for these few moments, he'd want nothing more and could forget the job. He remembers skin on heated skin, and whispered platitudes that in that moment felt like a lifeline, and falling asleep with limbs entangled, sheltering him from nightmares and fatalistic thoughts.

He misses it. Misses it more than anything else, and it's the first time he acknowledges this feeling. He'd missed Julian for years; and then he was back again, back in that ice rink, looking at him like nothing had happened, like he still didn't blame Donald for all the shit that had happened. Maybe he really didn't. Maybe the guilt for all of that had been for nothing.

And then Julian was gone again and this time it would be irreversible. Like a lost limb, he feels his absence.

Shivering, he stares at the darkness around him, and all he wants is those strong arms around him and the scent of leather and aftershave and the scratch of Julian's stubble against his own.

He can never have that again. He doesn't deserve it, and Julian sure as Hell won't forgive him. Not for ending his career and certainly not for working with Reddington and turning a blind eye to the crimes he committed under their watch. He wouldn't even want to touch him again with all the dirt and blood on his hands from working for Prescott; wouldn't want to kiss the same lips that suffered the abuse of a ruthless killer and had swallowed it like he deserved it.

Because the truth is, maybe that's what his life has become: an unescapable, unforgivable Hell, all the pictures of what he'd done burned into his brain, behind his eyelids, on his skin where the bruises have long since faded but the dirt still remains. And maybe that's exactly what he deserves.

He crumbles under his thoughts until he lies on the ground, a shivering, hurting mess that's overflowing with guilt and self-loathing.

Julian always used to kiss it away.

---

How, when and why Donald has decided to walk up that road into the woods is lost on him.

He used to know this road, been here a few times but not in several years; it seems unchanged exept for the sky that looks a bit duller. He never walked this path before, but he didn't want to steal a car. Wouldn't know where to dump it here anyway.

He knows it's probably a dumb idea, but he's out of options by this point.

Every step is hard work and his knees are about ready to give out, shaking under the strain of carrying him for miles and miles, and even in the chilly shadows of the surrounding trees he's sweating like it's a hundred degrees out. Another shiver runs through his body that feels like it's crushing every bone on its way, and he moans as he gasps for breath.

He knows though if he stops he'll never get up again. He'll never reach the old cabin in the woods by that small lake, and he'd die by the side of the small, muddy road. He's not ready for that, though.

---

It's late afternoon when he gets off the main road and takes the small footpath that leads to the cabin in a few hundred yards. The sun is much hotter now and although he can feel her warmth on his skin, he feels cold and clammy and miserable, fighting shiver after shiver and losing hard.

All he wants to do is curl up into a tight ball and die, but he's not gonna give up, not now, even though he knows that he's making a massive mistake here, but he doesn't care. It's like he's too far gone to acknowledge that fact and all his common sense has left him along with the contents of his stomach last night; he can't shove it back and, frankly, what does it matter? He can't fall any deeper.

So he stumbles on, struggling over rocks and branches, his feet numb except for the occasional flare of pain that still reaches his brain and he can't quite manage to shut out.

Then it comes into sight and he breathes out, a pained, wheezing sound that makes his head spin, and suddenly he feels sick because he knows he has made the wrong decision; he should go. He should turn around and collapse by the road and wither away like a fallen leaf.

The cabin is still like he remembers it from years ago; it belonged to Julian's father before he'd died, a nice little place far out in the woods that's perfect for a weekend-trip. Julian used to tell him stories of coming here with his dad to fish and hunt, back in the day before everything had turned to shit between them, before he came out as gay and his father stopped talking to him altogether.

He knows Julian is here; he's seen the old Ford parked by the road close to the small footpath. He also knows he's not welcome, just as he knows that he won't have anything left if Julian rejects him and throws him back onto the street he came from.

Feeling his knees wobble, he pushes on before he can give in to the seducing urge to let himself fall to the ground and curl up to die. He can still do that afterwards.

Another few steps and he's around the cabin where he can see the small lake, a pond really, with the wooden terrace right by the water; on it stands a deserted deck chair, but the bottle of beer that sits right next to it is still half-full, so Julian must be back any minute.

He leans heavily on the wall of the cabin and feels his strength bleed away. A bead of sweat runs down his forehead and along his nose as he lets his head fall, the strain in his neck too much for his muscles to hold it up anymore. Catching his breath is difficult when his lungs don't want to take in any much needed air and his chest feels too tight, like the collar of his dirty white t-shirt is strangling him, and he raises a violently shaking hand to his chest, ignoring the creaking of his joints as he does so.

Shit, this is worse than he'd thought. The hand that isn't clutching his shirt automatically wanders towards his pants pocket. It's empty. Of course it's empty. He's out of pills. He panicks at that because how in the world is he supposed to survive ---

when he hears a gun cock and forces himself to look up into Julian's face.

He looks good - always does - and his stubble is almost a beard now; his hair has grown too and Donald just wants to breathe it in. He wears sunglasses (of course, it's still bright outside and his eyes are just so damn sensitive), and his brow is deeply furrowed, his mouth a thin line that tells Donald just how welcome he is here.

"Don?", he asks, voice raspy like he hasn't spoken in a long time. Maybe he hasn't, but Ressler isn't naïve enough to blame any emotion for the roughness.

"Hey", he says, and he feels the world sway from the effort of holding himself up, so he grabs for the wall again, temporarily borrowing stability from the wooden structure. He doesn't even want to know how awful he must look, all sweaty and dirty and miserable, shaking and fighting just to keep standing.

"What do you want?", Julian asks, words hard and the gun still pointed at Ressler.

He looks at Julian, helpless to say anything, devoid of all words, and he realizes he doesn't know how to answer that question. He opens his mouth in the hopes of being able to bring out anything at all when a shudder runs through his body, leaving him breathless and on the ground. For a second all he knows is the pain of too much and too little at the same time that grinds his bones to dust and cuts through his muscles effortlessly. He thinks he groans in pain, but can't tell over the static in his ears.

"Fuck", he hears at the edge of his consciousness, "Don!"

And when he looks up, Julian is gone from where he stood before, instead there are arms steadying him from face-planting into the muddy ground. He leans heavily into those arms that promise comfort and solace and strength.

"Julian", Don rasps out, and he looks up to see Julian close, so close, worry visible even behind the sunglasses, and he has to close his eyes as a rush of emotion threatens to overcome him. This is it. This is all he wanted.

"Don't talk now, okay? I'm callin' an ambulance." And that's wrong. He can't do that, Ressler can't go to the hospital, not when he's on every wanted-list in the city ---

"Don't", he whispers and swallows against the bile. Julian looks at him like he's lost his mind, but there's still so much worry. "Don't", Donald repeats. He doesn't know how else to communicate this.

"Okay", Julian says flatly, still sceptical. "You mind tellin' me though why the fuck you're here?"

Ressler looks away, tries to ignore the black dots that creep into his vision.

"I'm sorry", he says, and he means it. Hopes that Julian understands, because Ressler doesn't know if he has the strength or the words to really explain himself here. "I didn't know where else to go."

Julian just nods, waiting for him to continue while Donald shivers in his arms and doesn't know how to go on.

"I fucked up", he finally says, and Julian laughs at that; a humorless, dry laugh that settles itself deep into what's left of Don's bones, a laugh that sends waves of guilt through his chest. He looks to the ground and tries not to break down under the weight of it.

"Yeah, you did", Julian says and there's an edge to his voice that's dangerous and hurt and speaks of everything Ressler has put him through. "And I'm really fucking close to tell you to go to Hell."

His eyes burn holes into Donald's skin until he's sure that Julian must be able to see his insides now, the rotten flesh and the dirt and the blood and all the shame and guilt he's never gonna be able to wash away.

"Not gonna do that though. Seems like you're already there."

Don lets his head fall and at this point he can't tell sweat from tears or blood or vomit or dirt; it's all there on his skin, whether remembered or real he doesn't know. All he knows is that it's disgusting, he's disgusting, he's dirty and has done unforgivable things and yet Julian is still holding him up, still touching him --- His head drops and he closes his eyes against the spinning world.

"C'mon", Julian says quietly, "let's get you cleaned up. You look like you could need a drink too, something to eat. And then you're gonna tell me what's going on before I change my mind. You alright with that?"

Donald just nods. At least he thinks he does.

He feels Julian's grip tighten, and together they manage to get Donald on his feet; he sways unsteadily, but Julian's hands are still there, grounding him against the nausea, keeping him from falling over as he clenches his eyes shut against the wave of dizziness and pain that rips through him.

"Hey, wait", he blurts out when Julian nudges him to move. "You don't - you don't have to do this, Julian. I won't blame you if -", he takes a deep breath, trying to organize his blurry thoughts, "- if you... y'know. Wanna throw me out on the street. Let me rot."

Julian looks at him long and hard, his face unreadable, and Donald wonders when that changed. He used to be able to read him flawlessly, back in the day.

"I know", he says eventually, "and believe me, I have every reason to, but... let's just get inside 'n' sort this out, yeah?"

He nods.

The inside of the cabin looks exactly the way he remembers it from the few times Julian has taken him here. Cozy and warm, soft light through the small windows, wooden table in the middle of the room - with all kinds of stuff on it, bottles and tools and newspapers - surrounded by self-made wooden chairs; it's only one room, and in the corner is still the old bed with the worn through mattress that he remembers very vividly (it's softer than it looks, the pillows under his hips fluffy, the scent of whiskey from Julian's lips and resin from all around him filling his senses ---) Julian drags him to the bed; Don is glad that Julian keeps his hands on his shoulders for a few more moments. He doesn't trust his body to sit on its own and not fall over. He takes a few deep breaths - the smell of whiskey and resin still lingers in the cabin and if he closes his eyes, he might be able to pretend nothing has happened and he's back to when all was good. He doesn't close his eyes. Needs the punishment of seeing an older version of Julian and that glimmer in his eyes that betrays the cold anger he tries to project. In here, it's easier reading him. The sunglasses have landed on the table in the mixture of things, and breathing is just that much easier now. Funny how brown eyes can have that effect on him. Or maybe it's just Julian's eyes. "You okay? Or are ya gonna topple over as soon as I let go?", Julian asks. His hands burn where they touch Ressler's shoulders - even through the shirt - and he feels like their heat is spreading all the way through his arms, mending his broken bones with a painful grip that makes him gasp. "It's alright", he says. His voice sounds strange, somehow distorted and raw, and when Julian lifts his hands it's like ice fills all the places that were on fire just seconds before, crushing him, burning even worse. He bites his lip. "'Kay", Julian murmurs, and then he turns around to get a bottle of water and --- and he opens up one of the cabinets and pulls out a small, brownish-yellow pill bottle --- his heart is beating so fast now he thinks he might throw up, and every fibre in his body screams Want! Want! Want! --- his muscles pulling on him, willing him to move, to get to the pills, down them all, swallow them, no regrets, make the trembling stop and the sweating and the shivers, undo the damage to his body, unbreak his bones, untear his sinews --- His mouth falls open. He can already feel it: the texture and the form of the little white pill against his tongue, the short moment when he swallows, the high he's chasing - no, no, it's not that anymore, it's never been that; it's always been about numbing the pain until it wasn't, until it was just about avoiding the come down. But right now he can feel the high, the anticipation, being so close to victory --- "Don?" And he wants to tell Julian to shut up, to just give him the pills, but he's the one who holds the bottle, he has the power in this moment and fuck, Ressler would do everything, anything, get on his knees or on all fours and just take it (flashes of Prescott assault his mind at that, and he gasps audibly because Julian is not Prescott, far from it, and he just wants his brain to shut the fuck up, to stop, knowing the pills will do that, they'll fucking save him from his own thoughts) --- "Hey, man - what's going on?" It's Julian's voice again, so much nearer now, burning hot hands holding him together as Donald crumbles. He collapses like a frail burning building, the last beams that were holding it together now nothing more than a pyre of grief and lost hope. He trembles against Julian's chest, his hands clinging to Julian's shirt, hurting from the exhaustion of cramping around the scratchy material but unable to let go, his head tucked under Julian's chin where he crouches in front of Donald on the floor. He wants to cry or to scream or to lash out, but all the energy he has left is unfocused, is mainly the never ending chant of Want! Want! Want! beneath his skin. "Fuck", he grinds out, and it's the hardest thing for him right

now, but he has Julian's arms around him and can feel his lips in his hair and smell leather and aftershave and --- Julian hasn't let him go yet. He hasn't pushed him away yet; is still touching him, unafraid, not yet disgusted. Then again, he doesn't know what Donald has done. "Hey, hey", Julian breathes against Ressler's temple, "it's okay, Don, it's - it's alright. It's gonna be alright..." Don shakes his head, takes a stuttering breath. "It's not, it's -", he starts, and his hands shake so hard now he's afraid of hurting Julian, "it's all gone to shit, okay? Nothing's alright, and - it's all my fault. It's all my fault, Julian, just ---" He doesn't know what he's saying, only that he needs to get it out. He needs to let Julian know how sorry he is, how much he wishes he could go back and do it all differently, how much he wants Gale to be happy. "Easy", Julian whispers, and now his hands are stroking up and down Don's spine and he feels like a child, but also safer than he has in a long time. This, right here, is his shelter in the storm, a place to wait out the worst of it before he can go home. Only that he doesn't know where home is anymore. Not that it matters. He has his self-imposed punishment to serve. They sit there for a while, until Ressler's breathing is less ragged and his body is limp with exhaustion and his hands uncramp around Julian's shirt. "You need to drink something", Julian says, his voice far too soft, and somewhere deep inside of him Ressler just wants Julian to yell at him, to beat him, to show him exactly how he's felt the last couple of years. Let out all the anger and frustration and disgust he must be feeling. Add his loathing to the pyre burning away at Donald's insides. Julian shuffles away, keeping one steadying hand on Ressler's shoulder, the other reaching for the glass of water he must have put on the ground besides him when Donald collapsed. "Here", he murmurs and holds the glass up to Don's lips. Donald doesn't even try to take it from him, his trembling hands trapped between his thighs. The water is refreshing and he's sure he could drink an entire river - his mouth and throat aren't longer as dry, his heaving stomach slowly settles, his over-heated skin seems to cool a little. When the glass is empty, Julian sets it aside and takes a hard look at Don. "Better?", he asks. Behind the hard, cold glare his gaze is so open, so vulnerable now that Don has to look away. "Yeah", he nods. "Thanks." He doesn't know where Julian has put the pill bottle, but it's probably back in the cabinet. There's no way Julian could have misinterpreted Donald's behaviour. "So." Donald looks up again. He can still feel the sweat on his forehead, on his neck, chest, everywhere, but now it's cooler, and if the temperature keeps dropping as quickly he will surely freeze to death. He doesn't know though if it's the change of seasons or his own body. "Guess I owe you an explanation", Donald murmurs. He's tired suddenly, so tired he can feel it in his bones. Like he's two hundred years old, an ancient tree about to die. "You bet your ass you do." With that Julian gets up off the ground, refills the glass, sets it on the table and sits down next to Donald on the bed. He sits further away than he used to, the gap between them like a fucking canyon that Don could throw himself in to to break every bone in his body yet again, for the last time. He won't though. He owes Julian that much. "So?", Julian asks when the silence stretches too long. But Donald doesn't know where to start, doesn't even know what to say except for I'm sorry and forgive me and I love you. He swallows, his mouth suddenly dry again, his heartbeat picking up its pace, beating uncomfortably against his too tight ribcage. "I'm sorry", he begins, and when he looks at Julian, his face is impassive and schooled. He expects more. Of course he does, Donald thinks, and he deserves it, deserves more, deserves everything. He's just not sure he can give that. "I ruined your life", he says. Looks down at his hands and how

they shake where they're trapped between his knees. "Again", he adds and the corner of his mouth twitches in a humorless attempt at a smile. "You should never have paid for what we - what I did. The whole Reddington-thing. I justified it with all the good we did, all the cases we solved, the criminals we put behind bars, but... you were right. The price was too high. It was doomed from the start... All the people who died, Julian, all those good people --- I don't know if it was worth it." He looks up into Julian's face. It's not as passive and unreadable as before; now there's a glint of pity, a tiny spark of anger, the smallest sign of resignation. "And - and to think I betrayed all my principles for that taskforce. All I ever stood for - wanted to stand for. Fuck, I'm... I just... I just wanna go back, Julian. I just wanna start over. Forget about - about Reddington and Prescott and Hitchin and - Audrey. Fuck, Audrey... I should have known then. I should have quit back then." He buries his face in his hands. There are no tears, but the shame that's crawling up his spine and spreading through every inch of his body is threatening to overwhelm him. "What happened to her?", Julian asks quietly, his voice impossibly soft. He knows about them. About their far too early engagement, about the stubbornness with which Donald had tried to love her just to get over the fact that Julian was gone from his life. About his need to prove that he was okay. "She's dead. She was killed. She'd still be alive if it wasn't for Reddington." "I'm sorry", Julian says after a moment of silence. He sounds genuine, even though Ressler knows how Julian feels about Audrey. Or used to feel, anyway. And now, Donald doesn't know what else to say. Knows there's so much, too much to talk about, but he doesn't know where to start. He wants to tell Julian about Hitchin and Prescott and those brief moments with Reddington - in the box and in a hotel room in Washington and the whole long flight from Munich back to the states. Donald takes a deep breath; it's not like that makes any difference because his lungs still seem incapable of taking in enough oxygen for him to survive. How he's still conscious, he doesn't know, but it's probably just his mind playing tricks with him. And all the while, Julian looks at him with patience that's bordering on resignation, and sadness he might be mistaking for grief about the people they could have been. The love they could have shared, the lives they could have lived. All those things Ressler never gave himself time to grieve for, but are returning with a vengeance now, cutting him up, sucking him dry, suffocating him in their thick reality. "I deserved it", he finally croaks, his voice strangled by everything he's lost, and he clears his throat. "Everything I got in the end, I deserved it." He stares at his hands that are trapped between his knees, feels them tremble, and when he looks back up at Julian, the other man is suddenly closer than he was before. The canyon between them is nothing more than a crack in the pavement now, their legs not yet touching, Julian's heat a welcome comfort against Don's clammy pale skin, and it still feels like it's not enough, like nothing he could do could ever be enough, and as much as he detests the thought that this might be the closest Julian will let himself get to Don, he also revels in the almost-touches and the dark gazes and the fact that this, too, is something he painfully deserves: the one person he never stopped loving to be entirely unreachable. He thinks back to the good times and how easy it was to just reach out and take any comfort he needed. The sleepless nights in those dingy motel rooms they spent staring out the window at the starry sky or at each other, the moments of warmth and solitude, bodies wrapped around each other like they're one, soft breath in his ear, dry lips on skin, rough fingers entangled, squeezing, comforting. Thinks back to that night in Manila, when Julian stood before Donald's door at three in the morning, dark bags under

his eyes, arms wrapped tightly around his chest to prevent him from falling apart; later it would be Don's arms holding him together. Thinks back to that morning in New York that should have been entirely unpleasant with the stink and the broken heater in the middle of January and the noise even so early, but with Julian's sleeping form next to him - so peaceful and full of beauty -, he wished it could always be like this. He doesn't think back to the time they said goodbye, or the time Julian almost died from a bullet in his stomach, or the countless times they sat at each other's hospital beds. He doesn't think about the last time they kissed, the last time they made love, the last time they hugged, the last time there wasn't this edge to Julian's voice that tells Donald that things will never be the same. He certainly doesn't think about the future. "And what is it you got? What is it you think you deserve? 'Cause I see you sitting here like, like death warmed over and I can't imagine what the Hell you could've done to deserve... well, this." Julian's voice is rougher than usual; Donald doesn't know if it's because of the emotion he swallows so successfully or because he's smoking more than he used to or because this is the first time in a long time that he's speaking to somebody. Donald draws in another sharp breath. His lungs aren't exactly cooperating, but it doesn't matter as long as he can still explain. "I think I need some air", he says, voice barely more than a whisper. He sees Julian nod out of the corner of his eye, and together they manage to walk outside. It's weird, a little, how much better he feels and how much easier it is to talk, to move, to breathe, ever since arriving in the cabin. Just a few hours ago he was almost certain he'd be dying in a ditch right about now. It's gotten dark outside; the sun hasn't disappeared fully yet, but through the trees that surround the cabin and the pond it's impossible to make out. Julian sits him down in the deck chair Donald had noticed earlier, the opened bottle of beer that's still sitting beside it now forgotten. Don takes a deep breath. It's easier now, out here. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Julian setting up a second chair next to the one Donald is sitting on. They both lean forward, elbows on their knees, Ressler's head hanging, Gale watching him with sharp eyes. Donald shakes his head; to think how easily all this could have been avoided! If he hadn't taken the job with the taskforce, none of this would have happened. Or if he'd been honest sooner, if he'd talked to Julian when the whole Mr. Kaplan-mess started instead of betraying him --- "That, right there, what you just said, is why I love you." He can still hear those words loud and clear in his head, recalling that moment with absolute clarity even if most of his other thoughts and memories are blurry from exhaustion and pain. The way they just came over Julian's lips, so simple, so easy, like they were picking up from where they'd left, still sends goosebumps over his arms and back; he remembers the painful tightening of his chest back then, and his mind going completely blank, and deciding to overplay his nerves with a lame joke and getting back to work as quickly as possible. He remembers hope bubbling up in the back of his ribcage, and laying awake that night overthinking those words. Overthinking the whole situation while pushing away his guilt. He hated lying to Julian then, and he hates where it has gotten him. He remembers cursing Julian's mind, always so quick and clever, and he remembers cursing Reddington time and time again. He purposely doesn't remember all the times he thought about the Concierge instead of Julian when he was alone in his bed. It feels like another betrayal all over again. And he remembers being on the verge of asking how much truth lay behind Julian's words more than once but always pulling back at the last second. Maybe he'll never know, now. "Don?" He remembers that he needs to talk. His mind feels almost bruised by the

onslaught of memories ever since he's seen Julian for the first time in so long. "Yeah. Sorry." He takes another deep breath, now easier out here, and leans back in his chair, tired eyes focusing on the patches of darkening skies through the crowns of the trees. A sense of tranquility fills his whole body and the shivers cease to shake him. "You were right about Mako Tanida. His head. Reddington - Reddington gave it to me as a gift." He closes his eyes for a second and sees the severed head in the box as if it happened yesterday instead of almost six years ago. He shudders and opens his eyes again, back to watching the gentle breeze shifting through the leaves and branches. He doesn't look over at Julian. "Some sort of... sick compensation for Audrey's death." He pauses at that, thinking back at Audrey and how he barely remembers her face now even though he knows he should. It gives Julian time to piece it together. He doesn't say a word though, intent on letting Donald speak. "It makes me sick now. But that's Reddington, you know? He lulls you in and there's nothing you can do about it. -- Objectively, I knew what we were doing, and I was justifying it with all the high-profile arrests we did. But... I don't know, man, he was under my skin and I only realized it when it was too late. He's like this... spider. Sucks you dry as soon as you're caught in his net. And it doesn't stop until someone worse comes along and ---" He stops speaking then, dropping his head, unable to find the words to convey Prescott's cruelty, his depravity that became Donald's own. A hand on his shoulder makes him look up; Julian is watching him, his gaze a strange mix between a cold distance and warm empathy. "What happened?", he asks. As if his hand doesn't burn Don's flesh where it touches him over his shirt, as if he doesn't know the repercussions of this gesture, as if he can't even imagine what it means to Don that he's touching him out of his own accord, not yet fleeing, not yet disgusted, but full of love and comfort and everything Donald doesn't deserve. They stay quiet for a short while, Don watching how the cold distance transforms to something new, something like pity, but not exactly. Maybe curiosity with a touch of sadness. Like he wants to hear the answer and doesn't. Like he wants to know what made Don come here but doesn't want to hear it. Like he knows it could change everything between them, all the anger he's been carrying with him since the ice rink-case melting away, leaving only the torn pieces of his old love. "Laurel Hitchin", Donald says quietly. Another shiver runs through his body as he feels Julian's hand falling away. They're silent again; Don trying to figure out how to confess a murder and all the shit that followed it, and Julian thinking about how Hitchin might as well have fired him. She may have been an awful person, but she didn't deserve to die. In Don's experience, there's no one who deserves to die; at least that used to be his opinion. He's not so sure about it now. I killed her. I killed her. I killed her. I killed her. The words are on the tip of his tongue, but that's where they stay. He can't push them over the edge, can't make his vocal chords work and his lips form the vowels and consonants. He tries in vain, again and again, until Julian is looking at him again like he knows Donald's struggle. "She's dead", Julian says, tone neutral, and Don can't read from it how much Julian knows or at least suspects. He nods. Remembers her laying on her kitchen floor, pool of blood growing larger second by sickening second. "I didn't mean to ---", he stammers, and Julian's eyes grow wide like he didn't expect this confession. "Shit", he breathes and rubs a hand over his face. It stops over his mouth and chin and he looks straight ahead into the darkness that has settled around them like their own private bubble where there's room for confessions and guilt and maybe even forgiveness; room that the bright sun of the day doesn't allow. "That's why you're such a mess? Jesus, Don,

I ---" But he doesn't continue. Donald doesn't want to hear another I'm sorry from Julian, and he doesn't want to hear that he's fucked up either. He just wants to forget. "It gets worse", he says and Julian looks up, surprise and pain and dread lining his features, and he suddenly looks much older than he is. Still beautiful, and Don has to swallow against the sudden feeling of belonging that rises in his chest; like he's home, like this has been his home all along, and it will be until they're old and grey and dying of old age in each others' arms --- only that it's a fantasy, a feverish dream he's having. Before Don can continue though, Julian stands up and disappears inside the cabin without another word. He can't blame him. With a sigh he stays where he is, watching the sky again that's now completely dark, and he doesn't know if he isn't actually watching the invisible dance of the trees. His mind is completely blank now and it's a more than welcome change. Before he knows it, Julian is back with two bottles of beer in one hand and a pack of cigarettes in the other. Wordlessly, he gives one of the already opened bottles to Don who takes it with only slightly shaking hands, then sits back down, takes a gulp of beer, puts it down on the ground beside his chair, and takes a cigarette out of the pack. He offers one to Don but he declines with a shake of his head. The small flame of the lighter makes Julian's face flicker orange and yellow, the shadows making the lines on his forehead and around his eyes and mouth dance and seem deeper than in the light of day. For the few seconds it lasts, he looks almost angelic in a rough, strange way. "I called the cleaner who used to work for her", he says before he can think about it. "His name's Henry Prescott." The smell of burnt tobacco lulls him in, like they're back in Julian's old apartment, in his bed after an evening of slow sex, bliss and heavy limbs and soft words forever interlinked with it. It almost makes the bile that's threatening to rise after the mention of Prescott's name stay down. Julian's eyes are on him again, calmer now, but also more distanced than before. Don can barely make them out through the dark of night, but from experience he knows Gale won't say any more. He needs all the facts, and Don's the only one who can provide those. He looks back to where the lake must be, now an invisible black hole between the equally black woods. He thinks it must be easy now that he's started, but the words won't come, his mind preoccupied with keeping the images at bay, the memories of dead bodies and blood and the smell of bleach and ammonia. He closes his eyes for a minute, the shivers returning, rocking his body against his will, and he's going to be sick if the stink of chemicals doesn't leave his nose soon --- He wishes Julian would touch him again, ground him somehow like he used to, but he doesn't. Don doesn't look up either. He needs to carry on. "He found out who I was", he says eventually, strangled, struggling to keep talking. "Blackmailed me into working for him." He rubs his free hand over his face, pressing down over his eyes to get rid of the images and the smell, and for a moment it's like Julian isn't even there, like he's not listening, like Don can say anything he wants to the dark emptiness he's surrounded by. He takes a few gulps of the beer but doesn't set it down. "Fuck, I --- the things I did. The shit I was forced to do and I, I didn't even fight it. I was too afraid to - I don't know, lose my job, my reputation, my friends", it breaks out of him now, and a laugh forces its way through his constricted throat at the irony of the words. He feels Julian shift next to him, reminding Don of his presence, but he doesn't turn to look at him. "I did every fucking thing he told me to. Drove around dead bodies in car trunks. Buried and unburied them. Scrubbed blood off walls and carpets and beds. --- How the fuck can anyone forgive me for that? How can you?" He takes another large sip of the beer, now risking a glance at

Julian. His cigarette has almost burnt down completely, leaving a tail of ash threatening to fall onto Julian's lap; he hasn't taken a drag since Don has started speaking. Instead he's looking at Donald, almost staring through him, and Don doesn't know what to make of that. He doesn't think he's ever seen that expression on Julian. "I should never have come", he says curtly because he can't face the silence now. "I'm sorry. I should never have -- I guess I know now that I deserved it." The calm that settles in his bones surprises him. He looks back up to the sky, clear and beautiful where it shines through the trees, and now he can make out tiny bright dots, stars spattered across it like the splashes of watercolor over paper when he was a kid. He can feel tears behind his eyes and he knows this is the last time he will be home. Knows it's the last time he gets to feel something other than guilt and dread. Maybe he should get up and leave now, having done enough damage as it is, but something inside him urges him to stay, to tell Julian the whole truth, make him understand. He needs Julian to tell him to fuck off; needs his rejection to be at peace and go home. Somewhere, anyway. "He didn't stop there", he says, and he knows it's his only chance to ever articulate it; if he doesn't say it now he'll be silent forever. Besides him, Julian tenses. He's been tense for the last couple of minutes, but now his back is straight in a way that it almost never is, but Donald needs to get those next few words out. He feels strangely detached from his body and mind and memories. "Sometimes he would force me on my knees, make me suck him off", he starts, and it's easier to say it out loud than it should be, "and sometimes he would bend me over the hood of the car or tie me to the bed post in whatever hotel he'd stay in. I took it every time. I thought I didn't have a choice." And he's smiling now, the weight on his shoulders, his lungs, his mind so much lighter, and he doesn't even mind the trembling of his hands, of his whole body. He just lets it happen. "Until my conscience finally made me put a stop to it. I arrested him. Wrote my confession. And left. But I'm still too much of a coward to face the consequences, instead I'm running from everything." He lets his head fall. This shouldn't be this easy, he tells himself, but then again, with Julian nothing is as it should be. "Swallowing one pill after the other, sleeping in the mud, always looking over my shoulder. That's no life. That's - that's Hell, Julian." Finally, he looks back at his old love, a flood of emotions racing through him like a tsunami, and he chokes out: "I deserve it. All of it. What Prescott did to me. I gotta live with it. I'm ---" But the words die on his lips as he feels Julian's arms around his neck, and hot breath against his ear, and fingers tangling in his hair. He stops breathing for a few seconds, brain catching up with the sensations, and Julian is embracing him like he knows it's the last time, or like he's sorry, or like his life depends on it. "Just so you know", Julian rasps against Don's cheek, "I really fucking want to punch you right now. I wanna - wanna throw you against the wall and just - punch you until I can't move my arm anymore. Okay? Got that?" Donald nods silently, still stunned by the sudden embrace. He didn't think Julian would ever want to touch him again, wouldn't even want to be near him again. "No one", Julian says, "No one - deserves shit like that." And then he stammers like he wants to say every word he knows at the same time while simultaneously not knowing what to say altogether, before giving up with a hissed "Fuck". Don knows this, knows that sometimes, Julian's brain is faster than his mouth, and then he stumbles over words like an excited child. "What the fuck am I supposed to do with you, huh?", he asks quietly, still not letting go, and now Don puts the bottle down and returns the embrace. Carefully, very carefully, like he might freak Julian out, like he might realize then what he's doing and

drop Donald like a hot potato. Donald shakes his head no; doesn't want to be dropped, not now, not when he's this close to Julian; shakes his head because he doesn't know what he's supposed to do now either. The idea that's been in the back of his head, whose existence he completely ignored until now, that's probably the reason he came here in the first place, creeps into his consciousness now, and his grip around Julian's ribs tightens. "I just--- wanted to apologize for everything I did to you. I ruined your career, your life. I lied to you, I betrayed you. And I'm so sorry, Julian, I'm - I'm so fucking sorry." He loosens his grip again so he can look at Julian who looks up. His eyes are wet and dark and so damn beautiful, and now they're only inches apart. He could kiss him now, ruin everything all over again for a short moment of bliss, but he doesn't. "Me too", Julian says quietly, and his voice is soft like torn velvet. "I wish you wouldn't have come here. Let me keep my anger. But I guess you have this way of making me forgive everything you do. You're impossible, Don, you know that and I, just, hate you so, so much right now, I fucking - I hate you so much ---" "I know", Don whispers against Julian's cheek as their faces are pressed together, stubble against stubble, words escaping them that neither of them hears, lips against skin, not exactly kissing, but mouthing apologies and curses that get lost in the night. "I was so angry for so long, thinking about you, and the shit you did, the - the way it had to end", Julian rasps, tension falling off his body, too tired to keep on shivering. "I kept asking myself why the fuck you'd work with him --- how you could stand looking Reddington in the eye day after day and not - not see all that he cost us. Except I realised you did see, and you just didn't care." "Julian, I ---", he interrupts, but Julian keeps talking. "And I took that as justification to curse you and to hate you, and I did, you know, I really did, but... then I realised it was Reddington and I -- I chalked you up as just another casualty, another person he ruined, because you - you might just as well have been dead, you know? I fucking buried you." Julian chokes a little at that, but his grip at the back of Don's head doesn't weaken. "I know him, Don, I, uh, I know how he is. How he will put you under his spell and pull you in and never let go. Just... Just tell me this." And he looks up again, eyes red rimmed even in the darkness, and Don wants nothing more than to kiss those tears away, but he can't. He owes Julian, and even though he doesn't know what he wants to ask, he knows he needs to give an honest answer. No more lies. No more. Julian's searching his face and seems to have found what he's been looking for when he finally speaks up again after long moments of silence. "Did you love him?" The question should surprise Donald. It doesn't. He looks down, unable to meet Julian's unrelenting gaze. Thinks back to the box and the hotel room in Washington and the flight from Munich back to the states. Slowly, without looking up, he nods. No more lies. Here it comes. "Yeah", he says quietly even though he knows Julian has seen his nod. "I did. But never like I loved you." The words just come, mindlessly spilling over his lips, and he means them; he still doesn't look up. Doesn't want to see the disgust and rejection in Julian's eyes. The moment stretches like someone stopped time, stopped the entire universe, and Donald doesn't mind one bit. If it means having this last moment with Julian, even if it's filled with uncertainty, he'll gladly spend eternity frozen in time like this. Julian's fingers are still in his hair, his gaze still focussed on Donald. He's still though, not moving, and if it wasn't for his heavy breath, Don would have thought Julian might really be frozen. Then the moment ends. "Okay", Julian says, simple but heavy, like this truth lifted some weight off of him that Donald didn't know Julian was carrying. He looks up now, unable to keep his

gaze away any longer, and he doesn't know what to make of Julian's expression. There's no disgust. There's no rejection. There's understanding and sadness locked away in the tears that are sticking to his eyelashes, shimmering in the pale light of the moon that's slowly beginning to shine through the trees. Donald doesn't understand it; Julian is supposed to be upset, angry, pushing him away, throwing him out on the street to rot --- not drawing soothing circles over the back of his head, not looking at him like that, like they can fix this, like Donald is finally home --- "I'm, uh... I'm going to the police. Tonight. I just wanted you to know that I'm sorry. My sad attempt to make things right." He has to look away again, Julian's focussed, open gaze too much for him. "Guess I couldn't... leave without having told you. And I'm - I'm not asking for forgiveness here. I know I can never have that. I just needed to see you. Make sure you're alright, so..." He clears his throat, realizing that they've only been talking about him and never once about Julian. Fuck, how egoistic can he be! "How're you doing?", he asks, and Julian is still clinging to him, just as he's clinging to Julian. "Oh, I'm fine", Julian laughs, but it doesn't reach his eyes. "Julian -", Donald starts. He doesn't need his bullshit now. "Really, Don, things couldn't be better. I've read that in my horoscope." He still smiles, a little crooked like he's holding something back, something big, and now Ressler's hand comes up to cup Julian's face. Again, the thought of just kissing him comes to mind, but they're so fragile, both of them, it would only leave them shattered for good. Instead, he lets his thumb stroke the thick stubble and he doesn't say a word. Julian closes his eyes, leaning into the touch, and for a few precious moments, Donald can pretend they're happy. "Stay", Julian says and Donald freezes. Thinks he must have misheard Julian, who looks up now from where he kneels in front of Don's chair, his own hand leaving the blonde hair to rest at Don's jaw. "What?", he asks. It's more of a breath though, no sound escaping his lips. "I'm - yeah, I'm fucking pissed at you right now, but all of this... it - it doesn't change anything. Y'know, I still mean it." And they're so close still, and Donald has lost track of what's happening, and confused, he shakes his head. "What do you mean?", he asks. "Trondheim. Remember that?" He does. It was the beginning of March and so cold even the hotel room in New York with the broken heater seemed like a tropical vacation in comparison. It wasn't the first time they said I love you, but it was the first time they talked about the future. Before, they would stay in the moment, too afraid of letting go, of losing the other over naïve fantasies of a life together. That night though, they didn't need to be scared. "Whatever happens", Julian said, "I'll never walk away. How could I, huh? Guess I'm too far gone." He smiled, and so did Donald, pressing a kiss to Julian's collarbone. "Fifty years from now", Julian continued, "I'll still think of you. Every fucking day." That earned him a kiss on the lips, chaste and innocent and full of love like they've never experienced before. "Don't matter if you're still with me or not. You don't forget the love of your life, Donnie. I won't forget. Not us. Not this. Never. I could never let you go. Ever." But back then, Julian couldn't have imagined where they would end up one day. "It was different back then", Don says. Not because he doesn't want Julian's words to be true, but because he doesn't think himself worth them. "Yeah, it was", Julian answers, "but tell me you don't feel it still. Tell me, Donnie, and I'll let you go." Donald's answer is silence because, yes, of course he still feels it, that love that's deeper than any feeling he's ever known, deeper even than the shame and guilt and pain of the recent months, years, but doesn't Julian know that it's pointless? That Don's life is over? The silence stretches on and he can't hold

Julian's gaze. "I know", Julian says, "I know." And those words are enough to set him free, to liberate him from his cage of anger and self-pity and guilt and self-imposed punishment - he knows those won't go away anytime soon, but he still feels like breaking down, mercy too much to handle when he knows he's undeserving of forgiveness. He lets his head fall, knowing Julians hands are there to steady him. They do, cradling him like a newborn child, and in a way that might be true: maybe, somehow, this can be a new life, a new start for him; a clean slate. Maybe now, he can forget all of it, all the shit that happened, the person he was - the person he was forced to become --- maybe this is the one chance in life for rebirth. "I'm a mess", he says. "I know", Julian answers. "We can figure it out. Together." "You deserve better." "Shut it now, Donnie. I think I know best what I deserve, huh? I've given up everything for you, y'know, twice. You know what I think it is I deserve? Hm? What we deserve?" Donald looks up, feeling Julian's breath against his lips as much as the intensity of his gaze, those brown eyes so familiar in their depth it makes his heart ache. He wants to answer, say something, anything at all, but no words will leave his lips. He feels trapped there between Julian's closeness and the chair, but there's no place he'd rather be. He holds Julian's gaze for a few moments before shaking his head. "Peace, Donnie. I think we deserve peace after all this. Just a little, don't you think?" And that sounds good, far too good to be true, and he can't help the laugh that bubbles out of him. "Yeah", he says finally, voice constricting, "I want that. I want that, Julian." A smile is still tugging at the corners of his mouth when Julian kisses him, slow and unsure and not at all like the many kisses they used to share; it's like a first kiss, a promise for an uncertain future, a vow to try. To give it time and let wounds heal - they're all they have, after all. "You're not going to the police", Julian says as they part. "We will figure this out. Get you clean. And in fifty years we'll still be here, okay, I won't lose you again, I couldn't, couldn't bury you again, I'll ---" And as Donald kisses the doubts and fears away, for the first time in years he has the feeling that everything might turn out okay; that he might be deserving of happiness after all. That finally, finally he's home. _______________________________________

[whatissleepeven]

I -

I can't stop thinking about it -

About what, you ask?

An Obey Me! and Fate/Grand Order crossover

(Warning: Long post ahead!)

Either the bois get summoned to Chaldea or they're able to summon Servants themselves

(...I'm leaning towards the first)

The tomfoolery! The shenanigans!

Imagine: Humanity's Last Master (aka you) ends up summoning them as they trek through Rome with Mash and the Servants they already summoned

They set up the summoning circle, but one minor mistake is made and the summoning glow looks a bit darker than usual and BOOM

"S-...Senpai...is this normal?"

You have no idea what's normal or not, I mean you're time travelling to save your people for fucks sake -

"Servant of the Rider Class. My True Name is Lucifer. Do not expect me to cater to your every whim."

...Wait he's a what now??

They were not supposed to have this whole "Class" thing designated to them (it's not how demonic summoning works he swears), and yet they do for some reason

(You can tell I had fun thinking of their Classes)

The introductions are...cold, to say the least

"Saber Class Servant, and none other than The Great Mammon, Avatar of Greed! I got better things to be doing, so don't go calling me whenever ya want, got it?!"

"Lancer Class...Leviathan. I have an mmorpg raid coming up, so I can't stick around."

"Berserker Class. My name is Satan. What? Are you surprised that I seem calm for a Berserker? It's quite alright; I get that reaction often enough. A word of advice: Be careful what you wish for."

"My name is Asmodeus, but you can call me Asmo darling! I'm a Caster, which is good. I can't mess up the work done on my nails and hair!"

"Hm...Oh? Sorry, I was thinking about lunch. Servant Class: Ruler. I'm Beelzebub, but most people call me Beel. Do you have any snacks on you?"

"Servant Class: Avenger. My name is Belphegor, but I doubt you'll be alive long enough to remember that. I won't do your dirty work for you, human."

You are just...done at that point. You are literally carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders and their attitudes are not helping

"Yeah, yeah, here's the gist: there's a war going on and we're trying to save the planet. The future's been incinerated, and it's our job to fix what went wrong. I don't have time for your uncooperation; get on board."

(Mash is worried for your mental health)

It takes some time, but they do manage to open up to you

The main catalyst for this is when they heard you talking to Robin Hood, who was summoned in France

"Say, Master...I gotta ask: Why are you doing this?"

You pause what you're doing, shooting him an incredulous look. "You mean saving the world?" You ask in return.

He shrugs, tilting his head forward in a slight nod. "Yeah. There's other people who could do this, aren't there?"

"There isn't." The brothers hear you say firmly. Beel almost went in because he wanted a snack, but the others held him back; the conversation had peaked their interest, and they wanted to hear what you had to say.

"Robin..." Your voice comes out strained, as if you were barely holding yourself together. "I watched innocent people die in front of me. Good people. The world outside is gone. I can't even go see my family, because they're dead. I'm not expecting you to understand, but it hurts so bad that somedays I don't feel like getting up. If I die, it's all over; humanity's done. I'll never be able to see my family's smiles again, I'll never be able to hear their laughter; I'll...I'll never be able to go back home.

"So, instead of asking why I'm doing this, you should be asking "How far are you willing to go?" instead."

Robin is silent for a while. Mammon shifts on his feet. The Green Archer finally speaks, somber but curious tone filling the air. "And? What's the verdict, Master?"

Your voice has a tone of finality to it that shoots them back to the past, back towards the Celestial War. It's final, but it's tired. "Whatever it takes."

(And, so, the brothers come to understand and even sympathize with your situation a little bit. You had to fight for the sake of others without rest, you were a leader, you were a savior, but most of all...you were alone. And something about that didn't sit right with them.)

They would fit in perfectly with Chaldea's dynamics, actually

Mammon has a gold sword he lovingly calls Goldie (yes it changes into his beloved credit card)

His Noble Phantasm is literally him raising his sword and mountains of Grimm burying his opponents from the sky as he cackles out:

"Don't worry, I'll take all that money off ya hands!"

Or, in a proud declaration:

"My sword is my love, and my love is my sin. I'll take all that you have on ya! STULTUS IN AVARITA!!"

(Translates (from Google) to "Greed of the Fool")

(It also gives you an increased drop rate in materials)

Leviathan's weapon is his trident

He's surprised that he wasn't summoned as a Rider, once he got used to the "Class" thing (which was fairly quick, he's seen an anime like this before). I mean, he has a giant snake named Henry 1.0 and Lothan that he would've loved to fight side by side with

He usually doesn't fight, but he proves to be invaluable in Okeanos since he has knowledge on war strategies at sea

His Noble Phantasm is a bit strange, but endearing (sad). He rushes forward with his trident glowing, saying either:

"I can't get the latest Ruri-chan merch because you blew up the world...I won't forgive you. I can't forgive you!"

Or, in a somber tone:

"Even though it's fun, a gamer's life becomes stifling if you keep playing by yourself. I hope you're watching, (Y/N)! EX SOLA INVIDIA!!"

(Translates (from Google) to "Envy of the Lonely")

(Chance of Death increases with Overcharge, and it hits a single enemy)

Satan? Even though he's a Berserker, he behaves more like a Caster (initially)

He's holding a book that shoots out beams of pure energy at his opponents

His Noble Phantasm is...more violent

"Ah, so you've decided to call upon my Noble Phantasm...don't blame me if it's too much for you."

Or, he begins in a deathly calm voice:

"I am me; that's all I need to be. I know this, so why...? Why does this happen? TELL ME! "

He discards his books altogether, grabbing a single enemy with his bare hands and ripping them to shreds.

Asmo’s skill is charming his enemy, which confuses most people since you’d think it’d be his Noble Phantasm

Instead, it boosts his allies’ attacks and NP by 30%

“Don’t get too hurt out there~!”

Beel’s Noble Phantasm heals all allies and increases their attack

“We can’t fight on an empty stomach.”

(Once he hits his last Ascension, your party gets the added bonus of him attacking a single enemy with a lance. All other Ascensions has him using his fists for attacks.)

Belphie’s Noble Phantasm is almost as violent as Satan’s, and yes...he chokes out a single enemy out (rip MC)

“HA! You think I’d work with the likes of you, a lowly human? Get out of my sight.”

It’s Instant Death, unless Evasion or Invincibility is activated

Lucifer’s pride is a bit wounded. He’s a Rider, of all things??

(...He eventually gets used to it though)

His Noble Phantasm is him literally mounting Cerberus and raising his spear towards the heavens, looking as radiant as the days before the Fall

“It seems drastic times call for drastic measures. Cerberus, I trust you to handle things here.”

And Cerberus runs forth, either chomping the enemy in two or breathing fire at them and turning them into ash. (It hits everyone)

Satan and Jekyll hang out a lot because, well...they’re a lot alike

Mammon can and will do stupid shit with the Cu Squad and you cannot change my mind

One time he teamed up with Cascu to steal the other Cu’s spears (Mammon wanted to sell them on Akuzon), and well...half of Chaldea is still in repair to this day

Merlin of all Servants is the one to look after Belphie and Beel

They usually hang out in the garden Robin tends to, Asterios occasionally joining them while bringing both food and Euryale

Asmo frequently visits Medea, dragging Medusa into their group

(Dantes grows fond of Beel overtime, I mean Beel is just so pure there’s no way you couldn’t like him)

Lucifer and EMIYA butt heads at first, but they end up becoming friends despite that

Lucifer admires EMIYA’s skill to keep up with Servants who have a black hole for a stomach, and EMIYA admires Lucifer’s skill to round up his brothers effortlessly when the need to arises (or so he thinks, because he does not know about the Hate Lucifer Club which is run by Satan and Belphie).

Levi and Fran have a pure kind of friendship that must be protected at all costs

He shows her new animes and games, and even though she’s confused most of the time she never fails to listen to his ramblings, nodding whenit was appropriate

BONUS: Undateables (+ Luke)!

Solomon’s situation is...peculiar.

He’s not a Servant, but he behaves like one??

(He’s actually a mage that helps you on your journey to save humanity)

Unlike Da Vinci, he’s able to accompany you to the Singularities (free of charge, too!)

Once he sees the other Solomon, all he says is “I see...interesting.”

(Ngl he probably figured out everything by the time you all went to Okeanos)

Asmo also drags him into his group (consisting of Medea and Medusa), offering to paint his nails as they talk about anything and everything

Simeon is a Lancer and you can’t change my mind

He’s more of a buffer for your team, like Asmo. His skills are primarily healing, and his NP saps the health of an opponent while healing someone other than himself with that health (he cannot heal himself)

He gets along great with Karna!! The two are so nice and kind that it hurts to look at them both for too long

Solomon tells him about the gossip Asmo has on the other Servants. He always listens with an amused look on his face.

Luke is a smol Caster, but he will not hesitate to break your kneecaps

He, too, is a buffer for your team

“I’ll defend you from those demons, (Y/N)!”

His Noble Phantasm heals all allies, restoring their health by 20%

He bakes with Fsn Cu at night, having Proto Cu and Robin Hood try out his sweets. Beel is there 10/10 times, eating any failures or rejects

Diavolo is Ruler Class because he is literally the Ruler of Hell

Surprisingly (to you, at first), he’s the one who always asks to accompany you. He’s very open and considerate, wanting to help wherever and whenever he can

“The Human Realm is essential if we are to establish harmony between the three Realms. Without it there...angels and demons would fight each other for eternity.”

He tells you about his ideas for an exchange program and you offer him input

His Noble Phantasm is applying Invincibility to two allies for 3 turns after dealing heavy damage to a single enemy (cannot apply Invincibility to himself)

He likes to talk with Caster Gil and Archer Gil about their past, going to Ko Gil on occasion. He helps look after the child Servants, and he can often be found reading bedtime stories to them

(Everyone was scared of him at first once they found out who he was, so he usually held off revealing his True Identity)

Barbatos, at first glance, seems like an Archer...but in reality is an Assassin

(HE CONTROLS TIME FOR F*S SAKE)

His Noble Phantasm, depending on the enemy selected, can revive a fallen ally and add them to the Sub Team

(This is only if the enemy that killed the ally is selected)

This stuns him for 3 turns no matter what

He likes to chat with the Tamamo that helps EMIYA in the kitchen. How the two are communicating without issues is up to anyone’s guess

[alabaster-retro]

Age of Empires II: Age of Kings

I suppose I should provide a little bit of information about how I’m writing these. Basically, if I don’t still own the game, I’m buying it and playing it until one of the following happens: I finish the game, I lose interest in the game, or several hours have passed and I should probably start writing. If I do still own the game, same deal, but cut out the part where I buy it. While most of the games I’m gonna be playing are very popular, I’ll also seek to provide a little bit of information about each game just to catch anyone up who isn’t familiar. AoE 2 has ended up in that category of “ several hours have passed and I should probably start writing.” As much as RTS games stress me out, there is something so so engaging about them that I can’t help but get drawn in for hours and hours playing both quick games and the campaign scenarios. I went through the trouble of trying to track down the copy of AoE2 that has been in my house literally as long as I can remember. Surprisingly, I was able to find it. Even more surprisingly, it still has the instruction manual in it. Remember when games used to come with nearly 200 page encyclopedias? Good times. I have several fond memories of riding home in the backseat of my parent’s car having just bought a new game reading through the manual and just getting more and more excited to play the game once I got home.

Please don’t steal my decades old product key for AoE2

This thing has 8 chapters, an appendix, *and* an index. What more could you want?

Anyway, instead of digging up an optical drive to see if I could convince this disc to work with Windows 10, I realized that I owned the 2013 HD edition on steam and just booted that up instead. If I didn’t already own AoE2 HD (2013) I probably would have splurged for the definitive edition that came out in 2019. As you might be gathering, this game still has a pretty substantial following, and that’s for good reason. Age Of Empires is a series of real time strategy games that put you in charge of building up a small kingdom, using villagers to gather resources, then using those resources to build new buildings, create new units, research new technologies, and advance to new ages. The game has 4 Ages (Dark, Feudal, Castle, Imperial) which roughly divide technological, historical, and power elements of the game. Each Age takes more resources to advance to than the last and provides greater opportunities for growth and power. The basis of strategy in Age of Empires is properly spending your resources so that you grow and advance while also not leaving yourself defenseless and while also moving towards victory in some way. The micromanagement and fast decision making involved is absolutely what gives the game depth but also is what makes the game really really stressful.

How do I turn this on?

Most of my memories of this game involve using cheat codes to summon a massive army of Shelby Cobras to over run my enemy. This time around I decided to take things a little more reasonably and not use gun-cars against my opponents. I immediately hopped into a 1v1 match against a computer on the easiest difficulty. I got my ass handed to me as I was out scaled in everyway, out resourced, and beaten to every single Age advancement. It turns out, this game is hard. So I read a strategy article on a PvP technique called “Fast Castle,” which is about getting to the Castle Age very quickly while scaling resource production. With my new knowledge in hand, I jumped back into another game and soundly trounced my computer opponent. Take that, robots. At this point, I was sensing that playing these matches continually against the computer was going to get boring and pointless very fast, but I’m still far too much of a wuss to try my hand at the game’s PvP so it was time for the campaign scenarios.

As Frederick Barbarossa, I set about uniting the Holy Roman Empire and fucking shit up with Henry the Lion. Honestly, the campaigns in Age of Empires 2 are tons of fun and they actually taught me a ton more history as a kid than any of my classes did. I will always remember Henry the Lion saying “So! You have come to hear the tale of Frederick Barbarossa?” at the start of the Barbarossa campaign (spoiler alert, the narrator in the tavern is Henry the Lion). I don’t have time to play through all campaigns right now (there are 20+ of them each with like 5ish 30-60 minute scenarios, so you do the math on that) but I’ll probably be taking them all on in the future.  In conclusion, AoE 2 absolutely hold up and it looks and plays exactly how I remember it. If you’re into RTSes or have fond memories, I think the definitive edition would probably worth your time and money. Maybe you’ll be less of a wuss than me and take on some other players in PvP. :P

[spiltscribbles]

Quiet Things

Alex doesn’t get jealous.

It’s just not a thing that he does, has never thought it worth while. For a majority of his life he was too busy with school and Lacrosse and plotting out his eventual path to the presidency, to ever even fathom caring too terribly if the girl he was seeing was flirting with some other guy, or was being flirted with. Besides, it’s not his place to get all angry about it. If she liked him more than Alex, well he  had no right to interfere in  that, there’s something called free fucking will. 

“Nah, ’S because you’re too obsessed with yourself,” Nora had told him three weeks after their first break up in that somewhat snide tone of voice that she can pull out as effortlessly as her future professor monotone. 

“Slanderous,” Alex had sniffed before taking a huge ass bite out his burrito— thank God that Chipotle’s a national commodity now, which means they could stuff themselves silly before the second national debate . 

“Accurate my friend,” Nora had retorted with a clucking of her tongue, stealing his side order of chips and  queso while Alex was to busy glaring a hole through the glossy photograph of Prince Henry of Wales that’s the front cover of Vogue Italiano’s newest spread.   “You’ll always love yourself most.”

“Well yeah babe, I’m the only one who could appreciate me in all the right ways.”

“The only one who can stand you for longer than an hour you mean?”

Alex had pouted, teasingly, and Nora had laughed, adoringly, and neither of them really took it to heart. It was a bit of a quirk, his self absorption that is. Nora and June had noted it fondly for an eon, it wasn’t some new revelation.

Though What was n entirely new revelation was how only a few short years later, Alex fell head first for the fucking pretentious— not actually pretentious— prince of Wales, realizing he was definitely bisexual all along, and being forcefully outted by the old fuck trying to oust his mother from the oval office before her destined eight years are up. All in that order. 

God have times changed.

Alex supposes that it’s only right that amidst all of that, he also changed along the way, that he found a guy— a literal Prince amongst men— that makes his heart thud out an uneven staccato with every glance. Someone who makes it so Alex’s ADHD wired brain goes still, goes hyper focussed on him. On Henry’s pretty pale eyes and lovely thin lips and the way one corner of his mouth tugs upwards before the other every time he smiles. He found a guy who he chooses every day to spend his forever with, the first person that makes his knees go weak and the first person that Alex admits is  probably his only match. Found the guy he loves more than any other— His person, the one he’d give up the world to be with. The guy who makes his analytical mind shut off in favor for the idea that in all probability soulmates can exist…? And if so, Henry’s more than probably his.

All this to say, Alex now gets it when June— his delightfully neurotic sister— starts asking him a thousand times over if she looks okay in whichever dress she’s got on after she sees an Instagram post with Pez, forever adventuring a new part of the world, tagging a different girl, or when Nora doesn’t realize she’s being flirted with at her new internship at the Brookings Institute by another grad student. “Just cause I fuck dudes now doesn’t mean I suddenly get what’s trendy~” “You’re fucking one dude and only one dude.” “I think you just proved my point?”) 

Suddenly Alex wishes June were here, even in all her craziness, at least then he could have an honest analysis on what’s playing out right in front of him, in the middle of fucking douchebag Phillip’s birthday party. Just there, out in public, right next to the table holding up the thirty four thousand dollar cake. And oh! Look! The fucking gross ass  prick just snuck a finger to lick off some of the frosting!

Desecrating stupidly expensive desserts is there thing damn it!

The aforementioned prick is all high cheekbones and long lashes and such big brown eyes. He’s Hassan Nair, “Call me Haz.” No Alex will fucking not, thank you very much.

The prick, as Alex will be referring to him here forth, is the son of some Dubai business magnate, worth probable billions and is so sickeningly pretty that Alex would feel bad if he wasn’t dating the literal prettiest man alive, he’s kinda accustomed  with  not being exactly the hottest guy in a room.  But fucking prick boy must concede the point if the way he’s been gazing down at henry since this shindig has begun is anything to go by, and Jesus Christ, is it actually fair that he’s like half a foot taller than Alex too! No it’s not! None of this is fair! 

Alright, okay. This is not cool. Alex should not be just lurking in the shadows like some sort of Twilight love interest, gazing hopelessly at Henry and letting this totally new and totally unwelcome feeling— a bit envious, a lot inferior, and just slightly worried— be eating him hole. He’s fucking Alex Claremont Diaz. He’s the son of the American President! He’s going to an amazing law school! He’s hot and smart and fun damn it. And Henry chose him! Henry chose him when he first plunged down to kiss him, this edge of frantic, the night of that New Year’s party. Henry chose him when they stood hand in hand facing the crowds with their chins tipped high and their love holding strong. Henry chose him when he bought that Brownstone in New York and adopted a dog with Alex’s name as the co owner. 

Truly? Who is Hassan Nair in the face of all of that?

Alex watches him wink at Henry for the third time in the past five minutes and he sees red.

God damn it the prick does look like a One Direction stand-in, doesn’t he?

Fully intending to just find Beatrice  and bitch about Hassan fucking Nair to her, Alex swigs down his Bellini, but stutters still when Henry pivots around, his ever alert eyes softening once catching on him. 

Damn it, Alex is a weak, weak man.

“Lost you in the crowds?” Henry asks in greeting once Alex saddles up to them, slinging an arm around Henry’s waste in a way that Alex prays comes off nonchalant.

“Didn’t wanna just intrude,” Alex corrects, brow kinked playfully. “I’m not so gauche.”

Henry rolls his eyes heavenwards, but Alex knows he’s reluctantly charmed when that ghost of a smile passes across his lips.

“You once dragged me out from a conversation I was having with President Macron because you wanted to compete over who could catch the most bugs.”

“Hey! They were fireflies not just bugs you ass!” Alex charges, fully indignant now. “And you���re only pissy because my jar was like a thousand times brighter than yours!”

“You started for like a quarter of an hour longer,” Henry says airily, pale head tilted, imperious. 

“Excuses don’t become you sweet cheeks.” Alex informs him, positively gleeful over the dusting of red that comes over his elegant features.

“Ahem,” the prick interrupts with a cough, eyes skewering Alex. “I don’t think we’ve met?”

“We have,” Alex corrects with a thin lipped smile. “At Phillip’s wedding— Erm ah before the incident.”

“I don’t recall,” the prick just shrugs, turning his full attention back to Henry, and yikes Alex has to give him props, he’s definitely mastered the cold dismissal thing down pat. “Henry we should grab lunch soon, it’s been ages since we’ve caught up.”

Did this guy just ask out Henry right in front of Alex? What the actual fuck?

“Of course,” Henry says in that blithe, detached sounding way he does whenever he’s trying to be polite and doesn’t know how to react. Fuck is Alex so happy he knows how to decipher his different moods. “But I reckon Alex and i best get going, we promised a friend that we’d meet them for dinner.”

The prick’s bright eyes dim and he just nods. “I’ll call you?”

“Sure,” Henry grabs for Alex’s hand and it’s the best fucking feeling in the world.

.-

“Didn’t know we promised any such thing your highness?” Alex goads as they slip into the rental car, Amy and Shaan in a separate one tracking them back to the castle.

“I needed an excuse Alexander, and I never claimed to be above fibbing if it means I get to escape social situations,” Henry intones, lying back with his eyes shut. Sometimes Alex has to catch his breath when looking at him, sometimes forgets just how stunning he is. 

With a swallow, Alex forces his eyes back on the road and wills himself to sound normal.

“He seemed nice?”

Henry’s lip quirks and fuck, apparently he’s just as easy to read.

“You hated him.”

“Did not.”

“Did so.”

“I did not!”

“Lying doesn’t become you sweet cheeks,” Henry parrots in a nasally voice that Alex refuses to call an imitation of him.

“He looks like a privileged prick,” Alex finally admits, feels his heart swell at the casual way Henry clamps a hand against his thigh, squeezing lightly.

“I reckon you thought the same of me not too long ago,” Henry prods.

“Oh I definitely still do babe,” Alex snorts, winces slightly when Henry moves to pinch his side instead. “Ouch.”

“You’re rude.”

“I love you,” Alex soothes, picks up Henry’s hand and kisses the tops of his fingers dotingly. “’s Why I was so annoyed by his flirting with you so blatantly.”

Henry stiffens slightly before relaxing, flickers his gaze to Alex’s profile meaningfully. “He was not flirting.”

Alex scoffs.

“He was literally undressing you with his eyes the entire night!”

“We’re old friends,” Henry says weakly, pillar going pale. And Alex suddenly remembers what Henry had told him over a year ago now. That his first time was with one of Philip’s old school friends when he was only seventeen. That they were both firmly in the closet and understood how to keep things quiet. That Henry appreciates it for what it was but was still so confused and terrified  and lonely in the aftermath. 

And oh, it makes sudden sense now.

He wonders what different sorts of expressions must be playing across his face at this moment because Henry’s just goes sad, presses closer to him. 

“I think you’re my first love,” he says, and Alex can read the words that go unspoken that hug around the non sequitur. 

“Me too,” he assures him.

Henry nods, soft and slow, before he presses a kiss to the hinge of Alex’s jaw, the corner of his mouth, lands on the hollow of his cheek. “From the first moment Alex Claremont Diaz,” he says in the same voice he had right before their first kiss. “I knew you were it, no matter how hopeless it seemed or how much you evidently hated me. I new you were it.”

It’s Alex’s turn to flush, tries tempting down his smile.

“Shut the fuck up you dork.”

“You’re so witty and quick and too smart for your own good,” Henry just continues on, adjusts himself so that he’s got a better look at him.

“So help me.”

 “You are so beautiful and bright, like a supernova, you know that?”

“Henry I swear to God I will kick your princely ass out and make you walk.”

Henry shakes his head with a tsk, tsk. “Such pretty lips and such a dirty mouth.” 

“Now you’re sounding like a porno,” Alex laughs.

“Shall I move onto complimenting your ass or would that be too explicit for your mild sensibilities?” Henry asks, mock owlish.

“I literally despise you,” Alex groans before pulling over on the side of the road and kissing him senseless.

He’s not sure how much time passes but is forced to move off him when Amy and Shaan begin beeping their horns in a crass cacophony of sound.

“Promise to help you with the tent downstairs once we get to bed,” Henry guffaws, and in turn Alex just repeats the fact that he utterly hates him with as much feeling as he could muster, goofy grin splitting his face in half all the while.

.-

Two weeks later they see the prick at one of Beatrice’s charity luncheons, and Henry doesn’t take his hand out of Alex’s back pocket the entire afternoon.

It’s fucking fantastic. 

[stahlop]

Once Upon a Time 2x14 “Manhattan” Review

Reviews 1x01 1x02 1x03 1x04 1x05 1x06 1x07 1x08 1x09 1x10 1x11 1x12 1x13 1x14 1x15 1x16 1x17 1x18 1x19 1x20 1x21 1x22 2x01 2x02 2x03 2x04 2x05 2x06 2x07 2x08 2x09 2x10 2x11 2x12 2x13

Well, holy shit! Neal and Baelfire are the same person! Who saw that coming (right, pretty much everyone)? And he’s still an asshole. Apparently Milah and Rumplestiltskin were actually in love with each other at one point, but she turned on him rather quickly. Emma is not in a good place right now. Not only has she discovered that fate is responsible for everything, but Henry has found out the truth about his father. Also, Cora wants the Dark One Dagger which can’t be good.

Summary: Emma discovers that Neal is Gold’s son and has to come to terms with that. Hook, Cora, and Regina find the map with the coordinates for the Dark One Dagger. In the Enchanted Forest, Rumplestiltskin gets called to be in the Ogres War, but a prophecy from a Seer has him taking desperate measures to go home.

Opening: NYC

Character Observations:

Rumplestiltskin/Gold: So, before he was a coward, before Milah was disgusted by the sight of him, Rumplestiltskin and Milah were actually in love. And he’s all about joining the Ogres War to prove he’s not a coward like his father (wow, let’s hope Henry doesn’t end up with the coward trait that apparently has plagued that family for the past three generations). After what I’m assuming is at least 6-7 months, Rumplestiltskin is tasked with guarding a crate for an officer who is called to the front. He is told it contains a beast that can help them win the Ogres War. It turns out to be a child who is a Seer (and she’s scary as all hell, eye sockets stitched up and actual eyes in her hands, who came up with that nightmare?). Rumplestiltskin won’t indulge hearing his future because it’s dark magic (oh the irony), but once the Seer starts talking about Milah, Rumplestiltskin is all in to hear what she has to say. He gives her water in exchange for what she has to say. She tells him Milah is already with child, a son (Rumplestiltskin is so happy about this news), but Rumplestiltskin’s actions on the battlefield tomorrow will leave him fatherless. Which he takes to mean he will die. But when the Seer refuses to give more information, Rumplestiltskin thinks she’s lying. She tells him they will meet again and he’ll help her again. He again accuses her of lying. She gives him one last vision of them riding cows into battle the next day so that he knows she is speaking the truth. She reiterates her original vision and Rumplestiltskin covers the crate back up. The next morning (early as the sun has not even risen yet), Rumplestiltskin sees injured men coming from the battlefield. A fellow soldier (also not wearing a hood of any kind) tells him they’re lucky because the only way you can go home from the Ogres War is if you’re injured and cannot fight anymore. The officer tells the troops that they have just received horses for battle. He calls the saddles cows, confirming what the Seer said about riding cows into battle. Rumplestiltskin is getting very worried now that the Seer’s vision has come true. He is convinced he will die in battle and never see Milah or meet his son. He goes to the Seer’s crate, but she is no longer there. He just happens to see a blacksmith’s mallet and decides he’s going to injure himself by bashing his knee. Why did he decide to do this before the battle? If he’d done this during the battle no one would have been the wiser that it wasn’t a battle injury and then he would’ve gone home a hero. But now we know how he got his limp and why he was branded a coward. So, apparently Rumplestiltskin had to walk home from the front on an injured knee (is that how all the injured had to get home, by walking?), and when he gets home, not only has Milah already had the baby, but she’s up and about and lost the baby weight (how long was Rumplestiltskin go for?). She does not look that happy to see him. Rumplestiltskin immediately asks what the baby’s name is before even saying hello to his wife (always with the names Rumple). When Milah tells him Baelfire, he’s ecstatic that she chose a strong name (no reasoning why she chose this name?), and that he’ll need it to live with the shame of being his son. Rumplestiltskin tries to justify his actions to Milah but she’s not having it. And here’s the Milah we’ve seen before, the one who hates her husband with the fires of 1000 suns. She brands him a coward like his father. Rumplestiltskin has had enough! His father tried to abandon him, he would never do the same to his child. Honestly, I wish we’d seen this episode before Desperate Souls, The Return, and The Crocodile, because then we’d have had great foreshadowing rather than a ‘look how much we’re going to run into the ground how Rumple loved his family, hated dark magic and would never abandon his son’ episode that shows us just how low he went by becoming the Dark One and abandoning all his ideals. Rumplestiltskin doesn’t know what Milah wanted him to do. She tells him he could have fought and died. He’s heartbroken about that, but instantly goes into loving father mode when she hands him Bae so she can go off and be alone. We next see Rumplestiltskin a little bit after Bae left, having found the Seer. He’s mad that, while what she told him was the truth, it didn’t pan out the way he thought it would. She should have told him the details. He wants to find his son. She tells him it will take many years and a curse. A curse he will not cast or break. He wants more details, she tells him she has limits. Rumplestiltskin doesn’t think that’s good enough. He tries to strangle the Seer into telling him more, but she tells him he needs to take her powers if he wants to see what he needs to do. He gladly does. He doesn’t understand it all when it hits him. The Seer tells him it’s a puzzle to be sorted and soon he’ll be able to distinguish between what could be and what will be. He accuses her of wanting to give him her power so she could be free from the torment of visions. She tells him he’ll work it all out. The Seer has one last vision before she dies which basically insinuates that Henry will be Rumplestiltskin’s undoing, whatever that means.

Gold is desperate to find his son. He has taken Emma and Henry as far as his magic could help him in finding Bae. An apartment building. Emma deduces that the one buzzer without a name belongs to his son, and he runs when they ring the bell. Gold tells Emma that the deal will be fulfilled when she brings his son back and he gets to talk with him. Henry tries to comfort Gold while they wait. Gold thanks him for bringing Emma to Storybrooke as none of this would have happened otherwise. Or you know, if Gold hadn’t been such a coward back in the day, he wouldn’t have ruined everyone’s lives by manipulating Regina into casting the curse and he could have been living with his son happily ever after. But potato, po-tah-to. Henry tells Gold that he forgave Emma for giving him up because she did what she thought was best, and his son will forgive him too. Gold tells him the situation is quite different and not so noble. Henry thinks that because he is there now his son will have to forgive him too. Gold is getting exceedingly nervous. Henry doesn’t understand why; he was excited to meet his mom (oh, to have Henry’s optimism). Gold says that life experience has shown him that things don’t always go the way you want them to. Henry starts wondering why Gold didn’t just look into the future to find out how their reunion would go. Gold explains that trying to figure out visions of the future is more like a puzzle with missing pieces; difficult to read and never what you think. Emma comes back and tells them his son got away and Gold is disappointed. But not disappointed enough that he doesn’t break into the apartment to look for clues. Emma tries to dissuade him, telling him he could get arrested, but he uses that as an excuse for his son to have to see him to either press or drop charges. Gold notices Emma looking at a dreamcatcher in the apartment so he thinks she’s not telling him something and starts yelling at her. They go back and forth with Gold accusing Emma of knowing something and Emma saying she doesn’t until he finally threatens that he’ll make her tell him. Emma reminds him he has no magic here and Gold knocks something over and says no one breaks deals with him and then Neal comes in. Gold is in visible shock when he sees his son. Gold thinks Neal came to talk to him, but Neal says he just came to make sure he didn’t hurt Emma, as he’s seen what his father does to people who break deals. Gold just wants to talk to Neal, but Neal wants him out of his apartment. Emma tries to defuse the situation, but Gold realizes the two of them know each other, and the second Henry walks in, he puts it together. And he also puts together that Neal has inherited the abandoning his son trait that all the men in Rumplestiltskin’s line seem to fall victim to. Neal wants his father out of his apartment but Gold tells him the deal was for Emma to get Neal to talk to him. Neal gives him three minutes. And then Gold goes crazy, because he actually thinks Neal will take his offer of making him 14 again, erasing his memory, and getting to live his life out with his father. What the Fuck?! Has this literally been his plan the whole time? Neal just found out he’s a father, does Gold really think he’ll abandon him to become a teenager again? Gold just wants Neal to give him a chance. He even shows him how he’s changed by coming to the Land Without Magic, but Neal calls him out by saying how he’s still trying to use magic to make up for everything. Neal tells him he’s letting him go like he let him go all those years ago. Gold tells Neal he’s sorry, but Neal doesn’t care. He walks away to go talk to Henry. We end with Gold remembering the prophecy about the boy and probably wondering what he’s going to do since ‘the boy’ has turned out to be his grandson.

Neal: Oh, god, where do I even start with Neal. His treatment of Emma is still abysmal. I’m glad he tells Gold off, because he totally deserves it, but the way he deals with Emma is just horrible. We first see him running when Emma tries to get into his apartment, so we already know he’s still shady, if someone ringing his bell causes him to panic and run. Then, when he realizes it’s Emma chasing him he actually seems happy to see her. Like what does he think is going to happen? Or is it just the fact that she’s alive and well? Then she starts questioning him and he’s confused until she mentions his father and Rumplestiltskin. Then he’s pissed that she brought his father to NYC and Emma is rightly more pissed when she tells him he doesn’t get to be angry. Emma starts peppering him with questions but he wants to get off the street (again, telling me that he’s into something shady if he doesn’t want to be seen on the street), and tells her to follow him to a bar. Emma doesn’t want to go, but then he jokes that she can continue yelling at him there. I’m glad to see his sense of humor is still in tact during this whole thing. Emma reluctantly follows. At the bar Neal tells Emma she can ask him whatever she wants (and they’ve apparently already been there long enough for Neal to order and receive a beer). Neal tells her he didn’t know who she was and August told him later. He wouldn’t have gone near her if he’d known who she was (wow, just wow!). Emma is very close to tears now, telling Neal she loved him. Neal claims he was just trying to help her by getting her home. Was there seriously no other way he could have done this? I’m sure if he’d just told her about the curse she would’ve thought he was crazy and just left him all on her own. No jail time required. Emma is still nonplussed that them meeting was a coincidence. Neal says him and Emma meeting could have messed things up with getting her to break the curse. Neal chalks it up to fate and destiny. He thinks maybe they met for a reason and something good came out of their relationship (yep, Henry, the reason Emma broke the curse). Notice that Neal never asks Emma how she got to Storybrooke or how she broke the curse. It’s still all about him and his feelings. Emma says she just ended up in jail, and she’s over it and him. Neal smiles when he sees she’s still wearing the swan keychain and calls her out on it. She tears it off and claims it was to remind her not to trust anyone ever again. Emma tries to bring him back to Gold, and Neal is upset she made a deal with him, but he’s not going back and there’s nothing she can do about it. But he does end up back at his apartment, trying to save Emma from his father. And while they’re arguing, Neal and Emma get a little too familiar with each other and then Henry comes out, calling Emma mom and Neal realizes that Henry is his son. And I get that he’s upset that he didn’t know about him and that Emma wasn’t going to tell him about Henry, but he left her and framed her and put her in jail. Emma doesn’t owe him anything! Neal wants to go talk to Emma and Henry, but Gold wants to talk to him first, which Neal doesn’t want to do until Gold tells him that’s part of the deal with Emma. So they talk, and Gold talks crazy, and nothing Gold says makes him want to forgive his father. Neal tells him that all Gold has thought about is what he, himself went through to find him, but never once has he thought about what he, his son, has been through all these years. I may not like Neal, but finally, someone is calling out Gold for his selfishness. Thank you! Neal tells him how he sees that image of his father letting go of his hand every night and how he chose magic (with a little nod to Rumplestiltskin’s gesturing) over him. Neal is done with him and tells him to get out. Here’s the thing though, I see no emotion in Neal’s face or voice. It’s like he’s talking to a wall and not his father, and I don’t know if that’s an acting choice or that the actor just couldn’t get the emotional range needed. Either way, I get more emotional over Gold’s reactions, even though he deserves it, than I do over Neal’s. Emma comes back in to tell Neal that Henry wants to meet him. Neal accuses Emma of not telling him about Henry (at this moment), and she says she wasn’t planning on telling him. Neal says Henry is his kid too so he gets some say now (no, he really doesn’t get any say, I doubt he’s even on the original birth certificate and Emma has no legal right to him at the moment), and Emma snipes at him. Neal takes a deep breath and Emma asks him not to break his heart. He claims he won’t do what his father did, and Emma reminds him that he broke her heart. Neal doesn’t even look guilty about this, he’s almost insulted that she brings it up again. He says they’re all messed up and to not let Henry get messed up too (too late). Neal apologizes to Henry for not being there before, but Henry says it’s okay because he didn’t know about him (and Neal doesn’t look guilty here either, because he should).

Emma: She is not having a good day. I mean, who would be having a good day when the person she was betrayed the most by happens to also be the son Gold wants her to find for him. So Emma discovers Neal is Gold’s son and rightly freaks out because now she thinks her whole life has been a lie. She rightly questions Neal about whether he knew who she was when they met, but Neal’s freaking out over his father having finally found him. He yells at Emma for bringing Rumplestiltskin to him, but Emma’s not having it. And I get that Neal is very pissed off at his father, but Emma has way more right to be pissed right now because her whole life has just gone off kilter. She’s already had to deal with the fact that her parents are fairy tale characters and she had to break a curse and she’s the savior, but now the guy who broke her has turned up again and happens to be connected to all the fairy tale characters that she’s just getting used to. It’s a lot to take in. So they ‘talk’. Emma is trying so hard during this conversation to not cry. You can see it in her face and hear it in her voice. She will not let her emotions take over. Emma thinks everything was a set up between them and that Neal just used her to take the fall for the watches. Neal claims if he’d known who she was when they met he never would’ve gone near her. Wow, that’s harsh. Emma’s even more pissed that he essentially ran off because August told him to. Emma is incredulous that they could’ve met if he or Gold didn’t orchestrate it, but Neal thinks it was fate, because them meeting could’ve stopped her from going to Storybrooke and breaking the curse. I’m sure Emma is thinking about how them being together is exactly how she got to Storybrooke to break the curse. Neal thinks they must have met for a reason and that something good came out of their relationship, but Emma is not going to bring Henry into this, so she lies and tells him the only thing that happened was she went to jail. She also pulls off the swan keychain she wore because she’s had her closure with Neal and doesn’t need it anymore. She’s still insistent on bringing Neal back to Gold. Neal tells her she doesn’t have to uphold her end and Emma says she knows. She’s actually looking forward to that confrontation, I can tell. But Neal won’t go and tells Emma to tell his father she lost him in the chase. If she does that, she’ll never see him again. Emma’s down with the never seeing Neal again. On the way back to Gold and Henry, Emma calls Mary Margaret because she doesn’t know what to do. She’s looking for validation to not tell Henry about his father, but Mary Margaret makes her see that Emma is not protecting Henry but protecting herself. Emma goes back to Gold and he decides to break into Neal’s apartment to wait for his son. Emma notices a dreamcatcher on the window and thinks back to when they almost took the one from the hotel room. Gold notices that she’s getting nostalgic and thinks she’s keeping something from him about his son. Emma sends Henry into the other room when Gold starts yelling and threatening her, and it looks like things are going to get violent when Neal shows up. He says he came back to protect Emma. Gold and Neal argue and Emma tries to get Neal to calm down, but accidentally calls him Neal and Gold realizes they know each other. And then all hell breaks loose when Henry enters. Emma tries to get him back in the other room, and, of course, this is one of the few times Henry decides to call Emma, mom, and then she tries to not let Henry answer when Neal asks for his age, but all is for naught because Neal figures out that Henry is his son. Emma doesn’t deny it this time, and you can see the anguish in her face when she makes the decision to let Neal know Henry is her son. Henry is mad because Emma lied to him. She says she’d hoped to never see him again, that he wasn’t a good guy, and that he broke her heart. She does not mention the fact that he framed her and put her in jail. She says she was thinking of herself and not Henry. Henry accuses her of being like Regina. Whoa! Emma is nothing like Regina. Protecting Henry from the asshole who ruined her life is one thing, manipulating and making you think you’re crazy is something else entirely. Emma doesn’t even try to defend herself, she just apologizes to Henry and then goes to get Neal when Henry says he wants to meet him. Neal gets mad because Emma wasn’t going to mention him and Emma doesn’t deny it. Seriously, why would she tell Neal about Henry? He framed her and got her put in jail! Then he gets all high and mighty about how she can’t make all the decisions because Henry’s his kid too. Emma’s done and just tells him to go talk to Henry. Emma tells him not to break his heart like he did with her. Neal doesn’t like that she called him out on that, again, but says they shouldn’t try to mess up their kid like they’re messed up. Too late. Emma watches forlornly out the window as Henry and Neal talk. I just feel so horrible for Emma at this moment. She’s finally got her family and then Neal comes out of the woodwork to mess it all up. Because we all know he’s going to mess it all up.

Regina/Cora/Hook: Meanwhile, back in Storybrooke, these three idiots are trying to find Gold’s dagger. Cora is playing the ever doting mother to Regina (and has gotten a new Storybrooke makeover in the process, and she looks so much better in modern clothing and her hair down). Regina is upset because Emma took Henry out of Storybrooke without telling her. Cora placates her by telling her Henry will be back soon, but Regina says he still won’t be with her. Hook comes in and hears that Gold is out of Storybrooke. Regina doesn’t know where he is, but Hook immediately goes into planning mode that if he’s out of Storybrooke he’s powerless and can be killed. You can just see his mind working. It’s glorious! Cora and Regina remind him that they would lose their magic too, but Hook doesn’t have magic so it’s of no consequence to him. Regina berates him about just going up and stabbing him. Hook would rather use his hook, but he hasn’t been able to find it since leaving the hospital. Cora would rather Hook stay and help them look for the Dark One dagger which can kill him in Storybrooke. Regina goes to visit Belle in the hospital to see if she has any info, but with the amnesia she’s no help, so Regina puts her to sleep. And then, instead of rifling through Belle’s purse like a normal person, she levitates everything inside until she finds a library book number written on a notecard. Regina, Cora, and Hook go looking in the library. Cora is impressed how Regina deduced where the dagger, or something that could lead them to the dagger, might be. They don’t find the book, but there is a crudely drawn map. How lucky for them that they have a pirate who can decipher maps with them. Except, when he does decipher it, Cora decides that he can’t help them anymore and knocks him out. Regina asks Cora if this is why she’s really here, to get the dagger and become the Dark One. Cora says that if they control Gold then they can make him kill the Charmings and Emma and then Henry will be all Regina’s and no one can blame them. Regina smiles at this and finds this an acceptable plan. Just, ugh! Regina is so much smarter than this. I guess without anyone in her corner (Henry, Sr.) she really just blindly follows whomever shows her the slightest hint of love, and totally bypasses all the warning signals that they are using her for their own gain. I wish I didn’t feel sorry for Regina, but she was trying to change in the first half of the season, so I really want to believe that would have continued if not for Cora. As for Hook, what does the dagger matter if you go with your original plan to kill Gold where he has no power? Get away from Cora and do what you need. I can live with just seeing Rumplestiltskin in flashbacks.

Milah: We get to see her actually in love with her husband. She’s worried for Rumplestiltskin when he gets drafted to go to war. He’s adamant that this will help him not be known as the son of a coward anymore and Milah tells him that he can’t always live in his father’s shadow. She has so much faith in him, it’s scary. She tells him to go and fight honorably and when he gets back they can start their family. Little does she know she’s already pregnant. When Rumplestiltskin arrives home, Milah’s already had the baby (he’s probably 2-3 months old) and she’s disgusted by what her husband did to get out of fighting. Rumplestiltskin insists that he did it to ensure he got home to his family, but she’d rather him died and be known as a hero than him injuring himself like a coward. For someone who was so much in love with her husband before he left, she turns on him pretty quickly. Now we see the Milah we were introduced to in The Crocodile. She’s not a happy camper that she’s now saddled to town coward, because that is what he’s now become in her’s and the town’s eyes.

Questions:

How many Ogres Wars have there been? We see one in this episode, there was another that Bae was supposed to fight in during Desperate Souls (could possibly be the same war), Belle’s kingdom made a deal with Rumplestiltskin in Skin Deep to help stop the war. That could also be the same war that Snow dealt with as she mentions to Charming that the Ogres were back in The Outsider. Has there always been an Ogres War happening or do they just happen every generation?

We’re all pretty clear that Cora has come back for the Dark One dagger and not Regina, right?

I thought the favor that Emma was doing for Gold was helping him find his son in NYC? Now it’s getting his son to talk to him as well?

In Broken Neal entered the apartment wearing a suit and carrying a briefcase. What kind of trouble is he in that he still has a briefcase type job?

Why did Neal consider himself in hiding from his father? As far as he knew it was the last bean left. Why did he think his father would come after him? 

All August had to show Neal was a paper with “I know you’re Baelfire” written on it? That’s what made him frame Emma and send her to jail?

How did August find out Neal was Baelfire in the first place? It’s not like he can do internet research and find a connection between the two? How did he know about Baelfire in the first place?

Why is Rumplestiltskin the only soldier not wearing a chainmail hood? I’m assuming it’s so we recognize him, but it just looks odd that he’s the only one not wearing one.

Would Emma have told Henry about Neal if he hadn’t shown up at the apartment?

I get that Cora and Hook wouldn’t know how to look up books in a library, but should Regina have that knowledge ingrained in her head from the curse?

Why would the duke send saddles made of the finest leather to the battlefield where most people are ending up injured or dead and the horses most likely to run off with the saddles still on them?

Why does Gold think there’s something up with Emma and the dreamcatcher? They literally just used one to look at Pongo’s memories like a week ago.

Was Neal waiting for the right moment to come into his apartment? It seems pretty convenient that he came in right when Gold was threatening Emma.

How does one try to abandon their child? It seems pretty clear that Rumplestiltskin’s father did abandon him as he was raised by spinsters.

Did Gold remember the undoing prophecy when Emma said they were bringing Henry with them to find his son? Did he think he was going to kill Henry before they set out on their trip?

What does ‘his undoing’ mean? Is Henry going to bring about Gold’s death? Will he release him from being the Dark One?

Observations:

Milah’s dress is the same color blue as the dress Rumplestiltskin later dresses Belle in when she’s his maid.

Hook still seems to be in pretty bad shape (considering it’s still a day or two after the accident), but Greg is walking around as if he didn’t just have chest surgery and has been discharged from the hospital.

Neal lives in apartment 407.

I know when I’m stuck in a hospital, I must make sure to have my false lashes on and mascaraed, like Belle.

When Belle asks Regina if they were friends Regina responds that they spent some time together. Yeah, she had you locked away for about 30 years total between the Enchanted Forest and Storybrooke.

Gold knows how to pick a lock.

David’s lines about how Gold can’t be Henry’s grandfather because he is and how Thanksgiving would suck are hilarious.

Greg decides to stay in Storybrooke and has managed to record Regina doing magic.

Cora calls the dagger the Kris Dagger.

We already knew that the Blue Fairy had inadvertently given Rumplestiltskin the idea for a curse in The Return, but now we know where he got the idea for moving everyone in the land with it.

Timeline:

Ok, so I don’t think this has been established in the show quite yet, but when Rumplestiltskin and Bae’s timeline is in the show has now come into question. In Tallahassee I guesstimated Neal’s age at around 23. But this is impossible if he and Rumple come from the same timeline as Snow and Charming and everyone else. If Bae went through the portal to the Land Without Magic and immediately went on living his life, he’d be much older than 23 when he met Emma.  Rumple was putting the events of Snow and Charming getting together and Regina casting the curse for years, which would mean Neal would have had to have been in his 30’s or 40’s (or even older) by the time he met Emma in Portland if he’d come directly from the portal. But I’m thinking he didn’t. He would have had to have gone somewhere else first where he either didn’t age or aged slower. He also says to Gold that he has seen him letting him go in the portal for more years than he can know. Hmm, any thoughts on where that might have been?

Great episode! Emma finally got to confront Neal about what he did, but she’s also discovered that he’s Gold’s son, which means he’s from the Enchanted Forest as well. Which means what exactly? I don’t know. Will Neal come back to Storybrooke now that he knows about Henry? Will they try some sort of custody agreement? How will Regina react to all this. I’m sure she’ll be thrilled that Gold somehow procured her his own grandson to raise. I just hope that Emma doesn’t go back to Neal now that’s he’s going to be some kind of fixture in her life, because he is bad news. Don’t go for the guy who put you in jail Emma, no matter how he spins it.

Please leave comments and reblog! Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future reviews.

@searchingwardrobes​​​​ @thisonesatellite​​​​ @justbecauseyoubelievesomething​​​​ @laschatzi​​​​ @profdanglaisstuff​​​​ @mariakov81​

[broadwaycantdie]

Eid! - Newsies (Pride) Month . Day 4

( tommy boy ) + ( religion )

a/n: i am not muslim! i do not celebrate eid! however, inclusivity and diversity is very important to show throughout stories so i had @newnewsieprice help me with this story because she is muslim and does celebrate eid! she also told me that everyone celebrates differently so this is just based off her experiences and the bare minimum i know :)

warning: besides the fact that i only partially know what i’m talking about ? none

background: Tommy Boy is a Macedonian Muslim Baby Boy™. He is technically the only Muslim newsie in his chosen family. Tommy Boy’s blood family was deported and sent back to Macedonia. Since he was the only family member born in the states, he was left alone. A lot of families were separated during the ICE raids—including some of the other newsie’s—so they all work to bring everyone together in their own little family.

( all macedonian is according to google translate and the translation will be in parentheses, sorry if anything is wrong, i don’t speak macedonian! )

——————————————————————————

“Те сакам исто така, мама. Ми недостигаш. Тоа нема да биде исто без сите вас овде. Ветувам дека ќе се јавам повторно по молитвата. Eid Mubarak.”

(I love you too, mama. I miss you. It won’t be the same without you all here. I promise to call again after prayer. Eid Mubarak.)

Tommy Boy hung up the phone and gently pressed his forehead on the wall, looking down with his eyes closed. He let out a breath.

“It’s hard without them here, isn’t it?”

Tommy Boy jumped, not knowing someone else was in the room. It was very early morning, he didn’t expect anyone to be awake.

He didn’t say anything. He just turned to see who was there.

It was Elmer. He was standing in the open doorway with a sense of understanding on his face. A change of pace from his often confused expression.

Tommy Boy walked over to him, wrapping him in a hug without saying a word.

Elmer knew what it was like. His parents and older siblings were taken back to Poland over a year ago.

He sticks to the newsies because they’re all he has.

Elmer’s family obviously wasn’t the only one who got taken away but his was the first. He has had time to heal, though it still hurts.

Tommy Boy’s parents were taken just weeks ago. He needs more time to accept and learn to move forward. And no one knows that feeling better than Elmer. He went from a blood family of 11 to 1. It was hard.

Elmer knew what a sacred and joyous time this has always been to him, year after year. He use to go to his parents and come back telling stories of all the gossip and events happening back in Macedonia. Stories of his parents saying how they wish they could visit their home again; but they never imagined they would get stuck there, leaving their only son behind.

Elmer was prepared to hold Tommy Boy for as long as he needed. He knew Tommy Boy wasn’t one for showing emotions, so he needed to undertand that he could be vulnerable and that was okay.

Tommy Boy pulled away gently. Tears soaked his face and his eyes were red. He hadn’t cried like that since his parents left. He never allowed himself.

He looked at Elmer’s shirt, now housing a wet spot from his eyes.

“Sorry about that”, Tommy Boy said, lightly laughing through tears and choked breaths.

“It’s okay, T. It’ll dry”, Elmer replied, smiling.

They stood there for a bit. Elmer gently rubbed Tommy Boy’s back while he let out the last of his tears and caught his breath. He just needed to get it out.

“What are you gonna do this year?” Elmer asked softly.

“I don’t know. I’m gonna pray. Pray a lot. I might go for a walk. Be by myself for a few hours. But after that I don’t know”, Tommy Boy replied in a deep breath.

“Why don’t you go get ready. Take some time to yourself beforehand. We’ll all be here with you after, okay?”

Tommy Boy nodded his head and went off to the washroom. No one else was awake so he really got to relax and calm down before he went off to the mosque.

In that time, Elmer devised a plan. He was going to do everything he could to give Tommy Boy a good Eid. Nothing would make him feel as good as he did with his parents, but he owed it to him to try.

As soon as Tommy Boy walked out the door Elmer yelled throughout the lodging house.

“Family meeting right now! Everyone come here, please!”

At least he was polite about his early morning aggressive screaming.

Ignoring the moans and groans of sleepy teenagers, Elmer actually got everyone into the main room.

He explained his plan, what he knew of the holiday, and Tommy Boy’s schedule for the day.

“Henry, how long does it take to make an entire feast fit for a celebration?”

“Um? Like all day if I’m lucky?”

“Well we’ve got about 5 hours or so, so you might wanna start now.”

“What?! Elmer that’s impossible!”

“Nothing’s impossible if you put your heart to it...and when you have friends to help...that’s why I made a chart of everyone’s responsibilities for the day.”

More groans filled the room but Elmer ignored them.

He went down the list, giving everyone their job.

Henry, Kenny, Smalls, Crutchie, Buttons, Romeo, Sniper, Specs, Jojo, Kid Blink, and Ike would all be working on food. Like Henry said, it would take all day if he did it himself so Elmer needed as many people as possible to get it all done.

However, not everyone could be trusted cooking.

Albert, Finch, Jack, Mike, Mush, and Race were in charge of getting the house ready.

That included cleaning, setting the table, getting conversation spaces ready, helping Henry if he needed anything and every other little thing Elmer needed.

Specifically, Finch was put on lookout, making sure Tommy Boy wasn’t on his way home. And if he was, the rest of the house would be warned and a distraction would be made.

While the rest of the family worked, Tommy Boy was enjoying his time. He never was one to like a lot of energy and chaos.

While at the mosque he prayed for his family. He prayed they were safe and happy even if he couldn’t be there with him. He prayed for the other first-generations to not have to go through what he did. He prayed that Race would be smart enough to not get in big enough trouble that would get him sent back to Italy. He prayed that one day he would be reunited with his family for good. He prayed he would at least be able to afford to visit until that day came. He prayed for a lot of things. That’s all he could think to do. So he did.

After he left the mosque, he took a walk. He walked around the city watching people live their lives. People not even knowing it was a holiday. People just enjoying their time together. It was nice to see.

Back at the lodging house, they ran into a bit of a problem. No one knew how to make baklava.

“Do we really need it?” Henry asked, already in the midst of making a million other things.

“Yes! It’s a staple of literally any holiday ever!” Elmer said back.

“Well you better bring someone who knows how to make it cause it ain’t me.”

Elmer thought for a minute then picked up the phone and dialed a familiar number.

“Hello?”

“Davey! It’s Elmer, we have an emergency.”

“What kind? The kind where I have to sew someone’s arm back on or the kind where you guys are out of m&m’s?”

“The kind where we don’t know how to make baklava and we were hoping you did.”

“I don’t, but my mother does. Why?”

“We need some, like today.”

“Today?! Elmer baklava takes at least two days to make!”

“Fuck. Uh. Do you know where we can get some?”

“Well, lucky for you it’s the beginning of the month.”

“Meaning...?”

“Meaning my mom makes baklava the first weekend of every month!”

“Can you bring it? Please? Like asap!”

“Yeah, I’ll be over soon.”

Since that was taken care of, Elmer got back to getting all the last details finished.

Meanwhile, Tommy Boy decided to participate in one of his favorite parts of Eid, giving to the poor.

He knows what it’s like to not have anything, so giving back to those with even less warms his heart. He remembers being on the other end and watching some of his newsie brothers there too. It’s been tough, but giving back is his way of seeing that he made it through.

He gave what he could in any form. Buying meals, volunteering, or just giving straight up money.

After another hour or so of him being out, Tommy Boy decided it was time to head home. He promised his mother he’d call again and he didn’t want it to get too late.

Davey made it to the lodging house just minutes before Tommy Boy did, finishing the table setting.

The boys somehow got everything done in time.

The table was set with all the food they could make. Foods like Tajine, Tufahije, Bolani, Pite, Spice Cookies, and—of course—Baklava. Along with other little things like dates and tiny snacks.

Finch yelled out that Tommy Boy was walking up. They all scrambled around and stood in front of the table, hiding what was behind it.

Tommy Boy walked in the same way he always does, but this time, noticed the odd behavior of the boys.

“Hey guys?” Tommy Boy confusingly asked.

“Hey, T! How was going to the mosque?” Elmer asked, genuinely curious.

“It was good! Uh...what is everyone doing?”

“Well...this is your first Eid without your usual traditions and celebrations. So...”

The boys slowly moved away from the table, revealing the food.

“...we wanted to make a new one!”

Tommy Boy’s jaw dropped.

“You—how did you? You—you did this? All of this? F-for me?”

“Of course! T, we are family, and after seeing you this morning I couldn’t have you just being alone. I can’t change what happened, but I can do everything in my power to make what you have here, the best.”

He felt the tears fill up his eyes again but quickly wiped them away.

Tommy Boy isn’t much of a talker, but that reaction said more than words ever could.

They all sat down in their respective seats and began eating the food. They all talked and gossiped and enjoyed each other’s company.

After they ate more food than probably healthy, they moved over to the couches while Henry brought out tea and cups.

Tommy Boy used this time to leave the room and call his mother back, as he promised he would.

He waited a bit longer than he should have, so his mother didn’t pick up. However, he did leave her a message.

“Здраво, мама. Се извинувам што не се јавив порано, толку многу се случи денес. Моите пријатели го донесоа Еид и ја направија речиси иста како она што го користиме за да го направиме, иако со својот мал пресврт сепак. Тие ја направија мојата омилена храна и навистина ме натераа да се чувствувам добредојдена. Не знам што направив за да ги заслужам сите, навистина. Тоа беше целата идеја на Елмер, ми рече дека тоа е групен напор, но знам дека го планирал. Неговото семејство беше однесено пред една година, па ми помагаше. Многу ми недостасуваш. Се надевам дека си имал добар Еид. Еден ден повторно ќе го прославиме заедно. Се надевам наскоро. Океј, те сакам, мама. Кажете им на сите што ги сакам. Повикај ме кога ќе можеш. Eid Mubarak.”

(Hello, mama. I apologize for not calling earlier, so much happened today. My friends brought Eid to me and made it almost the exact same as what we use to do, with their own little twist though. They made my favorite foods and really made me feel welcome. I don’t know what I did to deserve them all, really. It was all Elmer’s idea, he told me it was a group effort, but I know he planned it. His family was taken a year ago, so he’s been helping me out. I miss you all a lot. I hope you had a good Eid. One day we’ll celebrate it together again. Hopefully soon. Okay, I love you, mama. Tell everyone I love them. Call me when you can. Eid Mubarak.)

[mtvswatches]

Wynonna Earp 1x03 Leavin’ On Your Mind

Spoilers disclaimer (please read before sending messages or writing comments.)

Stray thoughts

1) I already ship this… Is this a thing? Please, don’t tell me!

I can’t really tell if Wynonna is truly being flirtatious or if this is her way of figuring him out because she doesn’t trust him. I mean, you can be attracted to someone who you don’t trust, so there’s that.

2) Oh, wow, don’t you just hate it when you’re fumbling with your bag and a bloody chopped off hand falls and everyone sees it? #awkward

So what do these guys need Dixon’s diary for? And why are they carrying a chopped hand around as if it was a freaking tampon?

3) So… revenants just have a thirst for murder? I haven’t seen them feeding off anyone, but they do seem to get off on killing people right?

4) Sounds like Giles…

5) Ha!

6) Oh shit indeed!

7)

DOC: “Bravery” is just a fancy word for “stupid”.

I predict I’ll see him do tons of stupid things, then.

8) Yep, Doc is definitely giving me Spike vibes…

9) The guy’s hand is being chopped off and all Wynonna can think is that he’s going to miss his bus!!

10) Okay, so these revenants need three things – the voice of a mute, the hand of an innocent murderer, and something else paradoxical – to perform a spell that will let them out of the limits of the Ghost River Triangle. Cool, cool, cool.

11) Waverly is quite clever, actually. She has figured out “Henry’s” fib, but instead of calling him out on it, she’s playing along to see what else she can get out of him. Like, why is he pretending to be someone he isn’t?

12) Hmmmmmmmmmmmmm, how convenient… Wynonna decides to visit her dad’s and sister’s graves at the same time the revenant is trying to find something for the spell…

13) “Look at that body. I call dibs!” I’m guessing he’s not talking about fucking him, right? So, he’s either going to kill him or eat him. Or… Can revenants switch bodies?

14)

DOLLS: Give this to whoever's in charge. And…

WYNONNA: Never get into a vehicle, never move to a second location.

DOLLS: You've been in a hostage situation before?

WYNONNA: Sort of…

What does this mean? And why is she smirking? Was she a hostage or did she hold someone hostage? I need to know!

15) Dolls keeps giving me Giles vibes, but then again, Giles would never do this with Buffy…

16) I’m guessing Waverly is going to get super pissed at Wynonna putting herself in danger without even considering how this could affect her sister… (edit: Never mind, she didn’t get pissed because of this, she just wanted in on the action.)

17) They’re not releasing all the hostages because they need three of them… Three humans? For the spell, right?

18) Oh… so this is why Bobo is the Big Boss…

DOC: See, unlike your type, I can roam far and wide. Although from what I hear around your little enclave, some of your cronies, oh, they're itching to wander too.

BOBO: Well, they can try, but the only way out of the Triangle is with me.

19) So, this “Stone Witch” is the woman Doc was trying to find on the newspapers? And knowing her name gives you some sort of power? Is that why Bobo can walk out of the boundaries? Was she the one who put the spell that set the boundaries in the first place? So many questions! 

20) So the Stone Witch chose these three backward revenants to perform the spell… They said they needed three of them… are they going to switch bodies with humans so that they can walk outside the boundaries of Ghost River Triangle? Could that be?

21) What kind of life has Wynonna been living, though? How does she know how to open a fucking safe?

22) Waverly has figured it out, right?

Is this the name of the Stone Witch? And why is she called the Stone Witch?

23) Doc is acting all tough and trying to humiliate and scare Waverly, but I bet her words will resonate with him…

WAVERLY: I know what you're supposed to be. You're supposed to be a hero. You're supposed to be Wyatt Earp's best friend! You're supposed to be here to help us! 

I don’t want my instincts to be wrong about him. I really hope he turns out to be one of those morally ambiguous characters who eventually choose to fight the good fight.

24) So a loveless heart was the third item… Rather poetic…

25) Okay, so they needed the three hostages to use them as shields, forget all my previous speculation.

26)

REVENANT: You know Marty here's been put down three times?

WYNONNA: Third-generation revenant?

REVENANT: Three times down south, you'd go a little psychotic too.

I really like this tidbit of mythology, how the revenants get more evil with each reincarnation. It makes sense, too. Spending that much time in Hell, and then being back… I would also be hella pissed at those who sent me down there. I also wonder if we will meet revenants who’ve been put down more than three times. How evil can you get, you know?

27) Okay, so they’re only doing the spell for the Stone Witch so that she will let them out of the boundaries. I guess I suck at predicting storylines, good.

28) Well, I didn’t mention this before but I swear on my dog that I did know Wynonna would be carrying a GPS device or a microphone or something…

29) DAMN IT I WAS RIGHT!!!

REVENANT: The old man's not gonna make it. Cowboy's the only good one left.

WYNONNA: That's why you need Champ's body? For some sort of, like, possession?

CHAMP: What? In my body?! Wynonna, I don't even put gluten in this!

WYNONNA: Then you can walk across the line in human form.

(BTW, I loved Champ’s gluten line)

30) I DIED!

31) I’m sorry, Shorty, but it totally made sense for him to be the one to suck in the revenant’s “soul” or whatever. He was about to die, after all.

32) “Give me straight-up death instead of being sent to hell and back over and over.” This totally makes sense. I wonder if there are revenants who actually feel like this, who would prefer to be put down forever – even if forever means forever in hell – rather than being brought back every few years or so only to be sent back to hell again, rinse and repeat. I mean, being teased with life on earth – even if you’re an evil demon – only to have it taken away from you time and again…? It somehow seems more hellish than hell itself…

33) Dolls tried to shoot Sam but the gun didn’t work. Does that mean that Wynonna is literally the only person who can shoot it? And what made him think he could use it? 

34) I guess we’re not meeting the Stone Witch today…

35) Ouch, my feels…

36) When will Waverly dump Champ, though? It doesn’t make sense for her to be with this douche?

37) Hmmm, Dolls is sounding more and more like Giles… (and Wynonna is sounding a lot like Buffy, btw…)

WYNONNA: The hell took you so long?

DOLLS: I was always there. But I just needed to see if they could actually do it.

WYNONNA: Even if it meant Shorty had to die?

DOLLS: Collateral damage. This is a war. You want to avenge your sister and your dad, right? And this is what victories… might have to look like.

WYNONNA: And what about our failures?

Hmm, this also raises another question. Not only was he waiting to see if the revenants could pull off the spell, but he also tried to shoot Wynonna’s gun. Given his pragmatical mentality, I’m guessing he was testing out if Wynonna was actually dispensable. If he could use the gun himself, then Wynonna was expendable. If something were to happen to her, then he could carry on without a hiccup. I wonder if these different views will make them collide.

38) I’ve got to say, I’d be disappointed if this hadn’t been her response…

With all the shit I've done in my life Dolls, working with you I don't think I can look in the mirror.

This is the hero mentality, heroes need to believe wars can be won without “collateral damage”, they need to believe they can save everyone, that is what drives them. But I’m sure that this won’t be the last time this mentality is tested, and I’m guessing Wynonna will need to make other sacrifices or be forced to walk a grey moral line...

39) Ugh, fucking Doc…

DOC: The fact is, I have not properly introduced myself. You can tell your sister she is right. I am… was friends with your great-great-grandpappy. My name is John Henry, but most people just called me Doc.

WYNONNA: "Doc"? Doc Holliday?

DOC: Wynonna Earp, I am at your disposal.

WYNONNA: Well, shit.

He’s a conniving son of a bitch, isn’t he? He only came clean because Waverly had already figured out who he was, but he did it in a way that made it look like he beat Waverly to the punch (that’s why he tells Wynonna to tell her sister that “she was right.”) Besides, introducing himself as a friend of their great-great-grandfather automatically establishes a bond between them, even some trust. He is saying, “hey, you can trust me, I’m here to help you.”

However, he’s obviously doing Bobo’s bidding – this is exactly what Bobo asked him to do. I do have a feeling Doc is the type of character who would do what others tell him if it’s beneficial for him but who can also very quickly switch sides if it suits him better, you know? I think, for now, he’s playing it by ear to see what and who will benefit him more.

The thing is, for now, he’s playing Wynonna. So I feel I’ll have to hate him a little bit before he makes me love him.

Who am I kidding? I already love him, but you know what I mean, right?

40) This episode definitely felt more Monster-of-the-Week than the previous two, but I still felt enough things were introduced in order to build the season arc – the Stone Witch and Doc’s identity being revealed. Can’t wait to watch the next one!

41) Hope you enjoyed my recap, and, as usual, if you’ve got this far, thank you for reading! If you enjoy my recaps and my blog, please consider supporting it on ko-fi.Thanks!

[captain-sodapop]

Nihilism Coda: Marlboro Man

Summary: “How am I supposed to make sure it happens?  What do I do to make sure?” He asks.  “To make sure Michael doesn’t get his chance.” Billie’s mouth lifts in a one-sided sarcastic smile.  “Keep smokin’, Marlboro Man.  Keep smokin’.”

Rated: T

Potential TW for smoking and allusion to terminal illness and eventual death.  But it’s got a bittersweet ending.

Cross-posted at AO3.  Under the cut because this thing is a monster.  How I wrote this in one night will forever remain a mystery.  Happy reading!

Dean started smoking at a fairly young age.

It wasn’t as if Dad cared – he’d been in Vietnam, knew the familiar itch for nicotine, that need to just sit and smoke after a long day, or early in the morning, or in the car, or, or, or…or lots of places.  He’d idly mentioned to Dean once that it really wasn’t good for him, that of course he smoked, everyone smoked back in his day, servicemen especially.  Dean then quipped that he wasn’t so far off from those guys’ situation – he just wasn’t shootin’ Gooks, is all.  And then his Dad smiled and bummed a smoke off him, and they sat quietly together on the hood of the Impala after one of their trickier hunts, made trickier by Sammy’s absence.

Yep, that had been Dean. He compensated for his pretty-boy face with cigarettes and tattoos and weird jewelry and an underachiever and proud of it! attitude that he had pretty much immediately adopted from Bart Simpson back in 1989 with the rest of the guys his age.  Hell, that was still Dean, just watered down now that he was creeping up on forty in a matter of days and had been subdued by life, the universe, and everything.

Sam used to really get on his ass about the cigarettes.  The kid had been indoctrinated by the DARE program and took it upon himself to get Dean to quit.  He never fought Dad, he knew better, but he fought Dean.  Gave him statistics about secondhand smoke and guilt-tripped him about how all the kids could smell the nicotine and ash on him and instantly get a read of TRAILER TRASH.  He told him about all the cancers, of the lungs and the throat and the jaw.  He had pictures and pamphlets and everything.  Sam was still saying Just Say No! even when Bill Clinton was in office.  Dean would quit for a few days at a time, but it just proved to be too much for him, and the nicotine gums and patches never helped in the way he thought they were supposed to, and then he’d just start back up again.  In the end, it wasn’t Sam that got him to quit – no, that didn’t happen until after he had left for Stanford.  What got to Dean was a raging head cold that morphed into a raging chest cold that morphed then into pneumonia and landed him in the hospital.

“Jesus!” Dad had squawked when they showed him the X-rays of his son’s lungs.  “I’m no professional, but I’m pretty sure lungs ain’t s’posed to look like that.”

Dean’s doctor didn’t even try to hide his eyeroll.  “Yes, well, I spoke to your son and I’ve made it clear to him that his nicotine habit certainly didn’t help his cause, and I don’t care how healthy the rest of him is – if he keeps it up, he’ll have the lungs of a ninety-year-old undertaker with seventy years’ experience.  And asthma.”

So Dad yelled at him when they got home about how he needed him on the job, and how no one with gross-looking lungs like his would ever last, and that this just needed to stop right the fuck now, hear me?  Dean nodded, not all that upset because he was sick and would do whatever it took to never feel this crummy ever again.  So he quit.  Cold turkey. It was pretty rough at first, like they say, but over time he just kept telling himself that he needed to stay sharp for the job, stay sharp for his old man, needed to be around because if he wasn’t on this Earth to do this job, who would be?  So he quit.

Well, mostly.

What’s funny is that Dean sort of was an undertaker anyways. He’d burned enough bones and monster corpses and possessed objects that it wasn’t as if he was avoiding getting shit in his lungs anyways.  And every now and then, even after he quit and Sam was back with him and Dad had died and he’d sold his soul and come back from Hell rehymenated with fancy new lungs, he still needed to step outside and light up.  Just every now and then.  He’d come to be able to control those urges over the years.  He lived in a state of near-constant tension, so he saved the smokes for the really tough times, which he differentiated from the pretty tough times and the sorta tough times and the plain-old regular tough times, the nothing-special tough times.

He could stop whenever he wanted.

And he did.  The smoking, that is.  Just a few times a year, anymore.  Maybe a few more, give or take, depending on the times.

But burning the bodies? Yeah, that never stops.

xXx

Rocky’s Bar smelled like cigarettes.

Guess Dean’s was one of the last establishments that wasn’t non-smoking.

That little detail probably could (should) have tipped him off that this was all in his head.

xXx

“Do you remember visiting my reading room?  The shelves and shelves of notebooks describing the way you might die?”

“Yeah – upbeat classics.” Dean can’t help but be a smartass. Billie doesn’t quite intimidate him the way the old Death did.  Probably not a smart move.

Billie just stares at him. “Well.  It’s the funniest thing, but they’ve all been rewritten.”  Now her expression shows a bit more concern, though Dean’s smart enough to know that concern is not for him but for this entire universe – this universe of universes – that she is in charge of overseeing.  “With the archangel Michael escaping your mind and using you as his vessel to burn down this world.”

It’s a punch to the gut. “All of them.”  Not a question, really, so much as a statement.

“All of them.”  A beat of silence as Billie raises her hand, holding out one of those books from one of those shelves to Dean.  “Except one.”

Dean accepts it.  He has to.  He considers the book for a moment, wondering if how thin it is really means anything, or if maybe the print is just small.  Ya know, to save paper.  Billie’s staring at him, encouraging him silently to read on.  She wants to be here for this, see his reaction. Why else would she stay?  And so he flips to the end, making sure he doesn’t read a single word in that book except for the very last line on the very last page.

To say what he finds is upsetting is an understatement.

“What am I supposed to do with this?”

“That’s up to you.”

Dean has questions. He has so many questions, all of them blurring together in his head and making it impossible for him to decipher what exactly he wants to ask first, but when he looks up, Billie is gone.

xXx

He’s not even quite sure why he has questions.  The ending was pretty straight-forward, after all.  

xXx

Dean thinks of what normal people do when they learn these things.  About how they think of courses of action, what comes next, who to call, what’s on the bucket list.  He thinks of Jack, sick and dying and wanting to get a parking ticket.  A parking ticket.  A parking ticket!  What sort of ridiculous world did they live in?  What sort of absurd, Dickensian (yes, Sam!  Lookit yer big brother now!) planet was this where Jack, a stand-in for Tiny Tim if Dean ever saw one, had getting a parking ticket on his bucket list?

He remembered it was Christmas.  Or, it had been.  It was over now, just barely.  Dean wandered out from his bedroom into the rest of the bunker, found Jack in his Dean Cave watching White Christmas, the little pansy. Or – no, no.  Just…no.  

“Can I watch with you?” Dean asks instead, thinking of bucket lists and parking tickets and shelves and shelves of books with almost all the same ending.

Jack smiles up at him. “Sure!”

Dean sits in the other chair.  He doesn’t really pay attention to the movie, watches Jack more, watches him react. Dean’s maybe seen the movie only once, but he just doesn’t care.  At the moment, he doesn’t want to be alone, but he doesn’t want to be with Sam or Cas, who would press him with questions.  He prefers to be with Jack and his ever-waning innocence.

“Jack?  Promise me somethin.’”

Jack takes the time to pause the movie so he doesn’t miss a single minute, then he looks at Dean with those earnest eyes.  Dean mentally kicks himself for ever treating this poor kid like shit.  “Sure.  What is it?”

Dean lets out a small sigh. “Never smoke.”

Jack furrows his brow and looks at him like he just said the dumbest thing on the planet.  “Um.  Okay?” With that tone, and that confused smile, he even sounds like a regular teenager, and it’s so normal that Dean lets the attitude pass and tells him to turn the movie back on.

xXx

It was supposed to be a blaze of glory.

This was not that.

xXx

But it’s not like he’s just going to let Michael get away with this.  Dean let him in, let him stay, and so he either lets him bust out and take over one last time so he can go on destroying worlds (“I am become death, destroyer of worlds” or whatever).

Or Dean could do what he always does, be the stand-up guy and take one for the team and take that one path that doesn’t result in literally getting fucked over.

He knows without thinking that he’s going to let it happen.

He doesn’t know when. He didn’t read the when.  Remember?  He just read the last line on the last page, the line that said just how it was going to happen, not when.  Dean could live with that.  He could live with knowing what and not when.  What was one more surprise, anyways?  One more fresh twist to the knot?

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.  Yes…yes. That would be the way he would go.

xXx

But waiting for it is a bastard, he won’t deny that.

xXx

One night, as he’s hiding out in his room, Dean picks up Billie’s book and reads up to the point they’re at now in the timeline.  It starts, as it will end, very innocuously: Dean Henry Winchester was born to John and Mary Winchester on the twenty-fourth day of January, in the year of Our Lord one-thousand, nine-hundred, and seventy-nine in Lawrence, Kansas.  Dean had always wished to have Sam’s middle name, William – it was a lot stronger than Henry, even though it didn’t really matter because they never used them, and now they knew that poor Henry Winchester hadn’t been such a bad guy after all.  He just wishes their father could have known that.

It’s not a particularly entertaining or well-written read, especially considering he already knows all of it, though Dean suspects it’s not supposed to be – it’s for informational purposes.  For Billie’s purposes.  So she can Know.  It’s all very factual, how he had a heart attack that should have killed him but didn’t; how he sold his soul but still came back; how he helped avert the Apocalypse; how he had fathered an Amazon daughter that was now in Purgatory; how he himself had been to Purgatory; how he’d bore the Mark of Cain and been a Knight of Hell and released the Darkness and reunited her with her brother; all of that and the mundane stuff, too, about how he’s allergic to cats and has a birthmark on his ass the shape of Idaho and his cholesterol really isn’t that great, but that’s still not what’s gonna get him. He reads about how he’s now been possessed twice by the archangel Michael, and since this is the version that doesn’t end with him becoming repossessed for a third time, Dean is a little gratified to see there are still some pages after that part.

He doesn’t read ahead. He doesn’t want to spoil anything.

But he already knows the ending – even, again, if he doesn’t know the when – so he flips to it once more and reads it again.

xXx

After a lifetime of dodging the supernatural and fighting a war against Earth’s monsters, Dean Winchester will succumb to a prolonged and difficult battle with Adenocarcinoma, or lung cancer.

xXx

It’s poetry, really.

xXx

A prolonged and difficult battle.  But not with a monster or a ghost or an angel or a demon.

With fucking lung cancer.

xXx

The thing is, Dean knows already that he will do whatever it takes to get that outcome.  Hell, he’ll even take up smoking again and start going on even more salt-‘n’-burns to speed up the process, just so this stupid world can keep turning.  So Sam can…can get a dog and Cas can chase after the taste of his beloved PB&J and Jack can finally get that parking ticket.  He’ll do it because Mom has a thing for this other Bobby, and she deserves a shot at that. He’ll do it for Jody and Donna and the girls.  He’ll do it for every person they saved from that other world, the one Billie warned him about going to.  Dean maintains that it was worth it.  Because the alternative, the ninety-nine percent possibility?  He will do everything in his power to avoid it.

He hasn’t left his room much, like back in October and the first time.  Dean stares up at the ceiling at night, listening to the quiet around him while his voice yammers on inside his head.  That voice has all sorts of thoughts and questions, about what it’ll feel like and when it’s gonna start and what everyone’s reaction to it is going to be and if it’s worth telling anybody about yet.  This is quite the burden Billie has laid on his shoulders, but better this than all that death.  He was small potatoes.  The voice also wondered if treatment would be a smart idea because what if he beats it? Because then Michael would have time to take back over.  Maybe Dean would try it for a while, then claim it was just making him sicker and more miserable and that it just wasn’t worth it anymore.  

Things had been looking so good not so long ago.

But Dean…Dean could live with this.

He kept telling himself that, hoping it would eventually sink in.  It was starting to, but it was still all so surreal.  And lame.  Lung cancer? Fuckin’ lung cancer?  Lame as fuck.  At least it wasn’t going to be in his ass.  That would really be embarrassing.  Small mercies, he supposed.  

“Small mercies,” he whispered to the ceiling, a reassurance, then sighed.

xXx

“Ya know, I was thinking, if you wanted…you could get away for a little while.  Maybe you could go say hi to Mom and Bobby?  Spend a few days at Donna’s, just sorta…become one with nature or whatever.  Too cold to swim, obviously, but – “

“One with nature?” Dean repeated.  “That’s your beat.”

“I know,” Sam said testily, obviously already preparing for his brother to put up a fight, “but that’s not the point.  The point is to take a breather, recover.  You deserve that much.”

“Maybe,” Dean hummed. “Yeah, it might be nice,” he allowed, and Sam wilted with relief.

“Yeah, I think it would be. Maybe you could go ice fishing or something.  You like fishing.”

Yes, he did like fishing. It was calm and quiet, and Dean could sit alone with his thoughts without having to be actually alone if he didn’t want to be because the whole point of fishing was to be quiet.  Sometimes Dean would catch a few, let them flop around until they died so he could take them home and gut them and fry them up.  Sam had always liked fish.  Other times, Dean would let his catches go because he just liked the sport of it.  If you could call fishing a sport.  Golf was a sport, was fishing?

“Or bowling,” Sam continued. “You love going bowling.”

“Sam.”  Dean levels him with a stare over the island.  Sam’s sitting innocently at the table.  “I know what I like.  And I know that people do things they like when they go on vacation.”

“Oh?” Sam intones.  “Do you, now?  Because last I recall, we haven’t exactly ever been on one.”

“Yeah, well, I just know,” Dean says, waving off the Devil’s Advocate.  “Because you’re…the point’s to get all zen or whatever, right?  To return to yourself?  And if returning to myself means going ice fishing and bowling, then by God that’s what I’mma do.”

Sam shakes his head.  “You’re cracked.”  He snorts.  “Returning to yourself, that’s good.  That’s a good one, coming from you.”  Dean smirks.  “So…you’ll go?”

Dean goes.  And in between shit inevitably hitting the fan, he does do some fishing and bowling.  He does some odd jobs for Donna, which she seems genuinely grateful for.  He schools both her and his mother at the alley, not feeling the least bit goofy in his gigantic bowling shoes because he is damn good at bowling and scores well over two-hundred.  He’s got a perfect game somewhere in Alabama, and another one in Maryland.  

“Uffdah,” Donna says brightly.  “I learn somethin’ new ‘bout ya every day, don’t I?” She laughs.  Dean shrugs bashfully, but not really.

“We all have our talents,” he says, batting his eyes, and Donna and Mom laugh again.

Dean thinks of Jack then, of fishing with him.  How he said that he wouldn’t miss Tahiti or the Taj Mahal – he’d miss the little things. Like more time with him.  Dean knows it’s a cliché, but it’s a cliché because it’s true.  He thinks about how they won’t miss him in the grand scheme.  He is one man.  He is one man.  It’s very melodramatic, very Sophie’s Choice and Tuesdays with Morrie, but shit – it’s him or the universe.  It’s no contest.

xXx

“I didn’t know you smoked.”

Dean turns and sees his mother.  He shrugs sheepishly, takes a long drag off his cigarette and blows smoke rings into the frigid Minnesota air – a trick he perfected over many years.  Mom even looks a little impressed.  “Not often.  Anymore,” he amends.  “Used to be real bad about it, but now…”

“Good for you,” Mom says, speaking to his quitting.  Dean’s mouth quirks into something like a smile.  “But why right now?”

“Just everything,” he says. “Just trying to come down off it all.”

Mom nods her understanding and sits beside him on the bench swing, looking out at the lake and the woods beyond them, the moon shining off the water and not a sound to be heard. This little lake town really is nowhere. “That was another thing, when I came back.  It’s just…no one does it anymore.”

They really don’t.

xXx

Before he leaves, Mom and Donna insist on baking him a cake. For his birthday.  It’s an impromptu little celebration, and Dean grins and thanks them and blows out all forty candles after they sing to him very off-key.  All forty candles.  Not as easy as it used to be.

xXx

“…and Jack has become interested in doing more reading that’s less lore-focused, so I found a list of American classics for him to start with that I believe he’ll be able to comprehend…”

Jack proudly presents him with his stack of books.  Tom Sawyer, Huckleberry Finn, Little Women, The Great Gatsby, The Catcher in the Rye, The Natural, Gone with the Wind.  It’s quite the list, thousands of pages, but Jack seems to be looking forward to it, and though he knows nothing of culture, Cas seems to be excited to act as some kind of schoolmarm.  Dean doesn’t know if these were all in their library, this massive room where they were sitting now.  Dean also wondered if they should get the kid a library card.

“Cool,” Dean nods, still only half-listening.  This is so small compared to everything they have to deal with, but he’s happy for the kid.

“I’m trying to help him feel normal.  Human,” Cas tells him in confidence later.  “What he did was selfless, but…dangerous.  I want to shift his focus.  It’s a start,” he says at Dean’s skeptical look.  “Do you have a better idea?  Because what if he goes out on a hunt and does the same thing?  It’s a reflex.”

Cas is desperate.  Dean is almost glad for it.  He wants Cas and Jack to have new focuses.  He wants Sam to keep doing what he’s doing, leading. He wants Cas to do this whole homeschool parent thing.  He wants…he wants Jack to have everything he didn’t.  They need to have things to hang onto After.  Even if Dean doesn’t know when After is.  “I get it,” Dean finally says.  “It’s a start.”

xXx

It feels like everything is always just a start.  Nothing ever gets finished.  There’s always…well, a fresh twist to the knot.

xXx

Baby already has a lingering smell of cigarettes, so sometimes he goes on drives just so he can have the excuse to smoke.  He’ll park the car out in one of Lebanon’s many fields and sit and smoke and pretend it’s 1967, when a sight like this – a man like him, bogarting a Marlboro in a ’67 Impala in the middle of some field on some farm – could be even remotely normal. He’s even kinda dressed like a farmer, he supposes.  

One of the times, he even gets a visitor.

“What’s this?”

He’s just sitting on the hood of the car when Billie shows up.  He doesn’t even flinch.  “Smokin’.”

“Smokin’ to live, or smokin’ to die?” She asks smartly, cocking an eyebrow.  Billie almost looks amused with him.

“Why’re you here?”

“Answer my question first.”

Dean sighs.  “To die, Billie,” he grins.  “To die.  You know how this story ends same as I do.  I can’t let Michael out,” he says more seriously.  “I can’t.  I’m okay with this.  I’m just trying to get to the end before Michael does.”

Billie now raises both her eyebrows in quiet surprise.  Maybe she’s just a little bit proud of him for finally doing the right thing.  “You should tell them,” is what she says.  “This isn’t the sort of thing you should just spring on them, believe it or not.  You have a rare gift.”

“Gift?” Dean repeats, then laughs humorlessly.  “This ain’t no gift.  I’m choosing this, Billie.  That don’t mean I like it.”

“But you are at peace with it,” she says.  “You’ve had time to find that peace.  You owe them that much.”

Dean looks at her with skepticism.  There’s something very odd about this interaction.  “Why you bein’ so nice to me?  Huh? What’s your angle?”

“No angle,” she shrugs casually.  “Besides gratitude, perhaps.  You and your brother and that angel Castiel screw up constantly, and for once – “

“For once?” Dean repeats. “You know how many times the three of us have given ourselves up for the greater good?” He spits, finding some fire. “I’m sick of it!  But I don’t see any other options!”  He takes an angry drag off his cigarette and blows the smoke out like he’s a fire-breathing dragon, which Dean thinks would be pretty cool because real life dragons are kinda lame.  

“I believe you’re actually doing a service to yourself this time, Dean,” she says calmly, not letting him get her goat.  “It’s for the greater good, yes.  And it will be painful.  It will be a very horrific thing, in a very human way that I don’t think you’re quite prepared for.  Yet.  I can see it all, Dean, and in the end, you will see.”

“I will see,” he mocks, waving his hands.  “Spare me.”

“I am.”

Dean swallows.  “How am I supposed to make sure it happens?  What do I do to make sure?” He asks.  “To make sure Michael doesn’t get his chance.”

Billie’s mouth lifts in a one-sided sarcastic smile.  “Keep smokin’, Marlboro Man.  Keep smokin’.”

xXx

Dean makes pancakes. Dean makes pancakes and fries up two pounds of bacon (probably) and homemade hash browns and biscuits and sets out jam and butter and even some fruit for Sam so he doesn’t have to hear him bitch.  He smokes the whole time because he’s starting to itch for it again, just like the old days, just like when he and the old man would sit on the Impala after a hunt and wind down.  He’s smoking to die.  He’s smoking to save the whole damn world.  He’s smoking for whatever mercy Billie has in store for him.  

“What’s this?”

Dean looks over his shoulder, finds Sam.  “What’s it look like?  It’s breakfast!”

Sam sniffs the air.  Dean thinks it smells pretty damn good, if you were to ask him.  He’s a damn good cook.  Like fishing and bowling, as Sam pointed out, this is one of the things he likes to do. He’s gonna hang onto that.  He’s gonna hang on to the fact that he, Dean, likes fishing and bowling and cooking and that book Billie gave him can’t capture that.  It may know about the birthmark on his ass, but it doesn’t know how good his blueberry pancakes are, and the Universe can’t take that away from him.  It won’t.

“You’ve been smoking,” Sam says matter-of-fact.  

“And we’ve only got one crappy, chipped ashtray.”  Dean shakes his head.  Sam watches him; he looks disappointed.  Dean prepares himself for the DARE speech, but his brother doesn’t say anything.  “Get Cas and Jack in here.  There’s too much food and I don’t wanna waste it.”

Jack’s eyes grow wide at the sight, and Cas gives Dean a funny look, but Dean’s too busy piling up his plate alongside Jack to respond.  Cas does the courteous thing and fixes himself a plate, and Sam does the same, even thanks him for putting out fruit, though his voice sounds kind of funny.  

“What brought all this on?” He asks.  Dean shrugs.

“I like cooking.  Just like I like fishing and bowling,” Dean says smartly, smiling at Sam like it’s some sort of inside-joke.  Sam doesn’t smile back.

“I think you should do this every morning,” Jack says, already on his seconds.

“That’s quite a lot of work, Jack,” Cas tells him.  “We can’t ask Dean to do that.”

“Yeah,” Jack allows.  “But it would be nice if it were easy and we could have this every morning.”

“What about Krunch Cookie Crunch?”

Sam allows himself to get distracted from his own concerns for a moment and goes on a tirade about GMOs and trans fats and processed sugars that they’ve all heard before. Dean can’t help but smile about it, even with the bomb he’s about to drop.  “To tell the truth, I kinda wanted to talk to you guys about something.”

“I knew it!” Sam pounces. “And that whole fuckin’ kitchen smelled like nicotine.”

“That’s a bad word,” Jack reminds him.  “Four-dollar. And what’s nicotine?”

“A chemical found in cigarettes,” Cas explains.  “Dean, you were smoking?  I haven’t seen you do that in years.”

“Neither have I,” Sam said accusingly, staring daggers.  Not mad, but…confused, maybe, and definitely upset.  He clearly thought his anti-smoking propaganda had worked.  “What’s wrong?”

Dean tries to keep smiling. He starts ripping up one of his biscuits; it’s so flaky.  He’s so good at this.  “I talked to Billie,” he began.  “And she gave me a lot to think about.”

xXx

When he finishes telling them, the three of them sit in stunned silence.  Jack looks confused, but Sam and Cas don’t.  In fact, they look like they perfectly understand what’s going on, why Dean has chosen this, what his plan is, but they don’t like it. He can see their minds already racing to find a way out of this, to change the course of Fate yet again, to once again extend Dean’s lease on life, but Dean knows that’s not going to happen. Billie told him; in order to keep Michael locked in there, to keep that particular tragedy from happening, he needed to keep on smoking.

xXx

“You’re just going to let yourself get sick?”

Jack has darkened his doorstep.  Ever since their family meeting this morning, Sam and Cas have gone into hyperdrive, which is also just a way for them to avoid him.  Dean figures their pretty upset with him right now, thinking he’s given up like he always does and now they’re going to have to save him.  But not this time.  Dean knows this intrinsically.  He just has a feeling about it.

“I guess,” Dean breathes. “Kid.  It could be years from now.  I don’t know.  It’s written in the stars, Jack,” he says with a touch of humor.  “There are two options.  I choose this.  I’m okay with it.”  Usually. He was usually okay with it.  Not always.  Sometimes it made him so mad he wanted to run as far from here as he could and just scream.  And sometimes, he did just that.  But he drove – never ran.

Jack is near tears already. “I don’t understand,” he says miserably.

“You don’t have to.” Dean pats the spot on the bed next to him.  “Jack, you ever seen The Simpsons?”  Jack shakes his head, his eyes still welling up.  “Well, c’mere, then.  I think you’re really gonna like this Lisa kid.  You and her are on the same wavelength.”

Jack looks skeptical, but he nods and sits down next to Dean and as the screen lights up with bright yellows and pinks and Marge’s blue hair, he even starts to laugh.

xXx

“You don’t have to understand this, Sam.  You don’t have to fix this.  There’s time. It’s not happening right now.  I just have to do what I have to do to make sure it does.  The universe, Sam.  Not just the Earth this time.  The whole universe of universes.”

…

..

.

“I’m okay with this, Sammy. Sammy, I’m okay with this.”

…

..

.

“…You really have time?”

“Yes.  I don’t know how much, but yes.  The universe, Sammy.  Please.”

…

..

.

“I hate you sometimes.”

“I’m okay with that.”

“But I love you most of the time.”

“Right.”

“And you’re going to die a slow and painful and semi-natural death someday just so you can save the universe one last time.”

“That’s about right.”

Dean takes a drag off his cigarette and smiles.  Sam smiles back all watery and shaky and unconfident, but also with all the love in the world.  

“You’re a fuckin’ jerk,” Sam spits.  “Always need the spotlight.”

But he keeps smiling.

xXx

So for once, they do nothing about it.

Well, Dean keeps smoking. But that’s the extent of it.

xXx

They don’t tell Mom. She doesn’t need that.  The four of them is enough.  When it does eventually happen, whenever that may be, she’ll have to find her peace with it, too.  But she shouldn’t have to now.  She deserved to have a Now that was as joyous as they could make it.

xXx

Billie was privy to the much larger picture.

She had many souls to oversee, but there were few storylines that interested her as much as this one, even years later.  It wasn’t right to pick favorites, she knew that, but she couldn’t help it; those Winchesters were her guilty pleasure.  Pop some popcorn and sit back.

Years later.  It was a fair amount of years later.

She could not even begin to fathom how that had happened.

xXx

Dean started coughing at the beach.  A place called Englewood in Florida, not far from Fort Myers.  Small beach town, good seafood.  Family road trip, complete with a soundtrack of the Traveling Wilburys and Dean’s Marlboro’s and cheesy Hawaiian shirts and plenty of pale beer.  Billie appreciated that Dean even wore shorts for the occasion.  And that he would go on the back porch at night and stare out at the water and smell the water from the Gulf carried on the breeze and light up, the amber tip of his cigarette glowing against the summer dark.  It was one of their few reprieves.

Billie saw it as a good a time as any to check in.

“My number’s not up yet. I know it ain’t,” Dean said defiantly, brazen.  But he was right.

“How many times has Michael gotten close over the years?”

Dean paused.  “A few,” he lied.  Billie knew it was more than that.  “But I just did what you said.  Just kept smokin’.”

“Good for you.”

“Whaddya want, Billie?”

Billie didn’t say anything for a moment.  “Nothing,” she said finally.  “Well. Maybe I wanted to thank you.”

“Finally,” Dean scoffed. “Been waitin’ on that for years.” He took a drag and sighed.  “Sam wants to take Jack jet skiing.  They’re on the lookout for dolphins, manatees.  Can’t believe we let the kid come along – he can’t fuckin’ sit still.  Always wants to see the next thing.  Most times, I just wanna sit and watch the water.”

“It is beautiful down here,” Billie agrees, and she wondered when conversation got this easy with him. Dean and Death – they were old friends. He greeted her as such.  Dean coughed, short and sharp into his fist.

“And Cas, he wants to see the Everglades.  He says it’s been too long or something, that he hasn’t really paid them any mind since they formed.  It’s a bit of a drive, but it’s not like we can’t handle a bit of driving.  And we’ve got plenty of time.”

“And you, you just want to sit and watch the water?”

Dean chuckled.  “I do what they want to do.  And I do that.  Food’s good as hell down here.  Fresh seafood’s the best, Billie.”

He remembers going up to Donna’s cabin years ago to see Mom, how he quipped to Sam something about returning to yourself or whatever.  He kinda got where his past self was coming from now.

“Dean.”

He sighed, dropped his smoke onto the concrete and snuffed it out with his sandal.  “I know,” he said quietly.  “I can feel it, almost.  There’s…like a shift.  I think that’s part of why now was the time to come here, ya know?  They don’t know yet.  When we get back to Kansas.  We deserve to have that long.”

“You do.  Not disagreeing.”

“Why are you here, then?”

“Just to say hello,” Billie shrugged.  “And to say thanks, like I said.  This was the right choice.”

Dean sighs.  “I know.  It just doesn’t always feel that way.”  He coughed again.  “See?”

“You did the right thing. You listened to me for once.  You’ll see the payoff.”

But Billie, she saw more than just that.  She saw what was going to happen in the coming months.  She saw a doctor breaking news that they already knew was coming, had foreseen for years.  She saw Sam and Dean telling a devastated Mary, telling Jody Mills and Donna Hanscum and Bobby Singer and Rowena and Garth.  She saw Dean getting worse, Michael deteriorating right along with him.  She saw Jack coming in to Dean’s room with a genuine smile on his face and real sadness in his heart so the two of them could sit and laugh at The Simpsons and bad slasher flicks.  She saw Cas, praying and praying and praying, always so earnest, in hopes to make this as easy as possible, looking for confirmation that allowing his best friend to go through with this had truly been the best choice.  She saw poor Sam putting on a brave face and laughing with his brother as they joked about the disgusting and humbling job that was home care – they will try treatment, and Dean will eventually say It’s just making me sicker.  I’ve had enough.  And she saw Dean getting paler and paler and his eyes getting redder and more bruised and his appetite decreasing as he lost the taste for food, which is something he will cry over, an unexpected side effect.  She sees it getting worse and worse as he quietly slips away, without a bang but with a whimper, the exact opposite of what he wanted but the desired effect.  Dean doesn’t see all this yet.  He doesn’t know how hard breathing is going to get and how oxygen tanks get in the way of bowling and fishing, and he hasn’t yet brought up blood with his cough, a cough that’s really only in its infant stages.  Small mercies, she supposes.  He doesn’t see all this yet; that’s going to take some time.  Which, believe it or not, he still has some of.

The next time Dean sees Billie, he’ll be in the bunker, wandering its halls.  He did something similar as a young man, after a car crash. This time, there’s no saving him. Dean’s spirit will find Billie sitting at the kitchen table, waiting for him as she has for so many years.  He’ll know what’s going on, having been in the position before.  And he will go with her, Billie knows this.  

But there is still time laid out before them before any of this can happen.

“Hope to hell I do,” Dean says good-naturedly.  “Otherwise…”

“Otherwise what?”

Dean hemmed and hawed. “I don’t know yet.  But I’ve got time to think of somethin’,” he grinned. Billie almost smiled back.

“Ya know,” she began, changing the subject, “there’s a cute little bowling alley here in town that you all should check out.  I think you deserve to score a three-hundred while you’re in Florida.  And there’s plenty of fishing to be done.”

“Oh, I know ‘bout that,” Dean nodded.  “But thanks for the tip about the bowling alley.  We’ll definitely be checkin’ that out.”  He doesn’t say that it’s one of this dying man’s many wishes.  But he thinks it, and Billie can hear it.  She is Death – she kinda see and knows…not quite all, but almost. “But Billie?”

“What.”

“What’s the payoff?”

She saw that coming, too. He asks every time.  “The safety of the universe.”

“For me, I mean.”

Finally a selfish thought.

“The next time I see you, I’ll tell you.  In the meantime?  Bowling.”

Dean nods knowingly.  “Bowling.”

xXx

She greets him with a pack of Marlboro’s.

.

..

…

(But that’s not the payoff.)

[gch1995]

Hook/CS Fan in response to me on Reddit that CS ruined this show: As I recall the writers gave plenty of support to CS, even before Nealfire died. You can’t blame one ship for everything that the characters end up doing later.

Me: I do think that a big part of it was A&E and these writers sheer lazy inability in coming up with any sort of new organic character development after two-and-a-half seasons (the Neverland arc), and their total inability to stick to their own rules of magic in favor of their contrived magical prophecies, macguffins, and twists. Recycled arcs (Aesop’s Amnesia) via cheaply shocking, forced, nonsensical, and/or wildly ooc derailment to achieve re-railment through bizarre contrivances and plot twists became a major problem in the writing for every remaining main character that lasted on this show past season three ish. It was not just a problem in the writing with Rumple and Belle post S3 ish, but Emma, Regina, Snow, David, Henry, and even and even Hook, Kitsowitz and these writers favorite, as well. They clearly ran out of story to tell after the Neverland arc, and they didn’t know where else to go from there after they achieved the ultimate endgame arcs they always intended for these main characters to have in a relatively consistent, dynamic, and relatable way from S1-3A. Instead of letting the story unfold in a way that incorporated compelling, organic, and relatable growth from there, they kept trying to retread the stories they had already told for Emma, Regina, Rumple, Belle, Snow, David, Henry, and even Hook throughout 3B-S7 over and over and over again in increasingly contrived, repetitive, and ridiculous ways.

However, I also feel a lot of the injustice done to Nealfire, Rumple, Belle, Rumbelle, Emma, and even Hook himself from 3B-S7 had to do with the writers wanting to prop up Hook onto a pedestal since they were too lazy to actually develop him into a better person, who was genuinely worthy of redemption.

You just cannot convince me that there was any other reason why Nealfire “had” to die than the fact that the writers “needed” for Hook to be in the place of Emma’s main love interest and Rumple’s son in the narrative because the writers were too lazy to develop/redeem Hook organically as an individual character without demonizing Rumple and/or getting rid of Swanfire competition.

If they were good writers then they could have found a way to easily keep Bae alive, while also having CS at the same time. Rumple could either RIP on the show after his well-earned redemption in 3x11, and/or Rumple could have had more time with his son and Belle, while also struggling with this whole “love versus power” thing in a more consistent, in-character, organic, and sympathetic manner from 3B-S6, rather than having him die selflessly to save everyone in the 3A finale.

You just cannot convince me that they suddenly started framing Rumple as a wildly OOC bizarre cartoon mustache twirler villain, who supposedly wanted power for its own sake “because it’s who he was” and “world domination” when he was sitting besides Hook the whole time in 4A, and his big schemes with magic had always been framed as family oriented and sympathetic beforehand, even if they were selfish and shortsighted.

Rumple had just gone through a horrific ordeal with Zelena, and he’d just lost the son he spent three centuries searching for, and A&E the writers pretended it never happened because it didn’t matter to them as writers since it got in the way of how terrible Rumple “had” to be made to look to make Hook look better.

Even more than that, the entire remaining main cast, including Belle his true love, just suddenly began to get away with treating Rumple as less than a human being, but a monster who was unworthy of compassion, emotional support, empathy, mercy, and understanding, even when he reached out for it from S4-S6 now when David used to be buddies with him, and Belle used to tell him that he could tell her anything back in S2.

From S4-S6, no one cared when he reached our for understanding and emotional support about his fears on Once Upon A Hook, including Belle, who was suddenly such a “hero” for needlessly making a choice to recklessly endangering her true love’s life by banishing her crippled husband with nothing for what was supposed to be forever to make Hook look better when just in the episode before of “Family Business” the narrative had made it clear that it was morally wrong for Belle or anyone else on this show to use the dagger on Rumple when it was used in a needlessly cruel, controlling, reckless, and hurtful manner. So why was it suddenly “okay” now for Belle to get deemed as “heroic” and “strong” for needlessly making a choice to recklessly endanger Rumple’s life by forcibly banishing him from his home with nothing when he could have, and almost did, die out there because she left him without any means to protect himself? Why?

Belle forcibly banishing Rumple from his home with nothing was not heroic and strong of her to put Rumple through because she was angry he deceived her. It was a needlessly cruel act that would technically qualify as an act of domestic violence via reckless endangerment of his life by forcibly throwing him out of his home with nothing in real life. She could have even gotten charged with manslaughter via reckless endangerment of his life/abandonment, if Rumple had actually died out in New York because she left him with nothing in real life. So yeah, it was wildly ooc and incredibly fucked up for Belle to banish Rumple with nothing like that. Sure, Rumple deserved to be dumped by Belle for being a shady shit behind her back, and not letting her in on what he was planning to do by taking her and Henry from SB, only to leave behind the rest of the town under a curse cast by Ingrid that made everyone else see the worst in each other. I was expecting and even hoping Belle would dump Rumple for awhile after he deceived her like that, even if Rumple was my favorite character, and Rumbelle was my favorite ship. But to recklessly endanger Rumple’s life by forcibly banishing him with nothing, and then to get written off as “heroic” and “strong” for it in the narrative? Completely fucked up and wrong.

And why was it suddenly “okay” to for the other characters to mistreat Rumple from the end of 4A onwards, including Belle? Was it because Hook became Rumple’s victim in 4A after getting away with being a douche, so suddenly treating Rumple with this bizarre and unfair set of moral double standards was “okay” now.

Hook was literally being no better in this situation than Rumple in 4A when he was the one who needlessly blackmailed Rumple to give him his hand back by threatening to tell Belle about the dagger when a true friend would have just told Belle the truth either way about her newly wed husband being a shady little shit.

You cannot ever convince me that Rumple would disguise himself as Hook to get the dagger from Belle, and that Belle would give it to him, just like that, as if it was no big deal that she could have sold out her true love and her own safety to one of Rumple’s worst enemies.

You cannot ever convince me that Belle would just stand there passively while her “friends” insensitively talked about killing Rumple in 4B instead of defending her true love.

You cannot convince me that Belle would just stay on Hook’s ship when she was fully convinced that it would hurt Rumple if he found out the truth about Hook letting her stay on his ship, sit there and trash talk about him like it was no big deal because of a dream, and refuse to hear him out when he initially tried to reason with her gently when she was in danger from Hyde by verbally bitchslapping him with needlessly bitchy, cruel, and spiteful belittlements about how she and their child didn’t need his protection because she had her “friends” protection because of what a dream said. She basically was acting like his say didn’t matter in their child’s life, so he could fuck off, even before he started losing it. Rumple overreacted with the ship spell, Belle had every right to be wary of him after that in 6A, but she was not a needlessly cruel, petty, spiteful, or stupid bitch.

You cannot convince me that Belle would actually let it slide when Hook let it slip that it would be an “added benefit” for him to get back at Rumple. Belle has self-respect. This was not self-respect or strength. This was Belle deliberately enabling a douche who didn’t respect her or her loved ones, and being a petty bitch to Rumple. Belle is neither of those things when she is in character.

Rumple had lied to Belle in 4A, which was awful, but you cannot convince me that he would ever so much as threaten to recklessly harm her in a needless panic over a dream zygote for a pair of scissors he plotted to use that he’d never been seen using before on the show in the past FTL flashbacks before without looking for any concrete evidence first, doing research, and asking obvious questions about how bizarre and stupid his whole thing was with the baby before losing his shit over it. This was even more ridiculously ooc and stupid than that dumb hat plot he had back in 4A, and at the very least then there was legitimate concrete evidence in flashbacks that he had used it before, and so it was easy to believe he knew what he was doing with it. At least, it made some sense that he wouldn’t want to be controlled again after the fact that Zelena controlled and imprisoned him with the dagger for a year, though the framing of his motives came off as very bizarrely and uncharacteristically cartoonishly evil and unsympathetic.

In 6A, he just decided, “I’m going to take these random scissors from the EQ to brainwash my son to love me to save my family, even though I’ve legitimately never been shown using them before in the past, and this is probably the most bizarre and stupid idea the writers ever forced me to have for the PLOT with magic to cartoon vilify me?”

You cannot convince me Rumple would ever say shit to Belle like “Call it what you will, but everything I do, I do out of love for you” in response to her getting angry over him putting that bracelet to trap her to keep her from attempting to run away their unborn baby in 6x08.

Rumple seemed just fine in the UW after taking back the curse a few weeks ago in the timeline, he had never so much as considered harming Belle even when his heart was almost pitch black and we were supposed to believe this was literally the same dude who wept over her calling him a “Pathetic dog, begging for scraps” in 4B when Regina pulled out her heart to get leverage over him.

Rumple had never tried to use magic to “make someone love them.”

His entire thing was that “All magic comes with a price, but love is free.” He had never been cold or scary to Belle in their present day relationship, and even back in the Dark Castle, it had been increasingly obvious that it was a playful joke the more he fell in love with her, but now they were suddenly framing him as a wildly OOC cold, controlling, restrictive, reckless, threatening, and borderline manipulative deranged jackass? This was literally the entire opposite of five previous seasons and three episodes of established characterization for Rumple, and it was obvious A&E and the writers were deliberately tainting the one last consistently credible sympathetic thing about his characterization in the narrative that they hadn’t ruined yet from S4-S6 with the purity of his true love for Belle from 6x04-6x09 to make Hook/CS look better after 5A.

And I do get that Rumple’s biggest flaw is that he believes he’s unworthy of love, but the writers had flanderdized it to ridiculous lengths now that made him seemingly oblivious to all common sense and obvious solutions to bizarre magical shit and problems when he was supposed to be a mad genuis. Now, he was just acting like a deranged and reckless idiot in 6A.

Yet wasn’t it convenient that they were having Rumple suddenly go off the rails in 6A after how far they had taken CS in 5A the season before, and now Hook was the “good guy” in a “healthy” place with Emma a season later, in spite of still being a douche himself and getting away with it?

And Emma...Don’t get me started on Emma...She started out being a badass, compassionate, selfless, and empathetic heroic young woman who stuck up for the underdog, helped people out, even if she didn’t trust them, and put Henry and her family before everyone and everything else in her life...By the end of 5A, however, she was selfish, petty, and only interested in Hook.

In short, I don’t think that CS was the entire downfall of this show. However, I do think it was a part of it, especially in regards to the character assassinations for Rumple, Belle, Emma, and even Hook himself from 3B-S6 (and even S7), and Nealfire’s death.

[killian-whump]

OUAT 2x05: Rewatch Blog

Heeeeeeeey, everybody! Welcome to my liveblog of episode 2x05 of Once Upon a Time - “The Doctor”! This one’s about Dr. Whale aka Dr. Frankenstein. Or... something like that. I think that’s what it’s about. To be honest, I just call this one “the one where he’s tied to a tree” because I’m... me.

Anyway! Let’s get things underway, shall we?

Oh, look. A complete and utter massacre. That’s a lot of dead people.

Aaaaaaand here’s Blacksmith Hook :D Gosh, have I mentioned yet today how much I love it when Colin’s voice is all broken and trembly? ‘Cos I really, really, really love that.

Okay. I have some serious-ass questions about this decor right here. Number one: Did they NAIL those gourds to the front of the fence posts there? And, even more importantly...

In other news, that was a wonderful suckerpunch and David should be proud.

“Regina! Are you here to see me?” Umm. Does Archie get a lot of people knocking on his door to... like... NOT see him?

What’s up with all this testosterone all of a sudden? Geez. *sees Regina’s expression* SAME, GIRL. Same.

OH MY GOD, her sweet and innocent, “There, I did it!” T_T

Gosh, she’s so pretty, and this is one of my favorite outfits of hers.

“What’s holding you back?” I dunno, bro, seems like she straight up told you she didn’t want to kill the dang unicorn.

Hallucinating isn’t really a great sign, I’m just saying.

Hey, look! It’s David’s truck. Did you know his truck has a cameo in The Words music video by Christina Perri? It does! :)

OH MY GOD, HENRY IS SO SMOL. Sorry, I just joined the rewatch last episode, so this is the first time I’ve seen him this smol in awhile. Gosh.

Dave, pal, you’re a total buzzkill kinda. Let the kid ride the horse T_T

GRAND THEFT DEAD BOYFRIEND

You know what would really help this episode? Bucky Barnes.

I mean Jefferson. Yes. Jefferson.

These guys are such terrible actors. The characters, I mean.

I don’t know why, but Rumple’s “Nnnnn- Yes.” makes me laugh.

...but not as hard as Jefferson’s 1000x extra “pardon me” does. Honestly, one of the funniest moments in the whole dang show.

Aw, my baby <3 The angst is totally fake, but I don’t even care. Look how traumatized he is, and Colin’s doing the shaky voice thing again and... and...

*happy sigh* True Love’s knife to the throat! <3

Oh, you need a heart? Buddy, why didn’t you SAY so?? We got all kinds of hearts on this show. Big hearts, little hearts, red hearts, black hearts - ALL kinds of hearts for sale!

Always a bad sign when you find someone’s arm well before you find the rest of them.

“He’s a monster!” Okay, but just as long as he’s not a zombie.

“Whose hearts are these?” HAAAAAAAAAHAHAAAHA HIS FACE

I really wish Jefferson had stuck around on the show for longer.

Hospital scene! But it’s only Whale :/

Hahaha, David. “You have hearts here?!” Sweet, summer child. Of course she has hearts here. She has hearts everywhere else, why wouldn’t she have some here?

It’s a good thing I’m never around horses in real life, because I’ve seen so many scenes on television and in movies where they get frightened and it means there’s a ghost/werewolf/vampire/zombie around, like, I don’t think I could ever see a horse in real life act even the slightest bit anxious without immediately thinking, “WE’RE ALL GOING TO DIIIIIIIIE”

But, you know, I’m sure it means nothing here. Definitely not a zombie.

Oh, great. ALL the horses are scared. WE’RE ALL GONNA DIIIIIE D:

...or get clobbered by a horse. I mean, that’s better than a zom-

ZOMBIE!!! IT’S A FUCKING ZOMBIE!!! \o/ RUN FOR YOUR LIVES

In other news, I’ve just found Regina’s stolen dead boyfriend.

IT’S THE ONE WHERE HE’S TIED TO A TREE, GUYS.

And the son-of-a-bitch is so fucking happy about it, too <3

You know, I don’t see any reason why they couldn’t have done the entire next 6 seasons’ worth of episodes with him tied to various things. Trees, beds, chairs, playground equipment, car bumpers, fences, park benches...

I should probably pitch this to one of the networks. This is gold.

Okay, serious question: Why is Henry so terrified of this dude when he literally just walked in the door? Is Henry part horse?

Ohhhhhh, Henry knows about the horse thing, too. Savvy kid. Always trust the horses, Henry. Horses know true evil. And zombies.

Mmm... David takin’ charge and loadin’ his gun and bein’ smexy.

AHHHHH, Regina’s pain hurts me T_T

Hey, Dave, don’t shove my girl, okay? I do like this scene, though. I love Charming and Regina as a kinda sorta BroTP. Aw, heck, I just like Regina’s relationships with everybody. Ah, but David having sympathy for her T_T

Wait, I thought they got trapped in the vault and had to use magic to get themselves out? I guess that was a deleted scene I forgot was deleted. Oops. It was a good scene, though.

AHHHHHHHHHHH OMG THIS IS SO SAD T_T

AHHHHHHHHHHH OMG THIS IS SO SAD T_T (the sequel)

Great acting, though. Awesome acting <3

IT’S THE ONE WHERE HE’S TIED UP WHILST HIKING, GUYS

I mean, they don’t really need to tie him to things. This is good, too.

I don’t know what it is, but crying always seems sadder somehow when someone’s doing it while driving. Is that weird?

I also like this outfit. Black leather, yes.

Lana’s acting in this episode is super great, though. And I love how she even uses her vocal intonations to indicate her level of innocence/evil. Nice.

Archie, take care of my other baby, okay? T_T

These three little shits...

“Sure you’re not. Good luck.” Hahaha :D

Don’t mind the suspicious-looking dude with one arm and a cooler covered in blood. Don’t mind the even more suspicious dude who owns the pawn shop. Don’t mind anything or anyone in this entire show, actually.

I vaguely remember being impressed with the melodrama building up to the “big reveal” on first watching, but now I’m just seeing Shirin-level heavy-handedness and I want to throw popcorn at it.

THE END ~ PEW PEW! PEW PEW PEW!!!

[wily-one24]

I hope there's not a question limit per ask lol... Paint it Black: 3, 4, 5, 11, 12, 14 and 15 (or as many of those as you feel like answering lol)

Okay, two things.

A. Of *course* there’s no ask limit. I am an attention whore and will talk all day if you encourage me. Ask away!!

B. WTF tumblr? When I reposted that, it was a paragraph basically saying “ask about my fic!”, but now there are NUMBERED QUESTIONS? What? Where was the second half of that post when I came across it in my dash? 

ANSWERS

3. What’s your favourite line of narration?

Oh geez. How the hell am I going to answer that? I have favourite lines per chapter, I have favourite lines per scene! Each part I’m reading at any given moment happens to be my favourite. Every time I reread it, I find something new... and... maybe I suck for saying this... but I think “you’re a fucking genius”, then I get all sad, because I think that was probably one of the last great things I’ll write. I’ve been going downhill ever since... but anyways, to seriously answer your question, I’ll give a few examples... 

 - That face off scene between Regina and Snow, where Snow claims her father was a good man and Regina answers “To you!”, the entire scene is charged and emotional and brings up so much shit between them that was never explored in canon. 

- The flashback of Emma’s tenth birthday (technically collectively, all of the flashbacks, really. They’re angsty as fuck, but so formative in their characterisation that sometimes I forget they’re not actually canon). I have this habit of tearing Emma down to her bare bones and then trying to build her up again. I actually do this with most of my main female characters, and I do apologise for that Buffy, Kaylee, Veronica, Emma, and Alex. You all deserve so much better than me. 

- The scene where Regina is alone in the castle and revisits the old chamber of Leopold’s. It’s hard to read but that is some weird little cathartic release right there. There is some great imagery that I don’t think many people allow Regina when it comes to her healing. Everybody tends to go the “being married to Leopold was a BAD THING” route, without ever really exploring the day to day soul destroying aspect of it. The reality of being the King’s prisoner wife. But giving her the ability and strength to revisit it, so she can finally acknowledge to herself how damaging it was, to close herself off from it both literally and figuratively, and then to be self aware enough to compare that situation to the one she has Emma in. That is empowerment. 

- The parallel scenes of Emma and Henry at the start and the end of the fic. The first being when Henry is so adamant to rescue Emma and curse everyone again just to take them back... and the last where you can see how much indoctrinated he is into the fairy tale land, how much he is drifting from “our world” being the real one, to the fairy tale land being his reality, and how his morality has shifted... but then... he also brings it back by getting vulnerable and shows his concern not just for Emma but for Regina... which also shows great advancement from the child like black/white morality of good vs evil he begins with to an acceptance of a more adult grey-area morality, his willingness to examine the facts and the truth to make up his mind. 

All the minor characters... Nancy (sweet, voiced Nancy), and Miss Edith (poor Miss Edith), Rachel, all the little characters that had such minor parts, but had such great effects in the lives of our main characters. 

Oooh, writing Rumple was fun. I got to write him as nobody really does. As that creepy reptilian imp from the first few flashbacks in S1. Before they really woobified him. The hysteric giggling, maniacal creature who smelled the air and exuded pure malice. It was really enjoyable writing him like that. 

Well, this went terribly off topic... anyway, yes, flashback scenes and confrontation scenes, be they between Snow and Regina, Emma and Regina, Regina and Maleficent, Emma and Snow, Emma and Henry... it’s in emotion that the true power of the fic lives. 

4. What’s your favourite line of dialogue?

oh, this is harder than the first. It would take me ages to reread this fic (and now I most likely am, thanks) to really go through it and cherry pick my favourites. But, if a line has happened to truly hit home and resonate with you as a reader, it most likely did the same for me. I remember quite a few times writing this fic, thinking “holy fuck!” and knowing, just knowing, that it was definitely the line to write. 

5. What part was the hardest to write?

The first two chapters. Up until the pivotal moment where Regina heals Emma, those were difficult to write and definitely difficult to read. I’ve had many readers tell me they were about to give up, bc it was too much torture porn to enjoy, but that moment specifically was a turning point for them because it built up the trust that I could and would reign Regina in beyond the point of no forgiveness or return. 

11. What do you like best about this fic?

I liked writing it. 

It took me to some pretty intense places. Fic writing, for me, has always been a form of therapy. I work through to some pretty intense fucking emotions through the angst of it all. Like, no, I have never been magically transported to a fairy tale land, collared, enslaved, and held against my will for the sake of my family and community’s lives... but if you look deeper in my life at the time, I had just been through a pretty horrific pregnancy that nearly killed me, my spouse and I separated, and I was left ill, recovering, and a single mother of a toddler and infant. I felt like I was being ripped apart from all angles, forced into a live of servitude for the betterment of everyone around me at the cost of myself. Even, though, like Emma, I didn’t blame them, it was still a period of mourning and loss.

I didn’t realise it at the time. This revelation happened years later when rereading the fic and trying to see where all the emotions had been coming from. It happens a lot with some of my more intense, dramatic, and (strangely enough) most popular fics. I don’t always see the correlation to my life at the time, but if I look back I can generally trace the rationality behind what my muse was trying to work through. 

12. What do you like least about this fic?

The polarisation. The controversy. That fucking chapter fucking four. I still cannot reread that chapter without having to take a step back and breathe. That scene has some good imagery, but even now sometimes I just skip it. It’s not worth the shakes or unease or... ugh, just thinking about it upsets me. 

I made a mistake in the tagging and I learned from it, but holy fuck was I attacked at the time and used as a sacrifical cow to the radfems. It was, honestly, surprising to me. Not only the reaction, but the harshness of it, all the accusation and personal attacks aimed at me.  

I mean, I knew the fic was always going to be confronting to some. It dealt with some pretty hard issues and subject matter. I had warned for all the violence and non/dub con. But... I didn’t expect or prepare for the backlash in including a male, even if the male used was... just used... and never actually amounted to anything more than a tool for Regina to control/bind/further entrench Emma to her own will in one scene. 

I, very naively, went into it thinking “surprise!”, and that an almost canon past pairing that was heavily explored in the actual show would not be controversial in the least. More fool me, I suppose. I definitely went back to re-tag it, I apologised. I am not sure what else I could have done, but to this day this fic is held up as an example of queer baiting and everything wrong with false lesbianism. And it is definitely used as an example by biphobic people as to why bisexual women cannot be trusted as we’re all “really straight women at heart”.

To be fair, I never explicitly labelled the fic as “lesbian”. I begin all my fics (no matter how AU or ‘out there’) from a canon stand point. Meaning, everything that happened in the show up to that point counts. Which includes every prior relationship both Emma and Regina had been in up to the Season One finale. Which, surprise, were with men!! 

14. Is there anything you wanted readers to learn from reading this fic?

I don’t know if there’s anything they should ‘learn’, but I definitely hope readers realise that this is in NO WAY AN EXAMPLE OF A HEALTHY BDSM RELATIONSHIP. It is not meant to be a guide, a ‘how to’, or a ‘goal’. This is an incredibly fucked up way for two already fucked up characters, to find some kind of semblance of existence in a world/s stacked up against them from the very start. I didn’t think I needed to state that out loud, but apparently I had to. Many times.  

If not that... then definitely I hope perhaps some of the writing made people think about the characters more in depth, or differently, that it gave the reader a new way of thinking about the show and the storylines/characters in it.  

15. What did you learn from writing this fic?

Tagging. Tagging fucking matters. Tag properly. Like, just do it. 

In all seriousness, though... I think I learned a lot about my own trauma. 

I also think my writing developed throughout the fic. There is a definite shift from the first two chapters... you can definitely see where it became less of a short one off smutty fic set up and more of an in depth angsty character exploration of the soul kinda thing. 

I learned about set up and development and bringing in stray bits of plot development later in the story to tie up loose ends.