#it's a beautiful story and she makes sure to remember what she can tell Gil about

[softquietsteadylove]

Spicy Addams Family AU? 🔥

The curtains fluttered in the breeze, the air simply too hot to close all the windows. They swayed further into the library and then back towards the sun streaming in, as if gossiping with the rays and the shelves about what they witnessed.

His mouth was hot against hers, tongues dallying in a way she had never imagined tongues could do. She had never seen him quite so demanding, always soft spoken and amiable. He was a true gentleman, and the gentleman had his hand sliding up her leg, heavy skirts of her dress be damned.

Thena turned the page delicately, as if the sound of it would immediately alert her mother to the book of hers Thena had found sitting unguarded. She wasn't allowed to read any of Mother's romances. Something about them not being for her eyes. But she was quite ready to be free of her parents, she thought. And it was just a book.

Gil would tell her to read it.

Her back hit the shelves behind her as they continued in their lasciviousness. He uttered a sound that rumbled from his chest. His hands grew feverish, clawing up her dress until he could grasp her thigh and hoist her higher. His lips, ever demanding, pressed to her neck, following the path of her throat to the neckline of her dress.

Thena sunk further down against her many pillows. Her legs twisted under her plush white duvet. The prose of the book were certainly romantic. Perhaps more...detailed than she would have expected.

He pushed her dress up further and further. The skirts of it pooled up around him until she no longer had an unobstructed view of him. She had half a mind to ask what he was doing, but the half a mind she possessed still became hazy. His mouth pressed to the inside of her thigh, dragging her stockings down and out of his way. She did not know mouths were meant for these sorts of things.

What sorts of things?

His tongue found her first. That clever, gentle and sometimes overly honest tongue he possessed. It touched her in her barest form, sliding around the bends and folds of her. He pressed it firmly to the nerves collected at the peak of her womanhood. She had never felt such sensations before.

Thena shifted in her bed again. She wasn't entirely sure what nerves they were talking about, nor why they were calling it 'her womanhood'. She swallowed but it sounded dry to her ears, her room otherwise deathly silent. Not even Theseus was awake.

Her back arched. She ran her fingers through the thick locks of dark hair upon his head. He kissed her between her legs the same way he had her mouth. Sounds she had never before uttered escaped her. Her cheeks were flushed hot. The rest of her flushed hotter.

Thena indeed found herself pressing her fingertips to her cheeks. Her legs squirmed again. She made a face as she pressed her thighs together, a curious sensation building between them. She could picture the happenings of the book well. The man with his broad shoulders, his dark hair.

It built and built until she was on the precipice of undoing. She tilted her head up, her breasts heaving against her corset. The thick collection of her brown hair-

No, no that wasn't right. Thena squeezed her eyes shut, her legs rubbing like a cricket's. That wasn't what was in her head. She dug her shoulders into her pillow. She lost where she was on the page, hunting to continue.

His manhood-

Again with the obscurities. She at least knew the word for it.

His manhood throbbed in the open air. She had little time to examine it in its glory before he was bringing her hips closer, to the very edge of the ladder until they could be joined.

They had moved to the ladder in the bit she missed. Oh well.

She allowed him to enter her, filling her in ways she had never imagined. Her whole body folded around him, pulsing with the beating of her heart. He was thick, and he began moving immediately.

Thena pressed her lips together. Her hips swivelled and she slipped a hand under the covers. She too had to inch up the hem of her nightdress until she could find her own skin. There was a dampness between her thighs that was most certainly not her monthly.

He moved gently at first, rocking like waves against the shore. This was the act of love making. The physical profession of love, she thought. Two bodies entangled in the most intimate sense of the word. She slid her arm across his wide shoulders and tugged at the hair at the back of his head. Lovemaking was all well and good, but she wanted more.

She had heard fucking was also the physical act of love.

Thena breathed heavier as she read. Lovemaking in the poetic language became detailed, bordering on graphic. The man grew more energetic, words like 'pounding' and 'rutting' jumping out at her from the page. Her fingers, now coated in the wetness between her legs, ventured further.

Her jaw dropped faintly as she pushed where she had not pushed before. Perhaps this was the collection of nerves of which they spoke. She touched it lightly at first, before realising certain angles were too much. She changed approach, rubbing it downward from above.

She let out a faint moan, still far too loud for her echously large room lit only by her lamp. She pressed her head into her pillow, no longer concerned with what was happening on the page.

They were in the middle of fucking, as it were. The man was 'pounding' into her, his 'thickness' moving in and out of her at such speeds. Hips were rolling, bodies were writhing, it was all quite a lot.

"Gil."

She didn't mean to say it. It just...slipped out. Her mind was moving faster than before, but she also wasn't thinking clearly. Her fingers moved faster, trying to bring about something. Her head rolled to the side.

She could imagine Gil as the book's beloved hero. He was tall, with broad shoulders, dark hair. He was kind, and had a sweet nature to him, but not without his own sense of mischief.

Gil had soft looking lips. He had a wide back and thick arms. He was warm, and he always smelled nice whenever they were in close proximity. His hand would hold hers gently as they went up or down the stairs.

She could imagine Gil's lips on her neck, like in the book. She could practically feel his hands on her skin, his sturdy but gentle grip holding her as he grasped her thighs.

"Gil," she whimpered, tracing around those nerves again. There was more wetness, now. Her hands did grow feverish (the book was right).

He would kiss her like that. She would know what it felt like for his incoming moustache to scratch her skin. Perhaps he would kiss her between her legs, like in this library scene. Would they make love? Or would they fuck?

"Yes," she gasped, eyes sealed shut and hand moving faster. He would whisper sweetly to her, call her pretty like he did that day it was raining.

Something was coming. She tried to bring it forth. She picked up speed, changed angle, went back when she felt it slipping further away. Her breathing became feverish and she felt the flush in her skin spread all over her body.

Thena rolled onto her side, squeezing her thighs around her hand as her insides pulsed rapidly. She dug her nails into her pillow and held her lips together as she made sounds she'd never heard herself make. It felt like a fever, like her muscles had been tense and finally released. It felt like relief.

She rolled onto her back again, practically panting for breath, for which she felt a little foolish. It was just her in here, with her hand and a book. She could understand why mother had forbade her from reading them. Such heretical things they printed!

She picked up the fallen book, eagerly searching for where she had left off. Not that she would be resuming her activity with it, but it was still a story in need of completion.

She nearly yelped as a tapping on her window startled her. The book fell from her grasp as she looked at her balcony. It was Gil's messenger, a corvid named Mandu. She cleared her throat, pulling up the strap of her nightdress and wrapping her shawl around her to greet the bird properly. "Come in."

The creature obliged, flapping from the rail of the balcony to her writing desk, tilting his head.

Thena flushed with guilt. Gil was asking if she'd read the book he had sent her home with from their last visit. And if she hadn't been distracted by her mother's...diversion, she would have finished it by now.

The bird eyed her, surely wanting to return home.

"Sorry," she gave him an apologetic smile before hurriedly scribbling a reply.

She was extra sorry for lying. She wouldn't normally!--not to Gil, at least. But this was a unique circumstance. So just this once, she would tell a small fib. And she would read the book right away! It wouldn't be a fib for long.

She examined the hastily scribbled message.

It's a beautiful story. I can see why you treasure it so. I'll tell you all the parts I loved most when you visit next week.

They never bothered addressing their little messages anymore. It was too formal for a correspondence they engaged in almost daily. She spritzed the paper lightly with the perfume she had been given for her birthday before folding the letter and securing it to Mandu's back.

"Thank you," she smiled at the dark feathered messenger. "Safe travels."

The bird nodded to her, too smart to crow loudly in the dead of night. He took off again, flying into the bright moonlight outside. Thena closed her glass doors with a sigh, feeling as if she'd been caught in the midst of something scandalous.

She looked over at Theseus, still asleep under his heat lamp, much to her relief. No, it was her business alone what she was doing, or reading. That book could wait though. If need be, she would return it to mother the very next morning to avoid suspicion. She could say she left it in the sunroom and feared the cover would fade in the light.

She had to finish Gil's book first. If she finished it, her message would not be a lie anymore. And then she could feel at least a little less guilty about the events of this night.

How she would look him in the eye when she did see him next was another matter entirely.

[mrs-hollandstan]

Make Me Love You || Frat Boy!Tom [epilogue]

Warnings: sexual comments, pregnancy and children, marriage and weddings, just cuteness, mentions of IVF, mentions of parental issues, language, mentions of marital issues, mentions of fuckboy!Tommo

Word Count: 7,996

Author's Note: Thank you, thank you, thank you, for those that have stuck with me through all of this. It's been a journey and I'm so grateful for those that stayed for the whole thing. This series has been such an important part of my life and writing and I don't know how I'll function without it, but I'm grateful to have finished it and gotten it out there for others to enjoy. 💖

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                                          Welcome to Our Forever

                                               Thomas & Y/F/N 

                                                August 5, 2023 

White roses and eucalyptus line the wooden board announcing your wedding to the man of your dreams. Maybe not the best decision to have a summer wedding, but Harrison and Ivey had only wed some three months before, and you refused to take away her shine. As it was, when she sat beside you in her auburn colored dress to have her hair and makeup done, she was glowing, reminiscing on her big day with a brand new wedding band to go with her engagement/wedding ring, and a new ID showcasing the Ivey Eleanor Osterfield namesake. 

It wasn't necessarily the first time you four girls had been together since graduation, but the time that you spent together had dwindled since going out into the real world. Phoebe was making bank as an emergency room nurse at UW Emergency just off campus and she and Keaton had started living together in University District. Cole had moved Scarlett into his apartment once Keaton had moved out and she's been working as a financial analyst the past two years. He'd mentioned proposing to her, but hadn't officially done so yet. Ivey and Harrison were living in an apartment not far from you and Tom, Harrison working at the Seattle Art Museum, and not too far from him, Ivey was working as an editor in downtown Seattle. Still, after two years, the four of you were meeting up for date night often, you and Ivey mostly discussing wedding plans and crazy stories from your day, while the boys talked sports and alcohol. 

Since graduation, you and Tom had adopted a little gray pitbull from a local shelter, similar to Tessa, whom you named Rosir. With the help of your dad and the first few paychecks from your therapy office, you were able to purchase a car, a Subaru Crosstrek, which you and Tom used for weekend getaways and vacations. He'd even taken the time to revisit the same house he and the group stayed in in Oregon two springs ago with you. 

"You remember how you told me you wanted something like Ivey and Harrison that night shit went to hell?" He had asked you as you lay in bed one night, bare chests pressed together and Rosie laying just off to your side on the floor, squeaking her toy. You had hummed and nodded, leaning on his chest, 

"I regret that." 

"Don't say that. I just hope that it's been better than what they have. I've tried to make you happy." You smiled up at him and nodded, 

"I've never been happier than I am now." You had reassured him. He'd smiled and leaned in to kiss you. You'd discussed the shitshow that was the last two years of your relationship and how now, you couldn't see being with anyone else and you were convinced that your kids wouldn't have what you did, with a fractured family. Most of Tom's wounds had healed and he was focused on you, his career path, and your future. You were putting everything that had happened in the past behind you for the better now, focusing on your wedding, your marriage, the future. 

"You nervous?" Phoebe asks as an artist drags a brush with eyeshadow across her lids. You shrug as you're drawn from your haze, 

"Less nervous about marrying him than I am about graduation." You admit. She smiles, 

"I'm in love with you two. He's fucking lucky to have you." She murmurs, closing her eyes again. Ivey sighs, 

"I think you've beaten me out at being the most gorgeous on your wedding day." 

"No, don't say that. You were absolutely stunning." 

"Yeah, but are you seeing yourself? Tom is going to lose his shit." She explains. You smile, staring at yourself in the mirror as your makeup artist brushes blush along your cheeks. You giggle, 

"Okay, fine, I do look hot." You murmur. The three of you laugh along before Scarlett sighs and moves into the room, 

"Your dad and Cole are fighting again." You roll your eyes, 

"I almost just wish they hadn't tried to reconcile." You tell her. She smiles, 

"I mean... at least they're trying for you and all of our future kids." She reasons. You sigh, 

"Yeah, I guess." She sits behind the three of you, waiting until you're all finished before she helps you slide into the a-line dress you'd chosen, the girls gasping, 

"Oh Y/N, you look gorgeous." Ivey says. Phoebe and Scarlett agree and when Nikki enters the room, she gasps and covers her mouth, tears springing into her eyes, 

"Oh Y/N darling..." She mumbles. You smile, taking her hands when she approaches, 

"Do you think he'll like it?" You ask her about her son. She nods, sniffling softly, 

"Oh I think you could wear a burlap bag and he'd think you were exquisite, but this..." She nods, "he'll absolutely love you in this." She assures. You smile, 

"Great. You look amazing yourself." You tell her, looking her over in her maroon colored mother-in-law dress, 

"Well thank you sweetheart." She murmurs, a dusting of red coating her cheeks. She clears her throat, 

"I uhm, I have something for you." She says. It's only then that you notice the worn black box in her hands. You follow her to the small couch, sitting just beside her before she opens the box and reveals an old pearl necklace, "My grandmother got this as a gift and it's been passed down through our family. My mother wore it on her wedding day, I wore it on my wedding day. If you'd like... I want you to have it, wear it today and any day in the future as my first daughter-in-law." She tells you. You stare at it, mouth agape, 

"Oh gosh... Nikki... are you sure?" She nods immediately, 

"Of course. They're to be passed down. Hopefully you get a daughter to do the same to and the tradition can continue in our family." She tells you. You dab at your eyes with a tissue, 

"Thank you so much. It's beautiful." You tell her, moving forward to hug her. She hugs you back, kissing your cheek softly. She helps you latch it around your neck and by then, the girls are completely ready, 

"It's time Y/N/N." Ivey tells you with a cock of her head. You take a deep breath, 

"Gosh... really?" She shoots you a sympathetic smile and nods, 

"Fortunately." She tells you. You allow Nikki to fasten your veil into your hair and hand you your bouquet, the girls each collecting theirs before you stand before the full length mirror, staring at yourself. You take a deep breath, 

"The next time I step foot into this room, I will be Mrs. Tom Holland." You murmur more to yourself more than anyone. You watch Ivey smile in the mirror before you turn to them and nod, 

"Okay, I think I'm ready." You tell them. They each nod before leading you from the room, walking the short distance to where the boys are waiting at the end of the hall. Tom had more groomsmen than you had bridesmaids, but you didn't really care. Three of his seven groomsmen were walking alone, his brothers leading the pack down the aisle together. You honestly thought it was cute. Cole maneuvered his way over to you to kiss your cheek as your father appeared, 

"You look beautiful." He tells you. You smile, glancing up at your dad, 

"Thanks Cole." 

"You know mom would be more than proud of you." He reminds you. You nod, indicating to the veil, 

"And she's with me." When your dad had offered up the diamond encrusted lacy material your mother had bought for her own special day, you sobbed and agreed without a second thought. It was such a simple yet meaningful gesture, especially coming from your dad and you haven't thought twice about it since. Cole's eyes are glistening as he nods and Scarlett slips her hand in his bicep. 

Sam, Harry, and Paddy are the first down the aisle together, Tom's smile wide when he sees them. Ivey and Harrison are the first couple down the aisle with her as your matron of honor. Scarlett and Cole are next with her being your maid of honor, but you told Phoebe she was also your maid of honor. You weren't letting her feel left out in this situation. Gil was last down the aisle, helping your flower girl and ring bearer, both younger cousins of yours, down to their respective sides. You take a deep breath as you watch Tom stand at the head of the aisle, nervously swaying side to side, hands clasped in front of him. Your father flexes his bicep to imitate a squeeze, 

"Don't pass out on me. At least let me get you to him." He jokes. You smile, 

"Course not. But... this is the last time your little girl will be a Y/L/N." You tell him. He hums, glancing down at you when you look up, 

"You'll always be a Y/L/N, but I'm okay with you being a Holland. Tom is a good man." He reminds you. You smile and nod, 

"I agree." You murmur before "Canon In D" starts, giving you your cue. You take another deep breath before your father starts the walk, and all of your guests stand. Your dad reaches out and pats your hand as you walk out into the sunlight, your videographer (thank you dad) crouching beside your fiancè to capture his reaction which is quite honestly, the sweetest, most heart touching thing you've ever seen. He reaches up to brush his tears away, pivoting from foot to foot quicker as he takes a deep breath and blinks away the flood of tears that threaten to spill. You smile up at him, walking steadily with your father until you're standing just before him. He takes a deep breath as your minister asks who gives you away. Your father replies and hands you to Tom who helps you onto the small pedestal across from him. He sniffles softly, staring down at you with so much love in his eyes. 

The ceremony progresses quickly and before you know it, you're announced as Mrs. Tom Holland. Tom smiles wide before he's wrapping an arm around your waist, the other curled up your back as he dips you, sealing your deal with a final kiss. You hold him to you, staring up into his eyes when he stands you straight before he pivots on his feet, smile as wide as it can get as you're announced as husband and wife. He gives your hand a squeeze and waves it in the air as your guests cheer and clap. 

You scurry off, holding onto Tom as he kisses you over and over again and continuously tells you how beautiful you look while your wedding party makes their way back down the aisle, your bridesmaids and his groomsmen all crowding around you with congratulations thrown your way. You flaunt the ring, and before the guests pour from your venue and towards the large brick building for the reception, Tom's family and your dad and Heidi follow your wedding party to the designated picture area. 

The pictures, you can tell, are going to be absolutely gorgeous. Harry and Nikki were both more than happy to be the wedding photographers, and absolutely denied being paid for the work. But you'd seen sneak peeks of some of the shots they'd snapped of your wedding party and you were in love. You'd finally sobbed, and Tom had let you when Nikki flashed you a photo of yours and Tom's foreheads pressed together, his hand brushing along your cheek, wedding band shown off blatantly. It hadn't hit you, how serious getting married was and now it was. 

You'd been the last to depart the area where your professional photos were taken, Nikki and Harry leaving you for a private moment to yourselves, the first in nearly two days since the boys stole him and the girls had stolen you. You'd stood in silence for a moment, admiring the scenery of the woods around you before he'd untucked a hand from his pocket and reached out for yours. You'd threaded your fingers together, 

"Has this been the wedding of your dreams so far?" He asks softly. You smile, nodding, 

"Since I was a little girl I dreamed of marrying a prince. Now I have him, and this," You gesture around you, "This is more than I could ever ask for. It's been beautiful so far and merging our families has been a dream." You tell him, taking a step closer to him. His smile widens, 

"Good." He murmurs. Standing on your toes, you lean in and kiss him. He hums, 

"Can't believe I married the girl of my dreams." He murmurs. You giggle, 

"It is all very surreal. All of the times we talked about marriage and kids and now we're here, doing it." 

"Hell yeah, I don't fuck around." He jokes. You roll your eyes, 

"But... now that we have a moment... what do you think of the dress? Your mom said I could wear a bag and you'd still think I look stunning." 

"Oh definitely, but... yes... this is absolutely gorgeous. You look stunning darling. More so than ever." He tells you, holding you at arms length to look you over. You twirl for him, the bodice of your dress flourishing around you and Tom smiles, 

"So beautiful." Dragging you back in, he leans in to kiss you, arms bound around your waist, your hands rested on his shoulders, smoothing down them. He hums, 

"We should sneak off and have married sex now." You giggle, tipping your head back which draws him in to trailing kisses down your throat, 

"Yeah, I'd like to see you try and do a quickie in this dress. You'll get lost in it." You tell him. He chuckles, 

"I believe you. You've got a lot of tulle goin on here." Nodding, your rest your hands atop his shoulders, staring up at him, 

"You've made me so happy the past four years... I can't wait to spend the rest of my life with you." You tell him. He smiles, 

"The feeling is so fucking mutual." He tells you, hands curled around your back. He presses his forehead to yours and sighs, 

"I promise to make you happy every day of my life. You mean the world to me." He tells you. You sway him softly, holding his waist, 

"I promise to do the same." 

"And after tonight, we'll go to Fiji and have a good time, just the two of us, and then we'll come back and try for a baby." He starts. You giggle again, 

"You have our whole lives planned out then huh?" You ask. He nods, 

"Definitely. Won't be long now before we're house hunting and moving a sweet little babe in." He murmurs in your ear. You sigh, 

"Is it bad that I kinda wanna stay in the apartment for a little while after having a baby?" You ask. His eyebrows furrow and he shakes his head, 

"No, not really. We... did talk about turning that spare into a nursery for her. We could go through with it." 

"And we're still stuck on them being a her huh? You do know I'll kill you if we have a boy first and you even think about being disappointed." You tell him. He hums, eyebrows knitting together again, 

"No, of course not, I would never. Any baby that comes from you is loved by me darling. You don't have to worry about it." He confirms. You nod, letting the silence permeate between you for a moment before you sigh, 

"We should probably be heading back. No one can do anything without us." You tell him. He chews the inside of his lip for a moment before sighing himself and nodding, 

"Yeah... let's go get a beer." Smiling, you hold your hand out for his again, lacing your fingers with his. He smiles as the prongs of your ring scrape against the pad of his finger and you give a tug of his hand to lead him up the trodden path towards your reception. Once on the concrete, leading up to the building, Tom squeezes your hand, glancing at the sign announcing you as husband and wife, 

"I cannot believe I am Mrs. Thomas Stanley Holland." You say. He chuckles again, 

"Sounds so fucking amazing." He tells you. You smile, 

"It does. I get to change my nameplate at work. Mrs. Y/N Holland. So exciting." He smiles before you round a corner and your wedding party is there, beers in hand and cheering directed your way. Tom waves his hand, cheeks flushing red and chuckles leaving his lips, 

"Stop, stop-" 

"You're a married man now Tommo!" Haz starts, 

"Yeah, what happened to the forever bachelor thing? Who are you and what have you done with our Tom?" Gil jokes. Tom rolls his eyes, 

"A beautiful girl crashed the party and roped my ass in." He admits. You smile and accept a beer from Cole, another handed to Tom, 

"Well congrats. You two make a beautiful couple. And... now you're my brother." He tells Tom, dragging him in for a hug. You smile, watching your husband and brother hug before Cole turns to you, 

"And you look beautiful Y/N/N. Mom is so so so fucking proud of you. I just know it." He tells you again. He leans in and kisses your cheek. Ivey pops up from inside the venue, 

"Alright guys. We're headed inside. Back into formation." You smile, looping your arm through Tom's. You'd chosen to have your DJ announce your wedding party, the group dancing in and once you make your way inside, it leads into your first dance. The other Holland boys lead, both sides of the families laughing at their antics. Ivey and Harrison follow, then Scarlett and Cole, and Keaton and Phoebe, finishing with Gil. Tom squeezes your hand in his arm as the DJ speaks again, 

"And now, ladies and gentlemen, the moment you've all been waiting for, I present to you, Mr. and Mrs. Tom Holland!" He cheers, the roaring from your guests loud as Tom escorts you in the door, twirling you and showing you off to your family. Your cheeks hurt from the smile you carry and Tom let's out an airy laugh as you hand your bouquet off to Ivey and he wraps you in his arms, holding your body close as the first notes of your first dance song play through the speakers, all eyes on you. But none of it matters. All that matters are the chocolate colored eyes you know every inch of. The ones you've come to love and the ones you get to stare into for the rest of your life. He's yours, and you're his, and this is what forever feels like. 

                                                          --- 

You giggle and cling to Tom as he carries you across the threshold of your suite. He gently sets you on the bed, watching you lay out beneath him, 

"So stunning." He murmurs. You roll your eyes and sit up a little to pull your veil off, 

"I see the cheesiness hasn't dissipated." 

"Well no. It'll only get worse from here. Instead of taking it as my girlfriend or fiancèe, you're taking it as my wife. Now you for sure aren't going anywhere. It's so much worse." He tells you. You giggle, kicking your heels off. He sighs, raking a hand through his hair, 

"Is it bad if I say I'm glad that part is over?" He asks with a cock of his head. You shake your own head, 

"No... it's stressful. Especially for me when there was so much for me to trip over." You tell him. He hums, 

"You did great. You looked amazing all night and you were such the little party host." 

"I'm the bride, I have to be." He sits on the bed beside you, clearing his throat, 

"Yeah, I guess." Sighing, you roll so your body is pressed into his side. He leans back on the bed on his elbow, loosening his tie, 

"It was a pretty good night. You did good on the planning love." He chides. You smile, 

"Thanks babe. I put my heart, soul, and money into this perfect day." He nods, raising his eyebrows, 

"That's for damn sure." He murmurs. You giggle, 

"I couldn't imagine any other wedding being more perfect than ours. It was really fucking beautiful." 

"To be fair, your dad paid for a lot and my parents contributed too." He reasons with a shrug, staring up at the ceiling when he moves to lay back on the bed fully. You smile, leaning in on his chest. He sighs, 

"I loved every minute of it." 

"That's all that matters. You only get one wedding and it should be perfect." 

"It was. I love you." He smiles and leans up to kiss you, 

"Love you too darling." You sit in silence for a moment before you sit up and take his hand, 

"Unzip me, I have a surprise for you." You tell him. He hums, sliding the zipper down your back and moving to lean on his elbows again as he watches you slip from the wedding dress, revealing a beautiful set of ivory colored lingerie, an intricate piece that draws Tom's eyebrows up again, 

"Well that's one hell of a surprise." 

"I had every intention of wearing blue but this is a wedding night set and I couldn't pass it up." 

"Yeah, no, you'll have all kinds of opportunities to test out different lingerie. Heaven forbid you pass up this opportunity for wedding night lingerie." He murmurs. You smile, stepping from the puddle of tulle, lace, and satin at your feet and leaning in on his knees, 

"So I assume you like it." You coo. He snorts, 

"When have I ever not liked lingerie on this sweet little body?" He asks. You giggle, 

"Never." 

"Exactly." Moving his hands onto your hips, he drags you into his lap, your lips covering his. He hums into the kiss, moving his hands up your back. Your fingers move down to unbutton his shirt. You smooth over his stomach, his hands traveling down to hold onto your hips, 

"Shall we try and figure out what's so different about married sex?" You ask him. He smiles, pulling back to look into your eyes, 

"I think that'd be quite great actually." He murmurs. You smile down at him, 

"Just think... you don't have to worry about getting me pregnant now because we're already married." He chuckles, watching you reach behind you and unclip your bra, tossing it aside. He licks his lips, 

"I'd love to know what these'll look like when you end up pregnant." He murmurs, moving to massage your breasts into his hands. You tip your head back, holding his shoulders. You slide your hands beneath his button up brushing it from his shoulders. He sighs, 

"So perfect." 

"So yours." You murmur. He chuckles, 

"You're damn right." You giggle before he's leaning back, pulling you with him. You lean on the bed over his shoulders, leaning in to kiss him, 

"I love you husband." He smiles wide, 

"I love you, wife. More than you'll ever know." You lean back in to kiss his throat, his hands skirting down to your hips until the cold metal of his wedding ring is pressing into your lower back. 

The next night, after landing in Fiji and checking into your bungalow, Tom slides down into the sand beside you. He sighs, squinting in the setting sun and holding a beer out to you. You take it, thanking him softly and sipping from it. He does the same as you look him over. He looks calm for the first time in months. His hair is flat and he's wearing a tee and a pair of cotton shorts, no shoes on. You smile when he looks at you and his eyebrows furrow, 

"What?" He asks through a laugh. You shake your head, 

"Nothing, I just love you. You look good right now." You move to lay your head over his shoulder. He takes a deep breath, laying his head over yours and reaching out to squeeze your knee, 

"Happy first night of forever." He mumbles. You squeeze his body against yours, 

"So far, so good." You tell him. He hums, 

"Can't go wrong with me." Giggling, you sip from your beer again, leaning your arm on his knee, 

"I will admit, seeing "Mr. and Mrs. Holland" on the door was a really surreal thing for me." You tell him. He smiles, moving his hand up into the light to look at the ring on his finger, 

"I've always been called Mr. Holland in a professional sense but... hearing Mrs. Holland and knowing that it's in reference to my wife and that you're finally, fully mine is like... insane." He admits in return. You nod, 

"I agree." You murmur. Nudging the neckline of his top down, you brush a finger across the hickey you'd left the night before. He smiles, 

"The markings of a spoiled little wife." 

"I really don't think I'll ever be over the whole wife thing. Like... hearing you say it blows my mind. I definitely thought I'd be your girlfriend for the rest of my life and you'd never be ready to marry me." 

"I was ready to marry you the second you came back from New York after Spring Break." 

"Liar." 

"I did. I never wanted to let you go again. I had fucked up and never wanted to risk losing you again." He explains. You smile, looping your arms under his and leaning your head on his shoulder, 

"That's truly adorable. You've still had your moments but... I have no doubt that all the growth you've done since that whole mess has helped you. Really." He nods, 

"I feel a lot better, that's for sure." He tells you, sighing. You hum, 

"I'm glad. You know... we both have to be in a good mindset to have a baby." 

"Speaking of, you are okay with having a baby like... soonish right?" He asks. You shrug, 

"Yeah, sure, why not?" 

"I just obviously wanna make sure you're comfortable and we're on the same page." He tells you as you move to lounge between his legs. You scoff, 

"Bitch I just married you. There isn't a thing you could do to make me uncomfortable. We're one now." He chuckles, laying his hands over your stomach, 

"But you would tell me if something is out of your comfort zone right?" He asks. You nod, eyebrows knitting together, 

"Course." 

"Good." Leaning your head back against his chest, you sigh, closing your eyes. He presses his lips to your temple and leaves them there, breathing you in. The setting sun provides a nice warmth, 

"I say we just never go back to America. We just run away and become permanent travelers." Tom chuckles, 

"And abandon my very expensive diploma, I think that's a dumb idea love." He tells you. You hum, 

"You could very well get a big break in Europe without the degree." You reason. He hums, 

"That'd be great to take you back to my home." 

"Well since we'll be traveling, you very well could give me a better tour of your little hometown." You confirm. He nods, 

"That sounds really good." A silence settles over you, the sound of the waves crashing being the only noise around. He reaches up and rubs over your shoulders, 

"I'm glad we're here." 

"Me too." You tell him quickly. He smiles, 

"I'm really glad you agreed to marry me." He says. You giggle, 

"Me too." His smile widens. He leans in and kisses you softly when you rise to your knees and turn to face him, 

"I think we should revisit the newlywed sex." He implies with a raise of his eyebrow. You hum, 

"Me too. Definitely." He chuckles softly before he's standing and taking your hands, leading you back through the sand to your bungalow, pushing you on the bed softly once he slides the door closed. 

                                                          --- 

                                           *Seven Years Later*

"Mia darling, please don't do that." Tom calls to your oldest child, hoisting Harper, your current youngest into his lap with her holding his fingers and climbing his chair. He focuses on the two year old, her hair falling down her back and her legs tangled up in her dress. He rubs her back once she snuggles into him, kissing her forehead. 

Not long after your wedding, you were pregnant with Mia. The second Tom found out she was a girl, he couldn't drop the smile, convinced that the talk of having a girl first all throughout college was just divine intervention. Seeing your husband as a father that first time was unlike anything else. He couldn't put his baby girl down. You were his girl, and he followed you around like a lost puppy, but the second you gave birth to little Mia Faye, he was hooked. And the process continued with your first son three years later, Wyatt James was held in Mia's lap, who was always in Tom's lap. And then again with his second baby girl, Harper Monroe. And now here you are, pregnant with your final baby, another sweet boy who Tom talks to daily, first thing in the morning before he wakes your three older kiddos to bring to bed and see you and at night, right before you go to bed, wishing your little wiggly bean goodnight. He already has a name, Oliver Ethan, and you're excited to have a complete family, four kids to grow up together and travel with, something you and Tom have loved doing since being out of college. 

Cole sighs as he sits beside Keaton who holds his and Phoebe's daughter, Emma's tiny purse, glancing up at his ex-roommate, 

"'S the matter? Being the father of the birthday boy is tiring?" He teases. Cole rolls his eyes, 

"Not only that, but when his papa decides it's time to spoil him and he wonders why mommy and daddy don't do the same, it can get interesting." Cole explains. You smile, rubbing the baby bump over your dress. Tom watches you, 

"I'm just glad that he has a papa. You and dad have gotten along pretty well since he's moved out here." You tell him, reaching up to stroke through Tom's hair to soothe you both. Cole crosses his arms watching his daughter, Daisy, follow Scarlett around, Logan and Ashton, Ivey and Harrison's older boys by her side like they always are when the group is together, 

"I guess so, yeah, it's been... weird. He avoids bringing up mom which makes it awkward but... he's a good enough grandfather. The kids like him and if Scarlett needs help and I'm not available, he's been there." He explains. You nod, leaning into Tom's side. Harper twirls your hair around her finger sleepily, Tom leaning in to kiss her pudgy cheek, 

"Regardless, you guys are talking and actually acting like father and son. Now we have like an actual family again." He nods, 

"Yeah..." Keaton yawns, 

"And what about you Ke? Now that dad's back here and starting that branch of his company here and you're working for him again, how's it been?" He glances up as Phoebe slides into the chair beside him, 

"Yeah, it's good. Back to better payment, being the assistant. It's pretty nice." 

"And no such luck with the baby making?" You ask. He smiles, looking to Phoebe, 

"We're getting there. It's been a hard process but... IVF has been going pretty well." 

"I'm trying to calm the fuck down." Phoebe starts, dragging her fingers through her hair, "I know that going through all of this, the IVF'll fail and then I'll get pregnant naturally." She says with a roll of her eyes. Keaton smiles, 

"The embryo we transfer next month is a girl. Our little Sophia so... hopefully. Fingers crossed." He says. You smile and nod, 

"All our fingers are crossed." You tell them. Keaton smiles, glancing up as Wyatt runs up to you, 

"Mommy..." 

"Yes my love?" You ask of him as he leans in on your legs, 

"Can I go with Mason to his room to see his toys?" He asks you. You brush his hair from his eyes, 

"Did you ask Auntie Scarlett or Uncle Cole if you could?" You ask him. He glances around, 

"Mason asked auntie." 

"If she tells him yes, you can go with him but- hey, Wyatt... but if you go in his room, you need to be careful and don't do anything bad okay? Pick up after yourself like we tell you to do at home." You tell him. He nods before running off to find his cousin. Tom is smiling when you look to him again, 

"What?" You ask. He shakes his head, 

"You're just a really great mum is all." He mumbles, helping Harper slide from his lap again, "Where are you headed love?" He asks, but she ignores him and runs off towards the jumper. You giggle at the pout on his lips, glancing up when Ivey sighs behind you. Her and Harrison slide in between you and Keaton and Phoebe, the little green blanket she left with half an hour ago to quiet the crying cradled in her arms again, 

"He okay?" You ask. She nods and rolls her eyes, 

"He's had a little bit of colic so... he's just cranky but... he's fed and asleep. He should be good for a little while now. Logan and Ashton been good?" 

"Yup, only pulled Daisy's pigtails once." You joke. She huffs, 

"I believe you. Ashton, if you don't tend to him in time, pulls your hair to get up on your chair or whatever he wants. I swear... sometimes if Harrison doesn't collect them while I'm feeding or something, he's sleeping on the couch." Harrison snorts, 

"Yeah, we've had to take up stock in ice cream to keep the boys away from mum." He murmurs. You giggle, watching Ivey roll her eyes before she reaches an arm out and rubs over your belly, 

"How's this little one? You're about in your eighth month huh?" She poses. You nod, pressing a hand to the base of your belly, 

"Yeah... he's doing good. He was super rambunctious last night. We were up all night last night watching him swim and kick. He's gonna be our biggest baby I think." You tell her. You carry a huge smile and taking a glance at Tom, you see he does too. He's so proud of this family you've created. He loves you and all three, almost four kids you have, 

"And Rosie is back to being her protective little self with new little man?" Harrison asks. You nod, 

"Soooooo much. She's normally with the kids but if I sit down, she's right in my lap, head laid over the bump." You tell him. He smiles, 

"She's been pretty great eh?" 

"Oh and her and Tessa get along so damn well when my parents bring Tess down." Tom pitches in. You smile, 

"They've both been great. We were blessed in a lot of ways." 

"That is so good. She's been such a great girl for you." 

"She really has, and Y/N never had animals growing up so she's been a great little companion for Y/N's first time." Tom explains. Ivey nods, glancing up at you, 

"And she's grown up with the kids technically." You pose. Ivey smiles, 

"That Christmas card... so damn cute. You guys with the matching kids and Rose. I can't believe how tall Wyatt is getting. I bet he'll be taller than Tom before we know it." She winks as Tom rolls his eyes, 

"Ha ha. Very funny." She smiles, 

"You know I'm kidding. He's so cute though. All those freckles. He looks just like you Tommy." 

"Well he's lucky then." Your husband murmurs, smiling when you swat at him. He leans over and kisses your cheek, 

"He's hooked on his mumma though. Doesn't ask me for shit. Goes straight to her." 

"Well you've got two baby girls that go to you. So... I'll keep him." You defend. Tom chuckles 

"Who is that? Is that Auntie Y/N/N?" You glance up just in time to see a tan little boy move into your line of sight, giggling. You smile up at him, 

"My little Hunter!" Gil chuckles as you take his little boy, laying him in your lap to tickle him. Tom laughs along as the little boy squeals and Gil leans in to kiss your cheek and then Ivey's, 

"Bout time you showed." 

"Mmm, Minah kept changing his outfit." He mumbles. You hug Hunter into you, smiling as Tom ruffles his hair, 

"Why didn't she come?" Harrison asks. Gil rolls his eyes, 

"Uhm, her mom's in town. But... I don't think she would've come anyways." He tells him. Ivey cocks her head sympathetically, 

"Still having problems?" 

"Yes, and she wants another baby like that'll magically save our relationship." He remarks. You smile up at him, 

"Well I dunno about you but I think this little one is great." You tease, tickling Hunter again. Gil's smile returns when Hunter giggles, 

"He's the only thing that keeps me sane." He tells you. Tom nods, 

"That's how it works." Reaching out again, Tom brushes long strands of hair from Hunter's eyes, 

"I think Wyatt and Mason went to Mason's room. You wanna go see?" You ask him. He nods, squirming from your arms and running off. Scarlett catches him in the doorway, standing on her toes and pressing a hand to his head. She smiles before walking to the table you all sit at, 

"Are we having fun? I see there's only one kiddo here right now. Hi sweet boy." 

"He's not so sweet right now." Ivey mumbles as Scarlett leans over her shoulder and coos into the blanket in her lap. Surprisingly, the little one smiles a toothless smile up at his aunt, the smile growing wider when she reaches down and pokes his nose, 

"Not feelin good baby?" Ivey shakes her head, 

"Colic still." 

"The gripe water didn't work?" Scarlett asks, 

"Very briefly." Ivey confirms. Scarlett clicks her tongue, 

"Damn. Poor thing." Ivey nods, rocking the bundle. When both girls look up, they find you smiling at them. Ivey giggles, 

"What?" You shake your head, blinking tears away, 

"Nothing... just wondering how we got here. What happened to the girls I was introduced to eleven or so years ago? We were so young and carefree and look at us now. We're all moms. We're all wives and killing it all." Tom hums, reaching out to brush the stray tear that falls away. Ivey clicks her tongue, blinking rapidly, 

"Oh babes. You pregnant and me coming down from postpartum doesn't help this shit." She moves in, laying her head over your shoulder. Scarlett whines before she's brushing Tom aside and wrapping her arms around you and Ivey. Phoebe's heeled boots click as she rushes in to join the group hug, Owen, in Ivey's arms cooing up at her too. She smiles, 

"I know I was quite the party girl but... these little ones are the best things we could ever do. Ten... almost eleven, twelve when I get a clear head, these are our greatest accomplishments." She tells the three of you. You nod, pressing her hand over your belly, 

"Definitely." Your baby boy kicks out against her hand in agreement, making the four of you giggle. Tom smiles too, watching you and the girls hug before you part and you take his hand, squeezing and pressing it to your belly. He hums as he rubs the bump, 

"He's gonna be a rambunctious little thing. Reckon we'll be exhausted after chasing just him around." He says, scooting closer to you. You smile, reaching up to drape your arm over the back of his chair, trailing up his back, 

"Well you're the one that had the years of experience of chasing girls around so I think you're suited for the job daddy." His smile widens, 

"Please never mention that in front of the kids. I don't need my little girls knowing and my little boys thinking it's okay that their dad was a womanizer in this very gender equalizing, accepting time." He murmurs. Leaning into him, you kiss his cheek, 

"I promise not to." 

"Thank you." Scarlett, who had previously walked away, starts back towards you, wide smile on her face, 

"I have another tiny slice of cake. I know you and baby boy want it Y/N." You gasp, holding your hands out, 

"Oh my God yes, you're a lifesaver!" You squeal. Tom watches, chuckling softly as you snatch the thin slice of chocolate cake with vanilla buttercream frosting from your sister-in-law. You offer some to him, but he shakes his head. He glances up at the bouncy house, clearing his throat after a moment, 

"Uh oh. The sugar monster's coming. You made a grave mistake accepting cake behind her back like that." You glance up, watching Harper trot towards you, climbing back into her father's lap. He holds her steady moving his legs closer to you to allow her to chomp the piece of cake from your fork. He tucks hair behind her ear, 

"That's good huh lovey? You are never getting to bed tonight little one." You giggle, watching a sparkle flash through Harper's vibrant brown eyes, 

"But with her daddy's puppy dog eyes, no one can resist her." You reason. He nods and leans in to kiss her cheek, 

"Well that's for sure." He murmurs. Once you've finished the cake, Tom holds Harper close, the little one allowing her daddy to love on her. He glances at you and raises an eyebrow and you know exactly what he's asking. The second she saw the cookies upon entrance, it's all she was stuck on for a while. She's such a daddy's girl because he spoils her and you just know he's asking if he can give her a cookie because she's been so good with no tantrums. You chew the inside of your lip, 

"Just one." 

"That's all I'm asking for anyways." He confirms. You nod, 

"Fine then. Nothing more though." He nods, pulling her from his shoulder, 

"Harp, I have a surprise for you, you wanna know what it is?" He asks her. She nods, standing on his thighs, holding onto his hands. He smiles, "You want a cookie? I know you wanted one earlier." Her eyes light up and she nods, bouncing on his legs gently. He chuckles, 

"Alright sweet girl, let's get you one then, yeah?" She nods again, clinging to him as he stands and your heart flutters. To believe that the same man that fought you on a relationship and constantly pushed you away, is now holding your two year old daughter to his hip at a kid's birthday party is beyond imagination, and it is the most beautiful thing ever. 

                                                         --- 

You smile as Tom grabs your wrist, pulling you flush to his body, 

"I know you're exhausted love, and I'll go get you some ice cream after the kids are in bed but... I missed seeing you with all of our friends. You looked stunning all glowing and pregnant out there." He tells you, pressing a hand to your belly. You smile, reaching up to stroke his cheek, 

"You're the sweetest." His smile widens before he leans down to kiss you, 

"I've spent a long ass time loving you and it's not going anywhere anytime soon. Especially when you're pregnant with my baby. You and those three... almost four in there, I'd kill for." He reminds you. You sigh, 

"I really lucked out in the husband department then huh?" You ask. He chuckles softly, 

"Guess so, yeah." Popping open the passenger side door, Tom waits until you climb inside to close you in. He climbs in beside you quickly, turning the car on before Mia speaks up, 

"Daddy?" 

"Yes love?" He asks, turning in his seat to face her, 

"Can we listen to Frozen?" 

"No," Wyatt speaks up, "put on Cars." 

"How about we meet in the middle and settle for some Brother Bear or... Lion King?" Tom poses, settling the argument your kids'll inevitably have. And it works. Tom finds the soundtrack for Brother Bear in his phone, quickly shuffling it and stuffing the device in the cup holder. His Spotify has slowly become Disney movie playlists since he's become a dad and he loves every second of it. Harper swings her feet, staring out her window as she hums along to a song, Tom watching her in the rear view mirror with a smile plastered on his lips. You reach up and stroke over the back of his neck, leaning over to kiss his cheek, 

"You are so perfect Tom Holland." You tell him. He draws his eyes off the road for just a moment to look at you, 

"Well that makes two of us Y/N Holland." He says, taking your hand in his and kissing your knuckles. Squeezing his fingers in yours, you sigh and twist in your seat to look at your babies. 

Wyatt resembles his daddy the most. He has the same signature curls and eyes and you can already see he's starting to inherit the same nose Sam has and those Holland freckles have emerged. He's definitely a little mama's boy and with the way the girls favor Tom, you hope Oliver will follow in his big brother's footsteps. Mia has Tom's eyes too, but her features resemble you a little bit more. She has your hair type and color, and your nose and eye shape. Tom loves that about her. Harper has more of your features as well, but she's a near perfect combination of the both of you, a gorgeous little girl that Tom coddles the most because she'll let him. He's been in love with all of your babies since the day they were conceived, the most amazing father and husband, getting up at ungodly hours to let you sleep in and him take care of the kids. He's always been an early riser because of golf and now, being a dad, he has the skill to master it like he was never sure he'd be able to. His true calling in life, the cure for his anxiety, has been you and his babies. 

Dragging his hand back up to your lips, you kiss it, 

"I love you so much Tom Holland." You whisper. He smiles, taking his eyes off the road for just a second to look at you, 

"And I love you. More than you'll ever know." He replies, dragging your hand up to kiss it. Tears spring into your eyes again as you stare into his eyes and recognize that boy you met nearly eleven years ago, the one that only wanted to be with you sexually and wanted to avoid you emotionally. You recognize the boy that tore apart your relationship again and again, but always chose to get better for you. And now he's the most perfect husband and father. And that's all that matters to you. 

Yes, you were nervous moving to Seattle, starting new, but your friends, Tom, they've made it easier to live. They've changed your life for the better. They’ve given you immense amounts of love and Tom, himself, has given you a love like no other that created four beautiful babies. And you wouldn't change a thing. Moving from Beverly Hills to Seattle, has proved worth it.

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[rahleeyah]

Did somebody ask for Nick Amaro punching Elliot Stabler in the face?

It's nice to be back in New York. He wishes it was under different circumstances - Christ does he wish - but he missed the city. LA isn't the same. Zara's there, and Gil's in San Diego, and they have both grown so much in the last five years and he wouldn't have missed that for anything, but he does wish, sometimes, that they could have stayed at home. In New York. 

He's come to bury his mother and clean out her apartment. Before that gets started, though, he's got some faces he wants to see. He doesn't know for sure if they'll still be there, doesn't know what he'll find, but he knows he has to look, and in his heart he believes that as long as Liv is still alive and in possession of two good legs, she'll be at SVU. That place, it's more than just a job, to her. It's a calling. She's a goddamn crusader. 

For a minute he stands looking up at the station, weighing whether or not he wants to go in. Whether or not he wants to know what's happened to Barba, and Carisi, and Fin, and Rollins. Shit. Rollins. No way is she still there, he thinks. 

He could have called. Should have called. Friends for life, he and Liv had promised each other, and they are, and they will be, but not the kind of friends who call each other and gab on the phone on Saturday afternoons. The kind of friends who'll take a bullet for each other, who'll drop everything and fly to the other side of the country after five years of no contact, if that's what they need. But not Facebook friends. It's just not in their DNA. They're bound by blood now; they don't need a phone call. 

So he takes a deep breath and walks into the station, gets on the elevator behind some asshole in a flashy suit like the kind Barba used to wear, and the guy is talking on his phone but he's pressed the button for SVU so Nick can't escape him, just has to stand there and listen. 

"I'm not asking, I'm telling," the guy says. "why? 'Cause I'm your father, that's why." 

The guy's tone and the words coming out of his mouth remind Nick forcefully of his own father, and that makes him hate this man he doesn't even know. The door slides open and Nick goes to step out but the guy must not have registered he's there; the guy almost steps on him on his way out of the elevator and doesn't even apologize, just hangs up his phone and goes heading towards SVU and Nick is once again following him. His knee never healed right and Nick isn't as quick as he used to be, and the guy gets further and further ahead of him. 

"She here?" The guy calls to a young female detective sitting at one of the desks. The squad room looks completely different, now, and for a second Nick feels like all the breath has just been knocked out of him. The girl says yeah, go on back, and the suit heads for Liv's office. Must be the ADA, Nick thinks. And shit, this is weird. It's like walking into his childhood home and seeing another family living there. It's like finding out there's no such thing as home, really. Like whatever home is, one day you stop belonging there. 

"Help you?" The girl calls to him. 

"Yeah," he says. It's too late to pretend he's not here. There's no sign of Rollins, or Fin, or Liv, but he's gonna do what he came here to do. 

"Is Benson around?"

The girl gives him an appraising look.

"Who's asking?"

Before he can answer, a voice is calling out behind him. 

"Nick?"

He turns, and there she is. Amanda Rollins. Still blonde, still beautiful, and shit, Carisi is standing right beside her. 

"Amanda," he says, and in the next second she's running at him, flinging her arms around him. They hit so hard he could have picked her clean up and spun her around, if it weren't for his bad knee. As it is he nearly goes flying, but he catches himself, and holds on to her tight. He's missed her, more than he wants to admit. 

"Oh, my God," she says as she pulls back. "It's so good to see you. You look good."

"Yeah," he says. "So do you." 

And she does, and he wishes that didn't hurt. 

"Carisi," he says next, and holds his hand out for a shake. Carisi’s hair has gone grey, and his suit is too flash for a cop, but he’s still Carisi, and he bats Nick’s hand away, and pulls him in for a hug.

“If we’d known you were coming we’d have gotten a cake or something,” Carisi says as they part.

“I wasn’t sure you guys would even still be here,” Nick tells them. “Kinda wanted it to be a surprise. Is Liv around?” 

As if in answer to his question the door to the Captain’s office opens behind them, and she comes walking out, with the suit hot on her heels. 

She stops dead in her tracks when she sees him, and shit, he just about stops breathing. That woman; she’s like a sister to him. Better than a sister; he trusts her more than his own blood. A thousand memories flash through his mind. The angry Liv he’d first met, calling him Serpico and looking at him like she was certain he wouldn’t last a week. Remember when you asked me about my father, and I told you it was a long story? It’s not that long. Standing beside her on the porch at the beach house, her clothes ripped and burned, her body bruised, her eyes wild. Liv’s eyes in the rearview mirror, Lewis’s blood sprayed across her face. Liv’s hands on him, while the EMTs wheeled him away after Johnny D shot him. Friends for life, Nick Amaro. 

Her hair is longer, and her face is more lined, but she’s still so goddamn gorgeous. She covers her heart with her hand, and he grins, and they both start to move, then, not running, but walking straight towards each other, determined, no one else in the world but them, in that moment, and the next thing he knows he’s got his arms wrapped around her, and she’s holding him so tight it almost hurts.

“Nick,” she whispers his name shakily, and he laughs, because he can tell she’s about to cry and shit he is, too. 

“Good to see ya, Liv,” he manages to choke out, and when he pulls back she reaches up and touches his face, her dark eyes searching his. She doesn’t have to say it; he knows she’s wondering if he’s ok, and he hopes she finds the answer in his face. Truth is, he’s doing better now than he was five years ago. Better than ten years ago. He’s settled. He’s happy. He hopes she is, too. 

“You gonna introduce me to your friend?”

This from the suit. The sound of his voice shatters the moment, and Liv pulls away, and Nick is thinking he really, really hates this guy. This guy with his easy arrogance, this guy whose voice, whose posture, whose belligerent expression reveals a possessiveness towards Liv that Nick doesn’t like, not one bit. Liv laughs and steps back from him but Nick keeps his hand resting at the small of her back. There’s a petulant part of his heart that wants this guy, whoever he is, to see Nick touching her. To know that he’s allowed to, that she’ll let him, that whatever problem the suit may have Liv cares about Nick. 

“Yeah,” Liv says, and a little bit of Nick’s anger fades, because she sounds happy. 

“This is Nick Amaro, my old partner.” He can hear the grin in her voice. “Nick, this is Elliot Stabler.”

It’s not something he can control. It comes over him so suddenly, so viciously; he always thought that when people talking about seeing red they were just exaggerating. He always thought people had more control over themselves than that. But Liv says that name, and damn if he doesn’t see red.

“Elliot Stabler?” he says. 

“Yeah,” Stabler answers, taking a step forward, and maybe he’s about to ask Nick if he’s got a problem with that, but he never gets the chance.

Stabler. The one who left her. The one who was the reason she was so standoffish, with Nick. The reason she was so angry all the damn time, walking around nursing a broken heart and letting it get her into trouble. The one with the anger issues and the dinged up service record that nearly derailed her whole career. The one with the wife at home, while Liv was half in love with him - Nick isn’t supposed to know that part, but he does. And anybody who could do that to Liv, who could hurt her so bad, treat her like she was second class, disposable, anybody who could stand there and act like he had a right to be by her side after all the shit he put her through, anybody like that, they’re gonna get what’s coming to them, courtesy of Nick Amaro. It’s been ten years since Stabler walked out on her, but however he came back, whatever the reason is for him standing here right now, Nick doesn’t give a single shit. He knows Liv and he knows she would never tell this guy just how bad he hurt her, just how much she lost when he left, knows she’s got a good heart and she’ll forgive the people she loves. She won’t hold this asshole accountable.

Nick, on the other hand, has no qualms about it. 

“Ok,” Nick says, and then before anyone can so much as take a breath, he hauls off and punches that smug son of a bitch right in the mouth, as hard as he can. And shit, but it feels good. 

[arrivisting]

I’d love author commentary on basically the whole scene at Ekkaia in all my war is done (or any individual part of that scene, if your prefer). Taken together, it’s one of the most beautiful and emotionally complex and heartrending things you’ve written, from the description of the sea itself, to the difficulties of Fingon and Alqualondë, to Gil and the ocean and his ‘mother’, to Fingon and Gil beginning to tackle the thorny subect of Maedhros.

I should admit something about all my war is done: it's the most fugue-like my writing has ever been. I jotted down a few notes on my commute into work - I was deeply underwater with my PhD at the time, three months away from submitting - and then the idea of writing a sequel to scion seized me so profoundly that I sat down in the Starbucks where my bus stops, took out my laptop, and wrote instead of just collecting my coffee and walking down to my office. I wrote 15k. In one day. In about five or six hours. I've never achieved anything like that before or since - I do have good days where I can knock 2-4k out easily, but not 15k. (You might note that the posted part of all my war is done is only 12k, but I wrote all the way up into the next bit with Fingon in Tirion that you've read, up until Turgon at the dinner table). I didn't sit down or plan events; I didn't actually know much about what would happen: but I knew they were going to Ekkaia and they'd have some kind of resolution there. These are my phone-notes, from that morning:

You can see, I think, something of the way an idea hits me. I note down a few snatches of plot, not necessarily in any order, some lines I think people should say at some point, although I might not use them, sketch out some things (Formenos's ruins were going to feature more heavily, but they're waiting for a later story).

(It makes me laugh, the words my phone doesn't accept - Gil-galad, for one - and the ones it automatically capitalises from where I've yelled enthusiastically about elf things at people. I never stop long enough to correct spelling etc when I'm trying to get something down).

I clearly knew from inception that I wanted Fingon's place to be called the hill of waiting, and had tried out the name in Sindarin; because my verbs are not good, I came up with Amon Dartha. It was when I was redrafting that I realised Amon Darthir had existed actually in Dor-lomin(!!!) and the name was even more perfect symbolically than I'd meant it to be! Did I know that, unconsciously? I don't know.

You can see, too, that the Sea of Ekkaia was almost the very first point to hit me, and that I knew it and the scene there would be important, and that I knew that the story was about Fingon finding a way to tell Gil-galad that he had been loved, and wanted, and that meant talking about Maedhros; and that at the end I wanted Gil-galad to be gently, impersonally, firmly clear that he would not, could not, be staying to wait with Fingon.

Okay, DVD commentary proper - I'm sorry, I remember awfully little about writing this, given the fugue state and my thesis and everything, so I'm not sure how useful this will be!

“Oh,” said Gil-galad when they broke out of the woods and began to ride down over the dune-lands to the rocky shore. “Oh!”

The Sea of Ekkaia was beautiful, in its own way, but that way that was like no other place in Arda, in either Aman or Middle Earth.

It was a dark-blue that was almost black, even in the late afternoon, and the shore was less sand than gravel, a strange inconsistent rubble of rock and broken sea-shells that had been dashed to pieces by the constant fury of the waves. Staring out to sea, one did not see the far-away horizon the way one did on the gentler coast of Belegaer: there was no gentle faraway blue haze through which one might, perhaps, on a clear day, imagine that Middle Earth could be glimpsed, or at least the Straight Path.

No: instead along the horizon there was a seam of silver light, and then a great blackness, where the Sea of Ekkaia met the Uttermost West that was not quite the Doors of Night, but was certainly the end of Aman itself. If you stood on the shore watching, the seam would ripple with a pulse of light, sometimes green and sometimes white.

It was so far from anywhere the Eldar of Valinor lived. While they clustered around the Belegaer like moths to flame, this shore seemed instead to repel them. Was it the sight of the world’s end itself? It might be; yet Fingon thought there was more to why this wilderness was so little visited, this howling black sea lashing itself against a grey shore. It was beautiful, but not in the way Elves liked things to be beautiful: it was too raw, too unfinished, too savage.

It was too close to where Mandos kept his Halls, which were not only a thing of spirit but also matter, at least in the way that things in Aman were both. Too close to where Nienna’s tower looked out into the Void and where she wept, and wept, and wept. It was too close to death and to rebirth, to judgment and to pity.

There's a little Dawn Treader, I think, in this idea of the uttermost West. I don't know why I thought the seam of the world should pulse with strange light, but it's an uncanny kind of geography, so near Mandos and Nienna, and I like the sense that this is the end of the world, but not the end of the universe.

A lot of this came together serendipitously. I knew some kind of memorialisation of the river that bore Gil-galad needed to be part of his story; that meant going to the sea; and it's clear from the notes that I had already decided that couldn't mean Alqualonde because of kinslaying reasons and memories. (And that that too would need to be confronted). Therefore: roadtrip to Ekkaia. Therefore, the question: what would Ekkaia be like? We don't really know anything about it - only the good qualities of Belegaer. This was really written by a process of inversion, a way of pulling what we know about Belegaer inside-out, and imagining a place at the world's edge, a place that was empty, a place that was uncannily close to difficult things, to Mandos and Nienna; a place that seemed to repel the Eldar as surely as Belegaer drew them like iron filings.

I was thinking visually about New Zealand, too. I spent my childhood summers on the beaches up north, mostly around Tūtūkākā, which are bright and lovely, with golden or white or tawny sand, with gnarled pohutukawa and blue-green water. Like this:

That's what beach and sea meant to me, and it was a shock the first time I went to one of the black sand beaches where the wind howled and the colours weren't blue, green, gold, but iron, grey, navy, black. I loved it, but it felt so other, so passionate, so strange. That shock and that wild beauty and desolation were things I wanted to get at, though Ekkaia would be far more wild and desolate still.

They left the horses in the thin sea-grass, and their shoes, too, and walked down to the water. “I missed it,” Gil-galad said, and closed his eyes, breathing in the brine. “I missed it badly, all the long years besieging Mordor before I died.”

I think Gil-galad would be very marked by his upbringing first in the Falas and then on Balar; you don't lose that, if you grew up by the sea.

The wind took up his long dark hair and made a banner of it as they walked along the rough crescent of rocky ground where the waves met the shore, and around their bare ankles small stones tumbled back and forth in the lace-edge of the water.

When I was young I used to stand in the water and let the waves bury me up to my ankles, watching the water move in, out, spreading skirts of lace overlapping as new waves came in. I could do it for hours. There's something very liminal about the water's edge, between the solid land and the sea, which is why I put this conversation in it, I think. They're in a liminal space and at a liminal moment. It's the scene the whole story has been inexorably building toward, the point where all Fingon's painful scraping-away of his barriers finally reaches his skin.

“Sometimes in Middle Earth it became very difficult to believe in the Valar,” Gil-galad said, his eyes still closed, “in the blood, and the mud, and the filth. There were so many great and small unfairnesses, day upon day, year upon year.” He opened his eyes and looked towards the Uttermost West where the world ended. “And here it is impossible not to. Look at it!"

This is a little more hopeful than the original version, which I don't have anymore, but went pretty much:

"Sometimes in Middle Earth it was very difficult to believe in the Valar,” Gil-galad said. "In the blood, and the mud, and the filth. There were so many great and small unfairnesses, day upon day, year upon year.”

It was a comment more about Gil-galad's rueful scepticism than wonder - because he fought the Dagorlad before he died, because he spent the last ten years of his life in mud and blood and filth and horror. I work on the First World War - its literary legacy and traces in the decades after, more than its immediate experience or actuality, because there was a ten-year period after 1918 where it was more latent than overt, a traumatic lacuna of silence, a Nachträglichkeit- and I thought in the blood, and the mud, and the filth was a little too on the nose.

I kept it, though, because Tolkien was drawing on his own memories of the trenches with the Dagorlad and the Dead Marshes, with those blurred lines of solid land and mud/bog, the living mixed up with the remains of with the dead, all the themes you see again and again in the war poetry and the officer war-books. (Santanu Das is very good on this, as is Eric Leed). Paul Fussell is a bit old-hat now, but his argument that WWI altered the sensibility of its survivors because of their close, consanguinous co-existence with the dead is something I still find valuable. I think there's a lot of WWI survivor in the way I think of Gil-galad, actually, I'm just realising - not that he survived the Last Alliance. He's detached in a different way from Fingon. Fingon's built himself a thick layer of repression/denial, a kind of callous to protect himself from confronting or thinking about what Maedhros did, and what that means for him and to him; Gil-galad is entirely present, but somewhat detached in some ways, the way people who came back from war could be. Not that Fingon and Finrod aren't also separated from the Amanyar by their time in Beleriand and experience of war and death, but Gil-galad lived there for millennia, and he fought a longer, harder, more total kind of war than they did.

But he's at the Sea of Ekkaia, as west as you can get. So much of Tolkien is about that endless longing glance west, that movement: why is this very westernmost edge so under-explored?

I wanted Gil-galad to be softened by this encounter with the sea, so I went back and let his wonder be as much at the spectacle itself as the sea, like the greater hand at work he had sometimes doubted being visible was something wonderful rather than something to be bitter about. I wanted to position him to be potentially open to, perhaps, the Valar; perhaps, to Fingon. I hope he doesn't come off as closed-minded: I think of him as having a fair mind, and good judgment, but - despite placing him here between the sea and the shore - very clear personal lines between what he thinks is just, and what is not. Certainly, it helps a lot, never having known the Feanorians when they had not fallen.

The seam of the universe pulsed with light, and beyond it was – what?

Unutterable nothingness, something worse than death.

Perhaps Maedhros.

This is an important line for Fingon. He hasn't though the name of his own accord for much of the story, flinching away from it; it's only come in when Finrod and then Gil-galad speak the name. This is the first time he's thought it clearly of his own free will, and this is I think the first signal that he's brought Gil-galad here to be as honest and earnest with him as he can be, however much it hurts, or however much it might drive him away. Because if he isn't, and doesn't, Gil-galad will be driven away anyway, and Fingon wants to be connected with him, the first time he's wanted that kind of bond with anyone since he returned.

(I think of Finrod as someone who just kept turning up, regularly, and forcing Fingon to associate with him; and then bringing Amarie; and then his children; and not taking no for an answer. It bothers Turgon rather terribly that they seem to be friends now, when they were never that close Before: that Fingon pushes him away, but allows Finrod to keep pushing; that Finrod does push. He doesn't know about Gil-galad, of course).

He's brought Gil-galad here to show him if possible that he was wanted, to conjure up lost Ringwil where she might be felt if not found; and to do the same for Maedhros. This is a signal that this journey to the sea is as much about Gil-galad's missing father as his missing mother.

The almost-forgotten tang of salt in the air always mingled with the smell of blood in Fingon’s worst memories, and he was not the only one who remembered. The waves were gentle around Gil-galad’s feet, but they boiled furiously around Fingon’s, delivering small spiteful slaps at his calves.

Spiteful was probably the wrong word here. I don't necessarily mean a dramatic boiling or bubbling; but the water is harsh where it touches him, the kind of slapping roughness you get when the tide is coming in rough.

It took Gil-galad longer to mark the difference, engrossed in the joy of the sea and spectacle as he was, and when he did, his face changed. There was something terribly sad in his eyes when he lifted them from the water to look at Fingon.

It wasn’t why he had brought Gil-galad here; but Fingon didn’t want to imagine the look he would receive if he brushed aside the silent question. “No,” he said. “I am not forgiven.”

“So I see.”

They could probably leave it there.

But Fingon won't, because he's trying. He's really trying to connect after all the time flinching away from it, and he's remembering what Gil-galad said about talking, and what Finrod said about mistakes and silences in their first life.

He said, “You said you loathed the thought of being the son of – a murderer. But my own hands have not been clean since Alqualondë, and death didn’t unstain them. All the time you thought I might be your father, you must have known I was a Kinslayer, too.”

I tried to signal this in their earlier tower conversation with Finrod, and Gil-galad's changing of the topic, but I feel like it's a little abrupt here.

“Yes,” Gil-galad said, and his expression didn’t change. “And when the knights that had served you came to me, they told me that you killed that day in ignorance, that you came upon a battle already being fought; that you took up your sword to save those you loved and didn’t question whether it was just. I heard that from others, too, those who had less reason to bend facts to a flattering pattern; survivors of Gondolin and of Nargothrond. I did ask."

“Ignorance wasn’t an excuse. I died ashamed of it, and I live again with the shame.”

"Good!” said Gil-galad, and there was no forgiveness in his voice, even when Fingon jerked his head up in shock. Instead there was the stern ring of a king used to weighing the ideals of justice against the world as it was, the king who had walked arm in arm with Eonwë the Maia, led his people through many full-fledged wars, and held court and meted justice to them for an Age. “That gives me a far better opinion of you than any of the stories did! I’m glad.”

I remember talking to you about this in the comments, about what it meant that Gil-galad wasn't forgiving him. I think I really meant condone, but I also don't think it's Gil-galad's place to absolve Fingon - he wasn't the one wronged! - and that it's important to me that, because Fingon does truly regret it, he doesn't wish to be absolved, to slide away from it. I don't mean he ought to wallow in it or flog himself with it daily, but I think it would be important to him to shoulder and own that guilt rather than ever allowing himself to put it behind him or have someone else tell him it’s quite all right.

I think this is a moment where I show that they're quite similar, too, because even if Fingon wasn't aware that a bracing, clear assessment was just what he wanted, it was what he needed, rather than people being kind (which he's had a lot of, since he returned; and which hasn't touched that central guilt he's hidden from them, that he loved Maedhros, who had done such terrible things. It's prevented him from accepting kindness made him block people reaching out to him. Gil-galad is not being kind, but just, and still reaching out).

It felt like Fingon had been struggling to take a full lungful of air for a long time, and now something constricting in his chest had loosened, as it hadn’t even after the Valar themselves had judged him. It was only now that he realised that he hadn’t wanted Gil-galad to forgive or absolve him. He had wanted – needed – Gil-galad to be better than him, to withhold forgiveness when it was unmerited; and Gil-galad had. He had become the shining legacy they had all hoped he would be, the thing they had all somehow done right.

The water slapped at his ankles again, in impatient reminder.

This is too brief a transition. I should have fleshed the join out more.

“I think Ulmo would come to you here, if you called. You were a king by the sea in Middle Earth, and you may not remember it, but it was a river who gave you life.”

Gil-galad looked at him as if he’d grown an extra head. “What?”

“I brought you here for a reason,” Fingon said. “Where did they go, the drowned and poisoned rivers of Beleriand? I don’t know; but Ulmo might.”

I've really personified the rivers, but I think it's a clear and easy extrapolation from the Withywindle and the River-daughter in The Fellowship of the Ring that I don't need to justify in order to argue that every river might have had its own attendant Maia-spirit. It does make what happened to the Rivers of Beleriand much worse, though, and I wanted to look at the way a character that was a throwaway mechanism in scion ended up being sickened and dying as horribly as Beleriand did; this story was really about following all those lighter bits in scion home, to the end of the line, and looking at the long-term impacts of something that began more lightly. In this verse, Ringwil was a river, but also a person; and I think of her and Finrod as sharing a strange human-river friendship and overlapping enthusiasms.

He clapped Gil-galad on the shoulder, hoping it said all the things he meant it to say. Affection had been so easy for him once, in the life that had been taken from him by the fiery flails of the Balrogs, but now it came hard, and the sea-smell was in his nose, the terrible memories too close to the surface.

He had surely outstayed Ulmo’s tolerance by now. Fingon left Gil-galad there in the water, and didn’t dare glance back until there was thin sandy soil under his feet again.

Only then did he look once more towards the sea.

Gil-galad was standing in the shallows. His broad shoulders were bunched tight, as if he was readying himself for something very difficult, a confrontation with one of the Valar he had long doubted.

Then he spread his arms out, empty-handed, and tipped his head back, and the light on the horizon grew unbearably bright, whiter than white, more silver than silver; and a face began to move upon the water.

I really like this, honestly. Which I can't/don't say often! The temptation to overwrite this was strong, to show this encounter, to describe the Vala: but I think it's often stronger not to show something numinous, to pull away, to let the mind fill it in.

Again, this is Gil-galad as I imagine him: still somewhat distanced from the Valar by the Dagorlad and the things that happened there (and I think perhaps doubly unhappy in that he lived through the end of an Age once before, and that time, at least, the Valar came: they did not come in the Second, nor send so much as a messenger, and such obscenities as the fall of Ost-in-Edhil and the drowning of Numenor had been allowed to happen, and Men and Elves were left alone to come together and break Sauron's grip). Doubting, but not angry; doubting, but still curious. Open to listening.

a face began to move upon the water is of course a deliberate sideways reference to

And the earth was without form, and void; and darkness was upon the face of the deep. And the Spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters.

-

It took a very long time. Fingon could not watch; his eyes dazzled.

Can you tell I was teaching The Duchess of Malfi at this time? Cover her face; mine eyes dazzle; she died young. That sense of a light too bright and white to look upon; that sense of guilt; that faint reference to life lost untimely. This wasn't meant to be a direct intertextual reference, but that net of meaning was there, lightly. Again, I wanted to under-write rather than over-write. I know I have a tendency to over-write.

And of course - there's a sense here that Fingon is refusing the kind of close enoucnter with Ulmo he could/might have. There's water in his eyes. From the wind?

-

“Thank you,” Gil-galad said when he rejoined him at last. His eyes were glowing, and he whistled Ceredir to him from where he was tearing ropey roots of sea-grass from the dunes with great relish. “Thank you for bringing me here;” and he didn’t say it the way he’d thanked Fingon for the horse, or the armour, or the sword, or even the lance.

Because this is a real gift, something that means something to both of them, something more honest/painful. Fingon's been trying to connect through gifts but not serious conversation or sharing, like some estranged parents do, throwing money at the problem rather than giving of their time or their selves, and however well-meant, it hasn't worked.

“I didn’t truly do anything."

“You brought me to the Sea. I know – I could see – how difficult it was for you."

"Well,” Fingon said lamely. He cleared his throat. “What did Lord Ulmo say about – oh, I can’t call her your dam! – the Maia who bore you? Did she – was she there?”

The dam pun is Finrod's. Don't blame me.

A little of the light dimmed, but it didn’t quite fade away. “No, she’s gone. Back to the Timeless Halls, he says; but one with him again, Ulmo, at the same time.” Gil-galad made a noise. “I don’t pretend to understand any of it, all the metaphysical nonsense of the Ainur! But he was kind to me, and he told me something of her – that she delighted in the making of me.” The corner of his mouth turned up. “I left the flowers we gathered earlier in the waves for her and the sea didn’t dash them back onto the shore. I’m sure Ulmo broke a few laws of Arda there.”

I like this image of the flowers suspended in the water. I had it clearly in mind from before I began to write.

"You were wanted.”

“I’m beginning to believe it,” Gil-galad said.

“You should,” Fingon said. He took a breath. Talking is how you sort things out; and a long time ago, Fingon had been known for his valour. Gil-galad deserved to know how much he had been wanted, who had called himself a political compromise given birth. The truth of that had stung.

And it was less than the truth. Fingon could still remember the first time he had opened his mind to Maedhros over the leagues between them and let him see Gil’s small face through his own eyes, holding nothing back. He had shown Maedhros the dark long lashes and the squashed baby nose, the milk-blister on the bow of Gil’s upper lip, the way his whole head turned an alarming red when he wailed; shared with Maedhros Gil’s fondness for being tossed in the air, his splashing joy in his bath.

This is is me trying to describe a baby without being too sentimental about it, because Fingon wasn't all, oh look at the toesie-woesies, or my son, my son: his eye was more detached, and you see him in scion thinking of Gil-galad as it.

I've been thinking about why Fingon in no way allowed himself to consciously dote on the baby, why that streak of denial that's so strong in his second life was there in his first light, and really: it would have been dangerous to let himself love him, to see Gil as his son and Maedhros's. He was born at a time of terrible loss, after the Flame, when they all expected they could die themselves. He was moved around Beleriand like a game-piece. Fingon was always going to lose him: he wasn't going to get to raise him, after all, until and unless Morgoth was defeated. Maedhros wasn't going to meet him, until and unless &c. It was easier not to let oneself get attached than it was to confront those hard facts and let oneself be hurt by them. Easier to think of him as a baby Finwean prince, and that only: a political pawn, not a son.

Conversely, Maedhros maintains a physical distance, but not an emotional one. Here's a bit from Maedhros's perspective:

Finrod had told him that. They had written, back and forth, in the long months as Ringwil’s belly swelled, as the child formed, as it began to move and stretch and turn frog-like inside her. They had corresponded constantly during the first months of the child’s life in Nargothrond, and during the first months of his life, Finrod had sent long scrolls detailing every change in Artanaro’s weight, his length, his hair colour, his eye colour, how much milk he’d consumed each day: screeds winging forth to Himring until the child was old enough to survive the secret trip north.

Fingon’s letters had been infuriatingly spare of useful information while the child was fostered at Barad Eithel. Beloved, ineloquent Fingon: Fingon, who had nevertheless shown him the child as no reams of paper could.

Fingon had given him forever the rounded bloom of his full cheeks, and the pursed mouth, sullen in sleep: the feathery, rather cross-looking eyebrows, and the small hands with their deep dimples and smaller fingernails, curled into the edge of Fingon’s furred mantle.

Maedhros had felt the way Fingon hovered between wonder and confusion at what they’d wrought: the way he couldn’t quite manage to think of the child as his own, this thing spun out of air and calculation and freshwater into heavy, solid life. He could have loved him so desperately, Maedhros knew that. He was halfway there, hovering in terror on the edge, afraid of falling. If the baby had stayed in Barad Eithel longer; if Fingon had watched him begin to creep around on fat little knees, to pull himself up on the furniture and to take his first steps – to hear the baby babble turn into words and speech – his heart would have opened to him like a flower, and the child would have become the centre of his universe, the sun in his sky.

Fingon had never known what to do with Idril as an infant, either, but he’d easily become an adored uncle as she grew up. If they’d had more time – if the child had been permitted to stay with Fingon even a month longer before being sent for safety to Cirdan –

Well, they’d never had enough time.

There had been few walls between them then, so he had felt Maedhros’s bright joy, the painful love, in its moment of birth: swelling and swelling like a cloud with rain, as though his heart was growing and his blood was leaking out of him at the same time, transmuting into pure tenderness and iron purpose.

I like this because I think of the Ekkaia scene as a cloudburst, full of emotion that has been swelling and swelling and now released. This is one bit of the breaking-through.

He had never needed to ask whether Maedhros considered Gil-galad a son.

“I don’t want to talk about – him,” Fingon said with difficulty, and the salt breeze stung his face, his eyes. “I know you loathe him, and rightly; and I do, too. I do hate him; or I hate what he did. I do! But you should know – you deserve to – that he wanted you, badly, although he never met you; he never wanted the shadow on him to touch you or to taint you.

And this. You can see here where I spun off into cliffs of fall, which isn't a scion story, but sprung out of this speech. It was already there in those sketchy notes, too, a lot of what Fingon's saying here: this important line about hating Maedhros, or what he did (that movement from clear certainty to trying to separate the deeds from the loved one; to urgent reptition - I do! I mean it, I really do! - which means he doesn't, can't: this is the heart of Fingon's guilt, because he wants to hate Maedhros utterly, but he can't, and he is profoundly in denial about that).

“He always wanted children; I took that from him even before the Oath did, but I gave it back to him with you. I loved you first of all for that, but he loved you for yourself. Because you existed, against all hope and possibility and fate and chance; and because you were ours.”

Gil-galad said nothing. There was still a wildflower tucked behind his ear, but the brilliance had quite left his eyes.

“Well,” Fingon said at last. “I needed to tell you that. You should know that you were never – not only – you were wanted very much."

Beloved ineloquent Fingon, &c.

-

They were some miles from the beach when Gil-galad said, “‘Ours’?”

“Yes."

-

I was trying to let the gaps and breaks talk for me in the text. Under-writing.

The beginning was full of these little breaks, too, because they didn't yet know how to talk to each other; now at the end, that connection, and their conversations, are breaking down again. It's echoing that ride together at the beginning very strongly, but now it's not Gil-galad trying to become acquainted and Fingon giving light, unsatisfying answers. These are the real questions/answers at last, and the whole story has really been about getting to the point of Fingon and Gil-galad in Aman where they actually could have the kind of conversation Gil-galad was trying to have at the start.

-

Some miles further, Fingon said, “Did you ever meet him in Beleriand? After I died. I always wondered.”

“No,” Gil-galad said.

It didn’t seem like he was going to speak again, and Fingon had begun to assimilate that knowledge, that pain – that Maedhros had never seen him, had only ever known him through Fingon’s own eyes – when he added,

“But I saw what he did. Have you ever seen a whole city ruined, and known the ruiners to be Elves? It wasn’t even a city, poor Sirion! It was a refuge, a place for the desperate, as far to the West as they could get, as close to the safety of the Sea. They had so very little. No great stone palaces, no towers, no spires. Little enough fresh food. They were able to grow so little, and they lived on fish, and sea-weed, and what brave hunting parties would bring back; and hope. They lived on hope, and they thought Elwing wore it around her throat, but the Valar didn’t come for them: Maedhros Fëanorion and his brothers did instead, and they burned and killed and ravaged. I’d say they salted the earth, but it was salt already. To fall on any innocent Elven city would be a horror: on poor Sirion it was the greatest cruelty I ever saw, and entirely pointless."

They said nothing more.

I like this, too, actually. You see a little here of why Gil-galad might be healthily sceptical of the Valar - they didn't come for them: Maedhros Feanorion and his brothers did instead - and that very post-war experience of seeing a descrated, destroyed town. Worse when you had seen it when it was whole, when you knew the dead and fled.

Sirion is, I think, the worst thing the Feanorions did. I find it worse than even Doriath or Alqualonde (though they're all awful!). These were desperate survivors, huddled together at the edge of the sea for protection. So many of their leaders had been killed or lost. Idril and Tuor had disappeared; Earendil was away; Maedhros and the others struck while only Elwing was there, and she was so young, and so alone, and so damaged already by what they'd done in Doriath. And now they’d come again. There's something about the revictimisation that gets me. It's awful.

I wanted it to be weight and counter-weight - that soft, painful, remembered moment of Maedhros seeing baby Gil-galad through Fingon's eyes, something Fingon has clearly not deliberately thought about since he was reborn, but dredges up now for Gil-galad, because he should know: and which is echoed in the beginning by Fingon's question to Finrod. But Maedhros is still the person who did the things he did, and I wanted to set that soft moment of truth against his deeds at Sirion, another truth, to point out clearly why Gil-galad would recoil so hard from this offering, this honesty Fingon wants to be able to give him. This is the dichotomy at the heart of the story: reconciling Maedhros and how one felt for him with what he did, and how one feels about that. It is irresolvable, at least for Fingon, at least at the moment I've ended it at for now.

I don't know if this is quite what you wanted, @warrioreowynofrohan, especially because like I said, I wrote this story in a frantic fog, but I hope this in some way suffices!

[ultimatetrashgoblin]

My thoughts on Immortal Heart Society

DISCLAIMER: These are my OPINIONS. I do not claim any of this as fact, you are allowed to disagree with me. (Spoilers for Cassius and Alanna season 1)

First impressions for this series could have been better. There are plenty of problems with this series so far that I will address, but for now, let’s focus on the positives.

The writing is beautiful. As an avid reader and writer, one of my biggest pet peeves is lazy and unimaginative writing. IHS had some incredibly written lines, and I was immediately hooked even if I hated the love interests.

(I don’t have many screenshots but here are a few I did take)

The plot is interesting. While the pacing is a bit off at times, I found the concept of a corrupt secret society intriguing, and the mysteries surrounding the father was enough to get me invested.

The Inner Circle is (mostly) likable. I’m a sucker for found family, and my favorite series on this app (EAA, QoT, GIL, etc.) will usually have plenty of group banter, and the Inner Circle is no exception. One of my favorite scenes in Alanna’s route was in Richard’s office when everyone realized Alanna and FMC were exes.

Kiran. No further explanation. Lovestruck let me date her please.

For the most part, IHS seems like a promising series. But of course, when you have plenty of amazing side characters who would make wonderful LIs, you decide to premiere your series with the arrogant asshole and the compulsive liar.

Cassius Tarkhan

I should probably begin by saying I’m usually not a fan of the “rude, snarky, arrogant” LIs and read Cassius’s route solely because I was excited for the new series. So please take what you’re about to read with a grain of salt, since I am probably extremely biased against him.

This is a direct quote from me reading Cassius’s first few episodes: “I want to punch this man in his stupid fucking face.” I said this out loud, which should give you an indication of what’s to come.

As far as first meetings go, Cassius was probably one of the worst. At first it was all “fun banter oh look at the chemistry” until he sees the invitation and becomes the most insufferable pricks I have ever seen. (I’m sorry, but was that supposed to be romantic?! If I were in FMC’s position, I would be terrified!)

Most of the season went by with Cassius being infuriating and not telling FMC anything, and me questioning if I was actually supposed to like the guy I was supposed to be romancing. The villain dude (I don’t care enough about him to try to remember his name) was boring and creepy. I also had a strong desire to punch him in the face, but I’ll settle for him turning to stone.

It wasn’t until the season finale that I actually started to like Cassius. He started to open up more to FMC, he showed vulnerability, and was generally more tolerable. Hopefully we’ll be able to see more of this Cassius in later seasons, because I believe that it might save his route and maybe I won’t want to punch him in the face as badly.

As for the ending, I’ve read the final episode multiple times and I’m still not exactly sure what happened in that final scene. Cassius tells FMC that he won’t let her meet with the Society on her own and then... is he about to kiss her? This is a genuine question I’m asking I honestly couldn’t tell. It seemed like he was going to but it was very unclear to me.

If I was going to rate this season as a whole, I’d give it a 3 out of 10. Hope to see better next season, because he does have the potential to be better, but that wasn’t shown until the end of the season.

Alanna McKenna

At first, I liked Alanna’s route. I was excited about have an LI who was an ex, she was attractive (except for that weird smirk expression what was that???), she was funny, and I’ve already talked about how much I love the writing.

Then the lying started. I’ve had the misfortune of dealing with my family, many of which are narcissistic pathological liars, so I consider myself pretty decent at figuring out patterns in their behavior. And Alanna fits them to a T.

Please note that I am in no way educated on this topic and do not have the authority to state anything as fact. I am making observations based on personal experience dealing with people like this, and I encourage you to view Alanna’s behavior for yourself and come up with your own conclusions.

My first red flag was the emotional manipulation. Near the beginning, this was in the form of flattery. If FMC started asking questions, Alanna would flirt with her, which would cause FMC to either become flustered or flirt back, both outcomes momentarily distracting her from the original topic.

To FMC’s credit, she does notice when Alanna starts deflecting (she mentions recognizing certain behaviors from when they were together), but she backs down. As someone who hates confrontation, I can understand FMC’s reasoning for this. I find trying to communicate certain issues with these people exhausting. It tends to feel like speaking to a broken record, and can become emotionally draining. However, this is the exact outcome that these people want. They hate being called out on their lies, and when pushed further (in my experience), they tend to result to guilt tripping.

The flirting I could ignore. When I first read it, I thought that was just her personality (which is partially true). But then FMC stood her ground more, and Alanna fell apart. She started crying, talking about how much pressure she was under, making up excuses (a prime example of this was her saying that she thought ghosting FMC would make it easier, which I’ll touch on later), and causing FMC to doubt her (valid) reasons for being angry with Alanna.

I feel like it’s also necessary to talk about Alanna interacting with the other society members. FMC was noticeably uncomfortable with how genuine Alanna seemed to be, and I understand the feeling of betrayal of thinking you know a person, only to see them act like a complete stranger at the drop of a hat. The mental turmoil of wondering which version of this person is the real them, and whether your entire relationship was all a lie.

That part was way longer than I expected, so let’s talk about the “villain”. I’m glad that Arabella isn’t the big bad even if she tried to kill FMC, because she seems like such a genuine person and I’m tired of season WOC be villainized in visual novels (I’m not naming names but you know what apps I’m talking about Choices). I hope that FMC and Alanna will be able to help her and her sister, and that Arabella will get a redemption arc in the future and maybe a route.

The cliffhanger was actually sort of unexpected. FMC finally called Alanna out on her bs (GOOD👏FOR👏HER👏) and tried to leave the Society. Lowkey kind of scared to see how they follow this up in season 2, because it seems like they’re ready to murder FMC.

If we ignore the LIs themselves, I did prefer Alanna’s route to Cassius’s. I feel like we got to see more of the other characters, and I thought the pacing was better. But I don’t like either of them. As I’ve said Cassius seems like he’s improving, but Alanna? Nope. I’m staying for the plot and Arabella, but I’m more than willing to drop her route if this pattern continues (especially if I decide it’s too triggering for me, my mental health is more important).

Rating: 2/10

Final thoughts

As I stated previously, while IHS’s initial premiere wasn’t the best, I believe this series has the potential to be good. My main issues are with the pacing, and above all, the LIs (which isn’t good for a visual novel story centered around romancing the LIs).

Overall rating: 3/10

This is my first time doing something like this so any feedback would be very appreciated. Feel free to offer any criticisms, and let me know if I should make a series out of this! (This did take me a while so if I decide to continue doing this it might not be posted until a day or two later)

[mindmeltonabun-blog]

Tale of the Nine Tailed: Analysis and Theories of Ep 8

Welcome to another edition of Mind Melt On A Bun’s analysis and theories of TOTNT. I hope you all will enjoy this post, but fair warning it’s once again another VERY LONG POST! So if you want to turn on your thinking cap and face the risk of your brain blowing up into a million pieces then feel free to keep reading!

Snail Bride and Her Husband

Ureongi gaksi (우렁이 각시) or Snail Bride is a Korean legend which tells about a poor farmer who breaks a taboo and marries a woman who is actually a snail. One day while working in the rice paddy field, the farmer says to himself, “Who will I eat this rice with?”. To which a voice replied, “With me.”. Having heard this voice, the man turned around to see who it was, but only saw a snail. After having heard that, the man found that each day after returning home from work, a meal was always prepared for him. 

The farmer was curious of who had been preparing his meal. So one day he pretended to go to work in order to catch a sight of whoever it was that had been preparing his meal. To his surprise, he had seen a beautiful woman emerging from the snail shell. Having been blown away by her beauty, he immediately asked her to live with him instead of returning to the snail shell. However, the woman told him it was not time yet and to be patient. Being the persistent man that he was, he eventually got the Snail to marry him.

The farmer became plagued with the fear that his beautiful Snail Bride might one day be taken away from him so he instructed her to never leave the house. The Snail Bride listened to her husband and did as she was told until one day when her mother-in-law told the Snail Bride to go and deliver lunch to the farmer. And so, the Snail bride did as she was told. However, along the way, the Magistrate who was enamoured by her beauty decided to kidnap her and make her his bride. Despite the farmer’s many efforts, he never found his Snail Bride and ended up dying of a broken heart and being reborn as a blue bird. Tragic I know !!! 

Anyways, when applying this story to TOTNT, you will find that Ji Ah’s boss had shared many similar characteristics to the farmer from the Snail Bride myth such as persistency. Other clues that supports the ideal that Ji Ah’s boss is the farmer can be seen in the conversation between Green Juice Lady. The first clue is his fear of flying. This could be seen as a side effect of him being reborn in a previous life as a blue bird. I bet if Ji Ah used those Eyebrows of a Tiger Glasses, she would see him as a bird blue. 

The second clue was in what the Green Juice Lady said, “ What are you doing here?”. I interpreted this as her knowing him in the past as well as her not expecting to see the farmer’s reincarnated self in the same vicinity as the Snail Bride.

Green Juice Lady Origin 

In Korean mythology, there is a creature by the name of “Dueoksini/Dokeoksini” (두억시니는 ) that kills you by crushing your head (figuratively or literally). In Korean mythology, this creature is seen as an in between of a dokkaebi/goblin and a yokai. Because Dueoksinis have been mostly been forgotten throughout Korean literature, they are usually refer to as being a type of Korean Yokai. 

Or the way I like to view the Green Juice Lady is that she's basically Pennywise, Freddy Krueger, and the Boggart rolled into one. After all its like Frank Hebert once wrote in Dune: “Fear is the mind killer”.

Taluipa

In TOTNT, the character Taluipa is seen as being the goddess of birth and fate, Sansin Halmoni. Besides having the ability of controlling birth and fate, Taluipa also can also foresee the future as well as grant immortality (i.e her husband). Given all of this, it is likely that her child, Bok Gil, would’ve had some pretty powerful abilities because he came from such a superior mother. 

Now not much is known about Taluipa’s son other than he had committed suicide. Furthermore, the act of suicide was seen as a such a bad taboo that ensured he could never be reborn/reincarnated. In the context of TOTNT, it is inferred that even if you sacrifice yourself for the one you love, it is still considered suicide. 

Lee Yeon’s Original Plan For the Imoogi

I think originally Lee Yeon had planned to take the Imoogi into himself and subsequently kill himself. However, when faced with the possibility that this would mean Lee Yeon could not be reincarnated, Ah Eum decided it was better that Lee Yeon killed her because at least she could be reincarnated. 

Now you may think that well if Ah Eum sacrificed herself for the one she loves, isn’t that contradictory to what I said earlier about how sacrificing yourself for the one you love is still considered suicide and thus meant you couldn’t be reborn? It really doesn’t and here’s why. Remember that at this time, Ah Eum already had the Imoogi inside of her so her death by Lee Yeon’s hands were not seen as a sacrificial suicide. Rather, it was seen as him killing a greater evil and preventing the deaths of hundreds. Thus, this meant that Ah Eum could be reincarnated. Had Ah Eum ran into Lee Yeon’s knife or stabbed herself in the temporary moment she gain back control of her body, then that would’ve been seen as sacrificial suicide. 

If both Lee Yeon and Ah Eum were able to find a loop hole at the very last minute that ensured Ah Eum’s reincarnation, I am sure that this time around  Lee Yeon will be able to find a better loop hole given that he has had more time to than previously as well as learning from his past mistakes as it pertains to the Imoogi. I largely believe that this loop hole will have something to do with the favor Lee Yeon had asked of Taluipa’s husband. Maybe the favor Lee Yeon is asking Taluipa’s husband for is the elixir of life that is located in the Underworld (Hint: read my posts about Princess Bari). I think that Lee Yeon will want it just in case either him or Ji Ah dies in their battle against the Imoogi. Such an elixir could revive them!

Taluipa’s Son/Bok Gil = The Imoogi

As previously mentioned, I had theorized that Taluipa’s son, Bok Gil, must have been one hell of a powerful being given that his mom was a powerful Goddess herself. As to what those abilities could have been, it is still a mystery. However, I feel like his powers would’ve been connected the ones Taluipa had (i.e birth, fate, and ability to see what others cannot see). Again, not much was mentioned about him other than he committed suicide and that his name was Bok Gil. 

Now let’s look at the Imoogi, we know that he has the power of life (bringing the bird back to life), death (sucking the life out of his nannies), and rebirth (being reborn as that boy). 

By the way, I think it’s interesting that the cycle of life, death, and rebirth is represented as an “Ouroboros” or a snake eating its tail. Coincidence? I think not.

Anyways back to what else we know about the Imoogi. We know that he was born in a leap year as well as being born in a place between the living and dead (btw Lee Yeon was born in 420AD also a leap year..possible connection somehow?). The Imoogi could also see what others don’t see such as your soul and your deepest emotions.

If you think about it, when Bok Gil committed suicide, his soul/body was neither in the land of the living nor the dead. He was in between those two realms or in limbo. Connecting this to the fact that the Imoogi said he was born in a place between the living and dead, there is a significant possibility that Bok Gil is indeed the Imoogi. Furthermore, if you look at the kinds of power the Imoogi has and the powers that Taluipa has, you will find that they are strangely similar or related. If that doesn’t convince you enough then just compare the voice of Bok Gil to that of the Imoogi!

Imoogi and Lee Yeon

Initially, I had thought the Imoogi had wanted Lee Yeon for his fox bead (a kind of Yeouiju) so that it could become a dragon, but now I am beginning to think there’s more to the story than just Lee Yeon’s bead. If indeed Bok Gil is the Imoogi then I am left to wonder what kind of relationship did Lee Yeon have with Bok Gil before he died. Furthermore, could Lee Yeon have been part of the reason why Bok Gil committed suicide in the first place? If Lee Yeon had been part of the reason why Bok Gil committed suicide, then I can totally understand why Bok Gil/Imoogi would want to try to exact his revenge and/or anger on Lee Yeon. Maybe Bok Gil was jealous of Lee Yeon for getting more attention from his own parents than he was or maybe Lee Yeon got the girl he was interested in or maybe Lee Yeon was really mean and had bullied him or maybe the person who Bok Gil had died for (aka a loved) was somehow connected to Lee Yeon. I don’t know, I’m just purely theorizing and for all we know all the Imoogi wants is just Lee Yeon’s fox bead so that it can become a dragon.

Black and White Imagery

Other things I found interesting is the usage of black and white in Ep 8. For example, the shirts Lee Rang and Lee Yeon wears, the colors of the stones of the “Go Game”, and the cars in the background of the parking lot Lee Yeon was in. 

Typically, the color combination of black and white represents Yin/Yang, Good/Evil, and Life/Death. In either cases, the concept is the same. Both represent the concept of dualism or the ideal that everything is interdependent, interconnected, and interrelated. Meaning you can’t have Yin without Yang, Good without Evil, and Life without Death. Or in the case of Lee Yeon standing in between the two cars and the two doors, both Lee Rang and Ah Eum/Ji Ah’s lives and fate were interdependent, interconnected, and interrelated to that of Lee Yeon’s. 

Episode 9 Predictions

Lee Yeon will get Lee Rang out of the Forest of the Preta and Lee Rang will realize that his brother never really abandoned him in the first place. Additionally, their time in the Forest of the Preta is like a blessing in disguise because it helped both brothers to resolve the misunderstanding that occurred 600 years ago.

Now with Ji Ah, I think she will overcome her fear of the car accident. However I think she will be faced with another fear of hers which is seeing Lee Yeon die. I think she will overcome this too, but the Green Juice Lady will pull out one last trick out of the bag. Instead of making Ji Ah relieve some of her worst nightmares, she will make Ji Ah live in a world where all her dreams have come true such as having her parents back and Lee Yeon by her side. The Green Juice Lady will do this as a way to make sure that Ji Ah would never want to leave. After all, why leave a world where all your dreams come true right? Plus, Ji Ah’s mentality will become weaker because she will start to believe that the dream world she is living in is a reality. Therefore, in order to win against the Green Juice Lady, one must have a strong mind that is not killed by fear nor weaken by fantastical delusions.

This kind of reminds of the creature, “Black Mercy”, from Super Girl. Briefly, “Black Mercy” is alien parasite that makes its host dream their perfect fantasy world while it feeds off of them. The only way for the host to get the “Black Mercy” to detach itself is for the host to realize that the fantasy world they are living in is not real. So for Ji Ah, maybe she would have to do the same on her own or it would take Lee Yeon coming into her dreamworld in order for her to realize this.

Last Remarks

For all of those who are still left confused as to why Lee Yeon chose to save Lee Rang first, you can check it out here:

https://mindmeltonabun-blog.tumblr.com/post/633271037441818624/tale-of-the-nine-tailed-ep-7-thoughts-and

And if you’re too lazy to click/read all of that post, I’ll put it simply here:

In the past, Lee Yeon chose to go after Ah Eum first instead of saving Lee Rang from the villagers burning down the mountain. So this time around Lee Yeon did not want to make the same mistake twice and also Lee Yeon wanted to atone for his past mistakes. Plus, Lee Yeon knew that between Lee Rang and Ji Ah, Lee Rang had the weaker mentality so he would need more saving than Ji Ah would. 

Happy Readings! I need a drink now after writing all of this !

[twoidiotwriters1]

Hollywood!AU -(Anne xFem!Reader)

A/N: Warning, this is LONG and ends up abruptly. I hope it was somehow near to what you were imagining! -Danny

Request: 🍇-Ik I'm late but I rly wanted to try this out. So the characters and me and a girl named 'angie' Anne. It's basically set in hollywood and they both are enemies, but they grow fond of each other over time and start dating. Paparazzi interfere and what not (i'm bored). Can you make it really angst and some smuts? (I'm a bi girl, btw) @nandos-hub-for-dumbasses​

Warnings: Mentions of smut and sad cuties

Twoidiots Masterlist

Okay so, you guys kinda grew up in the industry so you became “enemies” while being really young

And it was probably a silly fight, or maybe your parents put you against each other, or maybe you were always competing for the big parts on tv shows and movies

The point is that by the time you guys were seventeen you hated each other with a burning passion (as any seventeen-year-old does)

Then it happened: You were casted as best friends for an indie teen movie

You really wanted to refuse, but Ruby (your irl best friend) did her best to convince you against it

This could be your big break (and it was)

But only bc the chemistry you and Anne had on screen was ??? so wholesome and great???

You even made a sequel 

And then it became a trilogy, with your characters going to different schools by the time they graduate HS so it’s really cheesy and heartfelt

but Anne and you actually worked out your differences during the process and by the time you finish the third movie you both actually cry bc you won’t work together again??

You keep in touch but both of you have projects and things to do, until three years later when you both are invited to the Oscars and HOLY FUCK ANNE IS HOT NOW???

Like sure she was always beautiful, which was part of the reason why you kinda disliked her but omg right now you wouldn’t mind it if she kicked you in the face

Anne sees you and rushes over to hug you, the paparazzi are going WILD this is the reunion of the bffs from that movie everyone used to love!!

In the middle of the ceremony you even convinced THE Marilla Cuthbert (amazing actress) to switch seats with you so you can spend the rest of the night with Anne

The after party’s wild, everyone’s there. Funnily enough, you can’t recall most of the faces bc all you can remember of that night is 1-you ended up drunk as hell and 2-right before you two started drinking Anne had already made out with you in the bathroom

What came next was pretty much the best time of your life. Dates, nightcalls, instagram stories, suddenly a month turned into six, then nine...

As twenty-something-year-olds, you and Anne have tons of offers falling into your laps, Anne gets a call for a casting call and she gets the main role.

This main role happens to have a romantic interest. Who turns out will be played by none other than Gilbert John Blythe.

He’s been in the industry for like two, maybe three years. But the kid’s a charmer, he’s got brains and he’s beautiful. Everyone loves him. 

And everyone wants Anne to love him as well. 

You get tons of video recs on youtube titled “Anne and Gilbert in love for ten minutes straight” or “everytime Anne undresses Gilbert with her eyes”

It’s alright, you’ve seen this before, and you can’t blame them, they have an amazing chemistry in the show and it’s only natural that people wants that to be real

But god, the toxic fans are the worst, the comments about “imagine having to say goodbye to Gil only to go home and find Y/N there... disgusting”

You should stop reading those comments, really you should. They’re unhealthy, and these people don’t even know you

You manage to ignore most of it until the press releases the pictures: Anne and Gilbert walking out of some random restaurant in the city where they film the show... kissing.

Angry doesn’t even start to describe you rn. You’re seething, you’ve been humiliated, your twitter and your texts are both blowing up with notification. 

Anne calls you at least thirty times before she stops trying.

She finished season one and takes the first flight back to you, and it takes all of her courage, but she goes to your house as soon as she lands safely. 

Then two hours pass before you open the door. 

You were out with Ruby getting wasted, so when you get home you come face-to-face with Anne sitting on your driveway and crying her eyes out thinking you’re just ignoring her.

She sees you and she stands up, you try to escape and ignore her, you tell her you don’t wanna know, that she should move on and forget you bc she’s clearly happy with Gilbert

She says it took her by surprise, that Gilbert kissed her without her consent, but you don’t believe her.

But you’re also very drunk, and shit, you’d missed Anne so badly...

Her perfume somehow smells stronger than usual, and your eyes land on her pouty lips, you’re bitter, but you’re also desperate to feel her mouth on you.

You pull her in roughly for a kiss she was definitely not expecting, but her hands are quick to get all over you. Half an hour later, her fingers are in you.

You hate her, but you’re deeply in love, and you can’t remember where one ends and the other starts. You’re all feelings, and every single thought in your mind belongs to her.

it’s only when you’re completely sober, after the third -or was it the fourth?- round, that you decide to get it over with.

“Do you like him?” 

Anne’s falling asleep with her arm around you, but she tenses. She wants to say no, of course she doesn’t! Gilbert would never compare... Gilbert shouldn’t occupy a single though in her mind

Yet, she keeps thinking about his kiss, even though they ended up in really bad terms afterwards

“I love you. Isn’t that what you should care about?”

That’s not the answer you want, and both of you know she can’t give you a real answer, you know her so well by now, you can practically read her swirling thoughts, all confusing, undecided.

“I can’t be your partner for as long as you continue working with him. I’m sorry. I don’t want you to quit, I’m not asking you to... I’m tired of the hate in social media, of me being the one that somehow doesn’t belong next to you simply bc I’m not the popular heartthrob—” “I want you!”

“But I want to be happy.”

Add yourself to out taglist!

Forever Taglist.

@i-am-scared-and-useless-bisexual​ @just-here-to-escape-from-reality​ 

ANNE Taglist.

@ninizkd @http-itsrebecca​ @aleksosoto​ 

[jess-rewatches-prodigalson]

The Last Weekend (S2, E13)

It’s been a trip fam. Hopefully, it continues for a third season. Thanks for sticking with me this far. 

My time-stamped thoughts for this episode are below. As always I reference Malcolm’s mental health. A lot. So if that’s going to be a trigger for you, don’t keep reading.

SPOILERS AHEAD:

0:19 - That taxidermy is creepy af. 

0:25 - Ok. But like, this is amazing. Look at Malcolm. He’s confused,  annoyed, and a little pissed off but he doesn’t actually look scared. He just woke up in a strange place tied to a chair and the last thing he remembers is telling his father to run. He knows his serial killer father kidnapped him but he’s not scared because there’s a part of Malcolm that is so so desperate for Martin to love him. Malcolm is NOT okay. His reaction to being kidnapped by his serial killer father is evidence of that. This dude is not in a good mental place. I'm here for it. This is bad. 

0:40 - Groggy, annoyed, and sassy Malcolm is adorable.

0:51 - This is a woman who thinks not telling the NYPD about that Capshaw phone call killed her son. She doesn’t know where Malcolm is right now or if he’s alive. BUT Jessica knows Martin has Malcolm and therefore - Malcolm is not safe. The guilt and fear is oozing from Jessica and I want to hug her. :( <3

1:13 - Again. Malcolm is in danger. Why doesn’t Ainsley seem to be worried? At all?!? This girl’s lack of empathy is genuinely concerning. If my brother was abducted by our abusive father I would be a wreck. 

1:25 - “Don’t get cocky.” HA. What a great line. Although, it’s really sad to see how desperate Ainsley is for some attention from her mother. Although, I do love the contrast between this line and the line from 1x3: "You watch my reports?" "Not with the sound on". Jessica really is growing as a parent. I love that for her. 

1:31 - “Capshaw is claiming Malcolm was Dad’s accomplice.” WHY ISN'T AINSLEY UPSET ABOUT THIS. SHE’S ACTING LIKE IT’S JUST SOME JUICY GOSSIP. BE ANGRY GIRL. BE SCARED. BE UPSET. THIS IS YOUR BROTHER. At least Jessica is pissed and scared about it. 

1:46 - “Cruel eyes.” Has Capshaw ever looked at Malcolm? That boy has the sweetest eyes ever. They’re a gorgeous shade of blue, wide, and expressive. Never cruel. Often fearful. ALSO the fact that Capshaw looks at the window (where she knows Malcolm’s friends are standing) when she says this INFURIATES ME. I want this woman dead. She is the spawn of Satan and you can't change my mind. 

1:50 - The way Dani looks at Gil when he says, “You buying this?” is wonderful. This girl is scandalized at the idea that Gil might be buying Capshaw’s story. This girl is team Malcolm and I love her for it. She's so offended at the idea that Gil - the man who's known Malcolm since he was 10 years old - might think Malcolm is a bad guy. <3 <3 

1:52 - “Our boy’s crazy, but not that crazy.” <3 <3 <3 Every time JT calls Malcolm “our boy” or “our guy” my heart explodes. I love the evolution of their relationship so so so much. <3 Also JT is giving off major big brother vibes to Dani and Malcolm this episode and I LOVE IT. <3

1:54 - “Good. We all know she’s lying. Problem is we’re the only ones.” This whole scene. *CHEF’S KISS* Seriously, protective!Dani, protective!JT, and protective!Gil in the same scene?!? All going to bat for Malcolm? I’m in love. This is the found family content I’m here for. ALSO look at GIL. This man is so so pissed that someone is trying to paint his surrogate son as the bad guy. Gil is a good man but someone is threatening his family and that means he’s going to break his own rules. <3 I’m here for it. This is the kind of inner turmoil I subscribed to this show for. 

2:02 - "Good morning sleepyhead." I have thoughts. 1) If Martin truly cared about Malcolm why didn't he restrain Malcolm on one of those twin beds (where he could actually sleep) instead of tying him to a chair?!?! 2) Look at how hard Martin is trying to act like Malcolm's friend (not even a good friend). He's not acting like Malcolm's dad. A dad or a good friend wouldn't leave a guy who just suffered from an embolism alone and tied to a chair. They'd take him to a hospital, obviously that was out of the question here. So for the sake of this comparison, a good friend/dad would have put Malcolm on the bed, gotten some warm blankets for him, made sure water was close by, and stayed with him until he woke up - to you know, MAKE SURE HE'S STILL BREATHING?!?! BUT not Martin, this dude just waltzes into the room and delivers a mildly condescending yet cheery rendition of "good morning sleepyhead" almost as though Malcolm's unconscious state was a burden to Martin. Even though Malcolm was unconscious because MARTIN DRUGGED HIM (also not good!Dad behaviour). 

2:04 - "You drugged me?!?" This breaks my heart. After everything, Malcolm is still surprised (and rightfully annoyed) that his father drugged him. Malcolm knows that Martin is a bad man. He knows Martin has drugged him before. He knows he shouldn't trust Martin but after everything there's still a part of Malcolm desperate to believe that Martin loves him. PLUS one of the last memories Malcolm has before he woke up in this motel is of Martin saving his life. Malcolm was giving in to the "maybe Dad really does love me" mentality. It's heartbreaking and I want to give Malcolm a hug. 

2:23 - I find this whole exchange so upsetting yet interesting. Both Malcolm and Martin are being openly hostile to each other. Usually, Malcolm is civil to Martin but right now, Martin is NOT chained to a wall and Malcolm is acting like an argumentative and whiny teenager (and rightfully so but still not a safe move). Martin is matching Malcolm’s mood. Martin is engaging in Malcolm’s frustration with an off-putting amount of cheer. I honestly believe Martin is just ecstatic that he’s been given an opportunity to ‘be a father’ again. There’s also a part of me that is completely convinced that Martin was already hatching his plan to have Malcolm kill him. Why would he do that? My answer: 1) Martin doesn’t want to go back to prison, 2) To finally get revenge on Malcolm for turning him in in 1998, 3) he’s a predatory psychopath and he saw an opportunity to screw with someone, 4) Martin is pissed off that Malcolm keeps trying to distance himself from Martin. Martin see’s it as betrayal and he wants to make Malcolm suffer. 

2:25 - THIS. IS. AMAZING. The way Malcolm immediately panics and tries to escape Martin when the switchblade comes out is incredible. You can see Malcolm’s perspective shift. We actually see it flip back and forth all episode. Half the time, Malcolm is a little boy desperately trying to convince himself that Martin has changed and that Martin loves him. The other half of the time, Malcolm is a logical and educated adult who knows Martin is a dangerous killer who is trying to manipulate him. It’s such a compelling dichotomy.

 2:44 - “We are the victims here Malcolm.” I absolutely believe that Martin believes this statement. HOWEVER, I also think he’s using the situation to his advantage in an attempt to sway Malcolm’s trust in him. 

2:52 - “You’re in a pickle.” This infuriates me. Martin does NOT love or care about Malcolm. What Martin does love - is what Malcolm does for him. ie. Providing him a connection to the real world (visiting him in prison), giving him an outlet for his attention-seeking needs, giving him a plaything to manipulate. Martin views Malcolm as a pet NOT a person and NOT a son. That kills me. 

2:55 - “I need to call Gil.” <3 <3 This is absolutely beautiful and terrifyingly stupid. Beautiful because Malcolm is in trouble and his knee-jerk reaction is “Gil can help. I trust Gil. Gil loves me. He’ll listen. He’ll help.” <3 <3 So precious. It’s scary though because it’s no secret that Martin views Gil as a threat to his family. This will make Martin more determined to manipulate Malcolm. Because again, Martin views everything as possessions. He doesn’t actually love Malcolm, Ainsley, and Jessica. He loves the idea of them and what he can do with them. He doesn’t actually care about them though. He only cares about their wellbeing to the extent of how it will affect him. (SIDE NOTE: I’m honestly crushed that we didn’t get a proper Gil+Martin face off during this finale.)

2:58 - “Gil’s great and all.” This man speaketh from his ass. He hates Gil. This is some damn fine manipulation. He’s interaction with Malcolm in a way he knows Malcolm will have a positive reaction. I respect it. It also makes my blood boil (out of love for Malcolm).

3:05 - “Who would you believe?” This hurts. Look at how absolutely crushed Malcolm looks. Malcolm knows no one will believe him. Why would they? He’s the son of a serial killer with well documented mental health issues and well documented issues with rule-following. It’s common knowledge that he’s an intense and weird dude. And it’s all Martin’s fault. 

3:07 - “Can we talk?” I’m impressed. First, Martin complements the man he knows Malcolm respects more than anything. Then, he appeals to Malcolm’s insecurities and fears of being ‘The Surgeon’s son’. He does it all calmly, in a comforting tone of voice. This is manipulation at its finest. 

3:17 - “You look ridiculous.” This is Malcolm fully aware that Martin just tried to manipulate him. It still hurt Malcolm because those fears about no one believing him are completely rational and a very logical outcome of the scenario but at least Malcolm is aware of Martin’s game.

3:30 - “I’m Clare.” .....Clare = Claremont. Did Martin do that subconsciously or is he aware?  I can totally see him accidentally picking that name because after 20 years he’s begun to define himself as a part of the Claremont institution. He’s almost trying to maintain that link to the life he’s become accustom to. 

3:35 - “Too insane.” Holy shit. Malcolm sassing Martin is 1) hilarious but 2) super scary because I just keep waiting for Martin to snap and hurt Malcolm for his “disrespectful and ungrateful behaviour”. Malcolm really has no fear in this scene and I’m scared for what that means for his mental state. It’s not good. That much I know. 

3:45 - “I’m not your friend.” This broke my heart. Malcolm is so upset as he delivers this little outburst. He can see that Martin is trying to act like his friend instead of a loving father. It’s killing the little boy inside of Malcolm. It’s also frustrating for Malcolm because he wants so badly to do the right thing (turn Martin in) but he also just wants his dad to act like a real dad. 

3:55 - The fear in Malcolm’s eyes when Martin brings the knife back out. <3 Gorgeous. 

4:00 - The trepidation in Malcolm’s face as Martin cuts him loose. <3  ALSO, “I didn’t kill you. That’s gotta count for something.” why the hell should that count for something now? Martin tried to kill a 10 year old Malcolm. That should be the end. Any FATHER who tries to kill his 10 year old son (no matter what the kid may have done) is a garbage human and that child should never be told he has to forgive, trust, or have a relationship with his father. On some level Malcolm knows this BUT he’s also desperately trying to convince himself that Martin is a changed man. 

4:12 - WTF Ainsley? This scene genuinely makes me believe Ainsley has been somehow involved in this whole prison break scheme. Or at least, she’s been in contact with Martin since the escape. 

4:43 - “You’ve got to be kidding me.” Okay. Fine. Ainsley is finally showing a bit of fear here. But is it because of the Woodsman? Something tells me Martin has gotten into Ainsley’s head and Ainsely genuinely believes that Malcolm is safe with Martin. The Woodsman changes things though. Maybe the Woodsman was a variable Ainsley wasn’t expecting or didn’t plan with Martin. 

5:00 - “Why are we in Vermont?” First of all - there’s something precious about the way this line was delivered. Secondly, why is Malcolm eating? Doesn’t most food make him sick (1x1)? This is a high stress situation - presumably he’d be too nauseous/stressed to eat right now. 

5:15 - “That dream’s as dead as your 23 victims.” hahahaha ZING. This line actually hurts though. It’s not just Martin’s dream that’s dead. Malcolm’s is too. Presumably Malcolm has a fantasy somewhere in the back of his mind where he’s happily married with children. Hell, maybe his children visit their grandparents every weekend for Sunday brunch? But Malcolm probably doesn’t actually think he can have kids or a spouse because he’s terrified of what kind of a father and husband he’d be. That’s Martin’s fault. Martin has doomed Malcolm to avoid the deep, meaningful relationships in life that Malcolm clearly craves. 

5:25 - “I’m absolutely right” The anger in Malcolm’s voice is incredible and concerning. On one hand, it’s great that he’s being honest with Martin. He’s making Martin work for his trust and he’s communicating that Martin ruined certain aspects of Malcolm’s life. On the other hand, this boy has no sense of self-preservation. He’s provoking a predatory psychopath. He’s almost begging Martin to hurt him. I’m terrified at what that means for Malcolm’s mental health. 

5:35 - “Don’t you ever think it’s possible that I changed?” Look at Martin’s big stupid face. He doesn’t believe that he’s changed. He’s just trying to manipulate Malcolm. Martin doesn’t view Malcolm as a son. Just as a plaything. 

5:55 - “You want to find a missing woman. That’s your brilliant plan?” It’s an excellent plan. It’s a plan Martin knows Malcolm won’t be able to deny. Martin has observed Malcolm’s obsession with understanding serial killers for 23 years. Martin has watched Malcolm torture himself to save the victims of serial killers. Martin knows this is the one plan that will (at least temporarily) stop Malcolm from turning him in. Malcolm’s need to help other people is stronger than his need to help himself. So again, Martin is a shitty father. 

6:19 - “I worked the Woodsman case at the bureau for years.” Of course he did. $100 bucks says Martin knew that and he planned this out before his escape. Capshaw was an inconvenient hiccup in the plan but he was always going to kidnap Malcolm and try to manipulate Malcolm into becoming his partner in crime. 

6:42 - “Someone who’s not going to call Gil Arroyo the first chance he gets.” Damn. Martin feels threatened by Gil’s relationship with Malcolm. Which is why an escaped!Martin and Gil showdown would’ve made my year. 

6:46 - How convenient that Jeannie is from New York. 

6:52 - “But we could save her. Together.” Ugh. This breaks my heart. You can see that Malcolm knows Martin is manipulating him. You can also see that this is an offer Malcolm can’t deny. Saving people and finding/understanding killers is what keeps Malcolm sane. PLUS he desperately wants to spend time with the ‘nice’ version of his dad. The one he remembers from 1998. Malcolm is eating out of the palm of Martin’s hand and it’s so so so upsetting. 

7:01 - Why does Gary look so much like Deputy Crutchfield? It’s the moustache. 

7:10 - “This is my partner. Cameron.” UGh. I’m going to throw up. 1) Malcolm’s startled expression melts my heart. This boy does not want to be Martin’s partner in any sense of the word.  2) Was Martin implying that Cameron is Clare’s sexual partner? The hand around Malcolm’s shoulders made it feel that way to me. 

7:15 - Ugh. :( The way Malcolm looks at the hand on his shoulder. :( You can see how conflicted he feels. He likes the gentle, fatherly physical affection from Martin but he knows that Martin is a killer and this is an act. You can see that Malcolm knows this is all a hoax but you can also see how desperately Malcolm wants to believe in it. 

7:45 - OMG. This is a man who hasn’t been in public for a very long time. This is not socially acceptable behaviour and Malcolm looks so embarrassed and scared (that someone will recognize the serial killer making loud noises of pleasure over his pancakes). 

7:55 - I love that Malcolm isn’t eating. It aligns with Malcolm’s canonical eating problems. Kudos for the rare plot consistency.

8:13 - “I suppose I’m a little bisexual.” Ugh. Shut up Martin. You absolute moron. You’re not bisexual. You’re just a manipulative nutcase. It does make me wonder though, is this Martin’s way of trying to bond with Malcolm? Like maybe (whether it’s true or not) Martin thinks Malcolm might not be straight and he’s trying to have a father-son coming out of the closet moment? .....it sounds like a reach even in my head but here I am with this theory.

8:39 - The fact that Martin is such a verbal feminist throughout this show is so off putting to me. He’s a serial killer. He has no issues MURDERING people for FUN. Yet somehow it feels like I’m supposed to respect him more than the average man because he believes women are people with rights? Nah. It makes me hate him more because I don’t thinks he’s an actual feminist. I think he’s acting. He’s trying to appeal to what will make him seem more likeable. I think it’s a tactic he uses to soften Malcolm to his manipulation. 

8:48 - “I worked this case for years. Almost lost my mind over it.”........okay so I want more details on this. Did the FBI take him off the case? Did he stop working the case because he was fired? Did Gil watch Malcolm become consumed by the case and beg him to take himself off the case? 

8:52 - “I called every number at the FBI. You wanted nothing to do with me.” I hate Martin. He’s trying to blame Malcolm. He’s suggesting that more women could have been saved from the Woodsman if Malcolm hadn’t been ignoring Martin while he worked for the FBI. Martin is actually implying that the Woodsman could have been caught years ago if Malcolm wasn’t such a bad son. 

8:57 - “...such anger issues. Still do.” I’m going to punch him. I hate Martin. He’s mentally torturing our mental-fragile baby and he’s having fun doing it. Malcolm looks absolutely wrecked and my heart is shattering. Someone needs to give Malcolm a hug. Yesterday. 

8:59 - This moment has been giffed but damn is it worth pointing out again. The way Malcolm is self-soothing with his left hand while his right hand shakes is gorgeous. It really shows the depth of Malcolm’s inner conflict. I’m in love with this moment. Give Tom Payne an Emmy. Please.

9:13 - “There’s no time, my boy.” Every word that comes out of Martin’s mouth is calculated and manipulative. He has Malcolm exactly where he wants him and I hate it. 

10:05 - I’m 90% sure Martin already knows who the Woodsman is. He’s just playing dumb so he can screw with Malcolm’s head for longer.

10:17 - YES MALCOLM. Stand up to Martin. I love it. It also makes me worry about Malcolm’s mental health but I think we can all agree that Malcolm’s been on a downward spiral for months. At this point, our boy is not going to start improving his mental state until he hits rock bottom. 

10:19 - Martin actually looks shocked when Malcolm demands he earn his trust. Like it never occurred to him that Malcolm might be willing to rebuild the trust to begin with. 

10:30 - This whole scene between Gil and Ruiz is genuinely one of my top scenes of this episode (maybe even of the season). “The media will crucify him” “You might as well issue a shoot on sight order” “This isn’t a joke” “He has his demons but he’s not his father.” “I’ll stake my career on it.” This is one of the purest Papa!Gil scenes of the season and Malcolm isn’t even present. I love how Gil is literally willing to put his entire career on the line for Malcolm. I love how Gil is fighting for Malcolm in a public setting. Look at how the whole precinct watches the exchange. Gil is putting himself on the line in front of an entire precinct of people who respect him out of love for Malcolm. <3 <3 <3 

10:47 - “If he’s still alive.” If. Gil is terrified. Gil is losing hope. This isn’t like Watkins. Gil knows how desperately Malcolm wants Martin’s love and Gil knows that compromises Malcolm’s ability to profile his way out of a dangerous situation. Gil knows that Martin will kill Malcolm. Maybe not today, this week, or this year but it’s part of Martin’s plan. Gil knows that even if Martin doesn’t kill Malcolm - he’s capable of taking Malcolm away forever. Maybe by going on the run but maybe just because he tormented Malcolm to the point where Malcolm regresses to the scared 10-year old that Gil worked so hard to help. Gil knows Malcolm won’t survive that kind of trauma again. At least not mentally. Gil is terrified and I’m in awe. 

11:05 - “C’mon kid. Where the hell are you?” Hear that? It’s my heart shattering into a million pieces because this is the type of father Malcolm deserves. The fatherly concern Gil has for Malcolm is everything to me. 

11:20 - “Damn his daughter’s smoking.” hahahaha the irony. 

11:24 - Why am I so shocked and delighted that Malcolm has an NYPD ID? <3 It makes perfect sense that he’d have one but now I have these headcanons of Gil taking Malcolm around to the accounting office, and the administration offices to get him set up at the NYPD and my heart can’t handle how cute it is. 

12:12 - “You brought egg salad.” Ugh. These guys are so artificially in love and it grosses me out. 

12:54 - See what I mean? Crutchfield looks like Gary from the motel. I can’t unsee it. 

13:12 - Look another moment where Gil is CLEARLY thinking “this family I swear” hahahaha this man is so done with life today 

13:44 - “I know that look Jess.” <3 Aww....they’re practically married. <3 Jokes aside, this is amazing. Jessica respects Gil and she stops her plans when she notices the look on Gil’s face. She knows he’s not trying to control her - he’s trying to protect her and her children. He loves them and he’s trying to lighten her load. 

15:00 - “It’s your Lieutenant.” there’s a split second when you can see the hope, confusion, and fear clouding Malcolm’s face. For just a moment he thinks Gil is on the phone. Then the deputy says “Clare” and Malcolm’s expression transforms into one of annoyance and disgust. 

15:20 - “I didn’t have a credit card.” BAHAHAHAHAHA can we all just agree that talking about porn with your adult children is gross?

15:27 - This. Is. The. Worst. Thing. That. Could. Happen. The headline says “Son of Martin Whitly” and then later we find out Malcolm BRIGHT is on a wanted poster. Malcolm’s privacy from the press has been compromised. His life has been compromised. Nothing will ever be the same. This is bad for Malcolm’s already fragile mental health. His flimsy sense of safety has been forcibly removed and the public is going to crucify him again. Just for being Martin Whitly’s son. People are going to Google him. They’re going to find out he went to Harvard, that he was fired from the FBI, that he has mental health problems (although, Ainsley already exposed that). 

15:52 - Damn. It should be illegal for someone’s wanted picture to be that attractive (and I say that as an asexual).

16:00 - “You need a minute?” I love LOVE this interaction between JT and Dani. You can see that JT is a little unsure of how to talk to Dani because he loves her like a little sister and he knows she loves Bright. It’s adorable. <3 Big brother JT is my favourite JT. 

16:17 - “I like the guy.” UGH. I’m going to go sob in the corner. <3 <3 This line is AMAZING for two (2) reasons. 1) JT is admitting that he likes Malcolm. The bromance is real and I’m here for it. 2) This is JT subtly telling Dani that he knows she likes Bright as more than a friend and it’s not a bad thing. Malcolm isn’t a bad person and he can understand why she’s attracted to the annoying little dude. <3 

16:35 - Why is Ainsley working with Dani and JT? Does she actually want to find them? I still think she’s somehow involved in this. 

16:48 - “Did you steal this truck?!?” Good boy Malcolm. Don’t trust him. 

17:05 - Martin’s biggest mistake: he underestimated how devoted Malcolm is to his ‘mission’. He wasn’t able to manipulate and subdue Malcolm as quickly as he would’ve liked and now his plan is unravelling because Malcolm is snapping out of his ‘Martin might be good’ trance. 

17:19 - “I’m calling Gil. I should’ve known.” <3 I have no words. Just joy.

17:45 - “I do not want my son getting killed because of it.” LIES. Martin tried to kill Malcolm because of it when Malcolm was 10 years old. Martin didn’t care when Malcolm was bullied, shunned, and literally locked in a closet because of Martin. Martin didn’t care that the weight of his crimes destroyed his son’s childhood and continued mental health. Martin. Doesn’t. Care. The problem? Malcolm so so desperately wants to believe that Martin cares about him. You can convince yourself of almost anything if you want to badly enough. 

18:13 - Annnnnd Martin’s plan is back on. He’s lied his way back into Malcolm’s tentative good graces and the manipulation is still in full force. 

18:18 - The parallel that Martin is going on a stakeout with Malcolm right now and the fact that Gil used to take Malcolm on stakeouts as a kid is overwhelming. Do you think Martin knew about those stakeouts? Is this Martin’s way of trying to prove to Malcolm that he’s a better father than Gil?

18:33 - I DO NOT LIKE THIS. I DO NOT LIKE THIS. I DO NOT LIKE THIS. Capshaw is crazy and I don’t like her alone with my queen Jessica. #stressed

18:37 - “Believe me, I understand.” Ugh. Someone (preferably Gil) hug Jessica. This woman has been repressing her emotions for too long. :( 

18:56 - Ooooooooohhhhhh Capshaw just made the biggest mistake of her life. This woman is actively trying to convince the world that Malcolm is just like Martin Whitly and then she said as much to his mother’s FACE. I’m here for the lady fight. Say what you want, but vicious girl fights are so much more entertaining than dudes who just hit each other. 

19:29 - Bitch. Jessica regularly mixes pills with alcohol. Research your victim, moron. This isn’t going to work. 

19:56 - “You. Always you.” .....isn’t that what Malcolm said to Eve? Ew. ALSO the way Martin dismisses Malcolm’s admittance is very upsetting. If he wanted to prove that he’s a good father he should really pretend to care. At least a little. 

20:25 - As far as Martin is concerned, this is a victory. His son trusts him enough to let him out of the car - unsupervised. Martin’s plan is working (as far as Martin knows anyways. Malcolm is still definitely conflicted).

20:43 - I love that Malcolm keeps calling for “Martin”. Not “Dad”. Not “Dr. Whitly” (that would be bad on account of the manhunt). Just “Martin”. This goes back to Malcolm not knowing who “Martin” is to him He’s still trying to figure it out. Hell, he only resorts to calling him “Clare” when he thinks it’s the only way Martin will get back in the truck. 

21:15 - “What the hell is he doing?” EXCELLENT question. Seriously - did this moron not recognize the Surgeon and his son? There’s a literal manhunt for these two right now. It’s all over the news. It was playing on the precinct TV only a few hours ago. WHY DID CRUTCHFIELD NOT CALL ANYONE ABOUT THEIR IDENTITIES?!? Isn’t it protocol to call the NYPD about this or a hotline? I’m sure it said as much on the wanted flyers and the news.

22:05 - I’m honestly so stressed that Jessica is tipsy and drugged right now. 

22:35 - “Back then I wasn’t a good judge of character. Now I can sniff them out a mile away.” UGH. This honestly gives me PTSD. My mom says the same thing. She married an abusive man and now she claims she’s self-aware and is an excellent judge of character (spoiler alert: she’s not). My mom is about as good at it as Jessica. I mean, anyone remember Endicott? Or Eve? 

23:06 - “What was that Jessie?” OMG. I hate Capshaw more with each passing moment. 

23:16. - GIL. OH THANK GOD. JESSICA IS GOING TO BE OKAY. EVERYTHING IS GOING TO BE OKAY. JESSICA DIDN’T GO LONE RANGER ON THIS. 

23:34 - Is that a picture of baby Malcolm on the mantle? <3 So cute. <3

24:10 - This bitch is going to jail for a looooonnnng time. Gil Arroyo and Jessica Whitly just heard her admit to torturing their son. She’s going to suffer. I’m happy about it.

24:28 - “Daddy. Daddy.” My heart is breaking. This is a real insecurity that Jessica has about Malcolm. She feels like she’s not enough for Malcolm. That’s why he keeps visiting Martin. That’s why Malcolm was so attached to Gil and Jackie as a kid (and now). Jessica feels inadequate as a mother. That probably contributes to how she emotionally neglects Ainsley. She’s afraid of trying and failing to be enough for both of her children. So she denies herself the possibility of failure by throwing the match. 

25:07 - Jessica and Malcolm studying Krav Maga together. Headcannon accepted. My heart swells at the thought. 

26:12 - Anyone else think it’s interesting that the picture of baby Ainsley was smashed over Jessica’s head. It just feels too convenient. It has to be some sort of hidden message. Does it mean that Ainsley’s the one who is going to destroy the family? Does it mean Ainsley’s working with Capshaw (or Martin)? It has to mean something. Right?!?

26:34 - “I meant for her sake.” I love Gil. He’s not threatened by the fact that Jessica is a badass. Hell, he thinks it hot. Weak men are intimidated by strong women. Gil’s a keeper. 

26:46 - WHUMP. <3

27:15 - This wasn’t part of Martin’s plan but I do genuinely think Martin’s not nearly as scared as he’s acting. 

27:38 - Why doesn’t JT introduce Ainsley? Because she’s not law enforcement and she’s not technically supposed to be there?

27:56 - Damn. Ainsley is desperate for attention from anyone. I bet you that’s why she became a reporter. People have to listen to you when your face is on their TV reporting the news. 

29:41 - JT is triggered. :( This is PTSD. The last time a gun was pointed at him it was extremely traumatic “I’m a father. I’m a good man and I am not a threat to you.” :( Someone hug him. 

29:57 - “But she is.” <3 DAMN. Badass!Dani for the win. <3 

30:34 - “Predatory psychopath married an emotionally compromised enabler.” Is this a comment on Jessica and Martin’s marriage? Jessica didn’t consciously enable Martin but her rich lifestyle and the things she was willing to overlook to maintain appearances definitely gave Martin more leeway than he should have had. 

30:48 - “You haven’t been in my league for decades.” Yep. Now Martin wants to kill Don. He didn’t need Malcolm to beg him to hurt Don. Martin was already chomping at the bit. 

32:00 - “NO.” Malcolm’s not his father. Even now he doesn’t want anyone to get hurt. He tries to protect everyone from physical harm. Even serial killers. That’s a good man. 

32:30 - I hated this speech from Ainsley. It felt....artificial? I just can’t see Ainsley actually believing that her Mother is light, kind, and good when she clearly resents her Mother for paying so much attention to Malcolm and neglecting her. This whole speech just felt really out of character to me. It felt like Ainsley was pulling a Malcolm - saying whatever she needed to get the suspect to confess to the truth. 

33:43 - “I can’t. Not anymore.” Bullshit. Martin clearly wants to hurt this guy. He just refuses to do it until Malcolm begs. Also, it feels like the show is trying to suggest that this is Malcolm giving into the ‘darkness’ that Ainsley was referring to. I disagree. This is typical Malcolm - consumed by the need to save a victim and solve the case. This is the guy who chopped off a guy’s hand to save his life, the guy who tried to infiltrate a cult to save Andi, the guy who tried climbed out of an elevator shaft to arrest a serial killer. Malcolm just doesn’t care about himself and his mental health isn’t doing so great. That doesn’t mean he’s becoming a killer. He’s not ‘going dark’.

34:40 - “Please. I’m asking as your son.” This wrecked me. 1) Malcolm looks so utterly destroyed here. Anguish is all over his face. You can see him grasping at straws because he’s so desperate to save Jeannie. He’s willing to compromise the idea that his Dad may have changed. Malcolm knows Martin hasn’t changed but asking him to do this will make it real and kill Malcolm’s desperate fantasy of a bio-dad who loves him. 2) Martin is a piece of shit. You can see how utterly delighted he is when Malcolm begs and refers to himself as Martin’s son. Martin views Malcolm as a possession and it delights him to hear Malcolm confirm that possession (”I’m asking as you son.”)

35:00 - Okay. His hand isn’t shaking but look at him. You can’t tell me he’s enjoying this. He looks terrified, guilty, nauseous and I don’t think it’s because he’s suddenly realizing that he and Martin are the same. I think it’s because he just compromised his moral code to save a total stranger. He somehow found it in himself to favour a Jeannie over Don. Yes - Don is a serial killer. Yes - Jeannie is his victim. So, yeah - picking Jeannie over Don is logical but does that make it right? That’s what Malcolm is struggling with. That AND the fact that he just asked his Dad to hurt someone - the screaming is probably bringing back suppressed childhood PTSD from that camping trip in the woods. 

35:13 - Another crazy theory for why Malcolm’s hand isn’t shaking. Have you ever been so so so scared/stressed/anxious that you felt nothing? Seriously - it’s like your brain just shuts down everything but life support and your body goes on autopilot. I honestly think that could be happening to Malcolm as a way to cope with the stress. 

35:20 - This is Martin pretending to be tormented and I HATE HIM FOR IT. He’s playing with our broken boy and I despise him for it. Hasn’t Malcolm suffered enough?!?!

36:04 - Something tells me that Don’s testimony will be vital to clearing Malcolm’s name next season (yes, I’m in complete denial that this show is cancelled). 

37:03 - This hurts. Martin is comforting Jeannie and it’s bringing back childhood memories for Malcolm. Memories of a Dad who used to read him bedtime stories and tuck him into bed at night. Memories that are tainted with the knowledge that Martin is a serial killer. Look at how sad Malcolm is. He’s fully accepting that Martin hasn’t changed and that he never will. He’s letting go of the desperate hope that Martin might love him the way he remembers as a child. He’s remembering that the love he experienced as a child was all a hoax on Martin’s part to begin with. 

37:07 - WHEN DID MALCOLM GET A PHONE??!?! WTF. 

37:14 - “The bad man is gone now.” Except he’s not. He’s always been here. He didn’t change. He just tried to be cleverer than his son. It failed. 

37:52 - Do you know what would have made this scene even more powerful? A flashback to the phone call baby Malcolm made to 911 in 1998. 

38:08 - NOW Martin is Dr.Whitly because Malcolm has fully accepted that Martin = The Surgeon = Dr. Whitly. They’re all the same and they all suck.

38:33 - “Maybe I need to work on that.” <3 <3 Yes, get sober sweetheart. Your dependance on alcohol and pills is not healthy. 

38:45 - This Gillica moment will live forever in my heart. I swear I’ve never shipped to people so hard while fully wanting them to be my parents. 

38:51 - OMG. Of fucking course it’s Edrisa. <3 hahahahaha

39:29 - The fact that Malcolm gave Jeannie his jacket is so cute to me. Just more proof that Malcolm’s a good guy. 

39:57 - Looks like the Claremont cardio program is lacking. (I’m so mean).

40:08 - I love this whole exchange between Martin and Malcolm. 1) I fully believe that Martin is genuinely upset that Malcolm turned him in (the dude doesn’t want to go back to prison - fair enough). 2) Malcolm just looks so broken as he listens to his father rant. You can see how bad Malcolm feels for turning his own father over to the cops. Again. The guilt is consuming Malcolm. Very bad for his flimsy mental health. 

40:22 - “You made me become him again.” Okay. Stay in your lane Martin. Let’s not victim blame here. You’re a monster. You’ve been manipulating Malcolm all day and you’re still at it. You wanted to hurt Don but you want to hurt Malcolm more. 

41:11 - “This world isn’t for you.” My heart is shattering. You can hear the pain in Malcolm’s voice. This isn’t a conversation anyone should have to have with a parents. Especially not when you’re already wracked with guilt and mental health issues that you’re not coping with.

41:20 - “Dad. Listen to me. I’m trying to save you.” THIS. THIS is the show. For two years we’ve watched Malcolm try to empathize and understand killers because he’s desperate to save his father and alleviate his guilt for turning Martin in. 

42:00 - “I was a good father. But you, you were never a good son.” ...............this is bad. Shit. This. Is. Bad. This is going to torment Malcolm for the rest of his life. He is going to constantly question “should I have been nicer to Ainsley? Should I have been more obedient? Should I have shown more of an interest in medicine? Would that have stopped that from killing? Did he kill because I wasn’t a good enough son?” Logically Malcolm will know none of that is true but it won’t matter because pain isn’t always logical. 

42:26 - 1) Damn. This family is stabby. 2) holy shit holy shit holy shit. 3) I’m shook. I fully expected it but I’m still shook. It was self defence but that won’t matter. Sure, there’s a 90% chance that Malcolm won’t suffer legally for this but there’s a 100% chance this is going to ruin Malcolm’s life. The guilt is going to swallow him whole. His mental health is going. to reach an all time low. The media will crucify him. No one will look at him the same. He won’t be able to go anywhere without people making assumptions about him. He’s going to be transported back to 1998 - this time with more trauma. It’s not going to be good (and I’m ecstatic at the thought of it because I’m an emotional whump whore). 

42:40 - His hand’s not shaking. I honestly think it’s because he’s in shock because Malcolm still looks like hell. He’s dissociating. If this triggers a mute!Malcolm episode I’m going to be the most excited person in the world. 

42:46 - “I was right. We’re the same.” This was Martin’s master plan. He knew once he escaped Claremont there was no going back. He didn’t want to go back to prison so he found a way to get himself killed (I’m assuming this kills Martin because that’s a lot of blood). No only did he plan to either 1) be on the run forever or 2) die trying  - he made sure that he could torment Malcolm as much as possible along the way. This sentence is going to destroy Malcolm. That sentence has been his greatest fear for 23 years. Now he thinks it’s true. It doesn’t matter that he stabbed out of self-defence. Fear isn’t logical. This is a big problem. 

43:12 - “Bright? What did you do?!?” ..................It’s been 3 days and I still can’t handle this sentence. You can see the shock on Dani’s face and the fear in Malcolm’s eyes. He looks like a cornered animal. He thinks she’s going to arrest him - he knows she has to. He thinks he just ruined his chances at a happy ending with Dani. He’s realizing all at once just how bad his life is about to get. AND DANI - she doesn’t believe he’s a killer but that doesn’t mean she’s not scared for him. The dude looks like he’s in the middle of a mental breakdown plus the legal issues - it’s not going to be a good day. 

I CAN’T BELIEVE THE SEASON ENDED LIKE THIS. I HATE IT. I LOVE IT. I’M CONFLICTED. I HAVE SO MANY FEELINGS. I WANT CLOSURE AND THIS JUST GAVE ME MORE QUESTIONS. UGH. THANK GOD FOR AO3. 

I sincerely hope another network picks us up for a third season - I’ll be back if they do. If not - thanks for hanging out with me. I’ve had fun and this show will always have home in my heart. 

[keepingupwithfundies]

BuB Season 10 Episodes 4-7

It’s a rainy long weekend here, and I managed to catch up on the Bringing Up Bates recaps. From Christmas to making plans for Valentine’s Day, the Bates family is quite busy with four babies on the way and three budding romances. 

-T

*Episode 4: 'Tis the Season For Surprises

Katie is teaching Ellie, Addee and Callie how to curl their hair. Katie says she is the only older girl in the house right now, and so she wanted to do a fun bonding activity. Ellie, Addee and Callie are not sure about learning themselves, but Katie says they should learn now before she leaves. The girls say they will miss Katie, but Callie is looking forward to having her own closet in the girls room. Travis will be coming soon, and Kelly says engagement is inevitable. His sister is recently engaged as well. Kelly asks Katie if they have any timeline, and Katie says she'll know when Travis talks to her dad, since he'll tell her mom and her mom will tell her. Everyone laughs, but agrees that Kelly isn't great at secrets. Kelly says Nathan is bringing his girlfriend as well, and everyone is excited to meet them. Katie is glad the pressure will be shared. The family will be spending Christmas all together, since Alyssa is due in February, they're not sure she can make Valentines.

Meanwhile, the guys get to work decorating the house outside of the house. Jackson is just back from Alert and wants to get the lights up. Jackson is glad to be home for Christmas after Alert, and Zach is there to see Jackson but got put to work on the lights. Nathan pulls up with Esther, and the family is excited to meet them. The work stops, and everyone rushes over to meet her. Esther is excited to meet everyone, and Whitney in particular is glad to meet them. Esther is also from a big family, and she says "the more the merrier!"

The couples (also Trace) gather for a bonfire, and also for a chance to meet Esther. Nathan teasingly makes Carlin move so he can sit next to Esther. Everyone works together to try to start the fire, and John jokes that the fire just needs "more people with more ideas to get it going." Eventually it starts burning, and Carlin asks for Nathan and Esther's story. They met at a mutual friends wedding, and Nathan thought she had the bluest eyes he'd ever seen. A week went by of them chatting, and Nathan wanted to be more than friends, and they kept talking everyday. Esther told him she wanted to be with him as well, and they've been talking for about a year. They waited a bit to go public, but they seem very happy. Carlin says she wanted to support them, and they're all glad that Nathan is so happy. Nathan asked Esther to be his girlfriend on her birthday, and Nathan says they'll see about the timelines but Nathan knows Esther is the one. Nathan genuinely seems thrilled, and the night is a success.

At Zach and Whitney's, they are decorating gingerbread men for a gender reveal. Whitney says she is excited for their fourth baby, and the plan is to give blue or pink cookies as a gift to the grandparents at the Christmas family photos. There is going to be multiple announcements at that time, Zach says. Bradley hopes for a boy, and Kaci wants a girl (shocker). Whitney is excited to tell everyone at the party.

Josie and Kelton arrive at a parking garage to do their gender reveal with Willow. Josie is excited to share that they're having another baby, and they don't know if it is a boy or a girl. They are going to find out by doing a photo shoot with her friend. This time, they wanted it to just be their little family finding out together. So, they twist the poppers and celebrate, but the episode doesn't show the color. They plan to tell everyone at the Christmas party.

It is time for the Christmas party, and Kelly says they have tried to be careful during covid (ok) and so Tori's family is sick and unable to make it, but everyone else was healthy and there. Zach and Whitney get their cookies ready, and then it is time to head out for pictures. The family pictures begin, and then it is time for the big family photo. It is very cold out, but the family gathers together for the photos. Then, it is announcement time. Josie goes first, and gives her father-in-law a gift. It is an ornament, and one side says "Baby Girl" and the other says "Hazel Sloane Balka." Everyone celebrates. Zach and Whitney go next, but Zach gives them one without color first as a prank, and then they get the cookie with the blue frosting. Bradley is so happy to have a brother. Erin is announcing on behalf of Tori and Bobby, and Kelly is excited to learn they are having a girl named Charlotte Raine. Everyone gets out of the cold, and Gil gathers the family to talk about Jesus. The family then sings carols. Gil says there are four new babies on the way, and two new relationships in the works, and there is a lot to celebrate.

*Episode 5: Home Sweet Home & Nathan's Love

Michael is at Tori and Bobby's new house, and Zach, Whitney and kids walk over to knock on the door. They are excited to be neighbors. Bobby says it was time to look for a house, and they haven't had a lot of luck until Whitney let them know the house two doors down went for sale. Bobby and Tori jumped on it, and they got the house since the original homeowners loved Zach and Whitney. The cousins are so excited to be close, and Bradley in particular is excited. Tori has asked Erin and Chad to decorate the house. Bobby has been working from home, so he has a desk in the bonus room that will eventually be Charlotte's. The boys have a room, and then Tori shows of their room. Brandon and Michael are thrilled for the new homeowners, and Bobby and Tori are so excited to be close to the family again.

The family goes on an outing to the zoo, which is one of Kelly's favorite places, for Layla's first birthday. Everyone is wearing masks, and Carlin is excited for Layla to see the animals. The family walks through the zoo. Kelly says the monkeys are her favorite, since they're so active. Carlin says she can't believe Layla is a year old, and she remembers all the memories they have made. Carlin says that Layla is their sunshine, and they are obsessed.

Alyssa and John are getting ready for their new arrival, and Alyssa says you would think they would be ready but technology keeps advancing and they keep getting cooler new items. Alyssa says this time around, she will be in the hospital with a doctor instead of a birth center with a midwife. The hospital rules are strict because of Covid, so Gil and Kelly will have to meet the baby at home. They set up their swing, and Alyssa says they have reversed the order with having kids young so that they will be able to enjoy their adult kids and grandkids younger too.

At the Bates Sisters Boutique location, Chad and Zach are working on getting everything functional for the boutique. Whitney says they are lucky trying to run a small business with all the talents in their family. The sisters arrive, and they are impressed with all the work that has been done. Erin says she has been sick and missed a lot of what has been going on, but she is excited to get to be part of the progress now. They go into another room to discuss the location of the photo shoot wall, since that is very important to their online branding. Erin suggests a location, and talks about how to turn the storefront area into an actual storefront. Everyone is excited by how far the boutique has come in such a short time, and they are excited to see where it will go.  

Zach is back to doing tree work with the family, and he says it is like no time has passed. Nathan is there, and he says he isn't home very much but it is satisfying getting to do tree work with his siblings. Zach says he forgot how much work tree work is, and Zach says he wants to be 56 and moving around like his dad instead of 33 and moving around like he is. Carlin says her dad is getting older,  but he is still the man. Jud and Jeb joke that is is getting too old. The tree job goes smoothly, and the guys start talking about Esther. Nathan says he wants to be with her forever, and he is thinking about the ring. Nathan thinks about a spring engagement and a fall wedding. Nathan says he is ready to change her from a girlfriend to a fiance. Nathan wants to fly her to the Bahamas, and they talk about ideas, but Nathan says he thinks he should run them by some girls to get their opinions. They get back to work, so Nathan can catch his flight out.

*Episode 6: A DIY Date and a Delivery Day

Erin and Chad and Bobby and Tori are on a couples getaway in Gatlinburg. It was a gift to them from Kelly and Gil for Christmas. While there, Erin has brought them to a place called Board & Brush, where you get to DIY home decor. First up, they begin distressing their wood. Then, they stain it. They talk about Tori's pregnancy- she is just about halfway, and feeling good. Chad asks Bobby about having a girl, and they are excited. The instructor spends some time showing them how to use the drill, which Tori thinks is useful for herself and Bobby, but not that useful for Chad. Chad tells them about the boutique project, and they are looking forward to moving in in a week. They complete their projects, and Tori is excited about hanging it up in their house.

Alyssa is preparing for her baby, and she has her daughters pack their bags to get ready for when the baby comes. John comes in to help them, and he says being a girl dad is a lot of fun. Alyssa starts handing out plastic bag filled with outfits for them to go. They finish packing, and Alyssa says they picked the name Maci Jo, Maci they just liked and Jo is for her mother and grandmother Betty Jo. Kelly is super excited to have a grandchild named for her, and says she can't stop saying the name.

Effortless Beauty Co is doing a stylized shoot at Castleton Farms, and they are thrilled about the opportunity. Katie gets to work on makeup, and she makes conversation with the models about looking forward to her wedding. Katie says she is ready for the ring. The shoot goes well, the bride loves her makeup, and Katie says she can't wait until she gets to be in the client chair.

Brandon and Michael arrive at Zach & Whitney's, bearing lasagna and homemade bread. Zach and Whitney are thrilled to get to enjoy Michael's lasagna. Zach & Whit's house is crazy, since the boutique is taking up half their house right now. Michael talks about her sewing business, which took the back burner during school but it is growing fast. Michael is volunteering at children's hospital for now while she figures out what is next. Everyone agrees that it was a fun dinner and they need to do it more.

Alyssa calls her mom, and says she thinks she is in labor. Alyssa wants to give her mom some time to make plans. Alyssa is just in early labor but she wants her parents to start heading their way so they can meet Maci. Alyssa gets everything ready to go, but now she is wondering if it is labor or not. Alyssa starts walking because she just wants labor to get going so she can be done. Alyssa has usually had shorter labors, but this one is taking its time. Alyssa has been having contractions for a while, and so she is heading to the hospital to see if they can help her progress. In the hospital, Alyssa gets an epidural and is making quick progress. The doctor lets John help deliver the baby, and he is thrilled he got to help.  Alyssa is pleased with her hospital experience, but she is excited to go home and introduce Maci to everyone. Gil and Kelly arrive in Florida to meet Maci. Everyone is thrilled for the Webster family and wants to meet Maci.

*Episode 7: Lawson's New Love and the Boutique's New Digs!?

Chad has been working on an old camper since he loved camping as a kid and he wants to do it with his family. The camper is old, but it has good bones and they are completely redoing it. They step inside the camper and talk about what they want to change. Gil and Kelly joke that they are going to make the camper incredible like they always do. Erin says that with 2020, they look forward to getting out there and making new memories all together.

Kelly is preparing for Valentine's Day, but Kelly isn't as prepared as she usually is. Nathan and Lawson walk in, and Kelly says they need to pick about the theme. They debate different ideas, and Katie walks over to get involved. One of the little kids suggested animals, and Kelly facetimes their group text and Zach gets on to share his opinion. They joke that no matter what, Zach will come as a cowboy again, and Lawson jokes that he will be a better cowboy. Zach says he won't, since he doesn't have a girlfriend-and Kelly says Lawson actually might have some news in that department. Zach asks if he is bringing Nathan again, and Lawson says he has upgraded in the beauty department. Kelly says Lawson was traveling a lot to California, and she thought he was working but she then learned that there was a girl in California that he liked. Everyone agrees on the animal theme, and Kelly is glad to start getting to work on the party.

It is Boutique moving day, and there is a lot of clothes being transported to the new location. There was a huge moving sale where 5,000 dresses where sold which enabled them to move. It was a huge group effort to move the product. Trace and Chad load up a truck load to take to the new location, and then the team goes into the new location. Everyone is so excited by the new space- Chad has built a beautiful packaging station for the boutique. There is a lot of work still to go, but they are excited for the new space for their store.

Lawson and Trace are looking for Duke, Lawson's dog. Trace jokes that Duke likes Trace better than Lawson since he is spending more time with him. Lawson is preparing to take him to training for a few months. Jackson comes out on the porch, and he has unfortunately broken his arm snowboarding in Colorado. Jackson had surgery with 13 screws and two metal plates put in his arm.  Trace mentions that Tiffany was on the trip to Colorado, and he has been spending a lot of time in California. Lawson said his girlfriend Tiffany joined him on the trip. Lawson says it is early in the relationship but a great trip. Lawson says she is coming to Valentine's Day, and everyone is thrilled about that. Gil and Kelly are looking forward to spending more time with her. Nathan is glad they're both in relationships at the same time, and they are excited to see how this pans out.

[artsyxloner]

Not just a Monster

Warning: drinking

19: Another Infected

Ji-Soo laid on the recovery table fast asleep. She was still kinda pale but that will soon go away once she starts healing. The group managed to find antibiotics if she got an infection.

I would have given her some of my stuff but it burned up in the car explosion. I've been in here for a while, making sure nothing went wrong. Watching to see if her side was turning red, or started to swell.

It could get infected easily and-spread throughout her body if not watched or treated carefully. Soon Jae-Heon came in, I smiled. He was pretty badass for a man that worships God and is also a great swordsman.

( please note that this is not meant to offend anybody, my religion is Christianity )

He took a seat, laying down some white candles he brought with him. checking over Ji-Soo. I could tell something was going on between them but neither announced it yet. I guess in a world like this it was hard to.

" What are the candles for?" I questioned but waited as he lit them with a lighter. Clasping his hands together he bowed his head and began to Pray. Watching him, I haven't prayed in a long time.

I use to think what was the point, thinking it wouldn't do any good since I did a terrible sin. But seeing how Jae-Heon is still keeping his faith even after killing monsters it was the same difference.

Killing is killing.

If I ask for forgiveness will it help? will I finally stop feeling guilty and move on? Will I be able to forgive myself? I wish I knew what to do I was uncertain. But I closed my eyes and bowed my head.

Dear lord

I know I shouldn't be asking for your forgiveness... but please lift me of the sin I committed and if possible I could somehow forgive myself someday and in hopes, they can too. let my family Rest In Peace.

I finished reopening my eyes, I jumped a little realizing Jae-Heon was watching me. " God will forgive you Soo-Nico for whatever you've done." He reassured me, I felt my heart was weighing heavy.

I had to ask since he's was the only one that I could talk about religion. " how are you so sure?" Was he going to forgive me? For something as terrible as that? Jae-Heon had a knowing look on his face. " Because he's a merciful God,"

With that answer, I nodded, " I don't mean to pry but what were you praying about." I wanted to ask, I probably seem nosy. I saw him glance at Ji-Soo," for someone to live a long, healthy, happy life."

Now it was my turn to give some words of encouragement. " They will," it was short and simple but effective. Jae-Heon patted my shoulder. " you're a good kid, I'll watch over her. you should go eat something to build up your strength,"

he informed, me I had to laugh, now that he mentioned it I was pretty hungry. Rubbing my stomach I got up, bowing. Leaving the room, heading to go get something to eat.

His words somehow made me feel better. They were having dinner in the day-care-center walking in I had grabbed my plate sitting down beside Hye-in. I guess it was better to eat with people than being alone.

She was happily eating, away I noticed she had a white face mask on. She looked like a puffy marshmallow, it seems like they have all washed up. I needed a wash. Taking my spoon, I scooped some rice and took a bite.

" Ms. Cha, " Hye-In spoke up getting the woman's Attention, She had looked up. " I thought that you were tan but you're just really dirty." Hye-In laughed, I raised an eyebrow.

" Thanks.." Ms. Cha stared at her I couldn't believe she just said that. " I'm saying you look good now." what she didn't look better before?

" I got these masks in the mail. Want one?" Hye-in offered to pulling up her shirt, revealing a couple of packs of face masks. Well, that's one way to hide them.

" No, thanks. I know That I look pretty without it." This earned all kinds of laughs around the room. " wait, Seung-Wan needs it." Byeong-ll point making  Seung-Wan clap back defensively.

I have I admit it was pretty funny, as we chatted, Sun-Young walked up to our table she seemed nervous. I wondered what about it? " I should go outside." Before I could take another bite I stopped looking up at her. What for?

" I think I'm starting to have symptoms." that's when all the attention turned towards her. It was quiet, " I should've told you sooner." Sun-Young had a long face as if she was disappointed for not telling. " I guess I didn't want to believe it. I'm sorry."

No one can blame you it's scary finding out your showing symptoms it's like your life just has been ripped away. It's hard to accept. " I just don't want to put everyone in danger. So I should go before it's too late—"

Ms. Cha, interrupted Sun-Young, " still you shouldn't go outside." She dismissed. " she right. You're still human, you'll die if you go outside." Hye-In agreed. But Jay-Hwan thought otherwise.

" –We can't let her stay here?" I rolled my eyes, " why don't you shut up!" I fussed that's when Eun-Hyuk Entered the room. " why don't we all hold a vote?" Byeong-ll suggested a worried look was plastered on his face.

Then he all turned to us, " just vote how you feel, because this is like... taking part in a murder." I remembered those words, the day Eun-Hyuk guilt trip, everybody, to so they could vote for Hyun-Su to stay for selfish reasons.

But that was over and done with now, " I vote she gets to stay in the arcade." He raised his hand, I did also Even Seung-wan, " Me, too. Maybe she'll be able to hold out as Hyun-Su did?"

After that everyone raised their hands. I was Surprised when Eun-Hyuk's hand was raised, he has changed, well a lot of them have. It looked like Sun-Young was about to cry.

Soon everyone said their goodbyes, I felt bad she was going to be locked up. But it's what she wanted to keep everyone safe it's better than being outside.

At least they won't discriminate against her as they did to Hyun-Su and now be there for her. Things were changing for better than worse. Hopefully, it stayed that way.

After finishing my food, everybody was in a gloomy mood. They moved around sitting in different seats. " I could definitely use a drink on a day like this," Byeong-ll grumbled moving his pointer fingers around a small candle that was lit.

" There you go again." 

I didn't mine alcohol, but it sounds good right about now. Jay-Hwan told putting in one earbud," well, do you think Sun-Young will hold out like Hyun-Su?" Seung-Wan rethought his words he said earlier.

" I hope so. I thought it was just her husband, but her whole life is awful."  Hue-in announced, yeah I remember Suk-Hyun.

" lady you're face is Awful." Eun-Yoo sneered, I had to smirk, shaking my head. " well I think Byeong-all it right. We could definitely use a drink today."

Ms. Cha agreed I hadn't noticed she left, she was carrying a glass cylinder it was a beautiful dark red juice with raspberry in it.

Setting it down on the table unwrapping the top taking off the plastic wrap. " What is this Korean wine? Please tell me it is." Byeong-ll pleaded.

Everyone began to turn their heads to see. Gil-Seob sat up smelling the wine, " it's at least four years old." He looked up at Ms. cha and she nodded. He smelled it again as Eun-Yoo and I came over sitting beside each other.

" it could be as good as Medicine." I smiled, taking a glance at Eun-Yoo we were both too young but I already had some wine before but it wasn't that great but I was willing to give it another try.

Eun-Yoo Leander forward smelling it, " Yu-ri left early by the way." She informed him, she then moved pushing the Cylinder to me. " go on," she smiled I did to smelling it. God that smelled so sweet, my mouth watered.

" shall we finish this off before Eun-Hyuk comes?" She suggested, talking about her brother. Gil-Seob stuck his pinky in the jar getting a taste. We all began to laugh.

But stopped seeing Eun-Hyuk, he had a straight face, considering he was the leader he made the choices around here shit. " speak of the devil." Gil-Seob mumbled.

I was for sure he wouldn't let us drink, but to my shock he did. " just don't forget your duties." Eun-Hyuk then left, turning back around we quickly Gil-Seob began pouring the wine into small cups.

He handed them out giving me and Eun-Yoo one. I gladly Excepted it before I could take a sip Eun-Yoo nudged me. " hey, I saw you and Hyun-Su almost kiss." She whispered in my ear. My eyes went wide, feeling my whole body go stiff.

WHAT!?

I took a sip avoiding her stare, wow this was good and sweet, " don't be embarrassed you guys are cute together might as well hook up before you know what happens." She hinted, smirking at me.

I took another sip, gulping it down. Is this girl talk? From an actual friend? I wanted to be together with him and I confessed in way that was out of my comfort zone.

" Thanks... And yeah, what is better than two Infected's getting together in a world where anything and everything could go wrong." I said lowly enough just for her to hear.

She Seconded that. " his lips were this close!" I wined, showing her pinching my thumb and pointer finger together symbolizing how close were to kissing. I could feel my cheeks heat up, was I getting drunk I only took a few sips I must be lightweight.

I leaned my head on her shoulder kinda upset, she brought her hand up patting my head. " don't worry you'll get your chance, and you'll be the one to do it." She added.

I thought it over, " Me? why me?" My eyes glanced up. She huffed, " because Hyun-Su is too nervous, plus you made the first move he still wouldn't have done it if you didn't say anything." Eun-Yoo finished her cup like me.

I think that is enough Wine for today. I sat my cup down, feeling all fuzzy. Thinking about Hyun-Su's lips they were chapped and dry but it didn't matter I kiss them either way.

I then heard Eun-Yoo laugh loudly. Did I say that out loud? " you did!" She confirmed I was embarrassed hiding my face in my hands. Only me.

"All Alright!" Gil-Seob clubbed his hands together, " who's in for a story?" He recommended, " aren't we too old for stories?" Eun-Yoo stated, he only smiled. " not this one." is all he said

Taking a seat where everyone slept. We followed I laid my head on a pillow. " it was a very dark night with no moon. I lay down between the corpses and pretend to be dead, but u were watching them carefully." so this was a scary, story the Irony huh?

" the remnants of the people's army went inside the building, and the allied forces that were after them fired hundreds of shots at the building." He took the weird stick Jay-Hwan was holding and reenacted the gun fire-making Pow sounds.

He was on his knees saying it loudly but he suddenly stopped. " Hey, I know I saw them go into the building with my own two eyes," he said as if he was so sure. " they all went into the building but nobody came out of the building." I was interested now raising.

" and there were no dead bodies found. How baffling that building." He sucked in a breath looking around as if remembering something. It seems like everyone was on the edge of their seats. " Was here." Everyone gasped, raising hearing this.

" then?" Jay-Hwan gulped, " we have no idea what's buried underneath where we are. That's what I mean."

He Motioned towards the ground, " -what? -jeez." Someone asked not to believe this scared, I mentally laughed the only thing scarier than that is me in this room.

They had no idea, well except Eun-Yoo but then there was a loud bang since everyone was tense they all screamed. An unfamiliar man came running into the room wearing a black soldier suit." He came towards us seeing the jar of raspberry's sticking his hands in it eating them.

We all scooted back, Gil-Seob held up the stick ready to attack if needed. But Yi-kyeong strode in. " who are you, someone yelled. " I think he's a runaway soldier." He continued to eat, as the raspberry juice dripped on the table.

He then looked at his stained red hands, he kept mumbling something I think it was run? But from what? " quickly!" He freaked out then started shaking falling to the floor. What the hell?

Yi-kyeong grabbed onto his collar as the boys got up to help her. They dragged him away. " well that was unexpected." Hye-In blurred out. The girls nodded.

Seeing there was no reason to stay anymore, I got up and left before any more surprises popped up. I said my byes to Eun-Yoo, I figured I should search around for Hyun-Su.

A/N

Finally finished with this chapter. And please I'm sorry if an offended anyone talking about god, I don't mean to if you guys worship a different religion. I did it because it fits in with the characters' plot. And I also smell a great friendship coming up.

Thank you guys for the reads, votes, and support!! 🖤

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Won’t You Stay (Part 5)

Summary: The reader has dinner with her family and Jensen and the pair finally make a decision on their friendship...

Masterlist

Pairing: Jensen x Director!reader

Word Count: 2,900ish

Warnings: language

A/N: Please enjoy!

______

Saturday Night

“Should I ask Marcus to winter formal?” asked Ella, pacing around her room nonstop. You raised an eyebrow at her from where you lay on her bed, Anthony shaking his head from the other side. “I was asking Y/N, not the guy that won’t even go with his boyfriend.”

“Ella,” you said, hanging your head off the edge of her bed. “If Anthony doesn’t want to go broadcast something he doesn’t want to, he doesn’t have to. Also, you don’t need a date. Go with your friends. It’s more fun anyways.”

“Yeah but Marcus is cute and all my friends have boyfriends,” she said, sighing as she stood in front of her closet and held up her dress.

“Don’t have a boyfriend because your friends do, Ella. It is so not worth the aggravation,” you said. “Boys are never worth the aggravation.”

“Agreed,” they both said, a tiny smile on your face.

“Why’d you break up with Logan again?” asked Anthony. You sighed and let out a long groan. “He was good looking.”

“Being attractive has nothing to do with having a good relationship,” you said.

“Yeah, but like even mom and dad don’t know what happened between you-” said Ella, cutting herself off when you sat up with a glare.

“I thought I asked you two to never bring him up again,” you said. “It’s over and that’s it.”

“Did he cheat on you?” asked Ella. You scoffed and closed your eyes. “If he cheated-”

“Mind your own fucking business,” you snapped. She stared at you, a little misty eyed and you squeezed yours shut. You’d never swore at her before and knew she’d beat herself up about it if you didn’t nip it in the bud. “El, I’m sorry. Logan...he broke my heart. It hurt. A lot. I thought he was the person I was going to end up with. He wasn’t the person I thought he was though. Obviously it’s still a sensitive subject for me. I don’t want to talk about him anymore.”

“Sorry,” she mumbled. She went over to her window seat and plopped down, turning her head to look out the dark window. 

“Ella bear,” you said, standing up and walking over, sitting next to her and pulling her into a hug. “I love you.”

“When I broke up with Brady, you told me it wasn’t the end of the world and it felt like it,” she said, looking up at you. “Why’s Logan different?”

“Things are different when you’re older, when you’re in a long term relationship and it ends,” you said. “Forgive me?”

“Yeah. Sorry,” she said, giving you back a hug before she set her sights on Anthony. “So what’s the deal with you and Nolan?”

“He kinda wants to tell his parents about us and I don’t want to do that until mom and dad know and I’m not ready to tell them,” he said, tossing his baseball up and down. “Y/N, what do you think?”

“Well it’s a personal thing. You should tell them when you’re ready. If Nolan’s ready that’s his choice but he should respect yours too,” you said.  “Honestly if you two are going to keep having sex though, maybe-”

“Y/N,” he groaned. “I thought I told you not to talk about that stuff with Ella here.”

“I took health class too, idiot,” she said.

“I’m not talking about sex with my little sister,” he said. 

“She’s sixteen. She knows what it is,” you said. “If you can’t talk about it, you shouldn’t be doing it.”

“I don’t get the big deal in telling mom and dad you have a boyfriend,” said Ella. “They wouldn’t have a problem with it.”

“I’m just not ready, El. Forget I said anything,” said Anthony, tossing his ball one more time before you caught it.

“Don’t let Nolan pressure you into saying something either, okay?” you asked. Anthony smiled and nodded. 

“He wouldn’t. We’ll just wait until we’re both ready to tell them,” he said. You tossed his ball back, the doorbell ringing in the distance.

“Kids! Our guest is here!” shouted your dad from downstairs. 

“Guest? God, is it another stupid studio executive?” groaned Ella as she stood up. “I hate those guys.”

“It’s dad’s costar. Jensen Ackles,” you said, waving them both to follow you. “He’s nice. You’ll like him.”

“What’s he been in?” asked Anthony. “He sounds vaguely familiar.”

“Some of those teenage shows you like. He was on some horror show for a few years and stuff before that,” you said. “Come on you two.”

Anthony typed away on his phone as they dragged their feet down the hall, freezing and getting a sigh from you.

“Oh wow,” said Anthony, holding up his phone for Ella to see. “He’s hot.”

“Oh, move over Gil Nicholas,” said Ella. “He is so much better looking. He’s taller too.”

“Guys. Behave,” you said as you walked towards the top of the stairs. You headed downstairs with them on your tail, Jensen handing over his coat to your mom in the foyer. “Hey, Jay.”

“Hey,” he said, smoothing out his light blue button up. He had a pair of nice jeans on, some red and blue socks on his feet, a pair of boots tucked away on the mat by the closet door. “You must be Ella and Anthony.”

“Well hello,” said Ella, pausing at the bottom of the stairs, looking him up and down. You rolled your eyes and smacked her arm.

“Ella. Stop staring at him like he’s meat,” you said. “Excuse her. She’s normally not such an idiot.”

“What? He’s hot,” she said as your mom stepped back over and tilted her head.

“Ella, that’s rude. I’m sorry for my daughter,” said your mom to Jensen. “Ella apologize.”

“Sorry,” she said sheepishly.

“It’s okay,” said Jensen with a chuckle. “I heard someone had a rough volleyball game yesterday and someone else had an even rougher AP History test.”

“Uh yeah,” said Anthony. “How’d you know that?”

“Your dad likes to brag about you guys,” said Jensen with a smile. “A lot.”

“Guys, please go set the table,” said your mom, shooing them out of the foyer. They both headed for the dining room, Jensen standing there with you looking around. 

“Your house is beautiful, Mrs. Y/L/N,” said Jensen, tilting his head up to look at the beams going up across the two story foyer area. “And massive.”

“Thank you and it’s Dani, Jensen,” said your mom, offering him a friendly smile. “Y/N. Entertain Jensen for a moment. We’re running a few minutes late with dinner.”

She went back towards the kitchen, Jensen walking slowly with you down the main hall, looking at a few pictures hung on the wall.

“Aw, that’s adorable,” he said, pointing at a picture of you and your dad from your first day of kindergarten. He didn’t look too much different nowadays, maybe a little less boyish but you’d seen him wear the same shirt on Tuesday to work. You had on a tonka truck shirt and purple shorts, hair pulled back in a high pony. You rolled your eyes and he let out a laugh. “You look cute.”

“Dad tried his best. Fashion has never been his expertise,” you said.

“When did your mom come into the picture?”

“I was ten. It all happened very quickly. They got married and started having kids soon after that,” you said. “Anthony and then Ella.”

“Even the perfect people’s lives aren’t as perfect as they seem,” he said, looking at one of you behind a film camera when you were little. “You’re lucky to have a dad like him.”

“I know I am,” you said. He smiled and walked down the hall some more, stopping at a few pictures, smirking at one in particular. “Oh shut up, Ackles.”

“That is a perfect picture if I do say so,” said Jensen with a laugh.

“I fully agree,” said your dad as he popped out from the kitchen. “She’s got a hell of a mess of bed head. Still does.”

“I can see,” he said, giving you a shit eating grin.

“I so love it when we have guests over,” you said, your dad pushing you both into the kitchen.

“What’s your poison, Jensen?” asked your dad, holding up a bottle of red wine. Jensen spun around in circles, taking in the space and the open family room. “Kid.”

“I’ll have a glass of whatever’s open,” said Jensen, returning his attention to your parents.

“I can get behind that. Y/N,” said your dad, sliding the bottle over to you. You hummed and poured four glasses, handing one to Jensen. “The house isn’t that nice.”

“You should see my apartment,” mumbled Jensen.

“You’re over in Sunrise Ridge, right?” he asked. Your ears perked up and your dad laughed. “I’m surprised you remember.”

“I remember the pool,” you said.

“You guys lived over there?” asked Jensen. Your dad nodded and took a drink. “Seriously?”

“We all start from somewhere,” said your dad. “Someday soon maybe you can get in a nicer place.”

“Yeah. I wouldn’t mind it,” he said. 

“How are you feeling, Jensen? Ethan said you were hurt on set this week,” said your mom as she worked on the other side of the island.

“Oh, I’m okay. A few bandages and I’m good as new,” said Jensen. “Y/N’s actually the one that made sure I didn’t get hurt worse. I think she got in a bit of trouble over it.”

“Yeah well, that’s my job,” you said as you sipped on your glass. 

“Y/N was almost a nurse actually before she worked in an office for a few years. She likes helping people,” said your mom. “We were a little surprised she followed her dad’s footsteps.”

“Well stories help people,” said Jensen. “They can be hopeful or inspiring. I mean, the story Y/N wrote was very inspiring. That helps people.”

Your parents glanced at one another and shared a look.

“I like him,” said your mom, Jensen chuckling. “Do you have a girlfriend, Jensen?”

“Uh, no. I’m on my own at the moment,” he said. 

“Enjoy being single,” said your dad. “Both of you.”

“Well the girls will be fawning over you once the movie comes out,” said your mom. “May need to look into a bodyguard.”

Jensen laughed but no one else did, his face quickly frowning.

“Wait, you’re serious?” he asked.

“Uncle Brody hangs out sometimes with dad or us,” you said, Jensen raising an eyebrow. “Uncle Brody is dad’s bodyguard if you didn’t catch that.”

“Being famous has its occasional flaws,” said your dad. “If this thing blows up though, which odds are it might, let me know and we’ll get you hooked up with someone. It’s not an all the time thing, I promise.”

“Here I thought I was just playing a character,” said Jensen.

“Are you playing Lyle?” asked Anthony as he walked in with Ella. Jensen spun around with a smile and hummed. “Wow, he’s even got green eyes like him too.”

“Don’t you hate when those pesky authors throw out specific character traits,” chuckled your dad. You gave him a look, your mom handing a few dishes to the other guys to carry into the dining room.

“I was willing to compromise on the eye color when it came to the actor I recall,” you said.

“Mhm. I recall that going a tad different,” he hummed, flipping something over in the pan. “Go on and take Jensen to the dining room. Dinner will be out in a few minutes.”

“It’s a little funny,” said Jensen as you headed out with him around the corner, finding a seat for him in there. “Seeing you not at work I mean. You’re always so in charge there. With your family you’re a lot more laid back.”

“If I’m being honest, it makes me horribly uncomfortable to be in charge like that,” you said.

“Why do it then?” he asked.

“Sometimes you have to do scary things for stuff you care about. They wanted to shred my book apart and make it a summer blockbuster,” you said. “They wanted to make Hale the bad guy at the end if you can believe it.”

“It would have ruined it,” said Jensen with a scoff. “What idiot came up with that? It’s so stupid. It would have made everything pointless.”

“I know. I fought to be director to save it and I won. Now I hope I don’t ruin it,” you said.

“You’ll be great,” said Jensen as he pulled out your chair for you. You sat down with a smile, Jensen taking the one across from you. “I promise.”

“Dinner was delicious,” said Jensen as he headed out a few hours later. “Thank you for having me over.”

“We’ll do it again sometime,” said your dad as your mom handed him his coat. “A home cooked meal is good now and then. I know your family isn’t around here. Stop over every once in a while. Dani knows how to cook a mean prime rib.”

“I may take you up on that,” said Jensen as he pulled on his jacket.

“Well and the kids adored you which they rarely do with their father’s guests. We’d much rather have you over than Gil Nicholas. He’s such a little douchebag,” said your mom. You smirked, Jensen chuckling.

“I’ve heard the rumors,” said Jensen. “Next time I’ll be sure to bring a dish over. My mom always said don’t come empty handed to a dinner party.”

“Your mother taught you very good manners,” said your mom. 

“Sure you don’t want to stick around for another drink?” asked your dad.

“I would but I have to drive,” said Jensen. “I appreciate the offer though. Another time for sure.”

“I understand. Well have a good rest of your weekend, Jensen. Try to take a little time to relax. We got another long week ahead of us,” said your dad.

“I think I’m going to head home too, try to catch up on sleep,” you said.

“Alright. You young guns go home. Y/N, text us when you get there,” he said. 

“Mhm. Night,” you said, heading outside, walking with Jensen down the front steps. “Hey, hold up a second.”

“Yes?” he asked, following you to your car. You opened the passenger seat and pulled out a small bag, handing it over to him. He tilted his head as he opened it up, smiling wide as he reached inside and pulled out his gift. “A first edition copy of The Dark Woods. I love it. You didn’t have to do that Y/N.”

“I even signed it for you,” you said, Jensen flipping open the front cover and glancing at you. 

“Did you just ask me out through a book?” he asked.

“Did it work?” you asked, Jensen smirking. “You had a point yesterday. I don’t think anyone is ever ready for a relationship or the timing is right. But I like you and you’re sweet and I haven’t liked anyone in years.”

“Do you want to go grab some dessert?” he asked with a big smile. 

“Is this a date?”

“Maybe,” he teased.

“Oh, well if you’re gonna tease, I can do that too,” you said, turning back into the car and pulling out another bag. He stared at it before he tore into it, wide eyed and looking over at you. 

“The Dark Night. A Lyle Sullivan story,” he said, staring at the plain black covered book. “What-”

“It’s the second book. That’s an unpublished copy of the first edition. Only about ten people have read it so far but I figured you might really enjoy it,” you said.

“This is literally the coolest gift I have ever gotten,” he said, looking the book over, already flipping through it.

“Okay, fanboy. Let’s grab some dessert and then you can spend all day tomorrow nose deep in that thing,” you said.

“Tomorrow? I’m staying up and reading this tonight!” he said with a laugh. “This is awesome. I can’t wait to check it out. After dessert of course.”

“After you, Ackles.”

______

A/N: Read Part 6 here!

[notgonnarememberthis]

Standing on a Parapet

Had a breakdown. Wrote this. Bon appetite.

Jessica chokes on a breath as she slams the door behind her. She leans back against it, safely in her room once again. She stares up at the ceiling trying to blink away the tears and clear her vision again. All her clothes feel much too tight as she runs a hand over her chest trying to will the pain in it away. It works, but only momentarily.

She strips herself of the necklace that feels too heavy, and her rings that constrict her fingers and bump clumsily when she runs her hands through her hair. They clang and clack as she tosses them into the jewelry box on her vanity, not making eye contact with the mess that she is in the mirror. She clutches the wood resisting the urge to push it all over. That would surely gain more attention than she wanted right now.

She should call Gil.

She can’t.

She made sure of that.

She leans forward on her elbows rocking and pinching the bridge of her nose. She can’t cry. She can’t fucking cry. And she looks at herself. God help her, she looks like a god damn wreck. Her eyes are red rimmed, her straightened hair is loose, falling in tendrils around her face and she looks like she hasn’t slept in weeks.

She hasn’t. Not well.

Ainsley staying was a relief. Of course it was. She fills the home with dancing, twirling on the smooth floors in her socks, mimicking moves from when she used to ice skate. Her voice would light up the halls, singing (sometimes drunkenly) all of the hits from when she was a teen: Britney Spears, Backstreet Boys, Spice Girls.

God, she never thought she’d be so happy to hear Complicated ever again.

But there were moments, god help her there were moments.

“No, you don’t understand Thomas.” Her words were spitting. “If we don’t get those passes ABC7 will get there first and it won’t be my head Jodie will be looking for.”

She had been on the phone, probably talking to some poor partner or whatever they’re called. Jessica had been bringing her tea. The tone, her words. Jessica felt like she was walking back twenty years. All down to the way she hung up, fire in her eyes until she found her mother standing there. How immediately they went soft.

Jessica almost broke right there.

The drawer slides open noisily and she whips out the bottle inside. It was the strongest bourbon she had. Saved for her wedding anniversary, Martin’s birthday, and the day Eve died. She popped the tab drinking straight from the bottle, pretending the burn would take the memories with it. Her eyes fall on the bottom of the drawer. A piece of cardstock staring back up at her.

She collapses in the chair grabbing the picture.

The photo had been supposed to go with the rest. That Christmas had something special about it, she couldn’t remember what. But Malcolm had bounced on top of her, excited chanting with Ainsley in quick tow on Martin’s side. Her son had torn open the wrapping paper so excitedly. His eyes lit up with the advanced medical texts.

“Now these are technically for college students but I think you can handle them.” Martin had said with a wink. Ainsley opened a litter of dresses and a microphone that she sang into for hours on end. She squealed with delight at every single thing she found beautiful. “She’s just like you.” He whispered in her ear.

God, was he wrong.

They had posed for a picture by the tree. Ainsley and Malcolm wearing matching sets of pajamas and their smiles brighter than she remembers them ever being.

It was their last happy memory.

Now it is singed, the photo had been dumped with the others into the billowing flames. But it just landed closest to her. Martin’s face now a burned hole, and the rest of them blissfully untouched. She had stupidly reached into the flames, plucking it out and stamping out the sides that were beginning to catch. Her finger tips were burnt, she told Gil when he inspected her bandaged hand that she was making Ainsley lunch.

He didn’t believe her.

The burn isn’t nearly enough anymore. Her tears flow freely and she sits back, cursing her own reflection. She’d spent so long telling Malcolm he wasn’t his father. Saving him from that trauma, from the words that he flinched with when teachers, reporters, hell his own father tried to ingrain in him.

He looked so much lighter when he finally changed his name.

How could she compare Ainsley to him.

What kind of mother is she?

The thought makes her shut her eyes tightly. Her cheeks on fire from the alcohol and her holding her breath trying to suppress the loud sobs that desperately want out. Ainsley isn’t far, she reminds herself. She could hear it if she was quiet enough. So she hiccups, rage and guilt flowing constrained through her veins.

There were always whispers about how she was broken. Looking at the woman in the mirror it feels like shattered is a more appropriate word. Like a doll that had been dropped so many times that there are pieces missing, a glance into the hollow bones that lie inside. Ones she fills with anything that will keep her busy.

Ainsley stopped singing as much since she went back to work. Even when she does the words are haunting, an omen. More than once she caught her singing a lullaby that Jessica doesn’t recognize. It’s absentminded, like she doesn’t know the song, only the words spilling from her subconscious as she wanders the halls.

They feel like a threat.

She should call Gil, he would know what to do.

Her fingers linger on the speed dial. Gil would comfort her. There would be a disapproving look when he saw her choice of drink but he would stay. His heart would be a beat that soothes her worries.

She can’t.

But she needs to know. Her fingers dial the number automatically.

“Claremont Psychiatric, this is Henry, how can I help?”

Hope y’all enjoyed that!! I want to be explicitly clear this is not a fic for shipping Jessica with Martin. She’s seeking out answers rather than addressing her own emotions, which is something I firmly believed she would do in canon. Meanwhile if she called Gil she would have to be admitting that something is wrong.

BUT story and beginning joke aside, I am doing better than when I wrote this. I’ve been hella overwhelmed bc I am about to move again and it’s harder than it’s ever been and super fucking sad if I’m being honest. But I’m working through the emotions with friends. Just had to write this to make myself feel a little less heavy. Didn’t work, but I got some of that bad energy out.

[zahra-kha]

Dear Diary 30

I’ve been incredibly busy.

On purpose, but I don’t mind it at all. There’s been a sort of peace locking myself up in my apartment, writing songs and practicing for shows. I wish I could say I’ve been up to more but outside of Plume and the strange plated leves adventure I’ve been reclusive.

I’ve been having a lot of bizarre dreams of late. One reoccurring dream I’ve been having is one where I feel like I’m floating in this dark pool. I try to swim to the surface but just as I get to the top and reach out someone reaches out to stop me. When I look up I see a reflection of myself, but it’s not me. Her hair and eyes are the color of blood and she looks down at me with resentment.

I can’t hear what she’s saying and when I try to read her lips the water blurs what she’s trying to say. It’s when I try to respond that my lungs fill with water and I wake up struggling to breathe.

I’ve had to leave the lights on of late too. I’m not sure why but being in the darkness triggers my claustrophobia like when I was a child. It’s just dark, tight spaces now, but of late I can’t even be in the room unless there’s a dim light. I start feeling like I’m suffocating - or like something’s trying to crawl out of me.

It’s been hard to sleep again. I think I might start taking tonics. If I don’t have those dreams it’s just other nightmares. Dreams about me dying in a fire, or I’m running and I keep trying to scream out for help but no matter how hard I scream nothing comes out. I feel helpless and frustrated.

So you can understand why I keep drowning myself in work, right?

My shows have been going well, the solidarity show was a success! There were so many of us there, I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many raen and xaela in one place! It was a warm feeling.

Tyme’s performance was absolutely stunning. I just want to point that out. Kaito’s was funny, he’s a great performer. I may get at him one day for a duet. It’d be hilarious. And Suki’s was beautiful!

And there were Kha! I didn’t really get to talk to any of them, but I wanted to. Sometimes I feel torn - I love my family, but there’s a part of me that wants to know where I came from too. Did my birth family love me? How was it growing up on the Steppes? What sort of traditions did I follow? I don’t remember any of it and a part of me was afraid of it. Afraid of how I’d be seen.

But they were warm. Orghana was kind and offered for me to stop in and learn more about their culture if I taught her a bit about dancing (not that she needs it, she’s amazing!). 

There was also someone who had been saved by the Kha once and she told me nice things about my clan, and told me my songs had moved her (she also gave me a considerable sum of gil). I feel like I’ve met her before, but I couldn’t pin down where with her mask on.

I think I’d like to make friends with Baatu too. He’s a Kha, and I’ve seen him before at the Bandee Pakshee.

The next day I performed at the Gilded Stag. There were a lot of people I knew there! Kaito, Koh’a, Vel, Vin, Gail, even - to my surprise- Trystan! I’ve seen him pop in and out but I’d sadly not been able to really sit and chat him up, so I was happy he was there! Apparently he’d come to see me and Vin’s performances. I was...a bit apprehensive since I don’t think he realized it was a burlesque show but...he found out quick enough once the clothes started coming off!

Everyone’s performance was amazing. I could have done without seeing Kaito’s dick but I knew what I signed up for! So...I guess I’ll have to live with that going into work next Plume. Vin’s performance was stunning as always. I think poor Trystan wasn’t sure how to think or feel.

A burlesque show was different for me and probably my most ‘out there’ performance I’ve done. I let myself relax and go with the flow. And no, I don’t mean I flashed all my goods but. I might have thrown off my top. At the end!

Gods, I did that with Trystan watching. Nothing like having one of your best friends watching you halfway strip to make you feel so embarrassed you want to die. Too late to regret now moving on.

Anyway! After we went to Gail’s shop and tried to catch up. Apparently Gail and Vin have joined a group called GHOST. They sound like a well funded and organized group and I’m happy for them. I was a little sad to hear Vin had left school because it wasn’t offering her what she wanted, but it sounds like she’s happy with where she is and what she’s doing.

Somewhere along the line Vin lost an arm, too. I don’t know how and I guess she doesn’t give people a straight answer so. I didn’t ask.

I found out Trystan has been working and he knows a bit about what’s going on with those towers that have suddenly popped up. Not a whole ton, it’s still being investigated, but it looks like adventurers aren’t going to be short of work anytime soon. I’m glad he’s still out there doing what inspires him. I know it was hard for him when his father was ill. Adventuring is such a part of Trystan, I can’t imagine him not doing it.

Vin had to leave, and we ended up discussing ...well me. What happened and the things going on with my troupe. I talked to Gail about the investigation and she asked me what I wanted to do about it. I told her I didn’t feel right having everyone be cut off from things like that after they risked their lives to bring me back.

Trystan had stepped out but came back in time to overhear a good bit of what had happened to me. I wish there was something I could do to ease his guilt. I know he feels bad for not being there, but he was out there doing something incredible - he doesn’t need to feel guilty. We’re all out here doing what we feel is best for us, but it does make me feel less alone knowing I have so many friends that care about me. It’s been...hard.

I hope he can join us when we go out there to look deeper into the mystery, and I promised to treat him to some lunch to tell him everything that happened. I should have written him more, but I admit I’d been feeling out of sorts and reclusive of late. I’ve just had so much on my mind I just retreated into my thoughts whenever I was alone.

Gail opened up to us and we learned why she doesn’t like to talk about her nameday. I won’t reveal it here because it’s not my story to tell but- I decided I won’t pry into it or Jasper’s nameday any longer. Sometimes people have reasons for not wanting to open up about those things and I shouldn’t be insensitive.

We then got into the idea of soulmates and the concept of love itself. Gail has some strong views on it, and I ended up realizing I do too. I have a feeling Trystan does as well but maybe he was content to let us hash it out. He did chime in on it, and I think he’s of the same mindset as I am.

I wonder if Gail is afraid of love because she’s seen the rock bottom of what a toxic love can do to someone. That’s not something I can understand, but I can get being scared of love. When you’ve experienced heartbreak, it makes you hesitant to want to try and love again. Like when you first experience touching fire.

But I always run away from everything, and I’m so tired of that. And while I’m not going to rush in guns blazing with the feelings I currently have, I don’t want to run away from them either. I have someone I like. When I’m around them it’s a nice, warm feeling. They make me laugh, sometimes they frustrate me. I get flustered when they compliment me, and sometimes when they do reckless things I get angry, worried, or sad.

But then they give me an apologetic smile and I can’t feel upset anymore, and that’s okay too. I don’t want to see these feelings as something bad. It just is.

I want Gail to find happiness. It doesn’t have to be with someone, but I want her to be happy.

[yooleestruck]

in which lee rambles about how great writers are

I don’t really know what this is. I don’t know if now is the right time to do this, or a really bad time, or if it makes any sense, but I want to talk about it! I feel like a broken record saying ‘the writing matters most, the writing matters most’ but maybe I need to show what I mean by that? So, here is an attempt. 

I’m sorry not all of these are the same length and not everyone is here, because every time I see that someone is a writer I do try to follow but I don’t always know/remember! Also I am weird about this sort of thing and don’t want to tag people in a monster-long post, so I’m just going to link. I also don’t want to make this a producers vs writers thing, it’s not, it’s just, when I say I notice writer-stuff, an explanation of what, specifically, I mean. 

Writers have a style fingerprint. I’m sure someone with an actual creative writing or English background could describe it all academic-ly, but my ex-chemist ass is just going to call it a fingerprint. 

My first game in Lovestruck was Starship Promise - I love Firefly, I’m a bisexual disaster scientist by education, it fit. But I had been REALLY put off by GIL when it first came out (this was back when they released stories in parts? And the heroine, which I will get to) and though I’d glanced at AFK, I mistrusted it after GIL and Medusa, who was who I was interested in, wasn’t out yet. So I resisted a LONG time.  I finally picked up LS and SP and played it explicitly because a friend said, you need to give this another chance, for a list of specific reasons. 

And when Atlas’s route came out, I read it a stupid number of times. I must have re-read his season 1 & 2 at least eight times apiece (he is still my most read route, despite the fact I have not read his last season because I want to leave the story open-ended)  so when I read Neil Dresner’s route, I recognized the fingerprint. Not only that, when I was reading Jett and the episodes with the paint scene (YOU KNOW THE SCENE) came out, my breath caught with how lovely it was, a particular in-between moment and touch, and even though it wasn’t a phrase I had seen, the style of it, had me re-reading (because it was gorgeous) again and again from the log for like five minutes and I thought, “I bet Melissa wrote this” AND SHE DID. 

Physical touch! (& in-betweens)

Melissa-grey has a particular way of writing about physical touch in very emotional moments that is very real and grounded and ironically the effect is just magical. It creates these so skillful “in between” moments, those little things that aren’t dialogue and aren’t metaphor but SHOW you that this closed off person is cracking for their little ray of sunshine. They are SO subtle and so beautiful, like, the heroine noticing the scent of a pillow, or a softening of an aborted hand movement.  She sets up and executes these moments of physical touch as a conduit for emotional touch with characters who aren’t ready to admit he latter and it’s DELICIOUS. Those little in-betweens are what I live for in story - and it includes all the supporting cast moments, who swell up to make the world feel lived in, and balanced (I loathe love stories where no one else exists! That’s a recipe for disaster, people need networks) I noticed when she stopped writing, and because I missed it, I went and bought the entire Midnight Girl series, as well as Rated (I hope that is flattering and not creepy!) and that style of writing is so unique, that without KNOWING, I picked it up in four separate routes (noticed in Sev’s s1, too!) 

Pacing (& friggen heartache)

Another fingerprint! Ripping your heart out! Arthoure has had me in tears, MULTIPLE TIMES and I get very grouchy about it every time because I am the least sentimental and romantic person that I know (I once MOVED STATES to avoid an ‘I love you’ conversation. I once said ‘yikes’ in response to an ‘I love you’ and I once broke up with someone because I thought he was going to propose. I’m a bitch) but I think it’s because of pacing! I know that producers play a role in that, but that actually makes it more impressive, because making each bit of story feel like it fits precisely the amount of space it needs when you don’t really get a say in how much space that is has got to take a MASSIVE amount of effort. Every little hint, every emotional beat, every character tell, they drop at a consistent build so the emotional payoff is just brutal (in a good, cathartic way?) every time a route makes me cry I wait and see and YEAH ITS ALWAYS ARTHOURE. The sweep and sentiment of Remy’s season 2 is unparalleled. Across Time is gutwrenching, and I actually stopped reading Renzei at one point because I was so emotional over it I had to like, LEGIT TAKE A BREAK to recover. Pacing and heartache. I have to stop and wonder - is it because the routes themselves are so gut-punching? OR is it because she knows how to wring every last emotional drop out of whatever story framework is handed to her? Because, Ezekiel’s villain costume is a bit silly (there I said it, it is) I get the cobra helmet shape in theory but in practice, ooof, but POINT BEING despite being skeptical I’d be able to take his story seriously as a result, I was hiccuping from crying so much (and I am gosh darn adult, in my thirties, with three degrees and a high-stress job at pretty major company. I DON’T CRY EASY)

 Dialogue (& heroines!)

Xekstrin is the gosh damn master of dialogue. Clever, witty banter that doesn’t go where you expect it to, meandering but natural topic changes that are delightful to follow and feel real, and--special shoutout for this, okay--the navigation of viscerally important topics like consent, kink, self-worth, power in relationships, self-sacrifice, and apologies in a way that is not stilted or forced at all (listen, I know Viv & Lyris are the most recent and they are amazing but I remember this first hit me when I was reading Astraeus, and I spent half the route with my jaw on the floor going, oh shit,  oh shit. The communication! The navigation of the complexity of emotion going on, chef’s kiss! Casual isn’t the right word, but, natural, maybe?). I don’t actually take that many screenshots of the app--it’s usually single lines that get me--but when I do, they are almost always conversations from one of her routes, because they’re so damn good, and often so unexpected, and yet always make such perfect sense for the characters involved. Dialogue is SO HARD OKAY. Actually try and transcribe a conversation sometime, it’s nuts how people talk vs how most people write people talking. Xekstrin also writes some of my absolute favorite MCs, and going back to fingerprints, I was reading Lyris s1 and right there in the first tavern scene, as we were following along with the heroine’s thoughts I went, ah, yes, I know who you belong to and I am SO EXCITED. Being able to give the heroine unique thoughts and quirks, to make her genuinely relatable, without overriding the necessary template of the genre dictates, is a skill all of its own. But I love her MCs! There is a beautiful balance of compassion, competence, and dash of bratty, wild, fun mischief. I can actually cheer for them. I can actually get behind them. I WANT the love interest to flop at their feet for who they are, not just because the story says so. And that comes from how the heroine’s thoughts are written, from her phrasing in conversations, how she sees situations, not just a producer saying ‘she is a strong lead who is self conscious about her ears and she’s nervous in the council meeting’ or whatever. I AM REALLY STRUGGLING to articulate this if you can’t tell from how long I have been blathering. Maybe this - the heroine is the same across every route, presumably, yes? Everyone has the same base. I NEVER question, when xekstrin is writing, why the love interest falls in love with her. Side note - I had hard written off GIL after a bad experience with the standalone app. I only read Aurora BECAUSE I learned she wrote it, and I would have SO MISSED OUT otherwise.

A complete aside in which Lee grumbles about heroines and not writers!

(Complete side vent: Often, the heroine is, if not a blank slate, a sort of collection of assigned traits, and she often remains so unless the story demands she become otherwise. Which is fine! I don’t personally, but I know a lot of folks self-insert, and so erring towards that makes sense. Almost all the otome I’ve played were originally written for a Japanese audience. When I played original Voltage games, starting back in 2014, I always had to remind myself - different culture, different culture, different culture, and it was not possible for me to relate to most of the heroines. I still enjoyed the stories, but I rarely cheered for the heroine’s romance, especially in some of the slice of life stories. I understood her, but I rarely wanted her to get with the love interest, I wanted her success to come in other ways! Another game company, Cybird, tried to ‘Americanize’ their heroine to IMO disastrous effect - it was such a stereotype, and made no sense since they didn’t also Americanize the context, so she come across as, frankly, ridiculous. And frankly, Voltage’s GIL heroine REEKED OF THAT. When they first posted her on social media I was legitimately annoyed about it, like could you lean into this more? I think not. So when I talk about being able to relate to and cheer for the heroine, it’s a big deal, because my blatant mistrust of Voltage and their ability to craft a heroine I could tolerate was a BIG factor in how long it took me to give Lovestruck a try. I was willing to tolerate it in translated stories, I was so skeptical of -en only ones.) 

Metaphors (& balance)

literacouture writes beautiful metaphors for connection between humans! I’m really bad at keeping track of who writes what, but I purposefully kept an eye out on tumblr after reading Cal’s route, because there were some lines that were pure poetry, and I wanted to keep an eye out for more. It is HARD to spin metaphors prettily without delving into trite, painful, purple prose cringe territory, and it’s navigated beautifully in Cal’s route. There’s a balance between those spin-out moments and things that are tangible and anchoring and make it feel authentic and unique to the two characters involved, instead of just ‘I am trying to make this sound romantic and this is a romantic phrase so here it is’. That balance is really necessary. You NEED the mundane alongside the metaphor or it doesn’t feel authentic. Also. Trying really hard to write this without throwing any authors or producers under the bus, but...listen. I love Sin with Me. But the world logic (or LACK THEREOF) drives me up a wall. I don’t read Cal because of his character traits or sprite or (sigh) his story. I read him because literacouture writes a beautiful romance.

 So anyway...

There are more! When I am less tired and don’t have meetings, I will try and write them up (Please know there are so many routes I love, and so many things I do recognize across chapters! I don’t even HAVE words for what theivorytowercrumbles accomplished with Helena’s story not to mention how much I adore Cyprin,  SummerLightning’s handling of Onyx’s past relationship was so deftly done when it could have so quickly become ‘milk abuse for plot’ and joidecombat gave Sev a fresh, mischievous energy and navigated the dream/reality line with SUCH skill, and so on and so on.)

I’ve written a lot of reviews. And I try to give nods where I feel they’re due - sometimes, it really is obvious that the whole team’s work came together to makes something great, the world, the plot, the arc, the art, the words, and the music all fit into place in a  well-crafted tour de force. And sometimes one piece or another is lacking, and I’ll admit I’ve left some...less than kind reviews to that end (I try and soften it, because I know there are humans on the other side of everything, but I’ve been harsh more than once with my opinions).  I’ve read routes with plots that made me want to tear my hair out because I DO value consistency and logic to a degree, even if I’m going to accept at face value that, say, space travel is a thing or demons turn to sand when stabbed. 

In the end, these are romance stories. So I will let a lot slide when it comes to plot. What sells a story are the words - not the outline.

And if Voltage doesn’t believe that - just remember that Hamlet existed long, long before Shakespeare wrote it. His was the version that lasted, because the people liked it best. The plot, the world, the characters, they all existed a hundred times over. Even just look at fan translations of manga. Why do people keep translating, even if someone else has? Because the words someone else picked don’t do the story justice. 

I don’t know. I’m talking in circles because I don’t know my own thesis! 

Maybe it’s just - the worlds these stories in are nice. But when I say I’m a fan of something, the premise is like. 10%. The rest is the writing. 

[orionlakehastodie]

We Can Leave The Christmas Lights Up Until January

NA Modern Shirtbert AU

He was eighteen and too young to know that what he was doing was stupid.

She was eighteen and too young to care even though she knew.

“Let’s move in together.”

He’d been her friend for many years, a rival, a nuisance from when she was growing up. But somehow underneath all that, he became her Gil. The love of her life. 

She was eighteen and young, but there were truths you knew no matter what age you are. 

Maybe it’s your old soul, from another life, that knew with as much certainty as you did.

That Gilbert Blythe was the man she was going to spend the rest of her life with was one of them.

“Anne. Move in with me.”

So was there any other answer other than yes?

---

It wasn’t easy telling your parents who stood firm on values and virtues that you were essentially going to live in sin with the boy from the Blythe farm. 

“You... you are not even... live together... with Gilbert!”

But she stood firm, because she loved him, stupid with it, brave with it, sure with it.

“I’ll marry him anyway. I’ll spend the rest of my life with him anyway. What difference does it make, if I start now or after college.”

Marilla wanted to ask how she knew, how she was so sure. But she had been in love with a Blythe boy from the Blythe farm once. And she knew, for a fact, that you love them forever. 

"Oh... Matthew talk to her.”

Because she wasn’t a reliable source, not when it comes to Blythe men. 

“Do you love him?”

“Yes.” She smiles then, everything in her relaxes, as if the mere thought of him, of loving him, was enough. For anything. 

“More than I can say. More than I imagined.”

Which was saying a lot, she imagined her tragical romance and all... and she never thought it would be Gilbert. 

“Then that’s all I need to know. Be happy my girl.”

She smiles and looks to Marilla, who sighs and raises her arms in resignation. She hugs them in thanks, and runs outside only to find Gilbert pacing a hole in her front porch. 

She smiles when he raises his head and looks at her, the furrow on his brow ever present and she jumps into his arms. He smiles, tension easing from him.

He held her hand as he swore to Matthew and Marilla to love her. Not care for her, not be responsible for her, not be her chaperone. But simply to love her, and be there for her when she needs. 

He didn’t ask for permission. Knew it was not his place. Knew Anne was not some product handed to him. She was a person, someone he loved, and he simply promised to love her. 

She never thought she could love him more in that moment, but she did. 

She loved him more and more with every passing moment. 

---

He was eighteen and in love but she was a bed hog.

She had no respect, whatsoever for personal space. 

It wasn’t the first time he shared her bed... well that was a story for another day, he thinks, with his ears turning pink and his naked torso feeling hotter than usual.

But he would usually leave at 2 in the morning to sneak out of her dorm bed. 

He never actually slept a full day with her. Until now. And she was such a bed hog. Her arms and legs are splayed between them and he was pushed to the end of his side of the bed, without a stitch on his naked form, and she was heavily wrapped around the quilt, drool from her open mouth flowing onto her pillow. 

She was beautiful like this. 

So beautiful like this. His Anne with an E. 

With a smile he carefully lifts the quilt and untucks it from her burrito form and she grumbles a bit, but remains steadfastly asleep. 

Then he tugs her arms, pulling her closer to his chest, and cuddling her close, tucking them both in the quilt. 

“You’re cold, Gil.”

She mumbles as she tangles her legs with his, and rubbing her nose against his neck, burrowing there.

“Whose fault is that?”

“Sorry.”

He chuckles and kisses her hair. 

“Nowhere I’d rather be darling.”

She was fast asleep again but he savors the feeling of her against him. 

“I love you.” He whispers against her skin.

“Love you. Go sleep.” She tightens her arms around him and he falls asleep like that, in her arms.

---

“No it was your turn to pay the electricity, Gil! I put up the bill on the fridge.”

“Well you know how it is with us and notes - your note fell off! You could have sent me a text!”

“You never read my texts! Not when you’re off with your pre-medicine buddies with that Dr. Ward!”

“No, Anne, you just didn’t charge your phone - again! Because you were out for so long with Cole doing the Lord knows what-”

“My study group doesn’t allow phones you know that!”

“This is 2019 not 1989 Anne!”

“What does that have to do with you not paying our electric bill!?”

He growled at her and she growled back. 

There were days when they still fought bitterly with each other. But that was the way they worked. 

It wasn’t always easy, living together, seeing each other at the best and worst of times - but he learned to be patient, he learned to communicate, to want to be understood, to work things out - even if it meant 2 AM fights in the bitter cold in their electricity-less apartment. 

He sneezes and she sighs, anger forgotten as she touches a hand to his forehead. “You feel warm.”

He grabs her hand in his and lays his forehead on hers, huddling closer in his blanket to her. 

“Sorry I didn’t pay the bill.”

“Sorry I didn’t call you about it. How was your exam?”

“It was okay... It’s ending soon, I know I’ve been absent lately but-”

“No Gil.”

She shakes her head and takes his hand, kisses it. 

“We help each other, okay? This was a bad week, but we’ll work it out. I’m sorry I exploded... I just... you can hang out with me, I wanna hear about your stories.”

“Why, Miss Anne Shirley-Cuthbert, are you jealous of the amount of time I spend with my pre-med counselling group.”

“Maybe.”

He smiles and pulls her close. “If I can stay in this blanket with you forever I would. There’s no one else for me Anne. Now... about Cole.”

She giggles and silences him with a well timed kiss to his lips.

---

She loved him, truly she did, but as his MCAT drew near, Gilbert became more and more of a big fat slob. 

Four years it’s been. Four years that she lived with him and it was never this bad. 

He had clothes littered all over the place, she couldn’t find a pair of socks that matched, and his books were scattered all over their bed. Their wall was covered with hundreds of sticky notes and there was Gilbert, the love of her life, in his boxers, a pen in his hands, chewing away at his nail beds as he typed from a book he was reading.

She didn’t say anything, but continued to pick up his clothes and throw them to the bin. 

During her thesis submission he was the patient one who picked after her, and now she was her to submit the favor. She would never have written her novel if he didn’t help her. If he didn’t soothe her moods. Force feed her when needed.

And now a publishing house wants to hire her and her life was beginning. 

And she wanted to be the same support to Gilbert that he had been to her.

So she grumbles to herself, but she picks up his clothes and straightens the sheets, and presses a kiss to his unwashed head with his unruly mane of hair and he absently grabs her hand and kisses the palm before muttering away at his notes and books once more. 

She smiles and decides she might as well do his laundry so she takes the hamper to their tiny wash area in their kitchen and she checks his pockets because Gilbert always has some piece of paper stashed there but then she turns one of the pockets inside out and out falls a turquoise box creating a huge thunk on the floor and her heart drops to her feet because she has seen that box before.

And with shaking hands she drops his pants and reaches for the box, opens it and gasps because there, right there, was his mother’s ring. Of the modest emeralds that reminded his father of his mother’s eyes. 

The same eyes that she passed to her son. Her Gilbert. The love of her life. 

“It was my mother’s.”

She startles at his voice and he was still in his boxers, with his feet bare and staring at her from across the kitchen foyer and love for him just fills her up. He smiles as the tears drip from her eyes and he kneels down to her, and clasps her hands in his, the ring in her hands.

“My father gave it to me before he passed. He told me he wanted to give it to me - to make sure, I remember how precious love is, and how I should value it - because I don’t know when it will be taken from me.”

He brushes her tears away, rests his forehead against hers.

“I knew, from the moment you hit me with your magic erase board all those years ago that you were it for me Anne. I loved you from that moment. And I never stopped. I never will. I know it has been fast for us... we lived together all this while, but that’s because I knew. There will never be anyone else for me but you Anne. My Anne with an E.”

“Oh, Gil.. I’m sorry it took me a little longer. But I love you. I do. Enough to put up with your snoring and you being the world’s biggest slob.”

He laughs and kisses her. And she laughs and pulls away. 

“Wait! You have to ask me.”

“Oh, this was not how I imagined it. I imagined... well wearing pants for one.”

“Gilbert!” She chides him with a laugh but his eyes grow serious, and looks right at hers, in that way of his, in that all consuming, see through my soul, are you really here, loving me kind of way.

“Anne... I have to know... will you do me the honor of becoming my life mate?”

She smiles because he remembered, from that one conversation they had. 

“Yes, Gilbert. A thousand times yes.”

And he kisses her and she knew... with every scar on her, she’d take this man to be her life mate.

---

It wasn’t always rainbows and sunshine. 

She was busy as a writer - she had multiple deadlines, she lived on coffee and toast most of the time. 

He was in medicine, he barely slept, he was always in school and there was a million hoops he had to jump.

They sometimes only saw each other on the weekends

Chores were left undone

Dishes piled in the sink.

There were a couple more times the electricity went unpaid. 

But through it all they loved. 

The Christmas lights stayed up until January because she loved twinkle lights, and loved the way  they shines on his hair as they sat under the tree talking about their days. 

They danced around the kitchen, and they ate out of the pan.

She still hogged the covers.

He still cuddled her even though she’s a bed hog.

She likes to watch him wake up, and would often absently kiss the top of his head when he’s buried in work. 

He likes to read lying down on her lap as she read edits her editor sent. 

This was their love, they made the rules. It wasn’t perfect... but it was theirs.

[royalcordelia]

This Home is Vast

Summary:  Delphine Lacroix wants to write a tale of adventure and romance, so naturally she writes the story of how Uncle Gil and Aunt Anne fell in love.

“The ache for home lives in all of us. The safe place where we can go as we are and not be questioned.”  -  Maya Angelou 

1908.

Delphine Lacroix had a meager few memories from her very young days of girlhood. There were some things she wished she could recall, like the wide, bright eyes that her mother had and the melodic tenderness of her voice. Sometimes it’s enough for other people to have those memories for you, Aunt Anne had said when she was very small. I made sure I memorized every little bit of your momma so that when I tell you stories, you’ll feel her with you. Close your eyes, chickadee, and I’ll tell you of her wedding day. It’ll be like she’s right here

And it was. When Anne spun her words into yarn of gold, Delphine could close her eyes and imagine her face on her mother’s, and soft arms around around her chest. Dellie would lay with her head in Anne’s lap and listen to all the stories the freckled girl could muster, even the ones that weren’t about her mother - tales of adventure, courage, strength, and grace. She could find pieces of herself in the protagonists that Anne spoke of because, It’s important to see yourself in the people you aspire to, Dellie. I see these traits in you, and I admire you for them. 

But aside from afternoons curled up into Anne’s side, the youngest days of Dellie’s girlhood were distant from her. She wished she could write down the things she did remember, tell a story of the home she’d flowered in. 

“Uncle Gil?” she asked. From where she stood at the window, she could see Uncle Gil look up from his clothbound text and smile.

“Yes, honeybee?” 

“Do you have any empty journals in your study that I could use? I want to practice my writing.” 

Gilbert closed his book and leaned forward, always pleased to hear his niece take on new academic endeavors. Even at the humble age of ten whole years, she was as bright as both her mother and father, and had somehow learned Gilbert’s insatiable motivation. 

“Of course. Are you planning on writing one of your Aunt Anne’s tales of ‘grand adventure and romance?’”

Dellie turned around and leaned on the window frame, pursing her lips as she considered her options. 

“I want to. But I think I also want to write a story that I know, one that I lived through. I haven’t been on any grand adventures.” 

“Now that’s not true. Come here,” Uncle Gil replied, pulling her into his lap. Dellie leaned her head onto his shoulder and let out a sigh. Even when she preferred to keep her worries private, Uncle Gil had a way of snagging the truth right from her.

“All the heroes in Aunt Anne’s stories ride to far off places and battle the greatest forces of evil ever known by mankind!” 

“You’ve tamed plenty of tempests,” Gilbert countered.

“Like what?” 

“You marched right up to the Avonlea school board and demanded that you be allowed in the school with the rest of the kids. I think that was very courageous.” 

Dellie frowned, burying herself as deep into denial as she would go. 

“That was nothing.” 

“It wasn’t nothing! You’re the first child who looks like you to ever go to the Avonlea school.” Gilbert bounced her on his knee to ease her drooping mood. “What about the time those women in town were saying something mean about your mother? You poured their lemonade down their dresses.”

Dellie’s lips formed into a pout that had her Uncle Gil wrapped around her finger even from when she was a baby. “Daddy punished me for a whole day after that.”

“Because it’s impolite to ruin dresses, not because you weren’t brave. He didn’t want to tell you, but he was so proud. You’re more like you mother than you know.” Gilbert pressed a kiss to her cheek. “How’s that for a story idea?”

Delphine twirled one of Uncle Gil’s curls with her pinky while she considered this, but ultimately shook her head in adamant finality. 

“I want to save my story for when I’m older, so I can write bibliography of my life-” 

“ Biography , darling.” 

“- and make it a best-seller, like Aunt Anne’s book on Avonlea. But I think there’s one story I know just as well as my own.” 

“Oh yeah? Which one is that?” 

Delphine smiled with trickster eyes she learned from her uncle, then poked his nose. 

“Yours and Aunt Anne’s.”

*

1899.

Back in the days of Gilbert’s apprenticeship with Dr. Ward, the aged man had seen the weary circles beneath the boy’s eyes and cocked a brow. 

“Girl trouble?” he asked with a hint of humor. Gilbert fought the urge to shoot a panicked look toward the door, the other side of which held a very quiet secretary. Yes, there had been girl trouble - what with Gilbert trying to figure out the cause of his seemingly endless tachycardia. No, his tired eyes were not the result of his own uncertainty. 

“Delphine is teething. Poor thing hasn’t slept or eaten much in days,” Gilbert confessed. 

“That’s a simple fix, my boy. Why didn’t you ask me sooner?” 

This was how the Blythe-Lacroix home had been saved by a simple scrap of paper with a list of safe, at-home teething remedies. Gum massage, a cold spoon, a damp washcloth… At the kitchen table where he always seemed to sit with Delphine, Gilbert pulled a spoon from ice cold water and placed it into the baby’s open mouth. The tension on her tiny forehead disappeared, and her relief seemed immediate. 

“Dr. Ward acted like I should’ve known this already,” Gilbert lamented, rubbing Dellie’s back as she cooed. “But the medical journals don’t really report on anything other than bacterial transmission and obscure cases of rare disease. Where’s a fellow supposed to start with the basics?” 

Dellie took out the spoon and waved it in Gilbert’s face, before sticking it right back into her mouth.

“I suppose you’re right. I should’ve learned these things from my mother. Not like I would’ve enjoyed asking dad about these things, even if he was still around.” Gilbert paused, pressing a kiss to the top of the baby’s head. “Don’t worry, Dellie. You can always ask me anything. No matter what it is. And I’ll tell you all of my secrets so that we’re equal.”

The little baby could not know then that she would grow to share every little secret with this scrawny uncle of hers. He would know of every fear that clutched at her heart, and he would soothe them with his steady reassurance. He would let her reveal all of her misbehavings, and absolve her of her childhood guilts with forgiveness that came as easy as breathing. He would understand on the day that she’d confess that she’d fallen in love with a white boy at her college, and how desperately she wanted to earn his respect (Gilbert  knew she’d already had it). Those days were a long ways away, but he’d know it all.

If he wanted it to be fair, he had to begin the exchange himself. So he did, with his tender words.

“Delphine, I think I’m falling in love with Anne.” 

Dellie ceased her cooing, staring up at her apprehensive uncle with understanding eyes. Gilbert peeked up at the doorway to make sure Bash wasn’t eavesdropping before quietly continuing. 

“It doesn’t feel like I thought it might. I always knew that I wanted to be around her, and that she was really pretty, but lately…” Gilbert sighed. “She’s just seriously beautiful. And so smart and courageous. And she’s so good with you and never has anything unkind to say about anyone.”

Dellie grabbed his finger with her whole hand and shook it excitedly. 

“I know what you’re thinking. What about that blonde lady you met one time? Winnie is...a friend. She’s charming and nice, no one can deny that. But Anne appeals to a different part of me - complements and cherishes it. She held my hand and it felt like she was supposed to.” He scoffed. “I don’t know, I sound absolutely ridiculous.” 

“I don’t think that’s ridiculous at all,” Bash interrupted from the doorway. Gilbert jumped, pulling Dellie a bit closer to his chest, then glared at the intruder. “Sorry, Blythe, I didn’t mean to overhear. I just wanted to check up on my daughter.” 

“I think she feels better. She hasn’t cried in a while,” Gilbert stated shortly, handing over the girl who’d reached grabby hands up towards her father. Bash settled the baby on his shoulder and sat down at the table opposite of Gilbert. The young boy looked like he was steeling himself for battle, but kept his lips locked together. 

“So...Anne, huh? Can’t say I blame you.” 

“I don’t want to talk about this,” Gilbert said sternly, but only half heartedly, the way people quietly cry out I need to tell someone !” 

“Why not? You’re not embarrassed are you?” 

“Of course I am!” Gilbert snapped. “Or...I don’t know. No, I’m not. At least, not because of her, she’s amazing. It’s embarrassing because I see her and…” 

“Spit it out, Blythe. It’s okay.” 

Gilbert released a shaky sigh. Then, he muttered, “These days I can barely breathe when she’s around, and it’s all I can do to keep myself from grinning like an absolute idiot. It’s entirely overwhelming and I don’t like it.” 

Bash smirked the way he did when he thought he knew something Gilbert didn’t.

“I’ll grant you that it’s overwhelming, but let me give you my advice on something. Look at this darling baby girl.” Bash lifted Delphine up in the air, and she giggled in delight. “Every time I see her, the air gets stolen from my lungs and I smile like a moke. There’s nothing more overwhelming than the love I have for my daughter, but I wouldn’t trade it for anything. Gilbert, your budding love for Anne with an E? Cherish it. Nurture it. Let it grow. I promise it will be worth it.” 

Gilbert turned his gaze down to the table, fighting the rising blush on his cheeks. 

“See, even little Dellie agrees?” Bash added, waving the baby’s hand. Dellie giggled as she bounced, causing a little smile to dimple the corner of Gilbert’s lips. 

“So, what do I do?” Gilbert asked after a silent moment.

“I don’t know, Blythe. That’s for you to figure out.” 

But the realization had been enough excitement for the young lad that night. He nodded, then pushed himself up by the heels of his palms. 

“I’m off to get some sleep before another tooth pops up,” Gilbert said. 

Bash placed his hand on Gilbert’s shoulder as he passed by, giving it a reassuring squeeze, then shoved the boy off in the direction of his quiet room.

*

1903.

Five-year-old Delphine saw things that no one else did. The endless orchard in her backyard was a vast kingdom of magical apples, guarded by tree soldiers who protected her against all the evil monsters that lurked past the corn field. Tiny faery people danced around the enchanted apples, and talked to Dellie when she was lonely and anxious for what Anne called “a bosom friend.” 

“Do you have bosom friends, Anne?” Dellie asked one day when Anne was kneading sweet bread in the kitchen. 

“I do! I’m very lucky to have a few kindred spirits.” 

Delphine tried out the mouthful of kindred spirit on her tongue, but was quick to remember to adhere to her point. 

“Who are they?”

“Well, for one, your uncle Gilbert.” 

Delphine jumped from sitting to kneeling in her chair with a cry of glee.

“Uncle Gil is your bosom friend!? ” 

“Of course he is,” Anne laughed. “Bosom friends are people that know you very, very well. They’re kind to you and make you smile. They’re people who belong in your life.” 

“What do you mean belong? ” 

Anne wiped the back of her wrist across her chin, smearing flower over her starry freckles, and thought about it. 

“Remember that Venus Fly Trap I showed you in a book a few days ago?” Dellie nodded, always paying close attention to anything Anne had to say. “Would you ever want a flower like that? Would something like that ever belong in your garden?” 

Though Delphine had been stunned speechless by the by the carnivorous flower, her face twisted into disgust at the thought of ever owning one. She shook her head slowly, scowling as if she’d smelled something sour.

“What flowers would you rather have instead?” 

“The pretty blue ones from momma’s garden!” Dellie decided. 

“Exactly. Just like flowers, some people just belong in your life. They’re the people that you like to see and be around. You sometimes don’t know why you need them, but they’re there. A bosom friend isn’t just any flower from the garden. It’s a friend that makes your heart swell up big like a balloon because you’re so happy to be with them. It’s someone you really love.” 

Delphine took in this flurry of information quietly, considering with all the seriousness her young brain could muster. 

“So you really love Uncle Gil?” 

Anne flushed, knowing that Delphine didn’t know quite what she was asking, and forced a smile on her face. 

“I do, Dellie.” 

The little girl spun to look in the doorway with the brightest smile she’d ever donned. Anne looked up from her bread, meeting eyes with Gilbert who was gazing at her with eyes heavy with some unnameable emotion. 

“Uncle Gil! Did you know that you’re Aunt Anne’s bosom friend because she loves you very much?” 

Gilbert’s eyes snapped to Anne, but he was quick to cover up his surprise.

“I did!” he replied easily, though his eyes spoke a message that was much more timid. 

“Then is she one of your bosom friends? ‘Cause you love her very much too?” 

“That’s right, honeybee.”

But he wasn’t looking at Delphine. For a moment, Anne felt like leaving her doughy bread on the table and running back home to Green Gables. Gilbert loved her as a friend, certainly, but the way he’d say it just then meant more, and that terrified her. But as soon as he gave her a small smile, Anne’s worries melted away. A barely perceivable thought flitted into the back of her mind - What if she didn’t mind the romantic look in his eyes? What if it’s what she wanted? Unable to fight the urge to return the shy smile, Anne’s gaze lingered on him without her realizing it. 

Delphine, on the other hand, was entirely oblivious to the moment transpiring between the two blooming adults. She grew bored with the silence, and hopped onto the floor, scurrying across the room to the door. 

“Kay! Well, I’m going to go look for bosom flower friends in the Enchanted Orchard,” Delphine said sliding out. 

“Be back before supper!” Gilbert called before the door could slam shut behind her. 

Later that night, when the sun had begun to hug the horizon in a far off place Dellie wasn’t allowed to travel to - Daddy had told her so - she skipped back to the house with a handful of flowers that she wanted to give Aunt Anne. That way, Aunt Anne could have more bosom friends, since sometimes Uncle Gil was a little serious. But what she found in the living room gave her pause.

There was Aunt Anne and Uncle Gil standing in the middle of the living room, so close together that Delphine was sure they’d hug each other. Isn’t that was bosom friends did? He was tall compared to her, and Anne had to look up to stare into his eyes. They were speaking to each other, but it was too quiet for Dellie to hear. Most of the time they used words that were too big for her to understand, anyways. 

She’d had never seen people act like this before. Uncle Gil’s hands held Anne’s, but instead of looking happy, Anne looked like she’d seen something very scary. Surely Uncle Gil didn’t scare Anne. They always smiled when they were together. Dellie had a vague thought that the scene looked right out of her fairy tale books, and Aunt Anne was the most beautiful princess in all of Avonlea. Her prince looked like he agreed. 

Just as Gilbert bowed his head and grazed his lips against Anne’s, Delphine broke the silence with her unmistakable, curious voice.

“What are you doing?” 

The pair split apart across the room quicker than a stray cat darting from sight. Uncle Gil leaned on the window, hiding his face from Anne with a vengeance.  Even Dellie could see the gears turning in his head, but she didn’t know why. 

“What do you have there?” Anne deflected, voice shaking.

“I brought you some flowers so you would have lots of bosom friends.” 

Anne let out a half-hysterical laugh and leaned over to hug the blessed child, a tear sliding down her cheek. 

“These are lovely, Delphine, but I don’t need more bosom friends! Not when I have you! ” 

Delphine’s own eyes became misty at that, and she clung to Anne with determined fierceness. Later that night, Dellie told her father all about her new bosom friend and how excited she was to see her again. 

But Aunt Anne did not come back to the Blythe-Lacroix house for many, many months. 

*

1904.

Anne once told Delphine that she had a thing called empathy. She’d taken the little girl’s hands in hers and kissed the backs of her palms. It means that when people are happy, you’re happy. And when people are sad, you’re sad. You feel the things they do, and it makes you such a beautiful soul. Empathy then became Dellie’s new favorite word. She explored outside and felt the peace of the trees, and the exhaustion of Uncle Gil’s bees as they labored away. She felt the warmth of the growing flowers and the joy of some of the neighbor kids laughing in the forest. She took on the world’s heart and made it her own, and by the time she came home, she was ready to just be Delphine. 

Dellie moved through her quiet house, smiling at the lingering scent of fresh bread Dad had made a few hours ago. Just as she was about to head to her room for a nap, she heard a quiet sniffle come from inside Uncle Gil’s room. 

She knocked on the door - as she’d been taught by stern faces - but Uncle Gil didn’t answer. Nudging the door open with worried fingers, Dellie’s heart plummeted to the floor. Uncle Gilbert was lying on his bed, a few tears dripping from the corners of his jaw. His eyes were blank, but when he saw Dellie standing in the doorway, he turned his face away and quickly wiped away his tears.

“No, it’s okay, isn’t it?” Dellie rambled. “You always tell me it’s okay if I cry. You can cry too...if you want.” 

She couldn’t see his face, but she did hear the quiet sob that escaped his lips. For a moment, Delphine wasn’t sure what to do. Uncle Gil always had an explanation, a reassuring word, but this time he was the one crying. It would’ve been easier if he said that he was okay, because then the utter sadness blooming in Dellie for her uncle would’ve disappeared. Suddenly, she didn’t like having empathy anymore. She just wanted Uncle Gil to feel better.

Climbing into the bed, Delphine hugged Gilbert from behind and nuzzled her nose into his back. Gilbert’s hand came up and grabbed hers lightly. 

“Why are you crying, Uncle Gil?” she asked quietly. His back rose and fell against her as he took in a deep breath. 

“Sometimes you lose things, honeybee, and you cry because they’re gone,” he whispered. 

“What did you lose?” 

Uncle Gil didn’t answer. Delphine wondered for a moment if he’d heard her, but stopped herself from asking again. When she was this sad, she never liked to talk about it. She liked to be quiet. So for a few long minutes, Delphine held Gilbert the way he’d always held her when she cried. 

Eventually Gilbert turned around, bashful because of his red eyes. But Delphine didn’t laugh or tease. She only wiped away the tear streaks with her thumbs and pressed her lips to his cheek. 

“I love you, Uncle Gil.” 

Another tear slid down Gilbert’s nose. 

“I love you too, honeybee.” 

She thought for a moment, then offered, “When I’m sad, I like to be around my friends. Should I go get Daddy for you? Or Aunt Anne?” 

Something in what she said made Gilbert’s face darken with heartsickness, but he had the strength to shake his head. 

“You’re all the company I need,” was all he said. 

(When she was all grown Delphine would ask Gilbert about that occurrence - her, exploring his expansive library, and him, completing patient records. The question had left her lips in the quiet of the night: why had he been crying alone in his bed all those years ago? Was it because he missed his father?

But Gilbert only peered down at the gold band around his finger and gave a sad little smile. No, he’d said. That was the day he’d first proposed to Anne. It hadn’t gone well, and though it ended up okay in the end, the devastation that broke Gilbert’s heart in half had been very real. 

“It must’ve been hard. To be strong for me when I was so young and didn’t understand,” she murmured. 

Gilbert shook his head. 

“You understood, Del. You understood better than anyone.” 

These quiet talks in his office were decades away, but the moments leading up to them were ones that Delphine would hold onto always. )

*

1906.

Knock knock knock.

Anne’s fog laden eyes rose from the tea kettle, but she didn’t have the strength to turn around. Still, it could’ve been Doctor Ward, or Elijah, or...someone important. She just needed a few more moments to collect herself. 

“Delphine, could you see who that is, please?” Anne paused before adding, “If it’s a stranger, I’ll answer it.” 

The little girl of nearly eight had been solemn at the table, sipping her tea to keep herself from asking questions. Questions, it seemed, made Anne cry. What was Uncle Gil sick with? Why can’t I go see him? Is he going to die? She’d asked them all once, and that had been enough to learn that she should never ask them again. At Anne’s request, though, she rose from the table and swung open the door. 

Before her was a very tall, very beautiful woman who looked like one of the dolls girls brought to school. Her hair reminded Delphine of stories of Goldilocks, and she smiled down at the little girl with warmth that made Dellie shrink away. Returning to Anne’s side, she muttered, “I’m sorry, I don’t know who it is.” 

Anne nodded, and she turned with heavy movements, only to jolt at the face in the doorway. In all the different instances Anne had seen Winifred Rose, she’d never been displeased to see her. But something about the hopeful, desperate look on the woman’s face made Anne’s stomach turn sour. 

The women were silent for several moments. Winifred seemed to be aware of the thin ice in the kitchen, and maintained her position in the doorframe.

“To what do we owe the pleasure, Miss Rose?” Anne stated, perhaps unfairly caustically. 

“I heard Gilbert is sick.” 

Delphine’s eyebrows shot up. How did this woman know Uncle Gil? 

“I’m sorry, but you can’t see him,” Anne replied.

“And why not?” Winifred had matched Anne’s stern tone. 

“Because he’s sick. He’s contagious. ” 

“It’s typhoid, Anne. I’m not going to drink his bedside water. I just came to-” 

“To what?” 

Winifred didn’t answer right away. A tender spot in Anne’s chest made itself known, revealing some of her hidden fears. What if Winifred Rose was here to make amends with the young man she’d turned away all those years ago? Would he be happy to have her by his side? Anne clenched her teeth. What right did this woman have? To come into this house now when he was already halfway gone, when Anne had been the one nursing him, changing his chamber pot and wiping his sweat? What right did Winifred Rose have to come in and suggest that she- 

Delphine’s hand buried itself in the skirts of Anne’s dress, and Anne brought an arm up to wrap around Dellie’s back. No matter how scary it was that Uncle Gil was sick, or that Anne was fighting with a woman in the kitchen, Delphine always felt safe as long as Anne was beside her. It was the innocent child at her side that reined back Anne’s fury.

“I came to say goodbye,” Miss Rose said finally. “Dr. Ward said the case is dire. I just wanted to see him one last-” 

But just like that, the rage was back. Anne tore away from Delphine and stepped into Winifred’s space, jabbing a finger into her perfect pale face. 

“Do not speak that way around her. She’s already frightened enough,” she whispered sharply. “Do not come into this house and suggest that he won’t recover.”

Understanding washed over Winifred, and she peered over Anne’s shoulder at the frightened daughter of a widow. Maybe Anne hadn’t only been speaking of Delphine. 

“Anne,” she began, voice compassionate. “I know this isn’t fair to you. I can’t imagine what it must be like to have to be strong for Delphine. I know that you love him, and to have to watch him wither away with all your history still unresolved must be awful. Trust me, I know what’s it’s like to have regrets, but I didn’t come here today to resolve any. I came by to say goodbye to a friend, and to check up on another. You’re a stronger woman than I am, Anne Shirley Cuthbert. It’s unfair, all of it. And I’m sorry.” 

Anne’s eyes were concrete, and she glared at Winifred as if she were the plague doctor delivering Typhoid directly to Gilbert. But she wasn’t. She was an old friend, one who cared for her and Gilbert very much, even if she did surface for Anne all of her tired insecurities. 

“That’s not true,” Anne stated, face still hard. “If you loved someone enough, you’d do it for them. You’d see you could weather it.”  

Right at that moment, a cry of agony resounded through the house from the room above. Agony and fear filled Anne’s eyes, and she looked like she might collapse into Winifred’s arms, but she heard a tiny whimper behind her. 

Delphine Lacroix was shaking, frightened for her life and for her uncle’s. She wished she was in some other house where she couldn’t hear him in so much pain. It was all too much, she didn’t want to be here- 

Anne knelt to the ground and wrapped Delphine in her warm arms. The little girl wept and wept into Anne’s shoulder. 

“Shhh, honeybee. Remember what I said? Deep breaths. In through your nose, out through your mouth,” Anne soothed. “He’s going to be alright. He’s stubborn, just like us, you’ll see.” 

Eventually Delphine’s tremors lessened and she pulled back. Anne kissed her forehead before rising to her feet. Behind them, Winifred’s face had grown pale. 

“How long as he been like this?” she uttered quietly. 

“Two weeks, getting worse by the day. The doctor says it won’t be long now.” Delphine shuddered. Long now until what? “You can’t come into the room, but you can see him from the doorway. Would that please you, Miss Rose?”

Winifred nodded, only moments away from taking it all back. For a life spent seeing sick people every day, she’d never been so frightened. Delphine took her by the hand and followed behind Anne up the hollow, rickety stairs. 

Even when the door to Gilbert’s bedroom opened and released the scent of disease out into the hallway, the little girl at her side did not falter. Not when her uncle was thin and colorless under his blankets. Not when he released a groan of pain in his sleep. 

Sebastian was at the young man’s side, wiping sweat from Gilbert’s brow with dark eyes. Anne took the cloth from his hands, gesturing for him to sit down across the room and rest. She leaned over Gilbert’s bedside, taking in the withering face of the man she loved beyond all measure, and bit her lips against a sob. When Anne leaned over and pressed her trembling lips to Gilbert’s forehead, a tiny tear slipped down Dellie’s cheek. 

Finding her voice, Delphine began to recite a prayer she’d forgotten she knew under the softness of her breath. 

“Lord, make me an instrument of your peace. Where there is hatred, let me sow love. Where there is injury, pardon. Where there is doubt, faith. Where there is despair, hope. Where there is darkness, light. And where there is sadness, joy…”

Uncle Gil would always joke that her prayer saved his life - along with the heavenly favor of her mother who’d had a partiality to prayer. But he also attributed his health to the tender attentions of Anne, and when he learned she’d barely left his side in his illness, he all but dissolved into bliss.

It was in the days following the turn of Gilbert’s illness that Delphine realized just what Aunt Anne was to Gilbert, and what Gilbert was to Aunt Anne. She’d known it instinctively, realized she’d been watching them grow all along. 

But if she needed any confirmation, she had it the day the weather turned warm and the rain broke away - just thirteen days after Uncle Gil’s fever broke. Dellie was walking along the outer edges of the orchard collecting flowers for the house when she saw Uncle Gil pass by a few rows over. At first, Dellie was merely delighted to see him up and walking away without swaying in dizziness. It was only when he let out a loud cry of laughter that she realized he was walking as fast as he could toward something. 

Anne met him halfway, falling into his arms with a grateful cry that made all the apple blooms on the trees keen to the sound. If Gilbert had been healthier, he might’ve lifted her up and spun her around, but his muscles were still gaining their strength back and Anne seemed to be the one doing the supporting. She was glad to do it, and she showered his face and hair with kisses and tears. 

In the warm Avonlea sunlight, surrounded by the apple trees Gilbert’s father had planted all those years ago, Anne took her love by the face and finished what they’d started in his parlor all those years ago. Their kiss swept the wind into the trees and birdsong into the air. It was strange to a child’s eye, but Delphine still recognized euphoria when she saw it. 

*

1907.

Delphine could count on one hand the things she really knew about weddings. One - she knew that when Uncle Gil and Anne had their wedding, they would be husband and wife, like Momma and Dad had been. Two - she knew that Aunt Anne would wear the prettiest white dress Dellie had ever seen. Three - she knew that Anne had to have something, blue. Dellie wasn’t sure why this was, but she decided to give Anne her prized blue button, the big one that came from one of Momma’s old coats. Four - she knew that Uncle Gil and Anne weren’t supposed to see each other before the wedding. She was still trying to find a fifth thing she knew for sure, since she never trusted what the girls said at school.

That’s why when she heard Aunt Anne’s laughter on the back porch the day of the wedding, she froze in her tracks. Peering outside the window overlooking the porch, Dellie found Anne and Uncle Gil hugging against one of the beams. His face was buried in her neck, and Aunt Anne laughed with a sunny grin. Gilbert held the side of Anne’s face and pressed a kiss to her other cheek, whispering a sweet secret into her freckles. Roses flooded onto Anne’s face, but she kissed him anyways, smiling into his lips. 

Delphine had seen enough. She swung the door open and tapped her foot like a parent catching a misbehaving child. Uncle Gil pulled away from his love, but kept an arm wrapped around her waist, smirking down at the stern little girl.

“Yes Delphine?”

“You aren’t supposed to see each other!” she exclaimed. 

“Oh sweetheart, that’s just a superstition,” Aunt Anne explained, though Dellie’s nose crinkled at the word. “Besides, I’m here to collect you. You wanted us to get dressed together, remember? Like princesses.” 

Dellie’s resolve crumbled a little as she remembered why Aunt Anne was here. She’d always wanted to watch her mother dress in all the old dresses that were left in her trunk, the hidden gems with the baby blue lace and soft fabric. Anne’s wedding dress was a lot like it, extravagant with all its elegant details and beads, and she’d been dying to see Anne get dressed in it. 

“Alright,” Delphine decided eventually. “I don’t understand why you aren’t allowed to see each other anyways, so I guess it’s okay.” 

By the end of the day, Delphine could fill a book with all the wonderful things she’d learned about weddings. She learned that brides sat in front of their mirrors while they did their hair, speaking the way women in love do about the future. Anne was quiet, her thoughts only on the incomparable man who was likely adjusting his tie in front his own mirror. Miss Diana and Aunt Marilla chatted as they tied Anne into her dress and adjusted the lacy skirts to perfection, but Delphine could only stare up in wonder. She felt a strange homesickness for the woman she’d grow to be, even if she couldn’t name the feeling, and ached to one day wear a wedding dress of her own. 

She couldn’t explain why her throat was oddly caught as she watched Uncle Gil and Aunt Anne stand in the Blythe Orchard together. Maybe it was the way they clutched at each other’s hands, or breathed out their hellos to each other the way people said prayers. It could’ve been the birdsong in the trees that sounded just what Dellie imagined angels sounded like when they sang. With the sweet morning sun on her face, she could not be aware of her own wisdom - how somewhere in the depths of her heart, she recognized the coming together of two souls. And when Uncle Gilbert slid a glimmering golden band on to Anne’s finger, Delphine finally understood what marriage meant. 

The fragrance of the sweet apple blossoms swept over Delphine’s nose as she listened intently to the reverent vow that one day she might repeat herself. 

“I take you, Gilbert Blythe, matched to my intellect, proponent of my happiness, friend of my heart, to be my life mate and my husband. I promise to have you and hold you -  for better, for worse as long as we both shall live.”

Uncle Gilbert repeated the words smiling so much that Delphine’s own grin split her face in two. When he pulled his bride into his arms and kissed her, cheers of jubilation sounded from their friends, family, and small Delphine, of whom no one was happier. 

*

1908.

“I didn’t realize then that Aunt Anne would be moving into this house,” Delphine admitted to Uncle Gil as he listened to her finish her story. “I really liked going to your wedding. I wish I could go back to that day and do it all over again.” 

Uncle Gilbert smiled warmly, rubbing Dellie’s shoulders affectionately. 

“Me too, honeybee, me too.” Suddenly, Delphine took his cheeks into her hands and stared seriously into his face. His cheeks squished against her hands as he smiled. “What are you doing?” 

“Memorizing every little detail about you so that I can write it down. Now I think I might need Aunt Anne’s help, there’s a lot of pieces of your face to know.” 

“I’m sure I’d be happy to help out,” called a warm, familiar voice. Dellie dropped her hands, launched herself out of Uncle Gil’s lap, and fell into Aunt Anne’s warm hug. She loved the way Anne ran her fingers over her hair, and smiled into Anne’s apron when she felt a kiss deposited on the top of her head. 

“How was your trip to Kingsport?” Dellie asked when she pulled back. 

“Very productive. My publisher is quite pleased with this new draft of Averil’s Atonement, ” Anne answered nonchalantly. She turned to her side where Gilbert had wrapped an arm around her shoulders. She kissed him gently, fixing a sprig of hair in his eyes.  “Hello darling.”

Gilbert slid his arm to her waist, glancing down at her flat stomach to see if there had been any growth of the baby sleeping there. It was still much too early to expect any sort of noticeable difference, but the presence of his own child in the room was delightfully distracting. He was anxious to meet the baby, to hold her and see her play with Delphine, to teach her everything he knew. 

“It looked like I walked in on a serious conversation. What are you two scheming up this time?” 

“Delphine has it in her head that she’d like to start practicing her prose composition. I can’t possibly begin to imagine where she learned that from.” 

Anne grinned at this - this news delighting her even more than her publisher’s satisfaction. 

“I want to write about your love story with Uncle Gilbert!” Delphine explained excitedly. Anne snuck a pleased glance at her husband.

“That’s my favorite story! You’ll let me be your editor, won’t you?” Anne pleaded. Dellie laughed and nodded, slightly embarrassed at her Aunt’s eagerness. 

“I have to write it down first!” 

Gilbert’s ears perked up at this. 

“Speaking of which, give me just a moment.” 

Uncle Gil hastened from the room, only to return a few moments later with something in his hands that made Dellie’s pulse quicken. She beheld the journal of caramel gold with a momentous feeling in her chest. As Gilbert handed her the journal, he knew he was handing her a world of possibilities, and an endless expanse of possibilities. She could write the mysteries of the Universe, or solve suffering with her words. When she grew older, if she wrote for real, she’d gift the world with her uncomparable spirit in a way that would cause ripples in her readers. 

But for now, Gilbert thought there was nothing he’d love to read more than the story of how he fell in love through the bright eyes of his wondrous girl.