#point of the post is that I've seen the same tired joke every week since s2 came out and I'm just tired of the 'Shadow and the narrative

[yggdraseed]

An Incomplete Analysis of the Sukunadome

I stress the point that this is an inherently incomplete analysis. It's getting late, I'm tired and unhappy, and… well, the fight isn't over yet, so there's no way this analysis could be complete even if I felt like it. However, it's on my mind, and I feel the need to start exerting myself more on these things. Sometimes sweat is the better medicine. I know this is a long one and doesn’t have any pictures, but if we all support each other, we’ll get through it together.

Full disclosure, I wish more people had gotten filtered by this fight and just stopped talking about Jujutsu Kaisen by now. Like yeah, I think it's great different people see things in different ways, but let's all be honest with ourselves here, most of the people criticizing this fight are not doing so with any sort of literary or artistic perspective or good faith. Most of it is Gojo fans who are still crying, seething, vomiting, pissing, and shitting over the fact that the character they attached their ego to didn't win Jujutsu Kaisen like they wanted. If this describes you, well, this post will probably do you some good, but I'm confident nobody who takes the stance that Gojo should have won would have the space in their mind for what I'm about to say about Sukunadome.

Because that's what I'm calling it. "The Sukuna Cycle" was maybe a little funny for a week or two, but like most memes about this series, it wasn't really based on the story so much as it was on an agenda. Kusakabe was part of the fight since Yuji and Higuruma entered, and up until Miguel, we knew all the combatants who would be tagging in were there. We knew Yuta was off dealing with Kenjaku and would return, we knew Maki was in play, and there really weren't a lot of switches. Just Choso leaving and coming back, Ui Ui retrieving Higuruma's and Gojo's corpses, and… you know, actually, I think that's it. Sure isn't as much as the "Sukuna Cycle" memes made it out to be, huh?

Okay, if you haven't noticed yet, I'm a big JJK fan and a big JJK fandom hater. I think JJK has the worst Western internet fanbase I've seen in a long time, with only a few oases scattered across the internet where you can find intelligent life. Like it's insane what kind of bullshit a person can convince themselves of.

However, I'm not analyzing JJK's fanbase, I'm analyzing JJK. Someday we'll litigate whether or not Lobotomy Kaisen was really funny enough to justify how badly it ruined this fanbase's ability to objectively, productively engage with with one of the most competently written and culturally impactful manga to come out this century. Today is not that day.

So Sukuna's got four arms and knows how to use them. He's got four eyes and so much sass one mouth wasn't enough for the amount of trash he's got to talk to the youths of today. Just on a basic level, having four arms would be such an insignificant power in any other Shonen as to almost be a joke. Yet with how jujutsu sorcery functions as a power system and how adept Sukuna is at using every possible advantage at his disposal - even going so far as to take what probably should be disadvantages and twist them to work for him - having the ability to make hand seals while fighting hand-to-hand, and being able to chant without interrupting his breathing, are inseparable from Sukuna's godlike fighting ability. I love how something seemingly so mundane is such a huge x factor for Sukuna.

We continually see how Sukuna is a complex, but fundamentally vile antagonist. He has a very rich, detailed view of the world, but one that fundamentally reduces every other human being to be his playthings and food. It's just that Sukuna says, "Don't like it? Then get stronger." It's a very Social Darwinist, late stage capitalist view to be coming from the Heian Era, and I think that maybe it's intentional. Shitty people are shitty in mostly the same ways, it's just they find new things to be shitty about or to use to be shitty with.

Like if that were all it is, it'd make Sukuna so effective as a villain to hate and would slot so nicely into Jujutsu Kaisen's overarching social and political commentary. Cruelty within suffering, selfishness as a strength and a weakness, the unfairness of how the strength to pursue one's agency is unevenly distributed and how the haves don’t realize how easily they could have instead been have-nots, it's all there.

But there’s this inherent charisma to Sukuna that I think is intentional. He has this noblesse oblige where he’s so inherently aware of his greatness that he doesn’t have a problem with giving credit where credit is due. Like he talks all the trash when he’s fighting Jogo, but where Gojo’s insults come across as puerile and blunt, Sukuna’s always displaying this wit to him. And when the battle’s over, he acknowledges that even though Jogo wasn’t as strong as him, he was stronger than most and could have gone even further if he hadn’t held himself back. He starts off belittling Gojo in their fight, but by the end, he expresses a profound respect and gratitude towards Gojo. Like it’s a very warped form of those sentiments, but I think it’s sincere. Even with Ishigori, when Sukuna fails to cut him the first time, he just acknowledges it was disrespectful to hold back and that he’ll give it full force the next strike.

Something to keep in mind is that everything Megumi warned Yuji about when it comes to ancient sorcerers applies to Sukuna as well. They’re not treated as uniformly, unambiguously evil anymore than anyone else in JJK is, and are acknowledged as having fundamentally different world views about violence and the value of human life. Kashimo, for instance, seems to value his life only because he’s able to risk his life and lay it on the line. They’re people from an era where children died so young that parents often gave them numbered names so as to not get too attached until they’d see if their kids actually were going to make it or not. If you didn’t give your whole life over to a goal, you probably wouldn’t achieve it. Whereas modern sorcerers, modern people, have all these complex and sometimes contradictory views and needs, ancient sorcerers show a tendency to shave everything away except their one singular conviction because that was what you had to do in an era of much shorter life expectancies and peril on all sides. You’d be very lucky to accomplish one life goal, let alone as many as people of today set out to achieve: graduating high school, graduating college, getting a job, starting a family, and hopefully having one or two passions on the side. Fundamentally different worldviews from fundamentally different periods of history.

And Sukuna is no different. His goal is simple: partake in the many colors and flavors of humanity through mortal combat in the arena of sorcery. Sukuna’s love for sorcery runs deep. He’s always curious about different cursed techniques, even ones that are pedestrian to a sorcerer of his level, like Nanako’s smartphone-based technique. He reminds me of a quote from Baki: “Someone who works hard can never beat someone who enjoys himself.” Sukuna has clearly put forth great effort to master sorcery, but clearly doesn’t see it as work. He sees it as just doing what he enjoys and is good at.

Unfortunately for everyone else, he enjoys killing and is extremely good at it. Sukuna is the ultimate ethical heat death of the “live for yourself, cherish your own agency, don’t let yourself be controlled” mindset that is the ideological starting point of JJK. It’s a very dark, extreme interpretation of Buddhist non-attachment, where even compassion is an attachment to ultimately shed. Sukuna lives perfectly freely, including being free from guilt or compassion.

Naturally, there’s an exception. All things seem to have exceptions. In Sukuna’s case, that would be Uraume. I’ve been fascinated by their dynamic since we first learned of Uraume’s allegiance to Sukuna during Shibuya and I still can’t wait to know more. Suffice to say, Sukuna dotes on Uraume, forgiving their mistakes and seeming to enjoy their company not just because of their service to him, but because their existence makes him happy. I’m reminded of Power in Chainsaw Man, how she was seemingly incapable of empathy or mercy until she met Meowy.

Honestly, Sukuna reminds me a lot of a lot of characters in Chainsaw Man. People who are trying to climb from this state of misery, of struggling just to meet basic desires, and learning to be human. Yet Sukuna is so strong he never needed to learn to be human. He never needed to cooperate with others to survive — or at least, doesn’t seem to believe he did — and so he never saw the value in it. And so he’s basically brute forced his way around having to undergo an arc like Denji’s, and has instead ended up a hedonistic black hole devising all these complicated philosophical arguments to justify what is, really, a very simplistic, predatory desire to only satisfy his basic material wants and creative interests and nothing else for anyone else.

But like, it’s not that simple. If you give to others, you get something immaterial in return. I can’t quantity it or define it, but I’m sure most of you know what I mean. The happiness that comes from taking care of others’ needs, and the deeper levels beyond that happiness. Like I do believe that’s the subtext behind Binding Vows as metaphor: that you almost never give without getting in return. You might not get the same thing back, in the same form, but being changed by the act of putting the needs and wants of others before your own even temporarily still is part of the exchange. It’s part of becoming complete as a human being.

Sukuna has defied that exchange and broken the cycle, and I don’t think it’s inherently for his own benefit. There are some thing about being human that you don’t just get to opt out of, no matter how much you claim you’re more than or less than human. Even if Sukuna doesn’t think he’s lost something of value, he has. And that something of value is inherent to the whole point of this final battle.

Jujutsu Kaisen is basically working on two big problems. There are lots of ideas at play in the series, but there are two fundamental problems for which every fiight, every character arc, every turn of the gears consitutes part of the calculus to solve one or both of those problems.

The first problem, a thematic and philosophical one: “How do you love and fight for something when you know you’re going to die?”

The second problem, a metatextual one: “Is there any artistic and social value left in the Shonen formula as it stands in the modern day?”

And this fight is, ultimately, where GeGe is showing their work. It’s where Yuji has to defeat Sukuna, if not in terms of out-boxing him, then in terms of prevailing over his beliefs about humanity and the world as a whole.

GeGe has stripped Yuji of everything that is supposed to determine the worth of a Shonen protagonist’s victory. He’s not fighting alone, he didn’t go off and train all by himself, he trained with a lot of powerful, smart people who helped him. And Yuji is arguably not even the most important participant in the fight. So why should we care if Yuji wins?

The answer is so simple it’s easy to lose track of it. Yuji is risking his life to rescue someone, his friend, from being exploited, and to save the people of Japan from being exploited. Even after everything that’s happened, Yuji plants his fucking feet and takes a stance that no, shithead, there is such a thing as the right thing. Maybe it isn’t obvious all the time, and it sure as hell isn’t always easy to know what it is, but he knows now with certainty what it isn’t: to exploit others or to destroy yourself. We can find our answers somewhere in-between.

Sometimes we can’t resolve our problems with a tidy solution that makes everyone happy and sometimes we have to carve a piece of ourselves out and give to something we won’t be sure to see the fruition of, but that’s just life. It doesn’t mean we have to throw away all hope for things to get better. Even if the world won’t become utopian, it can still become better, no matter how many nihilists hide their own inequities behind assertions that there is no point.

Nihilism is not a solution to the problems of life, it is the choice to run away and hide. To give into nihilism is to give up the fight even while other people are still fighting all around you.

So that’s the fucking point of the Sukunadome. Nobara already said it better than anyone else has before she made Mahito look like the bitch he was and always will be: “Sometimes you need to fight even when you know you can’t win.” Because you won’t always win and you won’t escape death, nor will you know what lies beyond death. However, you can still live according to your principles and fight for the things you see as meaningful even if other people don’t.

That is why so many characters have come and gone from the fight. All gave some, some gave all. Nobody is truly useless — even if Miwa self-deprecatingly jokes about being useless, she still was the one thing standing between Maki and Malevolent Shrine’s eviscerating hellscape. Even Amai’s sweets-conjuring joke technique saved Hana from a would-be fatal fall and helped to supply sugar to the brains of people using reverse cursed technique in Shoko’s triage. Larue couldn’t do much, but they caught Sukuna’s eye at the perfect time for Yuji to land a Black Flash, and that means something. It all means something.

Given how deeply GeGe clearly respects Hunter X Hunter, I want to end off by citing one of the quotes in Hunter X Hunter that has been the most impactful for me and I suspect has been about as impactful on GeGe: “It seems small things… infinitesimally small things… are needed to build the entire universe. The size of a thing has nothing to do with its power.” We always seem to direct our senses to the superlatives. The largest, the oldest, the loudest, the things that hit the hardest. But while it would be wrong to throw those out, we often lose sight of how many little, important things there are in the midst of those huge, important things.

Seeing someone’s smile when you remembered something they said that showed you were listening to them. The feeling of a warm breeze on a summer morning. The smell of honeysuckle on your walk home. Waking up to rain on a Sunday. The taste of watermelon. Getting married. Having your heart broken. Songs that make you smile, songs that make you cry — songs that do both, and songs that make you feel things you can’t describe. When you’re always looking to those immense, monolithic things, always comparing your seemingly small, seemingley meaningless life to them, you lose sight of just how meaningful all of it is.

Just because it doesn’t have cosmic, absolute meaning doesn’t make it meaningless. Every little thing that means something to you is worthy of being cherished. The people around you, the things that bring you happiness, even if that happiness is going to ebb and flow. It’s all worth fighting for and living for. It just takes bravery and conviction to keep fighting and keep living with authenticity and love. And if there’s an artistic value, a greater meaning to Shonen, now and always, it’s the unerring, unabashed belief that there’s a reason to aim high and not give up.

Because sometimes, life hurts. But if it’s just pain, Yuji Itadori will never stop. We’ll see what I have to amend, reconsider, or elaborate on when the fight is finished. I hope this gave some of you a new way to look at it.

[midnxghtsunwrites]

SMOKESTACKS | 16, NO MORE SURPRISES

previous post

warning: ⚠ domestic abuse ahead ⚠

FOR THE SIXTH TIME IN TWO hours, Nadine's phone blares its annoying ringtone. She could only assume that those calls are coming from the same people she's been avoiding for the past week. Nadine has managed to take the week off of work to avoid seeing Gemma and/or Jax.

Now, she's sat in a bar on a Friday night, sipping on a gin and tonic and bobbing her head to the music playing over the speakers.

She glances at her screen to see the familiar name pop up.

Jackson Teller.

She was in her feelings when she changed his name in her phone and she doesn't see herself changing it back in the near future. Honestly, she doesn't know what to do. It seems impossible to avoid these people considering everywhere she turns, someone associated with the club is in her face.

Of course, her friendship with Lyla was the only constant and based on the fact that the porn star brings up Jax in every one of their conversations, he knows it too. Does she want to just wait it out until they're tired of trying to reach out to her or does she try to make another getaway?

She just got here and she loves her job and her kids and she already can't imagine leaving them.

Guess she'll have to suck it up.

"I really can't tell if you're drunk or just vibing," The voice belongs to a black woman who'd been sitting beside Nadine for the better part of thirty minutes. She has an eyebrow raised and a glass of scotch raised to her lips, "Or both."

Nadine shakes her head in amusement, "Definitely both." Sticking a hand out, she introduces herself, "Nadine."

"Amelia." The woman shakes the teacher's hand, "Why haven't I seen you around before?"

"That is a great question," Nadine jokes as she sips her drink. She's barely tipsy, which is far from where she wants to be. The conversation continues to flow as the woman is drowned out by Nadine's phone blaring obnoxiously for the third time in ten minutes, the teacher ignoring every call.

Noting this, Amelia tilts her head in interest, "Boyfriend?"

The teacher scrunches her face at the thought, "Nope."

"Girlfriend?"

"I wish."

"Almost boyfriend?"

At Amelia's teasing tone, Nadine rolls her eyes in amusement, "Definitely not."

NADINE WAS DOWN THREE GLASSES of whiskey before she felt the effects of the alcohol on her senses. She giggles, fruitlessly as she tries to drink from her glass only to miss completely and basically pour it down her shirt.

Amelia bursts out into laughter, drunk to her ass. The women had been drowning themselves in tequila shots — for reasons they choose not to admit. Apparently, Amelia has lived in Charming her whole life — she's an OR nurse at St. Thomas's Hospital and extremely talented when it comes to her job.

Nadine didn't get much more than that.

"Oh, crap," Nadine snorts as the woody aroma from the alcohol wafts to her nostrils.

Amelia points in amusement, her eyes squinted as a loud laugh escapes her, "You smell like a bar!"

The teacher nods and leans back on her stool, almost falling on her back, "That's 'cause we're in a bar, silly!"

Staggering forward, Nadine peers through the mirrored wall behind the shelves of alcohol — the clear space allows her to look at the rest of the bar patrons behind her. She takes note of the large spot on her grey shirt and groans, exaggeratedly as she throws her head back.

Luckily, drunk Nadine still has some sort of logical reasoning, "I'll be right back — I gotta clean this up before it stains."

Amelia just tilts the rim of her glass of scotch towards the teacher and sends her a dopey smile, "Have fuuun." She sings, joyfully.

"I willll," Nadine mimics as she throws cash for the drinks on the bar counter.

Fortunately, the dark spot hadn't dried in the time it took Nadine to go through the line of women standing outside of the bathroom. A lack of stalls seemed to be the verdict for the long queue. Standing there in the bathroom, she hovers over the sink, wiping a damp paper towel over her tank top.

The stain is almost out — the woody smell being replaced by stale tap water. She should've just kept the stain there if that's the case.

Suddenly, it's like time stops. Chills run down her back and the hairs on the back of her necks rise. Goosebumps line her arms as she furrows her eyebrows. There's a sinking feeling in her gut — so deep that Nadine is knocked out of her drunken stupor and forced to grab on to the ceramic sink.

Almost as if she could predict it, there's a knock on the door. Nadine blinks profusely and calls to the person, "Someone's in here." That doesn't make the person on the other side back off — no, instead, the doorknob that was once locked is twisted and pushed open.

So much for locking the door. She ponders.

The figure that enters is tall — and so familiar. It's too dark for her to see a face but for a moment, Nadine assumes that Jax found her. She didn't put it past him considering he has so many connections that probably tipped him off and she doesn't put it past him to break down any barriers between them.

This leads her to her beginning sentence, "You don't have to check up on me, Jax. I just need time to myself."

As the figure steps closer, Nadine's breath hitches in her throat. Fuck. Tears fill her eyes as she looks upon the man that's caused her so much turmoil for two years. The man she fucking ran away from. Ezra Moore in all his mysterious obscurity stands just feet away from her.

She tries not to let her gaze shift to the pepper spray in her bag.

The man smirks, sadistically as he steps further into the room, almost steps away from his target, "This place should really get some better locks."

As his patronizing tone, Nadine jumps towards her bag on the sink, only to be shoved backward by her assailant. Her back lands against the filthy tiled wall and he holds her there, a grimey hand wrapped around her neck.

There were times when she loved to peer into those chocolate brown eyes — they used to give her a certain comfort. Now, they're the epitome of terrifying.

"What? You thought you could get away from me, you little bitch?" He growls, leaning so close into Nadine that the palm of his hand pushes into her larynx and the stench of cigarettes and nasty beer invades her senses. "No matter how far you go, what name you use, or if you change your phone — I will always fucking find you."

"Please —"

"Shut the fuck up!" He yells into her face, spit flying to land on her cheek (the way my COVID brain just threw up). "You know you can't run from me, Nadine." His voice lowers as he jerks her head to the side and leans towards her ear. His lips wrap around her lobe, bringing tears to her eyes. His grip tightens, taking her breath from her — "You've been a little slut since you left me, haven't you? Fucking Jax Teller? That little biker I've been seeing around here?"

She can't speak. She can't breathe.

Ezra doesn't care.

"Answer me!"

Whipping her head around swiftly, she shakes her head and gapes her mouth, wanting to speak but no words can make it past Ezra's tight grip. Seeing this, he loosens it for a split second so Nadine can muster a small, "No."

That wasn't the answer he was looking for, "Don't fucking lie to me! That's all you've been doing since I met you." He forces her to look at him, frowning for a moment at the sight of tears running down her cheeks, "You're a fucking liar, you know that? And such an actress. Even right now — all these crocodile tears that you've been saving for me. For two years. All that fake love. Did you even love me?"

Nadine watches in pure horror as Ezra's voice breaks and tears begin to fly down his face. This man is insane, she sobs. Thoughts flurry through her mind as his grip loosens significantly. She's so taken aback that even her mind seems to be lagging. She wants to go home where the locks work.

"I did." She whispers, cringing as her voice cracks, "I-I do. I do love you, Ezra." It pains her to speak these lies, but she has to go and the only way to do that is to feed into his crazed actions, "I love you, baby. So much." She lifts a shaky hand to cup his cheeks, willing her tears away at the thought of touching her oppressor. "I'm sorry I left you. I don't know what I was thinking."

Her back stiffens when he falls into her, dropping his head into the crook of her neck. He sobs, savoring the feeling as she runs a hand through his scalp. It was something she did years ago to help him out whenever he had a stressful day — she used to love doing it.

Now, she feels like she needs to take a shower in acid to scrub the feeling of him off.

Her neck is sore when he releases her — surely, she has bruises.

Now is her time to get away — with that thought, she swiftly thrusts her knee up in between his legs and pushes him off of her body. He falls to the floor with a pained groan, cupping his groin.

"You bitch!" He screams at her as she shuffles along quickly to make her getaway. She snatches her bag from the sink, grabs her pepper spray and unleashes hell on the man writhing on the floor. He screams bloody murder before Nadine exits the room, closing the door behind her.

Nadine tries to wipe away the messy mascara under her eyes before heading for the exit of the bar, ignoring as Amelia calls after her.

The teacher drove home in fear that her shaky hands would make her swerve into oncoming traffic. That and her blurry vision, eyes filled to the brim with unshed tears. She's spent too much of her life crying over that man — she'll be damned if he gets anymore from her.

Taking extra precautions, she checks behind her every few seconds to make sure she isn't being tailed — even taking the long way home.

When she arrives at her apartment complex, she double checks the locks on her car before making her way up the stairs, her key already in one hand and her pepper spray in the other. When she sees another figure crouched by her door, the woman jumps. She doesn't want any more surprises tonight.

As she steps closer, arm extended with her pepper spray, her eyes catch sight of the familiar dark hair and the lit end of a cigarette. Nadine holds her breath as she realizes that that cigarette belongs to the woman she's been ignoring for the past week.

With a broken voice, Nadine freezes and whispers, "Gemma?"

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[leahseclipse]

The Reichenbach Fall: Aftermath - Chapter One: Happy Death Anniversary, Detective.

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x GN!Reader (With some Fem mentions)

Warnings: S2 FINALE SHERLOCK SPOILERS, Major character death; death topic, mourning, suicide mentions, depression mentions... (lemme know if I missed stuff.)

Summary: Two years after the death of Sherlock, what could be next?

Word Count: 4.0K

A/N: Hey there! I've finally found the motivation to post my Sherlock fic here. If you prefer AO3, click here :)

++

Sherlock used to call at midnight, he never cared whether you were trying to sleep, or if you were actually sleeping- he’d just call.

Sometimes to complain that technology was futile given the multitude of defaults it contained (his phone, for example)- or to talk about an article in a newspaper, thinking we’d be interested in it.

It’s been two years since the last call. No one could bring themselves to delete his number since; and I understand the reason for it. We all had some hope inside us, it was small given all the time that went by, but it was there.

We all wondered if he wasn’t alive. Movies aren’t real, so the whole fake-death scenario couldn’t have been real but we all thought “why not?”, it could happen. That was over a year ago, but I still believed it, I wasn’t quite planning on giving up; and when my phone rang a bit after midnight, I still had a glimpse of hope, each time.

That glimpse was cut short when I read the caller ID. It was John. I did like him, he just wasn’t who I expected to see, but I picked up the phone, just to not be rude. Voicemail is awful. “John? What’s going on?”

"I...I don’t really know, actually. Guess I...needed to feel less alone. I don’t even know."

“Hold on.” I glanced at my bedside as I put the phone on speaker before sitting on the bed. "...so, you couldn’t sleep?"

"Yeah, I’ve been trying for an hour, certainly because of..." He stopped, hesitating with his words.

Who else other than Sherlock would it be, honestly. The man’s always been in our thoughts, and now that he’s gone, we have to be reminded that he’s stuck in our minds. The only way to hear him is through memories, and probably some of us are afraid to forget what he sounds like through time. He wasn’t the guy to make documentaries on him, film himself- hell, he rejected every interview he was offered. The only thing we have is pictures, which isn’t enough.

"It’s him, isn't it?" I presumed.

"Yeah, Sherlock." He confirmed. “It’s the anniversary of his death, in two weeks.”

See, that was the kind of thing I didn’t want to recall as it made me think of what I didn’t want to accept, but at the same time, if I stopped thinking about that, might as well forget Sherlock completely.

"It kept me awake too." I admitted.”I can’t believe it.”

No one really does, to be honest. We all wish that it could be fake, that’s what we would need, even if it’d hurt to see him while we mourned all this time.

"It still feels a bit weird without him, even after basically two years."

“It didn’t seem right without him, at first."

"It took us a bit to get used to it, and still...I think I didn’t get used to it fully to this day."

"Neither am I, John. I don't think I ever will. Time will make the pain less...painful, but it’ll never erase him, he'll be in our thoughts from the moment we wake up."

"I wish it was all a dream. I hate to wake up and not see him. He annoyed me sometimes but...he was my friend."

"He was annoying but a good friend, yeah.” I said, “It’s just...not right. Nothing is right. I feel like everything has gone cold. I swear that I haven't seen a single ray of sunshine."

"It's probably time fooling around, I don't know." He said.

"It could but, when he was there, there would be some sunny-ish days. I haven't seen one since. He left, and it's like he took the sun with him, John. The whole world is falling apart.”

"I felt that too, for a moment. But, I don't really trust whatever I think about these days. I don't pay much attention to whatever I do."

"You should be careful though, I don't need you to die because you didn't pay attention out there. And before you say anything, there's no joke in there. I mean it, Watson.”

"I wasn't going to say that, trust me."

"You better. I need you there."

"Same goes for me. You've been of great help since…"

"Yeah. Since." I paused. "It sucks."

"It does.” He agreed. “Well I...I’m gonna go back to sleep, I don’t want to bother you all night.”

“You didn’t bother me, don’t worry. It helped to talk. I could even stay a bit more, if you’re not planning on going back now.”

“Alright, then.”

++

It’s like the weather watched me plan the day, rain is on time. It couldn’t be more depressing on top of me dressed in black, but I just didn’t feel like coming in rainbow clothes would be appropriate, even if he wouldn’t care how I dressed anyway, even if he’s dead, yeah.

It feels weird to go, I always expected this was all a dream, or that it’d just...never happen. He’s the kind of person that outlives everyone, and Sherlock was this kind of person, he’s always been that person. He even used to say he’ll always be there, that he’d never leave, and now I guess we’ve both made mistakes, he’s not here anymore.

I never thought that would happen, I can’t tell how bad I prayed to whatever god to wake up, but that did nothing but make me a fool, nothing changed.

His apartment remained empty, as ours, he’d consider each house he could sleep at, his. I remember that he stayed at John’s for a week, before having to go back as John was “not entertaining” enough because he slept too much- As if we got to sleep all day.

He used to think everyone was like him, barely sleeping, barely tired, because I don’t think I’ve had the opportunity of seeing him elsewhere other than a room full of piles of papers.

He did sleep, but not at night, it was kind of like a cat, throughout the day, when possible. I always laughed about it along with John, and he never minded, he’d either pretend to not care, or join the conversation, and I already miss this kind of talks.

They’d either be incredibly short, or extremely long, you really had to clear your schedule for an hour or two when he’d talk. It’s not that it bothered me, it was more the others, those who didn’t know him. They’ve always found an amount of weirdness in him, which I had when I was like them, a stranger.

I never thought we’d get close, I didn’t even think anyone was close with him, he seemed quite the lonely guy, very private. Even after getting to know him, he remained quite private, as I thought, he wouldn’t share much, even with John and Mycroft; but, it didn’t matter that much, we still managed to have a great friendship, and I’ll always miss it.

Not any person will be like him, he was one of a kind. Not anyone could copy him without being seen as a fool. Sherlock Holmes was unique, he didn’t copy anyone to rise up, didn’t take anyone as a model, he did it all himself, he was a model himself.

He didn’t wish to be like anyone, it was the contrary, everyone wanted to be at his level, have the recognition he had, the fame, all the things that made him known, that made Sherlock be him. Even I won’t find a mentor like him, not any of them will be better, they’ll all seem ridiculous to me, even if they have more experience than him.

Nothing will be the same. This world won’t be the same without him being here, he’s gone now.

He took a big piece of whatever thing, when he left, and whatever thing he took was a big one, because it left us all empty. The kind of empty feeling that won’t quite go away, we’ve all been so used to having him around so much that it was a habit.

And now that he’s gone, nothing feels right, even living doesn’t feel right. It won’t ever feel right without him.

I almost feel guilty for being alive, I’m not as smart as him, I won’t contribute to anything. He was the smart one, we really lost an important person and I don’t think it wouldn’t have changed much if I had died instead, people would just be sad, I think.

It wouldn’t be that bad.

His death is bad to the point that the world he left behind can’t function as well as when he was alive. The whole puzzle is missing, hell, the whole world, if I go out of the metaphor.

...Sherlock would have been the corners of it, the foundations of it, what made it whole, what gave a start to get the rest of the puzzle.

He would have corrected me with hundreds of better metaphors if he could hear me, I really suck at this. He never did, though.

In fact, most of his talking contained metaphors, it was his signature, his day couldn’t feel right if he wouldn’t tell at least one.Now the whole ‘no day without a metaphor is a bad day’ is falling on us, and nothing or no one will make that feeling go away.

It’s strange, and funny that he managed to create all of those special feelings, memories, that we only felt with him. Sherlock’s had quite the special part in our lives. He changed our lives in such a spectacular way, and to be honest, life felt less depressing, even if our job is full of dead people and mysteries that make our sleep schedule non-existent, quite rare.

He made us forget all of that shit, whenever he could. That’s why I looked up to him, and thought about him so much. Whenever I had a problem, I’d call him first. Of course, I did call John, and Mycroft, but Sherlock was like my emergency contact, he’d always pick up, if possible.

Somehow, he always knew the answers to everything, and when he was clueless (which only happened twice, in five years)- he'd attempt to find something close to it, and even if his explanations didn’t solve anything, I didn’t care.

It probably made him sort of happy to explain it, share his big knowledge, so as long as he enjoyed himself, that was enough. I did hope he did enjoy himself, I never thought about asking and now that I think about it, I probably should have, it’s too late now.

If he can hear me, a sign would be great, probably. A good thing if he enjoyed talking, and a bad one if I annoyed him? It’d be nice to know even if he probably won’t answer, he must still be working; I know it.

He would be bored if he didn’t have his face in newspapers and whatever case. I always said Sherlock not to overwork, but he never listened. I hope he’s not doing it right now, that man was a total workaholic, right to his last breath, he never stopped.

I just hope he’s okay, wherever he is.

He deserves peace, enough things happened to him, he almost died a couple times, almost lost us if we hadn’t survived all of the wounds and things that happened, almost lost himself because of depression- all of these could have killed him.

He would have stayed alive, but he would have died inside, I just know it even if he didn’t show it much. But he did feel, he did have feelings.

I know he liked us a lot, even though he didn’t show it much; he did enjoy living even with all of the problems he had so, let’s hope he’s not in pain, stressing, suffering, whatever feeling that makes him feel bad.

You can take it easy now, we’re taking care of what you couldn’t finish for you, we’re taking care of the legacy you couldn’t pursue for you, we’ve got your back, Holmes. John, Mycroft, myself, and whatever person you know will tell you everything that happens so you don’t miss anything. You’ll be able to debate about the events, you won’t miss a single thing of what’s happening.

Even if I have my pride, and don’t want to admit I’m depressed about you being dead, I’ll tell you everything, I know you’d be here to tell me how to deal with the death of a person, the whole five stages of grief. You said them to me so much that I always have them in my head.

Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression and Acceptance.

I’d say that I’m at the last phase, but a lot of anger comes in it. I still wish it had been me, sometimes. It’s not fair it happened to Sherlock. I just hope he’s not too mad. If it had been someone else, he’d probably try to talk some sense into me, get me to tell more logical things.

If ghosts were real, I know he’d tell me to stop putting the blame on myself, even if I don’t even know why I blame myself, we don’t even know what caused him to jump from a damn building. And even if someone explains it, we won’t know if it’s real no matter how much they’ll prove it’s the truth.

The only person that can tell us that is gone.

So, unless we don’t find...a diary, or a note, proving it all, we won’t know.

The last thing we’ve heard from him was an apology, the ‘note’ he left behind was the call John received, which means the presumed note I mentioned doesn’t exist, only the call does.

After leaving his note, he fell from the roof and he died on impact, his pulse was long gone when he reached the floor, and it didn’t come back. I didn’t believe all of it happened, even when I heard John telling it, none of it seemed true...until I saw the death certificate.

The whole world stopped, and it still is frozen now. I wish the grave I’m standing in front of wasn’t real, I wish that my eyes were betraying me.

If only.

“Turns out you lied, Sherlock. You left.”

I hate you for what you did.

“You could have explained all of this a bit more. Even if I would have preferred not to, I would have prevented you from dying if you gave me a note...before.”

I wish I had known, I should have known. He didn’t have to die, he wasn’t supposed to die, certainly not like that.

Not now, that wasn’t his time. He was supposed to die of old age because of natural reasons, after all of us. Outlive us all.

Damn Sherlock Holmes wasn’t supposed to die at 35 years old. It's too young, too soon, Too much to bear.

“What am I supposed to do now, I mean- what are we all supposed to do? None of us can replace you, we’ll take twice the amount of time you barely took to resolve cases on our own, you left us in a really bad situation, you know that? It’s not going to be the same if you’re not here with us.”

And I miss you like a little kid.

“You could have made us take classes to become a close version of you, at least. I’m saying ‘close’ because no one will ever be like you. Not even that detective that had 30 years of experience, he wasn’t even close, really. I’d say he looked like a newbie, next to you.”

I even started to lose the habit of calling him when he’s not directly on the field and I hate this. I’ve only known him for a couple of years, and yet, he’s going to be ironed in my mind for a lifetime.

That man, I swear.

He didn’t think that sticking so close to us, getting to know us, sharing things about him would affect us so badly now that he’s gone. Real gone.

It hurts to say that, I wish I could just pretend he wasn’t gone, but that’s not really...healthy? It’s not really healthy in the way that if I pretend he’s still there- while he’s six feet under ground would drive me crazy, it’d completely destroy the whole ‘acceptance phase’ I’ve been working on. He’s dead, and there’s nothing we can do to bring him back.

That’s what my brain has to acknowledge, pretending he’s alive wouldn’t do any good.

Sometimes life gets to an end, and we have to accept that. I know that Sherlock, his brother and even John wouldn’t want to see me like this- ignoring reality, building a fake world to protect me from the real one.

Hurting sucks. Getting reminded that I won’t be seeing him anymore sucks, but everything sucks in life, and that’s what happens when you live. You can’t have a perfect happy life with all the shitty problems, that doesn’t exist.

But even if this sucks, I also get to remember all of the great things Sherlock has accomplished, the hundreds of memories we’ve made all together, whatever makes me happy- but there’s still a lot of hurt to go through before being able to think about them without crying because I miss them.

I wish that could be happening right now, I must have filled an entire bottle of water with all my tears. It’s even worse when that happens at 2am after you wake up from a dream about them.

Speaking of dreams, I don’t think I’ve ever had so many dreams with him compared to when he was alive. It’s as if he's haunting me, and even if I like him, I’d wish he wouldn’t do that so often, a little peace and quiet would be nice, even if I don’t want that to stop.

I’m afraid I’ll forget Sherlock if I stop thinking about him, block the memories to prevent me from the hurt that comes with it. I don’t want that to happen, he doesn’t deserve to have his legacy ignored because of my stupid feelings that hurt, he deserves to have his legacy remembered, discussed about, shared, not to have it trapped in newspapers, or in a corner of my head.

I like to imagine him being proud when I do that, even if I wouldn’t have known he was. He wasn’t the expressive kind, but he liked to show he was proud of you through a facial expression, a word, whatever could be ‘decrypted’. He wasn’t as cold as people saw him, he was extremely kind, even if he was broken in millions of pieces inside.

But yet, he overcame everything and came back even stronger. Every single time. He was amazing in so many ways, and that’s why I wish I could be like him.

So much.

I sighed, adjusting the grip I had on my umbrella, as I squatted down in front of his grave. “Did you know we went through your closet yesterday? There’s really not a lot, your clothes are so...similar. We can easily buy the same to be ‘like you’. But I don’t want to touch them, they’re kind of like precious pieces you can find in a museum.”

I hope he doesn’t think I’m crazy because of that.

“And...yeah, we went through your place because we can’t bring ourselves to sell it, I don’t want someone else to live in there and ruin it with their own belongings. But at the same time, living in it would be weird, I don’t know. I can’t find an explanation, just that it’s weird, living in the apartment of a dead person. Kinda creepy.” I explained, looking up from my umbrella as I realized the rain had gone down, letting a few rays of a ‘somehow’ sun. “Look, the sun listened to me. It’s coming up so I can give my emotional speech full of hope.” I sighed. “I don’t...I don’t even know what to say anymore. Kind of ironic as I always have something to say.”

I actually kind of know, but I don’t want to say it.

He’s gone. No miracle will bring him back, but I’ve kept hearing John saying it, I heard him last time we came; and even though I can’t bring myself to say that, I want to so badly. That’s all I’ve been wanting to happen since you died, I don’t want anything else and I don’t care about love anymore even if you always wanted me to be happy.

You’re what made me happy, you were the definition of love. Maybe what I’ve been feeling was that but I never brought myself to admit it.

I have loved you since the first day, but you always said that whoever fell in love with you should find better as you considered yourself a forever loner, unable to feel and give love, but I know you were capable of it, if you had tried, I believed you could have done it.

“Look at me, in front of your grave, exposing the feelings I’ll never have the answer to, I don’t even know if you liked me back. You really took all your secrets to your grave, huh? What a selfish prick, you could’ve shared that, at least.” I complained.

I don’t think I’ve ever known someone that hid so much stuff, he really was a whole mystery to himself, that man.

We can’t even solve what caused you to commit suicide, we’ll probably never solve it. You were the only one that knew why, and yet he can’t just pull a miracle and live again for a few minutes as a zombie to explain. That would be of great help, even if I’d prefer he’d live again.

That’d be an awesome miracle, even better than what happens at Christmas.

“Can you do that for me, though?”

Just that, I won’t ask for anything else.

“Just one more miracle, Sherlock, for us.” I said, putting my hand on the polished surface. “...don't be dead.”

It’s too easy, you can’t be dead, Nothing can kill you. I know John, and a shit ton of people saw you fall, but...let me believe all of that isn’t true.

Just a fake accident, Do that for us. Please. We need you more than you can ever imagine, you were so important to us, you were family.

A reason to fight for, to live for.

“Don’t be, please.” I pleaded, as I got up from the ground. “I uh...I’ll be back whenever I can, okay? Work’s been crazy since you’re gone, it’s incredible. I don’t know if it’s because we don’t have your help, or because it’s always been like that.”

Probably a mix of the two, I don’t really know, it’s been complicated to think properly these days. Sherlock would be the one to help with that, usually.

“I’ll have to ask someone else, I guess.”

I still haven’t found this ‘someone else’, by the way, It’s been two years, I know. But I still haven’t found someone that can help me the way he used to.

He still remains unique after all this time.

“I’ll be on my way, then. You’re awfully quiet today, guess you’re not in the mood, so I’ll go.”

I wish I still didn’t have to say goodbye, but this is the only thing I can say when I leave.

The weather had even gotten better, as if it only rained to have a full dramatic effect, there was only wind, which didn’t seem to announce a storm, for now. The sound of the leaves being crushed by my feet as I walked was to be heard, as no other sounds were around, it was very quiet today.

The silence did feel weird, I never liked it.

Not when it caused me to think of…

“Got time to spare for me?”

...him.

“Sherlock.”

++

|Chapter Two|

[i-choose-liam]

Stress Buster - King Liam x MC

A/N: I apologise for the length of this post for those who want to scroll past. I wrote this on the fly and I'm posting it from mobile, so I couldn't add the "Keep reading" line. Sorry! 💙

Hello! This is my first time posting a fic in quite a few months. So any feedback is appreciated. It's sort of a continuation (with a major leap in between) of my TRR Chapter Tie-Ins series. You don't have to read the previous parts to make sense of this story. For those who haven't read the previous parts, my MC in this series is Riley Spencer, a law school dropout and twin sister to Dani Spencer, the MC from Lovehacks. So this is actually a The Royal Romance and LoveHacks crossover.

This is for the anon who asked me to write a fanfic about Liam teasing a tired Riley. It's a bit different than what you asked for, but I hope you like it, anon! ☺️

***

It was the end of a long, tiresome week. Liam was holding himself back from grabbing Riley and jumping into bed together. He took deep, calming breaths as he sat on the ottoman and took his shoes off, watching his Queen fire away some rapid texts on her phone. He wondered how it was possible that she grew more and more beautiful with each passing day. There she stood by their bed, holding her phone up at eye level.

"Constantly looking down at the phone causes neck and spine problems, babe", she had told him once.

A small smile curved the corner of his lips, as he took in the sight of her. Those silken locks in ombre, which he had curled around his fingers nearly every night since their wedding. The graceful bearing with which she carried herself, even as she stood still. And that face - the one which had illuminated his life, like the moon did to a clouded night.

"Are you texting Madeleine?", Liam teased.

"Yes"

Normally, that name was enough to make Riley roll her eyes or crack some joke about the Countess. But she kept typing away, filling in Liam about some event she had to attend on Monday and how important it was for the apple export. It didn't sit well with Liam to see his lovely wife in her Queen mode when they had done with their duties for the day and were now alone in their bedroom. He shed his coat and unbuttoned his collar as he walked to her. The fading smell of her shower gel and deodorant, with just a smidgen of that womanly musk, was what greeted him first. Liam placed his chin on Riley's shoulder from behind, letting his arms wrap themselves around her. He closed his eyes as he kissed her cheek, gently rocking her sideways in his snug embrace.

"Honey, not right now. This is important stuff", she said, without looking back at him.

Liam didn't get upset or angry. He smiled in defeat as he recognised what was happening. He let go of her, but couldn't help putting his hands on her shoulders. He said,

"Do you realise what's going on?"

Riley said, still looking at her phone screen,

"What?"

"You're pulling a Riley"

That earned him a tired glare from over her shoulder. Liam grinned.

"I'm sorry but that's what this is. You have been doing so much these last few weeks. And unlike a normal person when overworked, you just jump deeper into the deep end"

She said, pouting a bit at her phone as she typed,

"This is not a "Riley". I'm just... just busy"

"Darling, you remember what happened the last time you got overburdened and wouldn't let anyone help you?", Liam reminded her, "You ended up eating all the cake at Maxwell's birthday, you called Drake a denim whore, then you wept while hugging both our corgis, and kept saying "It's a cool name, Mr. T! Mr. T's a cool name!*"

Riley's shoulders stiffened a bit under his hands. Liam smiled and massaged them.

"Do we want an encore of that?", he asked, trying to keep the smile out of his voice.

His wife was stubborn as she was beautiful. She said,

"There's not going to be an encore cause I'm not overworked. I've got everything under control. Totally"

She shrugged his hand off her shoulder and took her phone to the bathroom. Liam decided to let her have her privacy. But he was worried about her now. She had confided in him about her law school days, and how she had been put on "leave" by the school for reasons concerning her own mental and physical well being. That was when she had started working as a waitress and met him.

'Ah, fateful night', Liam thought.

How fearless and carefree she had seemed to him then. In a way, she was still all that. But her type A personality reared its head every now and then when the going got tough. If she kept throwing herself into work 24x7 like she had been doing lately, Liam was sure there would be repercussions for her health.

'If only there was someone who could...'

Liam smiled to himself. There was. There was someone who could pull Riley out of her workaholic spiral. The only person who could do it in fact.

Liam checked the time, and making sure it was still daytime in San Francisco, he called.

"Liamm, hii!", answered the voice from the other end.

Liam grinned at that enthusiastic tone and the thumping sound of music coming from somewhere behind his sister-in-law. He said,

"Hello, Dani"

***

Riley had back to back appearances scheduled before apple picking season. As a suitor for Liam's hand in marriage, she had hated the Cordonian obsession with apples. But as the Queen of her people, she had come to realise that the apples were a symbol of the Cordonian spirit. The Cordonian Ruby was one of their most valued exports and she knew its importance to the Cordonian morale and economy quite well.

"Riley, this is such a lovely dress. I didn't know you had something from Ana de Luca's summer '19 collection", Hana said.

Riley had to turn her head to look at Hana, who was sitting next to her in the car. At first glance, she saw a large apple in place of Hana's face.

'What?'

Overworked for the last few days, she had to shake her head to clearly see the winsome face of Lady Hana Lee.

"I haven't even seen Ana's summer collection this year, let alone buy something. What are you talking about?", Riley said.

Hana showed her the webpage on her phone, the picture just taken that morning... of Liam and Riley leaving the Parliament.

Her mind was so bungled with apples and all the bullet points on her schedule for the day that she had to take a minute to think. Hana pointed out,

"This was taken a few hours ago. But you've been with me since morning"

Riley asked, clearly confused,

"What?"

Hana looked concerned. She said,

"Riley, you were photographed with Liam outside the Parliament this morning. But that can't be you cause you have been with me all day. So who is this? And what happened to you? Are you okay?"

In a quick snatch, Riley had Hana's phone in her own hands. She speed-read through the article and slowly scrolled past the three pictures. Only her side profile was caught in the pictures, most of it hidden by a gigantic hat. Riley scowled, angered but not scared. She handed the phone back to Hana.

"That's my twin sister", Riley said, "And she and Liam have a lot to answer for when I get to them"

***

Come evening, Riley nearly stormed into the palace, followed by her assistant who frantically tried to keep in pace with her. She had confirmed with Liam's assistant that he was at home after the day's work. Dani she hadn't bothered calling because her head already felt like it would burst. If she had to argue with her reckless, impulsive sister for one...

"That's one big butt to carry on your neck, butthead"

Riley turned around at the call that had come from behind her. Dani stood laughing in the distance, in casual attire that made her stand out even more amidst the palace interior. She met Riley halfway, hugging her tight.

"Oh Riiless, it's been sooo long!"

Dani hugged her tight, shaking her a bit. Riley would have offered an even tighter hug which her family, the Spencers, were known for. But she remembered what had put her in a bad mood for the entirety of her day.

"The photos this morning", she said, without any emotion.

Dani drew back, still grinning,

"Your press secretary didn't tell you? I was on my way to surprise you here at the palace. She... what's her name... like that cookie Mom likes?"

"Madeleine?"

"Yeah, that one. So she saw me and she was like, "Ah the twin sister". I tried to be polite and all but she didn't seem to have time for that. She asked me if I'd be okay to stand in as you for a few pictures for the paparazzi. I thought what the hell, and did it"

Riley folded her arms and asked, raising her eyebrows,

"Oh really? You just conveniently happened to run into Countess Madeleine and she asked you, even though I was just a phone call away, to take pictures with Liam? And for whom, the paparazzi? Dani, I know this is some stupid prank of yours but you've really lost your touch. That is so absurd I can't even..."

"I'm not kidding, seriously", Dani explained, with an earnest expression, "I told her that someone might notice the slight differences in our features. You know, twins being mirror images and all. She said that your face was plain enough to not warrant such close scrutiny. Yikes"

Riley bit her lip. She said,

"Fine. That does sound like something Madeleine would say but it doesn't make any sense why she would want me and Liam to be photographed together by some paparazzo"

Dani explained,

"Right? I asked her the same thing. She said it was because rumours have been going about your marriage losing its spark cause you two are barely seen together in public anymore"

Ouch.

It took Riley a moment to counter that. She tried,

"But... it's not... it's just because we've both been busy with our individual duties. There's nothing wrong with our marriage. We love each other"

"I'm sure you do, Riles. Don't listen to what the haters say. They have nothing better to do", Dani assured her.

Riley couldn't stop thinking about it though. Had it really been so long since she and Liam had been seen together in public? She couldn't recall the last time they had had a private moment together let alone one in front of other people. She had thrown herself into the role of the best Queen she could be and yet...

"You okay?", Dani said, "If I had known it would bother you so much, I wouldn't have done it. That Madeleine said she would let you know and you'd be okay with it"

What hurt her - more than the speculation about her marriage - was the fact that Liam had gone along with this scheme. He had let himself be photographed with Dani as a substitute to his lawfully wedded wife.

Riley had to ask,

"What did Liam say? He must have felt pretty uncomfortable pretending you were me"

"I don't think he noticed it was me and not you. We didn't say anything to each other. We just walked side by side, not even holding hands. And that was it", Dani shrugged.

'No way. Not in a m...'

Riley shook her head, giving a little laugh of disbelief.

"Now that's taking it too far. Liam would have immediately known it was not me. Or Madeleine must have told him it was you. Yeah. That's why he..."

Really? She thought to herself. Did Liam really not care or notice that the woman next to him wasn't his wife?

It hurt. But Riley endured. She put on a smiling face for her sister and saw her to the guest chambers.

***

Riley dropped the impassive act when she walked into her own bedroom that she shared with Liam. He was sitting on the settee, reading a book. Like a child in want of attention, Riley walked over and stood right in front of him. Liam looked up at her from his book then, asking,

"When did you get in, my love?"

Oh the nerve.

She folded her arms across her chest, trying her best not to let her cheeks swell in anger like they always did. And which was enough to make Liam not take her seriously as he kept trying to "puncture" her cheeks instead.

"Did you seriously pose with Dani this morning and not know it wasn't me?", she asked.

Liam closed the book, his perfect eyebrows furrowing just a bit. He asked sweetly,

"Dani? Your sister?"

"You posed for paparazzi bait shots with her this morning. Did you really not know it wasn't me?"

Liam stood up and peered down into her face. He said sincerely,

"Riley, I really didn't think for a moment that it wasn't you. And Dani... when did she arrive? And why was she the one posing with me?"

Riley recapped for him what Dani had told her. He sighed, scratching the side of his brow.

"That's too much, even for Madeleine. I'll talk to her"

"I'm not jealous or something that you posed for a picture with my sister. It's not that", Riley said in small voice.

"What is it then?"

She could feel her stupid cheeks inflate as she spoke.

"It's just that... you couldn't even tell that it wasn't me. I know Dani and I are identical twins but I thought...", she mumbled, "I thought you would always be able to tell"

"Oh"

That's it? Oh? That was what he had to say in his defence?

Liam said, a bit sheepish,

"Well, to be honest with you, we didn't talk during the photos. She was wearing a very... interesting hat that hid nearly half her face from me. I supposed that you were busy and didn't want to talk, that's all. I didn't want to annoy you"

This wasn't something she had expected to hear from her Liam. Riley gripped his arms with her hands, saying,

"You don't think I'd ever be so mean and want to avoid you? Not you, Liam. You're the only reason I'm even here. You know that, right?"

He took her in his arms. But cautiously, she noted.

"I know. I'm sorry", he said, "It's... you have been so busy lately. I know how hard you try to give your best to everything you are called upon to do as the Queen of Cordonia. I just didn't want to annoy you when you have been working yourself to the bone lately"

That sure did it. Riley could feel the tears murking her vision. She had been so occupied with being a good queen lately that she had forgotten who she was doing it all for. The man who was holding her in his arms like she were made of fire and would burn him any instant.

She didn't want to know the answer to it but she asked anyway.

"Liam?"

"Yes, dear?"

"You're not scared of me, are you?"

He stroked her hair away from her forehead, smiling.

"Of course not, my love. I'm in awe of your strength and your courage every day. But you have never given me any reason to fear you"

Throwing herself into his embrace, Riley muffled her face against Liam's shirt. He seemed to panic.

"Hey. You okay? What's wrong?"

Riley mumbled,

"I pulled a Riley"

She could feel the laugh reverberating through Liam's chest. He kissed the top of her head, saying,

"There, there"

"I'm so sorry", she said, sniffing.

"Don't be. I appreciate how much effort you put into being a good ruler. You have no idea how grateful I am for that", Liam held her face so she was looking up at him, "But nothing's worth the anguish and damage to your health. You are the most important person in the world to me. And if anything were to happen to..."

Riley sniffed petulantly, interrupting him,

"Why am I like this?"

Liam kept reassuring her, kissing her tears away.

"There's nothing wrong with you, my love. I just wanted to remind you to take it easy"

She wiped another tear falling down her cheek. The exhaustion of the past few weeks was catching up with her. More than that, she was chiding herself for reverting back to her old workaholic ways. She didn't need all the stress when they were trying for a baby.

Liam looked at her like a sad, guilty puppy, which just added to her confusion. He suddenly pulled her closer.

"Oh my darling, I'm sorry. Don't cry. I'm so sorry", he said.

"Why?", she wondered.

"If I had known it would make you feel so bad, I never would have agreed to Dani's plan"

Hold up.

Riley looked up sharply through tearful eyes that were now blazing with a slow fury. She repeated,

"Dani's plan?"

Liam confessed,

"Yes. I asked her if she knew how I could stop you from overworking yourself to a burnout, and she said that she would fly to Cordonia and help. She didn't tell me much. She just said that I shouldn't speak a word to you or her today if we met in public, and that she would handle the rest. I knew it was not you with me this morning outside the Parliament, but since she had forbidden me from speaking to either of you, I didn't say anything"

Liam was startled when a woman's voice in an American accent called him "Tattle tits!". Both he and Riley turned to see Dani standing in the door to their bedroom, with her hands on her hips.

"For the record", Dani said to her sister, carefully taking a step backwards, "Lady Hana and Madeleine were in on this too. So you can't just punish me for the whole thing"

Riley gave her husband a sweet smile that spelled murder. She said,

"I'm going to deal with you tonight, right after I kill my sister"

She could tell from Liam's eyes that he was up for whatever sexual punishment she had hinted at. He said softly, so only she could hear,

"Sticks and stones may break my bones, but whips and chains excite me"

She shook her head at him in horror, saying,

"Oh my god. You only spent like half a day with her... Jesus Christ. Dani!"

Liam couldn't help but grin as he stood there watching. Dani dashed out of their rooms with a laugh, followed by the Queen of Cordonia and her shoe.

"Oww!", he heard Dani yelp from somewhere outside, "That hurt, you jerk!"

The loud bickering he - and the guards - could hear outside reminded him of similar occasions from his own childhood.

Not wanting to get in Riley's way when she was in an avenging mood, Liam took his phone and dialled a number.

"Leo?", he smiled on hearing the voice, "Hello to your filthy self, brother"

He sat down to catch up with his own sibling while Riley punished her imp of a twin outside.

---

*That line's from a Key & Peele sketch. God I miss that show.

[kairi-lansley]

I want to tell you all a true story. None of this is fabricated or exaggerated. I'm not going to give every single detail because this will already be a long post. I want to tell you a true story about the love of my life:

When you're a hitch-hiker, life is completely different from how normal people live it. You learn to live and survive completely off of the kindness of strangers and have to roll with whatever the universe decides to throw at you that day. Everything can change, you're life could be in danger if you make a bad decision.

By the time I'd reached Taos, NM my money was completely spent. I was out of real food and the only thing I had to eat for three days were some homemade pot cookies that I had been rationing because I needed SOMETHING to eat. I had been sitting out on the sidewalk next to a Walmart flying a sign so I could get enough change to buy myself something substantial to eat.

While I was sitting there with a cardboard sign that said "Spare some change to fuel my rocket ship" (it was my favorite sign and people typically threw me whatever they could because they found it amusing) a guy about my age walked over to me. He introduced himself as "Tex." His hair was blond and shaved down into a military style cut, his eyes were the same green-blue as mine, and he was about 5'11. He asked if I was a traveler. I told him I was and he explained to me that he was as well and that he was on his way to The National Rainbow Gathering. That was my destination as well. He asked how long I'd been in Taos to which I replied I'd only just arrived that day.

By this time I'd made enough change to walk over to McDonald's and grab myself a couple cheeseburgers so he offered to walk with me. We talked about our travels, he was here from Austin, TX, this was his first time hitch-hiking too, his dad had passed away from cancer and when that happened he decided to hit the road and find himself. We ate lunch together. I told him my story. How I had been horribly depressed and living alone in my own apartment when a couple of my friends had showed up from Iowa to ask if I wanted to travel. Little did they know I was about to overdose and had everything set up to do so. Part way through our journey we decided to split up and race to the Gathering.

"So you're alone then?" he asked, wolfing down his large fries.

"Yeah," I replied. "Aren't we all though?"

There was something in that moment when he looked at me. A kind of quiet stillness. He saw through the facade of a joke I'd made. He saw I wasn't just talking about traveling and he saw that I was terribly, agonizingly alone I was. Either that or I'm just projecting because it was exactly what I saw in him too. We made an agreement that moment, not with words, there were none, just silence. We would travel the rest of the way to the gathering together.

After our lunch he asked if I'd like to walk around town with him. Taos is a beautiful little town. To the east there were mountains and to the west nothing but desert and mesa. We'd spent the whole day just walking around, looking at all the little touristy shops. Joking, laughing, at one point we flew a sign together to get some dinner and ate it picnic style in the middle of Taos Plaza where there was a free jazz show being played. While we were sitting there a man came over to us. He introduced himself to us and asked if we had been flying a sign outside of Walmart. I told him we had and then he asked where we were staying.

"We haven't actually figured that out yet. Probably in a park." Tex told the man.

The guys smiled, "Not tonight you're not. I'm staying over at the Sun God Inn for the next two weeks while I'm here on business and I have a spare bed. If you two need a place to rest your head later you can come down."

Tex and I thanked this stranger profusely and he told us what room he was in. He sat with us a bit longer before deciding he'd had enough of the free concert and wanted to go back to his room.

"You two enjoy your evening and just come knocking when you need."

After the man left, Tex and I stayed listening to the music. The sun had started to set and I remember thinking that New Mexico sunsets were far more beautiful than any other place I'd been. Tex stood up and shyly smiled then asked, "So I know you're not really a girl.... and that's okay with me.... and I'm Bisexual.... and I ain't that good at this sort of thing.... but would you maybe like to dance with me?"

My heart stopped. I was a little wounded about the "not really a girl" but it didn't matter because he meant well. I recall looking up at him and saying "I only know how to dance like a stripper." He laughed. With a gloved hand he took mine, pulled me to me feet, then insisted that I dance with him. I protested a bit giving him a million reasons why I can't dance before he said "Who cares? None of these people are going to see us again." He was right.

We spent maybe half an hour slow dancing in the plaza, under the burnt orange sky of the setting sun. I remember thinking this was the most incredible thing that's ever happened. He was so cute, definitely dirty but then again so was I since it'd been at least a week since my last shower. It didn't matter. I was happy, and his eyes were the most beautiful eye's I'd ever seen. The whole day had been amazing.

After the music stopped he asked if I was tired yet. I told him I wasn't so he asked if I wanted to go sit in the park. I remembered that I'd had a few more o those pot cookies left over so I suggested we could go down to Kit Carson Memorial Park and eat them. That's what we ended up doing. It was there on a picnic table under the stars where we were talking and stoned out of our minds when he grabbed my hand then very slowly leaned in and gave me our first kiss. To this day, no other kiss could ever compare.

After making out in the park for a bit we decided to go and sleep at the Inn the man had told us he was at. When we got there we knocked on the door. He was pretty drunk and welcomed us warmly. We stayed up for a while talking to him, telling the man about our travels, where we were going, talking about our lives, until he eventually decided to go to sleep. He gave us the remote and told us we could shower. So I showered first (it'd been so long I forgot how good they felt) and then Tex took one after me. I was laying under the covers flipping through channels while our host was sleeping in the other bed.

When Tex got out of the shower wearing just his boxer-briefs I stared at him in silent adoration. Shit, I was really developing some incredibly strong feelings for this guy. There wasn't a single thing about him I could find off putting or unattractive. That night he fell asleep holding me with his face in my hair.

When we woke up the next morning, our host had gone out and left us some coffee and donuts before he went wherever he had to go. There was also a note that said "Feel free to stay however long you need. There are some mushrooms in the nightstand. Be back later. Enjoy! ;)"

A lot of that day in the room was a blur but there were a few notable moments that I still recall. For instance while we were tripping I was laying on the bed holding hands with him and it felt like our life forces were melding, merging, our souls were one, we were one, and he told me this was how it was always supposed to be. Us against the world. I remember giggling when the Native American Shaman in the ceiling agreed with us. I remember giggling when we shut off the lights then removed the lamp shades from the lamps then placed them on our heads, playing some weird version of peek-a-boo. Finally, as we were coming down we held eachother and he said "Did you know I've loved you my entire life?" and I replied "Yes, because I've loved you my entire life."

Our host returned later that night, he was drunk again and we'd spent the day cuddling and talking in bed. Our host said something before he passed out that unnerved me a little but I brushed it off as just flattery, he said "You're a lucky man Tex. You're girlfriend is one hell of a catch." He then went on to tell us we were welcome to stay however long he needed.

The next day we woke up and decided to wander town. There's so many details I'm leaving out, but that's okay, I can't forget any of it. We were in love with eachother's souls that's all that matters right? At one point that day after we had spanged up enough money to eat lunch we were walking through town when we came across a bicycle at the park sitting unchained.

"You wanna borrow that?" Tex asked.

"Borrow? What do you mean? You mean steal it?" I asked nervously.

"No not steal! We're just going to borrow it then we'll bring it back."

Before I could say no he hopped on the bike and had me sit on the handle bars. It was terrifying yet exhilarating at the same time. We rode around town on the bike for a couple hours before my anxiety took over and I told him we needed to return the bike. So we did, and I was high on being a bad criminal that returns their stolen goods. No harm no foul. Again we slept at the motel, but that night our host busted out a guitar and played us classic rock songs while we sang along.

The next day Tex woke me up and said, "Hey I'm going to go down to Walmart and fly a sign. I'll be back in a few hours if that's okay." Our host had given us a key card to the room. I said that was alright and that I was just going to just hang out in the room because it was so hot outside. He kissed me, told me he loved me, and left.

About an hour later our host returned unexpectedly. He was drunk. More drunk than I'd seen him previously. I don't wanna go to into detail about what happened next but he said again "That boyfriend of yours is one lucky man" and then started to force himself on me. I was terrified, this man was bigger than me, stronger than me, and I was in such a state of shock that all I could do to fight back was to scream at him. Tex came back while this was all happening. I've never seen anyone get the shit beat out of them like that in my life, but Tex ripped the man off of me and kicked his ass. I was still shaken and he instructed me to grab my backpack. Our host was sitting bloodied and beaten against a wall and I watched as Tex grabbed his wallet, pulled out a hundred dollar bill, then threw the wallet at the man.

We left the room. I was still shaking and Tex did everything he could to calm me down, making sure I was alright, asking me if I needed anything, and kept repeating "I love you, I'm sorry, I love you." We made our way down the main strip and used the hundred dollar bill to get us a room in a different hotel for the night. We agreed that our time in Taos was over and that tomorrow we would head out of town for The Rainbow Gathering. We spent the night together, him consoling me after I had bandaged up his knuckles. We made love that night. He asked me if I'd marry him. I said yes. He said we'd do it tomorrow.

The next morning we caught a ride out of Taos and had our ride drop us off at the Rio Grande Gorge Bridge on U.S. Highway 68. We stood over the gorge hand in hand. There were other tourists on the bridge but we payed no notice to them. He turned to me after we stood in silence together and we had a mock ceremony. We made up vows on the spot, and we each other's hands with a knife then allowed our blood to mix and fall to the gorge below stating that blood is bond. We were happy.

After our little private ceremony we caught a ride west with a couple of guys who had been going by the bridge. They drove us all the way out to this crossroads outside of Tres Piedras. It had started to rain so we took shelter in a rusted car that was filled with trash sitting next to an abandoned gas station. It wasn't the ideal honeymoon spot but we were happy regardless. We spent the day in the car, we ate some dry ramen blocks, and finished the rest of my pot cookies. We were entirely happy.

The next day we woke up in the car and there was a Winnebago parked across the street with a woman sitting at a table outside of it. I decided to see what was going on so I got out of the car with no shoes on and started to walk over. I mis-stepped and stubbed my big toe, ripping all but a couple layers of flesh off of it. It was absolutely excruciating. I hobbled my way over to the woman who looked to be in her mid-forties. She was incredibly rude and very stuck up. I asked if she had any bands aids and she said no, so I asked if she had any paper towel, and she told me I'd have to pay fifty cents per piece. I was angry but since I didn't have an option I did so. I hobbled back over to the car and Tex woke up when I got in. I asked him if he had any tape or rubberband and he didn't so he rummaged through the random trash in the backseat and thankfully found a green rubberband wrapped around an old newspaper. He took the paper towel and folded it around my toe then wrapped it in place with the rubberband. It wasn't much but that's all we could do.

We spent the rest of the day sitting in the car. We figured out pretty quick that we were in a pretty bad position. The entire time we'd been there not a single car had passed. I remember saying, "If we die out here I'm glad we'll be doing it together." He smiled and kissed me on the lips, "I'm sure we won't die but I agree." The whole day passed by and we spent it talking, making out, talking some more. Just when we were about to give up hope of getting picked up and were preparing to figure out where the nearest town was, a pick up truck pulled into the abandoned gas station. Tex jumped out of the car and went running over to the passenger window. He talked to whoever it was then half skipped half run with the goofiest smile on his face. "Grab your stuff, babe, they're going to the gathering too!" I was so excited that I left my camera in the car and didn't realize it until we were already on the way.

The two men who gave us a ride were going to stay the night with an old friend of theirs and told us we were welcome to stay too. Tex and I were so happy to sleep in a real bed after having been in that car for so long. As soon as we got in bed together and cuddled up we fell right to sleep. I remember the next morning waking up to him laying next to me with a smile. He'd said he'd been awake for a bit and was just watching me sleep. It was the sweetest thing I'd heard. I nuzzled him and told him I loved him. We layed in bed snuggled up, enjoying the silent bond we both shared. After a while a knock came at the door and the younger of the two men said it was time to leave. So we got up, grabbed our bags and made our way out to the truck. Our hands were practically glued together the whole way except when we were passing joints with the other guys.

Once we got to our destination we were both incredibly stoned out of our minds. What happened next, is difficult to describe unless you've been to one of these gatherings. There are THOUSANDS of people and it's easy to get lost. We hadn't set up camp yet and I really had to pee so I went to find the communal piss ditch. We made our way to the trading circle which wasn't so much a circle as it was a road. He had stopped to look at something that someone was trying to trade. I asked him if he minded if I tried to find the ditch.

He smiled his beautiful smile and said, "Not at all, babe, I'll come find you when I'm done here."

"Okay." I said dancing from one foot to the next. Before I could turn around he pulled me close to him and gave me a kiss. I can still feel it as if it just happened.

"I love you more than you could know. And when I'm done we'll go set up camp and have a real honeymoon."

I told him I loved him too, that I'd see him in a few minutes. I eventually found the ditch and did my business. I stood at the end of the path that led to it waiting for him. He never showed. So after a while I went looking for him. I never saw him again.

Several years later I started asking around about him. Last night I found out Tex had passed away a couple years ago. He had been train hopping with another traveler. He tried to get off of a train and misjudged the speed as well as the jump. This traveler told me he was married, that he had fallen in-love and they got married a few days after meeting in Taos. That she was his soulmate. They got separated at the rainbow gathering and no matter how much or how hard he looked he could never find her again. He held out hope until the very end that we would be brought back together.

My heart aches. My soul weeps. RIP Tex. RIP My Soulmate.