never lost faith in her

“I’ve been sitting here for four hours thinking about what I should do. I don’t want to go home. I fucked up again. I’ve been a drug addict my whole life. But I was clean for three months. I got a job at a call center. I was doing well. Then as soon as I got my paycheck, I went out drinking with some coworkers. Just a normal thing. But then I tried a little coke, went on a binge, and lost my job. Same story as always. And now I don’t want to go home. I live with my mother. She’s never lost faith in me. My brother was killed in the army so I’m her only son. She doesn’t deserve this. She was so happy that I had a job. She’d convinced herself that things were finally going to be OK. And I’ve got to go home and tell her what happened. And I don’t want to do it. She’s not even going to be mad. She’ll just be so hurt. Then she’ll ask me if I’ve eaten.”

(Bogotá, Colombia)

Rebuilt: Arrow 5x22 Review (Missing)

“Missing” was amazing! Emotional and action packed with zinging dialogue. 

Originally posted by pewslight

What struck me most was how full circle it was. “Missing” sets up the heroes versus villains battle that will come to fruition in the finale, but it also kicks off the basic question Oliver must ask: What makes a hero? What makes a villain? Those concepts are not always rigid. In fact, the very essence of hero and villain is fluid.

Oh… and did I mention there’s an Olicity reunion scene?

Let’s dig in…

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buffy rewatch ❉ this year’s girl

How Fitzsimmons can heal each other

So if they can get over this hump, it seems like there might be a happy ending in their future. But there’s still a lot in the mix, a lot of hurt feelings and a lot of pain. Whether or not they’re the ones who can help each other is a question we’ll have to answer next year…” Jed Whedon X

So before the finale aired, Jed said that both of Fitzsimmons are in a lot of pain, and we would find out next year if they will be the ones who are able to help each other recover. But then in this post-finale interview with EW, Jed says this about Fitz and Jemma:

If he’s ever going to get over it, she’s the only one who can help him. X

So in other words - yes. Jed has pretty much confirmed here that Fitz and Jemma are the only people who can help each other. And I’ve been thinking about this a lot and I’ve realised that he’s absolutely right. And it is giving me a lot of hope. Let me explain. Under the cut for length:

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Open skies

Fandom: The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Characters: Zelda, Link
Pairing: soft Zelink but can be read as gen friendship with a crush
Rating: G
Spoilers for the game’s ending!
Summary: The first day after leaving the Castle is exhausting for Zelda, but Link is there to make her feel more comfortable as she rests and gets used to normal life again. As the night advances, he also feels more relaxed around her.
AO3 link: here

She had done two astonishing things in a matter of hours: sealing the Calamity and making the Hero laugh. Perhaps she had grown to be less of a failure, after all.

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no but, Susan Pevensie headcanon time;

did Aslan ever actually say that Susan was lost? Because I’m pretty sure he didn’t

and the bright country, the true Narnia that will never fade or die, is joined on to all the other true countries, and people can just walk as they like between them.

and time works oddly there. Or rather, it doesn’t. Time has been replaced with eternity.

so post-Last Battle, the Friends of Narnia head on round to the true England, to meet their parents, like they were talking about in the book. And they get there and meet them and there’s someone else there.

This woman. Stately and magnificent in elegant Earth clothes; they’re not the purple and cloth-of-gold that the Friends of Narnia are arrayed in, but they’re just as clearly the clothes of a queen. And her face is beautiful and wise beyond reckoning, and her eyes are so bright and humorous and kind.

and she smiles, and she says “Lu, Ed, Peter! Everyone! I’ve missed you so much. It’s so good to see you again.”

and her siblings are like, “Susan?!” Because they’d given her up for lost, she forgot Narnia, she went and busied herself with mundane old Earth, forgot magic, of course she was lost. And they blurt this all out all awkward and confused.

and Susan just laughs at them, not unkindly, and says “Narnia didn’t need me anymore, sillies, but Earth did. Didn’t you ever wonder what I was doing in America?”

and she tells them what-and it turns out that she spent her mortal years fighting for the good and the true, protecting the weak, upholding the cause of the innocent. And her sibs never noticed, because she was doing it with words and papers and all the trappings of boring old Earth politics, all the things that seemed so shabby and quotidian next to Narnia’s iridescent colours. Because she was wearing nylons and makeup instead of a gold crown.

and she never lost her faith. Not even in the darkest times. Not even when she saw her sibs’ bodies all mangled from the railway accident. She just got to know Aslan better by his other name.

in “The Great Divorce,” Jack himself said that one of the great joys of Heaven was finding out how wrong you had been about things.

(and the next time Lucy talked with Aslan, her words could be translated into contemporary language as “YOU LITTLE SHIT why did you let me believe the worst of my sister for all that time thank you so much I’m sorry” and he laughed, and said that he had never said anything to her about Susan’s fate one way or the other-if she jumped to a conclusion it was entirely her own doing. And really-

-wasn’t it utterly foolish of her to think that he loved Earth and Susan any less than he loved Lucy and Narnia?




“What can i say about Julia? She was the bravest woman I have ever met. She was endlessly curious. She was quite possibly the most stubborn individual to walk this Earth in it’s four billion or so years. She was loyal. And she always had your back. She was always rooting for the underdog… and she couldn’t help it. She never lost her faith in the basic goodness of humanity.”

“You saved me. All that sociopath swimming through your system, and you still found your way through. This brain… it’s not who you are.” ~ Ravi, 1x03

“There it is. You think you get it now but you just don’t. This isn’t the brain, Major, this is me.” ~ Liv, 2x09  

Can we just talk about how important these two quotes are though? I loved when Liv said this line because as much as I love Major, she is so right. He wants what they used to have, to have his fiance back, and she wanted the same thing, but she’s realizing (again) how badly this will turn out. Major wants to be part of her life but it’s different now, and it’s hard for him to fully understand why. Major tries hard, so hard, to get Liv and understand her life, but he just can’t fully accept it. 

Major sees Liv as his zombie girlfriend, the one who he has to protect and keep safe, the one who used to be his fiance. But Ravi? He knew from the beginning. It helps that he didn’t know her before, and that’s fantastic, because he doesn’t see her as Liv The Zombie, but rather as just Liv

Whether this parallels speaks to their amazing friendship or hopefully a future relationship, I love it so much. Ravi’s never been ashamed of her or lost faith - even when she went into zombie mode and he was scared, he told her that she was in there, and he was right. Whenever she’s on a brain, he not only handles it, but loves it. Ravi has been there for Liv since he’s found out and he continues to keep her in check while still enjoying her zombie side. Liv may not have made the connection in her talk, but Ravi was the first person - the only person - in her life who realized what she was and accepted it, and helps her with it. Ravi knows which is the brain, and which is Liv and that’s just so important because Liv needs that the most right now. 

anonymous asked:

My favourite person is just eternally kind. I'm not a poet, but she makes me want to write sonnets about the size of her heart. There has never been a person I have loved more; she has been through so much and it messed her up but she never lost faith in humanity. She's constantly trying to make the world a brighter, better place. And, oh, she gets so excited about everything? Nature is a constant miracle to her, and she makes me care for things I would never have looked at twice.

So I have thoughts about Hermione.

On black Hermione.

It’s kind of an excellent thing to think about. The Wizarding World, to me, seems to be kind of ahead of the times in skin-color based racism, though they replace it easily enough with blood based racism. The Muggle world, however, sucks.

Imagine little Hermione, coming from a world where her parents, despite being successful and productive members of society, get looks in the street. Where her father, when he doesn’t bother to change out of his sweatpants when he takes her to the grocery store gets looks from indignant mothers, gets followed and watched by workers, has people clutching their wallets with white fingers as he walks by.

Imagine little Hermione, asking her parents why, because let’s be real, she’s the most curious seven-year-old who has ever walked this Earth and her parents just look at each other. They try to explain. “They feel like we’re different from them. Some people don’t understand people who are different, many don’t even try to. Sometimes people are cruel because you look different from them, and it’s not right, but the only thing that we can do is try to change that.”

Imagine little Hermione reading and studying to try to make herself better, to try to prove to the bigots in the world that she is as good as they are. Because little girls still look at black dolls and white dolls and say that the white one is smarter, that the white one is prettier.

Imagine little Hermione with her dark bushy hair and overbite feeling like she can never be pretty, despite what her parents tell her, so she works to be smart.

Imagine Hermione, at eleven, entering Diagon Alley with her parents and Professor McGonagall, and she thinks that maybe she could finally escape to a different world, one that accepts her.

Imagine Hermione getting onto the Hogwarts Express, waving an only slightly tearful goodbye to her parents as they train pulls away, but with a heart full of hope. Nobody looks at her like she’s different. Nobody looks at her like she’s lesser. And she sits with a shy, clumsy boy named Neville and he stutters an introduction before realizing that his toad has disappeared. And she helps him to look and she feels the hope blossoming in her chest because maybe here, in this new world she can have friends.

Imagine Hermione and how happy she is to make friends, even if it took a dangerous situation for it to happen. And she is fiercely protective of them, fiercely loyal to them.

Imagine Hermione the first time that she hears the word Mudblood whispered in the girls’ toilet on the first floor while she sat in a stall, keeping still and silent. She doesn’t know what it means exactly, but she understands enough.

Imagine Hermione realizing that racism isn’t only skin deep, that it isn’t only Muggles that spit it out like venom, that it isn’t only Muggles that have to figure out some way to overcome it, to find their antidote.

Imagine Hermione, an adult now, fighting her war not only in the Wizarding World, but in the Muggle one, picketing and marching and protesting. She gets thrown in jail once or twice, for disturbing the peace. And she could apparate away before they could get her in the mass, of course, but that isn’t how she fights. She stays until the end. Because she moved from one world into a magical one only to find that magic doesn’t fix people.

On Jewish Hermione.

She’s always been the before pictures when it comes to makeovers. From frizzy, curly hair to straight and smooth. From too pale skin with that olive undertone to a sun-kissed spray tan. Brown eyes are not the eyes of princesses. Hooked noses do not appear on model’s faces.

She was always a reader, though, and the first in her Hebrew School class to understand all of the symbols that the rest of her schoolmates found foreign.

When she left for Hogwarts, her parents worried. Would she be okay so far from home? How would she keep Kosher? What about the Shabbat? What about her Bat Mitzvah?

Hermione, however, was not concerned. At Hogwarts she was different, and that was okay. There were times when she felt lost, but never from her culture, from her faith. She fasted for Yom Kippur and feasted on honey  and apples on Rosh Hashanah. On the first night of Hanukkah, before the Christmas holidays started, latkes appeared on her plate and she lit the menorah alone in her room.

Once she learned where the kitchens were, she went there sometimes, especially during Passover. Even the house-elves were a bit distressed by their limits then, so she made matzah brei herself. She and Anthony Goldstein exchanged recipes.

While the other students sang Christmas Carols and hunted for Easter Eggs, she said her prayers and practiced her Hebrew and learned her Torah portion almost entirely without help. And when she returned home for the summer after her third year she easily completed her mitzvah because she wanted to help people. (And organizing that clothing drive helped her immensely to start SPEW the next year.)

Hermione never lost her faith, but she learned that it was not the only thing that made her special. She had magic and bravery and she could almost ride a broomstick sometimes if she really wanted to and she was the youngest Department Head ever at the Ministry until Harry took her title, even though she was first.

And when she married Ron she made sure that he smashed a glass goblet (and her family, small though it was, yelled a “Mazel tov!” that shamed even the Weasleys in volume). And when they danced the hora, Hermione laughed at Ron’s very vocal distress as well as his white-knuckled grip (despite hers being quite similar).

Rose and Hugo did not go to Hebrew school, though they did attend the Seder and learn the prayers and play dreidel over the Christmas holidays, taking as much joy in lighting the Menorah as they did in putting lights on the Christmas tree.

And when they first moved out, Hermione made sure that each of them had a Mezuzah for their front door.


Baby I’ve been here before
I’ve seen this room and I’ve walked this floor (you know)
I used to live alone before I knew ya
And I’ve seen your flag on the marble arch
And love is not a victory march
It’s a cold and it’s a broken Hallelujah

When Sigyn was a child, she was swept off to the palace with her family. The king himself claimed that she had a power all her own, something no one could ever best. But the power was hidden deep within her, and it was drawn out through torture. Even as she gained control of her powers, she refused to help the greedy king. She couldn’t tell anyone she loved, or they would suffer the price. Odin couldn’t kill Sigyn, so she would have to be punished through her heart. In all the mess, she met a kindred spirit one day in the library. He held her as she cried and listened to everything that had happened to her.

The love between Loki and Sigyn grew over time, and their affair became the stuff of legends. Sigyn, forever loyal and honest, never lost her faith despite her pain. Loki, on the other hand, grew angry with the treatment of his beloved. Sigyn kept a journal, and it became her downfall when Odin discovered it. No longer was it just Sigyn who had to suffer, but Loki as well. Their time out of the dungeons was scarce, but in that time, Sigyn caught wind of a devious plan brewing. She slit her throat, hoping that she would be free to thwart Thanos in her next life and Loki would be free of pain. She had no idea that she had played into the Mad Titan’s trap.

Getting an invitation to go to Asgard with Thor and Jane was nothing short of incredible for Darcy, but when she was unwittingly compared to Sigyn in a campfire game, she began to ask questions. Why would a seemingly happy woman take her own life? Falling in love with a mysterious man that made her feel more alive than she ever had before was an incredible distraction, but finding Sigyn’s diary set her back on course. She read Sigyn’s stories over and over again, feeling for the woman more than she ever thought possible. Darcy confronted everyone who could have been involved. Cue the screaming, the rage, the tears, and finally the truth.

The Girl and Her Demon


Abandoned in the desert country of Jakku, the young Rey waited fifteen years for her family to return to her, to no avail. It was thanks to the church that Rey still had hope they would arrive. While she labored for her uncle who barely provided her enough provisions to make a living, Rey found sanctuary and safety in the church.

Every Sunday morning was a blessing, as Unkar would excuse her to go into town to attend Father Tekkas sermons. He was a gentle old man who Rey wished was her guardian instead of Uncle Unkar. Because of her newfound faith, Rey never lost hope of her families return.

When her work was done at the end of the day, she would prey, using the rosary Father Tekka generously provided her. At the end of each day, she scraped a scratch mark in a book. 

As Rey grew, everyone noticed how beautiful she had become. A face like hers should not have been concealed by a headscarf or a veil. A woman as petite as she had no place laboring in the desert.

She was distinctly known as the girl in the beige dress, the boots, and with skin like the desert sand they tread upon.

Unkar even took notice, He was able to control his urges for some time, but they grew worse each time a young man came to request his permission to marry her. Not even asking Rey how she felt, he turned them all away with a good beating. She did not have love for any of them, but did not approve of the way her uncle treated them.

Her love was only for the lord.

Unkar came out of his room one night to see Rey at the table, reciting her prayers. The book she marked her tallies was almost full, the pages crispy with ink marks. 

“You’re wasting your breath, girl.” he told her. “You know the truth; they ain’t comin’ back. Don’t deny it.”

The church told her to never lose faith, no matter what other people said, so Rey ignored him, advancing to her next Hail Mary.

“Are ye deaf girl?”

Rey didn’t like to end her rosary session until the last prayer, but he wasn’t going away.

“Maybe you should go to church, uncle.” she suggested. “You certainly need it.”

The hulking bald man stepped closer behind her. Rey could feel the rivers in her skin run dry.

“I don’ need some church. Ah have an angel right ‘ere.”

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What can i say about Julia. She was the bravest woman i have ever met. She was endlessly curious. She was quite possibly the most stubborn individual to walk this Earth in it’s four billion or so years. She was loyal and she always had your back. She was always rooting for the underdog… and she couldn’t help it. She never lost her faith in the basic goodness of humanity.
—  Dale ‘Barbie’ Barbara

anonymous asked:

please please please write a follow up to your WWII fic? where maybe bellamy comes home?

Here you go, I hope you like it!   (part one)

Read it on AO3

Her plane touches down with a bump and coasts on the tarmac.

There are empty eyes in the young soldier beside Clarke. The war is over, but the body count is not.

Clarke wonders if there’s a scar where her heart should be. For the past two years, she’s watched good men, young men, men with their whole lives ahead of them, and men with families back home, die. On the field. In her arms. On a cot in the hospital. She’s also seen men who didn’t die but wished they had. And in each face, she saw Bellamy’s.

She signed on as a nurse because Clarke was never someone who could sit at home while other people risked their lives. So, instead, she went with them. Not because she loved her country or believed in this war, but because she loved Bellamy and knew that each man on that field had a person or a family at home who loved them too.

Her father’s hug is tight and smells like stale cigarettes when she comes out of the airport. Her mother is notably absent and Clarke is glad for the reprieve before the inevitable blow up.

Clarke’s mother hadn’t wanted her to go. Clarke had just been starting her second year of college and her mother didn’t want her risking her life in a war. There had been threats, yelling, but, in the end, Clarke was nineteen and nothing could stop her.

On the drive home, Clarke pulls Bellamy’s latest letter from her pocket and unfolds the paper carefully. It’s dated four months ago and she hasn’t heard from him since.

Her fingers trace the crowded lines made by his pen. She lingers on the last line.

I love you and I’m coming home to you.

He ended every letter the same way. With that promise of a future together.

A tear tracks a line down Clarke’s chin. She tucks the letter away before her sadness can mar the ink.

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As a soon-to-be teacher watching Finding Dory (spoilers)

Whilst watching Finding Dory, the aspect about the film that stood out to me the most was how Dory’s parents dealt with her short term memory loss. Though they worried for her, they did not shame her for her inability to remember; they found ways to provide her with the tools to interact with her environment. They never lost faith in their daughter’s ability to preform at a level that characters saw as only achievable by able-minded individuals.

As a soon-to-be Early Childhood teacher, Dory’s parents and their tireless devotion to their daughter, in spite of her condition spoke to me. Pixar demonstrated in a animated movie about fish the importance of differentiation and accommodation for students with learning disability. 

Instead of either isolating Dory from the outside world or forcing her to “be like the other children”, Dory’s parents utilized a plethora of strategies to give their daughter the ability to navigate a world that has trouble accommodating her condition. And Dory owes her survival and success to her parents, ultimately allowing her to find happiness. We, as educatosr, and even as future parents, need to take a lesson from this film:

Children with learning disabilities can succeed in our world, in their own unique ways, if we take the time to help find the strategies that they need, and, if we have faith in their capabilities. Just like Dory, we just need to keep swimming :)

My aunt’s brain has become
filled with fragments emptied of entirety 
and so we take every sentence riddled with
craters and vowels that do not belong 
and we cradle them, hoping they might grow
into coherent stories about
summers in France, and champagne spilled
by the canals of Amsterdam

Every word she says is covered with a film of grey
that will never rinse off
she has lost faith in her lips
because they can no longer translate her thoughts
she tells me I have a lot of nice things
but I am half of what I once was
some nights I am afraid my body is 
dripping off of window sills

My uncle is well versed in her every memory
he has become the story teller
and he does a good impression, but
he longs for her voice to light up the words
his mouth cannot do justice

Every night she takes him by the hands
and apologizes for her foolish absent mind
as if she had only forgotten to buy milk at the grocery
and he lays down, recalling every detail of that day
he will have to remind her of tomorrow

He is an actor without a script
he is tied to her by the strings of
German puppets and threads from
Swedish jackets,

and her mind does wander,
but she cannot go anywhere
that he will not follow

Why Jemma lost hope

I have seen a few posts recently talking about Jemma giving up on Fitz, and I have to say that I feel very strongly about this. Everyone is entitled to their own opinion, of course, and everyone speaks from their own perspective and experience, but If I’m honest, I have to admit that I kind of resent people judging Jemma for losing hope. This is because I know from personal experience what a fragile thing hope can be. Obviously, I have never been stranded on an alien planet, but I have been in an ongoing life-threatening situation where hope and faith were required of me - not just once but three times. I have had cancer twice and I also suffered from heart failure as a result of the cancer treatment. I related so hard to Jemma’s journey from fear to hope to despair to acceptance in 3x05, because I’ve been through that exact journey myself. And there are several things that I want to say about it. This is a long post so I’ve put it after the cut.

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The Rebel and the Rose. Part 3. Chapter 7.

This, dear friends, is the last chapter. Sigh. I do have an epilogue to come and then two outtakes that I wrote but didn’t fit…but here’s to the end for our intrepid adventurers. CHEERS!

MEGA THANKS, as always, to @lenny9987 for editing this beast for me, you’re a superstar and I’m eternally grateful.

All other parts found: HERE.

As dawn broke and the deep orange glow filtered through the small window of the temporary suite, the lovers awoke. Their bones ached having fallen asleep on the floor, lost in the haze of lust and pleasure and the tang of the other on their mouths. Claire’s legs throbbed as Jamie pulled her atop him and clenched her arse in both of his hands. She sighed as he took her, shaking and desperate, the sound of their breathy moans filling the dusky room.

Claire bit against Jamie’s lip as she came to him, her arms shaking where they held her over him. He couldn’t help but cry out as he joined her, his hips rising off the floor one final time. They lay, sweaty and sated, as long as they were able before Murtagh came pounding on the door.

“Come on, ye pair of fiends! We ha’ a ship to catch!” There was an unmistakable air of mockery in his tone, unable to contain the humour he tried desperately to mask with impatience. “I’m sure ye’ve had yer fill of each other by now. Put the lassie down and get dressed, Jamie lad.”

They chuckled as they dressed each other, peppering kisses across each inch of skin they covered with material, making the job twice as long as it should have been. Murtagh was tapping his foot at the bottom of the stairs as the newlyweds descended.

“Ach! Finally, I thought I was going to ha’ to pour water over the both of ye. Glad to see ye suitably dressed.” He teased, a small smile gracing his face through the tirade. Claire noticed him pat Jamie subtly on the back as she went to collect them some breakfast. The trip to the coast would be a short one, but she knew Jamie wasn’t looking forward to their crossing. Neither was she. She’d been on boats before, and never had she seen a trouble-free trip. Still, they had each other now, and that was all that mattered.

Once suitably fed, Murtagh led the horses round, they mounted and were off without so much as a goodbye to their kind Welsh hosts, it being too early for most of them to be up and about. Especially after such a leery night. The few stable maids that were bobbing about did give them a nervous wave as the group departed. Jamie was sure with all of the drama surrounding their arrival that they weren’t all that sad to see them go.

Claire still didn’t feel up to riding alone, so Jamie opted to have her close to him, something that he didn’t really mind. The entire ride he spent admiring the way the movement caused them to slide together, her arse wedged tightly between his thighs. The vast Welsh countryside passed by as the galloped towards the closest port, hoping to make it as soon as possible.

As the daylight dwindled they caught their first glimpse of the sea. They halted for a moment to make sure each was prepared. Murtagh would lead, securing their passage so that Jamie and Claire could remain hidden for as long as possible. They weren’t too worried about them being recognised, but it was always worth being vigilant. Jamie helped Claire to dismount as his godfather disappeared off into the main city. Sitting away from the main road, just beyond the tree line, they awaited his return.

“I’m sorry I dinna have a ring for ye, Claire. But I promise as soon as I’m able, I’ll get ye one.” He took her right hand in his and rubbed her ring finger lovingly, his eyes soft as he kissed it over and over.

“I don’t need jewellery, Jamie. I just need you. So long as we’re together, all is right with the world.” She ran her free hand through his tousled curls as he lay his head in her lap. The smell of cooked meat lingered in the air, the houses close by all clearing up from their evening meals. Claire’s stomach growled noisily and Jamie laughed, neither had eaten since breakfast and it was painfully obvious how hungry they both were.

“Hopefully, once Murtagh has us aboard, I’ll be able to go in search of some bread for ye. Maybe some honey if we’re lucky!” He said, nuzzling his nose into the fabric of her skirts, though he kent that for him, eating before sailing would be a bad idea. Best to get a wee bit of good whisky inside him instead.

As if reading his mind she pulled a flask from her pocket and dangled it in front of his face, his hand pushing against her knee as he sat up and smiled across at her. “Do you mean a wee dram, my lad?” She mocked, her faux Scottish accent making him belly-laugh.

“Aye, I do Claire. We’ll make a Scot out of ye yet!”

“Murtagh gave it to me before, when he took me from the church. I hadn’t much stomach for it then, but I kept it. As a keepsake. I’ll never forget what he did for me –for us. And I’ll never forget what you did for me either.” She sighed, her hands trembling as she thought back over those terrible months locked away. “I love you, Jamie. Not just because of what you did, before that. For your bravery, your strength, your loyalty. I was angry at you for such a long time, especially after you left, but w-what happened made me see – they could’ve done anything they liked to me, but I would never have given you up. Ever. And I know that’s how you felt about your men.”

He’d picked her up and held her to his chest almost without realising, her sweaty palms now clinging to the front of his shirt. He scrunched his eyes shut at the image of her bound, beaten and alone. He kent that all too well. The abject misery, the fear, the hopelessness. Yet she’d never lost faith in her love of him, and that’s what had kept her strong under the most devastating circumstances. His heart swelled at the thought, and he clung to her almost as hard as she clung to him.

“I’m sorry you can’t return to them.”

“No, a gráidh! Dinna be sorry, please. Murtagh was right when he told me I was a daft fool. Aye, they’re my men, and I should be there to lead them. Whether that be into battle or home, but none of that comes close to how much I need ye—how much I’ll always need you. I was away from ye for those months and yet I held you in my heart. Ye never left me, as I never left you.”

She wiped the few stray tears from her cheeks as she kissed the exposed part of his chest, his stock having been left aside during their quick dressing. She felt him swallow, the tiny hairs along his neck tickling her nose.

“I love ye, Claire, I’ll ne'er let ye out of my sight again, do ye hear?” She heard the humour in his voice and snorted.

“Fat chance, Mr Fraser. You’ll have to at some point.”

“Just ye watch me, Mrs Fraser!” He placed a kiss on the crown of her head and wrapped his arms more snuggly around her, both were quiet now, the wee insects making their presence known as the night drew in.

Eventually Murtagh found them once more, curled up against the base of a tree, locked in a tight embrace.

“You pair are making me sick! All this –love–. Time to get ye away though, then I can finally get back t’ some real men, aye!” He gave Jamie’s boot a swift kick, causing them both to jump before gathering their wits.

“Dinna jest, Murtagh. You’ll miss us when we’re gone.”

They kept up their japes until they all reached the edge of the city where Murtagh left the horses, safe for his return, and led them soundlessly to the port. Being well into the night the streets were relatively quiet, with only the odd drunken sailor lumbering by. Claire chose to say a quick goodbye to Murtagh, a peck on the cheek and a ‘thank you’. She’d never been good at leaving people behind and she reasoned that they would see him again soon.

Jamie took his time, making sure his godfather kent all of their arrangements.

“Murtagh, just see them safe, aye? Then make yer way back to us. I need ye.”

“Dinna fash, Jamie. But I dinna think ye should go all the way to Paris, just the pair of ye. Wait in Le Havre, we’ll find each other easier that way, then we can travel on together. I’ve left ye enough coin to seek refuge there for a time. Speak to Jared, and get yerselves settled. I willna be long. Alright?”

“Aye, alright.” With one hug, Murtagh was off into the darkness, leaving Jamie alone on the gangplank. He took one look at the sky, sent a silent prayer and made his way to meet Claire.

As he made it to her side he grasped her hand tight, pulling her into him as the ship hoisted its sails, pulled up its anchor and began its voyage. They both managed to survive their exit from the harbour, watching as the lights from the Welsh village dimmed, flickered and disappeared from the horizon. The sea was eerily quiet, at any other moment it might have seemed spooky, but to Jamie and Claire it signalled peace.

He’d crashed into her life all those months ago and since then they’d weathered an increasingly dark and powerful storm only to come out the other side stronger than ever. A new beginning wouldn’t be easy, but they had each other, mind, body and soul. They turned at the same time, him bending a little as she leaned up in her tiptoes, their noses touching as they whispered their almost silent 'I love you’s’ into the inky blackness, the deck rising and falling with the swell as they journeyed towards a bright future, as one.


I hope Emma understands that when Killian says “you saved me,” he’s not just talking about from the river of lost souls. or his never ending faith that she will inevitably realize her goal and save him from the Underworld.

She saved him from giving up his life to a meaningless quest for revenge.

She saved him from going it alone in the world when she asked him to be a part of something and gave him not just her, but an entire, ridiculous network of family to care about him.

She saved him by never failing to try and get him to believe he could be a hero, but still loving him for being a pirate.

She saved him by giving him hope after centuries devoid of it.

She saved him by loving him after centuries of losing it, yearning for it, and believing he would never have it again.

She saved him in all the ways a person can be saved.

I hope someday she realizes just all the ways she saved him.

I hope someday he realizes just all the ways he saved her right back.

(for @killians-dimples because we were having feelings about it)

Notice how in this shot, before they hug again, Elsa reaches out first, with her arms extended and slowly approaching Anna.

Keep in mind that Elsa avoided being touched for many years, especially from Anna, whom she loved dearly. She did all of that just to protect Anna.

When Anna thawed from her frozen heart curse, Elsa was overjoyed to see her alive and didn’t even hesitate to hug her, especially since she no longer wears gloves.

Now here, after she has thawed Arendelle, Elsa wants to give Anna another hug. She hesitates initially because she is still a bit nervous of harming her, and probably more so because she worries Anna may not want to hug her after she (Anna) was struck a second time. But even so, Elsa believes that if she focuses on how much she loves Anna, she won’t hurt her. This is why she wears a smile, and she is full of hope that they will hug again.

And they do, much to the happiness of both girls.

Remember that Anna told Elsa earlier that she wasn’t afraid. Even when Elsa felt despair, Anna remained confident and optimistic that Elsa could stop the winter. She never lost faith in her sister and never stopped loving her as well.

And so Anna is only excited to hug Elsa again.

As long as she remembers how much they love each other, Elsa should never be afraid to touch Anna again. Like Olaf said, she truly is the nicest, gentlest, warmest person ever.