#s3 angst

Oh wow that's a good question! I'm quite torn about the canon angst.

I'm NOT a fan of the series 2 angst storyline. Some of you might know this as I talked about it to some people. I know that others feel different and I guess I understand how the storyline can be intriguing, but I absolutely hate how it was executed. Even if Hugh Bonneville said he didn't feel it was out of character for Robert, I don't feel that way. For me, it's totally ooc with the things Robert says. I always struggle with these scenes when rewatching series 2.

I like the series 5 angst more. Of course, I hate Robert being such a huge Donk but I feel like it's a less superficially mapped-out storyline than the series 2 angst (probably a lot of judgement on my part). When I watched the show with my family, we got into an argument about the Bricker storyline. Especially my mother said that Cora was purposefully flirting and that she should think about the consequences before. I don't see that at all. I don't tire of defending Cora. But this argument made me more conflicted about the Bricker storyline and how people perceive it, so not a favourite lol

So, I think I would say that I like the series 3 angst the best. It is so heartbreaking and I love Sybil so much but it's sooooo well done! I hate seeing my Cobert babies so destroyed and more divided than ever but it brings so much depth to the characters and their feelings. And it's even better that they show how it actually makes their relationship grow and how they manage to find back to each other again.

Read on Ao3 Read on ff.net

No 26. Migraine — Aramis

Aramis pressed his face into the mattress where he was curled up, whimpering at the hot poker piercing his skull. His stomach rolled, and he sucked in a sharp breath in a desperate bid to keep it from rebelling. The last thing he needed was dry heaves making the pounding in his head even worse.

As if it could get worse. This was his own personal Hell on Earth.

Maybe his penance. For all he’d done wrong since the day he’d left the Musketeers for Douai and then forsook his vow in order to return. He’d done wrong abandoning his brothers, in Porthos’s eyes, and he’d done wrong coming back with them.

Another pitiful sound escaped past his lips, but there was no one to hear it.

He startled badly when a cold wet cloth was pressed against the back of his neck.

“Shh,” Constance whispered. “It’s just me.”

He prized his eyelids open a fraction and squinted at her. When had she come in? How long had she been there?

Her eyes were warm and full of concern—something Aramis had been sorely missing from another of his dearest friends. It made his heart ache.

“How long?” she asked softly.

He turned his face back into the mattress. “Midday.” He wasn’t sure he wanted to know what time it was now. The curtains of his window had been drawn closed to keep out the offending light.

There was the sound of sloshing water, and a moment later another cool cloth was held to his temple. Constance’s hands gently cupped his face and turned it upward, and she shifted the cloth to rest along his forehead. He moaned at the brief balm it provided against the raging torrent.

“Should I get the others?” Constance asked, keeping her voice low.

“No!” His eyes shot open, only to immediately close again as stars sparked across them. “No.”

Constance was quiet for a long moment. “Can I get you anything?”

He gave a minute head shake. There was nothing to do in these circumstances except wait for sleep to finally sweep him off to oblivion and pray that when he woke the next morning, his head wouldn’t feel like someone was setting off gunpowder inside it.

He expected Constance to take her leave then, and part of him desperately wanted to ask her to stay, but he didn’t feel he had the right.

She didn’t leave, though. The mattress dipped as she sat next to him, and cool fingers stroked the curls away from his face. She checked both cloths and removed the one at his neck in order to re-wet it.

Aramis basked in the comforting touches, overwhelming gratitude making his eyes prick with tears. He kept them squeezed shut so Constance wouldn’t see.

“I’m sorry things aren’t the same,” she said quietly.

Aramis’s throat constricted. “It’s not for any of them either,” he replied hoarsely.

“They do still love you, you know.”

Maybe, but as she’d said, it wasn’t the same.

“Thank you, Constance,” he whispered, hating the way his voice broke.

She leaned down and pressed a tender kiss to his brow. “I love you too.”

A traitorous tear slipped free, but it seeped directly into the mattress, hidden from view. And he could always claim the pain was just too great, taking him to his breaking point.

But he didn’t have to explain himself. Not to Constance.

I think I will love Mary (Amanda Abbington!) if only because she made John happy again. And John deserves happiness and Mary and John will probably be an amazing couple.

But Sherlock will be hurt. And I fear John will not understand the amount of hurt.