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thepinkdreamganjaqueen · 3 months ago

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Subway Obsessions Arthur's POV ch.1

Arthur Fleck POV x Fem!Reader

Masterlist 🩷

Summary: From Arthurs POV. It's just another night on the subway. A typical ride on the Gotham train on his way home from a long day of running errands and away from his tedious depressive thoughts. Perhaps he would catch a glimpse of the woman he could only seem to catch in passing, the woman he’d been secretly watching, following, fantasizing about nightly. Perhaps the unending misery that is the city above had him thinking of change, of something new to obsess about. Something to draw his mind away from the blistering and the mundane. Would he finally get the courage to talk to her?

Warnings: SMUT, NSFW, 18+, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, public exhibitionism, subway cruising, swearing, stalking, obsession, mentions of violence, fem!reader, romantic smut, fluff

A/N: Beginning to a series? Who knows. May add things later. First fic, btw! I'm hyper fixated now, so expect more. This is something I've been mulling around with for a while. I've done this story from both the readers' POV and from Arthur's because I can't get enough!! So, make sure to read both! I loved writing from this perspective so much, btw! Literally! Send ideas, edits, etc. my way!! And be nice please. The first chapter is mostly fluff/ descriptive plot/character building. Cheers! Enjoyyy!

Word Count: 3.9k

SERIES: Subway Obsessions

CHAPTER 1: Chance Meeting

Today was another mundane day. Arthur had been out earlier in the evening running errands for his mother. Picking up T.V. dinners at the grocer and medications for him and her at the local pharmacy. Still, getting around the city was a chore in of itself. He figured the subway would be the easiest and quickest way home. It was nearing 10 o'clock pm. His mother would be worried, and it was getting late. He knew the dangers of roaming Gotham city at these hours. His mother used to say, "That's when the colorful people come out." A way to make something serious, completely unserious. Still, he knew the dangers and tried as hard as he might to keep his wits about him. Easier said than done when you're a man with a neurological disorder, apparently so many people hate you for. He wished they’d understood or tried at least.

He always pondered why the people of Gotham were so... well so mean! Everyone he encountered save for the very, very few were just assholes to him. Perhaps it was the political climate? With Thomas Wayne running for government placement, it probably didn't help. Make the rich richer and the poor poorer he thought. Perhaps it was the state of the city itself, the infrastructure, the lack of resources. He sure has been on the wrong end of that stick one too many times. "Good people suffer Happy," his mother would say. But he never understood why it had to be that way. Life was circumstantial. He didn't ask to have what little he did. He didn't even ask to be born and thought life was the real joke.

It doesn't have to make sense to be funny! He jested internally. Because its fucked! And there lies the comedy for those broken enough to see, yet perhaps healed enough to laugh at the pain. Because, what else can you do?

His mind wandered through these endless fields of thought when a train car stopped in front of him. He had been standing on the platform disassociating for some time. Perhaps he even forgot where he was for a moment, ruminating over the wrongs of life and playing them out differently in his head. The things he didn't say or do, what he could have done differently...

The brisk hiss and click of the air brakes as they screeched to a halt brought him back to reality. He blinked a couple of times, waiting for the doors to open. As he did, a disheveled looking figure pushed past him while exiting. He burst out in a cry of compulsory laughter and stepped on the train. He was in the last car and immediately noticed it was bearable, as bearable as riding the subway can be he postulated.

In his search for a seat towards the end of the train car, he noticed a large putrid looking spill in the back. It melted off the seats and slid across the aisle. It looked sticky. Best to avoid that then, he thought. He opted for a bench seat away from the offending area and sat down, crossing one leg over the other and leaning back, arm outstretched on the head of the seat next to him. No one was in this car except for him. He found a moment of solace and drank it in, filling himself with the noiseless satisfaction of silence and peace when a warbled voice broke over the loud speaker. He couldn't really understand it, but the semblance of words spoke what sounded like “platform 19”. It was all he could understand through the robot whine. He felt anticipation rising within him.

At approximately 10:15 p.m., the doors of the subway train broke open with a gush of cold night air. At the other end of the subway, he watched as a woman stepped onto the train like a fawn. Scared and unsure of where to go or sit. She was bright and colorful; she immediately caught his eye. Was this what his mother meant by colorful people? He thought to himself. He quickly realized it was her! The girl he had fantasized about daily and nightly, hoping to catch her on the train but only seeming to in his thoughts and dreams, remembering her face, her scent that penetrated her surroundings. He had tirelessly followed her the first time he saw her. She was the only person to smile at him that day. He had to know more and had to know why. But she wasn't always on the same train. He always hoped to run into her and had almost given up, thinking she must have been some sort of hallucination he created for himself to lessen his own pain. But there she was.

She looked different tonight. She looked like a predator, displaying colors brightly in the face of possible danger. She was a force; he felt the atmosphere change as soon as she stepped in through the steel doors, a thickness lifted in the air and he could feel himself tense in his seat. His clothes were suddenly uncomfortable, his collar too tight, his hands, sweaty. She always looked beautiful when he saw her, she always looked content and comfortable. Hair in a messy bun with strands falling about her face swayed by the wind that surged through the train car. Sweats he could still make out her figure through, leaving him wanting more every time, it drove him crazy! But today she looked like she was straight out of the films on the TV! He thought to himself. She made him think of glamour, it's the only word that truly fit, like the old films he would watch with his mom. Wow! Was she a sight to see, a cool pristine liquid flowing over his burning eyes. A soothing image of pure proclivity. An unknown sense of calm swept over him.

He watched, frozen, as she cautiously observed the train car searching for a seat. He looked at her from top to bottom. She was significantly smaller than him, petite, probably around five feet three he gauged. Fuzzy black boots, blue jeans tightly hugging her figure, full thick thighs, his mouth began to water - he thirsted for her, wanted to drink in her every essence. He felt a lump in his throat as he tried to choke it down. A tight black shirt under a small cropped pink sweater with red hearts all over. It perfectly displayed her large soft breasts. Brown curls bounced about her shoulders as she walked, strands of them fell daintily on her face and cheeks. As she walked, she would flick it away with a quick movement of her head. The way she did that, moving her hair out of her face without using her hands. It made him tingle in all the right places. His mind raced. What else can she do without using her hands? he thought.

There was something pink in her hair too, he saw as she walked past. She didn't notice him at first. Most people don't he thought to himself. Although this thought disappointed him, he didn't fault her for it. He had the urge to make her notice him. To be a presence and to be objectified by her, he only wished he could hold that kind of power.

As she passed, the scent he had come to know as her- wafted past him, he sucked in through his teeth sharply. It was heaven on earth. Stimulating. He would follow that scent hoping to find her, mercilessly searching. It was like a drug, an aphrodisiac, and he felt his cock spasm. She was eyeing the seats towards the back where that odd spill was. A butterfly he thought. It's a pink butterfly in her hair. He immediately felt like a school boy again, fawning over and wanting to get the attention of the pretty girl and for her to return it.

"This one's fine!" He blurted out, not really knowing what he was saying. She turned around, her beauty, dark, striking, and he found it hard to speak again. He stammered and was able to get the lump out of his throat to follow up with; "I don't know what that is back there but these are not so bad" his voice felt cracked but he tried to contain his composure, he didn't want to scare her off. He was the only other person on the train, and it must have jolted her since she didn't see him at first. Plus, she probably thinks I'm some kind of creep or weirdo, he thought to himself. There was some truth behind those thoughts, but that didn't make him a bad person, he thought. All day, he spends trying to have a nice day to make himself and others happy, trying to think good thoughts, trying not to let the bad influence the good he can salvage.

"Oh, thank you!" A sweet voice broke the monotony of thought, and immediately he was flung back into the present. She made her way to the seats laid out in front of him. A row of sideways seating. He watched her sit gracefully, slowly, like a calculated ballet dancer, he thought. Every move fluid, every move perfect. When she sat, she arranged her things on the seat next to her and settled in. He wondered to himself where she was going. Why she had so many bags, why she was riding the subway so late, as a woman, she should be terrified. This city is not safe, especially for someone as strikingly beautiful as her. She was like a beacon of light, too bright to stare at, but he was drawn to her like a moth to a flame and simply couldn't resist the allure.

She actually sat next to me! He thought. Only one seat away, actually next to me. But that wasn't all. She saw him, noticed him, heard him, and listened to him. The weight of these simple gestures made his hands sweaty, and he tried his best to remain aloof. The doors of the train opened on the other side of her, and a breeze blew her hair behind her and over her face. He couldn't help but see her, every aspect of her. He studied her every move, every inch of her body. He wanted this to last, for this image to never leave his mind.

The wind that blew past her carried on it her scent. He was suddenly overwhelmed by the sweet alluring scent of peach? No. Some kind of berry? No. When the doors shut and the pressure created another breeze, the scent wafted to him again. Taking it all in, he identified the smell as watermelon. Some kind of fruity smell filled his senses with the feeling of euphoria. It was intoxicating. He wondered what it would be like to be pressed up against her, inhaling her deeply. He looked down with a deep sigh when he looked back over. She was moving a strand of hair out of her face and caught a glimpse of her looking at him as well. Her cheeks flushed instantly, and she broke her gaze. She was fire, burning too hot near him, and he wanted so badly to play, to burn himself, engulf himself in her flames breathlessly.

He tried to come up with something to say, anything. How do I talk to her? What would I even say without sounding stupid? He thought. He watched on as the florescent lights above her flickered. It lit up parts of her he hadn't seen upon first observation. Glitter decorated her collar bones and cheeks. Her sweater was slightly unzipped. He could see the peeking out of her cleavage. Sparkling with glitter, so pretty, she reminded him of the stars of the night sky. Unmistakably beautiful, yet so. Far. Away. He had been working up the courage to say something to her, to hear her voice again, he didn't want to forget it. A symphony replayed in his mind. He needed more.

He stumbled over his words, "Sorry, I-it's hard for me to talk, I meant to introduce myself. I'm Arthur, " he said in the kindest, most unassuming voice he could muster. She looked up and locked eyes. They burned his insides like hot coals. He anticipated her reply, not knowing if she would even engage in conversation with him. "No worries!" She spoke in a reassuring way that made his heart flutter. "I know how it can be, trust me!" She sounded genuine. Kind. There was something underneath her voice, though he couldn't quite conceptualize. Fear? Doubt, maybe? He wanted to take it away.

"I'm Y/N. Nice to meet you, Arthur!" Again, her voice beaming so light and so lifting. She reached out to shake his hand that he had offered. Her hand was small and was practically swallowed by his. Her fingers were warm, sweeping softly over his palm as she grasped his hand in hers. It's a simple thing, he thought. It was a small touch, but it was enough to make him crumble inside. She felt so nice! "Y/N," he said. "I like that." He lamented. Such a beautiful name. But everything about her was beautiful. Her presence was wholesome and welcoming. Is this real? he pondered. Thoughts took over again, and not knowing how to continue the conversation, they sat in silence for a moment as he worked up the courage to speak again.

Moments passed that felt like a lifetime, but he was content in her presence, soaking up her aura. As he went to ask her a question, she moved to speak as well. Catching each other off guard, Arthur profusely apologized "No it's okay, go ahead," he said, not wanting to interrupt her. "No, no, that's okay, what were you going to say?" She insisted back. Her voice was small and mousey, she seemed so shy. Why would she be? She screams confidence and power. Even in her apprehensive movements, she seems calculated, he thought to himself. He stole another glance at her. Her eyes sparkled reminiscent of a smokey quartz gem in a bracelet he once saw in a shop window. A thought of her adorned in nothing but gems crossed his mind. He tried to hold onto the image before it left his mind's eye. He felt a flush in his cheeks again, and his eyes darted. He couldn't look her in the eyes for too long. It made him nervous. He was working up the urge to speak again, to say something, anything.

He broke the silence and asked, "So what brings you to ride the subway so late at night? Aren't you scared?" He uttered jokingly. After saying it, he felt immediate stupidity. Why would I say that? He thought and started an inner spiral. As if seeing his reaction to his own question and wanting to ease the tension building within him, Y/N said, " Well, I work at the Gotham shelter overnight. So, having to ride the train every night, I guess, I've gotten used to it for the most part. But, yeah, I do get scared sometimes. The city can be super sketchy, and I've been attacked twice already, so I had to buy mace and stuff to try and protect myself."

The words spilled out of her mouth like a wave of glass, he couldn't fathom her ever saying this of all things, it was jolting for him and triggered something within him he had tried so long to hide. His mind raced. He felt anger and rage well up inside of him it hardened his sternum and burned in his throat. He became stiff but was unaware. The spiraling began to start again. This city was ruining people, hurting people, good people! He thought. She helps people, and then people hurt her?! Pieces of shit! He screamed internally. The emotions he felt were at war within himself. He felt rage for her pain and suffering at the hands of this city's denizens, he felt fear for her life knowing she rides the train every night, he felt regret, why couldn't he have been there to help, to do something? He all but took the pain on as his own, it soaked through to his core. He too had been at the mercy of some of the worst people he has ever had the displeasure of encountering in this god forsaken city, he too had been attacked, hurt, mercilessly tortured by these fucking terrible people.

Lost in his train of thought and looking straight ahead he couldn't help but sternly say in sympathy "These people are just fucking terrible!" She must have noticed his change in demeanor at this declaration. He suddenly felt a warmth cross his leg, and lightly squeeze. It was smooth and comforting. His concentration broke completely. Pulled out of a trance by her as if the thoughts were just zapped out of his brain. His eyes quickly darted back to her where they followed the length of her shoulder, to her arm, and from her arm to her hand that rested upon his thigh. He felt the muscles in his face relax, his shoulders dropped, jaw unclenched. The sheer power she had over him he thought. The warmth emanating off of her palm was like security, a blanket of nostalgia. He couldn't remember the last time he felt what felt like love, like connection, or attachment. He couldn't help but see flashes of images in his mind, her moving her hand closer to his cock which had began to throb. He tried to brush away those thoughts but they plagued him. She was touching him. Something that never happens to him. He immediately craved her touch, he wanted more, he wondered how that would be possible. He thought this couldn't be real. Not this time.

Once again, breaking his thought pattern she spoke, and he gave her his full attention. "Yeah, but I'm ok now!" She said in a reassuring tone. Her voice, like petals on velvet. Soft, gentle. "You're here now! And so, I feel safe." Safe? He thought, with me? Like she trusts me? He could feel the negative thoughts start to brim to the surface of his mind but quelled them by responding instead. He needed clarification. The words she spoke just didn't make sense to him. He couldn't see why she would or should trust him, although he so badly wanted her to, for this to be true, he needed it to be. He suddenly felt the urge to never leave her, to always be by her side. He would watch, he would follow, and he would do anything for her.

He only imagined what it would be like to know her both romantically and intimately. "You feel safe? W-with me?" He spoke haphazardly, unsure of the answer he wanted to hear, hoped to hear. "I do." She looked into his eyes sincerely. His heart leapt into his throat; he couldn't breathe. She was so fucking beautiful. He wanted to grab her, to feel her against him. He shifted his legs at the thought. Looking up at him like that weakened him in so many ways. Most noticeably, in his pants, where he tried to conceal the results of his dirty thoughts. "Then I will protect you Y/N" he proclaimed proudly. A shy smile touched her lips and she continued to gaze into his eyes. He smiled back. I make her feel safe, he thought. She is comfortable in my presence. No one even bothers talking to me, no one ever wants to talk to me. He had the urge to speak once more but couldn't find the words.

Before either of them could speak, the subway speaker rang out once again in that barely audible robotic toned voice announcing the next stop as the harsh brakes squeaked heavily to a stop. As if anticipating her to leave, he just as quickly stood up and offered out his hand. "Thank you," her voice sang. She turned to face him, her small stature looking up at him once more. He held his composure but felt the heat well up inside him. "It was so nice having someone to ride the train with tonight for a change!" She cheerfully exclaimed with a smile.

She had grabbed her things and had let go of his hand. What sweet bliss it was for the few seconds he had held it. Her fingers, so dainty and soft. The train screeched to a halt, and he instinctively grabbed her hand again and put his other hand at the small of her back to steady her. He could feel the soft curve of her spine. He slowly moved a pinky closer, hoping she wouldn't notice, tracing the line of her jeans as he did, feeling the line of her panty through the fabric. He quickly pulled away as she exited the train. He had held back. He wanted to do so much more. He wanted to turn her around, grab her face and kiss her, shove her onto the subway seats, and have his way with her, make her cry out. He wanted her to miss work. He wanted her to quit! He wanted her all to himself.

This moment was too perfect. It felt like a dream. As she stepped off the platform and began to walk away, he stood as the doors shut, helplessly watching her as she slowly walked. Unable to stop time. As the train brakes hissed and cranked, he saw her stop and turn around. She had stepped to the doors, but it was too late. He watched on as her figure shrunk into the distance as the train traveled once again into the dark tunnel. He waved. He would see her again. He would make sure of that. Platform 19. He thought, I'll remember this time.

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the-blaze-empress · 1 month ago

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Small Gods

Chapters: 8/? Fandom: Dream SMP Rating: Teen and Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Technoblade & Phil Watson | Philza, Ranboo & Phil Watson | Philza, Niki | Nihachu & Phil Watson | Philza, Philza’s Relationship With Himself, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Technoblade/Phil Watson | Philza Characters: Phil Watson | Philza, Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Ranboo (Video Blogging RPF), Niki | Nihachu, Toby Smith | Tubbo, TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Jack Manifold Additional Tags: Background Ranboo/Tubbo, Alternate Universe – Gods & Goddesses, Alternate Universe – Modern Setting, Trans Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), He/Him and They/Them Pronouns for Ranboo (Video Blogging RPF), Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Accidental Self-Harm, past transphobia, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Angst, Queerplatonic Technoblade/Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), God Ranboo, Other Additional Tags to be Added, Phil and Techno are very ambiguous interpret them how you want Summary:

Techno’s question weighs heavy on his mind even hours later, when the room is dark and Techno is snuffling in his sleep, and Phil knows he should be doing just the same.

Is he okay?

It needles at him. Pokes and prods and works its way in through the cracks Phil keeps trying to patch up. It finds the emptiness in his sternum and it writhes there, twisting and turning and aching.

The answer is clear.

— Or, Phil feels empty, and he’s not sure if that’s a good thing or not.

---

Small Gods is back!!!

thats right!! it's back!! ive spent the last month slowly chipping away at editing wil out, replacing him with jack. it's my first time writing him, so he might be a little wonky in places, especially because he's covering up wil's lines.

there is a new chapter ready and waiting to be posted as well!! it's not out yet, but it will be in the next couple of days, when i have the time to post it properly. for now, all i've done is update the fic, and add a few new tags.

as ever, there is no upload schedule to this fic. and as ever, it isn't over until i say it's over. it may have taken me a year, but i still care about this fic so much and intend to see it through. it just might take a little more time than i first thought.

the sincerest thank you to everyone who's still here and still reading. thank you to those who have moved on, for enjoying it even in its half finished state. thank you to those who have been waiting patiently, and thank you to those who may have forgotten this even existed in the first place and are just rediscovering it. you all mean the world to me.

here's to another however many chapters of small gods!!

#philza #technoblade #emerald duo #techza #c!philza #c!techno #dsmp fanfic #fic #my fic #Small Gods

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night-market-if · 2 years ago

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omg. hi! I just discovered this miracle, your game, just five hours ago, read the first three chapters and fell in love! with your writing style (the text seems to breathe??), with the worldbuilding, with the characters (like, I haven’t been so interested in anyone for a long time, I’m ready to spend the whole weekend going through all possible paths). so please! accept my thanks for this gift! (utterly smitten)

and If you don't mind, I have a couple of questions? do you have any plans to release additional content from patreon on steam as a dlc? I want to support you, but, simply speaking, I cannot pay from my country for something that is not in my country. but there are ways to buy from steam... which can't be said about patreon, unfortunately.

and the second question: is it impossible to have a monogamous relationship with Milo? I mean, will he be in romantic relationship with Mal under any circumstances or I just misunderstude?

Hey anon!

You are coming in at a great time. The wip portion of this book is now done and I'm going to start the editing process. Binge reading will be perfect. :)

So, for your questions. I am actually working on an ebook and a physical book of all the Patreon book 1 stories. That way, for people who have no been able to join Patreon due to their countries restrictions, you should be able to buy this and read all the stories there. If I can figure it out, I will release it as a Steam add on to the game too. Just might take me a bit.

As for Milo. Milo is not a monogamous character so while you can have a relationship with him and not have one with another person, he will still have a relationship outside of you. Now, given that you haven't read the end of the book, it is 110% more complicated than that but I don't want to spoil that for you at all. Milo and Mal will always be in each others lives in some capacity, however. Though, that is far more complicated and I think a lot of people assume when I say that, you will be seeing a relationship thrown in the MC's face. Which is not the case at all. In a few months I think I can probably outline things a bit differently without a massive spoiler discussion but for now, it's kind of hard to put out on Tumblr. If you can, I would encourage you to join my discord. I am really active on there and can have a ton of conversations there that I can't really have here on Tumblr, if that makes sense.

Again, thank you so much for reading! I am so glad you have discovered this game!

🪷✨🪷✨ If you want to support me 🪷 ✨🪷✨

Demo 🌿 Patreon 🌿 Ko-fi 🌿Discord🌿Kickstarter

#the night market #asks #milo next #malcolm albright #patreon content #extra content #interactive fiction

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bitchassmcgrass · 1 month ago

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This is gonna be the last vhs post I make for a while, mostly because I get to be with my husband again soon and I can rant about this to him instead of screaming into the void (and also because school gives me no time to work on any of my projects)

Upon coming back home for the weekend, I found the old Digital Guillotine test tape from August. I do appreciate the fact that I made a test print, since it gives me another tape I can put on in the background for about four hours, but upon watching it back, there's several things I wish to change. I mostly want to take out some longer videos, such as PBG and Sequelitis, (and Fesh Pince, that seemed like a good idea at first, but it's way too long, especially compared to all the other videos), as well as switch out some text bumpers for shorter videos.

I also originally settled for YouTube reuploads of flash cartoons like Eddsworld and Homestar Runner, since that was how I mostly watched those videos growing up, but I think once I start this project again, I'm going to make my own recordings of the original swf files. I doubt the resolution will matter too much on vhs (especially recorded in extended play mode), but I think it would improve choppy looking animations, and I'd have lower risk of encountering animation errors (like in the YouTube version of Zombeh Nation, Tom is completely static when the Bathmobile is first revealed).

I'm also going to fuck with aspect ratios a bit. My usual method for converting 16:9 to 4:3 is a bit controversial (or maybe it isn't, I don't have any friends who are as autistic about aspect ratio and video production as I am) but rather than pan and scanning the image or letterboxing it, I like to just squish the video. It makes things on screen look a bit skinnier than originally intended, but I personally don't mind the look of it, and nothing gets cut out of frame. Of course, this shouldn't be a huge problem, as a lot of the videos I'm archiving are originally uploaded in 4:3. I'm also leaving some exceptions for a couple different series.

I originally stretched the Smosh videos to be 4:3, but even early Smosh videos uploaded in standard ratio were uploaded in 16:9 with letterboxing to make it widescreen. I might end up just letting that be 16:9 (as well as future videos) since these old videos are going out of their way to be presented in this format. I'm also going to be adding Red Vs. Blue to the list of videos to add to the tape. However, there's two versions of the blood gulch chronicles, the original and remastered. The first half of the original series recorded in Halo 1 uses splitscreen, so the crop is much more intense than a 16:9, more closely resembling a cinematic 2.39:1 (even tighter, actually). The normal option here would be to just use the remastered versions, but of course, I'm instead going to be using the original recordings with harsh letterboxing (and editing the start of the first few episodes to include title cards to match with the rest of the series).

Time to summarize my thoughts. It is ten minutes to 4 am, there's about 50 minutes left on the test tape, and my vcr can't play any commercial tapes without the sound being extremely blown out. I might be able to re-record the tape with this vcr, but sinc emy head cleaner didn't work, I'm most likely going to have to buy a new one for watching movies again.

Next time I get the chance to work on this, I'm going to have my crt monitor hooked up so I can get a better idea of text positioning and color correction for the bumps and videos themselves. Most importantly, once I record this tape, I'm going to remember to turn discord notifications off. Can't believe I forgot about that.

The first tape will predominantly feature Homestar Runner, Smosh, Eddsworld, Tally Hall's Internet Show, Angry Video Game Nerd, Filthy Frank, and Red Vs Blue. It will also include ASDFmovie, Tomska, Charlie the Unicorn, The Lazer Collection, Animator Vs Animation, Leo and Satan, Tankmen, and iconic YouTube Poops. If I get really desperate for content, and I mean, REALLY fucking desperate, I might include a Fred video, or the original Annoying Orange.

if you have any recommendations for this project, please let me know. Thank you for reading.

#Digital Guillotine #vhs

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comfortlesshurt · 4 months ago

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Rough month! I missed some goals for sure, but that's okay because there were literally no stakes on these. Reminding myself again that these are all intended to inspire me, not to line myself up for punishment.

The newly published word count was doable, but I don't think it was doable for ME while also drafting a major project that's not ready to be published. I added almost 40k to my projects overall, so I'm not actually too torn up about only publishing 5k.

I realize I didn't explicitly say it before, but obviously I didn't mean I want to get my published VLD word count to surpass my Spider-Man WC within this one month. That would be insane and way beyond my abilities! That's something I'm still on track to achieve in 2025.

The writing schedule worked well, but like... I didn't just stick to it, and I think that may be a problem. I wrote for three hours on three weekdays every week I wasn't traveling, and I had at least one weekend day every week where I wrote from waking up to going to bed. The problem is that I still felt like I should write on the other days, so I didn't spend a lot of time on the rest of my life. Not a big deal right now because I've got absolutely nothing else going on besides work, but I know that won't work down the line when I have other interests to fit in my free time.

Failed the bonus achievement, but it was also a longshot! I started the month at 244k hits on AO3 and I'm ending it around 247k. But now there's a good chance I'll get to celebrate my quarter of a million hits something in September.

Augusnippets went perfectly! I posted all 15 snippets and have yet to get any feedback that makes me feel like I need to change any aspect of the future fic for it.

Totally failed bingo! I got a prompt I really liked for it, but I just haven't been able to focus on it yet! I'm hoping to get the right motivation to bang it out in September.

40k in 42 days is ongoing until 9/14, but I'm definitely on track to finish early. I'm over 38k as of now, and the daily par for the LTS(LTFH) series alone adds up to like 900 words a day with the publish dates I'm aiming for. No real worries about this goal.

On the note of LTS(LTFH), my only fail was outlining fic 1. I've got the major points down, but I feel like I'm missing more things I want to include and haven't gotten around to actually figuring those out for the outline. This is a big priority still because the lackluster outline is starting to affect how easy it is to hit my daily par on this fic.

I hit 35% of the 100k goal for fic 1, so I'm still thinking I can get to 100% by the end of November. I hit 30% of the 50k for fic 2, which is well ahead of schedule; I'm expecting to have fic 2 edited and ready to start posting by summer 2025. I mainly focused on those two stories, but I did add a fair bit to fic 3 and a couple of the short side stories for the series as well.

I will not be doing any challenges in September, and I have an ordered list ready to start working through for editing in September. LTS(LTFH) will still be the priority, so I'm not going to worry too much about editing all 62 of my fics in September. If there are more left at the end of the month, I'll work through them in October. I did cheat and knock one fic out this month.

For long-term goals, I'm still considering Whumptober, but it'll push back all my LTS(LTFH) goals by an extra month, which is a little sad. At the same time, I think it might be helpful to focus on different works for a month. Regardless, this is another event where I won't be aiming to complete every day--just my favorite prompts.

I'm taking a couple days off to enjoy the three-day weekend, but I'll be back to writing early next week! I'm expecting to do the statistics update on Monday.

August 2024 Plans!

Hello again, and I am sorry to tell most of you, I am still only obsessed with Voltron. That being said, here are my plans for Keith for this month.

General Goals:

Newly published word count: 5,071/10,000

Have total VLD published WC surpass Spider-Man: 48,364/100,258 (I'm not calling this a failed goal! I never planned to publish 50k+ in a single month, to be clear. This is a long-term goal that I'm hoping to hit in 2025.)

Test new weekly writing schedule: my choice of any three weekdays from 6pm to 9pm and any one weekend day from waking up to going to bed (with short breaks as needed). Possible exceptions on the weekend hours during any pre-planned social events because I'm too good at isolating myself already. Schedule TBD during work travel but will be much less for those times unless I can get comfy writing in-flight lmao.

Bonus uncontrollable achievement for funsies: 250k total hits on AO3 (starting the month around 244k)

Augusnippets:

All are drafted because I overachieved last month

Publish 15 total snippets

Posting out of order because all my fills take place in one series, and it was more important to me to get the series order right than the challenge order

Currently working on c*mm*ssioning art for this story!

Bingo prompts:

Finish and publish at least one more bingo prompt this month (I'm open to requests for Keith!)

One request received! (Working on outlining it and expecting to draft and publish this month)

40k in 42 Days:

Drafted word count (not necessarily published like the goal in general goals)

Start 8/4

Complete by 9/14 (On track to achieve this one!)

Probably major focus on LTS(LTFH), but I'm counting all drafted words during this time period

(My Write Club linked above! Feel free to friend if you're participating in this or if you use it at all.)

LTS(LTFH):

Cleaned these goals up a little mid-month!

Finish full outline for fic 1

Continue drafting fic 1: 35% of 100k goal

Draft what I know of fic 2: 30% of 50k goal (with focus on events surrounding Augusnippets fills until I finish final fic 1 details)

Draft fic 0 (<5k prequel to provide background on a certain event)

Continue fine outlining fics 2 through 4 as new plot points are decided in fic 1

Incorporate feedback from Augusnippets for characterization/events

Refine expected publish date at end of August (starting August expecting fic 1 to be drafted and edited for continuity errors by end of December 2024; expecting to complete technical editing chapter by chapter to start a weekly posting schedule in January 2025)

Prep for next month:

Resist the urge to take on any September writing challenges

Filter through my published list and rank works by how much they need a solid round of editing (I'm hoping to edit everything next month, but I'll be prioritizing in case I can't get through it all.)

Longer term:

I don't know where I'll be in six months, obviously. These are loose plans, subject to adjustment.

August 2024 - LTS(LTFH) focus

September 2024 - edit existing works & draft LTS(LTFH)

October 2024 - possibly Whumptober (possibly LTS(LTFH) instead)

November 2024 - NaNoWriMo (I'm now 90% sure I'll be focusing on the third chapter fic in LTS(LTFH) for this project)

December 2024 - back to editing, focusing on unpublished works

January 2025 - begin publishing fic 1 of the big series; continue drafting fic 2

#month goals

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dekusheroacademia · 2 years ago

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Twitter drama, fandom history: what happened with mha362 and the reddit situation - part 1

I decided to annotate a bit of fandom history. In particular, the whole twitter drama that happened these past weeks, mainly the past week, around mha362: Vocal Pineapple, the reddit post, the fights etc.. I will have some screenshots, but the rest is from memory, while it is still fresh.

On twitter I follow mainly Todobaku, Bakudeku and Izuocha accounts, plus some general BNHA accounts. So my information come from them, and I might have missed other shippers accounts or events, so please, keep that in mind.

I just want to specify that many people who are Bakugou haters/dislike Bakugou were absolutely normal people, NICE people, just the usual anime fans. Rejoying or not, they never went into people's profiles to pick at fans or started to throw bait tweets around.

Regarding what happened, it mainly started with this:

A lot of people, I am sure, were talking about ships and characters and the chapter itself, but Vocal Pineapple (anime youtuber) was probably the biggest twitter user to do so. VP also, previouly, specifically wrote tweet for Bakudeku fans (telling them that he understands the ship) to get more followers, as there are a lot of Bakudekus so... having them as followers is quite beneficial.

It is just a tweet, but because of how popular VP is, it kinda let to many other twitter users less kind than VP to start insulting shippers.

EDIT: I wanted to add that VP was already tweeting with Bkdk shippers before the chapter was dropped, so the reason for this tweet was probably in reply to the fact that he had misinterpreted a post being about Izuocha. The tweet in question was a pro-Kiribaku one about Deku being a stalker (? my memory is foggy). A bkdk fan talked about how at least bkdk had canon moment, and people thought they were attacking Izuocha. VP tweeted/retweeted about it and was in a "tweet discourse" with bkdk fans. So some kind of ship exchange. This might be why he decided to phrase this leaks tweet this way, because he was fighting with bkdk fans.

Again, my memory of the kiribaku tweet is foggy, so take it with a grain of salt. Also I only saw people talking about it after.

The chapter was extra dramatic, throwing everyone in shamble. A free for all. And MHA was trending like nothing before:

The rest was an immediate mess, where people were retweeting him, replying to him, etc. Any reply that would disagree with him would immediately end up with being dogpiled by his followers.

VP was not the only one. A lot of people were posting pictures of "Bakugou's last moments" in reply to Bkdk's users or Bakugou's fans tweets. Plus random people made videos:

People posting Bakugou related ships on unmoderated subreddits (this is from Kamijirou) would receive tons of anti-comments: (this was for a Kiribaku ship in a trio of Izuocha, Kiribaku, Kamijirou, posted on the Kamijirou subreddit)

Random homophobia, random no-spoilers.

DEATH THREATS AND SIMILAR

Then this happened:

Two users (both under 16 or 17 years old) made these retweets of Vocal Pineapple, basically asking for his death. I do not know if anyone reprimanded them (hopefully they did), because these are absolutely wrong and distasteful, and basically equating to death threats/wishes on him.

So death threats were sent to VP (maybe as messages too, I am not sure!). I tried to ask for all of the accounts, as I believe in making sure my part of the fandom acts correctly, but the only ones I have received (not by VP but another user) were those two, who are both minors.

(By the way, VP user name will change a lot, mainly because he kept changing it every couple of hours to taunt Bakugou's death or Bkdks, but if you see a pineapple that is him).

Given that he received these threats, Pineapple thought it would be great to retweet this:

Where he rejoyced about the chance of people being suicidal.

People came in to defend this retweet. Their main argumentations were more suicide jokes, trolling or this attempt at "being considerate": That tweet is okay, but actually tweeting stuff like "If Bakugou dies I die/I will commit suicide" is wrong because it minimizes issues and makes a mockery of suicide.

This user thought he knew that every person joking has absolutely no actual diagnosis, they are just "mocking suicide".

These were the "so many posts"

And this was their reasoning for defending why it was okay to retweet or tweet about "Cheering for suicide of other people".

Except that when I showed them the opposite, the people asking for death if other characters would die, I only received silence.

In general, people (bkdks and Bakugous fans) were posting very dramatic reactions (as expected from the death of a character so popular) which were being hijacked or screenshotted by antis, for the purpose of mocking. Some anties even just left pictures of dead Bakugou under bkdk fans, for the hell of it.

Here's an example:

And random people commenting on tweets specifically for and by bakudeku fans:

Some people added random comments, trying to gaslight bkdk fans about Bakugou having the card, without even looking at the panels:

2. MISGENDERING

The other big mess was the recording. Someone had recorded one of those twitter spaces vocal/audio chats. Another user (JayKnY) decided to share one of these recordings which had users finding out about mha362 and crying (I did not want to listen to it, but from the mocking, this was what was happening):

Sadly, not all those people were adults. V. Pineapple retweeted the recording and the mockery, but deleted the retweets after finding out that there had been some minors in the audio.

A lot of people retweeted the video, and many misgendered one of the recorded people. It was really a shitshow of transphobia. With zero empathy:

Here is an Izuocha user concerned because of the misgendering and the way people were mocking the audio:

Another user, was also misgendered directly by Vocal Pineapple, which later wrote about it, here:

Except that they did never apologize neither took down the misgender-retweet. The misgendering did feel like a mistake (VP called the user "sis", I believe as an accident as VP has never been transphobic or homophobic before, and had even left messages for his fans to not use his words or tweets as excused to be homophobic and transphobic, as seen here:

)

but sadly it brought a lot of transphobia and hate to the insulted user. Still VP deleted the tweet after (?) some time, but here I am not sure when.

Other people noticed the fandom state, as seen here in this reddit comment:

Here is some more vitriol:

Now.. the reddit situation, PART 2 HERE

#fandom drama #mha 362 #bkdk #antis #meta

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rapsgoddess · 3 years ago

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Washing Machine Heart Part 1. (Erik Killmonger x OC)

This is unedited so please have mercy on me in the notes 😭

Nahla knew she didn’t mean a thing to him. Next to being a mercenary, Erik was a player. He came and went as he pleased, spent his nights with more than one woman, and didn’t feel a single shred of regret whenever his girls would pour out their hearts to him.

Nahla knew she didn’t mean a single thing to him, yet she still somehow fell in love.

It was a painful realization. One that she came to during one of Erik’s many long term absences. It was another sleepless night for her and she was sitting in bed with her laptop open to her right and her keyboard directly in front of her. For the past week, the same melody had been on loop inside her head. A broken tune that conveyed so much sorrow that it nearly brought her to tears whenever she hummed it. Each day after she got home from work, she would add onto the melody bit by bit, putting in different instruments and sounds to create a beautiful symphony.

When it came time to write lyrics for the song, all she could envision was a tune about unrequited love. The same unrequited love that she had been feeling for a while.

It wasn’t until she put a name to that feeling when she finally realized how she truly felt about Erik.

She decided to try and keep things suppressed for a while, hoping that her childish feelings of romance would disappear after a few days.

They didn’t.

When Erik returned a few weeks later, she didn’t, know how to act. The man made it known that he was not committed to anybody, and Nahla was no exception. On the rare occasion Nahla would catch a glimpse of him on social media, she would see him surrounded by women who looked as if they could be models. Women who were leagues ahead of her. The photos never failed to resurrect her insecurities. They made her question why Erik even bothered to give her the time of day. Yet those insecurities melted away whenever he came to visit her.

Flash forward to the present, and Nahla found herself laying next to Erik’s naked frame in her bed. The faint sound of her washing machine echoed throughout the house, giving a sort of rhythmic banging as her shoes tussled around inside. The night was still fairly young, having only been a few minutes past seven, but all of the plans that Nahla had for that evening were discarded the moment Erik showed up on her doorstep.

It didn’t take much for his words to lull her into bed and for his lips on hers to enrapture her. His low, smooth voice was like music to her ears, and her moans being music to his. Each praise that left his lips was like a toxic lullaby. Nahla knew that he had repeated the same words to dozens of women in the past, yet in the moment, they made her feel as if she were the only woman in the world.

“You feel so good around me baby…��

“You don’t know how much I missed this pussy.”

“Say my name so everybody know who’s fuckin’ you right.”

Thinking back to his words sent shivers down her spine. She was wide awake, restless and too excited to fall asleep. It was rare for Erik to stay after having sex, let alone fall asleep before her, but her inner turmoil prevented her from falling asleep.

She turned back to look over at Erik, taking in every aspect of his being as if it were the last time she would see him again. No matter how many times she laid eyes on him, she would never be able to find the words to describe how beautiful he was. He had a smile that could light up a room and warm eyes that made her heart flutter each time she looked into them. It often left her wondering why exactly he even entertained the thought of her when he was way out of her league.

A heavy sigh left Nahla’s lips and she threw the covers off the lower half of her body. She looked back at Erik one last time while putting on her robe, making sure that he stayed asleep. Slowly and quietly, she crept out of the room and down the hall to her makeshift studio, closing the door behind her and turning on the lights. She used her studio as an escape from both the real world and her own mind, and right then she needed an escape from both. Turning on her equipment and opening up her laptop, she opened up the file that held her latest project. The one that helped her come to her realization in the first place. She made sure the speakers were low as to not wake Erik up and pressed play, listening to her voice blend with the gentle melody.

She had only written a few lines so far and could feel the next verse just on the tip of her tongue, but lyricism had never really been her strong suit. Muttering random words under her breath, she opened up the notes section on GarageBand and began writing down whatever sounded nice, replacing and adding words where she deemed fit.

“Might as well give it a go,” she sighed, getting up from her chair and walking over to the small corner where her mic and the rest of her recording equipment was set up. She pressed record on an empty track and began singing the second verse, her voice coming out soft and almost broken in contrast to her usual strong, belty tone. She was tired, both physically and emotionally, but she couldn’t walk back to that room. Not with him still laying asleep in her bed as if the two of them were a couple.

After a few more takes, she had finally gotten her voice warmed up enough to where it didn’t sound completely like shit and she walked over to her work station to edit the track on top the music.

With her mind now completely engulfed in her music, she didn’t noticed the sound of her toilet flushing or her bathroom sink running down the hall. She didn’t notice the sound of footsteps leading to her studio and her door opening slightly.

It wasn’t until the feeling of a hand snaking its way around her neck drew her from her work as she jumped in her seat while clutching her chest in panic.

“Whatchu scared for? It’s just me,” Erik muttered, his voice still laced with drowsiness. “What are you doing up? Any other day you’d be knocked out.” His fingers gently squeezed at her neck and he leaned down to plant a kiss on the top of her head. It was weirdly intimate of him.

“I couldn’t sleep so I decided to work on something.” Nahla spun her seat around to face him. He had on a pair of low hanging shorts. She recognized them as being one of the pairs she bought for him whenever he decided to stay over. She mentally scoffed at the thought; buying clothes for a man who she wasn’t even in a relationship with.

“You’re not leaving?” She asked. It had just dawned on her that, miraculously, Erik was still there.

“Nah. I haven’t seen you in a while so I figured I’d stay for a little bit.”

The sentiment made her heart flutter but she quickly grounded herself back to reality. She couldn’t afford to get her hopes up.

“So, what are you working on?” He asked, his arms folded across his chest as he looked past her and at the open editing software on her computer.

“Oh. Well I had a melody that was stuck in my head for a while so I put it down and write lyrics. I lowkey wanna find a mini orchestra to record it though.”

“Well can I hear it?” He suggested.

Nahla’s eyes widened and her heart skipped a beat. Despite knowing each other for the better part of two years now, this was the most he had ever expressed genuine interest in her music.

“U-Uhh, I’m not sure… I get really sensitive about my stuff. Plus it’s not what you’d expect it to be,” she said, swirling her chair back around to face her work station as she hesitantly placed her hand on the mouse and moved the cursor over the “play” button. After taking a deep breath, she played the song and closed her eyes as she waited for it to be over. Throughout the entirety of what little she had to play, Erik was silent, giving no response, comment, or critiques. When it was over, she reluctantly turned around to face him.

“So? What do you think?”

“Yeah, I can definitely hear an orchestra going behind that. Maybe start off with piano first, then bring in strings or some shit during the hook,” he suggested, walking over to the other chair in the corner of her studio and sitting down.

“Okay. Thanks.”

For about an hour or two, the two of them stayed up in her studio talking about random things while sharing a blunt together. They eventually migrated back to the bedroom and made their way beneath the covers together, Nahla’s body molding perfectly into Erik’s as they cuddled.

“Nah, I’m deadass. I thought I had locked his cage, but he always finds a way to get out,” Nahla giggled, referring to her pet chameleon who always managed to get out of his cage. “I remember a few day ago I had just woken up and went into the kitchen to get some juice and I see him inside the sink just sitting there. Then he have the nerve to look up at me like ‘what are you doing here?’ No sir, what are you doing here.”

Erik laughed softly while shaking his head. “Nah, I don’t think I could handle an animal just freely roaming my shit like that.”

“You get used to it after a while. I was low-key thinking about getting a snake too, but I gotta figure out where to put the tank.”

“Oh hell nah. If you get a snake, I’m not coming by anymore.”

“What?! You used to be a whole Navy Seal and you’re scared of snakes, E?” She asked, a bit surprised that he even shared that information with her.

“Girl, I don’t know how you can even stand them things,” he mumbled, “slithering around and shit. What if it gets out when you’re sleep and starts choking you?”

“Then we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it,” she giggled, earning an eye roll from Erik.

Though it didn’t seem possible, she pressed herself against Erik even harder, somehow managing to get even closer to him. Resting her head in the crook of his neck, she had a perfect view of the many scars and keloids that littered his body. She could tell some of them are new. Whether or not they were accidental or self inflicted, she didn’t want to know.

It was times like these where Nahla wished that her outlandish fantasies of romance weren’t fantasies at all. Having never been in a real relationship before, she constantly longed to be loved by someone in a romantic sense. Though she knew that Erik probably never thought of her as more than a fuck buddy, it was nice to feel his warmth underneath her. Even if it was an illusion, it was nice to imagine him as her lover while he was holding her close.

“What’s on your mind?” He pried, letting out a deep sigh before closing his eyes and relaxing his muscles.

“Where do you go when you disappear?” She partially lied. Even though that wasn’t what truly was on her mind, it was still a question that lingered over her head for a while.

“That, I can’t tell you ma. At least not right now.”

She wasn’t satisfied with how curt his reply was. Sitting up, she supported her head with her hand, her elbow buried into the pillow beside his head as she peered down at him.

“You can tell me,” she pried. A childish grin spread across her face. “If it’s something illegal I promise I won’t tell.”

Erik peaked one up up at her, a smile of his own taking over his featured. He pushed his hands behind his head and stared up at the ceiling. “Mm… Maybe I could tell you a little bit. I don’t even know where to begin though without you thinkin’ I’m crazy.”

“I won’t think you’re crazy.”

“You say that now.” There was a pregnant pause, and then, in the most serious tone ever, he said, “I’m apart of African royalty.”

“So there’s this country in Africa called Wakanda. At first glance, it seems like a small lil third world country, but in reality, they’re the most advanced civilization on the planet. They got this metal called Vibranium that allows them to all sorts of things, but they keep it hidden from the rest of the world.”

“How? And if they kept it hidden from the world, then how do you know about it?”

“They have a dome that surrounds the entire country. It’s practically impenetrable. And the only reason I know is because my father was the prince. He was sent here on an undercover mission in America but quickly saw how shitty thing were here, so he wanted to change it. “

“Wait, your father is the prince of an African country?” Nahla couldn’t believe her ears. Despite being secretive and mysterious, she knew that Erik wasn’t one to lie. After all, what could he possibly gain from lying about something as far fetched as this?

“Was. He was killed before he could enact any change; by his own brother no less.”

She could hear a pain and vulnerability in his voice that she’d never heard before. Now she definitely knew that he wasn’t lying.

Erik’s face had turned to the side in a fruitless attempt to hide the tears that welled up in his eyes. He’d never brought up his family or much of his life before he met her in a conversation, and now she could see why.

Hesitantly, Nahla reached up to wipe away the tears that left his eyes. “So you plan on going back and getting revenge?” She pondered. It would make sense why he’d want to stay under the radar, having no social media accounts, no permanent phone number, and constantly disappearing for months at a time. If he wanted to infiltrate an entire hidden country, then he’d have to be the closest thing to a ghost a person could be.

“It’s on the list,” he replied, sitting up in bed while resting back against the headboard. “But, my main goal is to change the world. Wakanda has technology and weapons that people can’t even begin fathom. If our people were able to get their hands on that kind of fire power, we wouldn’t have to worry about the White man oppressing us any longer.”

The sadness that was once present in his eyes had long disappeared, instead being replaced with a burning passion. It filled her with joy to see him get passionate about something, but it also put her on edge. Nahla knew what his plan implied, and she didn’t put it past him to sacrifice countless lives in order to see his vision come to life.

Staying silent, she simply nodded, too afraid that she’d say the wrong thing if she opened her mouth. Tearing her gaze away from the man, she began contemplating on everything she had been thinking about prior to his arrival. Her feelings for him were still unwavering, but now she was starting to ponder on whether or not being with him was a wise decision. It didn’t take being a genius to know that Erik’s path was a set one. He was a determined, goal-driven man, and when his mind was made up, there was no convincing him to go back on his decision.

If she followed him down that path, she wouldn’t be able to turn back.

“Do I scare you?”

Nahla looked back up only to be met with obsidian eyes boring straight into her deep brown ones. His question threw her for a loop, no doubt, considering how Erik was never one to be considerate of other people’s feelings.

“H-Huh? What do you mean?” She knew exactly what he meant.

“That look in your eyes… You’re scared of something. What is it?” He demanded in an eerily calm manner.

Attempting to spare his feelings would be a futile decision; Erik read people like his favorite novel. Yet, for some reason, Nahla had no control over the words that left her mouth.

She almost never did when she was around him.

“Nothing. I just get a bit spooked in the dark,” she chuckled.

Erik simply blinked at her, a look of uncertainty and doubt dancing around in his eye before he shrugged it off and laid back down in the bed, facing her completely.

“You should get some rest. Goodnight,” he said softly, his eyes never leaving her.

Upon hearing his words, Nahla felt an immense tiredness wash over her as if he casted a sleeping spell over her. She glanced over at the clock and noticed how it was nearly 4 AM. She had only three hours before she needed to get up and get ready for work.

She was tired, but fear kept plaguing her mind. A fear that he wouldn’t be there when she woke up. Or, even worse, a fear that she had dreamt the entire night.

“Don’t worry. I’ll be here when you wake up,” he whispered.

Nahla wanted to believe him, so she did, closing her eyes and drifting off to sleep.

#erik killmonger #erik killmonger x reader #erik killmonger x oc #black panther #mcu fanfiction

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deardragonbook · 3 years ago

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Studying, working, living and writing

I don’t know who said it, but I’ll always remember this quote:

If you are truly passionate about writing, you’ll make the time, you’ll find the time.

Now that I think about it, perhaps it never said writing. Perhaps it was anything. That’d still make sense.

But for me it’s writing. Writing is the thing I need to make time for in between classes, in the morning before rushing out and in the late hours of the night while I should be sleeping.

I’m one of those boring, responsible adults who will always tell you to stay in school, stick to your job and keep your hobbies to your spare time until you can truly afford to do otherwise.

I know there’s a lot of stories out there, a lot of people saying things, about how they quit their job to pursue their passion and it all worked out! But are they telling you the fully story? What are their savings like? Who’s house are they living in? Do they have a significant other with a stable job?

You need to be very cautious about these stories.

If you want to find time for writing, you need to evaluate your current situation, realistically and without the rose-tinted glasses. And you need to be willing to have less free time for other activities.

And it’s not always going to be possible.

These articles that I do on Tumblr, they’re part of my writing. I enjoy writing these, I enjoy editing them and publishing them. And I try to have one daily. It’s been a couple of days, and it’s the fifth time I sit down to write only a couple of paragraphs before running off to do another activity.

I’m experienced with the work-school-being physically ill-social life and hobby balance. Experience, not good at. If I were good at it, I wouldn’t keep taking on projects like my life depended on it. But hey, what can I say? I’m a bit of an over achiever.

So, here’s what I do, to somehow get good grades in school, stay up to date with work, not die of hunger, keep up with most social medias and write books:

1.- Have a schedule. Not necessarily follow one. Sometimes I feel like I have zero free time. There are days that I am on campus from 8 in the morning until 10 at night. Not counting travel time. But, if I take a glance at my schedule, I realise there’s time there. There is time in between these two classes, there’s a larger than usual lunch break. And I try to be conscious of where these gaps are, and which ones are useful and which ones are “watch some TikTok to destres” ones.

Don’t be too strict. Understand that some days you are going to be more burnt out than others, and expecting to be productive during every single bit of free time is anything but realistic. Writing isn’t a break. Watching mindless television or playing animal crossing is. And there’s nothing wrong with doing the latter at times.

2.- Be conscious of how much time a task takes. So writing for example, I can easily take two minutes and write two paragraphs. Any amount of time, if I feel up to it, is writing time. Because of this, I always have word open in the background with the story I’m working on. That way, I just have to change tab and start typing if I get a couple of minutes. Every little bit adds up.

Other tasks however, require a bit more time. For example, to write this tumblr post I might take, ten to fifteen minutes (I’m editing, it’s actually taking more like an hour and a half, not sure why). And tumblr (on my ipad where I work during the day at school) will delete my post if I change tabs. So two minutes when I’ve finished an exercise and have to wait for the rest to finish is not tumblr time. Because if the teacher starts talking and I change tab, that’s work that I’ve lost.

I do the same with reading depending on the genre. Poetry can be read in very small bits and pieces, while more story driven books need a little more time available. I also listen to a lot of audiobooks on my way to and from school so as to not waste commute time.

3.- Have several projects on the go. Especially if you’re working on something that’s heavy and requires a lot of research. Having other lighter or less important projects means that, even if you don’t have time to work on the big project, you’re still being productive, practising and most importantly, writing. This can be a completely different story, essays, AUs, prequels or even things like Tumblr Posts (yeah, I know, lots of tumblr posts).

4.- Use a notebook sometimes. If like me you spend twelve hours a day in front of a screen due to work and studies, that small change can do a lot for your mental health. I know it can be more work later on because you will have to re-write it, but that’s not too bad for early drafts or things like world-building.

5.- Write and edit at different times. If I sit down and just write, write, write. I can write quite a lot and quite quick. Same goes for sitting down and just editing a bunch. But if I try to vary, to switch up (like I’m doing at this very moment, maybe that’s why it’s taking an hour and a half), I’m going to be going slow.

This might be different for you. I know everyone works differently, but I certainly find working continuously far more productive.

And those are my five tips. I know they aren’t amazing magical solve-all life hacks. But honestly, I think the most important thing is to just not quit. If life is overwhelming and you don’t write anything in several months, heck, a year, it’s fine! Just pick up where you left off when you have time. Don’t start over!

I definitely had some long hiatuses while writing my book. I also had lot of sprints, writing full drafts in a week because I finally had some free time and I was going to use it!

It’s one step at a time, one day at a time, one word at a time.

That’s how you do it.

As usual, check out my book, stories I’ve written plus other social medias: here.

Also, I’m trying to do NaNoWriMo this year (because like I said before, just keep taking on projects as if my life depended on it) and would love more writing friends!

What’s your current project? And do you have the time for it? How do you make time?

And does anybody read this short paragraphs I throw in after the self-promotion link? I don’t why I have the habit of doing them, I don’t think anybody has ever answered, althoughI kind of like to think people are answering in there heads and self-reflecting, is that weird? I’m not sure anymore. It’s past midnight, I should probably be sleeping. But I mean that’s the last secret tip I don’t recommend, you’ve got eight hour a day you waste sleeping, that’s a lot of writing and a lot of tumblr posts. Again. Don’t recommend.

#writers on tumblr #writing #writer #writing advice #how I write #how I find time to write #time management #author #indie author #indieauthor #indie authors #how to write #writing tip #writing tips #writing trick #writing tricks

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owlishintergalactic · 3 years ago

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The Deadline is Approaching, But It's Not Too Late

On December 31st, submissions for Duck Prints Press' third and fourth anthologies will close, but there's still room for fanfic writers who are interested in writing queer, original stories. I know some of you out there might be nervous—I know I was when I applied for the first anthology, Add Magic to Taste. While it wasn't my first publishing credit, it was my first paid story, and I am well aware of brain weasels that whisper, "You're not good enough." I almost self-selected out, but I didn't, and the experience was something amazing and hard to describe.

I don't want anyone to miss out on an opportunity to get their stories out into the world, so I thought it might help to both offer some advice on picking and polishing a piece last minute, and link you to the story that earned me a place in the anthology—imperfections included. A quick disclaimer here: I am an editor and a judge, but this piece is based on my experiences as a writer. This isn't an official Duck Prints Press post, just my personal opinions and advice as someone who has gone through the process herself and the things I kept in mind when I created my writing sample.

For my entry, I composed an entirely new short story in two, very long, stressful, and obsessive days. You don't have to do that if your muse isn't the sort to pop out 1-2k words in 48 hours. Since we're down to the wire here, why not start with your backlog of previously written stories? I wasn't satisfied with my fics because I'd gone on hiatus for a couple of years, but many of you are writing fics right now! Duck Prints Press is for fanfic writers, and most of us authors have a decent selection of published and unpublished stories to choose from on our hard drives and Ao3 accounts. Take a look at your stories, you may already have a sample you're proud of. What you are looking for is a good example of your writing that has a plot, well developed characters, a setting with enough detail the judges can imagine it, and something that can be made fandom-blind friendly. If you do decide to quickly create a new sample, like I did, a lot of this will still apply.

What to look for? Find yourself a story that's within 1 to 2k words, or slightly over if you're willing to whittle something down. If you aren't a short story writer, take a look at your longfics. Often, scenes and chapters can act like self-enclosed stories and with a bit of editing can serve as a perfect sample. For example, you might have a scene where a character is nervous about throwing another character a birthday party and that nervousness/tension is resolved within the >2k scene. In the midst of your larger story, you've told us a smaller story! It's perfect. During this process, you will want to make sure you're picking out a story with a plot and not a vignette. Looking at the birthday party example above, a vignette would be Character A's observations of the party he has thrown for Character B. He might wax poetically how he loves the man, and how pleased he is Character B is enjoying himself. The same is a story if Character A is a little bit in love with Character B and is nervous about giving her a perfect birthday party. The party ensues, shenanigans happen (or don't happen), and their relationship grows stronger because of it. I think of it like this: a vignette is like a photograph in written form, while a story is a moving picture.

Now to Edit. It'd be amazing to find the perfect piece right off the bat, but most of us don't have something that fits in every way. Even if you did, you'd want to go over it at least once more for spelling and grammar. So here is some things to look for in your pre-existing piece. You can find the rubric here to help guide you more, but don't let perfect be the enemy of opportunity. Everyone makes mistakes sometimes and the judges are also writers.

As I noted above, go over spelling and grammar to the best of your abilities. Editors can do a lot, but it helps to show you have a decent grasp of mechanics. If you are lucky enough to have someone who can beta you at the last minute, send it on over for a second check. Send in your best effort and let your words shine.

Read the piece as if you have no knowledge of your fandom, or if you can, have someone with no knowledge go through and see if anything trips them up. Making something fandom-blind friendly can be as simple as explaining fandom specific terms and adding brief descriptions for characters.

Check to make sure you have all the elements of writing in your selection: description, dialogue, exposition, action, and inner monologue. Your characters should exist in an environment they interact with, they should have thoughts and feelings (a unique voice), their conversation should flow, and their bodies should do something while they're talking. Like grammar and spelling, these are important writing mechanics. Not every scene needs all of these things, but it's important to show you can do all of these things.

Trim if you need to. Unforth, the founder of the press, has written a post on editing an over-length story down to size.

Check to see if anything needs to be tagged.

Now check out this post on how to write a pitch for the story you want to write for the anthology.

Most importantly, be confident. You write better than you give yourself credit for. I know you do. We are our own worst critics and what we see in ourselves isn't what everyone else sees. In the words of Shia LaBeouff: Just Do It. This is your chance to shine, and you can shine! Even if you don't make it your first try, the feedback you receive could help you grow so you can make another attempt. You rock, and you are worth taking the risk. (If anyone is curious, this is the story I used as a sample. It's posted on Royal Road: Will You Go)

#call for submissions #writers of tumblr #writing #writing advice #writing blog #fanfiction writer #my writing #duck prints press #original fiction #fanfiction #writing sample #writing opportunity #queer fiction #queer writers #wlw fiction #mlm fiction #masquerades

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griavian · 3 years ago

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the 36 questions that lead to love

x <- read on ao3

dream finds a list of questions that can supposedly lead to two people falling in love, so him and george try it out on stream. turns out, they don't really need all 36.

“Come on, George. It’s just a couple of questions.” Dream pleaded into the call, making George roll his eyes. He’s been trying to end stream for the past 15 minutes, but Dream always convinces him to go “just a little longer!”.

“36 questions is not just a couple of questions, Dream.” George glances at his second monitor to make sure his green screen was still black and to check a few discord messages. He had no intention to fall into Dream’s trap for another hour of streaming.

“But it says it’ll lead to love!” Dream says, exasperated. He googled ‘questions to ask your friend’ earlier and found a list of them that apparently lead to falling in love. To George, it was bullshit.

“That’s such bullshit.” He expresses.

“You’re no fun.” Dream’s voice lowered, and George can feel the pout Dream has plastered on his face. He can already predict what the next 12 hours would be like with Dream: silent treatment and being a general dickhead. George was used to it when they lived an ocean apart, and even found it amusing, but it was a totally different experience living with him. Dream would mope around, go into George’s room randomly just to not talk to him, and go as far as to blast sad music from his own room across the hall while George was trying to finish up some editing. Sure, it was all light-hearted jokes, and Dream would stop his act in a heartbeat if George was truly annoyed by it, but George still dreaded it.

“Fine.”

Dream immediately cheers up and starts typing on his keyboard while George watches his chat fly by, seeing a lot of emotes and positive messages.

“Okay, um- first question. Given the choice of anyone in the world, whom,” Dream mocks the formality, “would you want as a dinner guest?”

George’s nose crinkles. “How is that gonna make me fall in love with you?”

“Just answer the question.”

“I don’t know! The queen?”

“That’s a stupid answer.”

“What!” George screeches and Dream barks out a laugh. “You’re so dumb.”

“You gotta give me a better answer than that, or else we won’t fall in love with each other.”

George rolls his eyes, but decides to think about his answer. Truthfully, he wouldn’t want anyone special as a dinner guest. “Um. My mum.”

George eyes his chat as it’s filled with “aw”s. He almost scoffs.

“See? That wasn’t so hard.” George wants to punt Dream into another universe.

“Alright, who would you want as a guest?”

“Tom Brady.”

“That’s the stupidest answer ever!” George yells, his eyes wide, perhaps offended that Dream picked Tom Brady out of anyone else in the world.

“Question two!” Dream ignores, “This one is kinda dumb, but would you like to be famous and if you do, what for?”

George hums. “Probably don’t want to be famous-famous. Maybe being well-known for being the first person to invent IRL-VR. I want my body to be submerged in the Minecraft universe.”

“That’s sick. I dunno what I’d want-”

“You’re already famous.”

“Shut up. I don’t even- I don’t even want to be famous, really. I just want to make whoever knows me smile.”

“Aww, isn’t that sweet, Dream.” George teases and he knows Dream waved him off. George has his habits practically memorized.

“Whatever. How about you ask some questions?” Dream sends a link on discord and George reads through them.

“There’s no way these can make people fall in love. What even is this question? Before making a telephone call, do you rehearse what you’re going to say and why?”

“Trust the process. I mean, I do that. I don’t want my brain all jumbled up, I guess. Words are hard.” Dream answers.

“I don’t think I’ve ever done that. I wing it.”

“That’s very you. Next question.” Something about Dream saying that made George smile the tiniest bit, made the serotonin flow through his brain.

“What’s a ‘perfect day’ for you?” George reads. It’s quiet for a moment.

“Hanging out with you,” his voice is sincere, “You and Sapnap. Recording, streaming, anything like that. What about you?”

“Hm. Me too.”

George isn’t one to show his feelings often. He remembers being asked if he did, and he answered with “not ones that matter”. It still rings true to this day. His walls are still built up and that’s okay to George. Mushy feelings aren’t important, but he’d be damned if he didn’t say his heartstrings were playing a beautiful melody during this moment.

The questions and answers fall easily after that. George knows it’s around 1 am, and he should go to sleep, but answering the questions was kind of addicting.

“Do you have a hunch on how you’ll die?” Dream reads the question with a chuckle. “That’s such a weird question to ask someone you wanna fall in love with.”

George tries not to read in between the lines.

“Heart failure. For both of us.”

“You know how I’ll die?”

“We’re Minecraft streamers, Dream. We’ll probably die at 40.” They share jokes and giggles of scenarios where they die and what they’d do, and something about it feels a bit too honest.

“I’ll die the day you die, George. Emotionally and physically.” Dream says, dramatic as ever. George only huffs, and they leave it there.

“Name three things you and your partner have in common. Dream, do you have a secret girlfriend?” They start to bicker back and forth, because of course they do.

“It doesn’t mean romantic partner, you dumbass. Like- it’s like a science partner,” Dream sighs, “Well, we do have a lot in common. We have the same job, we care about the same things, and we love each other! Easy.” Dream answers.

“Who said I loved you?”

“You literally did last night.” George had closed chat a while ago, already prepared for what was to come. He can only imagine what they’re saying.

“They’ll never believe you.” George says with a sadistic grin.

“Ugh. Okay, what are you grateful for in life? You have to answer this.” George can hear Dream get a little closer to his mic, almost anticipating George’s answer. Dream knows how much he doesn’t like to express any feelings, and probably expects him to skip the question overall. George prevails.

“You. Obviously,” and before Dream can get out an aww, George says, “You made my career, dummy, and I’m grateful for that. And my friends, family, all the normal things. Chat! I’m even grateful for chat.”

“Well, I’m incredibly grateful for you especially.” Dream’s voice is soft, almost loving. George rolls his eyes. He could’ve guessed Dream’s answer, but it weirdly hurts him when it was spoken aloud. He doesn’t know whether it hurts because it might be a fun little joke or if it’s because someone might care about him that much. George decides to stop thinking.

They answer more questions, from taking four minutes to tell each other their life stories (“There was no reason to add that detail; you’re so gross, Dream.”) to what significant quality they would want to wake up and suddenly have (“You’re already good at code shit, George. That’s the saddest answer ever.”). They move onto section two of the list, which are deeper questions.

“Is there something you’ve dreamed of doing but haven’t yet, and why haven’t you?” George asks. He knows about Dream’s unfinished projects. There’s probably a million answers to the question, and George would listen to every single one.

“Uh, well. You know I was writing a book, yeah? I was halfway done with it, and I can’t make myself finish it. It’s probably writer’s block, but I don’t think I’ll be able to do it.” George frowned.

“You can’t finish it with that attitude, silly. You’re annoyingly amazing at everything.” George says with a snort, “I don’t have an answer to this. What did you say that one time? Your future is my future? Well, your dreams are my dreams, then.”

George cringes a little at what he said. He doesn’t know his viewer count, but knows that at least a million people will watch that clip out of context. Dream doesn’t say anything back and moves on to the next question.

“What is your most treasured memory?” Dream asks, and George immediately laughs.

“I definitely know your’s.”

“Do tell, George.”

“Our first Christmas together. Sapnap insisted on getting a real Christmas tree, and when we started decorating the stupid thing, Sapnap sees a spider and screeches. Then, our neighbors come knocking on the front door and you had to explain to them that nobody was being murdered, it was just your roommate being a big baby. And as if it could get any worse, I got tree-sap all on my fingers and clothes and you couldn’t help me because you were laughing too hard.”

“Pretty sure I almost choked on my own spit.” Dream adds, and George scoffs. “But no, that’s not my treasured memory.”

George sputters. “What? You’re telling me I told that to thousands of people for nothing?”

“To be fair, you were all soft on Christmas morning, so our first Christmas might be your treasured memory. Anyways, remember the first time you helped me with a code?” George stays silent, giving Dream the answer. “Well, that was the first time we had a real conversation. I made you laugh, then I started to laugh because you laughed, and we didn’t get the code done. It sounds dumb, but I always smile whenever I think about it.”

George’s face falters a bit. God, he just wants to hug Dream; he wants to make a beeline for his room and attack him with affection and make sure he knows that George loves him, platonically or romantically, George wants him to know.

He just can’t express it with words.

“That… sweet.” George’s eyes travel down the following questions and panics, seeing how personal the questions are. He fakes a yawn. “As mushy and stupid this thing is, I’m really tired.”

Dream doesn’t say anything. It almost scares George, but he deafens on Discord and bids farewell to his viewers, who were completely freaking out. George doesn’t blame them. He’s abruptly leaving after a sweet moment? That’s a recipe for disaster, and George knows better. Yet, he clicks the end stream button.

The door to his office swings open instantly and startles George. It was Sapnap, someone he didn’t particularly want to see.

“What the fuck was that?” His roommate whisper-yells.

George groans and slides deeper into his chair, covering his face. “I don’t know,” he muffles.

“Are you even trying to hide your feelings at this point?” He can hear Sapnap close the door and flop on his office’s couch. “You might as well buy a billboard that says ‘I’m in love with my best friend! His name is Clay!’ with a big ass picture of your dumb face beside it.”

“I know,” George whines. “Do you think he knows?”

“He’s not the one I’m worried about knowing. I’ve told you a million goddamn times that he’s too whipped to notice. I’m worried about the fans. They’re gonna go fucking bonkers because of this stream. Clips are gonna be shared. People are gonna speculate.”

George uncovers his face and narrows his eyes at his friend. “Thanks for the reassurance,” he deadpans.

Sapnap rolls his eyes. “I’m being serious, dude. I know you’re very deeply in love with him in the gayest of ways, but you gotta be careful in front of the fans.”

“Oh my God. I know, Sapnap! I know. I forgot we were even streaming. It felt like it was just the two of us, and I got too comfortable. And it was so nice. I can’t even do anything about it now, so it doesn’t even matter.”

Sapnap sighs and pulls himself from the couch. “You need to talk to him before this gets out of hand. You know I love ya, and that I’m here for you.” George cringes out of habit, but nods. It reads as ‘I love you too, I guess’.

Sapnap leaves without another word, and George is left alone with his thoughts. It’s not long before he sluggishly makes his way back to his bedroom. He opens the closed door, enters, and shuts it. He turns around, only to be greeted by a familiar person in his bed, and yelps.

Dream laughs. He’s wearing blue pajama pants and a white t-shirt. His hair looks messed with, and his cheeks seem to have more color to them. George can’t help but stare.

“Well? Aren’t we gonna finish it?”

George cocks an eyebrow.

“Finish what?”

“The questions, dummy. You don’t… you don’t have to. I mean, it’s kinda stupid that I want to do it in the first place, but…” Dream trails off. George hops on his bed and grins lightly.

“Go for it.”

They answer questions they skipped, like what is your most terrible memory (“My, uh, grandma. She died when I was about 14. It was… hard on me.” “Oh, George…”).

The overhead light was off at this point, the only light coming from a lamp on his desk and the stars shining through the window. The two are on their sides, Dream on the right of the bed and George on the left, facing each other, occasionally looking at their phones to ask the questions.

“What roles do love and affection play in your life?” Dream asks, his voice softer than ever. George can almost not answer. He doesn’t know.

“I’ve never been a super affectionate person, so I don’t know. I’ll give you guys quick hugs of course, but with really close relationships, I don’t know what to do.”

Dream looks as if he’s searching for something in George’s face, and George can’t tell what he’s looking for. His movements are hesitant, George sees.

“Do- um. You wanna maybe,” Dream pauses, closes his eyes,and scrunches up his face. “Try?”

“Try what?”

“Affection.” Dream lets out a breath and opens his eyes. “Affection is my strong suit, afterall.” His mouth forms into a teasing smirk despite his eyes showing nervousness.

“Um. Take the lead.”

It’s slow. So, very slow. Dream’s hand raises up and lands itself on the dip of George’s waist. He’s whispering instructions, and George listens. His hands are hung around Dream’s neck, and their legs are starting to tangle together. They laugh when they realize how far apart they are, and Dream pulls him closer. George can feel his heart beating out of his chest as he lays his head where Dream’s right shoulder meets his neck.

“Do you want me to ask the rest of the questions, sweetheart?” It sounded like a coo, and George is surprised at how effortless the pet name comes out of Dream’s mouth.

“Was that okay?” Dream whispers after a moment of George going still. He perks up.

“Yeah! Yeah.”

“Okay.” Dream pulls George closer and rests his left hand on his back. He starts rubbing up and down in slow motions.

George simply melts.

The questions and answers go by slower, and their voices become gentler. Dream announces that they’re on section three now, and to state three true “we” statements. Dream goes first.

“We… are cuddling?”

“Obviously, idiot.” George chuckles. “We are really tired?” Dream hums.

“We meant everything we’ve said tonight.”

“We are going to mean everything we say tonight.”

“You can’t just steal my answer.”

“Just do your third one.”

“We will be ‘Dream and George’ forever.”

Forever is a long, long time. And yet, Dream’s statement is still true.

“We don’t know what is going to happen tomorrow.”

There’s a beat of silence.

“Very vague.”

“Next question, Dream.”

“Alright, alright. Complete this sentence: ‘I wish I had someone whom I could share…’”

Without a second thought, George replies, “My emotions with. Your turn.”

George swears he felt Dream squeeze him.

“My everything with. Every single little thing. Physical, metaphorical, emotional.”

“Even Patches?”

A laugh.

“Yes. Even Patches.”

“Next question.”

“Tell your partner what you like about them and be very honest.”

“Your voice. It’s like… I don’t even know how to describe it.”

“Does it get you going, George?”

“Shut up. I definitely don’t like your smart-assery.” George can feel Dream lean down into George’s shoulder and smile. “I like how you act around people. It’s always different depending on the person. Different with me.”

“I like how you act around people too. You’re almost always bubbly, even though you like to say you aren’t. And, God, your laugh. It’s so overwhelming, but in the best way possible. You have no idea how many times I’ve said the stupidest shit just to hear your little laugh.” George digs his head deeper into Dream’s shoulder. “I also… really like it when you say my name. My real name.”

George raises slightly, gaining the tiniest bit of confidence. “Clay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, that.”

“Clay,” George whispers.

“George.” Dream sounds weak. So, very weak. George gets closer to his ear.

“Clay.”

George can’t tell if he’s joking.

“You’re gonna kill me, George.”

George’s lips brush against the outer of Dream’s ear, and his friend shivers. He decides this isn’t a joke anymore. He thinks the invisible line they had drawn in the sand many years ago has been kicked and stomped on to the point where neither of them remembers the line being there. George goes further.

“Clay, Clay, Clay,” George is still whispering, slowly brushing his lips across Dream’s jaw, and the hands around his waist get the littlest bit tighter.

George finally raises his head to meet Dream, who was a mess. His cheeks are glowing and his eyes are almost bloodshot. His breath is labored and his hands are shaky.

“Calm down, love.” George whispers and raises his right hand to meet Dream’s cheek, who leans into the touch.

“Kiss me.” Dream begs quietly, as if saying anything louder would shatter the moment in little pieces.

An adrenaline rush fills George’s veins. “Anything you want,” he says, and closes the gap.

The kiss is soft. Dream is maneuvering their bodies to be more comfortable, meaning George is pulled on top of Dream. Their lips didn’t part once.

They move together in harmony, both in the kiss and their bodies, putting everything they got into it. It was unsaid feelings and years and years of thoughts, and George felt every single one of them. George is straddling Dream’s middle and Dream is leaning up to meet George’s touch. His hands are rubbing up and down and squeezing George’s hips and George’s hands find their way into Dream’s hair. It’s perfect and imperfect and everything George has been waiting for, yearning for.

They part, and Dream pushes their foreheads together. George assumes they look dumb, but how could he care in this moment?

“Beautiful. You’re beautiful.” Dream says, his breath tickling George’s mouth. He lets out a breath and breaks out into a smile. His hands start brushing through Dream’s hair and George backs away to get a good look. Dream is staring back.

George lunges forward and wraps his arms around Dream’s neck, sending him flat on the bed with an “oof”.

“Jesus Christ, George. A warning would be nice.”

“I love you. I-love-you-I-love-you-I-love-you-I-love-you-I-love-you-I-love-you-” George couldn’t get enough of saying it. George’s dam cracked when Dream held him and fucking exploded when they kissed. He doesn’t have to hold back anymore, so he doesn’t.

“Slow down, baby.” Dream says through a chuckle. He makes George lean up with tans hands on pale cheeks and a lot of eye contact. “I love you, too.”

George’s breathing slows down to a normal, less-adrenaline-filled pace, and Dream kisses him again. George forces his head back up.

“What does this mean for us?”

“Isn’t it a little obvious?”

“Not really.”

“Boyfriends, George. We’re dating now.”

“How do you know I wanted to even be your boyfriend.” George narrows his eyebrows in faux-suspicion.

Dream’s stare is blank. “I mean. You’re- well- you know, um-”

George dismisses this shortly and confirms, “I want to be your boyfriend.”

Dream sighs in relief. “You’re such an idiot.”

“Yeah. Whatever.” George slides off Dream’s waist and lays facing him. Dream turns as well. “Was that question the last question?”

“No, actually. There were a few left.” Dream blinks, then muses, “Guess we didn’t need 36 questions after all.”

“That was the cheesiest thing you’ve ever said and I hate you for it.”

“You wound me, George. You wound me.”

George makes up for it by letting himself be engulfed in Dream’s embrace, and feels tiny kisses on the top of his head. George nuzzles closer.

Yeah, everything was going to be fine.

#idk how to tag this but um anyways u should read this #I SPEEDRAN THIS SHIT IN 3-4 HOURS #dnf fic #dreamnotfound #dnf #dreamnotfound fic #dnf fic rec #dreamwastaken #georgenotfound

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callboxkat · 4 years ago

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Banished (part 1)

Prompt: Banished

Author’s note: Mappy MerMay! (edit: I see the typo and I choose to keep it)

Summary: Janus has been banished from his pod for crimes that he did not commit. However, this merman’s bad luck is far from over. A mer is not meant to live on their own in the open ocean, and as one would expect, things do not go well. Enter: Florida Man.

Chapter Warnings: false accusations, past imprisonment, banishment, treating someone as an outcast, censored swearing, crying, death mentions

Word count: 2415

Banished Masterpost!

Writing Masterpost!

Ao3 Link

@badthingshappenbingo

...

“Janus, third child of Mariana and Glycon, you are hereby banished from this pod, and from all pods who condemn the nature of your crimes.”

Janus had known it was coming, but nevertheless, the merman felt the verdict stab through him like a harpoon. The water around him suddenly felt 10 degrees colder, and the walls of the chamber seemed to loom ever closer, suffocating him.

Banished.

Murmurs rippled through the small crowd. Scales shimmered as the gathered mers, most already hanging on the edges of the chamber, tried to distance themselves further from the outcast. From him.

“You will have until sunset to leave the reef. Should you be found within our territory after the sun sinks below the horizon, the penalty is death.”

Janus simply stared at the merwoman before him, holding herself tall in front of the ornate coral design upon the wall of the chamber, her face stony. Her verdict was final, and Janus knew it. It didn’t matter that he was innocent. Officially, he was a criminal. An outcast. Banished. Trying to fight her decision would only further tarnish his image, and most likely that of the family and friends he left behind.

A part of him didn’t care about that. But the part that did held his tongue.

Janus’s eyes shifted toward the back of the chamber, where he could see most of his family huddled together. His mother was crying, being held by his father. His siblings looked stunned. A part of Janus wanted to call out, to tell them to do something, even though he knew that there was nothing any of them could do to save him. He wasn’t sure they even believed him, that he had not committed these crimes. While they never told him so, their notably few visits while he was in prison spoke volumes.

His eyes slid back to the judge, and he dipped his head in bitter acceptance. His fists tightened, and the long, metal chain attacked to one of his arms clinked softly. It was there both to keep him trapped and to prevent him to use his electric abilities, as if he would ever do something so loathsome and barbaric, even if his family hadn’t been in the room.

The judge raised her hands, and the chamber began to empty. A couple of Janus’s siblings glanced back at him as they left, but mostly, the mers who had come for the show avoided looking at him now. They would not want to be associated with an outcast. He understood, even if anger gathered in his chest. Even his parents refused to look in his direction, and the glances his siblings spared him were brief.

Finally, when all who remained were Janus, the judge, and the guards, two off them swam to his sides and unlocked the chain from Janus’s wrist, one keeping a clawed hand at the back of Janus’s neck as a warning. The cuff was replaced with another, lighter, but permanent one. This one was etched with sharp symbols. Janus closed his eyes and clenched his jaw as it was locked in place, a permanent hindrance to how much of his electricity he could use without harming himself, a solemn marker of his fate, and a warning to all others of his crimes. He would never be taken into another pod, not with that on his wrist. Not unless he could somehow get somewhere far enough away that they might not know what it meant.

At last, the guards let him go. He was allowed to leave. To prepare for his departure, and to say goodbye.

Janus opened his eyes and looked up at the judge, who remained at her post, watching him. He knew that he was supposed to thank her for her mercy, but he couldn’t bring himself to do so. He figured that the “Go f*ck yourself” he actually wanted to say would do him and his family no favors, so he compromised and simply turned and swam from the room.

His life was over, in every way that mattered.

Outside, the bustling atmosphere of the reef seemed in sharp contrast to the somber mood within the chamber. Fish and other sea creatures weaved between glimmering mers. Cheerful gossip could be heard, as well as mers arguing over prices at colorful stalls, or calling out greetings to each other. Some kids seemed to be trying to see who could get the most pebbles to sail between the fork in a tall spire of coral.

It had been some time since Janus had been “free” this way, which only made the difference feel all the more staggering. To be suddenly thrust back into this normal part of life, even if only for the few hours they allowed him to prepare for his banishment, was… unsettling.

However, the atmosphere wasn’t quite the same as it had once been. None of the mers came close to him, Janus noted, choosing instead to take a longer path to avoid him, even as they acted as if nothing was wrong. As if it were a coincidence that they wanted to swim on the other side of the path. There had always been some nervousness that many mers tended to have around those with abilities like electricity or poison. But this was a whole level or two beyond that.

They knew. Of course they did. He was sure that everybody had been told of his “crimes”. The metal cuff on his wrist burned like a brand, but he refused to rub it, or to hide it with his other hand.

He swam away. He wasn’t even sure where he was going, but soon enough, he found himself at his destination

Of course. He wouldn’t have gone anywhere else.

It wasn’t his home that he found himself approaching, slowing his pace as it came into sight. Most of his family had said their good byes before his sentencing. Instead, he found himself at the home of his best friend: Roman.

Roman hadn’t been at Janus’s sentencing, but it seemed that the merman had somehow known he would come, and had been waiting for him. He was pacing, swimming back and forth between the two large, algae and sea star covered stones that marked the entrance to his property.

As Janus approached, Roman froze, and turned sharply towards him. His face was almost as red as the striping on his gorgeous tail, the pain in his eyes clearly visible with his long hair tied back.

“Janus,” he croaked, and pushed off of one of the rocks, swimming for Janus as fast as he could.

They crashed into each other, Roman’s arms encircling him. Janus choked on a surge of emotion and squeezed his best friend back. It was the first time they’d been this close to each other since his arrest.

“I’m sorry, Jan.”

“It’s okay,” he lied. Perhaps if he could convince Roman, Janus could believe it himself.

…

All too soon, the sky above the water began to turn pink and orange as the sun dipped below the horizon. It was time to leave.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” Roman asked.

The two mermen floated together at the edge of the reef. Behind them, bioluminescent lanterns had begun to glow, and the sounds of life had begun to lull as most everyone went home for the night. Everyone except for them. Janus had a bag strapped to his back, with what few supplies he had allowed himself to bring. Some food, his gloves—which still fit over the cuff that would forever mark him as an outcast, thankfully—some bandages, a compass, and two carvings: one of his family made just after his youngest sibling had been born, and one of Janus and Roman, smiling for the carver.

Roman and Janus had gone back to Janus’s home to fetch the supplies. It had been nice to have Roman there, for his support. Most of his family had avoided him, even though he could tell they were heartbroken. A couple of his siblings had told him good-bye, and to take care of himself. Only his littlest sibling, who probably knew very little of the situation, had hugged Janus. She’d grown, since he’d last seen her. Janus had remained resolutely calm as he clung to her for the last time.

“Of course I’ll be okay,” Janus lied, now, looking out at the dark water.

Roman looked unsure, but Janus only turned and offered a half smile.

“So, uh… where are you going to go?”

It wasn’t the first time he’d asked. Janus still didn’t know how to answer.

“Maybe I’ll find another pod to join,” he shrugged eventually.

Roman’s eyes went to the metal cuff on Janus’s wrist, letters etched within it to symbolize his condemnation. He knew as well as Janus did that no mer pod who knew its meaning would take him, not when it was so clear to see.

“Maybe I’ll cover it up,” Janus said, putting a hand over the cuff self-consciously. He did his best to seem casual about it. He’d been almost defiant, back in the busier part of the reef, but it felt different, with Roman.

“Maybe,” Roman agreed halfheartedly.

“You know those arm bands the guards wear? Maybe I’ll get something like that. Or I’ll get thicker gloves.”

“You are pretty good at weaving,” Roman allowed. “You could make them look nice.”

“Naturally.”

They looked out at the open water.

“You could add some beading,” Roman suggested.

“Sea glass,” Janus nodded.

Roman nodded vaguely. “Oh—Jan, I have something for you.” He took off his own pack and started to dig through it.

“I hope it’s not too heavy,” Janus said dryly. “I’ll probably have to swim pretty far. If you’re giving me one of those statues of yours, I’m going to have to say no.”

“Ah, shut up,” Roman said, smacking his arm lightly. A heartbroken look flashed briefly on his face, and he quickly went back to digging through his pack. “No, it’s… here.” He pulled something out with a small flourish. He looked at it for a second, as if hesitating, then handed it over.

It was a small, red scale, a little bigger than the pad of Janus’s thumb, attached to a cord.

Janus took it in careful hands. “One of yours?”

Roman shifted, tucking his hands behind his back. “Yeah. You know, so you don’t forget about me on all your marvelous adventures to come.”

“I’d never forget you, Roman.” Janus looked down at the scale for a few seconds, tilting it so it shimmered in the fading sunlight. He glanced up, biting his lip. “I’m sorry I don’t have any to give you.”

They glanced down at Janus’s tail. It was sleek, nearly black, with a thick yellow stripe down the center that flared out at the fin, with yellow hints at the fins on his sides and back as well. All in all, it wasn’t all that different from most mers’ tails, except that rather than scales, its surface was made up of smooth, thick skin.

“It’s okay,” Roman said. “I’ll remember you, anyway.”

Janus nodded. He put the necklace around his neck, but kept turning the scale in his hands.

Silence fell over them. Above, the sun seemed to dip further below the horizon, signaling just how little time they had left.

And then Roman began to cry.

“Sh*t,” said Janus, looking down at the ground. “Don’t do that. You’re embarrassing me.” You’re going to make me cry if you keep that up.

Roman shook his head. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m trying—I know you want to just act like it’s normal, like this is just a normal night, but—Janus, I’m never—” his voice broke, and he had to take a shuddering breath to continue—“I’m never going to see you again.”

Janus knew that. Of course he knew that. He took a deep, steadying breath.

“This f*cking sucks.”

Roman, still crying, nodded emphatically.

“Come here,” he sighed. He reached out and put his arms around Roman. They floated there for a moment, holding on to each other. Roman’s grip was so tight that it almost hurt. Janus tried to memorize the feeling of his bracelets where they rested against his back, the texture of his hair against the side of his face, the way the merman felt in his arms.

“I just… How are you—how are you just okay with this? Why aren’t you yelling and screaming? Why aren’t you angry? Go fight them on this! Appeal or something. Fight. You’re… it’s not like you to just accept this.”

“It won’t change anything.” Janus said, his chin on Roman’s shoulder.

“You could at least… try.”

“I did try, Roman. I promise you I tried.” All the yelling and swearing and fighting in the world had gotten Janus absolutely nowhere. All his attempts to prove his innocence had been stricken down. One last attempt at an appeal would simply be rejected. It was too late to try, with the sun nearly set; and doing his trial over again would made no difference, anyway. Janus’s fate had been decided the moment he was arrested.

“Damnit,” Roman mumbled. Somehow, he managed to squeeze Janus tighter.

Normally, Janus was not the most cuddly mer in the ocean. But he’d allow it, tonight. …For Roman’s sake.

“What if I let you stay here?” Roman asked. “I could hide you. My parents left me a pretty big property. It has plenty of hiding spaces.”

Janus shook his head. “They’d figure it out eventually. And then they’d just kill us both.”

“Then… then I’ll come with you.”

Janus shook his head. “Roman, what about Patty? We can’t take them with us.”

Roman turned his head briefly away. He didn’t answer, other than to drop his head down so that his forehead rested on Janus’s shoulder, defeated. He never could have abandoned his sibling, or forced them to share Janus’s fate.

The sun sank lower.

“Just tell me you’re going to be okay,” Roman sniveled. “Really. Promise me.”

“Of course I’m going to be okay,” Janus lied. “I promise.”

It was okay that Roman clearly didn’t believe him. It was just what he was supposed to say, wasn’t it?

…

The moment that Janus was far enough from the reef that Roman could no longer see him, Janus broke. He just hadn’t wanted Roman to see him cry.

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quazartranslates · 4 years ago

Text

Welcome to the Nightmare Game II - CH1

**This is an edited machine translation. For more information, please [click here]**

[Table of Contents | Next Chapter >>>]

-----

Chapter 1: Resurrection Overture (I)

{E/N: The first section is recap, the rest is new. If you wish to skip the recap, scroll down to the &&& scene break.}

{cw: mention of miscarriage, religious homophobia}

Welcome to Nightmare Game I. A review of the story:

1. [First People's Hospital of X City]: Qi Leren, the protagonist, downloaded a computer game called the Nightmare Game on the Internet. After the first BE ending, his computer broke down. He took his laptop to repair it, but the bus he was riding was involved in a traffic accident. He and the injured passengers were taken to the First People's Hospital of X City by ambulance and he met Dr. Lu in the ambulance.　　

After waking up again, Qi Leren found himself in the empty People's Hospital and he had received his own task system, which asked him to survive in this hospital until dawn, and got an S/L skill card: [S/L Data] (binding skill card): the holder can set a save point at the position where his body is located. If he dies or suffers fatal injury within 10 seconds after saving, his body will automatically return to the position and state where the save point was set and will immediately trigger the second use. One save point can be used three times continuously and the cooldown time is 1 hour. Anyway, if you want to use it, you will die.　　

In order to survive, Qi Leren had to commit suicide frequently in this haunted hospital to save his life. He met Dr. Lu and Xue Yingying, who were also involved in this game, and learned that there was a murderer in this hospital who was killing any survivors like them. With such an unexpected factor, the task of surviving until dawn became more difficult. The three people also met another mysterious player, Su He. With his help, the four people and the murderer fought bravely and killed him and cracked the secrets of the hospital from more than 20 years ago, successfully avoiding the earthquake before daybreak and surviving until dawn.

2. [First Arrival at the Village of Dusk]: After the mission, the four people came to the players’ homebase in the main world of the Nightmare Game - the Village of Dusk. There were many ordinary people here who had the same experiences as Qi Leren. They received "survival days" by constantly going to other worlds or performing tasks in the main world, and they would die once the survival days were exhausted. In the Nightmare World, apart from a few human settlements where the status quo of peace has been maintained, other places were ruled by demons. Qi Leren was very surprised, because he found that the Nightmare World had the same story background as the Nightmare Game he had played before entering here, but no one else had played this game, so he had to keep the secret and think about whether the tasks done in the Nightmare Game could be triggered in this world. Su He, who had been very mysterious in the first mission, also confessed his identity. It turned out that he was a Game Master from the Village of Dawn who went to investigate a bug in the Novice Village. Not long after settling in the Village of Dusk, Qi Leren triggered the compulsory task "Witchcraft Sacrifice" from the dead because of a murder case on the road.

3. [Witchcraft Sacrifice]: Qi Leren had to perform the "Witchcraft Sacrifice" task, but during the task, male players were given women's appearances, because the background of the task was that a small village that sacrificed thirteen girls to a demon every three years in order to seek refuge from the Devil. These girls killed each other in the forest, and finally a winner became a witch who served the Devil. Qi Leren, who had become a girl, met an iceberg, Ning Zhou, and fell in love with her at first sight. He pursued his beloved goddess while struggling to perform his task. The goddess seemed to have a good impression of him. After a series of adventures where they shared life and death, they finally defeated the powerful enemy and completed the task. The NPC Isabel finally became the witch who served the Devil. The two players met on the steel bridge in the Village of Dusk, but unfortunately he found that his goddess was also a man, and the undying love shared between the two people in the task quickly died.

4. [Seed of Slaughter]: After his failed first love, Qi Leren suffered a great blow and unfortunately met a player who had been parasitized by a seed of slaughter while flying in an airship. This player went mad because of the seed of slaughter’s outbreak, killing innocent people on the airship, but Qi Leren was parasitized by the seed of slaughter after killing him in defense, and then was taken away by the Village of Dusk’s judicial Trials Court. In order to remove the seed of slaughter, he made a deal with the Trials Office and became an undercover member of the crazy society that worshipped the Devil of Slaughter. Chen Baiqi, a businesswoman whom Qi Leren had met in the Village of Dusk, invited him to visit a common friend's grave on the Undead Island. After every player died in the Nightmare World, a tombstone was automatically generated on the island. As a result, Qi Leren found a large number of his own tombstones on the Undead Island. He had thought that his S/L skill was simply activated in the instant before he died. He felt very scared and questioned if he had already died, or if he was just a copy with his memories. On the Undead Island, his friend Chen Baiqi told him the story of Ning Zhou. Only then did Qi Leren know that Ning Zhou was an exorcist of the Nightmare World’s Holy See, and homosexuality was forbidden in the Holy See. Therefore, Ning Zhou was very pained after learning that he was a male, and Qi Leren felt very guilty.

5. [Castle Cry]: Qi Leren and his good friend Dr. Lu activated a copy task called "Castle Cry". The background of this copy was that three couples came to the mountains in the suburbs to watch the stars in the middle of the night for the once-a-century meteor shower. There was a European-style old castle built on the mountain during the Republic of China, which was said to have been built by a German couple who came to China to do business, and was later abandoned after a fire. The local government had repeatedly tried to repair the old castle, but accidents had occurred. No one had set foot on the old castle. At midnight that night, the clear night sky suddenly covered with dark clouds, raining heavily, and the six people were trapped on the top of the mountain. The rain was getting heavier and one of them proposed to take shelter from the rain under the eaves of the castle...

After entering the castle, Qi Leren and others dug up the old castle’s story. It turned out that a noble lady with a family history of hereditary mental illness had married her sweetheart, but her sweetheart loved her maid Adeline. The noble lady poisoned Adeline because of jealousy and married her sweetheart as she wished. After marriage, they came to China to do business and built the old castle. Her husband did not want her to give birth to children who might also suffer from the hereditary mental illness, so Nina, the housemaid, was instructed to add mercury powder to her diet as a contraception. After learning the side effects of the mercury powder, Nina secretly reduced the dose. Finally, the wife became pregnant. After Nina heard that the child would be deformed, she was very afraid, worried that the wife’s mental illness would be triggered if she gave birth to the deformed fetus, and she accidentally caused her to fall down the stairs and miscarry. After the miscarriage, the wife’s mental condition deteriorated sharply and she was often paranoid, suspecting that everything was caused by the ghost of Adeline, the maid she had poisoned, and the relationship between husband and wife almost broke down. In order to save her love, she began to sacrifice to the Devil, and finally became demonized herself, killing everyone in the castle and setting fire to it.

During the mission, Qi Leren found the laptop computer with the Nightmare Game, but the computer had run out of battery. He put away the computer and prepared to bring it back to the Village of Dusk to find someone to make a transformer so he could connect the power supply and try to play the ending. During the mission Su He reappeared, saying that there were some abnormal reactions in this mission, and it was suspected that demon energy had polluted the task’s world, which led to the plot confusion and difficulty increase. This mainly manifested in the fact that the crazy lady sacrificed to the Devil and gained demonic power after her mental illness worsened. This mission should not have had such a plot. With the help of Su He, Qi Leren and Dr. Lu successfully solved the problem of the crazy lady and finished the task, then returned to the Village of Dusk, but the laptop mysteriously disappeared from Qi Leren’s item storage.

6. [Slaughter Secret Society]: After returning to the Village of Dusk, Qi Leren received a notice from the Trials Court asking him to disguise himself as the secret lover the former head of the Slaughter Secret Society (deceased), and seize the Slaughter Secret Society’s memento ring to gain the command of the Slaughter Secret Society, so that the Trials Court could catch all those crazy believers. Qi Leren approached the members of the Slaughter Secret Society as the coquettish gay "Red". During the mission, he was unfortunately attacked by Ning Zhou and both of them were shocked. During the undercover mission, Ning Zhou helped him get out of trouble several times. Both of them vaguely felt that they still liked each other. Although they were not women, they were still attracted to each other. After successfully seizing the Slaughter Secret Society’s memento ring and handing it over to the Court, Qi Leren had the seed of slaughter removed and triggered the main task "The Dream of the Holy Nun".

7. [The Dream of the Holy Nun]: The Dream of the Holy Nun was carried out in the main world, involving the past where the old Devil led the demons to invade the human world more than 20 years ago. At that time, the Holy City where the Vatican was located was unsustainable, and the Holy See evacuated urgently to Neverland. The Holy Nun Maria couldn't bear to see the people of the Holy City slaughtered by the Devil and created a powerful field, sheltering the whole Holy City in her territory. After the war, the old Devil was killed and the Holy City was left with serious destruction. After more than 20 years, the Holy City was still protected by the remnants of the Holy Nun and was shrouded in fog and inaccessible. Qi Leren got the Holy Nun Maria’s memento in the Village of Dusk, and he could enter the Holy City with it. At the same time, he also learned that Ning Zhou was the son of Maria and a player. In order to fulfill Maria's last wish—to liberate the closed and dying Holy City—Qi Leren, Ning Zhou, Dr. Lu, and Su He went to the Holy City together.

At this time, the Holy City is still peaceful, unlike the nightmare of the outside world. However, Qi Leren and his party had found an abnormality. No newborn had been born in the Holy City for more than 20 years and, from a certain year, every night of the new moon the citizens had to fall asleep before midnight and sleep until dawn, otherwise they would disappear. In order to explore the truth and fulfill Maria's last wish, the group of people began to investigate the cause of the abnormality. Finally, it was found that a surviving witch who had followed the old Devil King was accumulating strength to unlock the Holy Nun’s seal, which caused the sleeping people to change from human beings to demons because of the influence of demon energy on every lunar night, while the humans who remained awake became the targets of the demons, who hunted, brutally killed, and ate them. Qi Leren and others opened the seal on the site of the Vatican and acted separately.

When Qi Leren came to the cathedral where Holy Nun and old Devil had fought in the war, he found that his good friend, Su He, who had always been mysterious, gentle, and powerful, turned out to be a Devil. After the death of the old Devil, he gained part of the Devil’s power and had been secretly planning something. When he was in the Novice Village he had discovered Qi Leren's uniqueness, so he had been deliberately approaching him and using him, successfully following him into the Holy City protected by the Holy Nun’s power, and reached the old Devil as he wished. Su He let Qi Leren choose whether to degenerate into a demon or die. Qi Leren pretended to obey and died with Su He after saving, but failed because of the great disparity in strength and was finally killed by Su He, who was summoned by a messenger of the Devil of Power to leave the Holy City.

Because he had an item that would resurrect him in seven days, Qi Leren wrote a 7 on the ground in blood before he died, trying to tell Ning Zhou that he would be resurrected in seven days, but suddenly remembered that 7 means I love you in the Nightmare World. After Ning Zhou arrived, Su He had already left, leaving only Qi Leren’s body and a misunderstood confession. Ning Zhou realized that he was deeply in love with Qi Leren, regardless of gender, and that he loved this person's soul. So Ning Zhou returned to the Vatican in Neverland after the funeral, confessed his sin of falling in love with the same sex to the Pope, and left the Holy See.

So ends the first chapter.

&&& The story continues &&&

As the sun rises and the moon sets, the days and nights change. Seven days are fleeting.

The Garden of the Holy Tomb was wrapped in a gentle barrier.

Here, the sun was blazing, and it was also hit by an afternoon rainstorm. Countless monsters lingered outside the enchantment, showing malicious curiosity about the scent of a human inside the enchantment. But because they can't destroy the enchantment, they left disgruntled.

The breeze blew, tossing up the blue and white petals on the branches and they fell in great numbers to the ground, as well as to the hollow tree that had become a tomb. In just seven days, layer upon layer of petals had covered the man sleeping in the tree tomb, letting him be buried in this annihilated city together with the fallen flowers.

[Countdown to resurrection: 0 days, 0 hours, 0 minutes, and 0 seconds.]

[Easter Egg has taken effect, all skills and items are returned.]

[Player Qi Leren has completed The Dream of the Holy Nun. The task completion rate was 117%. Obtain special task clues, and reach the Purgatory deep in the Underground Ant City within 23 days for the next task to auto-trigger. If it becomes overdue, it will be regarded as giving up the task.]

[The reward is 90 survival days, and the unexpected factors interfering with the task progress have given an additional reward of 10 survival days.]

[Player Qi Leren has completed the achievement of "Deceiving the Devil of Fraud". The reward is the skill card "Secretly Observing".]

Qi Leren opened his eyes.

Stiffness, soreness, heaviness... Countless negative states superimposed on him, making him almost think he was paralyzed. The world consisted of mottled floating light and shadow, but the fresh scent of flowers and plants entered his nose.

The heart was beating again, the blood was flowing again, the lungs were filling again, and the Qi Leren was gasping for breath. The body that had been suspended in death for seven days seemed to have just been lifted out of an ice coffin. All of the organs in his body had almost forgotten how to operate, so they could only restart with difficulty as they let him change back from a dead person to a living person.

It took him a long time to remember everything, including his own name, but the next thing went smoothly. Qi Leren quickly recalled where he was and what he’d experienced—he was killed by the Devil of Fraud and the murderer had gotten the demon crystal of the old Devil before he left, but he’d concealed the fact that he would be resurrected in seven days.

Ning Zhou!

Qi Leren suddenly sat up from the tree tomb. He was dizzy because of insufficient blood pressure, and his spine made a scary "click" sound which made him almost think it was going to break. Fortunately, it held up strongly. Because of lack of oxygen in the brain, Qi Leren lay back again, staring at the blue sky and white clouds overhead.

The Dream of the Holy Nun task had been completed, that was to say, Maria's field had been solved. There was no doubt that the person who completed it was Ning Zhou, not Qi Leren who had won by lying down. Now that the task had been completed Ning Zhou had left the Holy City, but he had stayed in the Garden of the Holy Tomb because Ning Zhou had left his "corpse" here.

Thankfully, Ning Zhou didn't cremate him. Thank you customs of the Holy See!

Orthodox Vatican people usually put corpses in open coffins, covered them with cloth or other materials, and then buried them in the coffins after they decayed into bones. Because if a corpse was buried directly in the ground, the power of faith couldn’t dissipate, and the corpse often couldn’t rot for several years, so it needed to be placed in the open air to wait for the power of faith to collapse naturally. This process was also considered as the process of the soul ascending to heaven.

Although Qi Leren was not a member of the Holy See, Ning Zhou followed this custom and left him a whole corpse.

His body recovered some strength, and Qi Leren's thinking recovered from the initial delay to his usual state. He sat up and drank some water, and recalled his "death".

Death was like sleeping to the extreme. He had no longer been able to feel anything externally, but he had started "dreaming".

A looming dream that made him feel lost.

He had dreamed of Ning Zhou's mother, Maria.

She sat on a swing in the Garden of the Holy Tomb, which was on the big tree that was later broken by lightning while it was still verdant. At that time, Maria was not the famous Holy Nun. She was just a young girl, swinging on a swing in the warm afternoon, enjoying the beautiful time of youth and leisure.

Qi Leren walked towards her. Maria saw him and nodded to him with a smile. Her blue eyes seemed like the blue sky.

The sky... Qi Leren's consciousness was shocked by this deep blue. He suddenly flew, as if his soul had detached from his body, rising higher and higher, and the Garden of the Holy Tomb grew small beneath his feet. Together with the old site of the Holy See, it all became far away. The whole Holy City was brought before his eyes, and then the distant mountains and rivers... Countless demons were wandering, human beings were experiencing unprecedented suffering and struggling to survive, all of the cruelty of this world was shown to him.

He seemed to be a god overlooking the world, staring at the devastated land with compassionate eyes, but he could do nothing but grieve. This pain lashed his soul and great sadness tormented him. He desperately wanted to do something for the world, but found himself as weak as a worm.

"Look, when you stand at this height, you will find that you are even smaller and weaker than you think."

A gentle female voice came from behind, and Qi Leren "saw" Maria behind him. He understood why there was always a lingering pity and sadness in her eyes.

"But such fragile human beings have to fight against this world persistently, control their own destiny and the destiny of the world, and we never give up. Let the Devil go back to hell, let human beings dominate this human world, and let foreigners like you return to their own world—the martyrs who are gone worked hard for this, and one day, this dream will be realized."

"Ms. Maria, why did we come here from our own world?" Qi Leren asked.

Maria shook her head gently. "This is something that the will of the world decided. We suspect that it was only an accident at first. Later, it deliberately introduced more foreigners and wanted you to maintain this unbalanced world. Unfortunately, there are too many variables amongst you, and the fallen foreigners have aggravated this imbalance... It still has not given up... You have to be careful, you are already the object of observation."

The feeling of being secretly watched made him uneasy, and Qi Leren wanted to ask more questions, but he has already started to fall.

From the sky, dropping rapidly and falling to the earth!

This feeling of weightlessness was like being awakened every night by his nightmares, when he woke up in horror at the memories of his deaths, sweating profusely.

There was only Maria's gentle but regretful voice in his ear: "I can't tell you any more. Come to the church. I have something for you."

The dream of Maria had ended, and the Qi Leren who had come back from the dead recalled this strange dream. He understood that this was not an ordinary dream, but the residual power of Maria’s influence on him. It seemed that he must go to the church at the top of the former site of the Vatican again.

His body gradually recovered its strength and Qi Leren gawked at the Vatican uniform on himself, and the white roses that had already withered on him. Those thoughts about Ning Zhou that he didn’t dare to dwell on rushed back to his mind.

Love at first sight, feelings amidst danger, life and death before disaster... The beauty in these memories was deeply buried in shock when they had met again, but his death was the key to awaken everything, and the mistaken confession of that which should not be said was the straw that crushed everything.

He shouldn't have said anything, he should have died in silence.

If Qi Leren could go back in time and choose again, he would not write down the 7. He would rather swallow this overflowing love silently and would rather let Ning Zhou think he was really dead, so that he wouldn’t be forced to go down this blind alley that would only lead him to the fire-lake of hell.

He couldn't tell the person whom he loved, who maybe loved him, that he loved him.

Because this was an impermissible and sinful love.

He was not afraid to fall in love with Ning Zhou, but he was afraid that this love would bring pain to Ning Zhou. He was even afraid of himself, who was full of hope and longing in his heart—how could he expect a saint to admit his guilt over such a love?

This secret expectation was selfishness and even sin.

How was Ning Zhou now? And where was he? Would he return to the Holy See? Could he go back?

When love broke taboos, how could a devout believer face the reality that he had deviated from his faith? He was destined to give up one of them.

Qi Leren shook his hand and picked up the bunch of white roses on him.

The roses had already withered, and fragile yellow petals fell from the stems that had had their thorns shaved off, just seven.

That is Ning Zhou’s silent answer.

Qi Leren slowly showed a smile, but his eyes were wet-

On the ring finger of his left hand, there was a ring made up of grass stalks. It was so rough and humble, like a craft made by a child. If it fell to the ground, no one would look at it again.

It just so happened that it was placed on Qi Leren’s ring finger, a symbol of love, commitment, and eternity.

Therefore, its destiny was not to be a toy woven by a child, but to be the most faithful and brave answer given by a devout believer after he had tortured himself and subverted his faith.

A pair of lovers who shouldn't fall in love, at both ends of life and death, spoke their own words from the soul.

I love you.

-----

Editor’s Notes:

Welcome back! A little bit of housekeeping to begin:

[Here] is the NovelUpdates page for part 2.

I made up a little [list of significant characters] who appear in part 1, including which skill cards they have, for anyone who would like a refresher. This is also linked at the top of part 2′s TOC page.

As was the case for most of part 1, I intend for chapter updates to be every second day. I will mention if this is ever subject to change.

Lastly, while this chapter does not have an author’s note, I wanted to include a note from part 2′s summary section since it gives some fun hints of what’s to come:

“PPPS: Inspiration comes from horror movies and games such as the Alien series, the Silent Hill series, the Resident Evil series, Bloodborne, Dark Souls 3, etc. There are also a number of documentaries used, specifically when it comes to time periods.”

-----

[Table of Contents | Next Chapter >>>]

#Welcome to the Nightmare Game #欢��来到噩梦游戏 #danmei

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simp-for-mha-men · 4 years ago

Text

𝕚 𝕨𝕒𝕟𝕥 𝕪𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕓𝕒𝕕 𝕣𝕠𝕞𝕒𝕟𝕔𝕖 (𝕜𝕒𝕥𝕤𝕦𝕜𝕚 𝕓𝕒𝕜𝕦𝕘𝕠𝕦 𝕩 𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣)

Request by @loxbbg: Drummer Bakugo x Lead singer Reader (ngl saw a TikTok and couldn’t help it) and they have a really lowkey relationship and the reader is singing bad romance and she goes up to Bakugo and is basically like singing to him he like drops his sticks mid play and kisses her sending the crowd crzy and there other band mates (the rest of bakusquard) are like called it

A/N: If anybody asks, this isn’t one of my biggest fantasies. Also, no, I didn’t listen to Bad Romance a couple times before this to try and nail the ‘ole Tik Tok high note. Anywho, I love this idea! Enjoy this trainwreck of a concert!

Genre: female reader, musician/band au, swearing cause it’s Bakugou, established relationship, pg-13 due to some vulgar-ish things and a suggestive ending, the fans losing their minds over you and Bakugou 💥❤️

Word count: 2.8k

♥*♥*♥*♥*♥*♥*♥*♥*♥*♥*♥*♥*♥*♥

“You are such an asshole,” you groaned, pushing your boyfriend on the couch.

“You are such a bitch,” he growled, pulling you onto to his lap to engage in a messy make-out session.

It was the U.A. International Music Festival, and your group, known as The Chaos Crew, was headlining the event. Today was the first performance, ushering in the exclusive guests who paid extra for V.I.P. status. To say the least, Katsuki Bakugou, your boyfriend and drummer, was a lot more annoying than usual. Some examples were how the kisses you shared were rougher, the hand holding was almost painful with how tight he squeezed, and the mic checks were filled with intense staring. However, the band didn’t know you two were together, making the situation much worse.

Somehow, your other friends turned bandmates Eijirou Kirishima, Denki Kaminari, Hanta Sero, and Mina Ashido agreed to pursue the dream with you when you first offered up the idea. Bakugou took more convincing. He thought you were the most idiotic person on the planet. His superiority complex only became worse when you asked him if he could be the drummer for your new group. He agreed after hearing you beg for a couple weeks straight, which began the slippery slope of flirtatious tension.

Despite you two being together all the time, the flirting wasn’t obvious. Bakugou would notice your skirts when they were just a bit shorter, and you would notice when his shirts when they got just a bit tighter. Neither of you ever let the other one know, though. Both of you despised each other so much that it would be the death of either of you for your secrets to get out.

One day, this changed during a photoshoot for your first magazine article. A rival band, known as The Pros, was at the shoot, and their lead singer, Deku, was asking you questions whenever you weren’t working. You didn’t mind it. You actually found it flattering how interested he was in your vocal range. However, after watching Deku “flirt” with you, Bakugou dragged you to the green room.

Slamming the door, he turned around and asked, “Are you fucking blind, (y/n)?”

“Excuse me?” you scoffed.

“You heard me. He’s flirting with you for fuck’s sake! Tell him to just leave before I knock it into him.”

His overprotectiveness shocked you. You were more than confused. You weren’t that pretty, so Deku couldn’t be flirting with you. Your hair was well put together, your makeup was done nicely, and you were dressed with just a tad bit of sexiness, but you still looked average. It didn’t add up.

“Deku is not flirting with me,” you replied, rolling your eyes. “He’s just assessing the competition.”

“He’s staring at your tits and waiting for your little skirt to flip up,” Bakugou replied, clenching his fist.

“Ugh, stop being so vulgar!”

“I’m being honest, princess.”

Marching over to him, you met his gaze. Waiting for him to continue with another statement, you stood in front of him and didn’t cower under his stare. Instead of getting an earful, you felt pressure on your lips. He kissed you, and you loved it. You loved it too much. He was like a drug, and your first hit left you wanting more.

You ended up spending the next 30 minutes in the green room making out and telling each other how much you hated it. It was true love, and after this experience, you began dating each other in private. Your family knew and so did his, but your bandmates didn’t. At least, you both were in agreement about that.

As time went on, The Chaos Crew began rising in the charts. After releasing 3 number one singles, you started touring and gaining a much bigger fan base. The Chaos Children, or what your fanbase called themselves, began doing every celebrity’s nightmare in a matter of weeks: shipping. The most popular ship within your band was, you guessed it, you and Bakugou. This was a running joke between Denki and Sero, but little did they know it was already a sailing ship. This only made you keep your relationship even more private.

Now, back to the U.A. International Music Festival. The feverish kiss ended, leaving you and your hot-headed boyfriend panting messes. Leaning into him, you nuzzled your face in his neck. You pressed a kiss to his collarbone before stopping to just inhale his scent.

“Since when are you so needy?” Bakugou joked, mocking you.

“Since when did you start acting like a child?” you snapped back.

You yelped, realizing Bakugou had slapped your exposed thigh. Whenever you both were performing, he felt the need to have his hands on you at all times. The band and fanbase, however, couldn’t know about you two. It would be too detrimental to your career.

“When am I gonna see you in my room?” Bakugou asked, rubbing where a red mark was forming due to his slap.

“Tonight,” you coyly replied.

“Oh really? Will you be wearing my favorite little outfit?”

“Of course, I will.”

Suddenly, a loud knock interrupted your rendezvous. Brushing yourself off, you leaped off of Bakugou’s lap and stood up as formally as possible. Of course, you two had snuck off together. You couldn’t just tell everyone you were going somewhere with Bakugou alone. However, you were relieved to hear a familiar voice on the other side.

“Bakugou? (y/n)?” Mina called, waiting for either of you to reply.

“Come on in, babe,” you replied, saying it a little too quickly.

Mina opened the door and smirked when she saw you two. She had her suspicions about the two of you, but they were never confirmed nor denied. She knew she might never get her ship to sail, but she would never tell either of you that.

“What do you want, Bug Eyes?” Bakugou grumbled.

“Not much,” Mina shrugged, “but I have news. We have a schedule change.”

At this, Bakugou exchanged a look with you. A schedule change during the U.A. Festival was like waiting outside of a store for days for a limited-edition item then leaving and never buying it. Someone dropped their act for later that night. There was no other possibility.

“Sero got an update from Shinsou,” Mina stated, “and it looks like Deku broke his ankle from a stunt during their last show. They can’t perform tonight.”

Bakugou smirked, and you punched him in the arm. Ever since the photoshoot, he despised Deku. It was as if they were born to be rivals, which made you laugh a little.

“What’s the plan?” you questioned, knowing that Shinsou, one of the event directors, had already made one.

“We’re taking half of their slot,” Mina smiled, shoving a set list into Bakugou’s hands. “The other half is going to Itsuka Kendo, the new solo artist. She’s going first, and then we’re up.”

“We planning on singing from a particular era?” Bakugou asked, focusing more on the set list rather than the conversation.

“They don’t want us singing our songs,” Mina replied, causing both you and Bakugou to choke on air. “They want us to cover popular music.”

“We have no idea why, though. It’s kind of stupid, if you ask me,” Denki complained, walking in with Kirishima and Sero hot on his tail.

Upon their entrance, the boys came over to give you a hug and congratulate you on the earlier show. It went off without a hitch, and they insisted they give you credit since it was due. However, when a question about you and Bakugou running off came up, Bakugou immediately stepped in and said he wanted to jot down some lyric ideas. A game of playful banter began and went on for about 5 minutes before Shinsou entered the room.

“Well, it’s good to see that our fill-ins are ready for tonight,” he chuckled, walking over to place a hand on Denki’s shoulder. “You guys ready?”

“Obviously,” Bakugou grinned. “How bad can it be? We’re just performing covers. It’ll be just like the old days.”

Immediately, your first performances and venues came to mind. Run-down bars and covers were normal for a few months before getting signed on by Shouta Aizawa, president of 1-A Records. After that, you were able to write your own music and live your dream.

“Yeah,” you chimed in, moving closer to Bakugou, “we can perform the last cover set we did before we got signed.”

“Hell yeah!” Kirishima yelled, pumping his fist in the air. “The Bad Romance Set was always my favorite.”

Everyone was in agreement. Shinsou trusted you all enough to bid you farewell for a few hours before you were called back on stage. The Bad Romance Set was, simply, the best cover set The Chaos Crew ever played. It was a tribute to Lady Gaga, and it celebrated her amazing career. Mina was the Beyoncé to your Gaga on Telephone. Kirishima was the killer guitarist during Shallow. Bakugou was the best drummer on the planet during Bad Romance, the huge finale piece of the set. It was the perfect set to get the crowd hyped and into the show.

Soon enough, the show was about to start. Itsuka was on her last song, a personal tribute to her ex-boyfriend. You were gussied up in all black, sporting a short mini skirt, a low-cut shirt, and a leather jacket. It was perfect. You looked like you could kill anyone that crossed your path, and you probably could. It only attracted your boyfriend even more to the prospect of getting handsy before the show.

“Come on, sexy,” he growled, kissing under you ear. “Let’s do it. We’ve got a few minutes.”

“No,” you responded, pushing him away. “We have to stay focused. You know our ground rules.”

Rolling his eyes, he kept trying and trying and trying. After denying him multiple times, he smacked your ass before sulking away to sit at his drum set on the dark stage. Once he did that, the rest of your bandmates followed his lead and walked on stage. The lights went up, causing the crowd to lose their minds over your presence. Glancing back at your boyfriend, you nodded your head to signal him to start the first song.

The act went wonderful. When you sang to the audience, you could tell the hardcore Gaga fans from the fakes. However, no one seemed disappointed in the set. Everyone thought it was fun and easy to dance to. It was very clear, though, that everyone was waiting on one song: Bad Romance. After 25 minutes of Gaga hits, you glanced back at Bakugou and nodded your head again.

Once the drums began for the final song, the rest of the band chimed in to start the melody. Immediately, the crowd recognized it and sang the opening verse with you. Mina chimed in with her amazing voice to layer your vocals. Sero and Denki had the electric guitar and synth timed perfectly with one another, which only added to Kirishima’s bass. Bakugou, of course, played his drums with passion and never took his eyes off of you.

Once the first bridge of the song arrived, your bandmates began growing with excitement. Your singing ability was always incredible to them, but the first time you nailed the added high note in the final chorus of Bad Romance, they knew you would be their lead vocalist. The moment was fast approaching, and you took the mic from the stand.

Finishing up the second bridge, you walked around to personally serenade each of your bandmates. First, Mina and you made sure to twirl each other, causing her to chuckle just a bit. You sauntered over to Denki, jamming out on an air guitar to compliment his real one. Next, Sero was graced with your presence, and he added a riff to impress the crowd. Kirishima was surprised, and you both exchanged flirtatious winks at one another. However, these actions annoyed Bakugou to no end. His blood was boiling, and his jealousy was rising. He needed to show these extras exactly who you belonged to.

The final chorus began, and you arrived at Bakugou’s drum set. To tease the fans just a bit, you decided you were going to belt the high note right next to your boyfriend. Besides, this entire song was about him and you. This song was the most important one in the whole set because of that. You knew it would give the audience the best reaction and moment to capture on film.

I want your love, and all your lover's revenge You and me could write a bad romance Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh Caught in a bad romance

The crowd went wild. A constant chant of “(y/n)” was repeated over and over again and filled the venue. The end of the song was close, and Bakugou’s patience was running thin. You didn’t move, stuck next to his drum set. Whether you were trying to prove a point or your affection for him made his brain hurt. All he knew was that he couldn’t keep it a secret anymore.

“Want your bad romance,” you sang, finishing off the song as dramatically as possible.

Leaping out of his seat, Bakugou threw down his sticks and bounded over to you before wrapping his arms around you. He pressed his lips to yours, claiming you in front of everyone watching. You fumbled with the mic before successfully flicking the off switch and let it fall to the ground. You wrapped your arms around his neck, melting into him. He tapped your hip, signaling you to jump. You happily obliged, basking in the way his calloused hands gripped your thighs.

Screams filled the venue. Fangirls cried about the way Bakugou held you while others cried because he was holding you and not them. Paparazzi snapped as many photos as possible, hoping to capture the best photo that could be put up on TMZ. Parents tried to cover their children’s eyes because they thought the scene was so vulgar. Oh yeah, you guys were definitely going to be trending on Twitter.

In a flash, the lights went dark across the entire venue. The screams didn’t cease, even when an announcement came over the loudspeakers. It wasn’t heard the first time, probably since you and Bakugou broke everyone there. However, speaker volume could be raised, and the announcement could be heard through the crowd on the second try.

“Attention festival guests,” the lovely voice began, “tonight’s performances are over. Thank you for attending the V.I.P. exclusive day. We hope to see you all tomorrow for the first official day. Have a wonderful night and stay rockin’!”

Before groans of protest could be heard, your band was escorted off stage and immediately into your limousine. Your were able to successfully avoid paparazzi, but that didn’t mean you and Bakugou were safe. You had your friends, and they were all nosy in their own ways.

“It was the photoshoot,” Kirishima began.

“Yeah! Come on, you wouldn’t stop glaring at Deku, Bakugou!” Mina grinned.

“We knew you both were together,” Sero smirked.

“Yeah, come on! You think we didn’t notice when you guys would run off to lock lips and do who knows what else?” Denki added on.

Bakugou was more than pissed off. After the onslaught of statements brought to the table, Bakugou effectively shut them up by yelling, “If any of you touch my girl, I’ll your kick your asses. Got it?”

“Whatever you say,” Kirishima replied, flashing a grin and a thumbs-up.

“Just use protection!” Mina reminded, forcing some questionable hand gestures and noises from Denki and Sero.

After 15 minutes of torture, the limo arrived at the five-star hotel. In a matter of seconds, Bakugou had opened the door and picked you up bridal style so he could carry you up to the room. You had all booked the penthouse, since the U.A. Festival was such a big deal. You each had your own room, but you figured you two might have free reign of the whole place for while due to Mina’s previous innuendo.

Once you arrived in Bakugou’s room, he plopped you down on the bed. Smirking at you, he removed his shirt and went to get something a bit more comfortable out of his suitcase. You couldn’t help but look at the beautiful muscles that adorned his body. It made you feel hot and a little flustered.

“Go change,” he commanded, turning around to face you again.

You chuckled and replied, “Oh, come on. You know me.”

You slipped off your leather jacket, bending forward just a bit to let him gaze at your cleavage. He licked his lips and threw down the extra shirt he had grabbed. Walking over to you, he roughly grabbed your hips and pulled your body into his.

Leaning forward, you smirked and whispered in his ear, “I already have the set on. Wanna help me get out of it?”

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pateldevs · 4 years ago

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Hi! I hope I'm not bothering you, but I love your mood board edits and was wondering if you could explain how you go about making/colouring them? I see lots of places to find gifs but turning them into a set is so hard. Thank you in advance!

hi! first of all thank you so much and second of all it’s not a bother at all! i am happy to give some of my own tips even if my explanation probably isn’t super helpful. i won’t give like a ps tutorial but below the cut (since i included example gifs, it’s VERY long) is my process for my latest jily aesthetic:

i keep track of all my ideas/sets in a spreadsheet (which i won’t show bc there’s a lot of info i’d have to blur/black out) but i always have a list of what scenes i need to gif/what gifs i’m editing and where i’m getting them from. i also include a couple extra ideas in case the gifs i have planned end up being too hard to color or don’t fit in the set. i’ve found it’s best/easiest to start w the list bc there is literally nothing worse than spending hours on a set and then not being able to complete it.

as for actually finding the material, i have a pretty healthy number of scene packs saved in my giffing folder, esp. for things i know i will gif frequently. most of the time i will peruse youtube, vimeo, and instagram for any aesthetic scenes. i also have a lot of gif packs saved specifically for the purpose of making mbs (usually i mix my own gifs w gif packs), if you msg me i’m happy to direct you to some gif packs i use regularly or you can check my #resources tag. a couple tips for finding material:

always opt for download when possible, i used to screen record and the difference when i switched to downloading was astronomical. (it’s easy to lose quality and esp if you’re on mac, quicktime duplicates frames so either you have to manually delete those extras or you get sort of choppy gifs when you load them into ps.)

always use 1080p or better, 720p will work in a pinch for 268px or 177px gifs since you can make up some of that resolution loss with sharpening, but don’t go any lower than that, just love yourself.

for pale sets, look for the right colors. i tend to look for scenes w high color contrast especially if it features poc so it’s easier to color without whitewashing, ie if the subject is a person then i look for light colored or blue/green/violet/white backgrounds. it’ll make your life wayyyyy easier. this also means if you’re making a set try to find scenes with already similar lighting bc you won’t have to work so hard to make it look cohesive.

here’s a quick rundown of what i do before coloring:

import all frames and save all the files in a folder together!!

play around with frame delay so all the gifs are moving at about the same speed, usually keep it between 0.03-0.05s

crop and resize gifs (i use 268x145 most of the time)

convert to timeline

when it comes to coloring it can be really hit or miss, i’ve recently gotten back into my groove but i was having sooo much trouble earlier this year. in general, don’t stress yourself out!! sometimes it’s easier to just find a new scene/gif (hence my list of extras!) than to try too hard to fit a gif into your set. i color all my gifs by scratch (ie no psds) but i tend to follow the same pattern, i’ll explain using these gifs/psd as an example since then i can also explain how to fix white-washing:

first off when you’re coloring gifs with poc always always always make a layer mask so you can compare the edited and unedited skin tones directly! i use the marquee tool to make a selection in the middle of the character’s face, select the folder of my adjustment layers, and hit ‘add vector mask’ (the third button from the left on the layers panel, it’s a white rectangle with a circle in it).

i almost always begin by using hue/saturation layers to highlight and delete certain colors. here i highlighted red and raised the lightness on yellow by a lot since it’s a very yellow scene. then i use a combination of brightness/contrast, levels, and curves layers to brighten the scene. here’s what i have now:

i add a gradient map set to black/white, change the blending to exclusion, and lower the opacity to between 5-10% (depending on the scene) to lighten the contrast further:

then i add back a little depth with selective color in neutrals and blacks:

now i have two main goals: 1. add contrast between the background and the subject, and 2. brighten the scene into a pale gif. to do this, i use color balance to tweak the color of the background, taking out the yellows. this step works best if there’s at least some shade difference between your subject and background, otherwise isolating the two will be impossible. here’s what i have after adding color balance:

i use hue/saturation to selectively highlight the background color. in this case i chose to adjust magenta and used the color picker (the first eyedropper on the left) to identify the exact shade i wanted to lighten. now i have a fairly neutral background and a colorful subject, which gives a sort of pale effect:

and now i use a curves layer and a selective color (white) layer to brighten further:

before i go further, i start fixing white-washing. keep in mind that some variance is normal since you are naturally changing the lighting of the scene; this gif shows it rlly clearly bc of how yellow and dim the lighting is, so some lightening is to be expected. however, both because the vector mask shows a lot of whitening and because i’ve giffed dev patel before and have a general idea of what he looks like in this type of lighting, i know what needs to be fixed, so i go back in under the psd/adjustment layers with a combination of selective color (red and neutral) and hue/saturation layers to darken his skin again:

now that some more contrast has been added in, i can go back to working on the psd and use curves and selective color to play around with the background again:

i use another hue/saturation layer and a black/white gradient to tone down oversaturation:

usually i leave those layers on top, so if i want to make any adjustments (like lightening the background more), i go in under those two. in this case i tweaked the whites and reduced the contrast a little to get this:

again, you can see his skin tone has changed from the original, but variation is to be expected given how much brighter the room is, the fact that i took out a lot of yellow lighting, and the brightening effect of the computer screen in front of him. some other things to keep in mind when coloring:

when you add layers to correct white-washing, you’re likely to end up with overly red/orange skin tones (red-washing). this can be fixed by upping cyans in the reds, desaturating/darkening the reds, or adding b/w or desaturation later on.

when in doubt, it’s better to be darker than lighter (the issue with white-washing is that it promotes colorism, and there is nothing inherently wrong with a darker skin tone) but really. just put in the effort to color poc correctly.

when changing the lighting a lot it helps to look at pictures of the subject in natural/bright lighting, since you get a better idea of what their normal skin tone is.

don’t try to squeeze all your selective color layers into one. you’ll get less grainy gifs if you separate them out and work one by one.

TURN OFF NIGHT SHIFT/NIGHT MODE! yes i KNOW it’s bad for your eyes (especially if you’re like me and gif at night, when the lighting outside isn’t changing every 20 seconds) but your gifs will look VERY different under f.lux or night mode compared to daytime screens. especially if you’re giffing at different times of day, blue light filters can really change the way your coloring appears. best to keep it consistent.

my sharpening settings vary depending on what i’m giffing but in general i do two layers of smart sharpen (500% with radius between 0.2-0.4, 10% with radius at 10px) and then gaussian blur at 2.5px and adjust the opacity so it’s somewhere between 15-20%. i try to strike a balance between smoothing out the graininess from selective color, and sharpening details like clothes and hair. here’s what i ended up with for the gif above:

then i rinse and repeat for the rest of the gifs in the set! i tend to start with the gifs that i know will be hardest to color, which is usually the darker ones (coloring is limited by how much i can brighten the scene) and those that include poc (again, limited by how much i can brighten and adjust the scene’s lighting without white-washing). then i check set cohesion as i go, using those first few gifs as benchmarks. once i have all 8 (or 9 or 10) gifs, i play around with composition and try to balance and vary the subject, colors, and composition of gifs next to each other. i go back and make a couple of adjustments here and there according to what i observe and what i think might improve the overall appearance.

and that’s pretty much it! i hope this was helpful, if you have other questions feel free to message me and i’d be happy to help/troubleshoot. happy giffing!

#Anonymous #*#resources #answered #sorry this was sO long but i hope it helped on the coloring end #tbh i exceeded my own expectations with the dev gif lol #yeahps #completeresources #chaoticresources #tutorial #coloring tutorial

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teamhappyme · 4 years ago

Text

a series of promising events (2/5)

aaron hotchner x female!reader

word count: 10.6k (yeah i have a spacing problem)

a/n: part 2 of this series is here! some dialogue, cases, and themes taken directly from criminal minds (S03 EP20, S04 EP01, & S05 EP08). originally, i had it planned to be 3 parts, but after editing, and looking at the word count, it makes more sense to be 5 parts. i don’t want to inundate you lovely people with massive word counts (even though 10k is massive) so this is the finalized count. because i finally got my shit together and finished this out, part 3 will be up wednesday morning, part 4 will be up friday morning, and the final part 5 will be up sunday morning. thank you to everyone who showed some love for part one, and thank you to anyone else who stumbled across my crazy writing and read along!

at the end, I’ve tagged the peeps that interacted with part 1. if you don’t want to be tagged for the other parts, just let me know :)

ok enough of my rambling inner monologue, here we go friends!

link to part 1: here

****

May 2008

We were in New York, investigating what started out as five connected shootings in the city. After twelve hours, we were up to nine fatalities.

We delivered the profile at nine thirty, finally satisfied with the outcome after a day's worth of combing over crime scene photos and witness statements. Hotch didn’t want to waste another second, making sure the profile went out before the night shift went out to patrol.

“Now, our first theory is that we’re dealing with a team.” Derek started. “In the case of the D.C. snipers, there was actually one intended victim.”

“John Muhammad wanted to kill his ex wife, but he knew if he did, he’d be the prime suspect, so he created a spree in order to mask his primary motivation.”

Spencer added before turning to SSA Joyner. “Muhammad and Malvo also left a death card at one of their scenes, just like this unsub.”

“We believe our unsubs have studied that case. They’re opening a line of communication.”

There was an outpouring of judgement focused on us, since we were in charge of the D.C. snipers case as well. These unsubs know we’re here, and they’re trying to show they can outthink us.

“Yes, they are playing games. But what that tells us is at least one of them has some intelligence.” You tried to hold your ground, and not let their opinions get to you.

“And like I said,” Prentiss interrupted, ready to put these cops in their place. “They know these cases. He’s also studied the placement of the surveillance systems well enough to avoid detection.”

“We’ve asked officers to canvass their precincts, and look out for a father-son type of duo that fit the dominant-submissive profile.” Rossi had Reid hand out some gang related profiles, just in case the profile shifted. But we were pretty confident in our first go.

“Talk to the people on your beats, look out for anything suspicious. And let's pray that this isn’t random.” The detective in charge finished and let his precinct disperse.

“Hey y/n/n, we’re gonna head back in five if you want a spot in the fun suburban.” JJ teased and lightly shoved Spencer’s shoulder.

You smiled and started packing up your backpack. “Okay. Just, leave the fragile doctor alone.”

After packing up any files you wanted to review when you got back to the hotel room, you let Morgan and Rossi know the four of you were headed out. They weren’t much further behind with Prentiss and Garcia.

You met Reid and JJ in the lobby, droopy eyes and mouths full of yawns adorning the three of you. It was a long day, and it was only going to be worse tomorrow.

“Where’s Hotch?” You asked, ready to get your feet out of these narrow leather dress shoes. You were wearing your combat boots tomorrow.

“He’s checking in with the lady friend.” JJ nodded her head toward Hotch, who was conversing with Joyner in her office. They were standing close, and you thought you caught a smile on his face. “Do you think they’re into each other?”

“She looks like she could be Haley’s twin,” Spencer added and you sighed.

The moment the team arrived at HQ this morning, everybody noticed the resemblance to Hotch’s ex-wife. SSA Kate Joyner went pretty far back with our unit chief. They went through the academy together and had some assignments overlap over the years. If it were up to Morgan and Garcia, the two of them would be out on a date right now. But you and Rossi quickly quieted the rumors, not wanting to deal with the rage that was Aaron Hotchner if he knew we were discussing his love life.

It had barely been six months since Haley left with Jack, and Hotch had just taken off his wedding band a few weeks ago. He didn’t tell any of you until you all witnessed him getting served in the office. It slapped you across the face, especially since you’d just met Haley and Jack for a quick lunch a month and a half before. I guess she wanted Hotch to tell you when he was ready.

As much as you valued your three year friendship with Aaron Hotchner, you knew Haley deserved better. Hotch adored his wife and son, and would fight heaven and earth to keep them safe. Unfortunately, he was too busy fighting the demons from hell to be a present father and husband. Everyone had their breaking point, and Haley had hit hers. From what Hotch has told you, they’re still amicable, and are trying to be friends again. After all, it wasn’t a lack of love that ended their marriage. It was a lack of prioritizing his family.

“Knock it off. He’s on his way over.” The three of you turned to one another, pretending to hold an intriguing conversation about one of Spencer’s magic tricks. Truthfully, you were always intrigued in his magic tricks; you never understood how he could pull endless quarters out of your ear. But that conversation would have to wait for another day.

“Ready to go?” Hotch pulled the keys out of his pant pocket, and the three of you nodded as Spencer called shotgun. A smile crossed your lips, never getting over the jovial things Spencer loved to claim when his intellect wasn’t needed to solve a case.

The fifteen minute ride to the hotel downtown was silent. You were all exhausted, emotionally and physically, sick of having to watch people die over and over again.

The four of you made it into the lobby, tomorrow morning’s papers already spread across the table. “The late edition didn’t miss a beat.” You said and picked up one of the papers, the headline reading ‘Execution Style’ with a still from one of the murders. You showed it to Hotch and he shook his head.

“I’m glad I never stooped to this level when I was publishing.” You murmured, reading the first paragraph of the article.

“JJ,” Spencer started and pointed across the lobby, causing all of us to turn. It was Detective Will LaMontagne Jr., JJ’s adorably chivalrous Louisiana boyfriend.

“Will.” You could practically hear the smile on her face as she led the walk over to him.

He was supposed to fly into D.C. to visit JJ for the weekend, but came to surprise her in New York when he heard the news. Spencer and I shared a look as Hotch extended a hand to him.

“Detective.”

“I’m sorry for showing up like this, I know you’re working. But, um. I can’t stand you being on this case. And me not being here, not with what’s going on.”

JJ shook her head in the slightest, and you started to get nervous.

“Is there a problem?” Hotch asked, concern completely taking over his voice at the thought of any harm happening to his team. The couple shared a knowing look, and your patience was starting to run thin with the information being withheld. JJ meant the world to you, and you wanted to make sure she was okay.

Reluctantly, she turned to face you all, a shy smile covering her face. “I’m pregnant.”

Spencer looked over at you, not knowing how to react to the news. But you couldn’t help the smile widening on your face.

“Oh my god, JJ! Congratulations!” You wrapped your arms around her and she laughed, most likely out of relief. This was a secret she kept for a long time.

“I’ve asked JJ to marry me,”

“Will.” She cut him off as Hotch gave him a congratulatory handshake.

“We’re working out some kinks.” He added as Spencer was next to hug your blonde friend. A baby, in the BAU. You might have been more excited than JJ.

“We’ll, uh, give you both some privacy.” Hotch started towards the elevator, and JJ was quick to follow.

“Hotch,” She didn’t continue, you knew this wasn’t the exact situation she wanted to tell everyone she was having a baby.

“JJ, you could have told me.”

The tenderness in his voice could have broken your heart in two right then and there, but add on the fact that you swore you could see Hotch’s eyes tear in the slightest, you were done. You didn’t want to mention it in front of Reid, but you knew this had to do with Haley. You’d be an idiot not to notice.

The three of you filed into the elevator, leaving JJ and Will to talk in private. You all got off on the fourth floor, Reid’s room the first to come up in the hallway.

“Night Spencer.”

“Goodnight. Seven a.m.,” He reminded you as he opened the door with his keycard.

You and Hotch walked down another ten feet before he found his room.

“Goodnight,” He mumbled out and reached for his key.

“Hotch,” He closed his eyes, nodding his head in the slightest.

“I’m tired, y/n.” You could’ve pushed harder. You could have gotten him to crack if you started nagging enough. You’d earned the title as baby sister from the team since you could whine and nag them into doing anything. But tonight didn’t seem like a good time for your skills.

You nodded, understanding this conversation wasn’t going to happen.

“Goodnight. Get some sleep.”

Despite your best efforts, you didn’t sleep a wink. Hotch had gone over his files and called for Kate to meet him in the lobby. But then there was an explosion, and you had to watch from your window as Hotch sat by Joyner, waiting for her to die.

Once the team had caught the second unsub and wrapped everything up at the precinct, you headed to the hospital to check on Hotch. And unsurprisingly, he was refusing any further treatment for the ringing in his ears he tried to deny. You saw him kick Rossi out of the room, the third member that couldn’t get through to him.

“Bobo, why don’t you give it a try. Can’t yell at the baby with a broken arm.” You were the one to tackle the unsub, and landed pretty hard on the pavement downtown. Nothing a black cast covered in smiley faces from Spencer and Garcia couldn’t fix.

“I know you can’t tell, but I’m flipping you off right now.” You responded to Morgan as you raised your casted hand toward him.

You headed to Hotch’s room, knocking on the window before you walked in.

“I swear to god if you try to put me in another MRI,” He started to raise his voice when you interrupted him.

“Shit, I should go tell Morgan he was wrong. Boss is willing to yell at the baby with a broken arm.”

He turned around to face you, the lines on his forehead disappearing once he saw it was you and not Rossi.

“What happened to your arm?” You smiled and glanced down at the cast. “Just another day on the job. Tackled the unsub, the pavement was not very kind to me.”

He sat on the edge of the bed, trying to put his tie back around his neck. You scoffed, stepping over to him.

“Why the hell would you want to put that back on?”

“Because it’s part of my suit.”

You knew better than to pull it out of his hands. He was holding on to any semblance of control, and his outfit was all that he had left. Instead you took a seat in the stiff chair across from him, watching as he grimaced every time he lifted his arms too high.

“If your goal is to get me to stay another minute here under observation, you’re not gonna win.”

You shook your head. “That’s not my goal.”

He sighed, giving up on putting his tie on. He moved to finish his top button, he was at least going to be covered.

“You should be excited for JJ.” You started, testing the water on this subject.

“Did I suggest otherwise?” He asked and you shook your head.

“When was the last time you saw Jack?” His eyes widened the slightest, and you regretted asking the question. You gripped the arms of the chair, ready to be ripped a new one.

Instead, Hotch let out a sigh, and you snapped your head up. “Two weeks. Haley went to visit her mother for a week, and then we went from Florida to New York in three days.”

He was already away from Jack half the week when they were still living under the same roof. Now he was lucky if he got to say goodnight on a weekend.

“Why don’t you take some time off? I’m sure you have weeks saved up. I’ve been here three years and have never seen a tan on you.”

He shook his head. “Strauss would never approve of it.”

“Hotch,”

“Y/n, I really want to get out of this hospital room and call my son.” You shook your head, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Fine. But you’re not flying home. You have a choice between Morgan and Rossi to drive you home. My recommendation would be Morgan, you don’t want to sit through four hours of Opera music.”

You stood up, refusing to meet his eye. You were sick of dealing with stubborn men.

“I’ll see if they can fax your records to D.C. before we leave.”

He muttered out a thank you as you left the room, shaking your head at the rest of the team.

“Nothing?” Morgan asked as you returned to them.

“Nothing. Even the baby gets yelled at.” Spencer spared you a glance and you gave him a small smile. You would be fine. “And Derek, you’re driving him back.”

***

January 2010

You didn’t think it could get worse than seeing Hotch with nine stab wounds at the hands of Foyet. You desperately wanted to believe that it couldn’t be worse than that. But you were naive to think that he would let Aaron survive and not make him suffer.

None of you would be able to erase the image of Haley’s bloody body lying in the home where she and Aaron created their family. You wouldn’t forget the sight of Hotch beating into Foyet’s face, or the sobs that raked through his body once Derek had shaken him off. This was a tragedy that shaped the entire team.

After Haley’s death, the seven of you took turns checking in on Hotch, Jack, and Haley’s sister Jessica. She stayed close by when Hotch was on leave, helping him with Jack’s routine, and how to explain to the four year old where his mommy went. She moved back into her apartment a few blocks away before Aaron returned to work. He wanted to prove to her that he could do this on his own, that he could be the strong father that Jack deserved, and that Haley would be proud of.

While the three of them were together, the team would try and make it over every Saturday for dinner. Hotch needed to be around friends, and Jessica needed a guilt free night to spend with the people that made her feel good. He was reluctant at first, not wanting us over the apartment, complaining that it was a mess, and it was too small to fit everyone. But it was impeccably neat, the result of a widow not being able to sleep. Once he became comfortable with us coming around on Saturday’s, we’d pick two weeknights to stop by with a dinner, movie, or game to help take their minds off of the pain. Although you and JJ stopped by every friday regardless of whose week it was, Hotch really appreciated the extra company, and so did Jack.

Despite his attempts at being independent, there were one too many distressed calls being made to you or JJ if he couldn’t get a hold of Jess, or if he didn’t want to burden her with the responsibility.

Your feelings about Jack Hotchner hadn’t changed in the four years since you met him. You would still do anything to see the adorable little boy smile. So, it was easy to say that you didn’t mind the late night phone calls worrying about Jack’s stuffy nose or when he should take the chicken out of the freezer without it going bad. Because the more he reached out to any one of you, the closer he was to finding a new normal.

However, all of you were surprised to see SSA Aaron Hotchner in his office only a month and a half after the event. Sure, he made remarkable progress, but you all assumed he would take a little more time, maybe take Jack on a well deserved vacation. Instead, you walked into the office on a monday morning, Hotch the first one in attendance.

That was two weeks ago.

The readjustment period had worn off, and Hotch was back to being a drill sergeant. Even more aggressive than he was before.

The case we were working was local, saving us the discomfort of sleeping in a hotel bed. We were in Virginia, investigating two murdered families, similar to ‘The Fox’.

“Who?” You asked, not familiar with the creepy nickname.

“Four years ago Karl Arnold, aka the fox, killed eight families.” Derek informed you. It must have been just before you started at the BAU.

“Similar to this case he took the father’s wedding rings, except in his case he took them as trophies.” Spencer finished.

“Hotch, you gave evidence at Arnold’s trial. I think you should go see him.” Derek was acting unit chief since before Haley’s death, and continued his position even with Hotch’s return. Strauss was weary now more than ever to give Aaron the title back so quick.

“I’d like to take l/n with me.” You looked over to Hotch, his eyes resting on yours, waiting for your approval.

You gave a small nod, placing your sunglasses over your eyes. “Okay. Let’s go.”

Hotch got the keys to a suburban and before you could meet him at the car, Prentiss pulled you back.

“Hey, are you sure you’re okay with this?” She was always looking out for you, heck she was the one that made you pack extra barf bags for crime scenes. She knew meeting face to face with a family killer would do a number on you. But Hotch can’t face this guy on his own. Not after what happened.

“I’m good. Not the first time I've interrogated a psychopath.” She reluctantly nodded.

“Okay. Just, let Hotch take the lead.”

You gave her arm a squeeze. “I will. Let’s find this guy.”

The ride to Red Onion Supermax was a short and quiet one. Hotch filled you in on the particulars of Arnold’s case, making sure you knew it inside and out. This was a team effort after all.

You couldn’t get a clean read on Hotch, however, on the ride over. He’d yet to crack a true smile or laugh in the weeks he’d been back, which normally wouldn’t be so out of character for him. But Reid had been trying to get him to crack with every magic trick he knew, even agreeing to let Derek joke about his lack of childhood and understanding of pop culture. But nothing worked.

It worried you to see the regression he’s made since coming back. You knew how happy he was at home with Jack, that a smile crossed his face most of the day when he was playing legos with his son. You hoped he was here because he wanted to be, not because he felt like he had an obligation to the team or the Bureau.

“Karl has a big ego. He’s going to answer every question with a question. He’ll try to gain the advantage with me by asking why I’m not wearing my wedding ring.” You looked down at his left hand, the gold band that you noticed on your first day, now gone, along with the woman he loved. “And then he will turn his attention to you.”

“So that’s why you brought me along.”

“Your presence will throw him off guard. And he’s going to want to describe to you in graphic detail every sexual act he committed with the families.”

“To freak me out?” Because you haven’t even met this sick bastard and you were certainly already freaked out.

Hotch met your eye, and you knew this was only going to get worse. “To pull you into his fantasy.”

The guard radioed for the gate to open, and you tried to contain the tremors in your hands. This was a wing of psychotic sexual sadists, they would pick up on your nervous ticks.

You looked to Hotch once the gate opened, and he nodded for you to go in.

“Go ahead.” You followed the guard in, surprised at the lack of noise you were welcomed with. “Keep your eyes forward. More than anything he’s going to want to see images of the children.”

“We can’t give him that.” You argued, as you started to hear the men from their cells.

“We have to give him something or we’ll get nothing from him.”

You’d kept your breathing under control the entire walk down the hallway, until a man crashed against the glass, causing you to flinch and spare a glance.

“Isn’t that, uh,-”

“Derek Payne.” He finished for you, his eyes still straight ahead.

“It’s reinforced glass.” You scoffed. Of course he wasn’t worried about another man ripping him apart.

“Easy for you to say, he tore apart fourteen women.”

The door opened to the interrogation room, and this time Hotch entered first. You were met with Karl Arnold, red bushy hair and a beard to match. He was average height, and a little stocky, not what you pictured him to look like.

“Hello Karl,” Hotch greeted him as we settled in on the other side of the table.

“Agent Hotchner,” He stood. “I wasn’t informed you were bringing a, uh,” He glanced at you, looking you up and down before turning back to Hotch. You really regretted wearing a white silk top with your dress pants today. “They just said two agents.”

“This is Agent-”

“Y/n, l/n.” You tried to control the dilation of your eyes as he looked right through you. “I know all about you.”

Now you understood why Emily asked you if you were sure about this. He kept his eyes on Hotch as he started the interrogation, never looking you in the eyes longer than a second. Even if you directed a question toward him, he would only answer to Hotch. He was a misogynist. You don’t know why you’re so surprised at this discovery, he tortured wives and families.

When he offered up his book of dialogue between him and his fans, he smelled your perfume as you reached across the table to grab it. Hotch quickly took it for you, letting you sit back down in your seat. Your gut was no longer in your stomach, it was lodged in your throat.

“How’d you lose your ring, Agent Hotchner?” It was beyond your level of profiling to understand how Hotch could just sit there and take the assault on his personal life from a man who ruined families, especially with what he’d just been through. You’d never mastered the art of compartmentalization quite like Hotch. But right now, you were thankful for your uncontrollable emotions.

“I can look past your refusal to answer my question, if you let me see the children. It’s the only way I can truly help you.” You gripped the files harder at the mention of the victims and looked at Hotch.

“Can I speak with you for a second?” He nodded and the two of you stood.

“Is there something wrong, y/n?” You bit back the sarcasm that was threatening to fall from your mouth.

“Nothing’s wrong, Karl.”

You exited the interrogation room, still clutching the files close to your chest.

“We cannot show him these.”

He looked at Arnold, who seemed to find your eyes, even through the reflective mirror. “These images will be his undoing and will lead us to the killer.”

“These are not just images.”

“That’s exactly what they are.”

“Hotch, I am not about to parade a dead twelve year old girl in a bathing suit in front of a serial killer who gets off on it.” You raised your voice, not willing to compromise any respect you had left for these victims.

“Then show him the others. It’ll gain his trust and get him talking. He won’t talk to me, he knows I know everything that gets him off. But he’ll want to tell you just what he would do to them. I told you, he wants to pull you in.”

You shook your head. “These are children! Helpless children whose fathers have to live with what this animal did to their families! These strangers do not get to see the torture and humiliation that they went through.”

“If you can’t stomach showing him what he desires, then I’ll do it. Because we’re not leaving until we get a name out of him. You’re either with the team or you’re not.”

You scoffed. “You’re not the unit chief anymore. I do what Morgan says if we can’t come to an agreement.”

It was bold of you to remind him of his subordinate place. But you were equals now, despite the decade between you two. You didn’t have to listen to his orders if you felt they were wrong.

He reached for the files, but you turned away from him. “I’m going in there. Not you. But I’m going to run the interrogation my way, not exposing these children. If you have a problem with that, you can call Morgan.”

You motioned for the guard to let you back in. You took your seat across from Karl, a smirk still evident on his face.

“What, no Agent Hotchner?”

“You know, yours was one of the first cases I studied,” You started, trying to loosen up the muscles in your face. Going against every natural instinct in your body was making it hard to relax. “I’ve been fascinated ever since. I wanted to tell you sooner, but I was embarrassed with him in the room.”

“You’re embarrassed because you want to know what I did, don’t you.” You pushed out a smile, a little giggle behind it to entice him.

And of course it did. “Yes.”

“I can show you exactly what I did to them.”

“Tell me.” You tilted your head to the side, pushing some hair behind your ear. You were fighting the bile rising in your throat with every word you exchanged with him.

“Children are so precious, so clean. But they need guidance, especially the girls.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Why?”

“Girls have much more to lose than boys. It’s a fact, the female body can handle pain much better.” If this wasn’t a serial killer across from you, you’d agree with him and make some jokes about the female anatomy. But he was enjoying this, just like Hotch said. He was pulling you in.

“What did you do to them?”

He smiled. “I showed them, what men, their fathers, and brothers, are capable of.”

“And what is that?”

“Once I killed the children, It always amazed me how little the father fought the inevitable, the dying.”

“I never thought I would get these answers, let alone from the man himself.” You pushed out another smile, because you knew he was holding back. He was almost willing to trust you, he just needed to be groomed a little more.

“It takes a good woman, to make an honest man. And you’re prettier than Agent Hotchner.”

He was dancing around the information now, knowing that he had your time and attention. “Karl, do you know why you killed all those families?”

“I already told you why.”

You dropped the sweet tone, and pushed up on your elbows. “No, you told me how. And your motivations were all driven by sex, motivations you learned from your father.”

You saw him flinch, and you knew you were getting somewhere.

“You assert your dominance by making the father, the head of the household, watch you torture, assault, and take anything you wanted from the people he’s supposed to protect. Now your admirer, they don’t have the same ambitions as you do. And normally, that would bother a man like you. You want to be adored for every single part of your mess. But like you said, they’re an admirer, not a fan. So I’m guessing it’s a woman, who you’ve really come to care for.”

He tugged on his shackled wrists, you clearly got what you were looking for.

“Those women, those girls, they needed to be taught a lesson. How to obey who’s in charge. And you,” he laughed as he inched as far across the table as he could. “The things I would do to you if I weren’t nailed to this table. You’d be done before I could call your name.”

Before you could respond, Hotch came into the room, demanding a name. You stood up, no longer needing to play a role.

“It must be distracting, working with such a beautiful woman everyday.” You didn’t spare him another glance as you heard him mumble out a name to Hotch, finally getting what he wanted: power over you.

“Morgan, we’ve got a name. It’s a female guard in intake. Get everybody here ASAP.” The guard led you and Hotch back down the hallway, through the lion's den, and back to the elevator. Once inside, you let out a breath. Hotch turned to look at you, but you spoke up before he had the chance.

“Don’t ask me to do that ever again.”

You would’ve yelled at him, tore him to pieces in the elevator ride from the fourth floor to the exit, but there was a guard escorting you out. You didn’t want him to have the privilege of watching two FBI agents battle it out. And honestly, you weren’t sure if you had the heart to yell at him after all he’d been through.

But once you were escorted through the exterior gates, your team in sight, you regained the nerve to give Hotch a piece of your mind.

Not before he spoke first though.

“You did exactly what needed to be done. I didn’t ask you to act that way toward him, and I’m sorry you feel that that was your only way in. But I’m not going to apologize for getting the name of the killer.”

“So you would have acted in the same degrading way if the roles were reversed?”

He scoffed. “Yes, I would have. Because unlike you, my feelings don’t impair my judgement or ability to do this job. You’re an asset to this team, you need to find a way to get your emotions in check.”

You stopped walking, turning around to face him. You were in the middle of the driveway now, SWAT and BAU canvassing the scene. But you were going to do this here and now.

“The only reason you brought me here was to appeal to that sick son of a bitch. The only thing that makes me an asset to you is the fact that I have a vagina and you don’t. You turned me from a Supervisory Special Agent into a fighting fuck toy! You watched as I drained every ounce of respect I had for myself to turn into what that psychopath desired, all because I wouldn’t show him pictures of innocent children.” He looked over your shoulder to the team, embarrassed that they were hearing this. “At least have the respect to look at me while I’m talking to you!”

Hotch had never heard you yell like this. You were the calm one, the baby, as Derek called you. No one ever pushed you so far over the edge to get a reaction out of you. At least, not until he did.

“The next time you ask me, JJ, Prentiss, or Garcia to flirt our way into a serial killer's mind, to expect us to degrade ourselves in order to save another woman, I will not hesitate to report you to Strauss.” You could hear footsteps behind you, but you continued on as tears started to form in your eyes. “You used to say that my empathy was what made me an amazing agent. That my ability to connect with victims and families was the reason I’m here. So do not try and make me feel worthless for possessing something that you wish you could have. Because the way you act, with no capability for empathy, is a depressing way to live.”

“Y/n,” Spencer rested a hand on your shoulder, but you shook it off.

“Figure out the man you want to be.”

Before you could say anything else, Spencer dragged you away from Hotch and towards the cars. You could feel the tears freely falling down your cheeks, but you made no effort to remove them. You ignored the stares from the rest of your team, not giving them the satisfaction of knowing what went down in that interrogation room. Instead, you got into the passenger seat of the suburban, and Spencer started the drive back to the office.

Rationally, you knew you went off too hard at him. He never deliberately asked you to flirt with Arnold. He asked you to show him the pictures of Lucy, to get him to crack under the fantasy. But you refused. You would rather make yourself go through that pain than any young child. It’s what you’d always done.

Spencer tried to convince you they hadn’t heard the conversation. That they were all too focused on SWAT’s apprehending of the guard to pay attention.

“Spence,” You started and looked over at him. “We all had our earpieces in. You heard every word.”

And he was silent the rest of the ride back. You were exhausted, and you wanted nothing more than to go home and fall asleep on your couch with reruns playing in the background. But you had a mountain of paperwork to finish, and still needed to debrief when the team got back.

Halfway through your stack, the team came back to the bullpen. Prentiss gave your shoulder a comforting squeeze as she passed by, heading for her desk. Derek had agreed to let everyone go home without debriefing. This was the earliest we’d been done with a case so close to home. We needed to capitalize on our rest.

JJ was the first to go home, excited to be home in time for dinner with Will and Henry. Prentiss and Rossi followed shortly after, going to celebrate the win of this case at an expensive restaurant, at Dave’s expense.

“Come on you two, don’t make me drag you out of here kicking and screaming.” Derek addressed you and Reid as he pulled his coat on.

“We’re right behind you boss man.” Spencer said and turned his desk light off, grabbing his cane. He should be able to ditch all mobility aids soon.

You swung your backpack over a shoulder and turned off your own light. You didn’t even make it out of your four foot space before Hotch called out to you.

“Y/n, could I see you before you leave?” He was standing in front of his office, on higher ground than the rest of us. Power move, you thought to yourself. But he wouldn’t be that petty.

You looked back to Reid and Moran, the former nodding to you before seeing himself to the elevator. Now it was just Spencer, his eyes begging for you to leave.

“I don’t need to remind you how deeply you care for all of us. But if you keep putting yourself out there to comfort him, you’re going to get destroyed.” This was the first time Spencer had mentioned this to you. Sure, you’d been helping Hotch out at home, a little more than normal, but everybody was pitching in. His wife died for god's sake.

“Spence, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He let out a sigh and fidgeted with his cane. You found it at a consignment shop on one of your weekends off, and bought it for him without hesitation. It had an eagle engraved in it’s clutch, something regal, medieval, and screamed Spencer Reid. You ignored the price, a forty dollars more than you would’ve liked to spend on a walking stick, but the look on his face when you gave it to him was priceless.

“You need to stand up for yourself. Nothing excuses the way he treated you today. Regardless of your decision to play a character.”

God, could he read you.

“No pair of rose colored glasses could cloud that. Not even yours.” He gave you one last shadow of a smile before limping his way to the elevator.

Once you regained your composure, you turned to make your way up to Hotch’s office. He was sitting in his chair, staring at the paperwork waiting to be filled out before him. You knocked on the open door, and he stood up without even looking at you. You were going to take Spencer’s advice and stick up for yourself, so you had to set the pace.

“Can this be quick? I wanted to get home before traffic started up.” He rounded the front of his desk, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he leaned against it.

“I’m sorry for the way I treated you back at the prison.” You nodded, not wanting to verbally accept the apology that was due to you hours ago. “I was out of line and completely blinded by the case. I should’ve listened to you and taken your reservations into consideration. It was narcissistic of me to think I was the only one capable of making the right decision.”

“Thank you.” You stuttered out, still absorbing the tone of his voice. His word choice was self deprecating, a cry for help if you didn’t know any better.

“Y/n,” He started but was interrupted by a shaky breath. “I hate that I made you feel like all you’re good for is to romance your way into their heads. You deserve to be treated with respect, to be valued because of your empathy and your psychological understanding of victims and their families. If I’ve ever made you feel like you were worthless before this afternoon, please tell me.”

“No, you’ve never made me feel that way.”

He nodded before turning to grab a piece of paper from his desk.

“Good. Because I’ve written up a complaint for Strauss, describing my behavior and language directed toward you today. You shouldn’t have to wait for a next time to file it.”

He extended the paper to you, and you walked until you were standing in front of him, accepting the complaint into your hands. But you didn’t even read it before tearing it in two.

“What are you doing?”

“Hotch, I’m not filing a complaint against you. Everything that I did today was my choice. You didn’t force me into anything.”

He ran a hand through his hair, the first time you’ve seen it tousled in the office.

“I was uncomfortable showing Arnold those pictures. So I made the choice to play a character, to appeal to his fantasy. You weren’t in the room, and you didn’t suggest that. If anything, you tried more than anything to get me to stick to the script. Did you have some choice words for me that weren’t necessarily appropriate? Yes. But we all have our moments. After we got out of there, I felt sick that I had to do that to get a name out of him. It wasn’t the first time I’ve camouflaged myself for the greater good, and it won’t be the last. I took out the self hatred I had on you, because you were there. Because if I did it your way, I wouldn’t be able to look at myself in the mirror again without feeling ashamed. But you didn’t deserve it.”

“Yes, I do. I deserve to be ridiculed for telling you that your empathy is a weakness. I deserve to be ridiculed for yelling at Garcia for missing something on a search. I deserve,”

His voice broke, and you froze in place. You were about to see Aaron Hotchner cry for the first time in four years. “I deserve to be punished for Haley’s death.”

Your own eyes started to water as you saw a single tear roll down his cheek. Without thinking, you reached forward and held his hands in your own. They were shaking, and he tried to pull them away from you. But you held on tight, you weren’t going anywhere.

“Hotch, look at me.” He kept his gaze on the windows, looking out onto the concrete roof.

“Hotch, please.” You were quieter the second time, and that’s what got him to meet your eyes.

“I’m not going to sit here and tell you that you could’ve prevented Haley’s death if you did one thing instead of the other. Because no matter what you did, Foyet would’ve found her, and done this all over again.” He tried to look away from you, but you tugged on his hands, begging him to stay. “But what you did prevent, was Foyet taking away the greatest thing you and Haley ever made. You saved your son, Hotch. And you ended Foyet’s reign of terror. You get to spend every day reminding Jack how amazing his mother was. How strong, resilient, and fierce she was. How she looked death in the eye and didn’t even flinch. You get to live the rest of your life for your son.”

He nodded and closed his eyes, letting the few remaining tears fall down his face. You let your own fall with the reprieve of no longer being under his stare, not wanting to fall apart when he needed you.

“I love her. I never stopped loving her. The divorce, it wasn’t because of that. It was because of this job.”

You squeezed his hands before letting them go, letting him wipe off his face.

“I know. And I know she never stopped loving you.”

You never thought you would get to this moment when you first met Haley. You let out a small laugh while remembering your first encounter, how pregnant and angry she was at Hotch.

“What?” You smiled and shook your head.

“I’m just remembering the first time I met her. She was pregnant, she called you a robot, and was cracking jokes left and right to try and get you to crack.”

That got him to smile. “I could always make her laugh when we were younger. She had the funniest, most embarrassing laugh. But it was Haley. And it was addicting.”

You wanted him to remember her like this, with a smile on her face and the loving soul she was.

“I truly am sorry for what I said to you, but you have to know I didn’t mean it.”

You nodded. “I know you didn’t. Just apologize to Garcia in the morning, and get home to Jack. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He gave you a small smile as you picked up your backpack.

Spencer’s words stung in your ears while you were holding Hotch’s hands. You loved everyone on this team as your family. And Hotch needed you to be there for him a lot more over the last two months. Sure, you’d brushed off some harsh conversations with him considering the circumstances, but you knew when it went too far, like today.

“Y/n,” His voice pulled you from your thoughts, stopping you at the door. “Thank you.”

You nodded. “Of course.”

Maybe you did care too much for people. But if it helped them get back to normal, you’ll continue wearing those rose colored glasses a little while longer.

***

March 2010

“I’m grocery shopping. Because I have no food in my apartment and I never thought I’d say this, but I’m sick of eating pizza.” You threw a box of cheerios in your cart, careful not to hit the eggs on their way in.

“That’s how you’re spending your saturday? Our first saturday off in a month?”

“Well, unless I want to spend another twenty bucks on one meal, I’ve gotta do my grown up chores.” “You need to get your butt back home so we can go out and drink.”

Emily was relentless, to say the least. Every single weekend you had off, her number popped up on your phone the minute you got home. She hated resting in her own solitude, and tried to drag you along for any activity she could think of. Shopping, drinking, walking around the national mall, and, in desperate cases, running. But her record wasn’t stellar in getting you to attend.

“I’m spending the afternoon with my couch, a book that has taken me too long to read, and probably eat an entire bag of smartfood.” You chucked a box of granola bars in your cart too when you heard a kid cry. You turned to the end of the aisle, but the parent was blocking the child. “Besides, it’s dinner tonight at Hotch’s.”

“He canceled this morning. Rossi was supposed to call and let you know.” You rolled your eyes. Of course Dave forgot.

“Daddy! I want the poptarts!” You heard the kid yell out again. But you knew that voice, and you couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face.

“Em, I’ll see you on Monday. Have a shot for me.”

“I’ll have two.”

You laughed as you hung up the phone, pushing the cart over to your favorite little boy on the planet. You didn’t think to give the father another glance when you didn’t recognize him, but that’s because Aaron Hotchner is never without a suit at the office. He was dressed in jeans now and a quarter zip, looking like a normal dad.

When you approached the two boys, Jack was leaning against the shelf, tears streaming down his cheeks as he kicked his feet against the ground.

“It looks like SSA Hotchner could use some help profiling his son.”

Hotch was quick to stand up, meeting your eye. You only smiled while crouching down to Jack’s level.

“Hey little man, what’s the problem here?” He wiped the tears from his cheeks, and your heart broke at the redness in his eyes.

“Daddy won’t let me get any pop tarts.”

“That’s because you ate the whole box in one day without my permission.” Aaron argued back.

You hid your laugh in your shoulder, not wanting to upset Jack any more. But Hotch had already caused him to spiral into a meltdown again.

“Jack, have you ever had ants on a log?” He shook his head, tears continuing down his chubby cheeks. “Well, they were my favorite snack when I was little. It’s celery, peanut butter, and raisins all set up on a plate. And the best part is, you get to make it yourself! Now, I know how much you love peanut butter, and I bet if you ate this snack, Daddy will let you get poptarts the next time you go grocery shopping.”

“Okay.” He said and nodded his little head. “But I’m sick of grocery shopping.”

“Me too buddy.” I sat down next to him. “I do not like having to walk up and down these aisles searching for food. So, why don’t we sit here while daddy finishes his list?”

You spared a glance at Hotch and his practically full basket. You knew he would be done in ten minutes if you stayed here with Jack.

“Are you sure?” Aaron asked and you nodded.

“‘Course. I don’t need food that bad anyway.” He sighed and made his way back to his carriage.

You pulled a piece of paper and a pen out of your purse and handed it to Jack.

“Aunt Jessica told me that you know how to write your name now. Can you show me?”

He sat up straight, laying the paper down on the floor. You watched as he made a loopy uppercase J, followed with big and small letters to spell out the rest of his name.

“That’s awesome buddy. What about your last name?”

“Hotchner!” He yelled out and you laughed.

“Yeah, let me spell it out for you.” You wrote it out on the paper and it took him a few minutes to copy down.

“You’re turn now, y/n.” He handed you the pen and you wrote your name down, saying the letters as you wrote them. Jack repeated you, and it made you laugh. You forgot that kids were such sponges.

By the time you finished writing Aaron and Haley’s names for Jack, Hotch was back with his cart. “Alright buddy, it’s time for us to go. We gotta let y/n finish her grocery shopping.”

“No! I want y/n to come home with us for dinner. She was helping me spell everyone's names!”

You smiled as you stood up, giving Jack a hand. “Maybe next time buddy. But you gotta get home to try those ants on a log.”

“Actually, we’re making pizzas for dinner, Jack’s saturday choice. You can come over, if you don’t have any plans already.” You’d never heard Hotch this nervous before. It made you laugh a little.

“I’d love to. Only if I get to put extra cheese on my pizza though.”

“Of course!” Jack exclaimed and you matched his smile.

“Awesome! I’ll let you two pay for all this food and I’ll meet you at your house okay?” Jack nodded before running to the front of the cart.

“You sure you don’t have any plans? I don’t want you to give up another saturday night at my expense,”

“Hotch there is nothing more exciting than spending my weekends with the cutest four year old on the planet.” He smiled, but you knew he still wasn’t convinced. “Besides, every other twenty-nine year old I know is in a stuffy club in uncomfortable clothes. This is much more my pace.”

He nodded, a small smile on his face. “Okay. We’ll meet you at the apartment in a half an hour.”

“Sounds good. See you soon Jack!” You waved to the little boy and quickly tried to finish buying the staples that could get you through a few days at home.

You got home and quickly put your food away, making sure everything that needed to be refrigerated was chilled. You switched your t-shirt for a long sleeve tee, opting for sneakers instead of boots. Comfort was the utmost importance on days off.

It took you twenty minutes to get to Hotch’s apartment from yours, arriving at five on the dot. You were known for, and proud of your punctuality. Hotch answered the door after two knocks, and you couldn’t help but focus on the noise of three different locks unlocking.

He greeted you with a slight nod of the head, button down replacing his quarter zip.

“Do you even own comfortable clothes?” “This is comfortable.” You rolled your eyes, as he took the poptarts from your hands, raising his eyebrow at you.

“Didn’t I just have this fight with my four year old son about not buying these?” He asked as he let you in the house.

“Yes, but I’m the fun dinner guest. I bring the treats for the children.”

He tried to hide the small huff of a laugh that escaped his lips, but you still caught it. “You will be the death of me.”

You let out a laugh as he led you into the kitchen, putting them away on the top cabinet. I reached for my hip and pulled my holster off, putting it on the counter.

“Do you have somewhere I can put this? Last thing I need is to drop it while I throw up my pizza dough.” He unlocked the drawer in his desk, placing it in there before locking it back up.

You heard tiny footsteps running down the hall. “Y/n! It’s pizza time!”

You smiled as he tugged at your legs. “I know! I’m so excited!”

“Alright buddy, you’re up first. Show y/n how we properly throw our pizza dough in the air.” Hotch pushed a step stool over to the counter, waiting for Jack to step up. The grin on the little boy's face was ginormous as he powdered his hands with flour, taking the small ball of dough Hotch separated for him.

The two of you were on either side of Jack, each ready to follow his lead in the process. “Ok, on the count of three. One, two, three!”

You spun the dough in your hands before throwing it in the air, watching it separate the slightest bit. Jack’s giggles filled the apartment as he let his dough fall onto the counter. Aaron shook his head, you could tell this part of the meal was always a struggle for the little boy.

You watched as Jack spread out the miniscule amount of sauce he wanted along his crust, topping it off with a mountain of cheese. You taught him the more cheese, the better, and he clearly still believed you. You added some pepperoni to your own oval shaped pie, unsuccessful in making a perfect circle crust. But, not everyone could be the perfect Italian chef like David Rossi.

While the pizza’s were in the oven, the three of you sat down to play a few rounds of Candyland. You hadn’t played since your time at DCFS, and you forgot how there was no real objective to the game. It certainly wasn’t your game of choice, but Jack was still a little young to be able to contend with you in a game of monopoly. A few more years, you thought.

Once the pizza’s were done, Jack helped you set the table as Hotch cut the pies. You felt a little out of place, crossing some very important boundaries by having dinner with just the two Hotchner boys. This saturday was much different than the ones you spent when the whole team was over, Henry and Jack putting on dance parties for the guests.

You started to become more aware of your actions around the apartment; how you knew where the placemats were kept, that Jack used his purple cup for milk at dinner, and the strict no electronics rule at the table. However, that had been established by Haley years ago. The thought of her had a shot of guilt running through your stomach, sitting down with her family for dinner, just three and a half months after she’d passed.

You’d been thinking a lot about what Spencer had said that night at the BAU. He was vague, too vague for the doctor that could tell you how long he’d been alive down to the second. After a few sleepless nights, you called the doctor in question and demanded he explain himself. But after his admission, you quickly regretted having all the information.

Spencer Reid has known you for almost five years now, and has seen you through the moments that have shaped your adult life. Killing Stephanie Moore, testifying in the fisher king case, being your excusing phone call from multiple dates, and holding your hand as you took in one of your former foster siblings from a bad relationship. There was absolutely nothing in your life that could be hidden from him.

So when he told you he noticed your feelings for Hotch ‘about two years ago’, you nearly stopped dead in your pacing tracks. Not because you didn’t know your own feelings for the man, but because you didn’t realize it had been that long. That he had been married to Haley, albeit only for a month longer, that you started to notice how handsome your boss was. Upon hearing the truth out loud, and from another person, you ran to the bathroom and threw up a few times.

You were so embarrassed, so ashamed of caring for someone that couldn’t be yours. For caring for someone who’s wife you truly adored. After the third round of puking, Spencer reassured you through the phone that it wasn’t your fault. We can’t control who we love. And yes, he said love.

“Are you okay y/n?” Jack’s little voice pulled you from your thoughts. You smiled at his sauce covered face and nodded.

“Yeah, I’m fine. How’s your pizza, Jack?”

“Awesome! Daddy is the best pizza cooker ever!”

“You sure you’re okay? You look a little pale,” Aaron commented and referenced your plate. You hadn’t taken a bite.

“I’m good, really. Just thinking about how I’m going to make a bigger lego tower than Jack after dinner.”

That got the little boy to laugh, successfully switching the conversation to Jack’s favorite toys. But you noticed the glaces Hotch snuck your way, not believing you for a second. You were an awful liar.

The longer the three of you sat at the table, the larger your smile grew around these boys. Seeing Hotch being able to relax and really enjoy his time with Jack always brought a smile to your face. He was a natural father, sliding into the role of playmate and swaddler, cuddler and soother. You even remember him helping JJ out with Henry’s swaddle at work one day.

But you knew he felt guilty, not being able to be present in his son’s life everyday. You saw it in the hundred’s of views of the video of Jack’s first steps, the late night phone calls while away on a case just to say goodnight to his little boy. He missed out on a lot of the baby years, and he would be making it up to Jack for the rest of his life, with nights like these. With the whole weekend devoted to Jack Hotchner’s favorite things, minus the sugary pop tarts. Hotch had mastered the duality of being a Supervisory Special Agent for the FBI, and the loving father to Jack Hotchner. It was one of the reasons why you started caring so much for him.

“Alright Jack, you can build one tower with y/n, then it’s bath time and off to bed.” You saw the pout on Jack’s face as Hotch cleared our plates, and you helped him off the chair.

“Come on, maybe if we’re quick enough we can make two.”

He giggled as he led you to his room, stuffed animals and toys galore. This boy won’t want for a thing.

“Okay, you make a big blue one, I’ll do purple.”

You finished much quicker than the four year old, but under no circumstances would he let you sit and watch him make his masterpiece. Instead, since you had nearly two and a half feet on him, you stacked your tower on top of his and continued adding pieces to make it bigger. He cheered you on as it started to reach your head, and you were getting excited yourself. Until, it came to a crashing fall with the last green piece on top.

“Noo!” Jack yelled out, trying to catch the falling pieces.

“It’s okay Buddy, you can always make another one.” Aaron’s voice trying to soothe his son caught both you and the little guy’s attention.

The two of you turned to see Hotch leaning in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest. You wondered how long he’d been standing there.

“And maybe next time, we can make one as big as daddy.”

Hotch let out a laugh as Jack smiled at you in amazement. He liked how your brain worked.

“Bath time, bud. We gotta get your face cleaned up from all that pizza sauce, and ship you off to bed.”

“But y/n’s here,” He whined, not wanting the lego fun to end.

“Well I have to get home and take a shower too, bud. Don’t worry, there’s plenty more playdates in your future.” You said and stood up, giving the little boy a high five.

“Go wait for me in the bathroom okay, I’m gonna walk y/n out.”

“Okay. Bye bobo.” He said and ran off to the bathroom, leaving you speechless in his bedroom.

“You let him be around Derek Morgan way too much.”

“Probably. But you can’t compete with the guy who brings over a new lego set every weekend.” Hotch got your gun for you, walking you back to the front door.

“Are you kidding? You’re his hero, Hotch. He asked me last week if I was a superhero like daddy.” He cracked a smile, but his eyes were glued to the floor, unable to meet your own.

“Why did you cancel dinner tonight?” He sighed and lifted his head. You’d been wanting to ask him since you were at the grocery store. The team had been coming over for three months now, and it was something we all started to look forward to.

“I was sick of feeling like a burden to you all. I mean, asking you all to give up your Saturday nights, sometimes our only free night of the week to spend in my depressing apartment, it had been enough.” If only you could show this man how much the team cared for him through your eyes, he would never doubt his worth another day in his life.

“Hotch, the highlight of my week is coming here to be with you all. My family. Watching Henry and Jack play with each other, listening to Spencer and Penelope fight over who the true godparent is, and getting to be on the receiving end of Rossi’s awesome cooking?”

He nodded, mumbling an ‘I know’ a few times under his breath. But he needed to know that as much as you all come here for Jack, you guys care for Aaron and his well being just as much.

“I come here every saturday to make sure that Aaron Hotchner has not dressed in a suit for the sixth day in a row, and to make sure he knows that he’s doing such an amazing job with Jack. That he is being the best father, friend, and boss, that he can be.”

This time, his eyes were locked on yours as you got a real Aaron Hotchner smile out of him, dimples and all. You couldn’t help but make a check mark in the air, the team tally still going strong. He playfully rolled his eyes as you swung your bag across your shoulder.

“So who’s in the lead now?”

“Me, for the last six months. I can’t be dethroned.” You felt your cheeks grow warm, hoping he wouldn’t think too much into your stat keeping.

“Well, that seems like a pretty accurate tally.”

You made sure it was. And selfishly, you hoped no one else could get that beautiful smile to cross his face like you could.

“Thank you for coming over. We both had a lot of fun.”

“I did too. I’m around anytime, my tower building skills are not occupied for many other people.” He let out a laugh as he opened the door for you.

“Goodnight y/n. Let me know when you get home.”

“I will. Night, Hotch.”

You got home in twenty minutes, texting Aaron as you walked through your door. Quickly changing into pajamas and throwing Legally Blonde into the DVD player, your phone dinged at a new message.

It was from Hotch, a picture attached to the message. It was of Jack, towel wrapped around his head, eyes shut from grinning so wide. ‘He wanted me to send this to you. He said, ‘this is how happy I am that y/n was here tonight.’ Thanks again for everything. Goodnight.”

You couldn’t help the tears that pooled in your eyes at the sweet little boy in the picture, and his amazing dad behind the camera.

****

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