#a necessary and inevitable response to outside circumstances

[wallaceandpestle]

don’t want to reblog the original post because i don’t want to cause problems on purpose but i’ve never felt more mentally ill than when i see posts like this

[eternal-echoes]

The poll

I don't think it's just that; I think more and more people are realizing that every child deserves a mother and a father and legalizing gay marriage deliberately deprives a kid of one of them. Orphans and children of single parents always long for their missing parents.

While there are unfortunate circumstances like death of a parent or divorcing an abusive spouse that makes it inevitable, ultimately since children are made through the biological union of a man and woman, their spiritual relationship with them should be preserved.

Since we're not just a material being, we're also of both body and soul. Not Cartesian dualism but Hylomorphism where the union of body and soul makes one nature.

The only two ways a gay couple can have a baby is either through surrogacy and/or adoption. Along with its ethical concerns with buying a baby, a gay couple taking a newly born baby from his/her mother is depriving that child with the much needed bonding time with the mother (i.e. breastfeeding, cuddling, etc). It's illegal to sell a puppy within 8 weeks of birth because it would be too cruel to separate it from its mother,* then how much more devastating would it be when it comes to a human child? And a child's need for a mother doesn't stop when he/she no longer needs to be breastfed, the mother is essential for the child's emotional maturity as well.

Here is a video of Ryan T. Anderson back in 2014. I'll highlight some important points but the whole video is really good.

Marriage exists to unite a man and a woman as husband and wife to then be equipped to be mother and father to any children that that union produces. It's based on the biological fact that men and women are distinct and complementary, it's based on the anthropological truth that reproduction requires a man and a woman, it's based on the social reality that children deserve a mother and a father. ... Marriage is the institution that different cultures and societies, across time and place, developed to maximize the likelihood that that man commits to that woman, and then the two of them take responsibility to raise that child. Part of this is based on the reality: there's no such thing as parenting in the abstract; there's mothering and there's fathering. Men and women bring different gifts to the parenting enterprise. Rutgers sociologist professor David Popenoe writes, "The burden of social science evidence supports the idea that gender differentiating parenting is important for human development and the contribution of fathers to childrearing is unique and irreplaceable." He then concludes, "we should disavow the notion that mommies can make good daddies, just as we should disavow the popular notion that daddies can make good mommies. The two sexes are different to the core and each is necessary, culturally and biologically for the optimal development of a human being." ... The impact of marriage. So why does marriage matter for public policy? Perhaps there's no better way to analyze this than looking to our own president, President Barrack Obama: "We know the statistics that children who grow up without a father are five times more likely to live in poverty and commit crime, nine times more likely to drop out of schools, and 20 times more likely to end up in prison. They're more likely to have behavioral problems or run away from home, or become teenage parents themselves. And the foundation of our community are weaker because of it." ... President Obama sums it up very well: what we've seen in the past 50 years since the War on Poverty began, is that the family has collapsed. At one point in America virtually every child was given the gift of a married mother and father, those numbers right now: it's more than 50% of Hispanics children are born outside of wedlock, more than 70% of African Americans are born outside of wedlock. And the consequences for those children are really serious. The State's interest in marriage is not that it cares about my love life, or your love life, or anyone's love life just for the sake of romance. The State's interest in marriage is ensuring that those kids have fathers who are involved in their lives. ... If the biggest social problem we face right now in the United States is absentee dads, how will we insist that fathers are essential when the law redefines marriage to make fathers optional? ... Think about the social consequences if that's the direction the slippery slope in which marriage redefinition would go. For every additional sexual partner I have, and for the shorter lived those relationships are, the greater the chances that I create children with multiple women, without commitment with either to those mothers or to those kids. It increases the likelihood of creating fragmented families and then big government will step in to pick up the pieces with a host of welfare programs that truly drain the economic prospects of all of our states. ... So for all those reasons this is why the State and all states have an interest in preserving the definition of marriage as a union, permanent and exclusive of a man and a woman.

Also an article supporting some of Ryan T. Anderson's points:

It’s worse to be raised by a single mother, even if you’re not poor.

The reason for this is that fathers tend to be the disciplinarian in the family. They provide the moral framework in his children's lives.

Reminder that even though the Catholic Church does not support gay marriage, it doesn't mean that she hates gay people. There is a ministry called Courage International where people with same-sex attractions are encourage to live chaste and holy lives.

*Original wording taken from here.

[horizon-verizon]

Alysanne is treated awfully by her husband, who is never once confronted by the narrative for his horrible behaviour. Who would rather risk her dying in childbirth than take any steps to prevent pregnancy as she requests, forces her beloved and mentally disabled daughter to be married off despite the obvious risk to her life and refuses to take responsibility when Daella inevitable suffers an awful death, and who values people of Alysanne’s gender so little that he completely goes against Westerosi custom by passing over his own granddaughter.

If Alysanne, powerless apart from what Jaehaerys deigned to grant her, helpless to stop her daughters being out at risk or to decide for herself to see Saera again, is GRRM’s example of a good queen, it’s pretty sad.

I understand the frustration, since again we never get more queens exactly like Rhaenys or Visenya and even here we may comment on how un-feminist or anti woman it is to not have them as "ideal" queens when Rhaenys died in the violence of war (the eradication of women in fiction) while Visenya enables a tyrant to rule...but really F&B and the Targaryens' history was not really supposed to be a feminist tale BECAUSE the history--though not-- was meant to show the decline of royal female power & agency that happened due to the assimilation into Andal patriarchy for power and/or to get a foothold and unified state to fight against the Others if you think of the theory of Aegon having a dragon dream about this. Especially in connection to Dany's rise.

AND I will say I do agree to critique on how GRRM's writing sometimes inspires anti-woman-ess through a paltry (thought we can't say nonexistent, there is a punishment against rape or sense of social taboo on rape in Westeros, but...) pushback or punishment for rape and violence against women [joannalannister]. I'm saying that GRRM's work is not meant to be taken as actual feminist literature but a series that really sets out to dramatize already obvious and present/past truths and conditions...sometimes to the detriment of its female characters and the impression made on readers. GRRM is still a liberal-ist white man.

AT THE SAME TIME, SINCE THIS ISN'T A FEMINIST SERIES BUT A "LOOK WHAT CAN HAPPEN" SORT OF THING:

I think that the whole point is that, yes, this is sad and it stems from how limiting such a set up/social conditions are AND Alysanne was a politically "good" queen. How she treats her own kids and is complicit in how they died or ran away should be a part of how "good" one is as a general sort of leader, yeah, but unlike Jaehaerys and the "good" he did, Alysanne's "good" acts for the realm had much more of a necessary impact in the sociopolitical landscape of their subjects. And I mean towards more marginalized groups, esp women. It's like she made sure to "round up" those left behind in other aristocrat's projects.

la-pheacienne says this:

Whether that someone has been chosen by the people, or by the gods, or by destiny, or by circumstances, and regardless of the political system that allowed them to yield that power, the point is that someone has power ad hoc at any given time, and power equals responsibility. What do you do with it? How do you govern? How do you choose between two equally grievous alternatives? Who do you listen to? Who do you trust? How can you learn? What if everything you've been told was a lie? How do you move on from there? What if the promises you made contradict each other? What if you fail? How do you live with the guilt, how do you go on? How do you instigate a structural change? What if you try to do that and people die? What if you try to do that and it kills you? Was it worth it?

On top of that, Alysanne was still a Consort, not a Regnant. (POST & POST) She had less power than Rhaenya or Visenya, who though were not exactly Regnants they also weren't just Aegon's wives but consummate and active politicians themselves, making deals in the open, riding dragons into wars, enacting laws, and creating institutions.

Alysanne had to rely on her husband's power to have and hope to have her thoughts on legislation come to reality. It is just a fact that queen consorts, unlike Queen Regnants, had to depend on their royal husband's favor, regard, or perception of need of them to have any semblance of power. Because they were women and consorts. It's part of the deal, the sociopolitical conditions. In reality and real history, it was such for MOST queen consorts.

Yeah they had more power at court and influenced their husbands, but you are seeing in Alysanne something that looks like what that sort of power could have been like. Even Alysanne had more influence over Jaehaerys than some real queen Consorts and those that came after her! Think of Rhaella, Naerys, Myriah Martell, etc.

Were there female consorts in real history who practiced more influence, power, etc. than their officially ruling husband or were their active equals in terms of policy making while showing some power over their kids lives than just, of course! But this is not the rule of the land, but exceptions. Nor the most common experience of medieval/early-mod-period women/female consorts precisely bc it was thought women didn't make good rulers. There is Empress Sisi, who couldn't even keep her own children close to her because royal children are not considered the Queen's but those "of the state", so the emperor and/or his mother could force them apart for any reason.

Juxtapose this to the Viserra situation. Alysanne actually was the one to arrange for the marriages she knew her husband wanted (esp after the whole deal with Daella refusing nearly every man/boy), and insisted to Viserra she had to marry Theomore Manderly. She had more power over her kids than you may think...it's not perfect because she is of course anticipating & complying with Jaehaerys' desires for the girls to be married off quick enough to build certain alliances or to just get rid of them, but she does not allow herself to really think the match bad and refuses to listen to her daughter. There was will here, from Alysanne not present in Sisi, and again, she had more power than later Consorts...yet based in Jaehaerys' will because she is a Consort and a dragonrider (helps the impression and image to gain "respect").

So we're presented with another question this series inspires: when & how should someone lay blame or responsibility on marginalized groups, identities, etc. like women of aristocratic classes, men of lower classes, either of different "races" (fiction and reality), and with what evidence?

First, Alysanne married Jaehaerys as his companion since she was 13. Before that, they were very close and were more or less each other's most important and intimate companions for years. She saw him as the default king, the leader, and herself as a necessary ingredient to Westeros' prosperity. That they would work more together than other couples...She was both right and wrong, and I think/headcanon she was sorely and quietly disappointed well before she observed Jaehaerys pass a girl over the 2nd time. So she acted the way she did at "home" towards her kids to feel more in control bc that is where Jaehaerys left her to act with some agency or authority more.

Second, Daenerys is the example of a "perfect", ideal, but also realistic "good queen"; someone that realistically and optimistically chooses to do good with the power she has and has managed to find value and meaning to use said power for others other than herself despite all that she went through. How those things would likely have turned some other women out, who were compelled to be more self-oriented, like Rhaenyra or Daena. She is purposefully different from her ancestors this way, but also similar to a lot of them, in that particular inner strength that she has to reinforce her altruism. That doesn't mean that people who don't do that special balance of strong altruism to her level are completely incapable, evil, or "bad queens".

Cersei? Hell yes, but even with Cersei we must acknowledge how while she is how she is bc she herself is pretty narcissistic and has been since young, most of her circumstances also has her try to make things better for herself due to certain circumstances and most criticism against her in the fandom--or the loudest--are sexist or just unfair. Alysanne? She at least did something where most did nothing and went against the clear wishes of her husband, and within the timeline she still is a source of inspiration for people like Dany. That has to mean something or there really is less of a source to compare oneself and learn from or to be able to analyze the good, bad, and how things developed the way they have.

This is a world where you are not encouraged to think outside of your own class, much less the principles and ideology about your gender. There are little to no thinkpieces or essays about how sexist some men and women are, what gives them the feeling that the way they think is correct, etc. There was and is no vocabulary for that; there is just experience and having to respond to your environment. You have to do the legwork yourself, and your group and support system, your own connections, and play the game. Sometime, you will fall off and especially when you have been bested or someone has used their socially given advantage over you...was Jaehaerys has done to Alysanne a few times or what courtiers and other lords can do.

So, with this in mind, I think it's important to acknowledge that yes while GRRM did not supply more examples of ideally acting "good queens", he does provide a clear outlook on how women could, would, and did act in real life history and TODAY. Because those questions about how to be a good ruler or a good person or how to differentiate. But it's not GRRM's personal example, necessarily or what he thinks a woman is capable of in his idea of a what a good medieval queen cold be. Alysanne is a "good" queen in that she does try to think of her subjects' needs before aristocrats' even with her behavior towards her daughters. To undermine that in our understanding that she did what did to her daughters is probably on GRRM, but more on others.

Jaehaerys was that sincerely altruistic: right of first night abolishment, the KL drinking water, her attempts to convince maesters of girls and women becoming maesters, etc. Again, It is Queen Consorts, unlike Queen regnants, had to depend on her royal husband's favor, regard, or perception of need of her to have any semblance of power because she is a woman and a Consort. I

I suppose I'm trying to say that in the process of understanding rather than being told what is right or logical, it's important to "good queens" from the context of which they come and take serious their conditions to understand the nuances of how truly "good" they were...even if we can say being a "good" queen needs to be an absolute in the first place.

Does Alysanne need to be a perfect feminist to be a good Queen? What if she is also responding to the setbacks against her AS she is trying to rule better, these setbacks that are designed for a man, her husband, to have more power than her and even to stop inhibit her ability to address certain problems without fear of losing said power given to her in the first place bc of her connection to him and official subordination to his paternal rule?

Outside of how he writes sexual violence and general violence against women, the line b/t power of self vs power from men, present in women's authority (especially in pre-feminist movement history), must be studied with some more nuance than with men's power. On our part as readers.

I'd say that GRRM uses violence against women as too much of a "gotcha" or flagrantly uses it as a device of emphasis than it needs to be, which simultaneously converts it to something psychologically insubstantial, something we shouldn't pay as much mind to, yes. The specific events of violence or normalization of violence done to women in ASoIaF that doesn't match real historical realities for women is definitely a huge concern because of this, but to mistake the power dynamics b/t a Consort and her ruling husband and most women to men does not help matters.

[phoenixcatch7]

Fic idea collection: sephiroth reincarnates into mdzs.

Now I've been rotating this in my mind for a while, but it went through several iterations before I was happy with it. Feel free to expand on or even use any of them!

Sephiroth reincarnates into lwj. Straightforward, pretty 1 to 1, we get lovely white v black and anime swordsmen and a bewildered love at first sight gay panic that goes differently to but about as well as canon. Room for gorgeous scenes and lots of angst. Wings, war heroes, on a pedestal, etc. Becoming a new person vs cycles of trauma. Devil you know etc. Problem: I don't like writing romance, I don't particularly want to one true soulmate wwx with someone who isn't lwj, and should wwx still die (pretty inevitable) the issue abruptly becomes sephiroth grieving for his brutally defamed and murdered One Love and not going on a genocidal spree about it. Lsh is not enough of an deterrent when the jianghu wants the kid dead too.

Sephiroth reincarnates into lwj and lxc in a split soul/mind situation, and they 'both' fall in love with wwx. I loved this, but the logistical issues (particularly the war) clashed with anything to do with the canon plot, and again it didn't fix the other romantic issues.

Sephiroth reincarnates into just lxc and that would have very little bearing on the wwx centric plot, so maybe a romance with jc? Again, cute, but sephiroth is pretty much the polar opposite of lxc and that'd mess up so much. They could work a grumpy (cold, uncaring) with a grumpy (hot, cares so very much) dynamic, I think they'd work pretty well under the right circumstances, but that combined with the fact I don't really ship them (sorry!) put me off expanding it further.

The one I finally decided on:

Sephiroth as... nmj! The combination of the special sabers and their resentment, the war leader role, the reputation, the kid brother abruptly foisted on him, it really struck me! I really like the idea of nmj slipping NHS some of his dna as a baby (qi covering for hojo science in this case) and the compulsive consequences of that. Feeling like NHS only really cares for him because of the s cells mind control. Having to take care of him like those egg/flour bag baby projects to teach kids empathy and responsibility but with a real human kid brother.

Nmj letting NHS slack even if he hates it because his subconscious will protect him in an emergency. If you've seen the scene in ff7 rebirth of cloud with the soldiers you'll know what I mean (it was SUCH a good scene. Ice cold). Imagine NHS of all people getting in trouble (like in the live action) and suddenly like a switch is flipped turning into a merciless murder machine.

I feel like they'd bond a lot in their own way, with NHS both thinking the world of and being sibling scared of him, them thoroughly enjoying battles of wits like weiqi but having no/few shared interests outside of that. Nmj honing NHS' observation skills, ruthlessness, quick thinking (and unwittingly, acting skills lmao). Sephiroths total inability to comprehend NHS' want to be lazy and indulgent with his own childhood of being genetically made to be a high functioning child soldier and then having to lead the sect and raise a kid from a young age, but having no real reference for how a normal childhood would look.

It'd be really interesting to see how it'd affect the war efforts, with someone well versed in large scale conflict, with sephiroths own overwhelming power. Wwx wouldn't be the sole ace, and how would that affect his own motivations and reputation if he wasn't as necessary?

And of course!! The venerated triad!! How would sephiroth take lxc and jgy, so much like his old genesis and angel? Would the experience of crisis core prepare him for those two, or for betrayal and distrust? Without the threat of degradation, would he find himself clinging to them? Would he notice lgys betrayal or underestimate him? Would he feed him his dna and pull an uno reverse??

And should he die, there's no way his corpse is going to be normal. Like, at all. (And poor NHS would sense it, react to it, part of his mind and cells getting ripped out, shut down, the warmth and love of his brother.) Would it constantly try to revive? Would its presence cause mania or mood swings, hallucinations, nightmares? Would people exposed start picking up habits or beliefs he had while alive? Would it be cut up to try and weaken it? Would its eyes track lgy until he hides it away? Would he start oozing green?? And don't even start on what a temple scene would look like in this situation, oh man. It'd be Bad. I think he'd claw his way back to full consciousness out of pure homicidal refusal. He's clawed his way back from total annihilation far too many times to let some conniving POLITICIAN do him in for good.

Nmj staunchly returning from the dead to take up being a Co sect leader again because now he's actually unkillable and NHS is not about to let this happen without shoving as much work as possible back onto him lmao (so he can't leave). And befriending wen ning. The white hair and blank eyes with the iron grey skin and black/gold would be striking.

Basically nmj would be ripe for really good canon divergence and character analysis and growth but even if you keep canon the exact same there's still plenty of room during and after for anything ranging from hurt/comfort to fluff to pure crack (we're putting Sci fi dystopia allegory man in Chinese High Fantasy it's not going to go completely smoothly. And this man does not have experience with raising a child).

There is, also, the option of split mind nhs/nmj sephiroth, in which one body takes the brawn and the violence and the attention and the other keeps the brain and the secret longing for safety and comfort and leisure, acting as though two separate people to allow this space to rest and heal and learn to be human in the way a child soldier or orphaned teen sect leader isn't allowed. It'd mean NHS and nmj would have to be twins, and thus full blooded, but that could be rectified by nmj just being the youngest of the trio and NHS being a few years behind in classes so he's in the same year as the other clan heirs (and wwx) like canon. He'd also be a lot, lot harder to kill and if jgy did anyway sephiroth would quite brutally extract revenge immediately for killing his other body and that means no happy ending for wwx (or a lot of people tbh).

So which idea is your favourite?

[eleemosynecdoche]

So, here's the thing- these cross-border raids, evaluated as a "material attempt at liberation", which I will assume a definition of: "a pure effort to impose a state of affairs where Palestinians are out from under the power of the government of Israel on the state of Israel without Israel having any capacity to choose whether to accept or reject that state of affairs"- evaluated under those terms, these raids would be a total and dismal failure.

They could not seize and occupy any ground outside of the defined borders of Gaza, they couldn't compel Israel to stop bombing Gaza, they haven't noticeably degraded Israel's military capabilities, and even in the grossest material terms, they didn't kill enough Israelis to be demographically significant. It stretches credibility to believe that they could be repeated indefinitely to the same effect until they achieve one or more of those goals, or that they're Hamas just warming up.

But if you allow the possibility of violence as a method of communication, it's possible for them to be a message, and possible for that message to then be successfully communicated. The difficulty is that this then opens up the message to being criticized in terms of its form and its content, and this is inevitable. So the "western leftists" being sneered at in this screenshot are, frankly, attempting to find a redemptive understanding of these events, where it's still possible for the Palestinian cause to be achieved. To contrast, the anonymous person is seemingly relying on what I can't help but think of as sportsmanship ideology- it doesn't matter whether Palestinians achieve liberation or not, what matters is that they tried! Or perhaps simply doesn't have the tools necessary to grasp the material relationships there.

My own opinion is that these raids are far more compelled by the needs of domestic politics in Gaza than actions taken totally of choice by Hamas and Palestinian Islamic Jihad. Hamas cannot do nothing when Israel engages in some outrage against Palestinians outside of Gaza, and furthermore, must escalate in response to Israeli rhetorical escalation, and then a canned message goes out, Hamas's actions are condemned internationally (because they cannot respond proportionally given their circumstances), and the aggregate situation isn't strongly affected.

It's bleak, of course. Rationally, I can't really blame anyone for wanting Palestinian liberation to be something that could be achieved by Palestinians alone without compromise with the oppressive forces which act upon them. But then again, believe in oneself as a rational subject is always incorrect, so that apparent sympathy must, inevitably, be a product of my material circumstances (USAmerican, AmeriKKKan, however you want to put it) and so wallowing in performative irrational hatred of anyone who wants to believe in that possibility is preferential to the delusion of myself as a heroic subject.

[mengyao]

(not me ranting about mdzs /cql characterization takes in 2023 --)

my cross to bear is that i can't read like 90% of aus that feature NHS prominently even if they're canonverse because they make it clear the author's interpretations just do not gel with mine…

like i just don't believe that NHS would do Alla That in basically any other circumstance. the list of things he gaf enough about outside of what directly affects him/his family/loved ones is vanishingly small. he does not care about wider political contexts beyond that, especially in cql where he doesn't even end up chief cultivator at the end! i don't even mean this in a complimentary way, it can go in either direction -- people who think he was assigned supervillain at birth are super wrong but i do think he's really quite unconcerned with issues of systemic justice. please do not give your modern au huaisangs good politics it's just not right

imo huaisang is primarily motivated by devotion and affection/loyalty to very specific people, not causes or broader groups, let alone society as a whole, and once that devotion has been undermined it's gone forever. it's an interesting mix of selfishness/selflessness in the sense that his methods involve engaging in a lot of like… self-inflicted unpleasantness, like no one is making you do all that, girl…. but his criteria for what he cares about enough to engage in those methods is basically "does this affect me and mine [which is a very limited circle], y/n" and if it doesn't then he's going to continue prioritizing the pursuit of his interests/comforts/etc. if no outside threats--and not just looming intangible threats like nmj's inevitable decline but threats posed by human actors--threaten that circle then i don't see his priorities shifting so dramatically

--which isn't to say i think he would necessarily be a static character in this AU thought experiment but i see the "OTT public buffoonery by day, 4D chess by night*" turn as a response to a very specific situation not, like, his predetermined character path, and the assumptions about his internal life that lead to the latter reading are usually not ones i find as interesting

(*speaking of which, i think a lot of where this disconnect comes from is that i don't think 4D chess is actually what's going on, really. nie huaisang does not have a bbc sherlock mind palace, in my opinion. i saw a Poste a while back describe him as playing xanatos speed chess (in tvtropes parlance) and that aligns much more closely with my own feeling… like what are his actual skills, that we observe in the story? being observant, being patient, capitalizing on the fact that people let their guard down around him, being able to make accurate character judgments (most of the time) when presented with necessary information (especially wrt understanding the impulses and motivations of other people) and then gambling situationally based on assumptions about how people are likely to react, being a good liar, etc… basically a lot of stuff that doesn't involve engineering complex plans so much as it does biding time, collecting data points, and then being a chaos agent in a controlled manner with the understanding that the principal actors are probably going to react in certain ways that can be funneled towards certain ends. kind of a "steps 1-15: [a bunch of insane shit], steps 16-99: TBD, step 100: profit??" type beat

and i guess where i see this overlapping with what i was talking about before is that i don't think this strategy actually works if you care overly much about who is going to get hurt in the backlash. note, though, that that's a result of specific loss and interpersonal betrayal, not an inherent personality trait, at least not at the same level of intensity...)

[argyrocratie]

“human beings do not exist first prior to the  circumstences to which they are born and then come together to  constitute society, and they don’t choose their heredity, at every  moment their decision emerge determinalisticly out of the totality of  past and present circumstances, inside and outside this skin into wich  they have been thrown: and yet human being do make decision for which  they might and should be accountable to others, such accountability is  indeed one of the chief feature of bio-social existance

(...)

it’s not your fault that you’re in trouble and it’s your responsability to  get out of it that is to do whatever you can to get out of trouble that  is it depends on your response-ability and we here to help you built  that ability that’s our responsability

(...)

100% of the fault, the causation belong to circumstances outside and inside the skin and  100%  of the responsability belong to the decision maker

(...)

we  may say the individual is the level of the system where the system  problems are experienced, that is at the object level where we live and  so the level of responsability, response-ability, here the individual  can learn to improve their decision making abilities, to become more  response-able to the degree that circumstances permit and only to that  degree, in this way they can affect to some degree in a benificial  spiral manner the higher level of cause and condition.”

- Gad Horowitz - "Radical General Semantics" (2016)

...

“We deny society’s free will and its alleged right to punish. justice itself, taken in its widest, most humane sense, is but an idea, so to say, which is not an absolute dogma; it poses the social problem but it does not think it out. It merely indicates the only possible road to human emancipation, that is the humanization of society by liberty in equality. This positive solution can be achieved only by an increasingly rational organization of society. This solution, which is so greatly desired, our ideal for all, is liberty, morality, intelligence, and the welfare of each through the solidarity of all: human fraternity, in short.

Every human individual is the involuntary product of a natural and social environment within which he is born, and to the influence of which he continues to submit as he develops. The three great causes of all human immorality are: political, economic, and social inequality; the ignorance resulting naturally from all this; and the necessary consequence of these, slavery.

Since the social organization is always and everywhere the only cause of crimes committed by men, the punishing by society of criminals who can never be guilty is an act of hypocrisy or a patent absurdity. The theory of guilt and punishment is the offspring of theology, that is, of the union of absurdity and religious hypocrisy. The only right one can grant to society in its present transitional state is the natural right to kill in self-defense the criminals it has itself produced. but not the right to judge and condemn them This cannot, strictly speaking, be a right, it can only be a natural, painful, but inevitable act, itself the indication and outcome of the impotence and stupidity of present-day society. The less society makes use of it, the closer it will come to its real emancipation.”

-Mikhail Bakunin, “The Program of the International Brotherhood” (1869)

...

“What do we mean by respect for humanity? We mean the recognition of human right and human dignity in every man, of whatever race, color, degree of intellectual development, or even morality. But if this man is stupid, wicked, or contemptible, can I respect him? Of course, if he is all that, it is impossible for me to respect his villainy, his stupidity, and his brutality; they are repugnant to me and arouse my indignation. I shall, if necessary, take the strongest measures against them, even going so far as to kill him if I have no other way of defending against him my life, my right, and whatever I hold precious and worthy.But even in the midst of the most violent and bitter, even mortal, combat between us, I must respect his human character. My own dignity as a man depends on it.

Nevertheless, if he himself fails to recognize this dignity in others, must we recognize it in him? If he is a sort of ferocious beast or, as sometimes happens, worse than a beast, would we not, in recognizing his humanity, be supporting a mere fiction? No, for whatever his present intellectual and moral degradation may be, if, organically, he is neither an idiot nor a madman–in which case he should be treated as a sick man rather than as a criminal–if he is in full possession of his senses and of such intelligence as nature has granted him, his humanity, no matter how monstrous his deviations might be, nonetheless really exists. It exists as a lifelong potential capacity to rise to the awareness of his humanity, even if there should be little possibility for a radical change in the social conditions which have made him what he is.”

- Mikhail Bakunin, “Rousseau’s Theory of the State”

there’s an issue that’s really been bugging my mind for a very long time. i value your view points a lot and would really love to hear your perspective on this.

so if we all are just products of our genetics and our environments, then how can we really blame people for doing bad stuff? a lot of people who do ‘bad’ stuff genuinely believe they are the victims. i’ve done fucked up shit and genuinely didn’t see how it was bad, back then. nowadays i know better and i regret it and i won’t do it again but back then in my mind it was justified and i genuinely thought of myself as the victim.

and even the people who do bad shit and know it’s harmful— how can we really blame them, since they lack empathy due to their genes and environment?

that’s not to say that i think their actions are ok, but is being a ‘good’ or ‘bad’ person really a choice? even the people who are like yeah i do bad shit and idc are they to blame, since clearly something is wrong with the way their brain works?

Yeah, this is precisely why I reject the idea of good and bad people. Ultimately the only fault that can fairly be taken up is with reality itself.

[parkjimin1010smuts]

Breaking Point || Kth

Summary: Taehyung reveals just how he deals with his stress to his best friend y/n and late one night y/n reaches her breaking point and decides to put Taehyungs tactic to the test, but there is a slight problem she has no one to help her out, or does she?

Warnings: daddy kink, overstimulation, thigh riding, virgin reader, multiple orgasms, fingerings, unprotected sex (yalls stay safe out there though this is just a fanfic), dom tae, sub reader, pwp. Enjoy!!

An elbow nudging into the side of your ribcage pulled you back into the conscious realm. A slight gasp leaves your mouth as you jerked your head back up. Now who the hell thought it was the perfect moment to need your attention.

You gathered your surroundings haphazardly, a subtle frown settling upon your face as you realized just who it was, Kim Taehyung. “Morning princess, I almost thought you’d never wake up,” his velvety voice mocked.

Turning towards Taehyung, the frown on your face only deepened, a small sound of annoyance escaping you. With your eyes now in his direction you unintendedly began to check him out. The cluster of blonde hair that was normally nestled peacefully was a disheveled mess exposing his forehead. His plump cheeks were pushed up due to the goofy grin he had plastered on his face nearly concealing his chocolate brown eyes that were now mere crescent moons. I had to admit he had a very attractive smile, reminiscent of a box.

His body was clad in a pair of black slacks that clung beautifully against his muscular thighs leaving very little to the imagination. His caramel chest peeked at me from the confines of the loose summer shirt he wore. I was brought back to reality when the view of his chest was suddenly obscured by the change in his position as he was now bent over packing his things. Releasing I heavy sigh I began to mirror his actions before throwing my bag over my shoulder and making a beeline straight to the double doors. In true Taehyung fashion he was right on my tail, trailing me like the faithful guard dog he pretends to be.

You and Taehyung  have been best friends now for over 15 years, you both met in the early years of preschool and by the grace of the angels above you have not been separated ever since. Through thick and thin, trials and tribulations, Taehyung has been there every step of the way. Everything you have experienced so has he, that’s how close you two are and, in all honesty, you wouldn’t have it any other way with any other person. 

This closeness however was more often than not met with questioning glances and needless two cent comments, most of them romance related. But Taehyung was always so quick to shut them down with a little more fervor and enthusiasm than you would deem necessary.  It was clear to you that Taehyung simply had no interest in you romantically, and you understood. Who cared if you had a tini, tiny crush on him. Not you that’s for sure.

But I mean it was inevitable, the man who was now glued to you side in a steady march that matched your own was a literal god send. He was loyal, attractive and physically in shape. What more was there to ask for.

“What’s up with you lately, every time I see you you’re either lethargic or in one hell of a mood.” My best friend voiced before abruptly coming to a halt in front of his black pick up.

“Nothing I’ve just been up studying for finals and the stress Is finally getting to me I guess,” you say through clenched teeth. You really do feel like you're reaching your breaking point and seeing how well put together Taehyung just riles you up even further. Its really not fair, we are in the same course, the same exams, the same workloads and yet there he is basking in his ethereal beauty, fair skin with no signs of exertion. While you on the other hand are left to wallow in the deep dark bags that have taken residence beneath your forever dropping eyes. Don’t even get me started on the acne that picks the absolutely best moments to choose your face as their next canvas, please note the sarcasm.

Allowing your curiosity to surface you voice the question that has been eating at you for quite some time now, “How do you do it?” Taehyung shots a quick glance your way before reverting his attention back to the bustling road before us but the slight dip of his eyebrows was enough for you to know he wants you to elaborate.

With a deep breath you laid everything that had been forming a cluster in your mind out on the table for Taehyung to digest. When you was through with your mini rant session an eerie silence danced between you two for a good minute before Taehyung finally released a hearty chuckle. With his head thrown back and eyes closed from the intensity of his smile he was unable to see the way your face twisted in confusion.

“You think I’m ethereal?” Of course, that was the only thing his pea sized brain was able to pick. Suppressing all the swear words you had an indescribable urge to throw his way you simply rolled your eyes while sinking further into the leather car seat.

“I release my stress through other things.” He finally said after calming himself.

“Other things,” you said with a raise of my eyebrow. 

“Yeah, other things, or more specifically sex.” your eyes grow tenfold as you choke on your saliva. Sex?! Should this really have been a surprise to you, I mean he’s young healthy and oh just look at him.

However it still does nothing to subside the slight blush you feel creeping up your neck as you avert your eyes to your lap. While he was indeed your best friend and things not discussed between the two of you were few and far between, one thing he never seemed to ask you about was your sex life. Not that there was much to ask about in the first place. You were a virgin, not entirely from lack of trying but still a virgin none the less.

“Oh,” that was the only logical response your mind could muster given the circumstances.

“Oh,” Taehyung retorted as he maneuvered the car to rest in his driveway. Choosing to remain silent you purse your lips into a thin line, you refuse to falter, even when he turns his body to allow his eyes to have unlimited access to scrutinize you with their chocolate depths. The car suddenly feels so hot or maybe that’s just your face which is now beet red.

“What’s with your reaction y/n,” Taehyung presses fully failing to read the room, or car in this situation.

You have never had any problems confiding in Taehyung but for some reason you feel embarrassed to mention that you're still in fact a 23 year old virgin, especially after he just shared details of his very thriving sex life.

The silence drags on for a good three minutes and knowing your best friend you know there is no way he will ever give in and so you cave. “I’m a virgin, okay. There, are you happy now,” you hastily say with an exasperated sigh. Choosing to save yourself from the snarky remarks you know are about to flow like a river from your best friend you hurriedly make your way out of the confines of his car. You mentally curse the universe as you see we are in fact parked outside his apartment complex and any thoughts you had of fleeing the scene are disintegrated in mere seconds. As if adding fuel to the flame the sound of the car door sounds as Taehyung makes his way out of his car and round to my side.

“Please save it, I’m really not in the mood for your bullshit right now,” you cut him off before he can even part his lips. “Hey what’s wrong with you. Did you seriously think I would judge you just because you chose to keep it locked up.” you simply avert your gaze as his words settled in your head.

“Hey look at me, your virginity is nothing to be ashamed of okay, I’m sorry if I made you feel that way, but you know me better than that. You know I would never shame you for anything so insignificant.” The tone of his voice was calm and collected and shame suddenly washed over you from the way you had jumped the gun. You never realised how your reaction could have been perceived, Taehyung was always so understanding and here you were assuming only the worst of him.

Deciding not to push the conversation any further you simply lowered your head in embarrassment before heaving a sigh. You've been doing that a lot lately. Being the attentive best friend that he is Taehyung was quick to pick up on my signals and thankfully refrained from pushing the topic any further. A silence soon settled between us before Taehyung laced his fingers around your own before leading you back to his car.

“I’m gonna take you home and you just get some rest okay,” The soft nature of his voice just made you feel worse while simultaneously lifting your mood.

~•~•~☆~•~•~☆~•~•~☆~•~•~☆~•~•~☆~•~•

Yet again a frown had found its way onto your face as you stared at the clock that ticked away on your bedside table. It was just past 2am and yet the lights in your room were still on casting shadows over the immense paperwork clustered all over your bedsheets. Yet another sleepless night with your only companion being a cup of coffee made with  three sugars and a gallon of stress.

Grabbing the cup of steaming goodness you throw your head back as you allow the bitter taste to maneuverer its way into your body with hopes of getting your systems back on high alert. You put down the coffee with a soft clang so it’s now adjacent to the ticking demon that serves as a constant reminder of how shit you have it right now.

Fighting the urge to scream you plunge face first into your numerous worksheets. This was it, you had finally reached your breaking point, the tears that stung the corners of your eyes served as confirmation.

Just as you were about to succumb to the severity of it all and just allow yourself to scream and cry to your hearts content a certain blonde haired box smiled adorning goof crossed your mind. Or more specifically a certain conversation shared between the two of you.

Sex.

You felt tingly sensations dance through your veins as the solution to all your problems was now just in front of you. However this feeling of euphoria was only short lived as not long after you realised there wasn’t a single person you could ask for help. Well there was that one guy you met during spring break, but your relationship came to a rocky end as he bumped heads with Taehyung over your relationship with him. He had accused you of slutting around with Taehyung and the man in question did not take lightly to his words. Lets just say his name is most definitely off the table, and so is my relief plan seeing as he is your only ex. Pathetic I know, no need to remind me.

You run your fingers across your laptop giving it a contemplative tap, while trying your hardest to push the most obvious solution to your problem to the back of your head. There was no way you could call him. Seriously, there was no plausible or conceivable scenario in which you went to your best friend, pleading for him to lend you his body to get off. You brought your hands to your face, a shriek of embarrassment escaping you at the mere idea.

This was the guy who had seen you at your worst, stumbling into your apartment with puke all over yourself when you were going through your hard liquor phase freshman year of college. There's no way he'd be interested in having sex with the girl he spent many nights holding her hair back as she hurled into her toilet.

No.

You couldn’t ask Taehyung to partake in such an activity with you. Absolutely not.

No way.

~¤~¤~♡~¤~¤~♡~¤~¤~♡~¤~¤~♡~¤~¤~♡

The creaking of your apartment door sent you five feet into the air as the reality of the situation sinfully settled in your brain and the nerves were finally kicking in.

“Taehyung,” you whirled around to face him as his gaze zeroed in as you  shifted your body from one foot to the other, a tendency you displayed whenever nervous. You couldn't fight down the heat that was creeping up your neck as he stepped into your apartment, eyeing you cautiously as he slipped off his shoes.

“Hey is anything wrong, you sounded really anxious on the phone.”

“What, me, I’m perfectly fine!” You responded forcibly, the enthusiasm in your voice misplaced, given the nature of the conversation.

Taehyung simply nodded back at you, not noticing the awkward timber of your words or otherwise not minding. "Well if nothings wrong why'd you call me over to your place at 2am?" He inquired, like the wonderfully kind best friend he was. You pressed your lips together.

"About that, do you remember how you said you use sex as an outlet for your stress in order to maintain a level head, well would you mind having sex with me as I’m a pathetic excuse of a human who has no one else to turn to for my sexual needs." Oh god, there was no way you could ask that. Taehyung was your best friend, and that would be too unbearably awkward. What the hell were you thinking?

“Well i wanted to watch the conjuring 3 again and I remembered that you hadn’t watched it yet so what better time than now?” You swallowed uneasily, a gesture that unfortunately didn’t go unnoticed by your best friend. Your eyes nearly fell out of your head as the man of the hour suddenly took a step towards you, his eyes unmoving on your face.

"What's wrong? Did something happen?" His tone was suddenly low and severe, eyes running all over your burning face as he searched for any physical ailment. There was something off about you, he realized. He wasn't sure what it was, but he could make out how your form was trembling, your eyes wide in panic.

“Do you want to have sex with me.” You reflexively shut your eyes as you allowed the weight if your words to hang heavy between the two of you it's only competitor being the unbearable silence that lingered in the air not long after. You could hear every inhale and exhale of the tall man that stood opposite you. Every passing second of silence made you regret your words and just as you were about to play it all of as a joke and retract your prior request a pair of soft lips pressed gently against your own stopping you right in your tracks.

Just as suddenly as it happened it came to an end. You could feel something stirring in your chest , the feeling of his lips on yours lingered, radiating heat like an old burn. You turned towards him and the look in his eyes nearly knocked the breath out of you, there was a dark sheen to them, one you had never seen. It was intimidating and attractive all the same, the fire in your belly igniting like never before. Before you could even think to stop yourself, you grabbed the collars of his shirt and pulled him down to you before taking his lips with your own.

In no time at all the kiss got heated as tongue and teeth were thrown into the mix. You feel his tongue explore the darkest depths of your  mouth as you fight back the need for air. His tongue reluctantly leaves your mouth all before licking a stripe across my bottom lip before his teeth bite down on it, hard but not enough to draw blood. You let out a whimper as his teeth finally released your lip.

There was a shift in the room, Taehyung could sense it. He knew exactly what you wanted and fuck if he didn't want the same thing. His entire body was on edge, he could hear every heavy exhale you pushed past your parted lips. "You're a virgin." The whine that came from you in response was low. "I don't want this to be something you regret in the morning.  I can't promise I'll be gentle." He licked his lips.

"Please, I just… just this once," Your words were soft and pleading, the sound of your thighs pressing together in search of relief filling Taehyungs ears. "I need you." He could see your hard nipples pressing against the thin material of your white shirt. They were distracting him, and thoughts of his hands cupping your breasts over your shirts, rubbing your cloth-covered nipple between his fingers, corrupted his mind. How easy it could've been for him to cave right then and there.

Your voice was small and dripping in submission. He felt like he was suffocating in the small space you called your living room. Fuck. He felt himself stiffen in his shorts. You were breathing heavily now, hands trembling as you fought the urge to throw yourself against Taehyung and bury your face into his neck. The mere thought of his skin against yours caused your whole body to shudder in want. When did you become like this. Your thoughts and actions almost made you seem unrecognisable but with the heat of the moment you couldn’t careless. You wanted this and how you wished Taehyung would stop being the gentleman he was and just fuck you already.

Taehyung was already heading towards you as he heeded his last warning, "Do you understand? I need to hear your answer."

“Oh god Taehyung just fuck me already!”  you hurriedly said followed by a deep exhale.

Without wasting another second Taehyung plopped himself onto your mustard couch before pulling you onto him. The sudden movement caused you to straddle one of his meaty thighs which had you quivering as your pussy throbbed from the sudden stimulation.  When you finally got comfortable you pulled the shirt over your head quickly, hands coming to fondle your own breasts, desperate for any skin contact.

You let out a cry as Taehyungs palms found the skin of your hips, urging you to grind against his thigh. You whined rocking back against his thigh. “Mm please Tae, I need your cock,” your own words surprised you.

"Hmm? You seem to be doing just fine without me, though." He cocked his head at you, hand coming up to smack the side of your thigh. A sharp moan fell from you, fingers tugging at your nipple as your hips sped up. Then, to your sweet relief, Taehyungs mouth found one of your breasts, taking no hesitation in pulling the hard bud into his mouth. You threw an arm over his shoulder, fingers floundering as they attempted to find anchorage on his sweat-soaked skin. Your other hand reached out to touch his abdomen, preening as his muscles flexed beneath your fingers.

He pulled away from your breast with a loud pop sound. Smirking up at you as your eyes began to flutter shut, he watched in amusement as your orgasm caught up with you quickly, a result of your heightened sensitivity and inexperience. He would have to teach you later how to refrain from Cumming so quickly.

"Fuck, oh god Taehyung" You cried into his shoulder, body jerking as you came unravelled. Taehyung couldn't help but let out a whine of his own, palming over his crotch as he watched you ride out your orgasm. Although he would never admit it the way his name fell from your lips like honey had his cock twitching in his now too tight jeans. " Taehyung, please." You panted once you had caught your breath, bringing your face up to his. “Fuck me" you managed to pant out without breaking eye contact. Thus lead to Taehyung  unconsciously letting out a groan.

"Is that what my pretty girl wants? Want daddy to fill you up, sweetheart?" The intimate pet name escaping him before he could think otherwise. It should have been no surprise to you that Taehyung had a daddy kink. Nonetheless you could feel a new wave of wetness staining his jeans from the pet name, from daddy, right down to the way his thigh was still flexing underneath your heat. It was all too much, you could feel your senses going into over drive.

"Yes daddy, fuck. Fuck me deep and hard until I'm stuffed with your cum.” You breathed into his neck. Taehyung was going to fucking explode. Every damn word you spoke went straight to his groin, his painfully hard cock straining against his Jean’s fabric. And with that in mind, he flipped you over, pushing your legs up into your chest so that he could see your clenched cunt fully exposed for him.

“You don't have any idea what you fucking do to me, do you? I'm so fucking hard for you, and I haven't even felt that lovely pussy of yours." He growled, his fingers coming down to circle your entrance. You didn't even have time to contemplate a response before his fingers rolled over your sensitive bud. His fingers felt so different to yours – your jaw slack as a silent sob fell out, his light but quick motions sending your back arching. Wrapping a hand against his wrist, you groaned, the feeling nearly overwhelming but still too good to pull him away.

Taehyung cursed as your hand came down to rub against the his cock still retrained by his jeans, the small action just gentle enough to have his hips jerking into you. He felt painfully hard and he feared if you didn’t stop he would bust a load right in his pants. His skilful hands were soon lost to his belt as he hurriedly worked to get rid of the only clothing left separating your bodies. "Gonna make a mess of this wet little pussy, okay? Let me know if you want me to stop." Were Taehyungs final words as he pressed himself inside you, hand reaching over to take yours into his.

A cry left you, eyebrows furrowing together as your head fell back, leaving Taehyung breathing heavily through his nose, jaw tense as he fought back a growl. The urge to sink his teeth into your sweat glistened neck was too much to resist and so he bent down and began showering hickeys over the canvas that was your neck.

The stretch stung a bit but he was able to easily slide into you thanks to your prior orgasm and the help of his fingers. You felt full and content, it was such an overwhelming feeling that when he bottomed out and his groin came in contact with your clit you came for the second time.

Eyes rolling to the back of your head you let out a loud moan that had you hiding your face in embarrassment. You could feel the hot breath of Taehyung as he chuckled from his position nestled between your breasts. After deciding you had had enough time to get accustomed to his size Taehyung pulled out almost completely before sliding back into you. You let out a whine as he bottomed out inside you, watching as his expression changed into a lewd one with your walls clamping around his fat cock. "How's that, baby?" You could only moan in response, nails digging into his back as he began to rock himself into you, entirely obsessed with the way your body was readjusting itself as he moved inside you. It was like your body knew exactly what to do, despite the sensation being otherwise strange.

Your fingers found your clit immediately, knowing that this was exactly how you wanted to cum, dripping down the couch and stretched out around  Taehyungs cock. "So big. Feels so good." You mumbled, your hair cascading around you as his pace quickened, fucking you hard and deep.

You let out an incoherent whimper, shuddering as Taehyungs thrusts into you deepened, spurred on by the way you continously moaned his name submissively. Your thighs felt wet and slick, the combined mixture of both yours and Taehyungs arousal dripping down onto them. You felt filthy and dirty and you were loving every second of it.

You could feel all your stress diminishing right before your eyes with every thrust of his hips. You felt elated, almost as though you were in another dimension, oh how you didn’t want this moment to come to an end. "My pretty little girl. You're making an absolute mess on my dick, isn't that right?"

"Yes, Daddy." You sobbed, body more than ready to succumb to your third orgasm of the night. "Such a good girl." He praised, a hand coming up to squeeze one of your supple tits. Your fingers found your abused clit once more. You circled around it liberally, the familiar euphoric feeling creeping up on you once more. "My sweet little girl. My precious girl." He cooed into your mouth, earning him an appreciative moan.

He was so close, fuck. “Cum in me daddy, I want you to come in me,” you whimpered desperately all in hopes of finally pushing him over the edge. And it seemed to have done the trick because with a final thrust he nestled himself deep within your warmth, a string of groans and curses tumbling out his mouth as he emptied his load into you. His release was the final push you needed to reach your most intense orgasm of the night. You shamelessly screamed as your back arched off the sofa and your body writhed in overstimulation.

"Fuck, fuck. I love you, holy shit, I love you." He peppered your face with kisses, breath shaky. Whether he let that slip due to the heat of the moment or whether those were his genuine feelings he had kept bottled up within him much like you, you chose to just revel in the moment stress free. "I love you more." You sighed adoringly, revelling in such an intimate gesture from him.

Thank you so much for reading 💜

[bigskydreaming]

I don’t necessarily believe that the ending is the most important part of a story, but I do believe that where a story ends is still crucial....because by ending your story in the wrong place, you can actively undermine the entire point of it.

I think we see this a lot in just the canon alone....pretty much any time Dick is brainwashed or has amnesia or something like that. Far too often, the canon treats the ‘breaking’ of the aberrant mental state and return to his default way of thinking as the end of the story....and this does both their story and Dick’s character a huge disservice.

Because the core conflict in any story in which someone - in this case Dick - is mentally altered by external circumstances or influence....like the actual conflict itself comes from the way Dick’s relationships and interactions with people are altered and strained due to the changes in his mental state.

Problem is....most of these stories treat the change in his mental state as the true problem and the only ‘real’ problem.....and thus....once his mind is returned to normal, voila, the problem is solved, and the story can be wrapped up and moved past.

Except, again.....the altered mental state itself wasn’t the actual conflict.

It was simply the catalyst for the conflict.

The conflict, once more, was the effect this altered state had on Dick’s relationships.

So, in order to actually resolve the conflict raised in the story....its not enough to simply ‘fix’ Dick’s brainwashing or amnesia or whatever is altering his mindset and return him to his normal headspace.

The story also has to delve into the relationships it damaged over the course of it, and resolve those interpersonal conflicts once Dick is back in his rightful headspace.....

Because otherwise, the end result, the thing readers actually take away from the reading of that story, is going to end up skewed.

Its more likely than not to remain lodged in hindsight in reader memories as though the crux of the story and the climax, the resolution, all of it....all was hinged on the brainwashing/amnesia/etc specifically.....

Which in turn, is what so often results in Dick himself being held up in peoples’ memories as being the problem in these stories. He is retroactively morphed into the catalyst for his damaged relationships because the story has failed to keep the actual catalyst, the externalized influence or circumstances that changed his headspace....centered as being based outside his normal, default characterization.

And in the absence of that focused centering  of the catalyst of the story conflicts as beginning outside of Dick himself.....the easiest way for the reader’s mind to ‘round up,’ the path of least resistance to quickly categorizing and recalling the story and its effects....is to center the problem on its epicenter rather than its actual source.

And that’s how we end up with completely external catalysts like brainwashing treated like they were Dick’s fault anyway, as it all ends up internalized and viewed as beginning and ending with him. Because in reality, the brainwashing or whatever didn’t begin with him, even his amnesia began with someone else shooting him in the head....but again, if the ending fails to uphold that and follow through with treating it as beginning externally...this is the part people are more likely to remember and focus on. The part where the story ended....with Dick and Dick alone being ‘fixed’ and everything returning to normal as a result.

And this is nine out of ten times where things fall apart....because when we re-center the actual conflicts of the story as the altered and damaged back and forth in Dick’s relationships with others.....we have to acknowledge that Dick is only one half of each of these relationships. All relationships are a two-way street, and though we’re aware initially that his part of the altered relationship dynamic is primarily occurring due to the changes to his mental state.......the partner half of his relationships, while prompted by his own changed behavior, does not have the same external source for their own side of the conflict.

So, if the conflicts themselves are the actual conflicts in Dick’s relationships with people....and ‘fixing’ the brainwashing or amnesia or whatever literally snaps him out of his altered state and back into the position of wanting to immediately fix all his relationships because he’s horrified at the state they’ve fallen into in ‘the absence’ of his normal headspace.....

That does resolve part of the story....but only part of it. It inherently addresses the reasons for Dick’s changed behavior and the ensuing changes in his dynamics, and so it makes sense why writers think to themselves there’s no need to go down the line or even to a handful of specific individuals and showcase the actual repairing of the relationships, because the logical thought process here is that once the brainwashing/altered state is removed, Dick on his own, of his own natural volition, will logically be motivated to do all that off the page, without us needing to see it take place.

But it fails at the same time....by not addressing or showing the resolution of the repaired relationships via the other person in each case like, acknowledging the how and why of things getting to be as bad as they did, and their role in that two way street, without the explanation of being externally altered.

And thus the almost inevitable end result is - as we see born out time and time again as Dick tends to be the character who most often is subjected to these kinds of storylines specifically - like, the inevitable end result is Dick ends up carrying all the blame, undeservedly, as the fact that none of this was ever his own fault born of internal faults or wants or intentions.....tends to vanish in the wake of Dick himself being recentered as both the catalyst of his own damaged relationships...not what was done to him specifically.....as well as additionally he’s innately viewed as the sole necessary component to restoring said relationships to their optimal state.

Which in turn places the burden and obligation of fixing what happened due entirely to something that was done to him, that he was the victim of....and now treats fixing all of that as his responsibility and no one else’s.

And uh.....that’s pretty fucked up when you think about it. 

[ageof9thhouse]

Signs in the Sixth House

The sixth house is where we associate the sign of Virgo (ruled by the planet Mercury) but the goddess of Harvest and Fertility, Ceres or Demeter is assigned with the constellation. Demeter had a daughter named Persephone (Goddess of Spring) and Zeus thought of Persephone as the ideal wife for Hades who was the God of Underworld and not happy with his position. The myth is famously called “The Kidnapping of Persephone”. In the end, it is decided that Persephone only has to spend part of the year with Hades in the underworld and this is when the seasonal cycles come to play. Demeter had to let go of her daughter and with that acceptance, we now have four season which gives the circle of life the balance it needs. So, what does this famous myth has to do with this house? Well, I see this house as the loss of childhood (coming after 5th house), growing pains, the responsibilities one comes face to face, taking care of your own health... Living is not all about fun and games no longer. The house represents the necessary actions or the discipline one has to adapt into their lives in order for their lively-hoods to blossom.

♈︎Aries / Mars in the 6th House:

These people want to have it their way when it comes to daily plans. They have a certain routine in which they’d prefer not to change for other people. They are talented in the field of organizing but when it comes to keeping up they are slacking. They are aware of how the “self” needs growth and would love to take the necessary actions for doing so, however, they are not good recognizing what these actions exactly should be. They are naive in their approach to taking care of themselves even though they would think of themselves as the best at it. They need to at least take into consideration what other people might have to say about what might be good for them. Aries rules the head, therefore the native might be prone to migraines, head injuries and sinus pressure. Anxiety can also catch up to them when they feel like they are not good at something they set out their minds on. When working for other people, the person’s ego is very fragile. They do not like the idea of pleasing others. They are also quite competitive in the work environment. The transition to adulthood was painful but was faster than what was anticipated. The native was a rebellious young-adult who was angry at the unfairness of the world. 

♉︎Taurus / Venus in the 6th House:

People with this placement tend to be very stubborn about the way they want to live to be the best option for them (and perhaps everyone else too). They will not change anything about what they are doing for anyone’s sake. And when it comes to it, their daily routine is pretty lazy and focused on one’s pleasure. They want everything to go smoothly and under their control. They do take care of themselves but it a more self-indulgent way than anything. They like making plans so that they can enjoy it. They are likely to accept other people to custom their daily lives to their own. They are not very disciplined people when it comes to taking the right actions for an order to take place in their lives. Taurus rules the throat, including the neck, thyroid gland, and vocal tract. The native might be prone to inflammation of the tonsils, sore throats, and thyroid imbalance. They are sensitive to catching a cold more than most people. Anxiety can catch up with them when they see things not going their way and when their peace is disrupted by circumstances. A test of their optimism is something they fear but inevitable. When working for other people, they make sure to make themselves feel comfortable. They’ve got a way of making their superiors like them but it is a forced relationship. Even if they tend to be lazy in the work environment they are capable of keeping things under control. The transition to adulthood was very slow since the native is stubborn when it comes to giving in to nature. The native was surprisingly a patient and peaceful young adult.

♊︎Gemini / Mercury in the 6th House:

The daily lives of these people with this placement tend to be very busy and hectic. Thankfully, they are very capable of taking on a lot of things at once. They are very curious about health and what is the right path for them to follow when it comes to self-actualization. They are very adaptable to sudden changes in their routines and have no trouble with organizing. They seem to be very talented when it comes to recognizing the necessary actions to be taken so that their lives will come in order. They always have a back-up plan when things seem to go wrong. They might have a tendency to always “be on a diet” since they have an immense curiosity for the field of health. These people are highly analytic and seem to be afraid of being ill. They are likely to be one of those people who constantly google symptoms. Gemini rules the nervous system which includes the shoulders, lungs, arms, hands, and fingers. They might be prone to carpal tunnel syndrome, anxiety, nervous or fidgety problems, smoking-related illnesses, and breathing issues. When working for other people, they are very good at doing the right thing and following orders. In the work environment even though they seem cool and capable on the outside, inside a lot of nervousness can be bothering them because of their desire of being perfect at what they are doing. The transition to adulthood was very awkward for them and caused a lot of anxiety on their part but they adapted rather quickly. The native was a young adult who was always on the run trying to achieve their goals as soon as possible.

♋︎Cancer / Moon in the 6th House:

When it comes to their daily plans these people base them on their emotional needs which are changeable hence the reason why they find it hard to have a steady structure - not that they are complaining. They like the fact that their lives are unpredictable and ever-changing. They stick to their gut feeling when it comes to knowing what is the best thing to do for their bodies and livelihood. Their mother might have influenced them a lot when it comes to self-discipline or on the contrary, it was so lacking that they had to become their own mothers and teach themselves about nourishment through trial and error. They are not comfortable with restrictions and discipline. The idea of a routine can lead them into depression. Flexibility is important for their mental health. Cancer rules the chest, including the breasts and stomach. The natives can face problems concerning these areas. The mother might also pass on an illness to the native. But the emotional ups and downs caused by past traumas will be the biggest concern for the chart owner. In the work environment, they are well-liked. The people they work for or work with seem to feel close to these individuals even if the native is not really doing anything intentionally. Their intuition is working well when they are doing their jobs. The transition to adulthood might have had been very hard for them. Their biggest emotional problems probably occurred during their “growing pains”. As a young adult, they were quite emotional and well known for their vulnerability. 

♌︎Leo / Sun in the 6th House:

It would be a hard task trying to make these people do whatever they don’t want to do. They can be pretty selfish when it comes to their plans and comfort zones. They go about their days confidently, thinking the universe only works for them but this is not the case. When they come face to face with this harsh truth they self-sabotage and make the most childish choices. They are forever creative individuals who never want to grow up. They can be introverts since they only feel confident in themselves when they are in control and other people will only bring discomfort into their daily lives. Even though they are very intelligent and creative they do not like to collaborate with people for similar reasons. Leo rules the heart, spine, spinal column and upper back.If these people do not follow a passion and know joy, there can be heart disease. It is crucial for them to live their everyday lives just the way they desire. It is not possible always of course. This is the reason why for their constant depression. Once they let go of the control issues they will get rid of the depression for good since the energy of the sun has immense healing powers as much as bringing too much focus in the place it's shining on to. In the work environment, they are very efficient IF they are working on their own. There is a great chance for them to outshine everybody else surrounding them which will lead to jealousy issues. The transition to adulthood is almost non-existent since they refuse to grow up. As a young adult, they were well-known for their creativity and talents.

♍︎Virgo / Ceres in the 6th House:

This placement feels right at home but it does not make it any easier for the owner. They are very fixated on perfection when it comes to their work, daily lives and self-actualization. They have one of the most analytic brains which can give sudden anxiety. They always feel the need to make sure everything is in the right order, but what is right and what is wrong depends on the circumstances. Not having the answers to problems makes the native nervous. They are always in constant search of what is the right thing to do. Since the answer to this is vague the person with this placement always feels incomplete. They have to watch out for trying to fill this hole with addictions. Virgo rules the digestive system, which includes the intestines, and spleen. People with this placement might suffer digestive problems in addition to addiction and anxiety problems. Their hyper-awareness needs to be tamed. Meditation and mindfulness are highly recommended to these individuals. They are also very helpful individuals. Concerns of others become their concerns also. In the work environment, they are hard-workers. They tend to tire themselves out to the point of exhaustion and they tend to overlook their health when their work is on the line. The transition to adulthood came naturally since they were eager to work and take care of themselves on their own. But once they are fully grown they miss their youth greatly. As a young adult, they were well-known for being workaholics and perfectionists who were nervous wrecks from time to time. 

♎︎Libra / Venus in the 6th House:

With Libra’s energy being here balance seems to be the one thing the native of the chart is striving for more than anything. With balance comes peace and beauty but in order to understand and value the true meanings of these things other than what is on the surface these people have to have a taste of chaos and imbalance in their lives. Only chaos gives birth to such beauty. Balance in their daily lives is essential for these people since the circumstances are extra hard on them. The ruthless side of Venus shows its face here. The sign of Libra rules the kidneys, skin, lumbar region, endocrine system, and buttocks. People with this placement might come face to face with health problems concerning these areas. It is a great signifier of how they have to get their act together at this time. They have a tendency to wait for a significant other to help them on their journey of self-actualization which seems to be their downfall. Relationships seem to affect their health greatly. Being dependent on others will cause their personalities to be unstable. Extra care needs to be taken on their own being. In the work environment, they are quite artistic and seem to take care of anything that is out of order in their jobs. They are very flirty with their co-workers. During their transition to adulthood, they have blossomed beautifully. They had to go through a lot of tests concerning relationships. As a young adult, they could’ve had been heart-breakers and a lot of people had crushes on them. 

♏︎Scorpio / Pluto in the 6th House:

When the antagonist of Demeter’s story comes to rule her house we might come across some friction here for the natives of the chart in a house that friction is already dominating. These people are masters at planning things. They can manipulate other people to adjust their lives according to their own. They are capable of controlling other people without even trying but there is a lot of karma that follows them without their knowledge. They are master manifesters but unsatisfaction with their daily lives seems to be a curse they have to deal with. It is almost like they have a great sense of what other people are going through and how can they fix it for them (or make it worse) but when it comes to their lives not only are they clueless but they always feel out of place. Keeping their powers of manifestation on a leash can actually do wonders for them. They need to take extra caution of their thoughts, especially of others. They need to stay away from any kind of obsessive behavior. The sign of Scorpio rules the reproductive system, sex organs, bowels, and excretory systems. They can have health troubles in their lives concerning these areas when their life is out of order. Once they put their lives in order and be careful of not adapting manipulative behavior, there is nothing that can stop them... They have the potential of becoming magicians almost. They can especially work their magic in the work environment. They have a way of climbing on the top of everyone else very quickly. They have a powerful influence on people. The transition to adulthood was almost transformative. Something inside had died and now they are the phoenix who rose from its ashes. As young adults, they have done things they regret but thanks to those mistakes they are capable of great things in life now. 

♐︎Sagittarius / Jupiter in the 6th House:

The sign and planet of expansion are still going to do its job in a house that is all about discipline. Sagittarius is also all about higher knowledge hence the reason why the native of this placement will have an undeniable desire to know about their health and what is the right thing to do for self-actualization. The more it is ignored the larger the problems concerning these areas. The chart owner has to be aware of the issues surrounding their bodies and life-style - blind luck and optimism will not be on their side when it comes to these things if they are not taken into consideration. But once they are noticed and taken care of the native will be very auspicious. Sagittarius rules the thighs, hips, liver, pituitary gland, and sciatic nerve. If they face with health troubles especially around these areas, the native must take immediate action and take their soul-journey in their body seriously. After all, we are spirits who are having a human experience and anything that is of earth needs to be respected... especially our bodies. In the work environment, they are extravagant. It is hard to not notice them and the work they do. They are naturally good at doing what they put their hearts into but if they do not feel enthusiastic about their jobs they will be slacking. The transition to adulthood was overwhelming for them. Their optimism might have had been tested but they gained confidence as they mature. As young adults, they were always out and about and having fun. They have learned the most important lessons in their late teens and early twenties. 

♑︎Capricorn / Saturn in the 6th House:

Capricorn can be extra hard on the native of this chart within this house which it shares a familiar theme with. Living life seems like a test they were not prepared to take and they always ask for extra time to complete. Serious caution and consideration need to be taken because once the health of the native is neglected serious consequences will be paid. The great magic of Capricorn (also Saturn) is that once the lesson is learned, that is it. Now you have mastered the issue. With mastery comes confidence and great self-respect. Capricorn rules the knees, joints, skeletal system, and teeth. The natives of this placement might need to take extra care of these parts of the body. Another concern might be anxiety which 6th house (Virgo) already is a natural at and together with Capricorn it is doubled. Counseling might help a lot. Health problems the father had suffered might make a come back in the child (the chart owner) so be very careful of that as well. The work-life might also be something the person is not very that much into as well. Even though the progression is slow for them success is guaranteed as well as great recognition for the job they do. They might even surprise themselves when they discover how good they are. The transition to adulthood was pretty slow for the individual as they did not really wanted to grow up at all but life goes on and with age, they get better like fine-wine. As young adults, they have struggled with a lot of fears. When they finally face those fears the monsters vanish and all that is left is endless opportunities. 

♒︎Aquarius / Uranus in the 6th House:

These people are very talented in coming up with creative ways to put their lives in order. They are also very helpful and put their friends' minds at peace as well when it comes to balancing things out. Being out of control might stress them out like no other thing though. They do not like the idea of surprises and fear change. What you fear is what you get. They have learned to master their ways around sudden changes so that they will not be as affected as they used to. They might have had suffered unexpected illnesses no matter the caution they had taken. Aquarius rules the ankles, calves, shins, and circulatory system, therefore, these areas of their bodies might have had suffered or tend to get injured easily when their life is out of control. It is a way of our bodies telling us “get it together”. It is essential for them to know exactly where their future is going. They might be very intuitive. They might have flashes of insight concerning the future. These people are ought to do important work for the progression of humankind in one way or another. They have to feel like the job that they are doing is helpful for someone, out there. Their work environment is a place where they are advised to expect the unexpected. If they are truly satisfied with the fact that what they are striving to do in their job is what they were meant to do then there should be no concern. They have a tendency to be really good friends with the people they work with.  The transition to adulthood was nothing like they expected to be. It was pretty shocking and life-changing. As young adults, they might have felt alienated from their environment because they were on a quest to find what was their mission here on Earth. They were on the constant search for their soul-purpose and once they found it there was no turning back. 

♓︎Pisces / Neptune in the 6th House:

In this placement the 6th house feels distorted. This is the effect of Neptune on everything it touches but since Virgo is the opposite of Pisces, this touch is grander here. People with this placement tend to give in easily when it comes to what other people want from them. They tend to over estimate their own needs and put others needs first. The sense of some sort of a schedule only comes through other people. Sleep problems might haunt these people when they are not taking care of themselves. Pisces rules the feet, toes, lymphatic system, and body fat, when they are not following the right path these areas of their bodies are highly affected by their wrong doings. Pisces also rules the psychology to a certain extend. Hidden depression is a major concern these people might come to face with. They need to recgonize their bodily needs. It is essential for them to start to notice how their bodies demand respect from them. They need to learn to set up boundaries between them and other people and that is when things will start to get better for them. In their work environment, they are very idealistic. They have high expactations from themselves which can get in the way of actually doing the job the best they can. They need to take things less seriosly and let go of their ideals and only then they can manifest those ideals. They might not really have a clue about what they are doing or what they want to do. They need to allow themselves to take their dreams seriosly and pursue their dreams - not what other people tell their ideal job should be. The transition to adulthood was easy for them, or so they thought. They hid away their problems during this transition, to the subcouncious and they have to deal with them in the later years. As young adults, they were known for being carefree but were they really? 

(Art: “Demeter Mourning for Persephone” by Evelyn De Morgan)

[livingbythewords]

Theo Raeken, Scott McCall and the concept of betrayal in friendship - a Teen Wolf meta

Recently I came upon an interesting and somewhat subversive perspective on two phenomena that have been occupying my mind for a long time – friendship and betrayal. Because these two themes are not only often present in Teen Wolf, but are at the very core of season 5, I had some thoughts on the psychological concepts of friendship and betrayal in relation to the series.

General consensus in our view on both friendship and betrayal suggests that we tend to view friendship as a natural state of things developing through mutual trust and loyalty with love at its core, whereas betrayal is viewed as disruptive event that causes mostly pain, confusion and destruction. The perspective I am talking about considers the possibility that "the roots of both [friendship and betrayal] may draw their energy from the same deep layers of the human psyche" (French, Gosling and Case, 2009) and that betrayal is in fact not something that comes out of nowhere and disrupts friendship, but rather precedes it and constitutes its inherent part. It also introduces a very interesting concept of "virtuous betrayal", which may be regarded as "betrayal in the service of a higher purpose‟ (Krantz, 2006). Both betrayal and friendship are therefore complex phenomena, which according to the authors are interdependent and have deep impact on each other.

I'm going to start from the concept of virtuous betrayal, which to me is interesting and rather uncommon and puts Theo's attempts at dismantling the McCall pack in a new light (at least to me). In Status Asthmaticus (season 5, episode 10) Theo fully reveals the motivation behind his actions:

I never lied about why I came to Beacon Hills. I'm here for a pack. I came for the were-coyote. The one whose first instinct is to kill. I came for the banshee. The girl surrounded by death. The kitsune, the beta with anger issues, I came for Void Stiles. That's the pack I want. Unfortunately, it doesn't include Scott.

What we see here is something which may be regarded as a fundamental difference in Theo and Scott's understanding of what the pack and friendship as the force that binds it means. Scott's understanding of friendship has its roots in the concept that Aristotle called vera amicitia or amicitia perfecta, a 'disinterested friendship', where the well-being of the others is of primary concern, and he is ready to make sacrifices he considers necessary (for example, his willingness to join Deucalion's pack of Alphas, knowing that there might be no way out of it once he agrees). Meanwhile Theo regards the pack mostly in terms of power and safety, where the element of friendship is non-existent. In his speech, he emphasizes only traits which are mostly viewed as negative, which is very revealing when it comes to his understanding of the world and its rules. He genuinely believes that removing Scott from his position as the pack leader is for the greater good; to him, friendship, love and caring that constitute the basis of Scott's pack are all weaknesses. This is the result of his formative years spent under the 'care' of The Dread Doctors and the values instilled in him, which are the exact opposite of what Scott believes in. Theo views the pack and leadership through the lens of utilitarianism, "to the exclusion of the pursuit of virtue and commitment to the good" (French, Gosling and Case, 2009), which is the complete opposite of what Scott believes in. He knows the Doctors' main goal – unleashing of the Beast of Gevaudan – and wants to get out alive; his main goal is survival. It is worth mentioning that he also operates from the point of a deeply rooted inferiority complex ("I'm not even a real werewolf"). Therefore he believes that what guarantees him survival and safety is securing his position as the leader of a pack by fear and control instead of mutual trust and loyalty.

This perspective raises the question of the degree to which he can be held responsible for his actions. I tend to disagree both with the view according to which Theo is considered only a victim, as well as the one which considers him only a "bad guy" without taking into consideration all the mitigating circumstances surrounding the way he was raised. We all act according to the values imprinted in us in early childhood, which shape the lens through which we view the world. Therefore, I deeply disagree with the view that Theo 'deserved' whatever happened to him. Of course, he does have the ability to make choices, and it doesn't excuse the bad ones he made (for example killing Josh and Tracy). However from his perspective, all the choices he made were necessary for both his survival and his attempts to feel whole, to be a real person instead of an artificial construct he perceives himself to be.

How does this relate to theory I mentioned above, which considers betrayal not only a fundamental part of human experience, but an inherent element of friendship, which in fact inevitably precedes it instead of outside force that disrupts it? Well, at this point it became obvious to me that this is exactly how Theo perceives the world. According to James Hillman and his reflections on betrayal as viewed through the myth of the Garden of Eden, betrayal is a natural and necessary stage in the „unfolding‟ of human consciousness (Hillman, 1975, in: French, Gosling and Case, 2009). Through betrayal, our real self is born, as it was depicted in the myth of the fall of Eden, in which the "death" described in Genesis – „of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil you shall not eat, for in the day that you eat of it you shall surely die‟ (Genesis 2:16) – means the death of illusions that we as human beings like to hide behind, for example perceiving people as either good or bad without understanding that humans are complex beings with different motivations and initial circumstances that formed them. In the case of Theo, he was already put at a deep disadvantage comparing to the rest of the pack members and had no chance to develop positive and healthy values and coping mechanisms that would enable him to earn what he desired instead of taking it by force, which was the only way he knew for his whole life. Again, that doesn't in any way negate traumas and hardships the other members of the pack went through, neither excuses Theo's behavior and the choices he made. I'm simply pointing out the factors that were a huge part of why he did what he did.

Now, let's get back to Scott. It's interesting to me that Scott, despite the fact that this view of the world and the values he believes in are very different than Theo's, seems to understand his motivations, at least to some degree:

Scared people do things you wouldn't believe. (season 6, episode 12)

Life can’t ever be all bad or all good. You know, eventually, things have to come back to the middle. (season 5, episode 1)

Especially the second quote (regression to the mean theory) is interesting, because to some degree it agrees with Hillman's theory about betrayal being the necessary part of evolving human consciousness and the 'death' of illusions that humanity develops to avoid facing uncomfortable truths about themselves (such as Stiles rejecting the 'shadow' part of himself which then manifests as the Nogitsune). Scott's deeply empathetic and caring nature explain his enormous ability to forgive things that most people would consider unforgivable, which is reflected in the scene of his death:

SCOTT: They're not like you. They never will be.

THEO: Because I'm a Chimera? Because I'm not a real werewolf?

SCOTT: Because you're barely even human.

Barely even human. Even in his darkest moment, as he is dying at the hands of his former close friend and now his greatest enemy, Scott refuses to fully dehumanize Theo. He doesn't call him a monster. He doesn't hurl insults towards him. He still considers him a person. In fact, he never in the course of the whole show acts hostile towards Theo or mistreats him, not even once, although he would have plenty of reasons. The main emotion he expresses towards Theo is deep disappointment. He doesn't even express regret in having trusted Theo. He decides to trust him again by sending him with Mason to the tunnels and by asking him to get to the hospital to take care of his friends, which – if this trust was misplaced – could have serious consequences.

Although perspective on betrayal as a fundamental part of human nature inevitably connected to friendship may seem somewhat pessimistic, it may also seem the opposite. "In our heart of hearts, we carry both experiences together: they coexist, so that if one is dominant, the other is always present as a 'shadow' (French, Gosling and Case, 2009)". From that perspective, we can understand the necessity of forgiveness more deeply and be ready to work on and develop our ability to forgive, which can in time become our greatest strength instead of our greatest weakness. Just like in case of Scott McCall, who – by forgiving the unforgivable – made his enemy, the man who betrayed him, turned his friends against him and murdered him, into his trusted ally.

[therosefrontier]

Whumptober Day 5

No. 5 - I’VE GOT RED IN MY LEDGER

betrayal | misunderstanding | broken nose

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Genshin Impact | Zhongli and his memories

(crossposted to AO3)

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“I met with Azhdaha again yesterday.”

Zhongli started his story while seated on an old stone platform in Guili Plains, a low crumbling stone wall behind him, an ancient tablet the only company by his side. “Virtue grows tall like a tree, though there be shade it will flourish forever,” the dome-shaped tablet read. At times like these, he often wondered at what all the author of those words had in mind when she wrote that.

“I…assumed this would happen, one day. Elemental spirits are nigh immortal beings, and it would be foolishness to assume that a sealed spirit won’t some day find their way out.” Zhongli paused for a moment, his words feeling heavy on his tongue, as if someone really were here that he had to explain this too. “He…left, of his own accord,” he finally said. “His spirit is once again sealed in the mountain. Although, we may very well meet again. I simply might dare to hope that next time, it would be under better circumstances.”

“My life is nigh on eternal. I will go on with the infinite flow of time. And you, Morax... You too will live for many a day to come.”

But Azhdaha would never again be free. This…this was their contract.

Zhongli looked down at his hands and at the ground, the events of many centuries earlier being all too clear in his mind. The events of yesterday were but a brief addendum to what already happened. Azhdaha’s roar of rage and pain, his accusations of treachery, the underlying grim reality of knowing that all of Liyue could be in danger if he didn’t end this here and now…all of that happened, already. Yesterday, Azhdaha was divided, his rage and his benevolence split into two beings. The first time they fought, the benevolent and wise Azhdaha that he once knew was nowhere to be found.

“I never thought I’d be able to speak with him again, like he was. Well, it wasn’t his form necessarily: his consciousness had possessed a random human, but still, once his memories were regained, the words and the voice were most certainly his.” Zhongli smiled weakly. “I must admit, that despite the inherent peril of the situation leading up to this meeting, I was glad. To see him, that is. It…was as if he were still alive.”

 “Rex Lapis, we are at your command,” Moon Carver assured him with great gravity, he and Mountain Shaper and the other watching the approach of the rampaging earth dragon with a steeled gaze, ready to fight.

Rex Lapis hesitated only for a moment. Only for a moment did he allow his heart to twist in pain, did he allow his eyes to lose their vivacity as he looked down from the sky at the dragon who cursed his name through his own unfathomable anguish. There was no solution, he knew. Erosion was something that could not be reversed. But he didn’t want to believe it. Not for Azhdaha. He didn’t want to lose him, too.

“We will lure him into the cave underneath the mountain. Follow my lead.”

 Zhongli found Azhdaha as a spirit sealed deep in the earth, a simple but unique rock without sight or motion. His stirrings had been the cause of many earthquakes and tremblings, so Zhongli thought it fit to draw the spirit of stone up from the earth and grant his wish, to give him a chance to be free in the world outside. They made a contract, then. Zhongli always made a contract, with those he invited to join him. There was only one for him for which such an agreement was delayed…only because at first, he did not know what their partnership was even to be called. It was one of many ways that Guizhong confused him.

But for the great stone dragon, their agreement was clear. If Azhdaha ever endangered Liyue and brought ruin to order, he would once again be sealed in the dark.

Zhongli always kept true to his contracts.

 “Come, I wish to show you something,” Morax beckoned him with a slight smile, bringing his friend up to a ledge overlooking the waters, the sun setting over the mountains in the distance and washing the sky with color.

“What is this?” Azhdaha asked in a deep and booming voice, although its powerful aura was perhaps mitigated by the way he spoke with the curiosity of a child. “I have seen this water before; now it is different?”

Morax chuckled softly. “Take a moment and have a look.”

Azhdaha came up over the ledge with thundering steps. “Your sun looks different. The color has changed. Is it nearing death?”

“No, no, not at all,” Morax explained with a slight touch of amusement. “This is a sunset. The sun will soon disappear over the mountains. You asked last night why the light leaves the sky in such a way. So, I thought I’d bring you here to watch. Of course, the motion of the sun can be observed anywhere, but it carries a different effect, in some locations. The sun will change its color now, but after it disappears, it will come back the next day just as it was before.”

Azhdaha hummed in acknowledgement, then plopping down onto the grass with a shaking of the earth. “So now, we sit and watch?”

“Yes, I say we shall.”

 “Morax, how do I look? Unimposing? Like a true human?”

“You look very well,” Morax agreed with a smile. It was in an elemental spirit’s nature to be able to change shape and form, but this was Azhdaha’s first time doing it on his own. His human form wasn’t exactly all that ‘unimposing,’ being that of a man quite large and broad-shouldered, but he looked enough like a human, at least.

“Mm, that is acceptable.” Azhdaha put his newfound fists on his hips and looked down at the Guili Assembly plaza down below. “It is time to interweave myself with humankind. I wish to first try the foods that people keep telling me about. I do not see the appeal of this ‘Grilled Ticker Fish’ that Pervases speaks of, as it is merely a single fish, but I wish to obtain this first, so that I may give him my full opinion!”

“Sounds like a suitable plan,” Morax agreed with a nod. “Then, let’s not keep our human and adepti friends waiting.”

 Zhongli remembered his form then, strong with a youthful wonder that wizened into ancient wisdom over the passage of time. It was so startingly unlike the form half of him took yesterday, of a child with a bitter glare in her eyes.

“So here lies the wisdom of the gods? Destroy all deemed redundant, enlist tyrants to ravage the wilderness!” Jiu mocked in her (his) fury.

Zhongli had a contract to keep. He had to seal Azhdaha away. There was no choice.

“Is once not enough!? You would forsake me again!?”

It wasn’t what he wanted. But was there…really nothing he could have done? If he had stopped the humans from mining in the Chasm, if he had noticed the change in Azhdaha, if he had just taken the time out of his duties to pay him a visit, then maybe…

“Erosion ground Azhdaha’s consciousness into oblivion. Slowly, he forgot the face of his old friend, and his memories of defending Liyue Harbor disintegrated,” Azhdaha in Kun Jun’s vessel recounted his own story with a faint smile of regret.

Zhongli couldn’t stop erosion.

And yet…he mourned what came to pass.

Zhongli had known, for a very long time, that he would never again be able to mourn as a mortal would. Azhdaha was far from the only one he has lost to time and conflict. The name he called him, “Morax,” was a stark reminder of this, that name which he had walked away from a long time ago but never truly shed. Morax was a god of war, a slayer of thousands. Morax had for a long, long time grown used to the bloodshed that was Liyue’s reality, as god fought against god in the Archon War and sacrificed hoards of soldiers as pawns. Morax felt no disgust or horror when he walked through a battlefield after the fight was over, stepping over bodies and walking through pools of blood and entrails as he coldly assessed the damage done.

In some ways, Rex Lapis was no different. For that matter, neither was Zhongli. Although his thoughts on war had changed—he would avoid it through the employment of contracts and words, if at all possible—he could never feel the same revulsion towards death and bloodshed as a human would.

Rex Lapis saw many scores of yaksha and other adepti swear fealty to him over the millennia. They would give him their loyalty, and he would make a contract with them, and he would know, because of how many times it had happened already, that they might give their lives in his service. They might fall to the evil that plagues the land in battle, or they may be consumed by the very filth they faithfully eradicated. Rex Lapis did not consider their deaths to be meaningless, nor did he ever wish to sacrifice his subjects as a pawn of war, but…he might have accepted, at some point long ago, that such deaths were inevitable and necessary.

He could not mourn as a human would—or rather, as a human without authority might. A war god had to know, lest he be blind, that he was sending his people to possible death.

He bore that weight, and he accepted that responsibility.

But in that responsibility…what did that mean for Azhdaha? Whose soul was crushed not by the many battles they fought together, but by the erosion of the earth itself?

He was sealed forever by Zhongli’s own hands. That was their contract. That was justice.

He always kept his contracts. No matter the price, no matter what he had to do…even if it was a pact paid in blood with Celestia, he did what he must for the sake of Liyue…

But was it true? Did Zhongli, in that near-final meeting, betray Azhdaha?

“I did what I must,” he spoke again to the stone tablet, cold and motionless despite the warm words inscribed upon it. “Virtue grows tall like a tree, though there be shade it will flourish forever.” But how did one define what “virtue” meant? How much of this “shade” was acceptable? This increasing debt, made in blood…

“His anger, however, does seem justified, in a certain way.”

“Guizhong?” He looked up, a small drop forming in his near-human eyes. “Did I do the right thing?”

[imagineaworlds]

I Love You (Part Forty-Seven) -- Aaron Hotchner

Written By: @desperately-bisexual

Request: None.

Warnings: Cursing. Mentions of PTSD, Dom/sub relationship, death, etc-- everything Criminal Minds.. I think that’s it???

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Greenaway!Reader

Word Count: 12575

Timeline: Season 7 Episode 01. Three months after part forty-six.

For the past three months, the team had worked dozens of different cases across the country, but none of them mattered except for the one that Morgan, Garcia, and I had been working on privately. Since I came back to work and was deemed the temporary unit chief, I decided to reopen the Ian Doyle case. At first, it was just me. When I wasn’t at work, I was at home, hiding in the upstairs office, working on trying to piece all of the evidence together to figure out where the hell Doyle could have possibly gone. But then it was just too hard to keep doing it on my own, and all of my resources were wasted. There was only one person who had access to more information than I did. Garcia. So, I asked if she would be willing to help me, but it was impossible for her to keep a secret, so we invited Morgan to help us. From there, we managed to find Declan, but we didn’t tell anyone about it outside of our small group of three.

Finding Declan was an interesting process. I had hit a wall with it, hence why I acquired Garcia’s help, but she managed to find him almost immediately after she told Derek what was going on and he helped profile Emily in order to profile Declan. He figured that she had been the one to move him considering how she died protecting his identity and location. Before joining the team, apparently she lived in Reston, Virginia, something I didn’t know about her, but he managed to know. From there, we decided that it was probably to be close to Declan. So, we started narrowing it down. We knew that she liked cul-de-sacs, so as Garcia was going through the school system to find kids that looked like Declan, she compared if their guardian looked like Louise, his nanny, and if they lived in a cul-de-sac. Then, bam. We found them.

Morgan had been the one to offer up the idea of looking for Declan before Ian because if we found Declan, then so would his father eventually, which made our job easier. After that, it was just a waiting game. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much we could do beyond searching all of the footage to see if Ian ever showed up, which he never did. When Morgan and I were away on cases, Penelope kept an eye on him; and when we were in town but not working on anything, Morgan was driving baby Emily out there and taking her on walks around Declan’s neighborhood to scout the place. I think it was also just an excuse for him to have Emily more.

On our way to work one morning, Morgan and I stopped to get sandwiches for lunch, as well as some donuts from Leonard’s for the office since we were feeling generous, I suppose. At work, we split off so that he could sit in the bullpen while I dragged my feet up to my office. I didn’t understand how Hotch did it. Being away from the team all day, every day was so… isolating and exhausting. There was no joking with Morgan, teasing Reid, or… well, when Emily was around, there was no more chatting with her and gossiping about Hotch. I missed the way she used to slide in veiled threats into the conversation about how she would hurt him if he ever hurt me. So, then again, maybe it was a good thing that I wasn’t down in the bullpen anymore. Sitting at my old desk would have just given me a reason to sit there and stare at her desk all day, reflecting on what it was like to have her around, wishing that I could bring her back.

By lunch time, Morgan rescued our sandwiches from the fridge and brought them up to my office. He closed the door behind him and sat down across from me. I caught my sandwich as he threw it at me, then tossed him a water bottle from Hotch’s secret stash in his bookshelf behind the desk. I hadn’t really changed anything. For the most part, the office was still exactly how he left it. From the artwork to the family photos, to the stacks of case files that he practically left for me on his desk to work through, to his computer wallpaper of us, it was all still Hotch. The only difference was that I was finding all of his secrets now, like the water bottles, and totally taking advantage of them.

Morgan kicked his feet up on the desk, something Hotch would’ve never let him do in a thousand years, and dug into his lunch. I picked at mine for a moment while thinking. I was doing too much of that nowadays. Without my “other half” (or some cliché shit like that) around, I didn’t really know who to talk to 24/7 about what I was thinking and feeling. Sure, I could’ve talked to Morgan, but it was different. When I talked to Morgan, it was like we were brainstorming for a solution; but with Hotch, it was just like he was there to listen, and I could go on and on for hours, and he would hear me out, and he would only offer up a solution if he felt it were necessary. Sometimes I just liked ranting my thoughts to him. I liked watching how he would slowly get lost in the details of my face as I would be talking, and how he it looked like he was falling in love with me over and over again with every minute that passed. Skype and calling on the phone every day didn’t do that look justice anymore.

“Oh, my god—Oh, my god—Oh, my god!” Garcia came running into the office with a laptop balancing on one of her arms. Morgan and I turned to face her. “It’s him! It’s him!” She quickly set her laptop down on my desk and pressed play on a video. Morgan and I both leaned forward in our seats to watch the security footage from Declan’s house. “It’s Doyle—” She paused and pointed to a driver in a car passing by. It was kind of hard to see, but when she zoomed the image in and enhanced it, it was undeniably Ian Doyle.

“When was this?” I asked, jumping into action by standing from my seat and started collecting everything we had on this case thus far.

“Two hours ago.”

“He could have Declan by now. Fuck.” I looked at the two of them to say, “Okay, I think it’s time. I’m going to call Hotch to let him know, meanwhile, I need you guys to get the team together and start explaining everything. I want Reid and Rossi to go retrieve Declan and Louise after they’re briefed.” I grabbed my phone from my desk. “Go.” Just as they were leaving, I dialed Hotch’s satellite phone out in the Middle East.

Hotch and I had still been calling each other every day and Skyping as often as we could. The longer he was there, however, the busier he and I got with our two different jobs, which made it increasingly complicated to keep up with each other. But we made the effort. We knew that if at least one day passed where we wouldn’t talk, one day would inevitably turn into two, then three, and so on. I didn’t want to stop talking to him. As boring as the conversations could get at times, at least I got to see him. He was growing out a beard that I happened to love, but Jack hated. He claimed that it made his dad look old. When we could talk in private a little bit later, I told Hotch that I thought it was hot, and that I couldn’t wait to pull at it while he towered over me. He disliked when I teased him like that, though.

When I called, he picked up almost immediately.

“You’re calling awfully early,” Hotch said over the phone, “are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Do you have a minute?”

“For you? I have all the time in the world.”

I blushed to myself and looked down to watch the toes of my shoe dig into the ground over and over again. “There’s something you need to know, baby, and you have to promise to not get mad.” He didn’t say anything. “Morgan, Garcia, and I have been looking for Doyle while you’ve been gone.” Still, nothing. “We found Declan.”

“What?!”

“Hotch—”

“Why didn’t you tell me about this, Y/N? Do you know how stupid that was? Your whole career could—”

“I don’t care about that, Hotch. I really don’t. I knew that finding Declan was the best way of finding Ian, so I asked Garcia to help; and you know her, she couldn’t keep it to herself, so she told Morgan, and he insisted that he help us. He’s basically the one who found Declan. Without the two of them, I wouldn’t have any leads.”

Hotch sighed quietly. “Is Declan safe?”

“Yes.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Morgan’s still surveilling him—But, Hotch, listen, we were right. By watching Declan all this time, we got eyes on Ian.”

He hesitated for a moment. “You’re sure?” He sounded more scared than angry now. I hummed a “yes” in response. “Baby, listen to me right now.”

I bit my lip. “I’m listening, Sir.”

He chuckled slightly. “If you get eyes on Doyle, you need to take the shot. Got it? Don’t let him get away again.” He sounded out of breath now like he was running around. “I’m coming back to help.”

I felt my heart skip a beat and the air leave my lungs with one shocked gasp. He was coming back. After three months, I was finally going to get to hold him in my arms again, and I was going to get to kiss his lips again. Holy shit. He was coming home. My husband was coming back to me. I almost wanted to dance and cheer, scream from the top of my lungs how happy I was and that I couldn’t wait to see him; but I had to show a modicum of respect still, so I buried that feeling until I would get to see him again.

“You can do that?” I questioned cautiously. As happy as I was, could he really just abandon his post to come back like that? It sounded almost too good to be true.

“I put in the request to transfer back to Quantico about two weeks ago.” And he didn’t tell me? “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to get your hopes up on anything; but they don’t need me here anymore, so it’s not a big deal if they find a replacement.” I hopped slightly with joy and giggled. Hotch chuckled at me. “I can’t wait to see you, baby.”

Even considering the circumstances, I couldn’t wait to see him either. “Call me when you’re landing.”

“I will. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

----

By the time Garcia followed traffic camera footage across the state just to see where Doyle was hiding out, we had a SWAT team with snipers on call, and the team was ready to head out there. Just as I had ordered, Rossi and Reid headed to get Declan, but the drive was pretty far, so I didn’t expect to hear from them for a while, especially while we were in the early stages of staking out Doyle’s place. Morgan, JJ, and I were trapped in a van across the street from his apartment while SWAT was just down the road, and they had two snipers up on separate roofs. All of it was my call, though. The second we had reasonable cause to believe that it was actually Ian Doyle up there, I would be the one to dictate if the snipers or Morgan would be taking the shot, like Hotch said.

“That’s all Hotch said? ‘Take the shot’?” JJ questioned warily. I nodded and shrugged. “You’re sure?”

“I’m sure. Why?”

She shook her head. “Nothing…”

I eyed her suspiciously for a moment, taking into account how her gaze wasn’t resting on one thing, but instead a thousand different things, like she was too anxious to focus. It was odd, but I shrugged it off with the excuse that finding Doyle was a big deal. Since he killed Prentiss, we had all been itching to find him and avenge her. Out of everyone, I knew that JJ would want to know that Doyle was dead because of us. She wanted that justice. I couldn’t exactly tell why, but she had always been like that, especially since getting promoted to being a profiler.

And then my phone started ringing with a call from Spencer who had just arrived at Declan’s house. I figured it was just an update. I mean, him and Rossi were there to simply pick up Declan and Louise, that was it. But then something worrying happened when I picked up the call: Reid sounded concerned.

“Reid?”

“Declan’s missing,” he answered quickly.

“What?”

“We just searched the house, and he’s gone, so we called the school to see if he even made it home, and they told us that his mom picked him up early.”

“Louise?” I speculated.

“I doubt it.” He sounded annoyed now. “She’s dead.”

“Fuck,” I cursed under my breath, then looked up at Morgan and JJ to tell them what was going on. They also cursed, and he hit the side of the car. “Okay. Reid, you and Rossi should meet us here in case we end up seeing—” The sound of a police car’s siren flew past our van, catching our attention. It was just a squad car. No, no, no, no. Fuck. That was going to scare Doyle off. Fuck.

“He’s inside!” Morgan exclaimed. We all turned to face the window to see the drape in Doyle’s apartment window shaking like it had just been disturbed. “I saw him!” Morgan was already fiddling with the door handle and pushing his way out of the car.

“Shit…” This wasn’t at all how I imagined this going down. We were supposed to just monitor the situation, get legitimate confirmation that Doyle was in there, not just Morgan claiming he saw him— But what choice did we have now? “Go, go, go,” I made the call, following Morgan out of the van and hanging up the call with Reid.

JJ, Morgan, and I raced inside first, the SWAT van pulling up behind us and the team moving in, too. When we reached the apartment number, JJ and I stood our ground in the hallway with our weapons raised, and I gave Morgan the signal to kick the door down, which he did without hesitating, and then he dashed inside. The three of us took turned towards different sides of the apartment in order to clear it. Morgan went straight into the living room/bedroom, JJ went into the bathroom on the left, and I stepped into the tiny kitchen on the right. He wasn’t there. Neither was Declan. Reid said that they couldn’t find Declan, so I only assumed that Doyle got to him first. Fuck! How the fuck did he—

“I’ve got something!” Morgan called out. I hurried into the living room/bedroom to see him peeking up at the ceiling inside of the closet. I cocked a brow and carefully approached. “He’s climbing to the roof.” There was a hole in the ceiling for some kind of secret tunnel that led upwards.

“Follow him,” I ordered. “I’ll take the steps. JJ, watch the door downstairs to make sure he doesn’t get out, and coordinate with SWAT to make sure that the block is locked down just in case. Get a crime scene team here to see if Declan was ever here.”

Morgan holstered his weapon then quickly pulled himself up into the tunnel to follow Doyle, meanwhile I hurried out into the hallway to start sprinting up the rest of the stairs, and JJ ran down them. How the fuck did this happen? How did we lose Declan like this, and how was Doyle actually planning on getting out of this?

And then I burst out onto the roof to see Morgan chasing after Doyle who was running for the fire escape on the side of the building. Morgan aimed his weapon, but didn’t shoot. Instead, he tried commanding Doyle to stop. Like that would help.

“I’ve got the shot,” one of the snipers said over the comms.

“Don’t shoot!” I exclaimed. “Don’t!” I knew what Hotch said about taking the shot if given the chance, but things were different now that we couldn’t find Declan in the apartment. Our only way of getting him back now was by keeping his father alive. Asshole. “Hold your fire!” When nothing came, Morgan tackled Doyle and spun him onto his stomach so that he could be handcuffed. “You got it?” I asked him. He nodded while slapping the cuffs on Doyle. “I’ll have JJ take him back to the office while we start going through everything downstairs.”

Morgan groaned as he yanked Doyle up onto his feet. “You’re not gonna let me take a crack at him?”

“Not yet.”

Doyle chuckled. I squinted at him while searching his eyes for a reason that he could have possibly found this funny. He noticed my curiosity. “Lauren was right about you.”

Morgan tugged on Doyle’s restraints to make them hurt. “Shut up.”

Doyle kept laughing as Morgan pushed him towards the stairwell so that JJ could take him to the office like I had ordered. My only question, however, was, what the hell did he mean by that? Lauren was right about me? Right about what? The question lingered in my head as I sighed and moved to walk downstairs, too.

Afterwards, hours passed while we were combing through Doyle’s apartment, trying to find clues about where he must have taken Declan, as well as compiling evidence connecting him to Valhalla and Prentiss’s death. For someone in hiding, there was a lot he had with him. Usually, people in his situation would stay minimalist and wouldn’t have all of their condemning evidence in one spot, but Doyle was so cocky that he wouldn’t get caught that he didn’t bother to keep any of his current business elsewhere. There were so many guns in that one apartment that we could have started another small army. I couldn’t understand how on Earth someone would need all of that. Then again, Doyle already had a small army, and the reason they needed to smuggle all of those weapons out of the state was so that he could maintain power in Europe while he was underground. Well, looked like all of that was worthless now.

I sighed as I stepped outside of that tiny, dirty, smelly, cramped apartment for the first time in over ten hours. It really took that long. Doyle had been sitting at the office the entire time, brewing in his own thoughts, which was our strategy to break him. If he was left in darkness and silence long enough, he would open up. Hopefully. At least, Morgan and I would give it a shot when we would head back to the office. For now, we were down tearing the entire apartment to shreds. The bastard even had papers hiding behind the wallpaper.

When my phone started buzzing in my pocket, I sighed again and dug it out. “Hotchner,” I answered.

“Mmm… I could get used to that,” Hotch’s voice echoed over the phone, making me melt.

I perked up within an instant while looking down at my watch, spotting the time and how long it had been since he last called me, and how he promised he would call when he was close to landing in Virginia. Finally, I thought. “How close are you?”

“Ten, fifteen minutes.”

It was almost morning already. He was probably going to be landing just as the sun would start to peek over the tall buildings of Quantico. “I’m coming to pick you up.”

“Y/N, you should stay—”

“Nope,” I interrupted adamantly.

Hotch chuckled. “You’re really going to be a brat about this right now?”

“Mhm. You can scold me for it when you see me.”

“God, I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“Hey, sunshine,” Morgan said, sneaking up behind me, “you ready to go?”

“I’ll see you in a few minutes, baby,” I told Hotch. Before he could say anything in return, though, I hung up on him. I hid my grin as I buried my phone in my back pocket, then turned to face Morgan. “Can you handle the interrogation for a bit while I head to the airport?”

“He’s back already?”

“Yeah.”

Morgan nodded. “Go get him.” We smiled at each other. “No detours, though, sunshine. There and back.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I responded half-heartedly while already walking away from him. “Just remember, when this is over with, you and Clooney are going home!”

----

To say I was nervous would have been a drastic understatement. I had gone four months without seeing him. Four months without his touch, his kiss, his hold, his love. A lot could change in four months. People could grow apart in four months. I was absolutely terrified that even though we called each other every day, we might not have been the same Hotchners who said goodbye to each other at the airport a few months ago. I knew that I still loved him endlessly— maybe even more now that I had been starved of him for so long. But I didn’t know what happened to him out there. I didn’t know what new experiences he had that could have possibly changed him. For all I knew, he could walk off that plane in a few minutes and walk right past me without a care. I just prayed that he was still Aaron. That the man I fell in love with would walk off that plane and know exactly how to hold me again. It was like I could already feel his touch, even though the plane’s engines hadn’t died out yet. He was so far, but he was so damn close. This was the closest we had been in four fucking months, and I was just so ready to see him already.

The plane came to a slow and steady stop on the runway. With every second that passed, I felt a growing need to throw up everywhere. He was probably sitting in there, watching me through the window, grinning ear to ear because I looked so nervous and sick. He could likely see me, yet I couldn’t see anything but the sun in my eyes. He was always an asshole, but he even had to beat me to the first look. Asshole x2.

The door of the jet popped open, and it started slowly falling down towards the concrete, the stairs on the inside making a slow appearance. I thought about what was going to happen. How was I going to react? How was he going to react? Was it better to stay where I was or was it better to meet him at the bottom of the steps? I felt like even if I wanted to move towards the plane, I wouldn’t have been able to. I was frozen in place as my mind raced with questions and endless possibilities. But there was one thing that was consistent: I was going to hold my husband in my arms, and I was going to tell him that I loved him over and over again until I passed out.

The second I saw a foot step out of the jet, I started sprinting as fast as I could without stopping to think. The rest of him emerged, and Hotch looked around for me. After spotting me from the top of the stairs, Hotch jumped down the steps, dropped his bag on the runway, and started running towards me, too. He held his arms out, an invitation for me to jump and hold him tight, so that was exactly what I did. Our bodies clashed, but he still managed to catch me, even though the force sent him stumbling back a few unwanted steps. My arms flew around his shoulders, my legs wrapped around his hips, my face buried in the crook of his neck. It didn’t matter that he smelled like sweat, sand, and cheap deodorant, because he was finally home with me and that was all that mattered. Hell, I even enjoyed the smell since it just meant that I had him in my arms again.

I squeezed him tight with my arms and legs after he nuzzled his face— beard, sunglasses, and all— into the crook of my neck. The aching in my chest, my broken heart that had been falling apart during every second that he was away from me, slowly started to mend with every breath we took together. I couldn’t tell if I wanted to cry, scream, cheer, laugh, or all of the above. Every single emotion imaginable was flooding my body and the only way I could cope with it was by nearly squeezing the life out of him while repeating: “I love you, I love you, I love you” over and over in his ear. I never wanted to stop saying it. I prayed that he would never let me go again and that we could say those three words until there was no more breath in our lungs.

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” we kept whispering like we were records stuck on repeat. Fuck, I missed the way he said it to me. I missed the way he said my name and the way he called me “baby”. Nothing felt more right than how he spoke to me and how he kissed my neck in between words.

When his beard started tickling my neck, I finally paused to let out a giggle. I leaned back, his arms still around my torso to hold me for support, and I got a good look at him for the first time in months. There was no screen between us, no shitty computer cameras, no god awful Skype buffer, no speakers that cut out every other word. He looked so different than how I remembered him. His face was slimmed behind the scratchy beard he had grown, and his eyes were more sunken with exhaustion— if that were even possible. Aaron Hotchner always had dark circles under his eyes, that was no secret. Between work, the kids, and wrangling me, Hotch never had time to sleep; but Pakistan kicked his ass, and I could see it in every little detail about him.

He watched me with the brightest smile I had ever seen on his face as I brought my left hand up to his face and scratched my nails gently down his beard. “This is even hotter in person,” I smirked.

“It has to go the second I get an electric shaver,” he laughed.

My smirk fell and I pouted, “Are you sure?” He nodded. “But I have literally never wanted to fuck you harder in my entire life.”

He paused and gulped. “Okay, so maybe it can stay for a few days.”

I perked up again at my little victory and scratched it again. “Please don’t ever leave me again. Please.”

“I’d rather die than go away again.”

“Don’t be hyperbolic, Agent Hotchner.” I hit his shoulder playfully. He grinned before tightening his arms around me again to make me lean in for a kiss. I grabbed his face, the hairs on his cheeks tickling my palms as I did so, and I moaned into his mouth. “I love you so much.”

His eyes screwed shut as he slid his tongue into the kiss and claimed dominance. I missed that feeling so much. I missed how he tasted, how he smelled, how he felt, how he had to dominate me every second of every day. I missed getting lost in his eyes and staring at his lips all day until I could finally kiss them until our lips were chapped. If there weren’t a million and one things going on outside of that airport, I would have begged him to take me inside and fuck me in the bathroom. It should have been impossible to need him that much considering everything that was going on with Ian Doyle, yet there I was, only thinking about showing Aaron Hotchner how much I loved him.

Hotch pulled away from my lips, but he kept his nose pressed to mine. “Emily?”

“At home with Jessica.”

“Jack?”

“At school.”

“You?”

“The most relieved I have ever been in my life.” I leaned in and kissed him again. I thought to myself: “Please, never let this end. Let us stay trapped in each other’s arms forever. Never let us get tired of kissing each other, of holding each other, of saying ‘I love you’. Never let the desperation for passion die. Never let me miss him ever again. Keep him by my side until we die of old age. Please.”

And just like he could read my mind, Hotch loosened his hold on me ever so slightly, making me drop down to my feet, and he said, “We should get back to the office.”

I shook my head. “Just… One more minute… Please.”

“One more minute will turn into an hour at least, you know that.”

“Is that so bad?”

“No, it isn’t.” Hotch cupped my cheeks and kissed me as hard as he could. After a short minute of him kissing me like he had been starved of it for years, Hotch pushed me away. Our hands fell to our sides and I bit my lip while I tried to focus on not jumping on him again. “We have to go.”

I tried to catch my breath, my chest rising and falling at a dramatic pace. It took every ounce of strength and self-restraint I had stored away to not jump back on him and kiss him again. I felt like I was going to cry because he wasn’t in my arms again. I felt like screaming and kicking— throwing a tantrum like Jack would. I felt like at any moment, the two of us would break, and I would tackle him to the ground before showering him in kisses and pinning him down so that he couldn’t leave me again.

Hotch stumbled away from me to grab his go-bag from where he dropped it because he had the same look I had, and I knew that he was sharing the same thoughts. When he came back, he took my hand, and we walked towards the car. I started catching him up on everything we knew about the case thus far. Ian and Declan, all of Ian’s business papers that he had in his apartment. I realized then just how little we actually knew. Hopefully by the time we got back to the office, Morgan would have something out of Doyle that would help.

I drove the whole way to Quantico because he was too tired from the flight and the time zones. He had one of my hands trapped in his instead of on the steering wheel, and he kept kissing my knuckles again and again. He wasn’t listening to me. Not that I blamed him. If he wanted to just talk shop and I was sitting there, not distracted by driving, I would’ve been antsy to shower him in love, too. But Morgan said no detours. As much as it pained me, he was right that there really wasn’t any time to drive home, or even pull to the side of the road to fuck Hotch. I really, really wanted to, though; so, I figured the longer I distracted myself with work, the better off we would be. After this, though… Once this was all resolved… I wasn’t letting him go.

At the office, Hotch and I headed up to the sixth floor, somehow managing to go that entire time without touching each other. I wanted to kiss him again. I wanted to hold him again. While we were standing in the elevator, I stared at him and thought about pushing him against the wall, but it wasn’t worth it right now. I hated this inner battle I was having to fight between wanting him all to myself in that very moment and just focusing wholeheartedly on the case. The worst thought hit me suddenly… Maybe it would have been better if he didn’t come back so soon… I mean, he was just so distracting, I felt like I couldn’t celebrate this win as much as I should’ve been.

And then we stepped onto the floor.

“Hey.” Hotch grabbed my hand, tugging me back a few steps towards him. “You trust me, right?”

I furrowed my brows as I turned to face him. Of course I trusted him. Why wouldn’t I? He was my husband, and we made a promise to each other a long time ago to not keep any secrets from one another. I had no reason to doubt him. I wouldn’t have met him at the airport like that if I didn’t trust and love him wholeheartedly.

“You know that I do everything for a reason?”

What was he on about? Was there something I missed between meeting him at the airport and walking into the building with him? Why was he suddenly acting so weird?

I put my hands on his biceps. “Listen. I know that you told me you were in an all guys unit. If there’s something you want to say about it, I’m all ears. And I’m going to support you no matter what.” I bit back a smile.

Hotch cracked a smile. “No,” he shook his head, “that’s not what I mean.”

“Phew.” I rolled my eyes playfully. “I thought I was going to have to give you the birds and the bees talk, and how love is love—”

“Shut up.” He laughed before kissing me.

I pushed him back gently. “I’m just saying, if you’re going to cheat on me, it should at least be with a guy so that you get to experiment a bit.” I patted his chest.

He was still laughing quietly. “What am I going to do with you, Agent Hotchner?”

“I don’t know, Agent Hotchner,” I responded as I let him pull me back in for another kiss. “I’m sure you’ll think of something before we get home after this case, though.” I pecked his lips again, then escaped into the board room.

Everyone was standing behind the round table, huddled together as they discussed something about the case. It seemed as though Morgan had just finished his first attempt at getting information out of Doyle, to no avail. They were discussing how he was going to approach the second try, but no one’s ideas seemed to stick since Morgan had an excuse for why none of it would work. It was like we had hit a dead end, even though Doyle was the end, technically. He was the one who took Declan, and he was the one who took our sister from us. Prentiss was dead because of him, and we weren’t going to let him get away this time.

When Hotch walked into the room, everyone fell silent and turned to get a look at him. Hotch really didn’t seem to care about our no PDA at work rule now, because as everyone’s eyes lingered on him and his beard, Hotch came over to me, took my hand in his, and kissed my cheek. A lot changed for him in the Middle East, I guess. He missed me and he didn’t care what rules we had. He wanted to just have me around all the time, and I couldn’t blame him. But, technically, I was still the unit chief until Hotch could officially come back, and I couldn’t let us break the rules. Now I understood why Hotch was always so adamant about me behaving while at work. It was excruciatingly painful to not touch and kiss him just because I was the boss and had to set an example.

I moved away from Hotch, taking my seat at the round table. Everyone followed my lead warily, their eyes still trained on Hotch. Him and JJ didn’t sit, though. They were the only ones who stayed on their feet at the front of the room. Hotch had his arms crossed, a frown hiding under his facial hair, his eyes wandering around the room as he thought nervously about something. This had to do with him asking about my trust, but I didn’t understand how. Him worrying about something and not telling me almost immediately was only making me worry, too. He needed to spit it out fast or I would go insane.

“Everything alright, Hotch?” Morgan asked, also taking notice of Hotch’s clear unease.

Hotch didn’t nod or give any kind of reassurance that everything was alright. Instead, he shifted his weight on the balls of his feet— a silent tell that something was definitely wrong. He kept his head down now, only glancing up through his lashes occasionally to look at me. A thought struck me that maybe my joke wasn’t really a joke in the hallway. Four months was a long time to go without me, and it probably didn’t help that all he got was shitty phone sex. Maybe he really did change out there in the desert. Maybe he was showering me in love because he was going to drop a huge ass bomb that said: “I’m leaving you” or “I’m quitting the BAU and running away forever” or “I’m taking the kids and you’ll never see them again.” Every shit scenario possible was racing through my head. Like I said, if he wasn’t going to spit it out soon, I was going to start screaming for answers.

“Nine months ago,” Hotch began, “I made a decision that affected this team. As you all know, Prentiss lost a lot of blood after her fight with Doyle. We told you that she succumbed to her wounds…” He hesitated a beat. “That’s not really the case.”

Shock filled the room as it dawned on each of us what Hotch was really saying. I didn’t want to jump to any conclusions because I really, really didn’t want to get my hopes up… but it sounded like he was telling us that Prentiss was alive. That over the past seven months, we have been led to believe that she died in that hospital.

“The truth is, the doctors were able to stabilize her, and she was airlifted to Bethesda under a covert exfiltration.”

My shoulders fell. So, it was true. Emily Prentiss was alive. The woman we mourned the loss of for seven months was… still around all along? That was why Hotch asked if I trusted him. That was why he was being so handsy. He knew that I hated it when he kept things from me. He knew that I hated it when he would betray my trust like this. I yelled at him for weeks the last time he did it— which was our suspension over two years ago. He was asking about trust and touching me as often as he could because he didn’t know if this admission of the truth was going to break us apart. This wasn’t like him lying and going to ask for a transfer out of the BAU. This wasn’t like him lying to me about his health. This was Emily Prentiss. This was our sister we lost in the field. We buried her. Why did Hotch… What… I— My thoughts were too scrambled to form another cohesive thought other than: “How could he do this to us?”

“After she got better, she was reassigned to Paris, where she was given multiple fake identities so that she could be safe,” Hotch continued.

“She’s alive?” Spencer finally asked the clarifying question we were all dying to know the answer to.

Hotch nodded shortly, keeping his eyes lowered. He wasn’t even looking at me now because of the shame and guilt he likely felt.

“But we buried her,” Spencer croaked.

Hotch nodded again. “If anyone has any issues with the executive decision that I made, then they can take it up with me.”

“Issues?” Morgan asked angrily. “Issues, Hotch? Yeah, I’ve got a few issues, but why don’t you start with the fact that you let your own wife believe that Emily was dead and let them name your daughter after her because of it, hmm? Don’t you think that you owe Y/N an explanation?”

“Morgan,” I hissed quietly. It was neither the time nor the place to discuss my daughter. I had a few choice words for Hotch running through my head, but I fully intended on keeping them to myself until Hotch and I could speak privately.

“Emily’s alive, Y/N. How are you going to explain that to your daughter as she grows up?”

“Stop it,” I demanded more harshly.

There wasn’t anything Morgan could say to me that I didn’t already know. Hotch had betrayed everything we believed in and promised each other. He had told me countless times since meeting me that he would never lie to me, and every time he ended up breaking that promise, he would tell me that it wouldn’t happen again. But there we were. Another promise broken. Even worse, though, was the fact that he made a vow to me on our wedding day that he would always be honest with me. Always. And yet he kept this a secret from me. Did he not trust that I could have kept it a secret? Morgan was right, I was owed an explanation. Hotch kept this from me, his wife for nine months. What else was he hiding? How was I ever supposed to trust him again?

I stood from my seat and turned for the door. No one said anything as I took a step but came to a sudden halt when I discovered that my path was blocked by someone in my way. I felt like I was going to pass out. There was she was: Emily Prentiss… standing right in front of me. Back from the dead.

She let out a sigh of regret, but also relief, when our eyes met. She looked sorry about how all of this happened. And she should have been. Morgan sat on our couch for months, crying because he missed her so much. I named my daughter after her because I missed her so much and I wanted her memory to be remembered. What was it all for, though, now that was standing there? What was the point now? Morgan was right to be vocally angry because he knew that I couldn’t. But as mad as I was at Hotch, I felt an overwhelming need to hug her. I crashed into her. I didn’t hesitate. Nine months without her. Nine fucking months.

Emily caught me as I embraced her as tightly as I could. She rubbed small circles on my back as she held me close. “I am so sorry, Y/N.”

I sniffled into her shoulder while I hugged her tighter. She was there. Like, really there. I wasn’t dreaming or hoping anymore. It was her. Our family was back. And I was just so relieved. I couldn’t even be mad at her. But I could tell as I pulled away from Emily and turned to look at the room with her that Morgan was pissed beyond compare. Everyone was crying because they were so grateful for the fact that she was still alive. However, Morgan wasn’t. He was standing there, pouting with disbelief, his hands curled into shaky fists that were holding in all of his anger.

She carefully let go of me and approached Morgan. “Derek, you have to believe me when I tell you that not a day went by where I didn’t think about you guys and how sorry I am that things turned out this way. You didn’t deserve that.”

“I didn’t deserve to know that you were alive?” he questioned through gritted teeth.

“You didn’t deserve to hold a dying friend in your arms.” Prentiss extended her arms for another hug, a silent offer for him, which he took slowly, as if he were afraid that he would fall right through her like she was some kind of ghost. When they embraced, however, I saw Morgan’s anger wash away. Now, he was just broken. “I’m so sorry.” He squeezed her waist as tight as he could for as long as he could before she tapped out and parted from him. She turned to face me again. “I want to meet baby Emily, if you’ll let me, once this is all over.”

I nodded, still too hesitant to say anything.

She smiled. “Okay… For now, I just want to focus on finding Declan and bringing him home safe. What do you guys know so far?”

Reid immediately jumped to his feet like this was his moment to shine, and he started asking her questions about Declan, Ian, and Louise, but I couldn’t hear anything. Everything seemed so washed out and distant. The only thing that was clear to me was the shame on my husband’s face as I stood there, staring at him, silently letting him know just how badly he had fucked up this time around. He could hardly look me in the eyes.

“Can I see you in my office?” he asked.

Everyone watched us silently, wondering if I would correct him on the fact that it was my office now. Or maybe they were waiting with anticipation to see if I was going to blow him off considering I had been glaring at him the entire time since I found out that Prentiss was alive this whole time—and he knew! But that was exactly why I indulged him. I didn’t correct him, I didn’t argue with him, I didn’t embarrass him. I simply followed him to his office.

I sat in my chair at my desk, which all used to be his before he left. He sat down across from me in one of the seats I would sit in whenever I was called to meet with him in his office. He seemed so out of his element in that chair, and, honestly, I was glad. I wanted him to be uncomfortable. I wanted him to be physically and emotionally uneasy because that was how I felt every day while he was away, and that was how I felt since finding out that our daughter’s namesake was actually alive and well.

“Were you ever going to tell me?” I inquired, reclining back. He shook his head. “You were going to just let me think that she was dead in order to, what, make me feel better about naming our daughter after her? Why didn’t you try to stop me—”

“I did try. I asked you if there were really no other names you could think of, but you were so adamant about it and I couldn’t tell you the truth; so, I just had to let it happen.”

“Is that why you left?”

Hotch froze for a moment while searching my eyes, and before he even began nodding, I knew the answer. He sighed. “It was hard to keep lying to everyone, but it felt impossible to keep lying to you specifically, especially since you took Emily’s death so hard… So, I just… I ran.”

“So, you would have stayed if I knew the truth?”

“Yes.”

I scoffed and let out an exasperated chuckle.

“Baby, I am so sorry, you have to believe me. I wish things hadn’t happened the way they did.”

“Yeah, well, you had a choice in that, didn’t you?”

“Y/N, that’s not fair. I was just trying to protect her—"

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door, proceeded by Garcia cautiously stepping into the office. “Sorry, ma’am, but I found something.”

I nodded her over, holding my hand out for the file of information she put together. Hotch eyed me. Usually, it was him sitting in my current seat, ignoring me in his seat as he accepted another file from Garcia who had addressed him in the first place. Everything felt so backwards. But, then again, maybe that was what he deserved now that I knew that he had been lying to me this entire time.

“I was narrowing down a list of Doyle’s top ten enemies from what we know and what Morgan’s getting out of him. The only one who’s been in the states recently is Mr. Richard Gerace. He’s been here for the past two weeks with a work visa.”

“Is there any way to connect him to this?” I asked while flipping through the file.

“The guy who cut off the camera feed at Declan’s house had a scar on his neck...” She turned the next page for me and pointed to a mugshot of Gerace. He had the same exact scar on his neck, meaning it was definitely him who took Declan.

“Get me everything you can on him, please, Penelope,” I said while closing the file and setting it down on my desk. She hesitated. “What is it?”

“That’s everything I have.”

I sighed. “Can you call Prentiss in, please?”

“Sure…”

“Thank you.”

When she left, I sighed and looked at Hotch again. Neither of us said anything as we stared at each other uncomfortably, a barrier of trust broken between us now. I didn’t like it when he lied to me. Every time I told him not to lie to me, he promised he wouldn’t, and then he would, and I would be mad for a few days before forgiving him and moving on. How much longer was I supposed to put up with it? I couldn’t even count how many times he lied to me on my fingers anymore. Meanwhile, I could count the number of times I lied to him on one hand. At some point, enough was going to be enough, and if he wasn’t careful, it was going to be soon. As much as I loved him, I couldn’t keep living with the lies. What was more important to him? Me or protecting his secrets? If the answer wasn’t immediately me, then there was an entirely different conversation we needed to have at some point that included what our future was going to look like.

“We’re going to talk later,” I finally told him.

As we were coming back to the office together, Hotch stopped to ask if I trusted him, and at the time, of course I did… But now? I wasn’t so sure. Then again, I’d said that a dozen times before when he pulled this shit. The worst part was, that I knew that I was going to end up crawling back to him, and it was going to be an excuse for him to lie to me all over again.

Hotch nodded. “Yeah…”

There was another knock at the door, this time from Prentiss, who seemed too shy to invite herself in, even though I had requested her presence. I waved her in.

“Gerace,” I said, holding the file out for her. She slowly walked over and accepted it. “Garcia thinks that he’s the one who took Declan.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” she insisted before even looking at the file. I waited for her to explain why she thought that. “Gerace gave up on Doyle a long time ago, and he’s too much of a coward to pull something like this off. Not to mention how meticulous the abduction was. Gerace doesn’t have that level of patience and organization.”

I scoffed and wiped my palms over my face. “He was our only suspect and lead.”

“I mean…” She flipped through the file. “That’s definitely Gerace’s scar… So, I suppose he had something to do with it, but I wouldn’t say he’s solely responsible. If he’s working with a partner, he’s definitely the submissive.” She flipped another page. “Hold on—” I looked up at her. “Look at this.” She turned the file to show me one of the shots from the security footage of Gerace turning the cameras off. “Look in the background.” There was a woman standing there, watching Gerace while cocking a gun at her side. Prentiss’s jaw dropped as a realization dawned on her. “This might have something to do with Declan’s birth mother, considering the overkill towards Louise, who was Declan’s mother figure throughout his entire life.”

“Do you know who she is?”

She shook her head. “No. Doyle never told me.”

“Would you be willing to go in and get the information out of him now?”

She looked between me and Hotch, almost as if she were waiting for permission from him, but then she recalled that I was calling the shots right now until Hotch could be reinstated into the unit by Strauss and Cody. She finally gave in. “I don’t mind giving it a shot.”

Since Prentiss was still just a visitor, she couldn’t technically be allowed to wander the floor on her own. Even though she knew exactly where the interrogation room was and how to get there the fastest, I still had to usher her there. So, without saying anything to Hotch, I started walking out. Prentiss watched him silently for a moment before deciding to follow me.

“You know,” she said while catching up to me on the ramp outside of my office, “unit chief suits you.”

“It won’t last long. It’s just until Hotch can come back.”

We continued on towards the interrogation room in silence. When we stepped into the mirror room, I saw that Morgan and JJ were there, watching Doyle who was sitting on his own, staring at the wall while he silently thought and worried about his missing son. With others around to “officially” watch Prentiss, I took my leave almost immediately, heading back to my office so that I could sit down, catch my breath, and have a moment to think.

When I got there, Hotch was already gone. I glanced across the bullpen to see that he was in the boardroom with Rossi, Reid, and Garcia, all of them working on finding who Declan’s mother was in case that was the next fresh lead we would get from Doyle. They were fine on their own. For just a few minutes, I could disappear, and no one would notice. So, I closed the door, spun the dial of the blinds until they were shut tight, and I immediately broke down. I didn’t even make it to my chair or the couch. I just fell right then and there.

I started crying with my face hiding in my hands. Getting Hotch back should have been the best thing in the world, and yet it felt so shitty. I hated that he lied to me again. I hated that things went down like that. I hated that our daughter was mixed up in the drama of it all now just because of her name. I hated that I was mad at the love of my life after just getting him back, because instead of wanting to hold him close until our last breath, I wanted to kick his ankles until my anger was gone—If my anger would ever go away.

And then there was a knock at the door.

I tried catching my breath and calming down enough to wipe my tears away, but the door opened before I could collect myself entirely. I hid my face in the shadows. It didn’t matter who it was because I was just hoping that they would leave me alone now that they saw me collapsed on the floor and hiding my face while sniffling.

“Sunshine?”

I let out a choked sob when I realized that it was Morgan who had followed me from the mirror room to my office. “What?”

He knelt beside me and put a hand on my shoulder. “Come here…” He turned me slightly until I was facing him, and we immediately pulled each other in for a tight hug. I hid my face in his shirt, letting my tears soak the fabric without care. “It’s okay. I promise. Just breathe.” He rubbed circles on my back to help me calm down slowly.

I started to catch my breath by sucking in deep breaths and letting out short ones. “You shouldn’t have brought up Emily earlier,” I whispered.

He had been completely out of line when he brought up my daughter in the context of Prentiss still being alive. That was a conversation for me and my husband to have at a later time when we could talk privately. It didn’t give him permission to put our predicament on blast. I was sure that everyone had been thinking it, too. I mean, they were all probably wondering the same thing I was, which was what the hell were Hotch and I going to do now that Prentiss, our daughter’s namesake was back? But, honestly, it was none of their business. Yes, Morgan was her godfather, but he wasn’t her father, therefore, he had no say. He would be the first to know when a decision would be made, of course, but not before then.

I slid out of his arms and fell back against the wall carefully to just sit there and stare into the darkness. “It wasn’t fair,” I continued.

“I’m sorry, cupcake…” He slid down the wall to sit beside me, then took one of my cold hands in his. “My emotions have just been all over the place, and I snapped when I didn’t mean to. I know that’s not an excuse, but…” He sighed.

“I get it.” I rested my head on his shoulder. Of all people, I understood the most how Morgan felt.

“Did you talk to him?”

“Kind of…”

“Are you going to forgive him?”

“Unfortunately.”

Morgan swung his arm around me so that he could hug me close to his side. “Do you ever just miss the old days when things were so simple? Gideon and Elle were still on the team. Pretty boy was still dorky and quiet all the time. Hotch actually talked to us and trusted us.”

“You mean talked to you and trusted you.” I chuckled. “He didn’t talk to me when I first joined the team.”

“Yeah, because he had a schoolgirl crush on you. That doesn’t mean he didn’t trust you. But wasn’t it so much easier back then when you two weren’t together, and everything was just about putting the back guys away, and nothing was ever personal…” He sighed. “I think we just haven’t been the same ever since the Fisher King.”

He was right. That was the first case where we were all effected personally, and an Unsub got under our skin, and tore our family apart. I mean, I assumed that it was because of Randall Garner that my sister left the BAU. If we had never gotten mixed up in that case, maybe she and Gideon would still be around. But then again, if that were the case, then we wouldn’t’ve had Rossi or Emily on the team, and I was genuinely happy that I knew them and that they were apart of our family now. Rossi was Hotch’s best friend who liked to help me pick on him from time to time. Emily was one of my closest friends… At least before she left. I didn’t know where we stood now. That was what Morgan meant by things being easier back in the day, though, I supposed. Things weren’t so messy.

“I think you’re right,” I agreed quietly.

----

Not even an hour later, Prentiss had already convinced Doyle to tell us who the mother of his child was and how to find her. With Garcia’s help, we managed to track her down. Her name was Chloe Donaghy, and she was a notorious crime lord who ran a human trafficking and prostitution ring. She and Ian had met about eight years before Prentiss met him. When she found out that she was pregnant with Declan, she tried to kill herself to make sure that his son would never be born, but Doyle stopped her before she could even swallow a single pill, and from that point on during the pregnancy, she was his prisoner. He kept her locked away. She was chained to a bed in a locked room in his heavily guarded home for seven months straight. She was given a healthy diet for herself and the baby, and Doyle had a doctor go to check on her every other week or so to make sure that they were still okay. Once she had the baby, however, she left. She wanted nothing to do with Declan, and everyone knew it, so Doyle practically paid her to stay away and to never tell a soul about their son.

However, once she found out that Ian was a wanted man and was in hiding, she decided that she wanted a piece of him in the name of revenge. So, she got the same idea as us. Knowing that Ian would try to find Declan, she waited until someone found him first—which happened to be us—and once she knew where her son was, she jumped at the opportunity to take him when everyone was too distracted to notice. We managed to track her down to Baltimore. It looked like she and Gerace took Declan down there, and they were planning on selling him to another one of Doyle’s enemies, a man by the name of Lachlan. That wasn’t good. If Declan left U.S. soil, there was nothing we could do. It would be left up to the CIA or another agency similar to them, but they wouldn’t care. So, I made a call.

I decided that the best way to ensure that little boy would never die at the hands of a revenge driven monster like Lachlan was to have our team pursue this. I knew the risks involved with the choice. I knew that my career was on the line, and that I would inevitably be demoted as unit chief—if I were lucky. Worst case scenario, actually, was that I would be fired. But I didn’t care in the moment, because all I could think about was the fact that there was a little boy out there, wondering why his own mother was doing this, and why he was facing danger again. And then I thought about Jack. Declan was around Jack’s age. I couldn’t bear to think that it could have been Jack in Declan’s shoes, and that if that were the case, I would want someone to fight for him until he was safe at home.

So, I made the call to use Doyle as a pawn in our game. We loaded Doyle into an SUV with myself, Hotch, and Morgan, and we drove down to the airstrip where Garcia found out that Chloe and Lachlan were catching a flight at together. Emily was against the idea. She was concerned that Doyle was going to get away, or that Chloe was going to get Declan and Ian, and all of this was for nothing. I wasn’t going to let that happen. We were going to get Declan back, and we weren’t going to let Doyle get away. After everything that happened over the past few months, I was going to die before fucking this up.

“You wanna do it, or should I?” Hotch asked as we pulled up to the jet on the runway. I gestured that he could go for it, but I didn’t look at him or say anything in response. I still wasn’t ready to do that much. “Okay.” Morgan handed him the megaphone, and Hotch stepped out of the car to announce, “Lachlan McDermott and Cloe Donaghy, this is the FBI. We know that you have Declan Doyle. To ensure his safety, we would like to make a trade. Declan for Ian Doyle.”

That was our cue to show off Doyle to the world, so Morgan and I pulled him out of the car, making sure that our grip on him was strong enough that he couldn’t wiggle out. And then we heard a gunshot, and I saw a muzzle flash from within the jet. No. No, no, no. There was no way they just killed Declan. I refused to believe it, but just in case it was true, we kept Doyle close to the car so that we could stuff him back in and drive off if we had to.

Suddenly, the door of the jet started falling open, revealing the steps that Lachlan started storming down with Declan in front of him. I let out a quiet sigh of relief at the same time as Ian. It didn’t last long, however, since Lachlan immediately put a gun to Declan’s head.

“Bring him here!” Lachlan demanded, referencing Doyle.

Hotch looked over at me. “You’re still the unit chief. It’s your call.”

I sighed quietly while trying to quickly weigh the pros and cons. It certainly wasn’t ideal to put Doyle in Lachlan’s line of fire, but if it was the only way to get Declan…

“Now!” Lachlan yelled.

Within an instant, I was pushing forward, Morgan following lead by helping me move Doyle towards Lachlan. When we were close enough, we pushed him onto his knees and waited for something to happen. Lachlan smiled wickedly. He said something to Doyle, but I wasn’t listening while my attention was trained on Declan and trying to figure out how I was going to grab him on time while Morgan made sure he still had a grip on Doyle. I just had to trust the process, I supposed.

When I heard movement from the jet again, I looked up to see Chloe limping out, holding her stomach from the shot she took from Lachlan. They must have argued about taking our deal. Before I could tell her to stay back, though, I saw how she was raising her arm and aiming at me, Ian, and Morgan.

“Gun!” Morgan shouted, tackling me out of the way just as the sound of a gunshot rang through the air. I groaned as the wind was knocked out of me. Morgan rolled off me to check to see if I was okay. “Are you hit?” I shook my head. “Doyle—” He spun around on his knees to see Ian falling to the ground while holding his bleeding neck. “Shit.”

Another gunshot fired, this time from Chloe aiming directly at Lachlan, instantly killing him. In retaliation, Hotch, Reid, Prentiss, and JJ all shot down Chloe as fast as they could. Hotch ran over to me, putting his hands on my cheeks while scanning my body with my eyes to make sure that I was alright, the same way Morgan had. I inhaled sharply as I caught my breath. I got that Morgan was just trying to protect me, but did he have to go all high school footballer on me? Fucking hell. We were on concrete. The tackle was worse than getting shot, in my opinion.

“Next time, I make the call. And it won’t be this one,” Hotch whispered to me, brushing my hair out of my face.

“Ha. Ha,” I responded sarcastically. “Help me up.” We clasped our hands together, and he pulled me to my feet, letting me stumble into his chest somewhat before I caught my balance. “Thanks.” I patted his chest. “This is why you’re the unit chief.”

He kissed my forehead. “You thought you were doing the right thing, and that’s all we can ever do.”

I glanced over to Doyle who was reaching out for his son, knowing that it would be the last time. A part of me broke somewhat. As much as I despised Doyle, I had nothing against his son, and seeing a bond between a father and his son, even though they hardly knew each other at all, made me think about Hotch and Jack. It could have been Hotch instead of Haley who died in our house two years ago. We were beyond lucky that he was still with us. That I had a husband who loved me, that our daughter had a father who wanted nothing more than to raise her away from all of this chaos, that our son still had a father who would protect him no matter the cost. We were, by some definition, “lucky” that it wasn’t Hotch and Jack there instead of Ian and Declan.

----

By the time we cleaned up the mess at the airstrip, I had called Jessica and asked if she could bring Emily to the office to surprise Hotch, but also because Prentiss asked if she could meet her, and I felt like after the long day we had, we all deserved that. I mean, she was our little sunshine. If anyone could change the mood entirely, it was her.

So, when we all returned to Quantico, I told security to keep an out for Jessica and the baby—to which they all cheered about how excited they were to see her. The team went up to the boardroom to start tearing down all of the photos and evidence on the walls. Another chapter of our lives closed. Over months, we had been working on a case where we only had a fraction of the pieces. The only person who knew every part of it and could end this once and for all had left, but when she came back, it ended, and now we could just breathe again. We had our family back. That had to count for something.

When I saw Jessica arrive in the elevator, I met her there so that I could still surprise Hotch and Prentiss. “Thank you for bringing her,” I said while crouching down in front of the stroller to see my lil’ bug. She was half awake, but just lucid enough to play with my finger as I wiggled it in her face. “I owe you.”

“It’s no big deal, I swear. I was on my way to pick up Jack from a playdate, and this was on the way, anyhow.”

I glanced up at Jessica. “We can pick him up later. You don’t have to race around for us like this.”

Jessica smiled lightly. “What else am I going to do?”

I stopped to think about that for a moment, considering how we were her only family around now that Haley was gone, and Roy was… Well, Roy didn’t like having Jessica around because she was a very hands-on and task-oriented person when it came to family, and he didn’t like how overbearing and protective she was of him. So, we were the only ones that were around and in need of help. I just felt bad sometimes because it felt like she was our nanny or something. Then again, every time this conversation came up where I would tell her that all of this was unnecessary and that I felt bad, she would always argue that she loved doing it and that it was no big deal. If it really were a problem, she would have ditched us months ago.

“Okay,” I gave in. “We’ll see you at home, then.” I stood to hug her.

“See you at home.”

When we parted, she leaned over to say goodbye to baby Emily quickly, then waved to me as she walked towards the elevator. I waved back shortly before pushing the stroller up the ramp towards the boardroom. Inside, I could see and hear everyone chatting and catching up with one another. Rossi was hogging Aaron. He was so happy to have his buddy back after all this time, but he was still trying to convince him to shave the beard. Over my dead body. I loved that beard, and after everything that man put me through today, I was going to get the chance to scratch my fingers through it as he fucked me. Come hell or high water, I was going to make that happen.

I pushed the stroller into the room, and everyone fell silent. This was the first time Hotch had seen her in… months, and this was the first time Prentiss was going to meet her. Everyone wanted to be witness to it, and no one wanted to disrupt the moment. So, when I spun the stroller around, everyone held their breaths. I tried to ignore them as I pulled the top of stroller back to reveal Emily.

“May I hold her?” Prentiss asked, looking up at me with the brightest smile I had ever seen from her before. I nodded. Prentiss reached into the stroller, buried her hands under Emily, and lifted her up. “Hi, there, baby girl…” Prentiss cooed. Emily kicked and fussed in Prentiss’s arms.

As I watched Prentiss rock Emily side to side in her arms, I felt someone’s arms snake around my waist and pull me backwards into a hug. I smiled and rested my head on Hotch’s shoulder. His beard scratched my cheek slightly as he pressed a gentle kiss against it. I giggled and nuzzled into his touch as much as I could while thinking about how I missed this feeling so bad every single second he was away from me. All those rules we had for so long before he left didn't matter anymore. Not when he had been away and all we wanted was to hold each other and love each other.

“She has your eyes, Hotch,” Prentiss said while Emily giggled. “Yes, you do,” Prentiss teased with the same kind of baby-talk voice everyone used around kids. “You are just too darn cute.”

“I missed you so much,” he whispered in my ear before kissing me.

“I’m still mad at you, Aaron,” I whispered only for him to hear. He loosened his grip on me somewhat. “And I don’t know when I’ll stop being mad.” He hid his face in the crook of my neck to hide his disappointment from everyone else. “But I know that I love you, and that, with time, I’ll learn to forgive and forget about this. Until then, I just need you to bear with me while I navigate rebuilding what trust I had given you, and asking you to give me answers, or asking that you give me some space—whatever it is, I just need you to understand. Can you do that?”

He nodded against me.

“We’re going to be okay,” I sighed, almost like I was trying to convince myself, too. “We’re going to be okay…”

-----

criminal minds family: @peggy1999 @gorgeousdarkangel @alex--awesome--22 @oceaneblu @brithedemonspawn @absolutemarveltrash @bshelley322 @rousethemouse @sunshinepower17 @weexinling @pettttyyyc​ @Braty-angel

[savagetrickster]

D.Gray Man | Kanda Yu (NSFW)

Okay so I kinda got carried away while writing for this request. Somehow it has escalated to R-rated stuff oops XD But honestly it was so fun writing this! I hope you wouldn’t mind me putting more than you had requested.  

So this is like my first NSFW for D.Gray man. I guess this fandom deserve a taste of NSFW as well since BNHA got the attention for that XD 

Apologies for errors, again.

Warning(s): 18+, implied breeding kink (duh, you even surprised?), unprotected sex, pregnancy

.

She thought about how lucky she was to be allocated a relatively simple mission that was only a day away from the branch and partnered with Kanda like he was the cherry on top. 

Missions together were rare. After Kanda was appointed as a new General, the opportunities to spend time with each other became miserably sparse.

He was a busy man then but now with his promotion that comes with bigger responsibilities, he was an even busier man. 

There was nothing but a big empty gap between them. What they have right now felt like a long-distance relationship. Most of the time his room was empty since being a General required his attention outside the branch. 

Even with time granted to them when he was home, kisses were curt and touches were brief. 

That was why being assigned to this mission with Kanda alone was a golden opportunity. Rare and precious to her. 

Even if it meant being attacked by Tyki Mikk on their way back. 

Well, that was what she thought until Kanda appeared before her, standing between a harsh slash down across the air that could have killed her if he wasn’t fast enough to intercept.

Kanda was fast enough to step between them but a second too late from deflecting the attack with Mugen.

.

Gloom stayed stubbornly in her eyes as she worked on bandaging the bloodied wound across Kanda’s chest. 

She had set herself straight to work on Kanda the moment she forced him to sit down on the bed in the inn they had been staying in, despite his protest.

Recurring memory of him taking the blow for her. The spray of his blood over her shook her. 

Throughout the rest of the battle against their enemy, she dealt her blows with rage upon witnessing that. 

She was worried, scared, and angry. 

So damn angry at the Noah. 

So damn angry at Kanda. 

So damn angry at herself.

“Yu, what you did just now wasn’t necessary.” Kanda raised his eyes to her. 

He had already given up trying to stop her futile effort bandaging him. His regenerative seal would heal him but she insisted on preventing infection before it did its work.  

“....please don’t do that again.” 

His gaze turned incredulous. “And let you die?” His fingers curled into the bed underneath.

Bitterness clenched around her heart, “Maybe.” 

A hiss sifted through her gritted teeth. “You’re not a shield. You’re someone precious to me and I’d rather die than see you do that to yourself-”

She didn’t know how or when; it was abrupt and too fast.

Her breath shuddered out of her as she suddenly found herself pinned down on the bed by an irritated, glaring glint blazing down from Kanda’s face.

Kanda stared back down at her, towering over her with a hot swirl of emotions swelling in his heart.

Before he felt anything for her, he was just a man drifting aimlessly in this long, suffering war as an exorcist. 

Missions after missions. 

Akumas after akumas.

Battles after battles against the Noahs.

That was what his life was all about. 

It was like a dark tunnel without the light at the end of it. There was no goal, there was no end.

Given how bleak his circumstances were, he had never spared a thought about his future. He was just a soldier or in a technical, more crude sense, a walking weapon.

That was what Exorcists were. Unwilling hosts for the Innocence - a curse that would follow them till death. Even for him, death was hard to come by.

But with (Name) in his life. 

He wasn’t so pessimistic about his circumstances anymore. The future didn’t seem so bleak anymore. He bore hopes for what the aftermath of this cruel war would bring about.

She was the light at the end of this dark tunnel. 

“If what I did keeps you safe,” Kanda felt his restraint over himself breaking. The words he had kept to himself for a long time wanted to spill.  “I’ll keep being that shield.” 

He had always wished she could be taken off the battlefield. 

Every time he was out there roaming the lands as a General he was made to be, his mind was always crazy worried about her. 

Knowing she was also out there risking her life.

He knew he was being a hypocrite here, but the fear and worry that gripped him every time his mind strayed to thoughts of her made him wistful.

The urge to use his higher authority to pull her out of her duty was tempting every single time. Just to keep her safe and as far away from the lurking dangers this war was embodied with.

The emotions bottled up in him fanned with every breath he took, his piercing eyes wavering on her. 

He wanted her.

It had something to do with pent-up need for her he had neglected due to his duties. The emotions in him were not so innocent either.

The last thread of restraint on himself broke the moment she extended a hand up to his face with a tender soft look in her eyes. 

His body wanted hers. 

There was nothing holding back anymore. 

He couldn’t, even with the rational voice screaming in his head. The carnal urge in him was smothering and drove through him powerfully.

A trembling breath left him as his lips met hers and pressed into her with an urgent need, immediately inciting a soft moan humming against his prying mouth. 

Their mingling breaths were hasty and shivering as the feverish kiss deepened with tilting heads and moans.

His hands were busy. Her hands were busy. 

Clothes were shredded off them and tossed carelessly in the heat of their passion. Between their heated actions, wild hands roamed. 

Her body grew more and more ready for his.

And his for hers.

His hands eventually found their way to her thighs and pushed apart with a firm grip on them as he settled himself between them.

Their panting lips parted as their dazed, wavering gaze met.

A fleeting whimper slipped through her lips as he pushed himself into her, completely buried in one powerful thrust.

His toned, chiseled chest stuttered with a shaky exhale as he pulled himself through the tightness gripping onto him. 

Towering over her with raw hunger in his gaze, the thrust driven back into her tore a broken cry from her. 

The blistering white flash of pleasure accompanied the jolting wide stretch inside her.

The bed creaked and protested under them, joining her cries and his growls as he pummeled into her fiercely. 

Strained grunts and growls rumbled in his chest as he leaned into her, his big hands sliding over her smaller ones and her legs responsively wrapping snugly around his waist. 

Under her digging fingers, his taut muscles rippled across his sweaty back, resonating with every thrust.

Everything else fell past them. Fell past her. Fell past him.

Now, they were only a man and woman making love. They were nothing more than that. 

Not Exorcists.

Not a General.

Not pitiful soldiers picked for a mad war.

Just them.

The wet squelches of their mixed fluids became loud enough to join the erotic reverberation filling the room as his thrusts begun to grow hectic. 

Their lips met again. Desperate and heated. 

Muffled moans and growls slipped into the dense air between kisses. 

Her heart felt like it was about to burst from her love for him. There was so much that the soft, breathy ‘I love you’ she murmured against his passionate lips was inevitable.

Kanda said nothing to that. But the pressing need of his lips against hers and the firm squeeze around her hands right after was a clear answer to her. 

The next stronger and primal thrusts he plunged into her also told her all he wanted to say. 

Enough to push her to the edge fast. 

She was close.

Enough to make her snatch her lips away from his with loud moans tumbling out of her.

She was…so close.

The muscles in her hands against his broad back tensed.

Her legs around him tightened curtly.

The next slam through her, his cock shoving inside with a rough prod did it for her.

A broken cry sitting between a sob and a whimper spiked between her moans as her eyes nearly rolled back at the shattering wave of her orgasm.

The shuddering grunt from Kanda joined her as he relished in the warm pour of her arousal over his aching self in her release.

Breathy grunts continued to fall from his lips as he pushed himself up, his hands slipping away from her to hook under her knees.

Now towering over her, Kanda pushed her thighs wider apart to accommodate his raging thrusts.

The curl of his toned biceps clenching and unclenching as his eyes fell onto where every thrust was announced by loud, lewd squelches, watching with rumbling growls as his cock pounded, plummeting in and out of her dripping, clutching heat. 

His piercing eyes looked even more piercing than ever as he raised them to her face, relentlessly hammering into her with fervor. 

His heated gaze raised to her, greedily taking in her as he worked intensely between her thighs. 

Gazing back at him through weak fluttering blinks, her red, flustered face panting up at him was an added fuel to the hungry, animalistic desire in him. 

To his vigorously rocking body.

He could feel himself filling up almost too much. The load inside his cock was a pressure too tight for him to hold in any longer. Together with the lustful urge to let go in the hazy heat, he drove his next thrust into her with a strong shove.

Her dragging moan joined his strangled grunt as a white flash of pleasure ripped through him. The back of his thighs clenched as he pushed his hip pressingly into her, nestling himself snugly into her as he released everything. 

Ropes and ropes of his seeds spurted into her in one hot burst, filling her rapidly as her tattering moan rode through her. 

His own hoarse one dragged through his throat as he snapped his hip curtly against her to every furious spurt of his load.

Accompanied by her fleeting whimpers and his own grunts, his slowing ruts sent one rough curt prod into her after another, till the very last drop of his semen was emptied into her womb.

A blissful stillness fell upon them the moment his movement inside her slowed and stopped.

Their intense stares held with their harsh pants. Until her eyes widened.

“...Oh no, Yu, you didn’t…” 

A soft gasp of horror escaped her. Despite the horror seeping in her widening eyes, she couldn't help trembling and panting with satisfaction at the warmth inside her. 

“Wha-What if I get...”

Her voice trailed off breathlessly with a gulp, his eyes followed her shaky hands as they moved to her lower abdomen, right above where they were still joined.

A knowing glint was in his gaze when he returned his gaze back to her. “When that happens, I will be here with you.”

“But I-”

“I’ll shoulder your duties for you. I’d rather you stay safe, even if it means getting you pregnant.”

Her breath hitched. 

To hear him say that word himself stirred a strange fluttering desire in her. It came out of nowhere but it filled her with wistful longing. 

Was it really...okay for people like them to enjoy something this mundane?

Was it okay to harbor hopes for something like this despite who she was? 

She wasn’t sure but the firm steel of promise in his eyes was enough for her.

That maybe...maybe it was okay.

[drowningbydegrees]

TITLE: Even in the Dark I Know You (Part 2 of 3) SHIP (if applicable): Geraskier PROMPT DAY: Five - Loneliness MEDIUM (Netflix, Books, Games, Hexer): Netflix WARNINGS: No archive warnings apply, but canon typical violence SUMMARY:

The thing is, he’s seen Geralt in a bad way. Even the witcher can’t always avoid injury in his line of work, and so Jaskier has plenty of practice patching him up. But this is new, and it makes something awful and anxious twist in Jaskier’s stomach.

A contract goes wrong leaving Geralt captive and stripped of most of his senses by the time Jaskier gets to him.

WORD COUNT: 3,219 (5,361 total) AUTHOR’S NOTES: Written for @geraltwhumpweek Part one covered Day four. This one covers the prompt for day five and part three  will be for day six. Ultimately, it’s hurt/comfort. The comfort part is a little bit this part, but mostly the next. 

Part 1 on Tumblr | AO3 Link

Geralt recognizes that Jaskier’s insistence on assisting isn’t new. He’ll concede that sometimes it’s even genuinely helpful. Only, he’s never been quite so conscious any of those times, and everything is cast in a different light - or lack thereof - being able to move of his own volition and still managing to be so utterly lost. Their exit is far too peaceful to be much of a secret which almost guarantees they have an audience that Geralt cannot see or shy away from. What shred of dignity remains bitterly wishes Jaskier had just left him instead of leading him out of this place like some wayward pet. 

There is no hazy light at the top of the stairs this time, only Jaskier's free hand coming to rest on his arm in a steadying gesture when their trajectory takes them upward. It isn’t necessary. He isn’t helpless. Geralt opens his mouth to say as much, but his body picks just then to betray him, the toe of his boot catching on a stair. He doesn’t fall, not really, but the forward lurch leaves Geralt chastened enough not to jerk out of Jaskier’s grip the way he wants to. 

He’s been pushing against this spell for days, but nothingness still sprawls in every direction. No matter how hard Geralt strains to hear, silence is all that greets him. What information he can glean with his remaining senses is woefully inadequate for anything more strenuous than existing. Under his shoes, he can feel when they cross the threshold from the marbled palace floors to the cobbled pathway outside. There’s a very slight give later when stone is traded for damp, muddy streets. 

They’re walking through town probably, but Geralt can't smell people or animals or even the aftermath of rain he knows must be lingering in the air from the way it settles on his skin. They might be surrounded by villagers or stumbling through the dead of night, and much to Geralt's horror, he realizes he wouldn't recognize the difference. Jaskier is probably prattling away about something the way he always does, and Geralt notes with a distant sort of sorrow that he misses even that.  

His only anchor is Jaskier's hand in his, their palms flush, the bard’s fingers slid neatly between his. It's the closest Geralt has to a lighthouse in the storm he's trapped in. How do you know it's even Jaskier? Some fretting thing in him whispers its doubt because he’s never had to recognize someone with so little to go on, but that, at least, is fleeting. Jaskier often rubs the pads of his thumb and forefinger together when he's anxious. It's the same cadence of Jaskier's thumb sliding back and forth over Geralt's knuckles. 

"Jaskier," he says, or thinks he does. He can feel the vibration of his vocal cords anyway, though he cannot hear himself speak. He must given the immediate response it earns him. The bard’s hand squeezes his, and there’s a hand patting his forearm through the fabric of his shirt in the way Jaskier tends to in the rare, awkward instances where he’s trying to be… comforting or something, and can’t find the words to do so.  

Geralt allows himself to be convinced because what else is there? Suspicion set aside, Geralt trades out pointless caution for a more ambient sort of misery.. 

---

It’s easy, even for Jaskier, to get stuck on the fact that Geralt isn’t very talkative and leave it at that. The truth is more complex, the bard comes to realize as they trudge back to the inn. Instinctively, he’s adapted to the ways Geralt does communicate, leaving room for a noncommittal ‘hmm’ here, glancing over in anticipation of a raised eyebrow there. All this time they’ve had a language of their own, written so deeply into the way they exist in each other’s space that even Jaskier doesn’t really notice until it’s lost. No longer is Geralt’s silence long suffering or irritated or maybe a little bit reluctantly fond. It’s just silence and Jaskier has no idea how to coax him out of it. 

Jaskier knows that ego or stubbornness would have Geralt licking his wounds in peace under any other circumstances. It’s only the fact that he has no way of orienting himself that keeps his hand in Jaskier’s. Somehow, even knowing, it still aches when they finally reach the room, and barely get the door closed before Geralt pulls out of his grip. It’s a safe place to start, and Jaskier is glad he left the witcher’s things where he’d found them earlier if it means Geralt finds his way any more easily. 

Though speaking up wouldn’t make any difference, Jaskier watches in silence as Geralt feels out the edges of the cramped sleeping room. The witcher’s fingers brush along the top of the dresser, the windowsill beside it. There’s a tub in the corner, full of clean water from a bath Geralt must have called for and never returned to indulge in. It’s long since gone frigid judging by the way Geralt’s nose scrunches when his hand skims the surface. 

The bed is like most beds in most inns in most towns they pass through. It’s passable, big enough for two if they don’t mind close quarters. The blankets are ragged and sort of threadbare, but at least they look clean. There is a brief moment where Jaskier wonders if he ought to break with their usual habit and get a room of his own, to spare Geralt in whatever way he can, but it’s an idea almost immediately discarded. Geralt circles the bed and returns to Jaskier, hands outstretched until they find the loose fabric of Jaskier’s chemise sleeve. He does not so much as twitch when Jaskier says his name, and there’s no ignoring in that moment that this wouldn’t just be leaving his friend to fumble through his routine without anyone to witness the challenge of it. He’d be leaving Geralt with no idea that he was just down the hall. 

“You’re going to grouch about this, I’m sure,” Jaskier offers up conversationally, though Geralt can’t possibly hear him to reply. When Geralt lets him go in favor of feeling his way back towards the tub, Jaskier flops down on the bed. “The things we do for love.”

---

At least igni doesn’t fail him. He’s heated up water a thousand times, and even without his senses to guide him, Geralt manages fine. The victory is tiny and largely insignificant, but desperately needed. It’s still a death sentence in his line of work, to be hampered like this, but that’s a concern he shelves long enough to shed his torn, dirty clothes and sink into the almost too hot water. Though it stings at wounds he’d nearly forgotten even having, drawing a quiet, pained hiss through his teeth, settling in the tub is otherwise heavenly. 

Not quietly enough, Geralt realizes with a start. If he’d at least had his sense of smell, he’d have expected Jaskier at his back, but instead, the gentle pressure of the bard’s hand around his shoulder is an unpleasant shock. He snarls and pulls away, unable to hear the placating explanation Jaskier is inevitably offering up. Whatever the words may be, they’re accompanied by a bottle being pressed into his hand that he recognizes the shape of, though he’s rarely touched it himself. It’s a question, an offer, drawing Geralt’s focus enough that the tension slowly bleeds back out. 

With a resigned sigh, Geralt allows a single, terse nod and settles against the side of the tub once more. They’ve done this often enough that he can believe Jaskier’s fingers burrowing into the knotted mess of his hair are driven by something other than pity. He doesn’t really know what does motivate the bard, mind you, but this isn’t such a new thing as to set Geralt on edge. 

And it’s pleasant, in a manner Geralt won’t allow himself to need, but takes refuge in just this once. It doesn’t matter that he’s been stripped of his vision when his eyes are closed to the world anyway. The lavender oil Jaskier is currently using to detangle his hair is familiar enough that Geralt doesn’t need to be able to smell it. It’s enough that he can recognize the slickness of it. The unwelcome silence he’s drowning in is more easily ignored with Jaskier rubbing soothingly at his scalp. If he misses anything, it’s the soft, aimless tunes Jaskier tends to hum in moments like these. He thinks he might hear an echo of it, but it’s only his imagination, wishful thinking as he lets Jaskier’s fingertips trace circles at his temples and card through his hair. Geralt drifts without really meaning to, coaxed ever so briefly into something other than an overwhelming sense of affliction.  

---

Foolishly, Jaskier lets himself believe things are looking up. They sleep the way they always do, side by side, and in the dark Jaskier can almost pretend it’s all normal. Only Geralt’s fingers splaying over Jaskier’s heart suggest anything is amiss, and Jaskier pretends not to notice. He turns away to smile, though Geralt can’t see it anyway. With any luck, things will be back to normal in the morning. 

Nothing is back to normal in the morning, not that Jaskier knows that. Geralt is still fast asleep when Jaskier wakes, and as far as the bard is concerned, that’s the best thing for everyone. Melitlele knows the man needs it after the state Jaskier found him in. 

There’s no real need to be quiet, but Jaskier holds his breath out of some ingrained habit. Jaskier risks a careful caress, sweeping Geralt’s hair from his face, and leaves the witcher to sleep. With any luck, he’ll come back with breakfast and Geralt will be back to his usual, taciturn self, and they’ll waste little time in putting this town far behind them. 

As it turns out, the letter the lord sent him back to the inn with has secured them a surprisingly obliging innkeeper. So, his efforts to acquire breakfast go well. They might be the only thing that goes well. 

The bed is empty when Jaskier returns, and Geralt is packing. Trying to, anyway. It’s less of a wreck than Jaskier would expect from anyone else in this predicament, but for someone as terrifyingly competent as Geralt, it still breaks his heart to see. Thinking only of the need to somehow comfort his friend, Jaskier sets the tray he’d been carrying aside and reaches out. He does realize his mistake, but only when Geralt startles and pushes him away like some sort of threat. Funny, he’d always thought it would be entertaining to finally get the drop on Geralt. It is, in fact, not entertaining at all. 

Geralt takes a wary step closer, and for a second Jaskier thinks he’s severely miscalculated. Only, there’s no violence in Geralt’s body language when he reaches out. Instead, his fingers carefully trace the outline of Jaskier’s face the way he’d done in the dungeon. Finally, finally, he relaxes, apparently satisfied with whatever he’s found. Jaskier swallows against the unanticipated intimacy and wonders if Geralt can feel the way his cheeks heat up a little, but if the witcher notices, he doesn’t say so. Not that he says much on a good day, and this is… not a good day.

It’ll pass Jaskier reminds himself as they muddle through breakfast and then everything that comes after to varying degrees of success. Geralt might be even less well equipped for idleness than Jaskier is, bristling like a particularly affronted house cat at what the bard can only assume are imagined provocations, because it’s not as if he’s said anything. It’ll pass. Jaskier believes that. He just very much wishes he knew when. 

---

They’re still at the inn. Geralt is aware of that much, for all the good it does him. The days have started to bleed together, and they’re still at this blasted inn, and Geralt doesn’t know why. Jaskier seems rather insistent on delaying the inevitable future where they have to contend with reality, and the worst part of it is that even if Geralt bothers to ask, he couldn’t possibly hear the bard’s explanation. 

Unless, maybe, he’s just waiting for Geralt to find his footing. It seems like the sort of foolishly compassionate thing Jaskier would do. That isn’t fair, Geralt knows, when the thought crosses his mind, but Jaskier’s endless optimism is more than he can handle being the recipient of just now. 

Said endlessly optimistic bard has curled in against Geralt in sleep. His breath comes in soft puffs against the witcher’s throat, his presence soothing as much as Geralt doesn’t want it to be. He’s trapped Geralt’s hand between his own and the broad expanse of his chest, a steady heartbeat thumping against the witcher’s palm, announcing his continued existence. It’s proof of life, and Geralt despises that when he pulls his hand out from under Jaskier’s, it feels like losing a desperately needed tether. Blind, deaf, or otherwise, Geralt cannot need this to get by.

So instead, he sets about finding his footing. It’s likely night if Jaskier’s presence in bed is anything to judge by, so hopefully that means he can try this without an audience. At the very least, Jaskier isn’t awake to try and stop him. Gritting his teeth in frustration at the time it takes, he searches out his clothes and boots. There’s no certainty he hasn’t woken Jaskier with his efforts, but there’s no telltale hand on his back when he sits to tug his boots on, no one grasping at his hand when he gets to his feet.  

One hand outstretched, Geralt finds his way. One, two, three steps to the door, where the handle is cool under his palm and turns with ease. He remembers enough of the inn to know there’s a window to the right and a hall to the left, so he braces against the wall, feeling out door frames and counting steps until he reaches the empty gap telling him he’s found the staircase. 

He stumbles on the first, but the rest are easier, evenly spaced and simple enough to descend. The bottom floor is heralded by the end of the stair railing, and much to Geralt’s relief, he catches himself before tipping forward too precariously. If only the rest could be so easy. 

Because he remembers the room, sort of. He remembers that there are tables. That there is a bar at the far end. That the exit is horribly far away from the staircase and that it’s all too much empty space to serve as a guide. None of that stops Geralt from trying, slowly picking his way across the floor and hoping to whatever deity might listen to faithless witchers that he’s at least alone in his fumbling. 

The trek to the door is embarrassingly arduous. He grits his teeth when his knee knocks against a bench. He sucks in a sharp breath when he’s tripped up by what he thinks might be a fallen tankard. The whole thing might as well be an eternity, and Geralt isn’t sure what the point is if the rest of his - probably very short life - is going to be like this. But he does reach the door. 

The cool breeze that meets him bolsters Geralt’s resolve. There was a point to all this. It’s probably cheating to try and do this in a place he mostly remembers, but he has to start somewhere, and checking on Roach seems as worthwhile a place to start as any. There won’t be any walls to guide him, but Geralt thinks he knows the way more or less, and if he counts the steps, maybe not every time will have to be such a damned event. 

Geralt does not, more or less, know the way. He finds his footing, picks out a path clear enough that walking feels almost normal, in a direction that should end with the doors to a stable. It doesn’t. It doesn’t end with doors to anything, and by the time Geralt recognizes the error, there’s soft grass squelching under his boots. The inn was near the edge of town. Geralt remembers that much at least. So it follows that he’s simply gone the wrong direction. 

“Fuck,” Geralt mutters under his breath, and again more emphatically as the breadth of his trouble sinks in. He’d turned around, reaching a few steps to one side in search for a stable that clearly doesn’t exist, and there’s no telling what direction he’s even facing now. It should be a simple thing to turn around and go back, but now there’s no telling if a given step will take him back to civilization or risk him being hopelessly lost.

And then there’s the rain. He would have smelled it. He would have heard the distant rumble of thunder that must come with a downpour like this. He would have seen the gathering shadows overhead that have all opted to pour their sorrows out on him. If the mage had left him with anything at all, he could have at least avoided this. 

But the only thing she left him with was the chill of a harsh downpour that saturates his clothes, and the knowledge that a deluge like this will keep villagers indoors and away from wherever he’s accidentally wandered off to. Aimlessly, he reaches out and while the tree he eventually finds his way to is hardly a refuge, it’s the best he’s likely to get. 

Exhausted in a way that has nothing to do with lack of sleep, Geralt sits at the base of the tree. The ground has already gone muddy under the grass, but he can’t bring himself to care. Mud is the least of his problems when he’s fallen so far as to have to wait for help to walk back to a rented room at an inn he doesn’t even know how Jaskier is paying for where he will continue to lose track of time… and everything else. 

Geralt has been captured, chained up, jailed, but he’s never been trapped like this, alone in his own head. He cannot listen for approaching footsteps or strain to hear a familiar melody. He cannot scent the air for the presence of some other life nearby. Even the fuzzy outlines he’d briefly grasped onto the first time the mage did this have failed him now. He thinks back to Jaskier’s hand leading him through town, to the bard’s fingers threading through his hair, to the steady heartbeat he’s memorized the shape of under his palm. Even these lifelines are no more than individual points of contact, always one gesture away from being lost to him entirely. 

Geralt thinks he understands loneliness. He knows what it is to be alone, and usually professes to prefer it, even if he lets Jaskier chase after him. But here, in the confines of his own head, Geralt learns what it is to be well and truly isolated, knowing the only possible respite is someone else’s mercy offering a momentary connection. Laid this low, Geralt can only sit with his head bowed beneath the pouring rain.

[redrikki]

Was Darth Vader inevitable? I know ppl like to believe that some villains just happen, no matter what. But do you think Vader was just the result of dozens upon dozens of unfortunate events?

I’m a Jew and we don’t believe that there are evil people: there are people who make evil choices. And the thing about evil choices? You can always make different ones the next time around. 

Vader as a character was inevitable because he’s necessary for the story George Lucas is trying to tell. Vader in-universe, on the other hand, wasn’t. You know how I can tell? Confronted with an opportunity to make better choices and someone who provides him with validation and support, he makes that better choice. 

The Good Place has this excellent moment where Michael the demon makes this impassioned speech about how people need outside support and validation to be their best selves and can we really blame people without either who behave badly? That’s the thing about Anakin’s transformation into Vader. It was the culmination of a series of really shitty decisions on his part and their consequences, but many of those decisions were the result of him not receiving the support he needed to make better ones. 

As people, we’re all responsible for the consequences of our actions, but we act within the constrains of our circumstances. Sometimes we have limited options. Sometimes we have limited tools. Sometimes we’re completely unaware that certain tools or options even exist. 

Anakin made some epically shit choices under intense pressure which had extremely negative impacts on the people around him and then continued to make shit decision because he was raised to believe that there was no way back. None of it was inevitable. If he’d received needed support at various junctures, those decisions might not have happened. If Obi-Wan had chosen to listen and take Anakin’s dreams about his mom seriously, she might not have died, Anakin might not have slaughtered the Tuskens, and he might have felt more comfortable confiding in Obi-Wan about his dreams regarding Padmé. If Yoda had asked Anakin what he needed to help ease his fears regarding his dreams instead of just lecturing him about why he was wrong to be afraid, maybe he wouldn’t have felt the need to go to Palpatine for a solution. Anakin is responsible for Anakin’s choices, but the people around him could have given him better options and none of it was inevitable.