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fox-bee926 · 2 years ago

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3 times you and Anthony Lockwood caught each other sleeping, and the 1 time both of you said “screw it.”

Anthony Lockwood x fem!reader

PART 4 (Finale)

Hi y’all! So, I finally finished the last chapter of “Screw it,” as I am now shortening it to. I’m not sure if I’m going to change the title officially or just the title in the masterlist, but that can be figured out at a proper time of day. I wanted to get this out to you guys as soon as I saw it fit to post. Thank you to everyone who liked, commented, and reblogged the parts of this fic. You have no idea how much it all means to me, so thank you <3

Without further ado, I present to you: the fluff.

(Also, please cut me some slack on the House scene. Im not the best at writing fight scenes but im going to try and improve. :) )

TW: murder, abuse, momentary talk of abortion, more cursing than in previous parts, lack of communication, significant fluff.

Word Count: 3.5 K Taglist: @galactidiot

part one part two part three part four

“Guys, guys, guys, I figured it out!” The downstairs members of Lockwood and Co. were not sure you would survive going down the stairs at the speed you went. You half ran into the table, out of breath from zooming two flights of stairs.

Lucy held out her hands to steady you as you caught your breath. “Whatever you’ve figured out can’t be more important than not breaking your neck on the stairs, yeah?” You both gave out a laugh at that. George and Lockwood looked at you two from their places at the sink.

“Sorry about that, but this couldn’t wait,” Lockwood silently set down a cup of tea in front of you. “Abigail’s mother was pregnant when she killed her husband. That’s the reason she made the decision to kill him. She had her youngest child almost exactly 8 months after his death. Her doctor ordered a pregnancy test days before she killed her husband.” You sipped your tea and sent a look of thanks to Lockwood. He only turned and returned to George’s side.

George’s face scrunched together as he thought. “Even if you’re right, how does that help us figure out what the source is?” Your smile went wide as you held up a finger then ran off to the living room.

“This,” you came back and set down her financial records on the table. “She made a significantly larger purchase than usual only days before the murder. I think they were baby things. Like diapers, toys, a crib, the whole lot.” Everyone, even Lockwood, looked at you skeptically. But then, George grinned.

“You think the source is something she bought for the baby.”

“It would make sense! If she killed her husband to get a better life for her future family, what better place to decide than looking at something that represents that future?” You looked down when they still looked at you like you were crazy. “I know it’s a long shot, but what else do we have?”

Lockwood pressed off from the counter and crossed his arms. “We can do a full sweep of the house again, check everything with a new perspective. Lucy, you said you couldn’t hear much, maybe it’s because we weren’t listening for the right sounds.” He patted George on the back, and grinned at Lucy. “We can go tonight. Better to get this over and done with, and move on.”

His demeanor seemed cold in some ways, despite the warmth he displayed for George and Lucy. Your intuition told you that something was bothering him, and you had a suspicion what it was. As he left the kitchen, you tried to catch him. Your hand brushed his forearm but he only maneuvered farther out of your reach. The feelings that were expressed last night had had quite the effect on both of you, apparently one more than the other.

____

“Alright everyone, stay sharp. We don’t want a repeat of last time.” Lockwood opened the doors of the house and you all went straight inside. It was decided that you and Lockwood would take one half of the house, Lucy and George the other. Thanks to Flo Bones, both teams finally had radios. Although you weren’t sure how much help they would be.

They had found out the husband had held a lot of pent up rage when Lockwood and Lucy had initially investigated the house. Lockwood became temporarily ghost-locked, and Lucy ended up getting literally thrown out of the house when she saved him. It was not an experience anyone wanted to repeat to say the least.

You always hated the sounds of a haunted house. Sometimes you were thankful for the sound of all the salt bombs and magnesium flares in your duffel bag. Though you weren’t so thankful when the ghosts found you ten times faster because of it.

You and Lockwood wandered the halls of the house, checking each room. Your rapier was uncomfortably strapped onto your right side, with your tool bag hanging from your arm. While you couldn’t wield your rapier as well as you used to, you compensated for having a Listening talent that was on par with Lockwood's’ Sight.

Your footsteps echoed softly throughout the house. “Are we going to talk about this morning? Or last night?” Your voice was only just above a whisper when you turned to Lockwood. The only sounds you two could hear were the doors creaking open and the wind rushing through some of the open windows. You hated it. It was like the ghost was trying to bide its time. You thought of no better time than the present to have some mind altering conversations.

Lockwood returned to the hallway as you continued your path through the house. “No. We are not. Last night shouldn’t have happened. I was an utter fool, and-”

“Stop.”

“No, it has to be said, I shouldn’t have made things complicated-”

“Are you going to break my heart or actually fucking listen to me and stop talking?” Lockwood tensed up at that. He hadn’t seen it as breaking your heart, merely saving himself the heartache of rejection. But he reconsidered his decision when he saw the anger on your face, and the tears welling up in your eyes.

You turned back around to face the next three doors in the hallway. Energy pulsed around you and suddenly there was no more creaking or rushing, there was just nothing.

“Someone’s crying. It’s coming from the room at the end of the hall.” You and Lockwood move slowly towards the door. Both of you were getting increasingly worried that there was no activity from the ghost, nor radio chatter from Lucy and George.

You entered the room. There was no furniture in the room, but it had an air of warmth. An air of comfort. The only sound Lockwood could hear was the movement of the curtains. But you heard differently.

“It’s Abigail. She’s crying. She’s just ran out of the room. Her mom yelled at her, but she didn’t mean it. This was going to be the nursery. All the baby items are in here. She feels overjoyed, but scared when she looks at them.” You walk slowly into the room as Lockwood listens and keeps watch.

He knew how Listeners could get when a haunting was this powerful. Despite all the words he said to you, he is worried. You had invested yourself so deep in this case. Lockwood was worried that you wouldn’t like what you heard in this room. Be careful, darling. I don’t think my heart could take it.

You spoke softly, but the distance in your voice told him you were not fully present. “Now she’s crying. For a moment she considers ending it. She heard of home remedies for this particular ailment from her neighbor. But the rattle. The rattle was rolling towards her. The rational part of her mind said it was the wind, but it could be more. It was her child calling to her.” You sink down in the middle of the room, facing said window. You could feel the warmth of the sun on her face, despite it being the dead of night for you. “She knew what she had to do. She wouldn’t let another one of her children witness their fathers violence.”

As Lockwood sees you kneel on the floor, he starts to see the faint start of a death glow. “Darling, we have to hurry. We know what the source is now, we just need to know where to find it. I know you can do this, but hurry.” He had never had much worry for his own life in these situations, but for you he was terrified.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the Shade of a small child crawl towards you. You made no movement, so he dove to swipe at it with his rapier. As soon as he moved from the doorframe, the door slammed shut. This was the ghost’s plan all along.

He tries to go for the radio attached to his belt, but the ghost starts to fly towards you. Lockwood slashes at it but you look none the wiser. You both had been so absorbed in the situation that you had dropped the toolkit outside of the room. He realized all the two of you had were the bombs on your belt and your rapiers.

“Okay, come on now, snap out of it!” Lockwood threw a bomb at the ghost and the sound had you take in a gasp, coming back to the present. As soon as you processed the situation, you stood up and drew your rapier.

“Perfect timing! Where’s the source?” Lockwood yelled as he heard banging on the opposite side of the nursery door from Lucy and George. This ghost was powerful, and he doubted they could get in without having secured the source first.

“Draw it away from the closet, it’s under the floorboards so it might take some time.”

“Do it, I’ll handle the ghost.”

You gave a quick nod and went to work. You pried the door to the closet open and started pulling on the floorboards. The ghost immediately noticed and lunged for you once again. You turned away from your efforts and drew your rapier, but you were too slow. The ghost pushed you back against the wall with its force. Fortunately, the impact had done a number on the floorboards and revealed the source. You just had to reach it.

But you were still trying to bring the air back to your lungs.

All you could see was the ghost hovering above you. As you tried to cough, you realized the ghost wasn’t just hovering over you. It had ghost-locked you. You could see Lockwood out of the cover of your eye trying to open the door to let Lucy and George through. Until he turned around and saw the ghost above you. He knew your fear stricken face would be etched into his mind, his nightmares, forever. He did the one thing he knew best to do.

“Hey!” He threw a salt bomb at the ghost and waved his rapier mockingly. “No wonder your wife killed you if you’re hovering over other girls, eh?”

In hindsight, this was probably not one of his best plans, seeing as though taunting an angry Type Two was the only step of the plan he had thought out.

In a blink, everything happened so fast. The ghost screamed in a rage and went towards Lockwood. It took all your will not to run for him and defend him from the ghost, but you knew you had a more important job. You reached into your pocket to grab a small silver netting you had bought just for times like these. Before you could cover the rattle, there were two loud crashes. The first was Lucy kicking in the door. The second was Lockwood being thrown out the window.

As soon as you dropped the netting on the rattle, the room became silent.

“We missed all the fun, didn’t we?” Lucy laughs, mostly out of surprise that you two were alive. But you were more focused on the groaning that came from outside. George advanced towards the secured source as you quickly got up and ran to Lockwood.

You reached out for his arm. His jacket and shirt were ruined, large cuts made by the glass were slowly oozing blood. Lockwood let out a quick “ow” when you squeezed his wrists far too hard. He realized you had the same look on your face as when you thought you were going to die.

He reached up and lifted your face from his arm. “Look, I’m fine. Just a couple of scratches.” Once you had processed his words fully, that fearful face was replaced by one of very harsh anger.

“I got the source properly contained. We should all get one of those pocket nets, that was quite handy.” George smiled, but Lucy grimaced when you stomped out of the room. Lockwood sighed and decided to just go around the house as he was already outside.

“Those two don’t get it, do they?”

“Oh, I think they will soon.” Lucy walked over to George and placed the source in his bag. On the ground was a small piece of paper, aged by the water and mold that seeped into the old floorboards.

“To whom it may concern: I’m not sorry.”

___

Everyone sighed as they entered Portland Row. It was the only place they ever felt truly safe, at least from ghosts. Feelings on the other hand, no one was safe from. You put away the rapier at the door, and promptly went upstairs to your room. You hadn’t said a word to anyone on the cab ride back. Lucy sent a pointed look to Lockwood.

“You. Go talk to her.”

“I didn’t do anything wrong, why should I talk to her?”

Lucy points an accusatory finger at his face. “I can see all over your face that even you don’t believe what you said was true. Now, off you go or you don’t get any of the biscuits George bought from the store.” She sends him a devious smile as she turns and walks to the kitchen.

Lockwood paced the hallway, considering his options.

Upstairs, you have never wanted to punch him more than you do right now.

___

You reach your hand under your bed and pull out your first aid kit. “Reckless, idiotic, suicidal...” You pause in your mumbling to open the kit and make sure everything has been newly stocked. “...irrefutably obnoxious, fucking insane-”

“I probably deserve all that.”

You gasped. Anthony leaned on the door frame, pointedly on the uninjured shoulder. “Lockwood! What are you doing here?” After you processed the initial surprise, it was almost as if you had to remember you were mad at him. “Shouldn’t you be out and about, being a martyr for every hopeless girl on the street?” Venom laced your voice, but he knew it was well deserved. “Plus, you said you had ‘made things complicated,’ so I’m making them uncomplicated.”

“Darling, I’m sorry.”

“No, no! You do not get to come in here with your smile, and your cut up arm, and your beautiful, pleading eyes, and tell me you’re sorry. Do you know how hard it was for me to watch you get thrown out of a window for the umpteenth time? Do you know how hard it is to sit there and watch you risk your life for mine?” The tears spilled over onto your cheeks. You let out a sob and bring your hand to cover your mouth, but quickly recover.

Anthony had half a mind to wipe them from your face and stare into your eyes for the rest of his life. But he thinks that would be a bit too much to say right now.

You grab a tissue from your desk and wipe your eyes. You pointed to the bed vehemently. “Now, Anthony John Lockwood, you are going to sit right here and shut the hell up while I fix your arm, is that understood?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Your jaw clenches at how effortlessly charming he seemed, even when both of you look like you’re about to start sobbing.

“Good.” You work in silence as he settles on the bed, arranging the tools in the first aid kit so they’re easily accessible. “Take off your shirt. And if you have any mind about making a joke, be aware I have multiple things I can stab you with directly in arm's reach.”

His eyes move to yours as you both try to stifle a laugh. No matter what state either of you are in, you can appreciate a good dirty joke. You put on the latex gloves as Anthony unbuttons his shirt. He winces as he takes his cut arm out of the sleeve. “Be careful.” You mumble as you put ointment on the gauze in advance.

The rest of the process is done in silence, other than a few sounds of discomfort from Anthony. As you finished taping the gauze down on his arm, he slowly reached up to hold your hand. It wasn’t like when he was dragging you on the streets of Portland Row to Arifs, or pulling you from danger. This was a boy, trying desperately to find words that neither of you knew how to say.

“When I called you my world, Anthony, I meant it. I would be nothing without you-”

“That’s never true, darling-”

“Would you let me finish for once? I amend, then: My heart would feel nothing without you. I was a girl trying to escape her home town for something new, and there you came. I didn’t know I could even feel these things before you,” You grasped his hand, gently rubbing your thumb against the back of his salt covered hand.

Tears welled up in your eyes, but this time you didn’t bother to wipe them. “I love you, Anthony Lockwood. No matter how much you push me away, no matter how many times you get thrown through a window for me, I love you. Before you leave this room, I need to know if you love me too.” You squeezed his hand, and then went to pack up the first aid kit. It was as if you hadn’t confessed your love to your employer, but more importantly, your friend.

It was silent as you walked over to your desk. You looked back, and Anthony just sat there. There was no megawatt smile, no fidgeting of the hands. Just you and Anthony, plain as could be.

It was too much.

In an instant, you left the room. You heard the echoes of Anthony calling for you down the stairs, but you had to get out from the grasp of the stifling air in your room. You had taken the silence to be a refusal, but Anthony meant for it to be a scapegoat. He was waiting, almost begging for you to say it was all a joke. A prank to get back at him for being so careless. He couldn’t let himself imagine what you said to be true.

You went to the only room in the house that you could think was safe, the library. You closed the door softly as to not wake Lucy and George with your modest screams of frustration. You had bared your heart to him and he looked at you like you were a wall of drying paint.

“Darling please, talk to me.” Anthony opened and closed the door behind him. You paced the short width of the library, not looking at him.

He looked down in shame. His shirt was already buttoned back up, thank god, but it was haphazardly tucked. He fidgeted with the ring on his hand, not sure what to say. Not sure how to convey years of pining, yearning, love, into something so insignificant as words.

He whispered, cruelly, “How could you ever allow yourself to fall in love with someone like me?”

You turn your face towards him. Anthony thought it funny that it looked as if you had glitter on your face from the way the light hit your tears. He ought to compare it to the stars in the sky, but maybe at a later date.

You turn your entire body towards him. He wasn’t wearing his grand facade of confidence or wit. He looked like a man who would get on his knees to beg your forgiveness. You have never wanted to see him like this, nor want to again.

“How could I not, Anthony?”

He crossed the room in a mere four steps. “Screw it,” and he kissed you.

His hands made their way to your waist, pulling you against him. He put every single ounce of love he had since the moment he met you into that kiss. Your fingers reached into his hair, pleading for him not to let go.

Regrettably, you pulled away to catch your breath. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?” You laugh as Anthony smiles that lovely smile.

“No, not in the slightest.” He said softly as he cupped your cheek. Your laugh sounded throughout the room, and Anthony started laughing too. The hilarity of it all didn’t escape them, of course. Two teenagers, having grown up in a world where they were faced with death every day, were most stressed by how to confess their love to each other.

There would be ghosts, nasty Type Two’s. There would be murderous people who were hell bent on destroying Lockwood and Co.. But for now, Anthony was content to think that the only sounds that existed were you two laughing. The only sight was your eyes crinkling with joy, and tears that were finally not of distress.

That night, you both learned that your love couldn’t easily be put into words, and that was okay.

#anthony lockwood #anthony lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood x fem!reader #lockwood and co #lockwood & co #lockwood #xreader #fem!reader #fluff #so much fluff #fics by foxbee #fic #fanfic #fanfiction

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ogravensimp · 3 years ago

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She is a Constantine

The one day this shitty hotel decided to have an out of order elevator', Zed cursed as she looked up to only see a beige trenchcoat coat fluttering like a flag as it raced up the far too many flights this overpriced building had installed.

"John! Aren't you just being paranoid?" Zed shouted after the man in front of her as she attempted to keep up with him, as well, also trying to get answers out of him—which is a hard enough task as it is when she actually has his attention.

They were supposed to focus on purging some low-level demons set loose when a couple of civilians somehow managed to dig up the original copy of the highly dangerous, "Grimorium Verum". Well, they managed to get the book, but they also attracted the attention of John's good ol' friend, Papa Midnite; who has been giving them quite a hard time but John managed to knock him out.

Zed believed that they did quite well against him but somehow he said something before he fell that set John running without a word back to the hotel room they rented.

"John!", she called out once again as they finally reached the floor they were staying on, but she only saw the tail of his trenchcoat as he took a sharp turn around the corner, "seriously, you are being very-"

She cut herself off when she also reached the room they were staying in, only to find the door thrown off the hinges,"-...paranoid."

John was already inside, his back to her as he worryingly looked around at the ransacked room that had been perfectly fine when they left. Zed knew it wasn't the mess that had him anxious, it was the lack of a certain half-demon whom they had left watching some pony cartoon on the now overturned couch. The show was even still playing, but not even a tuft of the girl's purplish hair to be found.

"I should have known he'd just trace the magic back here, how could I just live her alone with the one thing Papa Midnite will kill for!" While it seemed John was talking to her, Zed knew he was actually berating himself, "Fuck, if he touched even a hair on her head I swear-"

"John," Zed softly approached him, wanting to calm the magician before he jumps so far to a conclusion that she or common sense won't be able to reach him anymore, "Papa hates your guts, yes but you and I know he'll never kill a child."

"What about his goons? Midnite distracted us and sent them here and I'm sure his goons would do anything not to fail him. ", John retorted as he began to scratch his hair with enough force it's as if he actually wanted to rip it out.

"She might still be here."

John finally turned to face her and Zed could now fully see the panic on his face. To a normal person, John looked irritated at most but Zed has been around him long enough to start to see the cracks in his poker face of sarcasm, "Look around Zed! If she was here, I'd fucking sense her!"

Zed felt a bit offended at his outburst, she didn't even know John had left the grimoire here! She thought the whole reason Papa was hexing them to next week was to get it off John but this seemed to be another of Constantine's genius plans gone wrong.

Putting her hands on her hips, she stood her ground, "And who's fault is that John? How could you just leave one of the most sacred dark-magic books with a child who thinks a show on the magic of friendship is the pique of entertainment?!"

John was never one to admit he was too blame chose to fight back, "I didn't know! I'm not fucking omnipresent! That's why I put up the bloody wards!"

"And look what good those did," Zed huffed as she folded her hands, "now they have the grimoire and have done god knows what with Raven."

"um..."

"Think I don't know that Zed because newsflash, I do!"

"Well, how do you plan to fix it!"

"...actually..."

John moved towards what was left of his books on the table and picked up a piece of chalk, "I don't know, fuck, I can try to trace her magic. She has a naturally high amount of it, it'll be easy to find."

Zed followed after him, her anger now replaced with worry, "Maybe if I'm near something of her's I can get a vision, where's that teddy of her's that she's always with? The one that Nun made?"

A small pair of hands held out the purple bear in question, "here you go Zed."

Zed accepted it gratefully, "Thank you, Raven."

And then there was silence in the room.

Zed looked at the doll in her hand and then at the small face looking up at her and then back at the doll, then back at the face and this charade continued for a while till she shouted, "Raven!", causing the little girl in question to giggle.

This sound alerted John who looked up from the symbols he had already begun drawing on the floor. Before Zed could even move, John had rushed past her in a beige coloured blur and had the half-demon up in his arms in a well-deserved hugged.

"Oh my sweet blackbird, I'm so glad your ok,", John yelled while he spun Raven around and pressed warm kisses to her small cheek causing more giggles to escape Raven's throat.

This was an odd scene for Zed who was quite used to the silent little girl who hexes old ladies that try to pinch her cheek or pat her head.

In fact, the first time Raven allowed physical contact with Zed was when she held her hand in a crowded street one time, and while Zed knew it was only so the tiny demon wouldn't get lost in the much taller crowd, she still felt like some chosen saviour.

So Zed just really couldn't help the tinge of jealousy she felt knowing that John is an exception to this 'no-touch' rule whenever he pleases while she can only relish in the crumbs.

Raven must have sensed her feelings cause she turned to her and smiled— an expression Zed felt fit her angelic features more than the usual deadpan expression.

Giving a soft smile back herself, she placed a hand on the girl's soft face(which fortunately went unhexed), in a tender gesture and asked, "Rae you gave us a heart attack, where were you?"

The dark-haired girl just tilted her in confusion before replying with a simple, "the closet." and pointed in the direction of said object.

Both Zed and John looked at the small cabinet that she was implying and couldn't help but be entertained as it was such a childish yet genius choice of hiding.

But the entertainment didn't last long as they realized something would have had to cause her to go into hiding.

Setting her down on the table, John and Zed immediately began to check her pallid skin for any injuries and to their relief, there was nothing major. The only damage to her delicate skin was a bruise on her knee but that was enough for John to demand a full breakdown of what exactly happened so he can know how many bones of Midnite he needs to break.

After 10 minutes, Zed and John had the full story of what happened while Raven nibbled on a chocolate bar she rightfully earned.

"So let me get this straight, you sensed about four guys approaching here and before they arrive, you grabbed Mr Teddy here, ran into the cabinet and stayed there till you heard us arguing, and you only bruised your knee cause you bumped yourself when crawling in?" John confirmed.

"Yep."

"You should've grabbed a phone and called us or something,", Zed muttered as she rubbed a chocolate stain off the girl's chubby cheek, "what if they saw you? Next time teleport to me and John immediately, got it."

Looking down, Raven softly replied, "Yes Zed."

"Oi, lay off her," John joked as he placed a big hand on her head, lightly messing up her dark-purple locks much to Zed's annoyance cause she is the one that combs her hair out every morning but before she can complain, John sighs, "Shit, Midnite still has the Grimoire, just great."

Zed was going to sigh with him when Raven let out a sheepish, "well...", reaching for the toy that Zed had been holding onto, she wrapped her hands around it and after some muttering, a ray of purple surrounded its form and it transformed into the exact tome that John and Zed had worked so hard to find and keep safe, "...I had been practising glamour spells before the guys arrived and thought this would be a great time to test it and I guess it worked."

Her wide violet eyes looked up at them as if looking for praise and they really did want to give it to her but they were just so shocked by her to speak.

John was the first to react and a wide grin broke out on his face, "You are a Constantine!"

He relaunched his attack of hugs and kisses to Raven's temple, this time Raven acted annoyed and tried to push him away but her blooming blush and the sound of a few lamps exploding betrayed her and showed her real emotions.

Zed still only looked at the book in her hand, remembering how it had felt and weighed the exact same you'd expect a knit teddy bear too. She just couldn't wrap her head around how such a young girl was already so talented with magic that it would put some adults to shame but before she could stay on the topic the sounds of Raven's voice brought her back.

"Ew, let go of me!" She whined as she used her small hand to try and push John's face away but that would not deter him and instead, he laid a lick to her palm which only infuriated her more as the window near them cracked, "GROSS!"

Zed couldn't help the laugh that escaped her. Those two were really something. Dropping the book on the table, she went to go save her little Raven away by pulling her away before she ends up blasting John through a room— so maybe she's actually saving John.

As for her previous question, the answer was simple:

She's a Constantine.

____________________________________

"Now, what's the meaning of this?" Papa Midnite's voice was deep and loud to achieve its purpose in causing shivers to run down his lackey's spine as he held up a purple, knitted bear with different sized buttons for eyes.

One of them managed to gain some confidence and he dropped to the floor at Midnite's feet to plead for himself and his brethren, "Papa, I swear, it was definitely the book you asked for, we don't know what happened!"

Papa growled, "I know that, I'm wondering how all you managed to get tricked. Not even by Constantine himself but by a child!"

"But there was no kid there we checked everywhere, honest Papa!"

Midnite just sighed as he fell back onto his seta, rubbing the bridge between his nose as he contemplated whether to get better men or if he simply was the only one capable of doing things right around here.

As he grumbled, the purple toy in his hands caught his eyes.

He thought it was just the supernatural world being bored when he heard that the John Constantine adopted a little girl but this doll proved the rumours through.

If this child was also as terrifying as the rumours say, it was best Papa met her soon before another card to Constatine's deck is added in which he cannot compete with.

part 2 soon? probably but only cause I wanna right midnite & raven interaction

#raven fanfiction #raven dc #raven teen titans #teen titans #john constantine #zed martin #papa midnite #dad!constantine #john x zed #constantine & raven #hellblazer #damirae

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equestrianwritingsstuff · 3 years ago

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Fugitives

Somehow inspired by @chicken0mcnugget and her sister and my sister's more than lovely camping adventure. Somehow, I don't know how. Maybe part 2 if I write it (no promises) will match up to my wild imagination's interpretation of a camping trip. Perhaps, it is a possibility.

Warnings: collapse, passing out, field medicine, blood, gunshot wounds, screaming, gagging roughly for own good, intensive description of possibly gorey wound care, betrayal, some language, going into shock, IV and needles.

"Stop," Villain wheezed, sinking to his shaking knees. "I-i need-" cough, "I need help."

Hero stopped running and looked over her shoulder to see Villain half-collapsed on the ground, holding his abdomen.

"We both need help, Villain. Now get up and run. They'll be here soon," Hero trotted back to her nemesis.

"Mmnh," Villain gurgled, his face an eerie shade of pale yellow. He swayed from his kneeling position, keeling sideways, eyes rolling back-

"Oh my gosh," Hero caught Villain as he fell limp into her arms.

"Wake up!" Hero patted Villain's burning cheek repeatedly. "Damn it Villain," she groaned when he didn't wake.

Hero felt at loss. They were running away from authorities in the middle of the woods, exhausted and sore, with no shelter, water, and food in sight.

And now she had an unconscious villain to deal with.

Hero removed the hands placed so precariously on his stomach to reveal a spot of bloodstained fabric. Hero silently cursed to herself and rolled up his shirt.

The sight made her stomach drop. He had not one, but two bullet wounds in his stomach. One was quite deep and bleeding profoundly whereas the other still had the champagne bullet casing, blocking the precious crimson plasma's flow.

He was shot, Hero stressed to herself, trying to figure out what to do. She vaguely remebered a series of gunshots, but Villain promised that he was okay.

And now...

Hero stopped her thoughts suddenly and stood up, cradling Villain tenderly. He was bigger, without a doubt, but between her fitness and touch of super strength, she succeeded.

"I got you," she whispered to the sleeping villain before taking off at a lopsided jog.

"Villain what are you doing here?" Hero asked, approaching the tall, leather-cladden figure.

"Saving you," Villain replied, running to close the distance and grabbing Hero's arm. "Your team, they set you up. We need to go!"

"What are you talking about?" Hero chuckled, easily shaking Villain's hand off.

"They are-"

A click.

A scuffle of feet.

"Well this, my friends, is a win-win," an all too familiar chortle sounded.

Villain spun around, stepping back to stand parallel to Hero's shoulder. His breaths were hitched, proof of his nervous anticipation.

Hero, on the other hand, was mystified by the scene. Her hands trembled as beads of sweat started to form around her amber hair line. Realization flooded into every vein and all she wanted to do was sink to the ground and give up.

They betrayed her.

Her team betrayed her.

Leader stepped into the single light spot in the warehouse. Even though it was mid-day, the shadows made it look like it was night.

"We have our darling Hero here, and her nemesis. Arrest them," Leader ordered.

Villain lunged at Leader, going for his neck. More scuffles of feet determined that there were more heroes to fight off, but injuring, or killing, Leader would slow them down.

Villain and Leader fell to the ground with a grunt, punching, and hitting, and lashing until Villain was able to smack the golden boy's head against the concrete floor.

Villain discarded his prey and hurried to assist Hero in taking down two muscular, lithe heroes. They were twins, evident in their matching black ponytails.

"You know the pay for your head," one sneered, licking her bloodied lip. "Is more than what I had to pay for my house."

"Hmm," the other laughed. "Not only that, but you are on every 'wanted' billboard in the city."

Hero said nothing, just kept striking punch after punch- most of the time missing.

Then, as if on impulse, Villain grabbed Hero's shoulder and led her to a window. "Hang onto me," He said and closed his eyes.

Then there was a shot... then two... a brief hiss and then they were in the forest...

"Villain are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. I promise."

Hero stumbled across an abandoned cabin. A moldy door guarded the entrance and windows were bashed in, but it supplied the dire need for shelter.

Inside, cupboards hung lazily on rusted hinges, creaking as they swayed with the cool draft. A rat-infested couch was hidden in a damp corner with moss growing at the bottom. The only somewhat useful piece of furniture was the metal table in the center.

It was odd to be accompanied by such a modern implement when the rest of the trashy building looked like it belonged in a landfill. Either way, Hero sat on the table, testing its strength. When it passed the test, Hero laid Villain upon it softly and began to inpect the bullet wounds again. The bad one stopped bleeding, but it still looked increasingly painful even though Villain was still unconscious.

Satisfied that Villain wouldn't die, yet, Hero started to search the minimally stocked cupboards. She found a handful of bungee cords, tiny nails as if the former homeowners were into hobby crafts, a mason jar, a metal rod, a various collection a thread, some sort of hemp material, and expired medicines.

She grabbed the nails and thread and walked back to Villain. It was far from ideal to use the nails to stitch, but it was all she had and would have to make do.

Hero tied the thread right under the head, praying that Villain wouldn't get tetanus from the rust particles, and started to sew the larger wound together.

As by some misdeed sent from hell, Villain awoke, screaming like a hungry baby bird. Hero left the nail half-dangling in his flesh and dug her hand into Villain's mouth.

"Shhhh," she cooed. "Someone could be out there. We are apparently fugitives now, remember? Remember the fight?"

It seemed to drain all of Villain's energy, but he nodded. Yet, the second Hero let go of his mouth, he started to curl into himself, whimpering.

"Knock that off," Hero chided and stretched Villain back out. "I need to access that wound."

Villain mewled, but didn't move.

"Okay..." Hero breathed and with a quivering hand, pushed the needle into the ruin skin. Villain hissed, abs flexing, but didn't holler until the head started to pull through Villain's skin.

Oh boy, did he scream. It was like a dying cougar, wild and ragged. Hero, ignoring the wordless pleas for mercy, laced the nail through. It made a small puncture wound, but it had to be done.

"I'm sorry!" Hero rushed over to Villain's head, gathering it into nervously shaking arms that were fueled by adrenaline. Villain's eyes started to glaze over and slip above his eyelids.

She couldn't keep doing this. Every pass, partnered with a screech, and then rushing to comfort Villain would take too much precious time.

Time that could be spent getting as far away as they could from the ravaging heroes.

Thinking briskly, Hero grabbed the metal rod with the tiniest bungee she could find, and appeared again at Villain's head.

"I'm so sorry about this," Hero apologized, and forced the rod into Villain's limply hanging mouth. The villain's eye widened and darted frantically around, searching for the cause of his discomfort.

Hero ignored the obvious signals of distress and pulled Villain's head up. She looped the center of the bungee to one side and then took one strand to do the same on the other. She then attached the hooks together and laid Villain's head down.

A pillow would also be more than ideal. The inevitable thrashing of the head would more likely than not cause some sort of head injury- whether substantial or not.

But Villain would have to do without.

Hero went back to the gaping wound on his stomach and resumed her threading... in... out... in... out...

Everytime, the nail head would have to be roughly pulled through, and everytime more tender skin would rip. Villain thrashed, smacking his head against the unrelenting metal and kicking out with his legs. Hero tried to get by with just sitting on his legs, but the flailing arms also proved to be a problem. She got up, once again leaving the needle haphazardly in the villain's wound, and returned with the hemp fabric.

She tied each wrist and each ankle with the scratchy material, snug. Villain who was resisting the friendly torture immediately fell back into his newfound restraints, sniffing pitifully.

"I'm sorry," Hero tried to reason, but her delirious and exhausted ward was beyond negotiations.

Hero sighed and continued to tend to Villain's wound. Villain pulled back as much as the taut restraints allowed; he bit down against the metal gag until his mouth begun to bleed. Hero winced, concerned that he broke a tooth.

When the first hole was completely stitched up, Hero cut the azure colored thread and strung some more out. She retied it to the nail and set them down against the table.

Hero noticed that the table was beginning to get slick with blood and sweat.

She then examined the bullet. The other one must've fell out when Villain teleported the pair. The dark beige color shone compared to the deep mahogany blood. Hero took two nails out and placed them on both sides of the bullet like chopsticks and tried to use the leverage to launch it.

She succeeded and the bullet just barely brushed against her ear, but the wound began to bleed heavily. Hero groaned and shoved her hand into the bleeding waterfall to staunch it.

Her ears started to ring as her heart pumped faster. Villain's body slumped against the table, his face going pale. Hero gasped for breathing, the wires in her brain not connecting. She didn't know what to do.

She messed things up, now Villain was bleeding out again.

Hero removed one hand and tried to tear a piece of the hunter green shirt she was wearing off; but she couldn't, the cotton material was stubborn.

"Shit," Hero gasped, walls of anxiety closing in around her. The air suddenly felt so heavy as if a furnace was just installed. Her hands trembled, not knowing what to do.

"Think Hero, think," Hero muttered outloud. If she released pressure, Villain would surely bleed out.

Hero leaned all her weight onto the wound. Villain gasped, trying to crawl away. His skin was clammy and unnaturally pale- even more blanch than before. His eyes kept rolling up into his skull before returning to a more neutral place.

His chest heaved in irregular breaths as his stomach convulsed...

He was going into shock.

Hero groaned and grabbed the end of her shirt and brought it to her mouth. She bit it and ripped it all the way to her ribcage. She replaced her sticky hands with the cloth and stuffed it into the wound. It slowed down on bleeding, and the shirt was thick enough to give Hero some time to help with the shock.

She ran to the cupboards and found a bucket. Bringing that over to Villain, she elevated his legs. He was gasping for air now and didn't seem entirely conscious.

She then took off his jeans and laid them over his legs. She remembered learning about shock in her early heroic classes- keep the victim warm and remove restrictive clothing.

She left his rolled up shirt and leather jacket on.

His pulse was insanely weak and too fast as if he was intoxicated. Hero pursed her lips and gently tapped Villain awake.

"Stay awake," she pleaded. "I know it's hard."

Villain lips quivered and he coughed up some thick, starchy liquid.

Blood.

Hero turned Villain to his side and allowed him to spill the scarlet color. All the while, she kept a close eye on the wound. The shirt was nearly drenched.

I could tie a tourniquet, Hero realized and gathered some of the hemp. She deftly wrapped it around Villain's mid torso and pulled it taut.

Stepping back from her work, Hero knew that she had to call someone. A hospital was a no, even with Villain in shock. She could give him a blood transfusion...

If there was adequate IV lines.

Hero rushed to the cupboards once again. It was a long shot, but it was the only thing she could do.

Find an IV line, She told herself- the request was weak though, no one could find an IV in an abandoned cabin.

Find an IV.

And that she did.

Not even wondering what use the prior homeowners had for an IV, Hero inserted the needle in her vein, immediately filled with gratitude for her O type blood and attached the other end into Villain's elbow.

She gave him enough blood until some of his color returned and he fell into an uneasy sleep.

Hero finished stitching the wound. Villain remained sleeping the whole time. She then removed the rod from his mouth and stuffed some more of her shirt on both sides of his mouth where the blood origin was.

Finally, when all the work was done, Hero laid next to Villain and wrapped an arm around his chest. He melted into the comfort, whimpering silently. Hero smiled and closed her eyes, asleep immediately.

She didn't notice the security camera in the corner of the building. The one with the blinking red light.

#villain whumpee #hero caretaker #injured villain #whump #whump drabble #unconscious whumpee #my writing #writing #heroes and villains #betrayal #blood tw #field medicine #tw gunshot #collapse #passing out

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brynwrites · 4 years ago

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Plot progression: points, twists, and hinges.

(And why hinges rock.)

Please excuse me while I assign already well-loved terms new meanings for my own benefit. (This is to say, writing terminology means something slightly different or goes by slightly different terms depending on who you ask. Two of the definitions I use here are based ones that stuck with me, while the third is something I pulled right out of my backside because it didn’t quite fit with my acquired definitions of the other two. Other terms and definitions are equally valid; I’m just using these ones until I figure out how to telepathically funnel wordless concepts.)

First let’s get basic: What’s a plot anyway? Tis a bunch of things that happen to move your character toward something. Usually this something is a goal. Win the war. Find the killer. Survive the winter. Get through the wedding. Kill the dragon.

Plots (should) have important scenes within them which propel them along. A full book that’s just a knight walking on a path for twenty-five chapters thinking about killing a dragon and then finally reaching the dragon to do so it boring. A book about a knight facing random trials that have nothing to do with the dragon she’s set out to kill is more interesting then walking. But the most engaging version of this plot would be if each trial she faced was connected to the dragon killing in some way.

We could, if we wanted to, label each of these trials with terms like plot point, a plot twist, or a plot hinge, depending on how they interact with the story as a whole. (Now I have to define what each of these terms mean to me. I set myself up here, didn’t I?)

We probably all know what a plot twist is. A big reveal. A shocking conclusion. A revelation that puts the whole story into a new light. (Luke, I am your father!)

Most writers will describe a plot point as some version of ‘an event which progresses the plot.’ This is all fine and dandy until you have to decide what counts as progress and how much of it you need for something to genuinely be a plot point. For the sake of this article, I’m going to call it anything that has a noticeable effect on either the ultimate or immediate goal of the story.

A plot hinge is a type of plot point. It can also include a plot twist. But not all plot twists or plot points are plot hinges, because a hinge actively swings the plot in a new direction. It takes the goal the story is set upon, and it rattles that mother-fork until its eyes pop out.

Let’s have some examples, shall we?

A knight is crossing a mountain on her way to slay a dragon.

While at the mountain, she fights a random dwarf. It’s a nice action bit where she’s in peril a few times and at the end, she kills the dwarf and continues down the other side of the mountain. A real page turner. (Spoilers: it’s probably, actually, not.) It’s also not a plot point (or, a plot anything), because the entire segment could have been cut without anything else changing. This whole scenario has no effect on what the plot’s current goal is, how it’s being accomplished, or how we perceive it.

If instead, while at the mountain, our valiant knight fights a dwarf with ancient knowledge on forging dragon-killing weaponry and convinces him to forge her a dragon-killing sword that ends up being the only reason she can kill the dragon at all, then you have what’s purely a plot point. The goal of the plot hasn’t been altered, nor our perception of it, but we’ve taken an irremovable step towards accomplishing it.

If instead, while at the mountain, our valiant knight uncovers ancient knowledge that reveals the villainous dragon is actually part of a much larger system of dragons with magical human form, and her own mother was secretly a dragon, giving her dragon blood of her own, this is purely a plot twist. The goal of the plot hasn’t changed, and we’re not closer to having killed the dragon, but our perception of the plot, how our main character fits within it, and what it should mean to us as readers, has been altered.

Pretty basic, yes?

Now imagine that those two things both happen while our knight is at the mountain, but as she’s leaving, the dragon she’s been riding out to face finds her. They battle. Barely prepared, our knight is losing terribly. She tries to flee, making it to the nearest town before the dragon finds her. In order to lay him low, his must use both her dwarfish weapon and her secret dragon powers. The town sees this, and decides she, too, is the enemy. A town guard steals her dragon-killing sword and tries to slay her with it. In a moment of compassion, the dragon she nearly killed helps her escape the town, but every knight our valiant half-dragon once fought alongside now sees her as a monster. And they’re coming for her.

This is a plot hinge. We just flipped out perception of the plot, tackled and crashed right through our main goal, and opened the doors for a new goal that’s still adjacent to our original one (and might still lead back to it by the end of the book—who knows, the villainous dragon might still need to be killed after all).

The trick with plot hinges, is the throw the reader for just enough of a loop to make the story fresh and interesting, without letting them question why the story before and after the plot hinge aren’t separate books. For a plot hinge to work, the plot must be pushed without being torn off the hinges. The old goal can’t be left dangling, limp with unfulfilled promise, and the new goal must build off everything the book has already established.

When done well, though, a plot hinge can turn a “this is enjoyable!” story into one that makes readers go “oh god, please read this, I NEED someone to scream at, I’m literally dying.”

I’m not going to tell you how many of these you should have in any given story. I’m not even going to tell you that you need to have any of them. (That would be hypocritical, as not all of my own stories do. Some are pulled along by simply plot points and twists, and they’re still perfectly enjoyable, if I do say so myself.)

You can also slip plot hinges into side plots, and make cases for what constitutes a hinge in character development. And at the end of the day, there’s a hundred different ways to build tension into a story and engage the reader. This is just the one I’m having fun identifying and analyzing at the moment.

And I hope you can set out and have fun with it to.

(Also, call it by my personal terminology. Pretend I, and I alone, invented a brand-new kind of plot point. Buy my book. Ascend me to godhood. Rebel and kill god-me to take back the world for humanity. Something like that.)

#writeblr #writers on tumblr #authors on tumblr #writing help #writing advice #writing resources #writing tips #writers on writing #amwriting #creative writing #plot points #writing tag: plots #plot tag: plot points #plot tag: plot twists #scheduled post #Just something I was thinking about this week

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paddymoonstruck · 4 years ago

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𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐬┃𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐫

chapter two

warnings: season 4/manga spoilers, mentions and depictions of death, death, war, cursing, angst, eren being an asshole

word count: 6,406

notes: PROCEED WITH CAUTION major season four/manga spoilers ahead !!! ALSO — I’ve read the last chapter and bestie lmao — i just wanted to pour the dread I felt by posting this chapter since it is also vv sad!!!! ENJOY THOUGH !!!

PREVIOUS CHAPTER/S: moodboard/prologue, one

𝐢'𝐯𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐬 𝐮𝐩 𝐦𝐲 𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐚 𝐜𝐨𝐰𝐛𝐨𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐞

A malicious smirk curled upon the lips of a certain brunette, head peaking from the corner of a concrete housing. His bright, turquoise irises scanned the friend group of his intended target, arms linked one after the other, walking towards to door that led to the hallway of the dorms.

“Eren, is this really necessary?” Armin whispered beside Eren, his voice shook in the slightest as he watched the bunch near the door.

Eren scoffed, nodding his head firmly, never taking his eyes off of them. “It wouldn’t have to be if she didn’t pour salt on my oatmeal earlier . . .” The frown that decorated his face was fleeting, the scheming glint present again, as anticipation bubbled in his stomach.

Devon Janea stretched her hand out, placing in on the metal knob, she laughed along to what ever Sasha and Nifa were chatting about. Her palm twisted the knob, giving it a light push. A soft clank ticked above her head, followed by the liquid icy flow that took her awhile to recognize as water. It cascaded from her head down to her boots.

Both of her companion let out a gasp, pulling the wooden bucket that had fallen on their friend’s head.

Eren’s smirk, shifted into a series of baffling hysterics, his gaze pointed at the now soaking wet Survey Corps uniform of Devon. Her golden brown locks dampened, turning them a shade darker.

Despite the numbing sensation of Devon’s body, she managed to catch wind of someone laughing annoyingly loud. Her suspicions were confirmed as her vision landed on an elated piece of shit kneeling on the ground, clutching his stomach a few feet away from them.

She made eye contact with a pair of ocean eyes as she looked up, which immediately swam in mercy. If she wasn’t freezing to death, she would’ve laughed at the fear on Armin’s face but she was able to comprehend was the desire to crush Eren Yeager’s skull into ash.

“Oi, Yeager!” She bellowed, unclipping her soiled cape from her back.

“You’re gonna get it now . . .” Nifa mumbled, earning an enthusiastic giggle from Sasha.

Eren stood from his place, chortling toned down to occasional chuckles, he crossed his arms to his chest, observing Devon’s shaking form as she approach him.

The exasperated expression that had morphed itself on her face never wavering. Her drenched footwear squelched under the Earth’s pressure. “You have five seconds to tell me why — oh why you did that.”

Apparently, the seething irritation Devon carried in her tone triggered Eren’s funny-bone because not a second later, stupid laughs poured away from his very much punchable mouth.

It was short-lived, however — since Devon’s patience had ran thin and next thing everyone knew, her arm swung back, fist colliding painfully against Eren’s abdominal area, producing a clean booming crunch.

A series of oof’s can be heard behind her which she could’ve guessed were a few people who had came to witness this brawl that occurred quite frequently much to their squad captains’ displeasure.

He had stumbled back a few inches, ass meeting the soil. The agonized groan that escaped his lips were a blessing to Devon’s ears, and her eyes feast at the same suffering that contorted his face.

Armin instantly came to his side, eyes wide in panic.

Wringing her moistened hair in both hands, she raised an eyebrow as she saw Armin’s pleading eyes. “Don’t give me that look — “ She scorned, a mocking smile dressed her features. “He’s the idiot that came at me.”

Eren shot her a murdering daggers. “You started it!”

A child — an immature child —

“Excuse me?” Devon questioned, hands settling on her hips.

“You ruined my breakfast!” His voice boomed inspite the pain shooting at his stomach.

Devon pondered his words, brows furrowing in thought. Just then, a memory flashed between her eyes, producing an inelegant snort from her mouth.

A hand came to cup her lips instantly, doing little to conceal the blooming grin that had appeared.

“Oh, that.” She affirmed, voice filled with mirth. “In my defense, you kept kicking my leg for no reason— so—”

A foot after the other, she strided towards the boy who had now gotten off the ground, fists clenched at either sides. Regardless of the noticeable difference in their height, Devon stood tall, as she looked up at Eren.

“—technically, you started it . . .” She narrowed her eyes, staring at Eren’s equally annoyed ones.

Almost half a minute passed, the open courtyard remained quiet as both Scouts stared in each other down as if waiting for one of them to disintegrate into nothing but ash.

However, A firm cutting tsk made everyone flinch. Devon and Eren seem to stumbled back onto reality, goosebumps rising on their arms.

Both snapped their heads to the terrifyingly familiar sound and behold— with a deep scowl resting on his usually neutral face, Captain Levi tapped his foot next to the sploch of wetness on the ground.

His sharp glare cutting through the babbling Scouts in the middle of the scene. From the fair amount of distance, they were sure the Captain noticed their shaking figures.

“It wasn—”

“She di—”

The Captain’s raised palm silenced both the excuses that came rushing out their mouths, clamping them shut in a split millisecond.

“Both of you—” He started, teeth gritting as he spoke. “No one gets a speck of lunch until you’ve cleaned this up.”

Resigned huffs and nods were their response, head hung low but burning glare for one another remained.

Her clammy hands clutched the fabric in a tighter vice, closed palms beginning to shake at the emotions that had invaded her mind.

Devon Janea was once again in a position she had promised herself to never indulge in— but as her eyes bore into the green cloth that held the symbol of freedom, her eyes began to sting, teeth in a compacted clench, causing a dull ache to reside in her mouth— an ache she couldn’t dare feel due to the greater torment, the object in her hands brought.

It was her old Scouts cape. She had kept it when they had announced the reinvention of the Survey Corps uniform. The cape meant a great deal to her yet every time she laid her eyes on it, nearly nothing joyful popped in her mind.

She despised the idea of hating this piece fabric— she hated it— but she somehow felt the need to.

All of the things that happened to her– good or bad, her cape hung on her shoulders and bore witness.

It was there— this old thing.

It was there when they went to battle mindless Titan’s outside of the walls. It was there when every stage of fear shot through her system every single time her squad-mates met their cruel demise.

In the times where she cried for her fallen comrades until the sun rose, she had hugged this piece of fabric to her chest, muffling her outmost despair.

It was there when she fell victim to Eren’s pranks and their childish fights. This was present in the time she had felt an outrageous amount of bliss regardless of the situation in the outside world– a time where all she thought about was surviving, with them.

But now— it was . . . gloomy.

A distant call from outside her window caught her attention and she immediately got to her feet, observing the armor that decorated her body. It was far from what they used to wear but nonetheless more efficient for their current predicament.

They were fighting humans now.

She had never thought this day would see the light but assumptions can always be shifted, can’t they?

It was baffling to her how they’d need more advanced and heavier equipment when it came to war against people in comparison to the weapons and wardrobe they utilized with Titans.

Big, scary, man-eating giants.

Her younger self would most probably shudder in fear if she saw her now. She’d ask her all these question in order to make sense of her actions and most likely pretend she understood when in fact, she’s been thinking of ways to turn her over onto a brighter leaf.

As she tried to imitate a happy smile she used to carry, she could almost see her other self seething at the fabricated action. She gripped the straps of her black uniform, the material fitted like a second skin but very comfortable to move around in.

With a last shake out of her doubtful thoughts, she grabbed the green cloak from the floor, hooking it across her chest while she ran down and into hell.

Time seemed to pass by quickly — that or Devon has been spacing out now and then as Commander Hange was explaining the plan of action. The parts Devon had caught irked her.

“We’ll have to cover for Eren as much as we can . . .” Hange’s tired, but firm mutter echoed in the airship that has been prepared by Zeke Yeager and his most gracious disciples.

“We have to assume that he’ll cause damages and openly declare war,” The commander nodded at them, her gaze flickered from one scout to another that surrounded the table in the middle of the room. “Jean, Connie, Sasha and Floch — watch out for enemies over at the west. Take half of Levi’s squad with you.”

Devon watched the circle of her comrades as she rested her body on a nearby wall, eyes fleeting to Hange as she caught her gaze.

“Devon,” The commanding tone in her voice caught Devon’s attention. “You and Mikasa are to find Eren — and once you do, keep close and make sure to have your eyes on him at all times.”

If it wasn’t for Devon’s self-proclamation to shut up and do as she’s told without complaints,, she would’ve jumped out this flying balloon hours ago. But, she matched Hange’s stoic glare, a nod confirming her cooperation was enough for the commander to continue her discussion.

In the corner of her eye, she could spot a figure walking towards her. She kept her gaze forward, clearing her throat once the said figure had stopped beside her.

“If you want to smack Eren, I won’t stop you,”

Be this a normal situation, Devon would no doubt laugh at Levi’s sudden statement. She twisted her neck to face him, she’s met with those steel, cool stare.

“I know.” She affirmed, folding her hands back, hiding the fidgeting of her fingers that had no plan on stopping until they’ve left this depressing island. “Maybe I will slap him later . . .”

She saw Captain Levi nodding along to her words, and despite not exactly saying anything else, Devon appreciated the random interaction that somehow calmed her nerves a little.

The minutes of Hange talking was the only sound bouncing through the walls were indeed just minutes.

A deafening roar quaked the skies, Devon’s eyes shutting, hands coming up to cup her ears at the loud volume.

Show time.

She stumbled at the front of the airship, hands finding support of its walls, her head peaked out the scene through the window.

There he was.

Or it.

The enormous Titan stood at an intimidating form of 15 meters, baring his muscled back to them. His roars continued to pierce their ear, making them flinch each time it rattled their hearing.

“There’s no time to waste!” Captain Levi’s command came riddling through all the commotion. “To your stations!”

With that, the scouts saluted, each scrambling to get their equipment together as fast as they can. Devon instantly ran to her gear, hooking it around her waist. Her hands reached to take a hold of approximately ten thunderspears. The supposedly cool metal laid feverish on her palm but decided ignore it and resume to securing the heavy weapons on her shoulder.

Another angry roar and a series of frightened screams rattled her nerves yet she refused to waver at the thought of the situation outside.

“Mikasa,” Devon called, the attention of the raven haired girl turned to her, nodding. “C’mon, let’s finish this.”

Fire — blood — screams — explosions.

The list was dreadfully endless. With Mikasa to her right, they swung above the unfathomable condition of the town. Devon tried to avoid looking below but agonizing wails were impossible to ignore.

She knew it would be a mistake to succumb to the temptation and just peak downwards. Beyond the apathetic eyes she had been giving nowadays, was that frightened little girl hidden behind Wall Rose.

Looking down would mean remembering.

It was unclear whether or not she opposed to it or not. Does she truly want to revisit that horrible time in her life in a crucial time like this?

“Don’t.”

Her thoughts lurched back at Mikasa’s sudden intrusion. Devon felt her eyes burn at the side of her face, urging her to return the gaze. Mikasa had a glint of tenderness in her eyes as she stared at Devon.

“Looking won’t help anyone.” As if she had read Devon’s mind, had her thinking if her conflicted thoughts showed on her face as well.

“It won’t.” She agreed, exhaling a breath she wasn’t aware she was holding. “Stand on that pillar, try to catch Eren’s attention — I’ll do the same on the that building at the left. Be careful not to be noticed by anyone else.”

The order came flying out of her mouth as Eren’s Titan form became more prominent to their vision. Mikasa swung to the direction Devon had ordered, leaving the latter to advance to her position.

Devon’s boots slid on the worn down roof of a house, fragile bricks now easy to pick apart, resembling a puzzle containing several missing pieces. She stalked towards the edge of the roof, squatting down to uselessly watch the treacherous scene unfold in front of her.

Eren turned, his eyes skimming through the civilians aimlessly racing away from him. Devon noticed how the large titan spun his head towards the right.

She had to squint to confirm that he did, in fact acknowledge Mikasa’s presence. A sigh of relief escaped her as she was sure of the exchange.

Past her relief was a gash of radiant light amongst the cauldron dark covered skies. Her eyes could hardly accommodate the brightness that invaded her sights but she could make out a form of a skeleton, slowly evolving with flesh.

She stumbled back at the thunderous punch the creature caught on its face. The tissues that haven’t fully developed yet squashed against Eren’s gigantic fist. Devon’s resistance to look away increased, with the amount of blows Eren delivered to the primitive titan as it wriggled uselessly below him.

A shot of a rifle snapped her attention away from the ongoing uproar to the source of the sudden gunshot. The thick layers of fog beneath the houses made it difficult to spot anything from where she sat.

At that moment, she hoped that Sasha and the others were able to place signal lights to ensure the clearance of enemies. She swayed her head hoping to catch a glimpse at anything suspicious from that direction but she was met with darkness and smog.

Devon gasped, hand abruptly clutching at the end of the roof as the ground trembled, followed by a loud groan which brought her attention back to Eren.

Her eyes widened at his state. His stomach now impaled in the center by a large pointy crystal lifting his limp body in the air. The titan seemed to have completed it’s transformation as it now stood, smoke seeping out of its shoulder, waiting for its arms to grow back.

She had never seen anything quite like it, despite being able to witness numerous unbelievable things in her days. The titan seemed to possess to ability to create structures using hardening, allowing it to make to spike it used to pierce Eren.

The strength this Titan possessed chilled her blood, instinctively look towards Mikasa. Luckily, she had her eyes on her too. And beyond the disaster, the distress that covered her features relaxed as Mikasa brought her palm up as a symbol to wait.

She turned her head back, fists balling tighter as the Titan grew a hammer on her hand, clutching the long handle. Devon repressed the urge to step in as it barreled the object towards an unmoving Eren, successfully smashing the crystal altogether.

Devon’s panic simmered down as a slightly smaller version of Eren’s titan emerged amidst the smoke.

Continuous flashes of light and booms of canons interrupted the fleeting solace Devon felt. Somehow, with all of those heavy weaponry, she was finally able to see the series of soldiers lined up nearly in front of Eren.

She saw his fingertips turn icy, incasing them in Titan hardening as he came up to cup his nape. He growled at his attackers, not noticing how to white fleshed titan swung back its hammer. He turned too late, only being able to provide his arms as a weak protectant.

Devon’s patience wore thin as she merely continued to watch as Eren was rid of his hands.

“The War Hammer Titan is a monster!” A joyful screech amongst the gloomy atmosphere pierced her ears.

War Hammer

“That’s what it’s called . . .” She muttered to herself, scowling at the name. “How corny.”

“It’s really going to finish off!”

Whoever it was, Devon wanted nothing more than to shut them up. Anxiety welled up inside her as the War Hammer Titan raised its weapon again, slowing as a figure — Eren — resurfaced from his Titan form.

She couldn’t help the feeling of a hefty weight being lifted out from her shoulders as she set eyes on his figure.

“Usurper, Eren Yeager,” The War Hammer spoke. “Do you have any last words?”

Although she could only see his back, a long inhale propelled her lips.

“Now or never, Mikasa.”

Loud and clear, Devon waited for it. As signaled, Mikasa’s form came rushing in the scene, almost too fast to be caught by the naked eye. She raised her arms, plowing a hefty sequence of thunderspears in the air and into the War Hammer’s neck, slotting it perfectly.

The release of the clip prompted its ear-splitting eruptions, blowing off its nape. Mikasa spun her body, eyes spotting Devon’s, an understanding nod between the two was exchanged and that was all it took.

She went off flying towards Eren, her heart pounding louder into her ears as she grew closer to his form. Before she could muster anything to say, Eren spoke.

“You guys actually came. . .”

Despite the lack of emotion on his face, Devon could hear the faint surprise in his tone. An unknown feeling of displeasure spanned on her chest as she examined the side of Eren’s face.

She noted the few but undeniably noticeable changes in his appearance compared to the last time she has seen him, reminding her of the many days they have been apart. His hair had grown past his shoulders, little stubbles have made it’s on his upper lip and — she would love to be wrong . . . she hopes she was because if she wasn’t mistaken, the vibrant turquoise hue in his eyes had dimmed into a spiritless pair of orbs.

The frown on her face didn’t falter, choosing to finally respond to him, “They were worried about you.” The admission seemed half-hearted yet she felt the need to tell him that in the moment.

“Eren,” In other circumstances, the hammering in her chest would absolutely delight her, but the one she was currently having flooded her with outmost dread, eyes piercing in to Eren’s own. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

Devon found herself crouching beside him, as if he wouldn’t hear him if she stood. “You’ve murdered all these people —” She had to stop speaking, aiding the ache of her mouth as the words dawned to her. “No amount of reasoning could save you from this."

The heavy sigh she released helped lightened the tightness on her chest, looking at her feet, the heat of Eren’s Titan flesh seeping through her body.

“Eren,” The tense exchange was cut short as Mikasa landed beside Devon, calling his attention. “Please, let’s go home . . .”

“It’s not over yet.” At his claim, both girls’ features morphed into confusion.

“What —” Devon’s eyes widened, stopping the query on her tongue. “Motherfucker — “

The ground rumbled along with the rise of the War Hammer Titan. Slowly, it started getting up, its palm pressing against its head, pushing it back onto the body effortlessly.

“That’s impossible!” The incredulous tone Mikasa expressed was no different from the look that Devon gave to astonishing incident playing before their eyes. “I blew off its nape!”

“And I crushed it with all my strength,” Eren added, his monotone voice unwavering as he studied the titan.

“Mikasa!” Devon’s body acted before her mind, eyes laying on the sparks blossoming on thee Titan’s hand, a crossbow has come to life.

As an instinct, she grabbed Eren, a hand coming up to his waist, the other pointing her ODM gear at the first concrete she looked at. She fired the equipment, grapple shooting out. When it hooked on the infrastructure, she wasted no time to tug Eren out of the titan flesh and onto the air with her, just in time before the arrow hit their previous place.

It had been several minutes since the Scouts retreated back into the airship. Eren was able to devour the War Hammer, nearly getting to the Jaw Titan if it wasn’t for Reiner Braun’s unexpected appearance.

The loud cheers resonated along the walls, bouncing back outside as they celebrated a mission success.

Devon would be lying if she said she doesn’t feel the uneasiness leaving her chest, as her head weaved through the crowd, eyeing everyone’s condition.

Thankfully, no one was hurt, perhaps a bit of cuts and scratches but besides that, they were all well.

A smile slithered it’s way to her lips, watching her comrades. Floch leads the bunch, raising his fist in the air. “It’s a huge victory! The New Eldians Empire ends in victory!” He declared, earning gleeful shouts of affirmation.

His words, however, stabbed Devon back into a harsh reality, face twisting into a crestfallen frown. Determined to keep her thoughts at bay, glanced to the side, finding Jean, Connie and Sasha huddled close to the open door.

She sauntered to them, resting on her knees to be at their level. “I’m so glad you’re all safe . . .” She muttered, a grateful gleam in her eyes sparkled, throwing her arms around the three.

Sasha, being at the middle, curled both her hands around Devon’s waist, the other two doing the same in their respective side.

Connie, of course, had to clap back at the intimate moment, mumbling against Devon’s shoulder. “You smell like shit, Janea . . .”

They laughed, shoulders shaking. Devon extended her arm to smack Connie behind his head, making the latter flinch but grin as he spotted the glare she sent him.

“You’re one to talk,” She scoffed, rolling her eyes. “You look like shit.”

He stuck his tongue out, shaking his head at the brunette. Said brunette merely smirked before standing, landing a soft pat at each of their heads. “Good job, guys . . . I’ll just go check on Eren.”

They nodded simultaneously, understanding the look on Devon’s face as she turned back towards the hallway but not before hearing Sasha’s enthusiastic yell.

“Let’s celebrate and eat a lot when we get home!”

Devon looked back over her shoulder, flashing her a bright grin and nodded. “I call pork stew!” She laughed, heart warming at Sasha’s beaming smile.

As she went on her way, wooden flooring creaked beneath the weight of her boots, approaching the men contained in the area. Her eyes wandered down, noting how Eren was sat on the floor, a scout pointing a gun at him while Captain Levi glared right through his soul.

“Captain,” She announced her presence, garnering closer to them, inclining her head as a sign of respect

Levi didn’t look away, “Cheer up,” He spat instead, “Everything happened like you wanted,”

Maybe it was her buzzing mind, or the overall exhaustion finally catching up to her. But until she followed their gaze, she didn’t notice Zeke Yeager perched on the wall at the end of the hall, steam leaching out from where his missing limbs were once attached.

“Jenea,” At Levi’s voice, Devon snapped up to meet his eyes. “Bind him with this,”

Before she could react, Levi had thrust a wheeled rope on her hands, leaving her with no choice but to grip the braided strands. She didn’t get a chance to respond, seeing the Captain and his fellow squad member exit the room.

Suddenly, Devon recalls the short exchange she had with Levi before leaping into battle, The thought caused her to peer down at the same person that was their topic of interest was now at her hostage.

Eren was already staring back at her, making her eyes narrow the longer she looked into his. The turmoil sprouting at her conscience wasn’t a pleasant indication. Yet, she shut her eyes for a moment hoping to calm her aggression.

When she felt it was enough, she opened them back up, swiveling her head to Eren’s direction. He had his wrists offered to her, beckoning her to get to it.

Without a word spoken, Devon crouched down and began to swathe his hands together, placing a cloth between his palms to prevent him from slashing himself.

“I’m not going to turn into a titan in an airship.”

Devon kept her concentration at the knot she was forming, grasped pulling against the binds, further restraining his movements.

“You’ll never know,” She whispered, retaining her hands on his wrist despite accomplishing her task.

The silence was unbearable, yet Devon resisted the impulsive sentences bunching up her mouth. She wanted him to say something— anything that could possibly tame the anger she had for him.

Flickering lights on the hallway continued, baring the stiff aura that pattered heavily upon the narrow space. Devon and Eren very much indulged in their staring contest.

It was akin to glasses at the edge of the table, waiting for one to finally fall and shatter into microscopic pieces.

As aggravating as the soundless room is, Devon’s pride was far too great to break it, eyes boring into the orbs she once adored. She began to think to herself of the things that might have happened for Eren to be brought back to her this lifeless.

The more time she invested looking at him, the wrenched ache in her chest became torturous. She wasn’t entirely aware what came over her, but her hand was already poised up in the air, her palm connecting against Eren’s cheek.

A graciously blaring slap, echoed against the room, probably heard around the whole airship. His head banging into the wall next to him, relishing the strength of the contact

Even being the one to strike, Devon’s hand burned at the impact, making hiss, the other hand shooting up to soothe her stinging palm.

Her eyes were blurry when she looked back to Eren, cheek had started to redden. All the reserved attitude she had been building up the whole day demolished simply by entertaining Eren Yeager’s presence.

She knew it wouldn’t be pleasant but she failed to recognize exactly how distressing it would be. Her chest was heaving, palm clawing at the skin, hoping for the ache to lighten.

“Devon,”

She was wrong. The initial thought of having him talk flew out her mind when she finally heard his voice. In the quite space they stood in, it seemed annoying loud. Despite merely whispering her name, it was like he had yelled in her ear, which made her cover them as she was currently doing.

“No—” Her voice shook, failing to maintain the authority in her tone. “Shut the fuck up, Yegear.”

She spun on her heel, turning her back on him, rolling her head up to gaze at the wooden ceiling. Her breath was still uneven as she exhaled, running a trembling hand along her locks.

“Wha–what did you hope to achieve?” She asked, pouring out frustration at every word. “I really want to understand— just please . . .”

I don’t want to hate you, she wanted to say but decided against it. Deeming the phrase inappropriate for the situation.

Without even having her eyes on him, Eren was well aware of her raging desperation. He knew why she was insistent and what exactly she wanted from him.

But all he had to say was, “It’s for everyone’s safety.”

If Devon was a volcano, she would’ve exploded right then and there. The bubbling vexation coursing through her veins made her head spin.

“Never in my life . . . and I mean never — have I despised a phrase as much!” She chuckled, no humor could be detected in the smile she flashed Eren when she turned around. “Is that it? Does that make all of this— justifiable?”

The blaze looming up her throat whenever she became a tad mindful of his eyes were indescribable. It infuriated her as she took in the state of the pair. So much that she felt to need to shield them from her vision.

“I don’t know what else you’re asking of me.”

At his blunt statement, Devon had difficulties deciphering which of her swirling emotions she wanted to project due to the outrage and melancholy submerging her sane conscience.

The little energy she had left prompted her to merely gape at his slouched figure, knotted wrists sat patiently at his lap. She lost the ability to make sense of his actions as his glare punctured her soul, sending an uncomfortable twinge in her heart.

“What happened to you?” Her hand slid to her neck, rubbing soothing circles to aid her shuddering tone. “I was angry the night before we came here . . . and even then, I still hoped for your safety— I hated that you left but I continued to believe that you had a good motive,” She willed herself to keep her eyes on him despite the impending urge to do otherwise. “But seeing you now — I’m beginning to doubt your stand in all of this . . .”

Being honest was something she wanted to do, even if she was in no way prepared for Eren’s response. She had to let him know as much as she needed proper answers to the swarm of questions she had thrown at him.

She touched her shoulder, wringing out the knot that was starting to form, as she ignored the noticeable tremble of her fingers. “You showed no mercy to anyone in this city — “

“No one deserved mercy — “

“Not even those children?” She was quick to surface the topic again, wide eyed as she awaited his reply.

It was one that made her heart stop, breath hitched at her throat.

“We were children too when something similar to this happened, weren’t we?” The way he delivered his question with no anger, but pure confusion halted Devon’s arguments, instead opting to study his expressions.

He spoke of nothing else but truth. They were children when Wall Maria was breached by the Armored Titan. In spite of not being a resident of that town, she was coincidently present when it occurred.

A dangerous chill cascaded along her spine at the memory of her younger sister. The image burned into her skull for eternity, how her little body got brutally smashed by a massive concrete that wiped out every thing in the perimeter she was standing on.

Devon lived with the regret of not being beside her, and letting her run further ahead without knowing it would be the sole cause of her demise.

“And we weren’t at fault just like those children.” Her resolve quaked in the slightest but she stood her ground. “They didn’t have any idea what was happening — They were just as clueless as us . . .”

Exhaustion was taking over Devon’s sight, far too tired to have a sensible conversation with Eren except the stubborn part of her refused to waver.

“Will you really no tell me?” Her persistence was starting to sound desperate, as she searched his eyes for the tiniest bit of sparkle she used to admire. Eyes drooped, her hands tugged at the rope on his wrists, pulling him closer as if she’d see what she was seeking in this proximity.

She nearly smacked herself at how foolish her thoughts had become. Perhaps it came from the perplexing sentiments she had for the brunette, those sleepless nights her mind wandered to him, as she sat on her bed waiting for him to make his way back.

Devon had buried emotions she deemed improper, and became more secluded when Eren left. She barely opened up to any of her close friends, fixing her face into a defaulted smile at times she felt the most unwell.

To see Eren give her the look she had been dealing with every time she stared at her reflection shoved her into a state of panic, immediately ambushing him with questions she knew would go unanswered.

With a deep sigh, she dropped her hand from its place, resting it on her side. “Alright . . . it would be a few hours until we reach Parad — “

A powerful bang startled them, Devon’s heart lurching on her chest as it had dawned to her that it was a gunshot. She stood rigid, unable to function despite the sudden commotion happening just behind the door at her right.

Fear rippled through her system as the furious yells turned into desperate pleas. Her throat ran dry at the single name a mix of voices shouted.

“SASHA!”

That fear was physically resurfaced as her palms suddenly felt damp, blood turning sickeningly cold. She eventually willed herself to snap out of it, grabbing the doorknob, almost flinching at the freezing kiss on her fingertips.

Too occupied by her thoughts, she hadn’t realized, she had pushed the door open until Connie’s deafening yell broke her cloudy mind.

“DEVON—” Her eyes snapped towards the panicked voice, unable to ignore it. A wish for it all to go away was the first thing that came to her as she eyed the fimilliar head of reddish brown hair that laid unmoving on the floor.

She struggled to react, helplessly trudging towards Sasha. “Sasha—” A shake at the shoulder was her initial response, shock still fresh in her mind. “Hey— Sasha! Hold on, okay? Stay with me—” Devon’s palm snaked to grasp Sasha’s, pressing harder, hoping to transfer some of her warmth to her terrifyingly algid skin.

Devon’s lips came down to where their hands were connected, breathing tepid blows onto Sasha’s palm.

“Nico—”

Hope sparked in Devon’s chest at the sound of Sasha’s hoarse voice, deflating the moment she notcied the severity of her condition.

“Is dinner ready?” The sob Devon released pained her commarades as they watched on, tears falling from their eyes as well.

“Sasha— Sasha . . .” Devon’s pleas grew hopless, as she delivered an impervious squeeze on her palm. “Please— don’t leave me . . .”

Sasha’s name spilled from her lips repeatedly, noticing the delirious swarm in her eyes, knuckles bathed in unceasing downpour of hurt dripping from her green orbs.

An unbelievablely excruciating pang barreled on her chest, as she felt the weak grasp of Sasha’s hand turn limp on her own.

“N— NO! PLEASE . . .” Fright surged on her bones, shaking hands slamming onto Sasha’s shoulders. Devon shook her still form, movements lumbered due to the amount of tears clouding her vision. The headache she had earlier worsened terrible, as it was forced to process the horrific scene laid out in front of her.

The tips of her fingers felt numb, as she caressed Sasha’s freezing skin, index and middle digit crawling up the side of her neck, gently searching for her pulse.

Although hope was wearing thin, she still found the strength to press at the spot, pausing for a second before shaking her head.

Connie’s hand that was applying pressure to the gaping wound on her abdomen loosen, as he drew in a sharp breath.

Jean, still having his ears shielded by his palms, had found the courage to turn around to see a heartbreaking image that will surely be imprinted on his brain for all eternity.

A series of loud cries erupted around her, making her realize that she had stopped weeping. The weight on her chest still unbearable yet she felt far too numb to acknowledge it.

Her eyes drifted to the door she had been in before the tragic accident, disappointment bubbling up her throat, not at Eren but at herself because even then, she couldn’t bring herself to be angry at him.

A single question hung lax of the fragments of her wits.

Why?

Why did Eren choose to do what he did? Why did Sasha have to be a victim of this monstrosity?

No doubt, this war was to further worsen, Sasha won’t be the last one to suffer the end of this bargain.

The fire of unwavering adherence set ablaze in her remaining morals, determined to unseal Eren’s true motives for his repeated sentiment; for everyone’s safety.

Eren was not an enemy, but he does serve as a threath if he continues to feed them obscure reassurances that might put them in a danger like this. The enemy was the thoughts boiling in his head, caging him alone with those possibly sinister notions.

Devon had a great hunch that Eren gives vague answers because he was hinding something important, a plan he knew they wouldn’t agree on.

Perhaps it was her drained sanity thinking, but Devon have passed the stage of giving a damn as she let the thought worm into her brain.

If she can’t beat the enemy, she would have to join them.

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fabdante · 3 years ago

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Ok, last one. The Kat and Artemisia post. Incase you missed them, this is part of a trio of posts on Baroque art and the DmC reboot trio and a separate post on the DmC reboot and the Baroque as an art movement.

The other posts if you want to check them out: Dante and Caravaggio, Vergil and Benini, DmC and the Baroque

Today for the final installment in this little mini series, we’ll be discussing the artist who won the Baroque, Artemisia Gentileschi, and her painting Judith Slaying Holofernes, featured below.

Analysis of this painting, why it’s such a bop, Kat, and the devil may cry reboot below the cut!

Content Warning: discussion of abuse as it relates to Kat.

I guess we start with the beginning and the beginning is who Judith is.

Judith is a biblical character. Upon impending invasion, she is unsatisfied with the response of her people and decides to infiltrate the enemy camp with her maid, intent to stop the enemy army. After gaining the trust of the people there, she eventually seduces general Holofernes and is invited to his tent. Then she beheads him with what I am left to assume is his sword. I suppose given the painting that part’s a little spoiled.

A lot of paintings focus on the beheading or Judith posing with the decapitated head in victory. But a lot of them don’t have the impact of Artemisias, as seen above.

Judith, as painted by Artemisia, is full of rage. She is not serene or delicate. She is not posing or unsure. She is angry, certain, and out for blood. Everything in her expression and her movements is full of force and intent. It’s the little details like his hair between her knuckles from where she’s gripping it and the forceful twist of her wrist on his sword that she’s taken. To her rolled sleeves in her incredibly fancy dress. And it’s not afraid to be gory to. Perhaps this is tame by modern standards of blood and gore but for the time it’s very bloody and violent. Supposedly the violence was too much for the first owner who kept it hidden for some time (allegedly). I think it’s important that while the focus is Judith doing the act, her maid is not passive in the violence. She’s holding him down with just as much force as Judith. And unwavering to, despite how we can see how Holofernes was trying to throw her off before he died, his hands still limply in the air. The maids full of as much determination as Judith is. Judith’s dressed up for this to, in a fine gown with her hair done up. This is likely part of the ruse Judith set up before she got Holofernes alone, but I like the detail none the less. That she’s dressed up for this murder.

The key to why this painting fits Kat so much to me is how it is not only full of anger and femininity and violence but how in Artemisias hands, the image feels like a bloody catharsis. There’s something personal in Judith's glare, in her rage. Something kind of interesting to in how she’s forced Holofernes to look away from her, like he hasn’t earned the right to see her victory even if by this point he is surely dead (I mean, the sword is nearly through his neck). Or like she doesn’t want to look at him at all, like he’s not worth looking at.

Likewise, for Kat, hunting demons is personal. The Order is personal. Why she’s here doing this is personal.

It’s personal because Kat killed her abusive foster father. I don’t think how impressive this is truly gets conveyed. It’s almost a throw away statement. It’s just that one line, ‘I killed the bastard’, and that’s that. Like it was easy or something. In the reboot universe, though, she’s not even in the same dimension as her foster father. We don’t get a lot of information about how much a demons human form impacts their demon form. We are told Mundus is fused to his human form, but we’re also told this is because he’s been in it so long and also there’s the matter of his relationship to the hell gate. We’re not even told how long he’s been in this form. Has it been years, decades, centuries? How long is so long that it led to this fusion? So, I don’t think we can base the average demon to this. As far as we know in canon, it’s Kat against a being in another dimension. A dimension she cannot engage with physically and to which he can escape to at any time.

And yet she kills him anyway.

She is the only human we know of in canon who’s done this, to. To be fair, she is the only human mentioned at all in the reboot canon but by how Dante positions himself as human savior and by how certain Vergil seems to be that humans cannot take care of themselves, this must be rare.

I cannot express enough how important it is that Kat is the one who kills him to. It’s not Vergil. She doesn’t say it was Vergil. It’s also not her and Vergil, she doesn’t say that either, she doesn’t say ‘we killed the bastard’. Kat says explicitly that she killed him, ‘I killed the bastard’. It’s Kats kill. No matter how much Vergil helped her, she did it. She killed her abuser despite the odds against her.

I can’t imagine the sort of catharsis Kat must have felt in that moment. We don’t know how she killed him, she never says. The greatest crime of the comics, in my opinion, are how they take this kill away from Kat and give it to Vergil instead. Which means no further elaboration there on what went down. But I can imagine her in that moment after, unsure how to feel with the rush of adrenaline and power and newfound safety. She’s done it. She’s done something she must have thought was impossible. And she tells us in game how this made her feel emboldened to handle the rest of demon kind. She doesn’t tell us in that many words, I suppose, but she says that she wants to deal with them all because she killed her foster father.

To Kat, this is personal. To Kat, mankind is something worth saving that she is willing to do everything to save. We don’t see her violence in game, but we know she’s willing to kill for this freedom. We know she’s willing to die for it to, given the aftermath of the Orders fall. It’s personal. And Kat sees it as something far bigger then her.

Often Kat I think is written off as someone who is naïve and weak and in need of saving. I’ve complained at length how I feel about her being called naïve. In game we see a very interesting, complex person in Kat I think. I’ve said before that it’s kind of fun to just watch her in scenes. Like really watch her. She has very deliberate body language that often betrays this calm she’s fighting to display, particularly around Dante for the first half of the game or so. It’s little things like how she physically contains herself after the ‘I like it rough’ comment, shutting her eyes and taking in a deep breath, but things that are there. She’s someone who, despite everything, is fighting to be a softer, kinder person even if she’s still got a lot of anger (Vergil does compare her and Dante, after all).

And being soft and kind does not make someone weak. Existing in a world where you are at a disadvantage to the things that aim to hurt you is not weak. Entering into your enemies tent armed with nothing but an elaborate gown and your anger, waiting until you spot a sword and an opportunity is not weak either.

I think something about Kat that is so often forgotten in the drama of the twins and everything else (because lets face it, no matter the media, female characters tend to get side lined for...everything else really), is without her the twins would have failed. It’s Kat who gets Dante and safely brings him to the Order. It’s Kat’s spells that bridge the human world to Limbo. It’s Kat who saves Vergil in the server room by way of bringing Dante to him. It’s Kat who ultimately gives the twins the final plan to get to Mundus. It was her. Dante says so at the end, to. The game recognizes that without Kat, the boys have nothing. And it's still Kat at the end who saves Vergil, and saves Dante from the guilt of killing him.

With Kat taking so much into her own hands despite her disadvantage, despite just being human, despite her softness, despite this rage boiling under her skin (or perhaps because of it), she is so much of why the world is free from demons.

I mean Artemisia herself got that treatment, largely left out of artistic canon until very recently despite her success during her time. I also debated for a very, very long time across the many, many iteration of this essay on how much I talk about Artemisia’s personal life. I suppose if you made it this far you’ve seen that I’ve chosen not to, despite how it could be relevant to this discussion. But I think her work stands on it’s own without me having to justify the anger Artemisia may have personally felt and conveyed here without bringing up her personal life in depth. Though, if you want to know, I assure you that pretty much any information you look up on Artemisia will go into detail on her personal traumas and how that might impact her work. And it could definitely be relevant angle in discussing Kat and Artemisia, I just felt it overall did not add to this essay.

I often wonder, if she was in a different game or a different medium or a different story, if Kat might get more love. So often she’s called weak for the crime of not having a big weapon and a trail of dead demons behind her. So often she’s reduced to a love interest or a damsel despite how she is really the thing that saved the day, despite the fact her relationship with both twins is much more then ‘potential love interest’. And how many times have you guys seen a post on your dash about wishing a character picked to enact revenge on an abuser? How they fought to be soft despite their trauma and pain? But I suppose, as is often the case with women in any story, she might have gotten this treatment anyway.

So, here’s to Kat. The brain cell, the Nephilim baby sitter, the girl who wanted to throw Vergil off a cliff, the hero Limbo city got who will never get enough credit, and forever the girl who deserved more.

Those of us who love you will love you enough for the whole fandom, it’s alright.

#dmc devil may cry #dmc reboot #devil may cry reboot #dmc kat #devil may cry kat #kat devil may cry #kat dmc #dmc: devil may cry #devil may cry reboot kat #tw decapitation #fab talks meta

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retrievablememories · 4 years ago

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the honeymooners | taemin (m)

title: the honeymooners pairing: taemin x reader genre: smut, angst, fluff request: “Taemin and his new bride get into a fight at the hotel they’re staying at in China because she saw her ex and was all touchy(not purposely) and he was jealous that other men looked at her despite she being HIS wife so he reminds her who she married after they get back to their hotel room and he shows her how much he loves her body & soul as they make love and after he apologizes for being so angry,tells her he loves her so much+is blessed to her hubby and can’t wait to have kids with her. ❤️” word count: 4.1k warnings: oral (female receiving), exhibitionism, unprotected sex (don’t try at home 🤪), creampie

For your honeymoon, you and Taemin decided to spend a few weeks in Shanghai. Everything was planned out ahead of time to make sure you’d have the best time possible — from the hotel you were staying in to the things you were going to see around the city.

Things had been going well for the first few days — just as well as you hoped and wished they would, and you honestly couldn’t imagine asking for anything more perfect. Well, that is, up until one particular night at the hotel where you were staying at.

You and Taemin had decided to eat dinner there that night instead of going somewhere else within the city, being a little worn out from all the sightseeing and activities and not wanting to make another long trip back and forth, so you headed to the hotel’s dining room.

Partly, though, you also suspected that Taemin didn’t want to spend anymore time out in the city because he was a little incensed about all the stares you were getting. Wherever you went that day, there were at least one or two men looking your way, perhaps a little more closely than they should’ve been. It hadn’t been an unusual thing to get stares since you arrived in Shanghai—you were a foreigner in a new land—but today, it was more intense.

Taemin had enough sense not to blame it on you or what you were wearing, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t still going to be angry with the men who were looking at you. He’d held your hand a little tighter, pulled you around the waist more closely, leaned in more than necessary to hear your words whenever you spoke to him. He wanted people to know you were taken—though it was already obvious and didn’t seem to deter the glances either way.

You’d tried to laugh the lingering looks off, but Taemin didn’t find it as nearly as amusing as you did. Still, you continue to hope that you can steer his mind away from this subject once you get to the dining room and start on your meal.

“Everything is so fancy here,” you say after you’ve taken your seats at a table. “I’m glad we chose this hotel. You don’t get to see this kind of luxury everyday.’

“I’m glad, too.” Taemin scans his eyes across the room, taking in its elegance and beauty in a way that he hadn’t got to do when you’d first arrived in the city. Already, he feels a little more calm after getting away from the prying gazes of so many people out on the streets.

However, something out of the ordinary soon catches his attention. “Isn’t that…?” Taemin pauses and cocks an eyebrow when he sees a familiar face across the room—one he’d rather not recognize. Your ex-boyfriend.

“Who?” you ask, but your question is immediately answered when you also see the man standing across the other side of the room. “Jesus, is that Joseph?”

“He works as a waiter here? Of all hotels in the world?” Taemin says, instantly looking a bit disgruntled. If he’d somehow known that, he honestly never would’ve booked this place, but it’s far too late to do anything about that. Maybe that’s an extreme way to try to avoid your spouse’s ex, but Taemin didn’t want to have anything to do with the man and wasn’t interested in starting now.

You and Taemin were friends long before you began a relationship and got married, and this particular ex was one Taemin was never quite fond of. Back when you and Joseph were still together, he always liked to make a show of having you on his arm and engaging in PDA at every possible opportunity. You, thinking it was a funny and cute way of showing affection, didn’t have much to say about it at first, but it annoyed Taemin to no end.

It seemed to Taemin that Joseph did everything he could to show you off as a trophy. Not because he genuinely felt anything for you, but because he simply liked being able to say you were his. He even liked the attention and envy that came from other women who’d wished they were his instead, even if it ended up with you being embroiled in drama.

Maybe that was just Taemin being petty back when he didn’t even realize he loved you, but he still swears there were a hundred other reasons besides those to dislike the man. Besides, he felt more justified in his theory when, after breaking up with Joseph, you told Taemin you felt your relationship was just too surface-level, no matter how hard you tried to get closer to him.

“It really is a small world,” you say, though Taemin sees more irony than humor in it.

As if the luck couldn’t get any better, Joseph ends up being the waiter assigned to your table for the night. Taemin has to suppress the urge to roll his eyes at Joseph’s recognition of you two, complete with the overdone gasping and the shocked eyes about to pop out of his head. If there’s one thing he’ll do, he’ll put on a show.

“Wow, Y/N! It’s been a long time, I would’ve never thought I’d see you here of all places! Funny how fate works, huh?” Joseph reaches out to shake your hand, and Taemin’s eyes squint at the sight of his hand in yours.

“Aha, yeah, it’s really ironic, isn’t it?” Your smile is kind enough, but you still feel a bit awkward about the whole situation.

Joseph turns his attention to Taemin, who is sitting with a half-smile, half-grimace on his face. “Congratulations on your marriage, by the way! I’m really glad Y/N found someone who’ll take care of her.”

“Uh, thank you.” It wouldn’t have been you anyway, Taemin thinks to himself, and smirks a little.

“How ironic that her future husband was her best friend all along...you know, I still remember when you used to wear that bowl cut.” Joseph laughs good-naturedly, probably thinking he’s just making a light joke, but Taemin isn’t quite so entertained by it.

“Ah, yes! Remember when you couldn’t grow a beard?” Both men laugh, though Joseph’s chuckle is a little bit more strained at that unwelcome memory. You laugh too, but only to try to keep the mood light and avoid making the situation even weirder than it already is.

“Um well, I’m gonna see what’s available if you guys aren’t done reminiscing on old times just yet...” you say, hastily flipping through the menu for something that looks good. Joseph takes your drink orders and goes off to prepare them, leaving the two of you to silently breathe a sigh of relief at his departure.

Taemin peeks at you from over the top of his menu, shaking his head slightly. He glances to the side as he does so, as if he expects the other man to still be watching your table. “This is going to be a long night.”

“It’ll only be that way if you already believe it is,” you counter. “Everything is fine. Just enjoy the meal, and we’ll be back up to the room soon enough.”

Unfortunately, you don’t yet have the ability to predict the future, so the night ends up being more uncomfortable than you anticipated it would. You maintain a polite manner with Joseph whenever he comes over to serve you two, but he does little things that seem to edge the line of “platonic,” like touching your hand or your shoulder a little too frequently.

Taemin bites his tongue only because he doesn’t want to start an argument with the man and make you upset on your honeymoon, but he’s also irritated with seeing him touching you almost like you’d never broken up. Like he did when he used to parade you around as if you were a state fair prize.

As always, Joseph is there when Taemin has paid the bill and you’re both ready to leave, and Taemin grits his teeth when he gives you a parting hug as you stand up from the table. In Taemin’s perspective, his eyes linger too long on your form in your evening gown, and his hands take too long to separate from where they’re holding your arms. “Don’t hesitate to reach out if you ever feel like catching up, okay?”

You nod, feeling a little embarrassed because you know Taemin is fuming beside you, but you don’t want to be rude and cause a scene. “I’ll keep it in mind.”

Joseph turns to Taemin and shakes his hand. “Nice to see you after so long, buddy. Take good care of her; you’ve gotten really lucky.”

Taemin squeezes his palm a little harder than what’s socially appropriate. If the other man notices this, he doesn’t acknowledge it. Taemin’s smile is fake and obviously doesn’t reach his eyes, but he forces one anyway.

You and Taemin leave the dining area arm-in-arm, though you feel he’s a little stiff beside you. You aren’t even sure what to say, still reeling from the situation yourself, though you do know you feel both guilty and irritated. “Look...I know that didn’t go very well. But please try to relax, Taemin. Honeymoons aren’t for being angry with each other.”

“You’re right. They aren’t. And yet...” Taemin’s tone is dry. “How can he be so bold? Hugging a married woman like that. He’s always been unbearable.”

“He was just...happy to see us! I don’t think he meant it as something deeper than that.”

“He was happy to see you,” Taemin argues. “He just wanted to get on my nerves. Do you really think it was normal for him to be touching you all night like that?”

You shake your head and sigh. “No, but what could I do? Throw a fit in the dining room and get kicked out? See, this is why I said you need to relax. Everything doesn’t need some overblown response.”

Taemin doesn’t heed your words, though; the ball is rolling now and you know it probably won’t stop. “Would you feel happy if it were the other way around?” he continues as you get on the elevator to go back to your floor. “I’m the one who’s married to you, yet I’m feeling like some kind of third wheel to all these men.”

“Okay, I get it. I wouldn’t be happy either, but none of this was my intention, Taemin.”

“I never said it was,” he sighs, and you get the sense that he’s frustrated you aren’t quite getting what he’s trying to convey. He doesn’t volunteer any more words after this, and you aren’t in the mood to try to pry further.

You’re both quiet for the rest of the ride up to your floor, with you having no clue what to say to rectify the mess and Taemin being too busy trying to sort out his own emotions.

When you get to the room, you decide to head for the shower alone—a contrast to the other times when you could barely peel Taemin off you this past week—and get ready for bed. You didn’t expect to be dealing with conflict during your honeymoon, but you guess it’s a first introduction to what married life will be like. You toss your shoes somewhere off to the side, sighing to yourself.

“Wait,” Taemin says as he sees you making a beeline for the bathroom. You glance back to him, though you keep half your body turned the other way, thinking he will try to continue arguing his point about why he’s upset. “I want to show you something.”

You hesitate for a moment, wondering what he could possibly be talking about. “Show me what?

Taemin steps closer, diminishing the space between you, and despite yourself, you're curious to see what he’s up to. You soon find out just what his plans are when he kisses you. You hesitate for a moment when you feel his lips on yours, but you eventually respond to the gesture.

Taemin’s hand goes to one strap of your dress and tugs it so it falls down your shoulder. You part from him for a moment to glance at the fallen strap. “Now you want to do this? After getting all worked up earlier?” you ask, raising your eyebrows at his action.

“I can get angry about it if I want; you’re my wife,” Taemin retorts, tugging you even closer to him by the fallen strap of your dress. You’d almost laugh at his statement in any other situation; you’re a little reminded of his normal childish antics he likes to indulge in, but he looks perfectly serious here.

“And you think I don’t know that?” you reply, looking at him with eyes that are both searching for some kind of resolution and burning with irritation.

“Of course you know it. You’ve known it everyday since I slipped the ring on your finger, since we began our honeymoon, and you’ll continue to know it for as long as we both live.” Taemin speaks in a voice that isn’t quite demanding but still firm enough to make his point crystal clear; like he’s trying to make you understand while still handling you with kindness. “You’re everything to me, and I want to be sure you understand that I love you more than any other man could.”

Though you wish you had some clever response, you don’t quite know how to reply to that, because it’s true. He’s yet to fail in reminding you of all those things, but you also know he feels like he must prove himself right now. So you simply nod and bring your hand to his neck so you can kiss him again, feeling his soft lips under yours.

As the kiss deepens, you use your free hand to slip the other strap off so you can begin sliding your dress off, but Taemin parts from you and stops your movements instead.

“Get on the bed,” he says, “on all fours.”

You do so, wondering what move Taemin will make next. He pushes your dress up a bit so he can pull your underwear off, dragging the fabric off your body slowly. You don’t know where he throws your underwear to, but he climbs up on the bed behind you after he does.

You wait in anticipation to see what he’ll do, feeling his hands ghost over your hips and ass; then there’s the drag of your dress up over your hips and to your lower back, baring you to him.

“This is all mine,” he says quietly, and you feel his breaths on your skin. You tremble at being able to sense his presence behind you but being unsure where exactly he is, and then you gasp at feeling his tongue pushing at your entrance. Taemin holds you still against his probing tongue as you moan and whimper softly, trying to keep your voice to yourself for a reason you’re not entirely sure of. Maybe because you’re still a tiny bit upset and don’t yet want him to know how good he’s making you feel.

Taemin sets out to change that easily, though. He lets go of one of your hips to add his fingers in, sliding them against your soft inner flesh and feeling you get wetter from the action. His tongue slides further down to your clit and caresses the little nub, circling it and curling around it delicately. It makes the back of your neck warm, along with the rest of your body; the heat spreads through you as if you’re catching fire internally. You dig your knees more firmly into the mattress and grip the sheets tightly, trying to keep yourself steady as Taemin works on you.

You eventually have to lower yourself to the bed a little more so you can keep yourself stable. Taemin takes advantage of the slight change in position to push his fingers into you at a different angle, drawing more weakened sounds from you.

You’re disappointed when he pulls his mouth away, though he only does it to speak. “You taste so good and look so pretty like this…all spread open for me.” When returns to eating you out, he does it with greater determination this time, succeeding in pushing you headfirst into your first orgasm of the night.

“Oh God, Taemin…” you gasp as your climax floods through you, overtaking you like an ocean wave or a strong gust of wind. He doesn’t stop there and keeps pushing you up that peak of pleasure until you’re stumbling straight into another orgasm, his fingers manipulating your body and his mouth refusing to let go.

You finally sink to the mattress when he lets you go and gives you a reprieve. And even in your muddled state, you notice how he slips his hand under your stomach, helping you lower yourself to the bed, his palm warm and firm against you.

Taemin strips your dress the rest of the way off as you shake from the aftershocks of your orgasms, and he lifts your hips up some so he can do so, as you’re a bit too boneless to cooperate at the moment. He removes his suit jacket after that and unbuttons his shirt, and that is when you finally get enough strength back to turn over and watch from him your spot on the bed.

“Look at you,” you murmur, “Do you really think I’d ever look for anyone but you?”

Taemin smirks, slipping his shirt to the floor. He unbuttons his slacks, but he doesn’t take them off just yet; instead he pulls your ankles to bring you to the edge of the bed, making you yelp in the process.

“Hmm. Doesn’t it feel good to be recognized by someone who loves you?” he responds, grasping your arms and raising you forward so he can scoop you up. You secure your legs around his waist so you can hold on, and he doesn’t seem to mind that you’re getting his pants wet by doing so. You think he might take you against the wall, but he carries you over to a chair and table within the suite’s sitting room, located beside one of the large windows. He sets you down on the table, though you’re a bit reluctant to separate from him at first.

“Recognized…” you repeat, and then realize his words might’ve had a double meaning. You watch with questioning eyes as he pulls one of the curtains back, revealing the city’s nightscape to you. “Have you lost it?” Your suite is high up enough that no one from the ground level or the buildings below will easily be able to see you, but you still feel a thrill of fear and excitement rush up your spine.

Taemin turns back to you, and his smile is mischievous. “Not at all,” he says, and pushes both his pants and underwear off without a second thought. “If you don’t want to, we can easily put the curtain back in place.” He moves as if he’s going to do just that, but you reach out to stop him.

“Uh, wait, you don’t have to…”

Taemin comes back over to you and holds your face in his hands, and his wedding ring is slightly cool against your cheek. He whispers, “How does it feel to know we’re exposed like this? No one can see us, but we can see everything below...we belong only to each other.” His member pushes against your thigh, smearing precum against your skin. He’s hot and hard against you, his cock poking ever closer against your inner thigh and teasing your lower lips but not entering yet.

“It’s…” You glance at the faint reflection of your figures in the window as he hovers over you, situating his arms so they’re braced on either side of your body. You swallow harshly, trying to find the words to describe it. “It’s...weirdly erotic.”

Taemin takes your chin between his fingertips, guiding you to look at him. “So you like being watched? Did it excite you to have so many people looking at you today? Your ex?” Taemin’s tip pushes more firmly at your entrance and slips in, making you gasp and grip the edge of the table.

You shake your head as sweat beads up on your skin. “I only want you, Taemin.” You lean back on the table to look up at him with your most sincere eyes. He groans at the sight of you looking so pliant and submissive for him.

Taemin grips your hips as he pushes the rest of the way in, and he’s gentler than you’d expect given his earlier anger. Still, his thrusts are slow but deep as he pulls your hips into his, and you tremble and sigh as he glides against your walls so smoothly. It’s like he’s marking himself inside you so you’ll never be able to get rid of him.

Your eyes drift over to the window again, eyeing the many smaller buildings beneath you and observing the shadow-like reflections of your bodies merging together. Maybe he was right, to some degree. You do like the feeling of being seen-but-not-seen like this, completely wrapped up in each other even though your activities aren’t totally private.

Taemin slides his tongue into your mouth and spreads your legs wider as if he can burrow himself within the tight grip of your body forever. You’re willing to find out if he can. Your desire is spurred on by the idea of your husband filling every space inside you and causing you both to blend into one whole being.

His hands touch you all over, flitting across your skin like butterflies. His eyes, though, settle squarely on your face, holding your gaze inside his own. Although you’ve seen his sharp expressions when he performs on stage countless times, now his stare is characterized by a certain tenderness and a soft gleam, which threatens to bleed over into you and color you with its pure affection.

Seeing this look, you fully understand that there’s no hiding how much he loves you, no matter how mad or jealous he gets...which you already know well, but it’s always nice to have the confirmation.

Taemin comes before you do this time, filling your womb with the warmth of his release, and as lascivious as it is, it also makes you feel strangely comforted. You know he belongs to you, and you him. He gives you a tender kiss as if in apology—for coming first or for being mad, you aren’t sure—and his hand drops between your bodies to rub against your clit. Soon, you are coming too, wetting his softening length and moaning at how your body sucks him and his cum in deeper.

You are amused by his sudden change in mood after he’s satisfied and the agitation has completely left his body. He’s suddenly shy about having the curtain open and pulls it back hastily, reaching his hand backwards clumsily because he doesn’t want to pull out of you just yet.

“Was that spur of the moment?” You giggle, looking at his pinkened face. You hold his cheeks like he did to you earlier, feeling the round lines of them shift in your palms as he grins.

“I’m sorry for acting like that earlier.” Taemin shifts his face in your hands so he can kiss your thumb.

“Oh, really?” You give him a skeptical look, but he chuckles and shakes his head.

“I’m serious.” He pauses and then says, “I love you so much. I don’t like it when we get upset with each other…the only thing I want to argue about is what color we’ll paint our future nursery, or what baby names we like best. We shouldn’t argue over things that don’t matter in the end.”

“Ah, you’re so sentimental.” But you only say this to take the edge off, not wanting to shed tears right now. Still, you wrap your legs tighter around him, overwhelmed by his declaration and feeling like your heart could burst from the excitement and love you feel at the idea of doing those things with him. “Tae...if only you knew how lucky I feel.”

Taemin grabs you by the backs of your thighs and picks you up again, and you know you’re probably making a mess of the floor with his cum dripping out of you, but you can’t be bothered with it now. His smile is nearly blinding. “Hmm, well, let’s go to the shower and you can start from the beginning…”

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vickysaurus · 3 years ago

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What if season 5 was two seasons?

So watching through season 5, I kept noticing how fast the pacing had to be with the amount plot threads there were and how often I went ‘I wish we saw more of X’. So as I’ve mentioned a couple of times, I’ve started wondering if it might’ve been better if its story had been spread over two seasons rather than one. Now, obviously I understand that kind of change would not have been in the crew’s hands and no matter what they wanted would likely have been impossible. This is not intended as a ‘they should’ve just done this’ but as a thought experiment. Would a sixth season even have worked? So I’m gonna try and figure out how season 5′s content might’ve been done over two seasons in an alternate universe. In order to keep straight how far in the seasons we are, I’m gonna number the episodes 5-1 to 5-13 and 6-1 to 6-13 for clarity.

-5-1: We’re gonna start off immediately inserting an extra episode: The Fall of Bright Moon. Rather than a time skip, we get to see the first days of the invasion and the evacuation of Bright Moon in the face of overwhelming force. Micah has to switch back into being king, Adora has to deal with losing She-Ra, Bow has to deal with losing Glimmer. There’s a major subplot about Scorpia working up the courage to apologise to Entrapta and the two of them reconnecting. Perfuma probably helps her with that. That sounds like a pretty busy episode, but I think the first two Velvet Glove scenes from Horde Prime should probably be moved to it to not just leave Catra and Glimmer hanging completely.

-5-2 to 5-4: Horde Prime, Launch, and Corridors stay mostly the same. Since I moved the first Velvet Glove scenes to 5-1 and we can probably cut a bit of exposition from Horde Prime with the addition of that episode, these episodes get a couple minutes extra, which is split between an extra Glimmer and Catra in jail scene and some more of Scorpia and Entrapta’s friendship in Launch.

-5-5 and 5-6: An extra season gives us time for worldbuilding and more of the new characters, and since I like the Star siblings I’m gonna selfishly give them a bunch more screen time. The plan to save Catra takes more preparation in this version, leading Best Friend Squad and the Star siblings to go on an adventure on another planet after Stranded, one that is under Horde occupation but hasn’t been destroyed by them. They’re there for either information or some kind of device they’ll need to get on the Velvet Glove, but end up sowing the seeds for a local rebellion on the planet. We’ll see more of that plot later on.

-5-7: Save the Cat. It’s perfect as is.

-5-8: Taking Control’s A plot, enhanced with some scenes from Don’t Go into a full episode.

-5-9: This is where Taking Control’s B plot with the chipped Etherians goes. To go with it, Best Friend Squad is going on another space adventure after a rendez-vous with the Star siblings while they try and escape the Horde. I’m thinking maybe Hordak could be one of the clones searching for them, and while he doesn’t come face-to-face with Entrapta we could see some more of his conflicting feelings building in the course of this. Just a moment’s hesitation on his part allows Best Friend Squad to escape. Catra befriending Glimmer and Bow is a major part of this episode, and it basically bridges the gap between the little overtures between them in Taking Control and Catra as a part of Best Friend Squad in Shot in the Dark.

-5-10: Kyle, Lonnie, and Rogelio only get a cameo in season 5, and that’s something I really want to change. I want to give them a ‘Lower Decks’ episode where they’re basically just trying to go about their lives post-Horde but rapidly discovering the war is impossible to ignore. I feel like we don’t see enough of the normal Etherians in general, and I think these three are a great way to show how they’re doing.

-5-11: Perils of Peekablue. However, the scene at the end where it turns out Micah is already chipped and so are enormous amounts of Etherians doesn’t happen yet.

-5-12 and 5-13: So now I need to have a big season finale happen, and unfortunately Shot In The Dark, while a great episode, is also a little too low-energy to fit the bill. So what I’m gonna do is make it the B-plot of a finale two-parter. The A-plot is set on Etheria, and is basically some big climactic business where the Princesses, General Juliet, (remember her?) and many common Etherians take the fight back to the chipped princesses, and things go well until disaster strikes and Micah gets chipped. Pretty vague, I know. The ‘Lower Decks’ episode we did sets up a lot of the plot here; Lonnie, Rogelio, and Kyle are probably involved in it. The two-parter ends with the big ‘Oh fuck everyone’s chipped’ moment at the end of Perils of Peekablueas the big season-ending cliffhanger. After that scene, we switch to Best Friend Squad landing on Etheria, and that’s how season 5 ends.

-6-1: I think An Ill Wind would be a solid season opener as is.

-6-2 to 6-10: Yeah, I’m gonna take this whole block of episodes in one go, because this is where it gets complicated. Return to the Fright Zone and Failsafe take place in this block, but it’s beyond my ability to figure out the full plot developments of this entire season. While for season 5 I can keep to the structure of Best Friend Squad’s space adventure, season 6 is gonna be a lot more freeform, and would presumably have major plot elements added. Here’s my thoughts on these nine episodes:

-The chipped princesses get unchipped earlier. They provide good heartwrenching moments, cool bossfights, and allow for major villains ranking below Prime without having to introduce new characters, but I think ultimately it does the chipped princesses a disservice since they just don’t get to show character in the second half of the season. Just compare how well we know Netossa as a character with how well we know Spinnerella. So they get unchipped over the course of these episodes and get to be with the Rebellion again afterwards. Mermista and Spinnerella get unchipped the same way as in canon. Scorpia actually gets to talk while chipped and has a heartwrenching confrontation with Catra in which she basically responds in the worst possible ways to Catra’s regrets (the same way we saw chipped Catra basically being am expression of her worst traits) and they have a fight that’s super rough for Catra, but Catra manages to damage her chip and save her. They have a better chat afterwards, and that’s when they make up and hug it out. I think Micah is the last one to be unchipped, and I might actually keep him chipped until Heart, Part 1 so Glimmer still gets that climactic confrontation with him. Now, a possible concern is that this means there’s just not gonna be enough ‘bosses’ around to fight in Heart. Solutions to this could include for example advanced robots, chipped minor characters like Huntara, Dumbface Octavia, and alien monsters. Maybe Hordak? Though I definitely want him back on the Velvet Glove’s bridge in time to give Prime his date with gravity.

-So that’s sort of the major arc, but there are several characters and plot threads that I feel could easily be an episode’s A- or B-plot in this bunch:

*Catra is mortified when she realises she caused Angella’s death and has a big freak-out over it and tries to run away, Glimmer confronts her and they deal with their feelings on the matter

*Another Kyle, Lonnie, and Rogelio episode

*A Wrong Hordak episode where he discovers his own identity and picks a name, also feat. Entrapta’s attempts to reach out to Hordak

*Madame Razz episode where Adora tries to get her help, possibly involving the Crystal Castle and George and Lance

*Sea Hawk and Double Trouble drama kids adventure where they try to save Mermista (I think Mermista vs. Sea Hawk and Mermista being unchipped gets moved to the end of this episode). These two were delightful for the little time we saw them together in Perils of Peekablue and I want Sea Hawk to somehow rope Double Trouble into an adventure.

*All the space adventures and world building I put in season 5 coming to a head when some form of space reinforcements led by the Star siblings come to help.

*And of course Return to the Fright Zone and Failsafe.

-6-11 to 6-13: Heart is now a three-parter, deal with it. Horde Prime is beaten at the end of part 2, or more likely the start of part 3, and the rest of part 3 is that sweet dénouement I crave.

So with all that laid out, let’s return to the question: would this work? I think if it had originally been written to be two seasons, the story could have easily worked for two. As is, I’m retrofitting a single season to be two, so some of the stuff I’ve added sounds rather redundant or vague. There are certainly enough plotlines and characters to make a split work, but of course those would’ve had to have been written into the plot from the start to not feel tacked on. Of course, brevity is the soul of wit, so even if two seasons had been an option, it’s quite possible a single that has too little time is still better than two that have too much.

#spop #she-ra and the princesses of power #meta #season 5

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princessfbi · 3 years ago

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Ok I have got to know what happened with Oliver's character on that one show that makes you rage so hard every time you see him.

WELL NONNIE I'LL TELL YOU!

This is a warning for spoilers if anyone wants to watch this show because my rage cannot be contained.

OK SO...

This show is called Into the Badlands and Oliver's character is named Ryder. Basically the premise of this world is that it's kind of post apocalyptic/alternative universe where humanity got so caught up in trying to one up each other that it sort of imploded and now you have this society where either you're super wealthy (the Barrons), super poor (Cogs and Nomads), or somehow a ninja (The Clippers and whatever the hell MK was supposed to be). ANYWAYS....

Ryder is the son of Barron Quinn. Now the surviving land is either divided into like factions run by Barrons (who control a majority of major trade) or there's these lawless lands that are run dredges of society. You either become a Barron by killing another Barron (which is what Quinn did) or you are an heir apparent. Ryder is more an heir presumptive because Quinn won't outright name him his heir even though everyone just assumes it.

This is because Quinn is batshit crazy and thinks he can just live forever through sheer stubbornness and will alone. This is especially hard to do because he has a massive brain tumor that's dwindling down what little bit of sanity he has leading him to make questionable choices such as killing the only doctor they have in the lands who would've been useful pretty much for the rest of the series but go off Quinn. Ryder has a lot of resentment towards his father, which I will get into in a minute, and at the same time has gone out of his way to prove to Quinn that he's a worthy heir. Except Quinn keeps comparing Ryder to his second and regent, Sunny, and he's just all around a shitty person in general.

NOW HERE'S THE AMAZING BACKSTORY WITH RYDER:

So, when Ryder was a child, he was kidnapped by these nomads who were trying to blackmail Quinn. Ryder's mother begged Quinn to pay the ransom and save Ryder. Quinn... refused. So the nomads tortured Ryder and (Gross warning) like cut off part of his toes and disfigured his foot in the hopes of crippling him and scaring Quinn into giving to their demands.

Quinn, again, refused.

Eventually Quinn's regent at the time, Waldo, defies Quinn's orders and goes to rescue Ryder from these nomads. Waldo defying Quinn is a big deal because he's a clipper which is basically a soldier (often brought in from the slave faction called Cogs) and they take their oaths to their Barrons very seriously. Barrons trust no one but their regents because again you can become a Barron by killing them. But Waldo always had a soft spot for Ryder.

SO Ryder is saved and eventually nursed back to health but he always has a bit of a tragedy cloud hanging around him because from what we were told Ryder was a very sweet, bright child before he was kidnapped and was brought back as "a broken bird" and he's been doing everything he can to get rid of the broken bird image ever since.

Quinn resented Ryder for making him look weak and Ryder resented Quinn for... Well being a heartless dick.

But here's the crazy part... They both, in their own way, still kind of loved each other.

Now I won't bore you with my rant about how the best antagonists are often the tragic figures who have fallen from grace (Peter Hale, Draco Malfoy, Loki to name a few) BUT I will say Ryder had the PERFECT foundation of showing that fall. He was an asshole and hard and spoiled and super privilege but also soft and still a little broken. There's a whole other narrative involved too with his childhood love and how his dad planned on marrying her but we won't get into that.

ANYWAYS Ryder still had this desperate need to prove to his dad that he was a worthy heir but in his attempts to prove himself (and his dad's fall into madness) his dad started seeing him as competition. Competition and another objects (like Quinn saw with most other characters but especially Sunny). But Quinn has this weird kind of pride when it comes to things that he considers his and an attack on his property is an attack on him. There's a character named the Widow who lured Ryder out and tried to kill him slowly and personally as well as Sunny as an attack on Quinn and he went bananas (sorta).

Ryder was fine eventually but he realized that trying to prove himself to his dad was never going to work so he decides to try the other option: which is killing his dad. Partially because if he doesn't, Ryder is smart enough to know that Quinn's going to get him killed, but also because Quinn's descent into madness is spiraling faster and faster and Ryder wants to protect the legacy. Nothing to inherit if his dad burns the whole thing to the ground!

Long story short, Sunny turns on Quinn and stabs him and everyone thinks Quinn is dead and Ryder takes credit for it therefore succeeding his dad by becoming not only Barron of his father's lands but some other Barron that got murdered by another subplot that was pointless.

Now Ryder is determined to bring peace to the lands (not out of some noble obligation but because he just wants people to chill the fuck out). And for the most part... he's doing okay.

BUT THEN PLOT TWIST HIS DAD IS ALIVE AND CRAZIER THAN EVER.

Basically his dad storms Ryder's house, chases him down in the garden, and they fight. But Ryder's foot that was crippled when he was a child trips him up and the fight gets even messier. Ryder's sword breaks and Quinn points the sword to his own chest and tells Ryder to finish him.

Ryder hesitates and so Quinn takes the sword and stabs Ryder. You know like a rational father would do.

Quinn then asks Ryder why he hesitated and Ryder whispers "because you're my father" before he dies in Quinn's arms. Quinn is... horrified because he realizes that with the death of Ryder is the death of the last parts of his own humanity. He mourns Ryder but also like... takes no responsibility for killing him but neither did Ryder so he can't process it. Later on he's haunted by Ryder but again the man has a giant grapefruit sized tumor in his brain so it's all very reverse Hamlet if you will.

SO LOOK AT ALL THIS POTENTIAL!

THE REASON I RAGE:

Is because Ryder was set up to fail from the beginning. Which is great!....... If that had actually happened. The show worked so hard to tell us that Ryder was a failure and a coward but if you look at it from a story perspective... Ryder was the opposite of a failure. Every time someone told him he couldn't do something, he proved them wrong. Again and again and again. But that was never good enough for anyone. So that vicious cycle would've been amazing to see!

But instead of exploring any of that, we had to watch a storyline that was frankly ridiculous from the beginning that took up way more time than it should. There's a character named MK, who was supposed to be inspired by the myth The Monkey King, but if you don't know that story then you never would've figured that out. Hell, I knew the story and didn't figure it out until I had to google his name because I kept forgetting it. In comparison to everything else happening in the show, this magical mythical storyline just didn't fit and I'm not kidding when I say I watched a season and a half of this show and forgot about MK every time.

Now if you noticed my icon is Buck in a Box. That's an inside joke I have with a friend about this fucking show. The first scene starts off with Sunny stumbling onto a group of Nomads who go absolutely feral about this massive box they don't want him to look inside. Turns out MK was in this box for reasons that were too weak for me to even remember but again MK was entirely forgettable. My friend and I kept talking about how it would've been better if Ryder had been in the box because the Ryder and Sunny rivalry had so much unexplored potential that would've been incredible if we started from the very beginning instead of just being told over and over again that Ryder hates being compared to Sunny.

Sunny is the main character and Quinn, unlike with Ryder, was incredibly proud to have Sunny "in his possession" and Ryder hated him for it.

But did we get to explore that? NO! Did we get to explore the parallels of Sunny and Ryder chafing at being considered possessions by Quinn? NO! Did we get to explore the trauma Ryder was working so hard to shake off? NO!

Instead the show spent so much energy victim blaming Ryder essentially for being the son of a Villain and his Nonsensical Ambitious Mother who had the misfortune of being kidnapped by bandits as a child while telling the audience that Ryder was never going to succeed. That Ryder had no honor and was a coward and weak.

They spent way more time trying to tell us that we should hate Ryder and that he was a bad guy but didn't do ANY of the work to show the fall from grace to prove that. Ryder remained a tragic figure that didn't fall from grace but was rather pushed off by lazy writing because they wanted to focus again on this magical ninja boy with a penchant for getting in the way and ruining everything.

I rage because Antagonist and Villain are not the same thing. Ryder had the potential of becoming a villain and his death by the hands of his father would've cycled him back into the role of a tragic figure. But instead... it was just wasted.

THAT is why I rage. You had the material right there and yet you spent so long telling us that we, the audience, don't like Ryder instead of showing us anything that would make us not like him (besides the whiny white boy thing).

Instead I found myself rooting for Ryder. Like could you imagine if Ryder and Sunny went against Quinn together instead of having the weakest rivalry known to man? Could you imagine Ryder's fall from grace of wanting peace in the lands as it turned to greed? Could you imagine Sunny becoming actual competition for Ryder instead of being manipulated to do so?

WE GOT NONE OF IT.

THIS is why I rage.

#I'm so sorry nonnie #I ranted #But you asked for it #So here it is #Oliver Stark #Ryder into the badlands #Into the badlands #anon #ask #answered

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dotthings · 4 years ago

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So here’s my thoughts on an alternate ending plan for S15. While the remade heaven was something that fit, very little else did, and if they were aiming for self-actualizations being fulfilled the ending didn’t convey that. It feels incomplete to me (I have posted enough analyzing why and that’s all I’ll say here). This is a more earth-bound take. An ending where all of TFW 2.0 defeat Chuck and are together and figuring out life free of Chuck’s maze. This also incorporates some of my previous meta spec that didn’t get addressed at all in the finale but things are left so ambiguous, I have no reason to think my spec can’t be canon now. Also I think if canon can screw things up this royally, then I’m allowed to state that my version is not only kinder, but makes more sense. I’m sure there is some loose end I’ve missed, and I’d want to have all the Wayward Sisters appear too. Gosh, endings are hard!

Envisioning this as one extra long episode. To be extra subversive I’m still using the start of ep 19, but mostly this diverges after the end of ep 18.

-the phone call from Cas in ep 19 isn’t a troll from Lucifer (Lucifer can stay trapped in The Empty for all eternity). It’s actually Cas.

Here’s what happened: The Empty took him, fulfilling Cas Jungian arc about confronting his shadow and instead of fighting it, accepting it as part of himself. Inside Cas, a soul has been growing for many seasons now. Spontaneous soul combustion. It started small and kept growing. The act of confessing his love to Dean was the final spark to complete the growth. As The Empty drags Cas away, Cas’s grace merges with his soul and the grace is the power jolt it needs to make his soul blaze to full life. His grace is effectively gone, burned out in the act of bring his soul into being. The Empty cannot hold him, his soul is pure, and he’s not filled with self-loathing. The Empty spits Cas out in Lawrence, KS because that’s where Cas’s soul home beaconed to. Effectively human, this process was fairly traumatizing to his body, so he’s weakened. He staggers across town to outside the bunker, calls Dean, and collapses. Dean (as we saw in ep 19) races up the stairs and reaches Cas first, but Sam isn’t far behind, and both boys help Cas down into the bunker. Dean, being Dean, can’t stop touching Cas. There’s some awkwardness after Cas’s confession but they aren’t going to talk about it yet. Dean’s just relieved to have Cas back

-Jack’s also overjoyed Cas is back. Cas explains to the fam what happened and that he has a soul now. This will change the dynamics of TFW interact, changes Cas’s demeanor slightly, and how Dean and Cas interact, but Cas’s personality is basically the same

-Michael sides with TFW. His decision to stand up to his father is sincere. There are Cas and Michael scenes where they start reaching some kind of understanding of each other’s pov

-There is a further scene showing Sam mourning the snapped Eileen, as he finds something that belongs to her in his room

-They hatch a plan to confront Chuck. Cas assumes he’ll be joining them but Dean balks because Cas is freshly human and not battle-ready. “You and Sam are human, and you’re going into battle” Cas argues. Dean’s not really being logical about this, so Dean and Cas bicker while Sam, Jack and Michael have to go guys? Guys? Evil god to stop? World to save? “Get a room,” Sam snaps.

-Dean wins the argument, mostly because Cas has to give in just so they don’t stay derailed. They proceed with Cas holding down the fort at the bunker in case they need a further spell or information from the MoL archives

-They confront Chuck at the beach. Following some parts of ep 19, Chuck starts pettily beating up Sam and Dean, who refuse to give up. Sam and Dean shoulder to shoulder, laughing at their enemy through their bloodied faces. (That was a good moment, I’ll keep that) Michael intervenes, Chuck tries to destroy him but Jack steps in. Chuck is fending both of them off for the moment. Kind of looks like Chuck might overpower all of them. He raises his fingers to snap them all away

and a familiar voice yells HEY ASSBUT. Cas hurls a magical molotov cocktail at Chuck. Because Cas he found a spell, and while the thing certainly won’t kill God, it certainly makes for a great distraction. Chuck’s body burns for a moment, and then the flames go out with Chuck unharmed. The distraction allows Michael to get the upper hand enough for Jack to grab Chuck and absorb his powers and render Chuck powerless. They all leave Chuck on the beach.

-Michael looks deeply amused by the cocktail. “At least you didn’t hurl it at me this time”

-unsnapped Adam switches in.

-Sam and Dean look beat to hell. Cas says something sad about how at one point he could have healed them with a touch but he can’t now and Sam and Dean reassure him it’s fine. Cas asks Jack to heal them and Jack says he’s going non-intervention God and yeets. Sam, Dean, and Cas seem taken aback by this move and their son vanishing into thin air

-Michael switches back in and offers to heal them but Sam and Dean refuse again. Cas rolls his eyes. Typical Winchesters.

-Sam calls Eileen. “Eileen, are you okay?” All is well. Dean checks on Jody and the girls. They’re fine. Everyone unsnapped.

-Adam switches in again to say goodbye but maybe see you soon, shakes hands with Sam and Dean. A promise of maybe someday they could figure out how to be family. “Where you headed to now?” Dean asks. “Around, I guess,” says Adam, and then Michael switches back in and says “the french fries on earth are worth hanging around for a bit” and Michael yeets out.

-They won. They’re free. Chuck’s defeated, Jack is going to be a new, uncorrupted God. But wait, there’s still half an hour left, what’s left to resolve? What else could there be?

-We get a montage. Sam and Dean continue to hunt, the bruises and cuts on their faces from the battle with Chuck fading. A scene of Dean giving Cas shooting pointers and Cas is a pretty decent shot but maybe he should hold the shotgun a bit higher. Dean sure does keep touching Cas a lot when it’s not necessary. They still haven’t talked. Sam doing laundry. Dean studying a job application at the desk in his room. The bruises and cuts from their fight with Chuck are almost gone. Eileen hanging out in the bunker, she and Sam doing research at the library table, laughing as Sam makes a joke.

-Sam, Dean, and Cas get wind of ghoul activity and set out on a hunt together. Dean and Cas are waiting together, leaning against the Impala, while Sam is inside a gas station getting them all snacks.

Dean: Are you okay with this? Human...forever?

Cas: I’m adjusting. Rather enjoy being able to taste the pb&j again.

*Awkward silence*

Dean: Cas—what you said—I—

Cas: It’s all right Dean. You don’t have to say anything. I told you, it’s not about the having, it’s—

Cas doesn’t get to finish the sentence because suddenly Dean’s holding his face in his hands and then leans in and kisses him.

Dean pulls back, staring right at Cas’s stunned pikachu face.

Dean: What makes you think you didn’t already have me?

They hold each other. Sometimes it’s not in the saying it’s in the actions.

Sam, who just emerged from the gas’n sip station, stands there holding packets of junk food and yells “FINALLY!” and Dean and Cas jump apart. Dean is beet-red but both Dean and Cas look happier, more peaceful than we’ve seen them look in a very long while.

-Standard hunt. They kill some ghouls, badass Team Free Will action scene. Cas gets taken off guard, but Sam has his back.

-Back at the bunker. Sam answers a text from Eileen—they’re meeting up next week.

-Sam, Dean, Cas are in the bunker having dinner when Jack randomly appears. Raises his hand. “Hello!” They’re all startled, but tell Jack they miss him. “You don’t write, you don’t call,” Dean complains. “Well,” Jack says. “I figured just because I’m non-interventionist doesn’t mean I can’t stop by for dinner once in a while.” “Darn right,” says Dean.

-TFW 2.0 have dinner together. Jack mentions he remade heaven, no more barriers. Released trapped souls like Kevin’s to heaven. New set of rules. Mentions he met with Rowena. They’re working out a better system. Reform.

“I would have gotten rid of the monsters,” Jack explains, “but can’t do it without upsetting the natural order of things—what’s done is done. The alternative is to reset everything. I won’t do that. Too much would be undone, too much good lost.” The implication is also: while he won’t intervene and be the God perching on Team Free Will’s shoulder, he also can’t bring himself to do anything that will undo them. “Sometimes it’s all worth putting up with a few monsters,” Sam says.

Jack vanishes again. “Guess we’ll get used to that eventually” says Dean.

-very last shot. It’s dusk, outside the bunker. Sam and Dean leaning on the Impala, watching fireflies, drinking beers. Not talking, just being.

Dean: We did it.

Sam: We did it.

Dean: Well, here’s to freedom.

They toast their beer bottles. Both look more peaceful than we have seem them look in a very long time.

Overhead shot of Sam and Dean, the Impala, the bunker.

*Kansas version of Carry On, Wayward Son plays*

#The15YearShow #Team Free Will #Sam and Dean: a work in progress #Destiel #Saileen #Sam Winchester #Dean Winchester #Castiel #Jack Kline #Chuck #Michael #Adam Milligan #Midam #altendingverse

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popculturebuffet · 4 years ago

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Justice League: In Blackest Night Review: A Case Study in Why John Stewart is Awesome

Hello my Green Lantern Corps and happy black history month! And happy 40th Anniversary Year to John Stewart. And let’s get this out of the way now not the one replaced by trevor noah who handed Tucker Carlson his ass on television and got his show canceled, please do it again John i’d be greatful, and has a weird obession with how Pizza should be. No i’m of course talking about the Green Lantern, the third from earth and the second to headline the book itself, John Stewart. But to me.. he was my first Green Lantern and one that gave me a deep and abiding love of the Corps since all thanks to this very episode. It’s thanks to John I’m the green lantern loving nerd I am today and without him I probably wouldn’t of found Guy, Jessica, Simon, Alan, and Kyle not to mention got into the varoius other corps. It’s thanks to this episode I wanted to seek out these wonderful characters eventaully and in part why I got into JLI, one of my faviorite teams, among many ohter great things and books.

So quite obviously both this episode, which I haven’t seen in probably a decade, and John have a great place in my heart. And thus it warms said heart to FINALLY see John getting the recogntion he deserves: he’s going to be one of the starring roles in the upcoming HBO Max series, he was on Scott Snyder’s justice league, and he’s now going to be headlniing the main Green Lantern book going forward under writer Geoffry Throne, who like me was VERY sick of the Hal Jordan show the Green Lantern franchise could become at times, and also like me gave out about it a LOT. The fact DC hired him despite a very public and easily accesable record of him slagging of their use of Hal instead of him ESPECAILLY in the new 52 reboot aka why Cyborg is in the Justice League movie as Geoff kinda shoved hal in there despite John being a more sensible pick and doing so not only shoving the Martain Manhunter, who this show also gave me a deep lasting love for, out of the team but forcing Cyborg onto the team despite fitting with the titans better and, AGAIN there being a black green lantern and given the New 52 kept the history of there being multiple lanterns, no reason Hal could’ve been SECOND instead other than DanDiDio’s bitchy habit of EVERYTHING WAS BETTER ON MY EARTH that poisoined the company for a good decade before recently.

And yes I felt the need to rant about that, yes Green Lantern the animated series is still good mind you, I just got tired of bland white guy over “Really awesome, really layred especailly thanks to this series black guy”, “stubborn asshole white guy whose hilarious and has a heart underneath the layers of douchebag”, “creative and imaginative white guy who has as personality and really uses the ring in fun ways”, and more recently “A muslim superhero struggling with his past who’se also really energetic and fun and has an intresting family life” and “Latnix superheroine who struggles with anxiety and actually struggles with constructs and once she gets past that has very unique ones”. In other words, yeah I’m bitter because everyone else was more intresting than Hal, and it’s only in recent years with Jessica gaining promience and John regaining it that DC’s finally broke out of that and is actually using the intresting ones, and again without John I wouldn’t be a fan, so they had no real excuse to barely use him outside of the comics if at at all after a while.

So yeah as you can tell by that rant and by how specific it got for each lantern, this is one of my faviorite franchises, as said this episode is responsible and so for Black History Month I felt i’d be a huge mistake on my part if I DIDN’T cover my boy John and this episode and see how it held up. The fact it’s his 40th anniversary wasn’t something I was aware of, but now I am, expect more Johncentric episodes from Justice League sprinkled throughout the year to celebrate one of my first and possibly best GL.

Naturally before we get to the episode we have to get to the series itself. The series was launched as Batman Beyond was winding down. Bruce Timm wanted to keep the crew together, something I could empathize with since Owen Dennis and JG Quintel have ran into that same problem lately, with most of their crews drifting off during the gaps in production and Owen desperate to get the show renewed before he lost everybody. A good crew isn’t had to find in animation but KEEPING them for multiple shows or seasons can be. And there was one project the fans wanted more than anything: The Justice League. After all BOTH Batman and Superman had had tons of guest stars, especailly the latter, with Batman having Zantana show up and Superman having the Flash (Wally West), Green Lantern (Kyle Rayner) and Aquaman all show up. There were seeds there.. but Timm was relcutant as he had trouble ballancing 2 or 3 heroes in a fight scene, wanting to keep them al lin focus so fans didn’t wonder where they were and they didnt’ have to cut back and forth, the idea of juggling 7 was daunting. So as Beyond was finishing production a few things happened: The first is that they did the episode The Call, focusing on a future version of the League, and while only a two parter, it showed Timm his crew might be able to juggle a team of heroes after all, and second was the pitches Timm made BEFORE justice league. Since Kids WB had been hteir partner for a while now they tried pitching both a batman anime, he did not provide many details, and in his own words a “Kidified” justice league, basically the justice leagued mashed with the titans including a female version of cyborg. It was the latter pitch, which was rejected by Kids WB, that finally convinced Timm they could do this, but if they did it couldn’t be half assed or having compromises. it had to be what it SHOULD be. So they went to somewhere new, if in the same family and asked cartoon network, who said...

And here we are. They took their time to work out the characters, apparently taking a lot of delbiration, mostly on which GL to go with, and if they were going to do a hawk wether to go for hawkman or hawkgirl. In the end the roster was the iconic big 7 one, in large part thanks to Grant Morrison taking that concept and reviving it in his run on the team, but shaking it up slightly: Barry was naturally replaced with Wally West flash as he was THE flash in the comics, gave a slightly younger member for the others to play off of, and was more popular.. something Dan DiDio plugged his ears and went LALALALALALAL about for a decade before FINALLY leaving the company so he could stop screwing with a character he hated for reasons that can be summed up as ‘MY FLASH IS BETTER. YOU’LL LIKE MY FLASH.. YOU’LL SEE I JUST HAVE TO MAKE THE OTHER ONE A MASS MURDERER.. THAT’LL SHOW YOU FOR NOT LIKING WHAT I LIKE”... I still have maybe a smidge of lingering issues over how wally was treated the last few years after his return. I do not apologize for htem or for doing a little dance when I found out Didio was gone.

Point is it wasn’t the only subsitution as Hal Jordan was replaced by John, obviously and rather than use Aquaman, they went with Hawkgirl, though Arthur still got an episode focusing on him fairly early into the series which has the iconic moment of him cutting his hand off to save his son. I dare you to find something more badass. Bruce both liked her deisgn better and felt it helped with the gender ballance.

So with all that set and with some growing pains to get through they had their show so join me under the cut to see how it turned out. Spoilers: It good.

We open INNNNNN SPACCCEEEEEEE, as a coaltion of neat looking aliens wants justice and has gone to a space court lead by three weird alien faces, likely inspiried by the kryptoian tribunal in the donnerverse superman movies, with their prosecutor sending a group of mysterious robots known as the Manhunters to go fetch the accused for a trial: John Stewart. Given he’s voiced by Kurtwood “Red Forman” Smith, i’m very surpised he didn’t order them to also put their foots up his ass. Maybe he’s saving it for the trial.

After the titles we cut to John himself whose in shades and trenchant for reasons.. I mean it looks neat, but he’s in his old neighborhood not hunting down his exes killer or trying to hide the fact he’s a ninja turtle. Why is he all disguised. I mean sure WE know people are coming from him and given what he thinks he did he knows.. but he has no intention of running from what he did. It’s just a weird stylistic choice. That said we do get a cool sequence when while casually walking he notices a robbery, and stops it simply by first stopping the wheel then levitating the car.. and while he does get a little showy shaking the guy upside down to return the money.. it’s all very controlled. It shows off how John works. While we’ve seen him at work as Green Lantern before this this small sequence says volumes about john in the span of a few minutes, showing that shilw he HAS immense power, he only uses the amount he needs, knows when to hold back, and only shows off a tiny bit, and even then he’s likely still keeping the theif absolutely safe. It also provides excellent foreshadowing for later as to why the League takes his side even when he refuses to defend himself, as it shows that John really is a professional true and true.

He runs by a basketball court and fails to make a basket when throwing a ball back to a kid before meeting his old gym teacher, who turns out to be the kids uncle or something like that, and invites John to join them as they go to the barber shop. The kid wants John’s haircut, his granpa says the usual and i’m wondering why as John’s haircut isn’t that radical: it’s a miltiary style cut, belying the fact that for this series, while it dosen’t come up in the plot here, John was a former marine instead of an architect. Honestly.. this wasn’t a bad change, giving us the deciated and measured john we know, to the point the comics gladly retconned it in. Not that it’s really a huge deal given it meelrly adds shades to the guy and dosen’t prevent him from being an architect. It just adds lairs by giving a reaosn he’s so focused and driven. He had it drilled into him and carried it with him.

Meanwhile on the watchtower The Flash clumisly tries to get to know Hawkgirl better and maunver into asking her out, though it’s clear sh’es not intrested. Still even if he can’t help flirting, and it sometimes gets creepily obnoxious, it’s still better than I expected remembering this running subplot, as he DOES try to get to know her and what she does in her off time, even if it’s to set up asking her out, and is trying to ask her out instead of just hitting on her or doing anything far more creeptacular. It’s still not great mind you and hasn’t aged well at all.. but for the time it’s not TERRIBLE and again it goes away pretty quickly in favor of the much more intresting John and Shierya relationship.

Flash accidently shoots himself in the foot.. conversationally though given how Wally is at this point in the series I wouldn’t be suprised, by asking the Martian Manhunter, who gives Hakwgirl an easy exit if he’s ever felt alone.. you know the guy whose entire race including his wife and child died horribly. He quickly apologizes though and John understands he just stuck his foot in his mouth at lighting speed. And it’s not the MOST insensitive he’s been about Jonn’s dead wife.

But things are soon interupted as Jonn notes “We have an incursion!”

But the Avengers are dealing with all of that so they can instead focus on the Manhunters shooting toward earth. I really like this as the primary reason Batman set up this station was to monitor for alien threats, it just because the Leagues base because superman had the idea to stay as a team and it was a good un, and given earth JUST had an invasion, as this likely isn’t too long after that given it’s only the second set of episodes, it’s understandable they’d be on high alert.

So our heroes move to intercept. As the first episode after the pilot this one also sets up a recurring part of the show and a necessary one: only a handful of Leaguers would feature in each two-parter, as the episodes for the first two seasons were essentially one hourlong story split into two episodes. The only exceptions were the three part premire, the three part finales for each season, and the sole solo episode comfort and joy which is fucking awesome and my faviorite christmas episode period. But even with the extended run time the crew simply felt i’td be unwiedly to juggle 7 characters eveyr episode, feeling it’d eventually get to original series star trek leevels of having one just manning a console or something. So rather than try and cram them all into every episode, they choose who they needed and gave valid excuses for the rest when necessary. In this case Batman and Wonder Woman have solo missions their busy with , as does Superman whose adressing an earthquake. Our heroes try talking to the Manhunters.. who refuse to talk to them and then also say their coming for John, and aren’t explaning why. So naturally a brawl breaks out as the League SHOCKINGLY dosen’t want their friend who as far as they know has done nothing wrong taken by a brutish paramilitary force who won’t actual talk to the citzens their policing or try and be coporative. More on this in a second. The fight itself is pretty awesome as our heroes fight as evenly as they can.. but it’s clear their outgunned outplanned outnumbered and outmanned, as while their you know the justice league and do their best and Jonn is in Superman’s weight class the battle makes it VERY clear their barely holding in there and that the blast from the manhunters rods are just too potent for them to stand up against.

But help and hope arrives and things get a bit less lopsided when Superman shows up! Unfortunately it’s season 1 superman, and something a lot of fans noticed but I as a kid didn’t and the crew themslves did not until it was too late to course correct for the season, was that Superman came off as a bit of a wimp in this series. See they had the good intention of having him struck down to show a threat’s serious, something TV Tropes calls the “The Worf effect” after the fact that Worf on Star Trek TNG would get knocked on his ass a lot for the same reason, but it has the side effect of making a character look like their made of paper mache if done too often. To the crew’s credit they realized this and not only made sure this didn’t happen as much in season 2, but dedicated the first episode of Season 2, twilight, to showing Superman as a badass by having him try and cave Darkseid’s skull in. Granted they overcompensated in places in that episode, but that’s a story for another day. Point is he had a habit of getting knocked around and it varied between really effective and overselling it. Here it works as the manhunters had already knocked Jonn around a bit, knocking him into some poor kid’s apartment whose really wondering what the fuck just happened too much to enjoy meeting the martian manhunter, so him not being too on top of them simply sells this threat is equal, and possibly past the League.

Meanwhile John is talking to his former teacher who says the kid reminds him of John... it’s not only a nice bit of depth to show the restrained John used to be a bit of a hellraiser before the Marines.. but also shows John’s guilt as he hopes not.. but before he can unload, he notices the fight and suits up to his old mentors shock and the kids joy, I mean I would too if a guy suddenly because a green lantern in front of me, and dashes off.. to surrender and break up the fight, handing over his ring and going with them and telling the League not to interfere. Their response can be summed up thusly.

To John, he’s peacefully surrendering for a crime he comitted to a bruitsh and unfair police force but one who is duly deputized and as an officer himself, for the unaware the Green Lanterns are space cops and given the reason rightfuly reconing on the police I will certainly be discussing this as we go, is trying to coparate and prevent any collateral. While LIKELY Bruce pays for any that happens, as beneath his batdick demanour at times he’s a very good man and if he has the pockets for a space station, space craft, commuincators and all the good stuff a superhero team has on hand, he probably has a dedicated fund set up to paying for collateral since insurance might not cover it, and not only that would likely give any impacted extra to do any upgrades they coudln’t before because he’s a philanorphist .. one who dresses up like a bat to punch people in the face, but that itself is still philathophy in a way.

But to the League? Their friend was taken by a bunch of shady paramilitary robots who didn’t bother talking to them, is trying to keep them out of it and for all they know only surrendered to prevent a fight, and even if he had valid reasons, as his friends-ish and teammates, they have a right to answers. So while John sits in his cell completlating his apparent crimes.. the JL have taken off in the Javelin, the spaceship I mentioned batman funding. And of course Batman has both spaceship money and had a design for one so ready it likely took a month at most for him to get it up and running, if not less, and only didn’t have one in the batcave because he hadn’t neededed it yet and likely didn’t want to embezle more money than he has to from his company. Jonn uses the stars John saw, say that three times fast I dare you, to find a location and our heroes head there. Our heroes arrive.. and are attacked by the local security despite Superman geninely trying to hail them, the Javelin not firing back and our heros only going out to intercpet personally so they don’t die, and even then making careful certainty not to attack. So we get another thrilling battle, with our three flying heroes all pitching in, and the flash realizing he dosen’t know how to fly the thing and me cursing out bruce in my head for you know, not either forcing flash to learn the stuff, or having the forsight to put a manual on board for any members who forgot something, aka so when Wally inteivibly goofs off and eats candy instead of reading it the first time, he can speed read it and at least retain it long enough to land the thing in a crisis. If it were anyone else i’d be understanding but this is the guy who again, either had spaceship plans lying around or could get one together in the span of a month or so and while not thinking of the ship in terms of a team, still also paid for and likely created the commuincators they used, so he’d know his team well enough to know he needs this.

My nitpicking aside, our heroes land, make quick work of the locals, and then crash in on John’s trial after he’s escorted in, passing his fellow lanterns who rightfully treat him with disdain.. but for the wrong reasons as we’ll see. John gives groaning “oh no” , like he’s embarassed. When REALLY..

Seriously John, again you were as far as they knew kidnapped, and the way the manhunters acted, they had no reason to think they were legitamate, and you didn’t take five minutes to tell them, “They have every reason to be takning me” or “I blew up a planet I deserve this” . They still would’ve came mind you, they just might of realized this wasn’t a traditional rescue mission and actually tried to use some subtly. You also COULD have told the manhunters they might show up so the security wouldn’t attack them. They probably woudln’t o LISTEND or attacked themselves, so i’ts a damned if you do damned if you don’t situation, but you still did absolutely nothing. It’s the one mistep with John here and even then it has the justification of his self loathing at the moment being so high, he assumed they’d rightfully write him off without question.. not to mention given the team is mostly white guys, two aliens and a princess who woudln’t know better, he probably assumed like most white dumbasses they’d assume the police were correct and not give him the benifit of a doubt. To their credit, especially since you know one of them’s superman and the other one’s a professional dumbass, they didn’t think that for a second. Some would not be such a good person.

But Prosecutor Forman and the big giant heads aren’t much better than the manhunters, so Prosecutor Forman sends some orange guys to put foots up their asses.. and since unlike the manhunters their just... some ambigiously gendered aliens with no powers, they go down quick and before the manhunters enter, superman RIGHTFULLY calls them out, as he points out they just wanted to know what the hell was going on, didn’t throw the first punch, and have been under attack since, and the heads admit this IS a public trial, and they kinda overreacted so as long as the superfriends don’t do any other antics and watch like anyone else, their good. Superman has his team play it safe for now as they really don’t know what’s going on and given they could only stalemate the manhunters on even footing, they know they can’t take them on their home turf.

The trial is soon underway, and Prosecutor Forman calls the witnsees.. Kanjar Ro, also voiced by Smith. This is neat little bit as Ro was one of the first foes the League fought in the comics, a space pirate, and while he originally was just going to be some random asshole, someone brought up the idea of him being Ro and the crew really loved it. It’s a nice nod to the comics and honestly if you have a vast superhero universe with decades of continuity to draw from for your show, why NOT make the secondary villian of the episode be someone from the comics.

Ro is, like the comics, a pirate and seemingly came forward because what John did was so bad even he can’t stomach it and has to say something. So we FINALLY find out what John did.. well okay the audience as a whole does I remember this from being a kid. He and Ro had a routine cop and robber interaction, Ro was smuggling shit, and John was doing his job as GL of Sector 2814 and stopping him and cut out his engine.. but seemingly said engine drifted off, and destroyed a planet as result via chain reaction, and thus the debris right outside the planet John’s being tried on are apparently thsoe of the planet he accidently killed. The court takes a break and while the League, understandably, assume that the obviously shady man was lying John ends part one by confirming that no he did it. And this is why I put a pin in things... because the episode being about a space cop being arrested by worse space cops and dealing with his friends in the badge turning on him while some of his other friends try to prove he’s innocent, and the man in question being an african american... tackles some very loaded issues that, givent he writer and most of the staff, Dwayne McDuffie accepted, were very much white, i’m thinking they just kind of fell backward into and it only came out as good as it did either do to McDuffie or just blind luck that it didn’t turn out entirely awful in hindsight.

And if anyone is complaning: “Wait you dont’ need to get political leave politics out of this”.. please leave my fucking blog. For one, the recknoing with the police was long overdue, I feel ashamed for not having it sink in how fundementally broken the police were and not realizing it for my whole fucking life, I knew some cops were bad but I hadn’t realized the institution was inherently racist and bad and feel so much deep and lasting shame for that, and for another again it’s a story that at it’s core is a black police officer being arrested for doing something wrong, taking full responsiblity for his actions like a police officer SHOULD, and having friends of his try and prove he didn’t really do it, while his fellow officers, rather than find the act itself abohhrent, come out as either being loyal to john no matter what (kilowog) because fellow officer, or assholes who ONLY are upset because it makes them look bad, and are ONLY distancing themselves because of that, and not because you know JOHN MAY OF CAUSED A GENOCIDE BY INCOMPETNECE. So yeah, i’m not ignoring the real world implications, I couldn’t and wouldn’t if I wanted to, and i feel if done right ANY medium, animation, comics, what have you, for kids or not, can tackle such issues and should be able to.

So i’m not ignoring the elephant in the room, and as we get into part 2 we get the good and bad of this in full: Superman feels something’s off about this whole thing, a hunch admitely but given an engine falling in a crater seems a bit too convinent, he has a right to investigate and takes MM to do so, while he leaves Flash and Hakwgirl to stall. Both take diffrent approaches: Flash signs on as GL’s lawyer.. and it’s an awesome scene as we find out, in your standard evil lawyer joke, that the tribunal of faces solved this by simply having the lawyer share the punishment.. but it also shows Flash’s loyalty and faith that his friend did not do this and something worse is at work, as he still agrees after learning he’ll probably die if his other friends don’t fix this.

And now we have full context i can get into where this episode really does the issue justice for the most part: John is presented as the model of both what the GL Corps and what police should be: He’s professional, uses minimal force despite having a weapon that can do anything, and when he THINKS he did something horrible, he dosen’t run from his crime: the most he does is go back home to see it once last time, simply waiting for someone to come and get him for what it did wether it be his own brothers in arms or as we saw the manhunters and he doesn’t defend himself because he dosen’t feel he should as he screwed up, got an entire planet killed, and rightly thinks he should pay for it. He’s likely, as a black man in the early 2000′s, been falsely accused, pulueld over and fucked over by police and seen people in his community he knewe and care about die because of shit like this so when given the chance to take responsibility, even from a clearly broken system, he does. Because in the same situation a lot of officers back at home would not and would walk away clean and that’s not who John Stewart is, how he was raised, or what he or the corps stands for.

But the episode gets to have it’s cake and eat it too, as the League does belivie John didn’t do this on purpose.. and the blind faith they especially superman did come off as wince inducing.. until I realized it’s not because of some “brotherhood of the badge” bullshit.. but because it’s Superman. He belivies in the good of most people. In this very series despite Lex Luthor having tried to kill him dozens of times at this point, he STILL shows the guy empathy when he finds out Lex is dying of cancer. Lex spits at the notion of course and dosen’t take it seroiusly.. but Superman is just that good a person, so if he has a hunch somethings’ wrong.. it probably is. And even if he and Jonn found nothing... it’s the right thing to do. A crime should ALWAYS be properly investigated to make sure someone dosen’t hang for something they did not do. This is what I meant by have it’s cake and eat it too: the episode tackles police brutality.. but the accused is also the victim, and it thus tackles the unfairness in the us courts, how black people are often assumed guilty when that’s horribly racist and biased as fuck and how Police are assumed correct. Our heroes are assuming john is right based on optisim but are not wrong for wanting him to at LEAST get a fair trial and full investigation that clearly was not done. It also covers, again probably intetioanlly, how some are often not able to get proper representatin, with this court outright getting rid of it, which is wrong and bad, and the flash being the best John can do and not very good at it, mostly stalling for time. It shows the system’s brokena nd soemtimes you have to directly fight iht and can’t just take it , and even if your convinced your guilty and want to rightfuly take the blame for something your sure you did... you still deserve a fair trial and a compitent one.

It’s not all good: as said the gl’s are portrayed as bad for not wanting anything to do with john, and in order to make them unsympathetic they care more about their rep than the fact a friend may of comited genocide and kilowog showing up and providing character witness is seen as a good thing, even if he provides no actual character evidence other than “Johnny’s a good guy” and that’s not ideal. It’s not perfect and again it was writtne by an old white guy so of course it isn’t but the fact it gets so much right the more you dig in despitei t’s awwkardness and being written and aired 20 years ago... that is nothing to sneeze at.

We have more to dig into here too with the manhunters but first moreof the plot: While the other stuff mentioned happens, Superman and Jonn investigate as said.. and we find out WHY superman was supscious: while it was part hunch.. he did in fact have valid reason to suspect something was off, and as we saw actually heard the case against his friend first, and only went against it because the evidence was off.. in that the MOON of the planet is still there and should’ve flown off. He and Jonn soon find a MASSIVE device that John identifies as a bigger version of a toy he had as a kid, something that created images... and again shows whya PROPER investigation was needed. Had the court actually looked into it instead of presuming John guilty, they would’ve found this thing too. Naturally though Kanjar Ro has followed them and wants to kill them.. but with her subplot wrapped up Hawkgirl went to seei f they needed backup, stealing one of the guard ships which given they attacked people on ap lanet iwth a PUBLIC TRIAL going on without haling them yeah don’t blame her, and kicks his ass. Our heroes find out the truth as I mentioned earlier: Ro was paid to lie and be in on things for an assload of money.. byt he Manhutners.. who at the moment are plotting to strike while Oa, the home of the green lanterns is weak, as the Guardians who created them and monitor them mostly left to go to the trial.

As we catch up with them, THe guardians speak on each lantern being trusted with the ring and given little oversight.. because they pick wisely. The prosecutor just wants John to hang, calls for a sentence, which is death and John and Flash nearly die, in case you thought I was pulling those parallels out of my ass. But Superman rushes in, and in a small, subtle gag he and Jonn do so thorugh a small pain of glass put over where they enterted last time, fight off security and save them, and before prosecutor foot in the ass can harumph about it more.. Superman claims jonn’s innocent..a nd has Shiera smash the generator, showing he indeed is, getting John aquitted. John also attacks Ro, who they brought along as a witness, rightfully so, but the League get him to stop as they don’t have time for that: the Guardians are strangely leaving after that, the manhunters are clearly doing something given their asbent, so John retakes his ring, restored to who he was now knowing he truly WAS innocent and was simply set up.. and he wants to find out why.

We soon get the why as the Guardians explain the manhunters after the League won’t let them just.. brush by after they aburbtly tried to leave. They AREN’T behind the current attack.. but did create them, feeling robots would be better policeman. They were wrong, with the manhunters lacking empathy, being far too military in their job, and generally not being up for it so they simply gave them smaller jobs as bounty hunters, court balifs that sort of thing ans assumed they were fine because they didn’t say anything. As John puts it perfectly “Not outloud. “ And this itself is the other thing that makes the episode work as an allegory, if a very unteitonal one: The Manhunters are the police as they are now, violent brutes with way too much power, no restraint in using it and no ounce of mercy or sympathy for those they protect. And the Guardians rightfully removed this system, and replaced it with the corps. And while the Corps STILL have a lot of leway and power, being free to investigate on their own provided OA dosen’t call them to do someting specific, and given a ring that can do anything within corps guidelines, which basically means “don’t kill” and “don’t be a dick with it”, the guardians still watch them, do not interfere in trials and choose very wisely. not only that ther’es only one officer per sector, each sector being galaxies wide.. but that’s because that’s only what’s NEEDED. One Lantern with the power to take on entire fleets if needed, which is a fair amount of power given the scope of the job, and come in as requested by the people themselves, honestly isn’t a bad system. Granted the corps is wonky from time to time in the comics as are the guaridans depending on the writer, but at it’s core the corps really sounds like a more responsible versoin of the police: given just the gear necessary, the men necessary, and only called in when truly needed or if they spot a crime in process. THat’s what the people protecting us should be like and that’s why this episode still works.

Obviously though I was aware of none of this as a kid, and the real reason I loved this episode is this climax. The League arrives on Oa just in time to provide backup. Presumibly the guardians there and incoming with the league simply dont have the power to spare to call for reinforcments. Which is weird but fair enough drama wise and our heroes storm the planet , with the corpsmen from before all showing up to pitch in. But John gets there too late as the head manhunter drains the central power battery, the source of the lantern’s powers, and declares I AM THE POWER, refusing to accept he’s out of date.

And this, folks is the moment that made me love the lanterns for life. John is outgunned, the wise old wrinkled blue men who gave him his powers drained of there, starring down a massive monster planning to subjigate the universe... and he does not blink. See lanterns are picked for their willpower, their abliity to stare down things like this, and fight anyway, their very rings controlled by this, by their own force of personhood. It’s another reason besides logistics why theires only one per sector: it’s that hard to find one. Earth is so remarkable because , even if it’s simply so we could have more stars in the books over time in real world, we produced not ONE person capable of this.. but 7.. Alan Scott whose not in the corps but whose powers stll work on will and could probably use a regular corps ring very much included. John was chosen because he simply won’t give up. He gave up before.. but it was the right thing to do and ultimately biding his timea nd accepting his trial.. gave his friends time to aquit him and prove he was framed.

But now is not the time to back down.. now’s the time to stand.. so how does John win? By USING his will, by using the reason he was chosen coupled with ihs own personal dedication and concentration, he grabs his ring as it floats toward the guy, takes it back.. and starts reciting the lantern oath. And since the Manhunter is indeed “The power”.. it means he too can be controlled like any lantern energy. and thus with every bit of willpower he has, struggling all the while but not moving a damn inch, John recites his oath and shoves the monster that framed him, and the power he stole, back into the battery, all while saying an oath so badass it has been etched into my head since thanks to this episode. Say it with me now..

In Brightest Day, In Blackest Night No Evil Shall Escape My Sight Let Those Who Worship Evil’s Might BEWARE MY POWER, GREEN LANTERN’S LIGHT!

And the credit goes to phil lamarr, who delivers the oath with all the gravitas and awesomeness it’s first delivery in this continuty it deserves. It was this that made me a lifelong fan: one man with the power of anytihng using PURE MENTAL STRENGTH AND DETERMiINATION TO SHOVE AN EVIL ENERGY BEING IN A GIANT LANTERN WHILE RECITING A BADASS AND AWE INSPIRING OATH. And if that dosen’t sell you on the Green Lantern’s being awesome I can’t help you and don’t know why your here.

So wrapup time: The Guardians genuinely thank john, saying they choose well, and John brushes off his fellows corpspersons as they should’ve belivied him and thanks the League for having faith in him even when he didn’t. And while the former part has some.. bad implications we’ve gotten into already, I also can’t entirely blame him given they did it not because he might’ve killed someone but again, because

Precisley. So our heroes prepare to head home, cue the credits.

Final Thoughts:

So how does this episode hold up 20 years later? As should be obvious, damn well. It’s a good introduction for the corps, if showing them to be kinda assholes in places, and a good spotlight episdoe for John showing who he is what he stands for and again how TRULY MONUMENTALLY BADASS the man is. And lest you think the comics versoin is any LESS badass, he once got into a sniper duel in with Bedovian, a member of the Sinestro Corps and a crab person.. who was as I forgot till looking it up, THREE SECTORS, which i’ll remind you can comprise entire galaxies, away, with a ring made sniper rifle. In one shot no less. Point is even with some.. wonkier aspects, and ones that aren’t intetnional, it still works and is a shockingly relevant episode 19 years later and the fight scenes, as are standard for the series, are overwhelmingly awesome. Check this one out, and the series as a whole. With its great animation, character work and general badassery this one’s worth a few watches. And obviously given my love of this seires, and it’s 20th anniversay next year, and my love of John, check back here for more John-centric episodes throughout the year as we celebrate the guy. And I will also celebrate the green lantern NAMED guy eventually too, and jessica.. and all of them ebcause I love them all. Yes.. even Hal. As for which John episode i’m doing next? Easy, one that intorduces me to a character I love who dosen’t get used near enough, Metamorphisis. The when I can’t say QUITE yet as my March schedule is full and most of my ongoing projects are on the backburner so I can tackle two arcs of ducktales, which coincidentally happened to be in time for the finale. That wasn’t planned AT ALL mind you, it just ended up working out really well that way. For now though tommorow I begin my coverage of the final 4 episodes of ducktales with “Beaks in the Shell” and later this week finish up black history month with blacksad, continue my Lena retrospective with a money shark and some pr work, cover the second season of close enough, celebrate Tex Avery’s birthday and also celebrate the new Tom and Jerry movie.. with the OLD tom and jerry movie. Until then, see you next rainbow.

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teamhappyme · 4 years ago

Text

a series of promising events (2/5)

aaron hotchner x female!reader

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

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

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

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

link to part 1: here

****

May 2008

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Detective.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ve asked JJ to marry me,”

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

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

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

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

“JJ, you could have told me.”

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

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

“Night Spencer.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Goodnight. Get some sleep.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Because it’s part of my suit.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hotch,”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

January 2010

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That was two weeks ago.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So that’s why you brought me along.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Isn’t that, uh,-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“This is Agent-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nothing’s wrong, Karl.”

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

“We cannot show him these.”

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

“These are not just images.”

“That’s exactly what they are.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What, no Agent Hotchner?”

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

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

And of course it did. “Yes.”

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

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

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

You narrowed your eyes. “Why?”

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

“What did you do to them?”

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

“And what is that?”

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

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

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

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

“I already told you why.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t ask me to do that ever again.”

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

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

Not before he spoke first though.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Figure out the man you want to be.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

God, could he read you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What are you doing?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” You smiled and shook your head.

“I’m just remembering the first time I met her. She was pregnant, she called you a robot, and was cracking jokes left and right to try and get you to crack.”

That got him to smile. “I could always make her laugh when we were younger. She had the funniest, most embarrassing laugh. But it was Haley. And it was addicting.”

You wanted him to remember her like this, with a smile on her face and the loving soul she was.

“I truly am sorry for what I said to you, but you have to know I didn’t mean it.”

You nodded. “I know you didn’t. Just apologize to Garcia in the morning, and get home to Jack. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He gave you a small smile as you picked up your backpack.

Spencer’s words stung in your ears while you were holding Hotch’s hands. You loved everyone on this team as your family. And Hotch needed you to be there for him a lot more over the last two months. Sure, you’d brushed off some harsh conversations with him considering the circumstances, but you knew when it went too far, like today.

“Y/n,” His voice pulled you from your thoughts, stopping you at the door. “Thank you.”

You nodded. “Of course.”

Maybe you did care too much for people. But if it helped them get back to normal, you’ll continue wearing those rose colored glasses a little while longer.

***

March 2010

“I’m grocery shopping. Because I have no food in my apartment and I never thought I’d say this, but I’m sick of eating pizza.” You threw a box of cheerios in your cart, careful not to hit the eggs on their way in.

“That’s how you’re spending your saturday? Our first saturday off in a month?”

“Well, unless I want to spend another twenty bucks on one meal, I’ve gotta do my grown up chores.” “You need to get your butt back home so we can go out and drink.”

Emily was relentless, to say the least. Every single weekend you had off, her number popped up on your phone the minute you got home. She hated resting in her own solitude, and tried to drag you along for any activity she could think of. Shopping, drinking, walking around the national mall, and, in desperate cases, running. But her record wasn’t stellar in getting you to attend.

“I’m spending the afternoon with my couch, a book that has taken me too long to read, and probably eat an entire bag of smartfood.” You chucked a box of granola bars in your cart too when you heard a kid cry. You turned to the end of the aisle, but the parent was blocking the child. “Besides, it’s dinner tonight at Hotch’s.”

“He canceled this morning. Rossi was supposed to call and let you know.” You rolled your eyes. Of course Dave forgot.

“Daddy! I want the poptarts!” You heard the kid yell out again. But you knew that voice, and you couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face.

“Em, I’ll see you on Monday. Have a shot for me.”

“I’ll have two.”

You laughed as you hung up the phone, pushing the cart over to your favorite little boy on the planet. You didn’t think to give the father another glance when you didn’t recognize him, but that’s because Aaron Hotchner is never without a suit at the office. He was dressed in jeans now and a quarter zip, looking like a normal dad.

When you approached the two boys, Jack was leaning against the shelf, tears streaming down his cheeks as he kicked his feet against the ground.

“It looks like SSA Hotchner could use some help profiling his son.”

Hotch was quick to stand up, meeting your eye. You only smiled while crouching down to Jack’s level.

“Hey little man, what’s the problem here?” He wiped the tears from his cheeks, and your heart broke at the redness in his eyes.

“Daddy won’t let me get any pop tarts.”

“That’s because you ate the whole box in one day without my permission.” Aaron argued back.

You hid your laugh in your shoulder, not wanting to upset Jack any more. But Hotch had already caused him to spiral into a meltdown again.

“Jack, have you ever had ants on a log?” He shook his head, tears continuing down his chubby cheeks. “Well, they were my favorite snack when I was little. It’s celery, peanut butter, and raisins all set up on a plate. And the best part is, you get to make it yourself! Now, I know how much you love peanut butter, and I bet if you ate this snack, Daddy will let you get poptarts the next time you go grocery shopping.”

“Okay.” He said and nodded his little head. “But I’m sick of grocery shopping.”

“Me too buddy.” I sat down next to him. “I do not like having to walk up and down these aisles searching for food. So, why don’t we sit here while daddy finishes his list?”

You spared a glance at Hotch and his practically full basket. You knew he would be done in ten minutes if you stayed here with Jack.

“Are you sure?” Aaron asked and you nodded.

“‘Course. I don’t need food that bad anyway.” He sighed and made his way back to his carriage.

You pulled a piece of paper and a pen out of your purse and handed it to Jack.

“Aunt Jessica told me that you know how to write your name now. Can you show me?”

He sat up straight, laying the paper down on the floor. You watched as he made a loopy uppercase J, followed with big and small letters to spell out the rest of his name.

“That’s awesome buddy. What about your last name?”

“Hotchner!” He yelled out and you laughed.

“Yeah, let me spell it out for you.” You wrote it out on the paper and it took him a few minutes to copy down.

“You’re turn now, y/n.” He handed you the pen and you wrote your name down, saying the letters as you wrote them. Jack repeated you, and it made you laugh. You forgot that kids were such sponges.

By the time you finished writing Aaron and Haley’s names for Jack, Hotch was back with his cart. “Alright buddy, it’s time for us to go. We gotta let y/n finish her grocery shopping.”

“No! I want y/n to come home with us for dinner. She was helping me spell everyone's names!”

You smiled as you stood up, giving Jack a hand. “Maybe next time buddy. But you gotta get home to try those ants on a log.”

“Actually, we’re making pizzas for dinner, Jack’s saturday choice. You can come over, if you don’t have any plans already.” You’d never heard Hotch this nervous before. It made you laugh a little.

“I’d love to. Only if I get to put extra cheese on my pizza though.”

“Of course!” Jack exclaimed and you matched his smile.

“Awesome! I’ll let you two pay for all this food and I’ll meet you at your house okay?” Jack nodded before running to the front of the cart.

“You sure you don’t have any plans? I don’t want you to give up another saturday night at my expense,”

“Hotch there is nothing more exciting than spending my weekends with the cutest four year old on the planet.” He smiled, but you knew he still wasn’t convinced. “Besides, every other twenty-nine year old I know is in a stuffy club in uncomfortable clothes. This is much more my pace.”

He nodded, a small smile on his face. “Okay. We’ll meet you at the apartment in a half an hour.”

“Sounds good. See you soon Jack!” You waved to the little boy and quickly tried to finish buying the staples that could get you through a few days at home.

You got home and quickly put your food away, making sure everything that needed to be refrigerated was chilled. You switched your t-shirt for a long sleeve tee, opting for sneakers instead of boots. Comfort was the utmost importance on days off.

It took you twenty minutes to get to Hotch’s apartment from yours, arriving at five on the dot. You were known for, and proud of your punctuality. Hotch answered the door after two knocks, and you couldn’t help but focus on the noise of three different locks unlocking.

He greeted you with a slight nod of the head, button down replacing his quarter zip.

“Do you even own comfortable clothes?” “This is comfortable.” You rolled your eyes, as he took the poptarts from your hands, raising his eyebrow at you.

“Didn’t I just have this fight with my four year old son about not buying these?” He asked as he let you in the house.

“Yes, but I’m the fun dinner guest. I bring the treats for the children.”

He tried to hide the small huff of a laugh that escaped his lips, but you still caught it. “You will be the death of me.”

You let out a laugh as he led you into the kitchen, putting them away on the top cabinet. I reached for my hip and pulled my holster off, putting it on the counter.

“Do you have somewhere I can put this? Last thing I need is to drop it while I throw up my pizza dough.” He unlocked the drawer in his desk, placing it in there before locking it back up.

You heard tiny footsteps running down the hall. “Y/n! It’s pizza time!”

You smiled as he tugged at your legs. “I know! I’m so excited!”

“Alright buddy, you’re up first. Show y/n how we properly throw our pizza dough in the air.” Hotch pushed a step stool over to the counter, waiting for Jack to step up. The grin on the little boy's face was ginormous as he powdered his hands with flour, taking the small ball of dough Hotch separated for him.

The two of you were on either side of Jack, each ready to follow his lead in the process. “Ok, on the count of three. One, two, three!”

You spun the dough in your hands before throwing it in the air, watching it separate the slightest bit. Jack’s giggles filled the apartment as he let his dough fall onto the counter. Aaron shook his head, you could tell this part of the meal was always a struggle for the little boy.

You watched as Jack spread out the miniscule amount of sauce he wanted along his crust, topping it off with a mountain of cheese. You taught him the more cheese, the better, and he clearly still believed you. You added some pepperoni to your own oval shaped pie, unsuccessful in making a perfect circle crust. But, not everyone could be the perfect Italian chef like David Rossi.

While the pizza’s were in the oven, the three of you sat down to play a few rounds of Candyland. You hadn’t played since your time at DCFS, and you forgot how there was no real objective to the game. It certainly wasn’t your game of choice, but Jack was still a little young to be able to contend with you in a game of monopoly. A few more years, you thought.

Once the pizza’s were done, Jack helped you set the table as Hotch cut the pies. You felt a little out of place, crossing some very important boundaries by having dinner with just the two Hotchner boys. This saturday was much different than the ones you spent when the whole team was over, Henry and Jack putting on dance parties for the guests.

You started to become more aware of your actions around the apartment; how you knew where the placemats were kept, that Jack used his purple cup for milk at dinner, and the strict no electronics rule at the table. However, that had been established by Haley years ago. The thought of her had a shot of guilt running through your stomach, sitting down with her family for dinner, just three and a half months after she’d passed.

You’d been thinking a lot about what Spencer had said that night at the BAU. He was vague, too vague for the doctor that could tell you how long he’d been alive down to the second. After a few sleepless nights, you called the doctor in question and demanded he explain himself. But after his admission, you quickly regretted having all the information.

Spencer Reid has known you for almost five years now, and has seen you through the moments that have shaped your adult life. Killing Stephanie Moore, testifying in the fisher king case, being your excusing phone call from multiple dates, and holding your hand as you took in one of your former foster siblings from a bad relationship. There was absolutely nothing in your life that could be hidden from him.

So when he told you he noticed your feelings for Hotch ‘about two years ago’, you nearly stopped dead in your pacing tracks. Not because you didn’t know your own feelings for the man, but because you didn’t realize it had been that long. That he had been married to Haley, albeit only for a month longer, that you started to notice how handsome your boss was. Upon hearing the truth out loud, and from another person, you ran to the bathroom and threw up a few times.

You were so embarrassed, so ashamed of caring for someone that couldn’t be yours. For caring for someone who’s wife you truly adored. After the third round of puking, Spencer reassured you through the phone that it wasn’t your fault. We can’t control who we love. And yes, he said love.

“Are you okay y/n?” Jack’s little voice pulled you from your thoughts. You smiled at his sauce covered face and nodded.

“Yeah, I’m fine. How’s your pizza, Jack?”

“Awesome! Daddy is the best pizza cooker ever!”

“You sure you’re okay? You look a little pale,” Aaron commented and referenced your plate. You hadn’t taken a bite.

“I’m good, really. Just thinking about how I’m going to make a bigger lego tower than Jack after dinner.”

That got the little boy to laugh, successfully switching the conversation to Jack’s favorite toys. But you noticed the glaces Hotch snuck your way, not believing you for a second. You were an awful liar.

The longer the three of you sat at the table, the larger your smile grew around these boys. Seeing Hotch being able to relax and really enjoy his time with Jack always brought a smile to your face. He was a natural father, sliding into the role of playmate and swaddler, cuddler and soother. You even remember him helping JJ out with Henry’s swaddle at work one day.

But you knew he felt guilty, not being able to be present in his son’s life everyday. You saw it in the hundred’s of views of the video of Jack’s first steps, the late night phone calls while away on a case just to say goodnight to his little boy. He missed out on a lot of the baby years, and he would be making it up to Jack for the rest of his life, with nights like these. With the whole weekend devoted to Jack Hotchner’s favorite things, minus the sugary pop tarts. Hotch had mastered the duality of being a Supervisory Special Agent for the FBI, and the loving father to Jack Hotchner. It was one of the reasons why you started caring so much for him.

“Alright Jack, you can build one tower with y/n, then it’s bath time and off to bed.” You saw the pout on Jack’s face as Hotch cleared our plates, and you helped him off the chair.

“Come on, maybe if we’re quick enough we can make two.”

He giggled as he led you to his room, stuffed animals and toys galore. This boy won’t want for a thing.

“Okay, you make a big blue one, I’ll do purple.”

You finished much quicker than the four year old, but under no circumstances would he let you sit and watch him make his masterpiece. Instead, since you had nearly two and a half feet on him, you stacked your tower on top of his and continued adding pieces to make it bigger. He cheered you on as it started to reach your head, and you were getting excited yourself. Until, it came to a crashing fall with the last green piece on top.

“Noo!” Jack yelled out, trying to catch the falling pieces.

“It’s okay Buddy, you can always make another one.” Aaron’s voice trying to soothe his son caught both you and the little guy’s attention.

The two of you turned to see Hotch leaning in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest. You wondered how long he’d been standing there.

“And maybe next time, we can make one as big as daddy.”

Hotch let out a laugh as Jack smiled at you in amazement. He liked how your brain worked.

“Bath time, bud. We gotta get your face cleaned up from all that pizza sauce, and ship you off to bed.”

“But y/n’s here,” He whined, not wanting the lego fun to end.

“Well I have to get home and take a shower too, bud. Don’t worry, there’s plenty more playdates in your future.” You said and stood up, giving the little boy a high five.

“Go wait for me in the bathroom okay, I’m gonna walk y/n out.”

“Okay. Bye bobo.” He said and ran off to the bathroom, leaving you speechless in his bedroom.

“You let him be around Derek Morgan way too much.”

“Probably. But you can’t compete with the guy who brings over a new lego set every weekend.” Hotch got your gun for you, walking you back to the front door.

“Are you kidding? You’re his hero, Hotch. He asked me last week if I was a superhero like daddy.” He cracked a smile, but his eyes were glued to the floor, unable to meet your own.

“Why did you cancel dinner tonight?” He sighed and lifted his head. You’d been wanting to ask him since you were at the grocery store. The team had been coming over for three months now, and it was something we all started to look forward to.

“I was sick of feeling like a burden to you all. I mean, asking you all to give up your Saturday nights, sometimes our only free night of the week to spend in my depressing apartment, it had been enough.” If only you could show this man how much the team cared for him through your eyes, he would never doubt his worth another day in his life.

“Hotch, the highlight of my week is coming here to be with you all. My family. Watching Henry and Jack play with each other, listening to Spencer and Penelope fight over who the true godparent is, and getting to be on the receiving end of Rossi’s awesome cooking?”

He nodded, mumbling an ‘I know’ a few times under his breath. But he needed to know that as much as you all come here for Jack, you guys care for Aaron and his well being just as much.

“I come here every saturday to make sure that Aaron Hotchner has not dressed in a suit for the sixth day in a row, and to make sure he knows that he’s doing such an amazing job with Jack. That he is being the best father, friend, and boss, that he can be.”

This time, his eyes were locked on yours as you got a real Aaron Hotchner smile out of him, dimples and all. You couldn’t help but make a check mark in the air, the team tally still going strong. He playfully rolled his eyes as you swung your bag across your shoulder.

“So who’s in the lead now?”

“Me, for the last six months. I can’t be dethroned.” You felt your cheeks grow warm, hoping he wouldn’t think too much into your stat keeping.

“Well, that seems like a pretty accurate tally.”

You made sure it was. And selfishly, you hoped no one else could get that beautiful smile to cross his face like you could.

“Thank you for coming over. We both had a lot of fun.”

“I did too. I’m around anytime, my tower building skills are not occupied for many other people.” He let out a laugh as he opened the door for you.

“Goodnight y/n. Let me know when you get home.”

“I will. Night, Hotch.”

You got home in twenty minutes, texting Aaron as you walked through your door. Quickly changing into pajamas and throwing Legally Blonde into the DVD player, your phone dinged at a new message.

It was from Hotch, a picture attached to the message. It was of Jack, towel wrapped around his head, eyes shut from grinning so wide. ‘He wanted me to send this to you. He said, ‘this is how happy I am that y/n was here tonight.’ Thanks again for everything. Goodnight.”

You couldn’t help the tears that pooled in your eyes at the sweet little boy in the picture, and his amazing dad behind the camera.

****

tags: @simplyprentiss @michaelahah @ssahotchner99 @svrgicalhands @hotchtopic @unionjackpillow @philcoolson @tommhollandzxhaz @kathleenjasmine @canimarrypizzaornah @reaperwalking @inlovewithaaronhotchner @shelbymm11 @mrshotchner23 @tropicalwrites

#aaron hotchner x female! reader #aaron hotchner x female!reader #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #aaron hotchner

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shining-red-diamond · 4 years ago

Text

One Little Coyote

Words: 2k

Pairing: Hyunjin x Reader

Genre: Fluff, some angst

Rating: PG

Warnings: nightmare scene, some arguing, mentions of cigarettes and smoking

A/N; I’m super proud of how this turned out! I’m sorry if it seems rushed, but I thought this was a cute and interesting concept. Banner credits to @oobin

If the morning sun wasn’t hot enough, then the afternoon sun certainly was. Heat waves could easily be seen rising up from the dark pavement the gray Subaru traveled on. Hyunjin carefully drove himself and Y/N across the desert, even though it was mostly barren despite the occasional car that passed them in the opposite direction. The two had been on the road since eight, and it was now nearing twelve-thirty as Y/N’s stomach began to rumble.

“Are you that hungry?” Hyunjin giggled.

“Hey, you’re the one who insisted on just having granola bars instead of eggs like I suggested,” Y/N shot back.

“I know, I should’ve set the alarm for earlier.” Hyunjin rolled his eyes behind his round, dark-lense sunglasses.

Y/N sighed. “No, I should’ve just grabbed an apple.”

“Baby, we’re almost to a gas station. We’ll stop there and grab a bite to eat.”

For whatever reason, the two seemed to be arguing about something with every other conversation they had since waking up that morning. Was it because one of them slept bad? Did Hyunjin get irritated at her for some reason? Or was Y/N just hangry? They hated fighting with each other, but they couldn’t seem to get along for the first leg of their journey. The heat could be a factor in both of them butting heads, but the air was on full blast.

Y/N stared down at her twiddling her thumbs as the song changed to an old AC/DC tune, and Hyunjin glanced over at her. He felt bad for using a sharp tone at her. For months, the two had been planning a road trip from the Grand Canyon to Las Vegas; but he felt terrible for being in such a crabby mood.

Taking her hand, he laced his fingers through hers and kissed the back of it.

“Why the sudden change in behavior?” she asked with a raised brow.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized as they pulled into the gas station.

“Can we talk about this later? I just want to get some food before my stomach starts speaking in tongues.”

Before Hyunjin could respond, Y/N was already out of the car and beelined for the restaurant in the convenience store.

The gas station had only three other vehicles parked there: a motorcycle on the side of the building, a beat up brown truck at a pump, and a dark minivan at another. Heat from the sun was beating down in the surrounding area, but Hyunjin was protected under some shade at the gas pump he paid at. A snake slithered by, but it didn’t bother him. A rugged looking man exited the building and pulled a brand new pack of cigarettes and lit one up before entering the truck and pulling out, but not before giving Hyunjin a nod of acknowledgement.

When the tank was filled, Hyunjin took his receipt, parked in another spot, and locked the car before meeting his girlfriend inside. Y/N was sitting in a gray booth with an order of two burgers and large fries with two large drinks. She hadn’t touched any of the food on the tray, which she always did when she paid for food if she were traveling with anyone. Hyunjin was about to open his mouth to protest how he should have been the one to purchase the food, but he was done arguing with the love of his life.

“This looks delicious, baby,” he smiled and kissed her head before sitting in the seat across from her.

“I made sure to not get pickles in yours,” she replied.

“You know me too well.”

Once Hyunjin tied his long hair back, he and Y/N began their lunch; and she was thankful they didn’t fight while they filled their bellies with a meal.

“Just think,” Hyunjin smiled slyly, “by tomorrow afternoon we’ll be entering Vegas. The desert and heat will be a distant memory as we feast on delicious food, swim in an indoor pool, and get cozy.”

Y/N chuckled at his attempt at being smooth with his words, which in turn caused him to laugh as well.

“We can’t forget seeing all of the cool shows and counting the slot machines in each casino,” she added. “But I’m happy to just be with you for a few days, even if we don’t get to party like millionaires.”

Hyunjin scoffed. “Who needs wealth when I’m already a rich man just having the most beautiful woman in the world with me?”

“You’re cheesy, dude; but I like cheese.”

“I know,” her boyfriend replied with a wink.

As soon as they finished their meal, the two were back on the road, the surrounding desert brightened more by the afternoon sun. For about two hours, the two drive in mostly silence. The only noises around them were the radio, which would go static in some areas, and the wind outside. A few animals passed by in the sand and among the vegetation, but it was mostly snakes and rabbits.

“Babe,” Hyunjin said after a while, “about me apologizing earlier, I didn’t sleep well last night and woke up this morning in a bad mood. I hate fighting with you, and I was trying to make it up to you.”

He couldn’t exactly look at her as he was driving, but he could see out of the corner of his eye she was half smiling as he spoke.

“I’m sorry, too,” she lightly sighed. “I shouldn’t have snapped back at you. I didn’t know.”

“It’s not your fault. The bed at the motel was too uncomfortable.”

“Hopefully, the hotel bed is much better.”

“It’s Vegas! It has to be.”

A truce was formed during their own little comedy hour, and Hyunjin was happy he was able to make it all up with his girl. Like most couples, they had their arguments some days, but Hyunjin could never stay angry with Y/N, nor could she with him. The last thing either of them wanted to do was hurt the other person, and they both knew words were impactful. Only once had they insulted each other where it hurt the most that they wouldn’t speak to each other for a week until they both cooled off and talked it over.

“I wonder where the coyotes are,” Y/N spoke up as she looked out the window.

“They’re out there,” her boyfriend replied as he glanced around the sandy plains. “We won’t be going anywhere near them, but we’re approaching a bunch of rock formations and hills in a while.”

“Maybe we’ll hear them when we camp.”

“Maybe.”

“And that one little coyote howling at the moon,” Y/N sang with a giggle.

As if on cue, the radio song switched to the exact song. It was a genie wishing her song request.

“Fitting.”

The night air was too quiet for Y/N, except for the coyote’s howling at the full moon every couple of seconds. Moonlight illuminated the inside of the car, and she couldn’t fall back asleep anymore. The windows were still cracked open a little to allow air to circulate, but there was no wind blowing. Y/N hated how silent it was, and the coyote’s weren’t exactly singing lullabies to her. Sitting up, she looked over to where Hyunjin was, but he was gone. His blanket remained there, but the man himself had vanished.

Maybe he just had to go pee somewhere, she thought. However, the closest gas station was miles behind them. There was no way he would have walked that far just for a bathroom with a way to protect himself. The possibility of him just finding a small bush to do his business seemed logical, and since it was dark out, anyone who passed by probably wouldn’t see him.

Against her better judgement, Y/N decided to step out and see if her boyfriend was okay. Climbing over the seats, she reached one of the passenger doors and unlocked it. Once she stumbled out of the car, she shut the door and made her way to the back. The little fire pit used to cook their hot dogs was missing, and there was no sign that anyone had made a stop there. Nothing but dry mud and weeds. The air was also freezing, but Y/N didn’t want to go back to the car until her boyfriend was found.

“Hyunjin?” Y/N called in a whisper. No answer. She called for him across the other side of the main road, but still no reply.

“Babe, this isn’t funny!” she called as she turned around to see if he was messing with her.

To her horror, the Subaru was now gone. She didn’t hear the engine turn on, no tire tracks were left, nothing. It was as if it vanished into thin air. Turning back again, the road was gone too. What was going on?

Coyote howls grew louder, and Y/N was starting to panic. Small feet scampered by her, but not a humans’ footsteps. She pulled out her phone light and looked down. A row of jack rabbits were racing by her towards the rock formations, so she decided to follow them to try to find help. She took about six steps before a branch seemingly wrapped around her ankle and tripped her, cutting into the flesh.

“Don’t panic,” YN told herself. “It’s just a bush. You can get out of this.”

However, once she sat up, whatever was holding her had let go and disappeared. It left behind her ankle bleeding, but she had no means of treating it. She could still walk on it, so she kept going.

A few snakes, poisonous ones, slithered by, hissing at her as she walked. It was as if they were threatening her to turn back or else they’ll attack and sink their venomous fangs into her.

“As I rode my pony across the Western plain,” she sang sobbed, not realizing she had been crying. “We stopped and heard a sweet and sad refrain. It filled the sundown skies with a lonesome tune. It was one little coyote howling at the moon.”

RIght at that moment, howling broke the eerie silence from behind her. When Y/N turned around, two red glowing eyes were staring at her. It was a terrible, hungry look, and a deep throaty growl sent shivers down her back. Before she could even blink, teeth flashed in front of her as if the creature attempted to eat her face off.

Y/N screamed as she felt her life ending right there.

“Baby, wake up!” a familiar voice cried out.

Opening her eyes, Y/N realized she was back in the car but in a cold sweat. It was somewhat dark out, but the sky was just barely rising by the deep purple sky fading into pink.

“Jinnie!” Y/N sobbed as she pulled her boyfriend in for a hug.

“What happened?”

Once she caught her breath, she realized everything she had seen and experienced was all a nightmare.

“Bad dream?” Hyunjin guessed as dried her head with a blanket.

“Yeah,” she sighed. She explained everything in detail to him, even checking her ankle for the injury she had sustained. To her relief, there was no cut.

“I’m so sorry you had such an awful nightmare,” Hyunjin kissed her forehead. “I forget how you have bad nightmares one the first night of a camping trip.”

“I’ll be okay,” Y/N promised. “What time is it?”

Hyunjin looked through the suitcases for some fresh clothes. “6:30 in the morning. I was awake because I got too hot in here. It wasn’t long before you screamed awake.”

“I’m sorry if I scared you.”

“No, no. Don’t be sorry. It was only a dream.”

After tying his hair up to keep himself cool, Hyunjin brought Y/N closer to him and cuddled her for a while. Whenever she had a bad dream, it always comforted her to be held or snuggled until she calmed down. His heartbeat was the main composer of her calming, and she loved how warm he felt when he embraced her.

In the distance, a coyote howled.

“He won’t hurt you, my love,” Hyunjin reassured as he held Y/N tighter. “It’s just one little coyote.”

@hongism @ethereal-eirene @ezralia-writes

#kwritersworldnet #districtninewriters #kdiner #kdiarynet #kpopscape #kpopficsnetwork #newskynet #stray kids #skz #hwang hyunjin #skz hyunjin #skz x reader #skz fluff #skz angst

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sevenkittensinatrenchcoat · 4 years ago

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The Broadway Revival Doesn’t Get Comedy

Here’s another long essay hating on the Broadway Revival. I promise that this will be the last one of these, because I think I’ve summed up all the problems I have with it by this point.

The title of this essay isn’t universally true. There is good comedy in the Broadway Revival. But, most of it comes from the actors improvising. When it comes to the comic relief numbers of the show, the changes in choreography and staging, and even in plot in one case, generally fail to understand how the jokes in the numbers work.

Now, I know that explaining the joke makes it less funny, but in order to explain why the 2016 comedy doesn’t work, I’ll have to explain why older versions do. Why is the 1998 film funny, and why are bootlegs/pro-shots of earlier productions funny, in places where 2016 falls flat?

To begin with, you might be wondering, “in a show full of strange nonsense and little concrete plot, what would you call a comic relief number?”. There are plenty of numbers in the show that have a comedic tone to them that I don’t consider comic relief numbers. The Rum Tum Tugger is usually full of comedic bits, for example, but it’s not a comic relief number. Why? Because it does something other than be funny and lighten the mood. It’s a song all about a major character who’s just appeared. Apart form Chorus Tugger in the opening, who usually doesn’t stand out much, we haven’t seen Tugger yet. After the cats leave after The Naming of Cats, we don’t see him again until his own number, where he interrupts the party to tell us what he’s all about. Tugger, as a character, is introduced as high-energy and a troublemaker, which leads to comedy, so the song has comedic moments, but it’s not purely a comic relief number.

Most songs in Cats are like this. They’re songs about what makes a character tick, and because these characters are onstage for most of the show, it’s good to let the audience get to know them. But, there are a few numbers in the show that don’t introduce characters and don’t advance the plot. They’re just entertaining little skits that don’t fit anywhere else. These are the comic relief numbers.

In a full production of Cats, in which no songs are cut, there are three comic relief numbers: Bustopher Jones, The Pekes and the Pollicles, and Growltiger’s Last Stand. The first one might be confusing. Bustopher Jones introduces a character. Shouldn’t it count as one of the character songs like The Rum Tum Tugger? The difference is that, while Tugger sticks around and plays a role in other events of the show, Bustopher is only present for his number. He shows up, there’s a song, and then he leaves and is never seen again. This makes the number into something of a non-sequiter.

Gus the Theatre Cat also revolves around a character who’s really only there for his own song. In productions that cut Growltiger, this is all you see of him. But, Gus the Theatre Cat isn’t a comic relief number because it’s one of the few songs that doesn’t have a comedic tone. There are jokes here and there, and in most stage productions the character of Gus is more comedic than he is in the 1998 film, but the song has a softer tone, no dancing, and Gus eventually leaves in tears. Though the 1998 film stands out in this regard, even in other productions, this is not a comic relief number.

Another thing you’ll notice is that Bustopher Jones, The Pekes and the Pollicles, and Growltiger all come after more serious, less energetic numbers. Grizabella the Glamor Cat and Gus the Theatre Cat are both quite sad, and the play basically changes the subject to lighten the mood. Old Deuteronomy isn’t sad, but it’s slow and more serious. When the tone of the show starts to get serious, a comic relief number is added to lighten the mood. The pattern breaks with Macavity, with the song followed by a fight, to show that the stakes have been raised and things are getting serious. Mister Mistoffelees comes along as a more upbeat number, but the change in tone here is pretty much a plot point. Everything seems bleak and then Tugger starts this number to give everyone hope. Mistoffelees restores power after the light goes out as part of this shift. We were at our literal darkest moment and now there’s a spark of hope.

So, now that we know what numbers are comic relief numbers, it’s time to go into how and why they work, or how and why they don’t when things go wrong. Since the Broadway Revival cuts Growltiger, I’ll focus more on the other two, but the new version of The Pekes and the Pollicles borrows from Growltiger, so the stuff that was borrowed will also have to be discussed. But, before we get into all that messy business, let’s take a look at Bustopher Jones:

Bustopher Jones:

Most of the comedy in Bustopher Jones, though there are a few simple fat jokes in there, comes from how other characters react to Bustopher. Bustopher keeps an air of dignity about him as he formally greets everyone and discusses his clubs. He’s not the joke here. This is a song of Amusing Background Events. With the queens, you have Jenny’s crush on Bustopher and Bombalurina clearly not getting it but trying to be polite about it and not kinkshame Jenny over it. With the toms, you have the kittens getting over-excited and the older cats, desperate to impress Bustopher, rushing to stop them from making a scene, making a scene themselves in the process.

In particular, there are three characters to watch in this number who provide the best comedy: Mistoffelees, Skimbleshanks, and Munkustrap. Two out of the three of them, which two depends on the production, will go into fanboy mode, often competing for Bustopher’s attention. Broadway-based productions tend to have Misto and Skimble compete for Bustopher’s attention, while London-based productions, such as the 1998 film, tend to put more focus on Munkustrap. He barely contains his excitement and is shown to be Not So Above It All, though he’s usually more level-headed than whichever cat, Misto or Skimble, he’s being contrasted with.

Basically, the joke is that Bustopher is considered super-important, despite not having a clear place in the tribe’s hierarchy, and everyone goes nuts trying to impress him, get his attention, and make sure that everything is perfect and nothing goes wrong. This joke works best when Bustopher is actually pretty laid-back and everyone’s freaking out over nothing.

The 2016 version doesn’t get this. You do see characters scrambling around, trying to make sure everything’s perfect, and get Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer as far away from Bustopher as possible, but, at the moment when it’s the most important to get this right, it fails.

The biggest problem with the number is Bustopher’s solo. It’s performed well enough, like most of this production. That’s not the problem. There are two main problems: a staging problem and a writing problem. The staging problem is where the above explanation comes in: When Bustopher sings his solo, no one gathers near him. In other productions, a group of toms gather around Bustopher where they hang on his every word, try to get his attention, and try to look important in front of the others. There’s always one, Misto, Skimble, or, more rarely, Munkustrap, who tries to stand way too close. But, 2016 Bustopher is given plenty of room to just stand there and face the audience. No one seems to be paying that much attention to what he’s saying.

There’s also a problem with how the solo is edited and the break that follows it. The problem isn’t that Bustopher’s solo is shortened. Lots of productions do that. The problem is in what’s cut.

The full solo consists of four quatrains: sets of four lines. The second and fourth lines rhyme with each other, so each quatrain ends on a rhyme: rules and Schools, Blimp’s and shrimps, bones and Drones, Glutton and mutton.

The original Broadway run of the show, and many other productions copying it, the second and third quatrains are cut. You go from Joint Superior Schools to “If I’m seen in a hurry”. The 2016 version cuts the first and second quatrains, only including the second half of the solo. The problem with this is that it cuts the first quatrain.

Cutting directly to the third quatrain is musically awkward, because there’s no build-up to this point in the song that’s song loudly with a choir backing it up. But, when it comes to the joke that’s being told in the solo, cutting the first quatrain removes the set-up and changes what the joke is. With the first quatrain, the solo is about the various clubs Bustopher goes to. Starting at the third quatrain, the joke is mainly a list of foods that Bustopher likes, even though the clubs are mentioned.

The first quatrain is the only portion of the solo to not mention food at all. It’s all about the social etiquette of gentlemens clubs. A gentleman in the early 20th century wasn’t supposed to belong to more than one club. So, in order to go to eight or nine, as Bustopher does, one would have to make sure that the clubs didn’t meet too close together, so that someone from one club might see them at another. It’s part of his strategy in going from club to club: he imitates the etiquette of the humans on the surface, while actually breaking all the rules behind their backs.

But, the point is, Bustopher is listing the various clubs he’s managed to get food from. He’s sort of cheating them all, though I doubt they’d care that a cat was frequenting more than one club. Going to different clubs that are located far enough apart that people from club A are unlikely to walk past the meeting place of club B is quite a feat and it takes a lot of skill to pull off. Bustopher knows what clubs he can do this with and what food he can get from them. If he wants seafood, he goes to the Stage and Screen. If he wants curry, he can go to the Siamese or the Glutton. Foxes is too close to one of his other clubs for him to go there, but he can get fresh meat of the same quality at Blimp’s.

The first quatrain sets up and explains the joke. Without this set-up, the joke becomes one about gluttony, making it more of a fat joke than it is when the first quatrain is included. To make matters even worse, the 2016 choreography adds this instrumental break where the cats put together a restaurant for Bustopher and give him various foods, doubling down on the joke being purely about Bustopher’s gluttony, not how he messes with high society. It’s still a joke and people might still find it funny, but it’s not the same joke and comes very close to being “it’s funny cuz he fat”.

The entire point of the number is that Bustopher’s weight is part of why he’s celebrated. He’s fat because he’s clever, managing to trick a bunch of rich humans into giving him fancy food off of their own plates. Because he looks like he’s wearing a tuxedo and spats at all times, the gentlemen at the clubs see him as fitting in, even though he’s most likely a stray. If he had an owner who was feeding him, he wouldn’t have developed this whole routine for getting food. The people who probably wouldn’t give food to a homeless human, seeing it as “feeding strays”, will literally feed a stray just for looking like he belongs. It combines two things that cats tend to love: food and messing with stupid humans.

So, the lack of emphasis on how other characters react to Bustopher and the reason why they react that way weakens the joke. But, to give credit where credit is due, I do like how they double down on Bustopher being Tugger for older women but have Jellylorum seem to be just as into him as Jenny is.

The Pekes and the Pollicles:

Here’s where the Broadway Revival goes completely off the rails. Both The Pekes and the Pollicles and Growltiger are often cut from productions to save time. They’re both “play within a play” scenes, which can be a bit confusing in a show that rarely ever uses dialogue to introduce the numbers. The Pekes and the Pollicles in particular seems to come out of nowhere. “Yay! Old Deuteronomy is here! Now let’s make fun of dogs!”

So, the Broadway Revival, like every production, had to decide what to do with these numbers. Would it keep them? Cut one of them? Cut both of them? But, for some reason, they invented a new option: Combine the two.

2016 Pekes and Pollicles isn’t The Pekes and the Pollicles. It’s a combination of The Pekes and the Pollicles and Growltiger’s Last Stand. The song is moved to where Growltiger is normally done and parts of the melody are mixed in. The Rumpus Cat, as a character, is equated to Growltiger as a character Gus played back in the day. This is where the trouble starts.

Now, I’ll once again stop to give credit where credit is due: The 2016 opening to The Pekes and the Pollicles is really sweet, with Old Deuteronomy encouraging Gus to play the Rumpus Cat one more time. Growltiger is basically a dream sequence of Gus flashing back to when he played Growltiger. Getting to see him actually relive his glory days one last time is nice. If they used this opening for Growltiger instead of The Pekes and the Pollicles, it would’ve been a good addition to the number.

So, Growltiger and The Pekes and the Pollicles are both plays within a play. Why not combine them? Well, the main problem is that The Rumpus Cat is not Growltiger.

Now, a lot of people hate Growltiger’s Last Stand and I’m not going to act like it’s some kind of masterpiece. I personally find the number to be sort of middle-of-the-road. If you see it more than once, the shock value of the cringey Asian stereotypes starts to wear off and, with a few exceptions, the number feels kind of dull. Andrew Lloyd Webber himself said that he was never really pleased with how Growltiger turned out and the London Revival rewrite might be worse than the original, at least musically. But, I’ve seen a few productions of Growltiger that I thought were kind of funny, usually by taking the racial stuff and sort of saying, “We know it’s bad and we can’t make it better, so we’ll just make it worse” and playing it up to the point of absurdity, like a parody of the sort of Yellow Peril stereotypes the song includes. I’ll also give credit to the Tecklenburg non-replica keeping the Siamese in silhouette behind a sheet.

When I say “The Rumpus Cat is not Growltiger”, I mean that how the two characters work comedically is completely different. You can’t just swap one for the other without rewriting the comedy of the entire number to match.

You’ll notice that Growltiger is in the title of Growltiger’s Last Stand. The song centers around Growltiger as the main character. The Pekes and the Pollicles includes the Rumpus Cat in the full title, but said title is so long that you rarely ever hear the song called that. The Rumpus Cat plays a key role in the story, but he shows up later on. The song isn’t about him. He’s not onstage for most of it.

This means that the comedy surrounding Growltiger and the comedy surrounding the Rumpus Cat work completely differently. The comedy of Growltiger is the comedy of Growltiger’s Last Stand. It all revolves around him. This is a joke based on a wacky character. The joke in The Pekes and the Pollicles isn’t about a single wacky character. It’s about a play where everything that could go wrong does with Munkustrap acting as the straight man. He’s the only one taking this seriously, perhaps a bit too seriously. The Rumpus Cat is just another thing that goes wrong. He’s funny, but so is everyone else who calls attention to themselves throughout the number.

Putting Gus as the Rumpus Cat into the Pekes and Pollicles is performing the number but with the joke from Growltiger. The Rumpus Cat enters the story too late for this to work, so Gus spends most of the number onstage, sharing the narrator role with Munkustrap. Furthermore, in order to include Rumpus Catified versions of Growltiger’s jokes, pretty much every memorable joke from The Pekes and the Pollicles is cut. Nothing goes wrong with the rest of the cast. The first Peke and Pollicle say their lines correctly. The March of the Pollicles and the Scottish Pollicles are cut, removing all the gags there, including Tugger playing the bagpipes at such a fitting moment that only Munkustrap is upset at first.

The fact that nobody messes up is especially weird in this version, because it’s spontaneous. Old Deuteronomy decides that Gus should get to play the Rumpus Cat again and everyone just automatically knows their role in the play. The Pekes and the Pollicles is a show Munkustrap put together for Old Deuteronomy. He had everything planned out. There were rehearsals. But, nobody showed up to rehearsals and nothing goes according to plan. If the play were spontaneous and everyone messed up, it wouldn’t be as funny, because that’s what you’d expect. Nobody had time to learn what to do, so they don’t do it right.

Instead of having the comedy come from the cast of the play messing up, the comedy is about how over-the-top Gus is. He’s narrating now, so why is Munkustrap even there? He does sort of play the straight man to Gus’ antics, but, because Munkustrap isn’t in charge here, he can’t show as much frustration. He can only awkwardly question things and be ignored. The worst case of this is with the “heathen Chinese” line. Most modern productions replace “heathen” with a less offensive word. It almost always feels a bit forced, but it works well enough. Some productions just leave the line as is, which makes it seem like they don’t care, but it doesn’t make the problem any worse. 2016 instead decides to call attention to how bad the line is by having Munkustrap question it, with the line being the older Gus’ fault. Not only does this make Gus less likable, it doesn’t actually solve the problem. The song can’t stop to acknowledge it, so, even though Munkustrap questions it, he still says the line anyway, making the whole thing a waste of time. They should’ve either changed the line or left it alone. But, they basically tried to have it both ways.

Trying to have it both ways is the fatal flaw of the number. They could’ve cut Growltiger like the 1998 film did. If you hadn’t seen any production of the show before seeing the 1998 film, you’d never guess that there was supposed to be a song between Gus and Skimbleshanks. It can be easily edited out. They also could’ve kept Growltiger and used redesigned, less stereotypical costumes for the Siamese, like the Vienna Revival did. It wouldn’t solve everything, but an effort would’ve been made. But, by combining Growltiger with another number, they both did and didn’t cut the number. Instead, the messed with and weakened The Pekes and the Pollicles so they could reference Growltiger without actually performing it.

The places were Growltiger’s melody is used for lines in The Pekes and the Pollicles feel forced, because those words weren’t written for that tune. That basically sums up the whole problem. One song was combined with another in a way that felt forced and awkward, because the elements of the two numbers weren’t meant to go together.

In conclusion, I think the Broadway Revival’s comedic downfall came from a sort of indecisiveness. They wanted to keep things the same but also change them, possibly not even knowing what they wanted to change them into, only that they wanted to change them. They wanted to shorten Bustopher’s solo, but not the way it’d been done before. They wanted to cut Growltiger, but not in the way it’d been done before. They wanted to do Cats, but not in the way it’d been done before.

There’s nothing wrong with wanting to try new things. This could’ve been the template for an interesting non-replica if they really committed to doing things in a different way. But, they got stuck in between, wanting to be different, but not wanting to be too different. So, they tried to fix what wasn’t broken and sell it as New and Improved. This paved the way for the 2019 film to do the same, but with even worse comedy and without the advantage of the numbers being performed well by a devoted cast who knew what they were doing.

TLDR: 2016 messes with comedic numbers in ways that weaken them. It makes Bustopher Jones more completely about gluttony and tries to combine The Pekes and the Pollicles with Growltiger, failing both.

#bustopher jones #gus the theatre cat #the pekes and the pollicles #growltiger #cats 2016 #taking comedy too seriously tbh #do the thing or don't #you can't have it both ways

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