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maladaptive-daydreamer-23 · 3 days ago

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Ask Me Again

A/N: Today’s dose of Hotch angst was brought to you literally by a Disney song. Did I cry writing this? Maybe. Was my intent to make you cry? Of course not! 😉 Do I really hope you enjoy it? Absolutely!

Love,

Mal 🩶

Thank you for being so supportive and beta reading @cringeiknow

Warnings: Age gap of ten years, mentions of weight loss and poor eating habits, failed proposal, breakup??? Kinda, miscommunication and misunderstandings. One mention of unprotected sex that did not occur on page.

Tags: ANGSTTTTT, Fluff at the end, these two idiots are so in love, they just need a little help figuring it out. Reader is female. Appearance is nondescript.

WC: 8k

Ao3

Back to Mal’s Masterlist

It’d been two months since you’d broken Aaron Hotchner’s heart. Two months since you’d just stood there and looked at him, in complete shock and silence. Two months since you should have said something, anything! It didn’t have to be yes or no. Just “I love you, but I’m not ready.”

He would have understood.

Of course he would have! He was the most understanding and patient man you knew.

But you froze.

Panicked.

You had seen the light fade from his eyes, the smile fall from his lips. The tears that filled his eyes.

It hadn’t been a “no.” Just a “not yet.”

But you hadn’t spoken up in time, couldn’t get your heart, mind, and mouth on the same page.

You were… confused.

It had blind sided you, truthfully. You hadn’t ever suspected that he was even thinking about…

Marriage.

You certainly hadn’t been.

Sure, in the future, of course! But you had thought you had a few more years, not months. You were so much younger than him, your career was just starting, you had so much left to do and accomplish before settling down. You had definitely contemplated marrying him, someday, but you hadn’t been ready!

And now… things would never be the same.

He had gotten up and then he had walked away.

And you had watched him go.

You hadn’t known what to say. You still didn’t. So you hadn’t.

He hadn’t reached out either.

There were so many times, over the last few months, where you had thought about picking up the phone and calling him. Late at night when you were lonely and the only thing you had to comfort you was a white dress shirt of his that he’d misplaced at your apartment. He would’ve answered, you knew deep down that he would have. Not once in your entire relationship had he failed to answer your calls. But you were too afraid of the possibility that this time he wouldn’t, so you would put on the shirt and cry yourself to sleep.

One day, about three weeks ago, you had made it all the way to his office door. But if he had wanted to speak to you, if he had wanted to hear an explanation, or entertain your excuses…

He would have asked you, and he hadn’t.

So you had just stood there, fist raised, ready to knock. Staring at his name on the door and wishing you had a spine. For five whole minutes. You had been able to feel the team’s eyes on your back. Rossi had even come out of his office, leaned back against the railing and watched you.

Then you had chickened out. Shook your head, with tears falling down your cheeks, and walked away.

The two of you had ignored each other. Kind of. It wasn’t… hostile. It was passive. You were both hurting. That was obvious to everyone. However, you didn’t take it out on each other, you didn’t argue. You were congenial and polite. You still went to team events and get togethers if the other was going to be there. For the sake of the team, you hadn’t let things become bitter or angry between you.

You just didn’t go out of your way to speak to each other either.

You used to be his field partner, he would always pair you with himself, just so he could spend a little more time with you on busy cases. Unless there was something he needed to send you with someone else for. He would rest his elbow on the center console in the SUV and either hold your hand, or grip your thigh. Only when the others weren’t in the car.

Not anymore though.

The Monday after the night you’d said nothing, he had paired you with Morgan, and he had taken Prentiss.

That had cut you to the bone.

It had tipped the rest of the team off too.

When he and Prentiss had left, your knees had buckled, and you had collapsed to the floor. Or you would have, had Morgan not had great reflexes.

“Woah, easy there.” He’d said as he supported your weight, pulling you to his chest and holding you while you sobbed. “What just happened?”

He hadn’t been asking you. You were too distraught to respond.

“I- I think they’re fighting?” Reid had murmured, unsure and quiet.

“This isn’t just a fight…” Rossi had whispered. “Give her some space.”

So no one had questioned you about it.

Not when you cried at random for the next month–like when you would think of something funny and go to text him, only to realize you couldn’t just do that anymore—they just tried not to stare. Not when you’d cut and dyed your hair—because you couldn’t forget the way it used to look when he would twirl it around his fingers idly—they had just told you it looked nice. Not when you’d stopped eating lunch with them—you couldn’t stomach sitting across from Aaron and remembering how he used to squeeze your thigh under the table—they always asked though, you just said you weren’t hungry. They had given you space… but they still offered you companionship.

But nothing they did could fill the gaping hole that Aaron had left in your heart.

You’d memorized that night, that horrible ten minutes that had altered the course of your life for good. You’d studied it, picked it apart in your head, gone over all the ways that the outcome could have been different.

You wished you could go back and make it right, you wished you could go back and say yes.

Never in a million years had he ever imagined that you wouldn’t say yes. He loved you, and he had been so sure that you loved him just as much. So when you had just… stood there, blinking at him in… terror?

He was confused, for a moment, and then he’d realized that you weren’t going to say yes.

So he’d waited… for a reason, an explanation, a simple not yet!

But you hadn’t said a word.

His heart had felt like it had been ripped from his chest and thrown in a blender. Still beating.

And he hadn’t wanted to cry in front of you. Not because he thought that was something to be ashamed of—he’d cried in front of you many times before—but because he hadn’t wanted his emotions to manipulate your answer. You were a fixer, that's what you did, whether you meant to or not. If someone was hurting, you did everything in your power to make it right. He didn’t want you to say yes just because he would be hurt if you didn’t.

So he had left.

He’d had the ring for months. Dave and Jess had helped him pick it out, helped him plan the proposal and everything. When he’d come home that night without you, they’d both been waiting in his living room, hoping to congratulate you. So when he’d sat the ring box down on the kitchen table, and walked past them to his room, they'd known it hadn’t gone according to plan.

He’d gotten in the shower, and he’d cried. He didn’t even bother to completely undress. Just wanting the heat and noise of the water so he could cry in peace.

He cried until the water ran cold.

Then he’d pulled it together and he’d gotten redressed. He’d gone to the living room, where Jess and Dave were still waiting, and he’d just sat down in front of them.

“She said no?” Jess asked, in total disbelief. “What happened? Did she say why?”

“Jess…” Dave had laid a hand on her arm. “Give him a minute.”

So he’d taken a minute to figure out how to even explain, when he didn’t understand it himself. He’d been so sure…

“She didn’t say anything.” He’d murmured after a moment. “She just stood there and looked at me… like she was terrified. I didn’t know what to think. I waited for an explanation, an answer, anything. She just stood there, and I couldn’t… I couldn’t take it. So I left.”

“Oh Aaron, I’m sorry…” Jess murmured. “But she didn’t say no… so maybe??”

He’d just shook his head.

“You didn’t see her Jess. She didn’t say no… but it was in her eyes.” He’d whispered.

“Are you gonna try to talk to her, Aaron?” Dave had wondered. “I think you should, this isn’t like her… she loves you. I’m sure there’s a reason.”

“I might, I don’t know. I feel like I need to wait for her to come to me…” He reasoned. “She obviously wasn’t ready to talk about it yet.”

So he waited.

He waited all weekend and you never called, you didn’t even send a text. He checked his phone obsessively. It was the first time in four years you hadn’t told him good night and good morning. He barely slept, not wanting to miss it if you called.

That Monday morning, you hadn’t sat next to him at the briefing, or on the jet, and he’d thought… this is it, we’re over, she’s done. And he figured, you wouldn’t want to be alone with him, so he had assigned you to be Morgan’s partner for that case, and he’d taken Prentiss. He’d walked away with tears streaming down his face.

He’d flinched every time she spoke in the car, each word a stark reminder that you weren’t where you should’ve been.

Prentiss–at least at first–had the good sense to let it be.

But over the next few weeks he’d had to come clean and tell them all what had happened, his version of it anyway. He didn’t know what you’d told them. Apparently nothing, because they’d been confused and shocked as well. They checked on him constasdntly, asking occasionally if he was gonna talk to you. He had told them he was waiting for any sign that you wanted him to.

Then he’d noticed you withering away…

You were only picking at your food—when he saw you eat at all—even things he knew to be your favorite. He knew if he were to wrap his arms around your waist, it would feel thinner than it had the last time he’d done it. The day you had come in to work after you’d cut and dyed your hair he’d been speechless. Not because he thought it looked bad—you would always look perfect to him, no matter what your hair looked like—he was speechless because he’d always told you how much it soothed him to play with the ends of it when he was anxious or bored. And you’d cut it off. He’d wanted to tell you it looked pretty, or that it suited you. Even just ‘your hair looks nice,’ would do! Literally anything that gave him a single reason to talk to you.

But you didn’t seem to want any attention from him and now it had been two months.

He just wished he could go back to that moment, and ask some questions… Like, why are you so scared? Or is it me you’re scared of? (He knew he’d never given you a reason to be, but the obvious fear in your eyes had made him doubt.) He wished he'd given you more time, more understanding.

He wished he hadn’t walked away from you.

It was your anniversary. Or it would have been.

Four years since your first date.

You were on a case—just like you had been that day four years ago—and Aaron was looking so good. (Much like he had back then.) Which clearly made things twice as hard.

He was wearing that stupid fucking navy button up, with black slacks. His sleeves rolled up to mid forearm as he sorted through case files and evidence on the table in front of him. The glare of sunlight from the window kept reflecting off the face of his watch and directly into your eyes, drawing them where they shouldn’t linger.

Soon you found yourself staring at his face, studying him, wondering why you hadn’t just… said yes…

His brow was pinched in that way that you knew meant something wasn’t adding up to him. His jaw flexing and his eyes squinting, you knew what that meant. He was getting a tension headache from staring at the small font and jumbled handwriting on all these files. You wondered where he’d left his reading glasses—he was horrible about keeping up with them—knowing they would help him, if only a bit. You would have JJ offer him some ibuprofen and a bottle of water later. You could trust her to make sure he drank it. Knowing him, he’d only drank coffee for the last several days. Running on caffeine and sheer will, as was his specialty. He’d be dehydrated. You had always been the one to remind him to take care of himself during tough cases, otherwise he wouldn’t… Even though he still took care of you.

He cleared his throat, and you realized he was staring back at you.

“Problem?” He asked, his tone soft even though he kept his question short.

“Uh, no… it’s…” You scrambled for any reason as to why you were staring, when you no longer had that right. You couldn’t ask him where his glasses were, or tell him he should drink some water, that wasn’t your place anymore…“Your watch keeps blinding me, I was trying to come up with a nice way to ask you to step to the left a little.”

“A nice way?” He queried, his voice full of confusion and maybe a little hurt. “You could have just asked, I would have moved. It's not a problem.”

“I know… I just…” You stammered, great, now you’d upset him. “I didn’t want you to think I was being rude, or that I was angry over it. I– Nevermind, it's not a big deal, I’ll just move…”

You got up to switch seats, but he was already moving.

“No, sit, it's fine. I can move.” He stepped to the left, blocking the sunlight from his watch face.

“Thank you.” You murmured, and offered him a timid smile.

“Of course.” He mumbled back, his eyes going back to the table in front of him.

The smile fell from your face and you looked away. Noticing, as you did, that the entire team was looking back and forth between you… very uncomfortably. All offering you comforting looks. You felt tears welling up in your eyes. One escaped without permission, rolling down your cheek like acid.

You wouldn’t do this again. You wouldn’t cry in front of them. You refused to subject him, of all people, to your tears. This whole thing was your fault… you had no right to cry. Not in front of him.

So you left the room, making your way to the station’s ladies room.

You had only been alone for thirty seconds when JJ came in behind you. You wiped at your face, trying to hide the tears that were rebelling against you.

“You okay?” She murmured, walking up behind you and wrapping her arms around you in a hug. Resting her chin on your shoulder.

And that was all it took for the floodgates to open.

You rested your head against hers and you sobbed. Violently.

She just held you, letting you get it out.

“I love him.” You whimpered pathetically after several minutes. “God, I love him. I fucked up so bad, JJ…”

“What happened?” She asked.

“He didn’t tell anyone?” You returned.

“He did… but I want to hear it from you.” She said, “I think, maybe… you two have your wires crossed.”

“I just stood there.” You murmured. “He asked me to marry him… and I didn’t say a word. I was, I don't know… Stunned? Shocked? Definitely confused… I didn’t think we were… I didn’t even know he was thinking about marriage! I love him! And I want to be with him! Forever, if possible! But I panicked… because… I’m not ready… JJ, I'm ten years younger than him… and I am just getting started and I have so many things left to accomplish in life, and I’m just not ready to be… married. But when I am… I want it to be him and if he were ever to ask me again… I would say yes… I can’t live with myself for losing him.”

“Oh, honey, maybe you should tell him that.” She suggested, stroking your hair gently.

You shook your head.

“No, that’s not fair to him. He’s obviously choosing to move on.” You disagreed. “He’s had two months to process his emotions and if he wanted an explanation he would have asked, he’s never been afraid of hard conversations. So I won’t force him to deal with my regret, I can move on like a big girl, I made my bed and I’ll lie in it.”

“Sweetie, you know I love ya… But that's a really stupid reason not to try…” She admitted. “I think if the opportunity presents itself, you should try.”

“I’ll think about it.” You told her, as if that hadn’t been the sole focus of your mind for the last two months.

“Good.” She squeezed you a little tighter, then let you go. “You ready to head back in there?”

You nodded, but then caught sight of yourself in the mirror.

“Oh God, I’m a mess.” You groaned and she smiled.

“I’ll help you.” She offered and together you set about fixing your makeup.

Today was harder than most, and he knew it was because of the date. Your anniversary.

On this day, four years ago, he’d finally decided that the reward outweighed the risk, and he’d asked you to go get a drink with him at the hotel bar. He hadn’t intended to end up in your bed that night—he wasn’t one to make a trip around all four bases on a first date—but he had never regretted it. His only regret was walking away.

He’d planned to take you on a trip for this anniversary, he had planned to tell you about it this morning and whisk you away for the week, having already approved your time off. But that was before…

And now here you both were, having awkward conversations about watches and sunlight, walking on eggshells like one of you might break if a wrong word was spoken.

He guessed that was fairly accurate actually, and apparently, ‘of course’, were the wrong words to say to ‘thank you.’

Because those words seemed to have caused you to flee the room in tears and he felt helpless.

He had tried to go after you, he’d taken two steps toward the door.

“Aaron.” Dave had said quietly. “Let her go. She doesn’t want you to see her cry, that's why she left.”

He hated that he was no longer the person you allowed to dry your tears. He used to kiss them away, then pepper your cheeks with kisses until you started to laugh instead.

But you didn’t want that from him anymore…

So he nodded and then he sat down, dropping his head into his hands on the table.

“What did I say wrong?” He murmured, to whoever could provide him with an answer.

“Nothing…” Prentiss offered quietly.

“Then why-”

“It wasn’t what you said, Hotch.” She interrupted. “She smiled at you… and you didn’t smile back. You always used to smile at her, even when you were stressed.”

He had… Your mere presence had always been enough to bring a smile to his face.

“I didn’t see it! If I had, I would have smiled too. God, I’ve been waiting two months for her to show any sign that she wants me to talk to her! I just didn’t see it!” He explained.

You had smiled at him? You hadn’t done that in months. Not since the night that started this mess. Maybe… maybe there was hope?

“Should I go to her?” He asked. “Tell her I didn’t see…”

“Well, she went into the women's bathroom…” Reid pointed out. “The one place you legally cannot follow her. So I would say, no…”

“I’ll go Aaron…” JJ offered, “Just to make sure she’s alright?”

Hotch nodded, and then murmured, “Please, I- I can’t stand that she’s in there alone. Not when I know she’s hurting…”

JJ nodded and followed you without another word.

“Ya know, if you’ve been waiting for a sign… You must be pretty blind… cause that girl has been throwing up flares and screaming sos.” Derek said bluntly.

The room went silent, and Aaron looked at Derek.

“What do you mean?” He asked, and he was not offended. He was too desperate for answers to worry about his own ego at this point. Too desperate to have you back in his arms, where you belonged.

“Look at her Hotch, she dyed her hair, she cut it. She’s noticeably lost weight. She's not eating lunch with us anymore, she never smiles—Christ, that was the first one I’ve seen from her in two months—she cries like six times a day. Not that you would know that, she hides from you when she cries. She follows you with her eyes, constantly… like a kicked puppy. She is a walking cry for help. Just freaking bite the bullet and go talk to her man! If it goes well—Halle-fucking-lujah—this whole mess is over! If it doesn’t, at least you tried.” Derek preached, each word a blow to Aaron’s heart.

He knew you’d dyed your hair, cut it, he could tell you’d lost weight… he knew you weren’t okay… but the other things, the signs that the help you wanted was still his to give… he’d missed them. He hadn’t noticed the toll it was taking on the team either…

“Amen!” Emily seconded as though this were church or something.

Hotch glanced over at Dave, wanting his opinion.

“I’m with them, actually.” He crossed his arms, “Just let her get her emotions under control first.”

“Okay…” He murmured. “I’ll talk to her.”

You and JJ were gone for nearly forty minutes.

In that time, they’d gotten a possible credible tip on the tip line. So he’d sent Morgan, Rossi, Reid and Prentiss to check it out. The press had gotten wind of it in the first five minutes somehow.

The first thing he noticed when you entered the room was that your face was bare, red and a little puffy. You’d cried so hard you’d had no choice but to wash your makeup off.

He cleared his throat and you looked toward him.

“JJ, I need you to manage the press, we’ve got a leak somewhere. They haven’t released anything yet, but they’re blowing up my phone.” He told her, without ever taking his eyes off of you.

“Yes sir.” She murmured and then left the room just as quickly and quietly as she’d entered it.

You and he just looked at each other for a moment.

In that moment he could see the regret and the grief and the longing in your eyes, and he knew…

The others were right, he’d been blind.

This was the first time you’d been alone with him in two months. Your heart was pounding out of your chest as he just looked at you. His expression unreadable, even to you.

You cleared your throat and looked away briefly, blinking back new tears.

“Where are the others?” You asked, anything to keep his piercing eyes from discerning too much.

“Checking a tip we got that might be credible.” He answered you quietly.

“Is- is there anything I can do?” You asked again, then looked back at him.

He was still just watching, studying.

“Yes, actually, I was going to ask you to help me run out to grab dinner for the team. I’ll need help carrying everything and I’m pretty sure Prentiss was about to gnaw her own arm off. She might sacrifice Reid if we don’t have food when she gets back.” He joked, and he almost sounded nervous.

So you laughed.

And he smiled.

“Of course.” You said through giggles, and then he walked at your side all the way to the SUV.

Where he opened the door for you and offered you a hand to help you inside, and you hoped it wasn’t just a habit.

The silence in the car was loaded. Both of you anxiously fidgeting in your own way. This felt so wrong. It had NEVER been this weird when you were together, even at the beginning. You used to make food runs like this all the time, sometimes chatting, others just enjoying the comfort of sitting together in silence. This was different, there were so many unsaid words hanging in the air between you…

“How have you–”

“You look nice tod–”

You both spoke at the same time.

“I’m sorry–”

It happened again. You looked over at him and scrunched your face up like, ‘this is so weird…’

“You go first.” He suggested, offering you a soft smile.

You blushed… What you were going to say had been… risky.

“I- uh- I was just gonna say that- ya know what, it wasn’t important. What were you going to say?” You fumbled, looking anywhere but at him, and picking at a loose thread on your pants.

“No, go ahead, I want to know.” He insisted. “I spoke over you, you know I hate doing that.”

He did… He always made sure that he waited patiently until you had completely finished your thought. Even if what he had to say was logically more important. He never treated it that way.

“Actually I’m pretty sure I spoke over you…” You murmured softly, absolving him of any guilt. “But I was just going to say that you look nice today, that was always my favorite outfit of yours.”

“Oh.” He said quietly. “You never told me that.”

You’d never told him because it embarrassed you that an outfit affected you the way this one did… and you definitely couldn’t tell him that now. The silence grew too tense and you didn’t know what to say so you changed the subject.

“What were you going to say?” You asked.

“How have you been? We haven’t really… talked.” He questioned, so, so carefully.

You glanced over at him, his eyes were on the road, but every ten seconds or so they would flit your way.

“I- Um.” You wet your lips and then bit the bottom one. “I’m alright.”

“Are you?” He asked again. “Truthfully.”

You nodded.

“Yeah, I’m good, Aaron. Really.” You insisted.

“Please don’t lie.” He whispered quietly. “I can take it.”

You felt a sharp pain in your chest, he had never accused you of dishonesty before.

You looked back over at him fully this time and there was this… agony, on his face.

“What makes you think I would lie to you about that?” You asked a little defensively. “I’ve never lied to you before, and even if I was, it's my problem, not yours.”

You saw the hurt on his face, as though you had physically struck him.

“You aren’t eating.” He said through gritted teeth. “And even though I’m not your… anymore. I am still your unit chief. So yes, it is my problem, you’ve noticeably lost weight and it’s my job to make sure that you’re fit for duty.”

Had you really lost weight? You hadn’t noticed… but for him to question whether or not you were fit for duty, it pissed you off. More than it should’ve.

“Is that what this is about? The job?!” You demanded. “You're gonna play that card?”

He gripped the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turned white.

“If that’s what I have to do to get a straight answer out of you and know whether or not you’re gonna be okay, then yes! I will play that card!” He insisted, his voice tense and quiet.

He wouldn’t yell at you. You knew that, he never had before and even now that wasn’t going to change. Even if you wished he would.

“Fine.” You muttered. “No, I am not eating much, I can’t. It makes me sick pretty much every time.”

His eyes grew wide and he immediately pulled the car over to the side of the road and parked.

“Are you pregnant?” He blurted, studying you even closer now.

“What?!?” You looked at him as though he were insane. You didn’t even know what to say about that.

“Four nights before I proposed, we had sex in the hotel during the case and I didn’t have a condom.” He said as though that cleared everything up. “And now it's been two months, you don’t have an appetite, you’re crying six and seven times a day and suddenly you’re watching me with this look! Like you have something to tell me but you’re scared! So what am I supposed to think?”

“Not that!” You exclaimed. “I’m not pregnant Aaron! I swear, I just got off my period.”

“Then why aren’t you eating?” He asked.

He was so thick headed sometimes.

“Because Aaron! I’m grieving! I know you probably don’t think I have the right to do that. But I cannot help it!” You knew you were raising your voice at him and you knew that wasn’t fair while he remained calm but you couldn’t help it.

“Grieving?” He whispered, that pained look crossing his face again and making you wish that you still had the right to smooth it away…

“Yes Aaron! Our relationship died overnight and I’m grieving it! I’m sorry that it's taking me longer than you to get over it, but some people can’t just walk away and not look back!” You accused, fighting back tears again.

You knew that wasn’t fair, but it wasn’t fair of him to do this to you either. It felt like he was torturing you. Acting like he still cared, when he hadn’t reached out to you… When he had been the one to walk away… You knew that at the root of it all, everything was your fault. He didn’t have to act like it wouldn’t affect you though.

“I can’t.” You muttered and got out of the car, slamming the door and walking back toward the station that was only about a mile back down the road.

Aaron got out of the car and followed you, closing his door much more gently than you had. You were angry at him now… good. You’d always been bluntly honest with him when you were angry, and he needed to know exactly what was going on inside your head.

“Where are you going?” He called, not letting his voice rise above a conversational tone.

“Back to the station.” You answered flippantly, not bothering to look back.

“No you aren’t. It’s a mile away. Get back in the car.” He said softly, but you didn’t stop. “Stop, please, and get back in the car, it's dangerous to do this on the side of the road.”

You kept trudging forward, gait a little unsteady as you walked on the uneven ditch bank.

“We’re not doing this at all Aaron, I thought we could, but I can’t. Not if you only care because it’s your job!” You tossed back over your shoulder.

He was stunned.

“Is that what you think?” He asked, how had you gotten that impression?

He had been trying to tell you how much he still cared this whole time!

“It's what you said!” You insisted. “You said, you had to make sure I was fit for duty!”

“That is not what I said! Not all of it!” He felt his voice rising, felt himself getting frustrated. “I said that if I had to play that card to make sure that you were okay, I would! That's entirely different!”

“Well I’m not okay, Aaron! Are you happy?! Is that what you wanted to hear?!” You shouted, marching down the side of the busy highway.

Traffic was zooming by and you were making him nervous, he couldn’t focus on the conversation when you were one wrong step—one distracted driver—from a fatal accident. He ran to cover the last few feet between you.

“Of course not!” He snapped back, finally catching up and grabbing your arm, pulling you away from the edge of the road to safety. “You think it wasn’t torture for me all these weeks, not being able to ask you myself how you were doing? Having to send the others back and forth to check on you!”

You didn’t fight him, just let him drag you up the other side of the ditch bank. Trusting him instinctively, as if this were a normal fight, and you hadn’t almost completely disappeared from each other’s lives.

“Why didn’t you just come talk to me?” You asked him, tears streaming down your face. “I waited for you to call me! To ask for an explanation! To want to talk to me about it! Why didn’t you just ask me yourself!”

Is that why you’d pulled so far away from him? Because he hadn’t brought it up?

“I was waiting for you!” He exclaims. “I didn’t think you wanted to talk about it, you obviously didn’t that night!”

You had that look in your eyes now, the one that said you were about to blow a gasket. You had only looked at him like that once, but if you were looking at him like that now, then it meant there was something left worth fighting for.

“You walked away from me! You left me standing there confused!” Your tears had soaked your cheeks, and were dripping down onto your blouse. He would’ve given anything to make them go away, especially knowing he was causing them.

“I waited for nearly five minutes in silence! I stood there, waiting for you to say something! Anything! And you just stood there! You clearly weren’t ready to discuss it and I needed some space! I poured my heart out to you and you just stared at me!” He could feel tears of his own running into his nose and mouth.

“I didn’t say no!” You yelled and the sound was so rage filled and agonized that he froze. “I was scared Aaron! I’m in my twenties! You’re nearly forty! I have not had the same amount of time as you to live! I still have things I want to do, places and things I want to see! Marrying you right now would probably end my career! Or at least put it on hold! We had NEVER talked about marriage seriously! I thought it was YEARS away! I was shocked, you blindsided me, I had so much to think about and you only gave me five minutes and then you walked! I agonized over it all weekend and I waited for you to call me and check in! Demand an explanation! Ask to talk! Ask me LITERALLY ANYTHING! You didn’t! So I figured you needed space! And then that Monday, you didn’t choose me! You chose Prentiss and then you walked away and left me with Morgan! That made it pretty clear to me that you were done with me! So of course I never said a goddamn thing!”

He couldn’t- were- were you… serious?! How could he ever be done with you? You were his whole world, you were EVERYTHING!

“I was not done with you!” He heard the disgust in his tone that his heart felt at that phrase. “I will never be done with you! I thought you needed space! You stopped sitting next to me, you wouldn’t even look at me during the briefing or on the jet! I tried to get your attention so many times! I did want to talk to you about it, but I didn’t want to corner you! When you started avoiding me I thought that you were done with me! And in my defense, I proposed to you and you didn’t say yes! That’s usually a pretty good indicator that you don’t want to spend the rest of your life with someone!”

You threw your hands up in the air.

“And I fucking hate myself for it!” You screamed. “If I could go back I would say yes! A thousand times I would say yes! Because I cannot live without you, Aaron! I don’t know how! So I am stuck here in this HELL, where I am so in love with you, but we’re not together and it’s all my fault because I couldn’t just open my mouth and say words!!!!”

“You still love me?” The breath left his lungs in a rush, and he wouldn’t draw another one until you answered.

“Of course I do!” You snapped, panting heavily, tears steadily falling.

He didn’t know when he’d decided to move, but before he registered the motion, he had you in his arms and was kissing you with all the built up longing and desire he’d been holding in for two months.

All you could taste were tears. Yours and his.

You couldn’t bring yourself to care as you tugged him closer, parting your lips for him and letting him kiss you breathless. On the side of the road.

“I missed you so fucking much…” He murmured against your lips, threading his hand into your hair and pressing you closer with the other. “I missed these lips, I missed this hair—no matter what color, or length it is—I missed your laugh, I missed your smile, I missed your hands, I missed touching you, I missed talking to you, I missed fighting with you! I just missed you!”

He punctuated every confession with a kiss and your heart was singing in your chest.

You whimpered into his mouth, and sobbed harder.

“I missed you too.” You whispered. “I’m so sorry!”

You would apologize a hundred times–a thousand times–if that's what it took to make things right.

“No baby, I’m sorry!” He murmured between kisses, holding you tighter. “I shouldn’t have sprung that on you and especially not without making certain we were on the same page. Clearly we weren’t. I wish I could go back and do that differently. If you don’t want to get married, we don’t have to get married. It’s just a piece of paper and a few legalities. You’re all I want.”

You pulled your head back and framed his face with your hands. Looking into those warm hazel eyes that had haunted your dreams for the last two months.

“I. Didn’t. Say. No.” You emphasized each word. “I just needed some time to think everything through.”

Tears were streaming down his face one after the other and you could feel them pouring down yours as well.

“Are you saying yes?” He breathed.

“I have some conditions…” You murmured.

“Such as?” He asked and he was trembling.

You stroked his cheek tenderly and he leaned into your touch, as though he were desperate for it.

“From now on, we always talk it out. Immediately. No matter what it is or how awkward it may be. Because I cannot do this again, the last two months were torture.” You whispered.

“Agreed.” He said kissing your forehead. “Anything else?”

You nodded.

“I want a long engagement, I do want to marry you Aaron, and I want to be with you for the rest of my life. But I’m still just a Special Agent. I want to at least make SSA before we get married, otherwise I won’t be able to unless I transfer to another unit and I don’t want to do that. I want to stay with the team, they’re our family.” You explained.

He nodded, taking your hands from his cheek and kissing your palm.

“I completely understand, Sweetheart. Your career is just as important to me as mine and I want you to know that. Is there anything else?” He asked again.

“Just one…” You murmured quietly, leaning in to him and he rested his forehead against yours.

“Anything baby, you name it. I’ll make it happen.” He swore.

“That’s a big promise, Mr. Hotchner.” You teased, but you knew he meant it.

“I mean it.” He insisted. “I will do anything for you, Sweetheart.”

“I want you to ask me again.” You whispered. “When we get home, I want you to ask again, so I can do it right this time.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong last time, baby.” He murmured. “Not a single thing. But if you want me to, I will.”

“I really do.” You admitted giving him a teary smile. “I love you, Aaron. So much.”

“In that case.” He said, and then he stepped away from you, digging in his left pants pocket and pulling something small out.

He got down on one knee, right there on the bank of a ditch, beside a busy highway.

You gasped in disbelief as he held out a ring. The ring.

“Y-you were just- just carrying that around??” You stuttered.

He nodded, giving you a sheepish grin.

“I’ve had it in my pocket every day since the first time I asked you.” He confessed.

“What? Why?” You asked, heart racing and breathless.

“I don’t really know…” He shrugged. “Hope, I guess.”

“Hope?” It was more of a sob than a question.

“I thought that maybe if I just held onto hope that you still loved me, then you’d come back to me.” He explained. “I think it worked…”

He had never given up on you…

“I never left, baby.” You were still crying, and now you were crying harder. “But I think it worked too.”

“Will you marry me? Not right this second, not even this year or the next… but someday, someday, Sweetheart, will you do me the honor of being my wife?” He asked, with tears and hope in his eyes.

“Yes.” You murmured, biting back a sob. “A million times, yes!”

He slid the ring onto your left hand and then you pulled him to his feet and kissed him again, and again… and again.

And again.

Aaron was on cloud nine.

He could not stop smiling and looking at you… and touching you.

The thing he found himself doing the most though, was kissing the back of your left hand—which he had barely let go of since you’d both gotten back in the vehicle—and staring at the ring that looked so much prettier on your finger than it had off of it. You smiled everytime you caught him.

God, had he missed that smile.

Together, you had gone and gotten plenty of chinese food for the whole team and while he remembered everyone’s orders from years of making these trips, it warmed his heart that you were quietly reminding him of the little details in his ear. Like how Emily liked the spicy sauce with her sushi and JJ didn’t. And how Rossi liked General Zhao’s chicken while Spencer liked the Orange, and Morgan’s absolute favorite was crab rangoon.

On the ride back, you had looked over at him with mischief in your gorgeous eyes.

“I know that look.” He murmured, with a smile. “What’re you up to over there?”

You giggled and his heart felt like it was going to combust.

“I was thinking…” You murmured, that mischief filling your voice too. “Should we tell them? Or… should we see how long it takes them to notice the rock, and the fact that we’re not making them incredibly uncomfortable with our pining and yearning and moping anymore.”

He chuckled.

“Hmmm, let's really put them to the test.” Aaron hummed, smirking at you playfully and kissing your hand again.

“Oh? What did you have in mind?” You asked, your eyes glowing with mirth.

“I’ll start a timer, and we’ll judge them based on how long it takes them.” He suggested.

You cackled maniacally and it made him laugh. He missed that sound.

“Wait, is this really fair? You technically have a rule where we’re not allowed to profile each other…” You reminded him.

“Yes, the rule that only I seem to follow…” He joked.

You scoffed.

“Yeah right!” You called him out. “You are literally the worst of us when it comes to that rule! You break it all the time!”

He chuckled guiltily.

“Okay maybe you’re right.” He admitted.

“Of course I am.” You preened.

Ten minutes later, you were walking beside him and carrying two bags full of food, while he carried the other two. There may have only been six of you, but the team ate enough to feed a small army. He still managed to get all the doors for you, and when you went into the conference room ahead of him he braced for the questions he knew were coming. Sitting down the bags he started a timer. He didn’t dare look at you for too long as you set about passing out food, drinks and chopsticks. He thought surely everyone would notice the ring as you rigged Spencer’s with a rubber band so he could actually use them.

No one said a word.

By the time you’d passed out all the food it’d been five minutes.

You tossed him a quick glance and he couldn’t help but smile at your ‘what the fuck?’ expression. As he looked away, he caught Emily watching him suspiciously. He just raised an eyebrow at her and then looked down at his own food gathering a bite to pick up with his own chopsticks. She narrowed her eyes, then leaned over and murmured in Morgan’s ear, who’s brows rose on his forehead.

It wouldn’t be long now.

“Did the tip pan out?” Hotch took a shot at distracting them.

“No…” Emily said slowly, not buying it. “It didn’t…”

He shrugged.

“Well they rarely do this early, we’ll keep looking.” He said easily.

You sighed contentedly across the room, pulling his attention.

Your left hand was wrapped around the box of takeout and the ring was sparkling in the light from the window… and he just couldn’t resist looking at it.

Apparently neither could you, because you were purposely flashing the light from the reflection in JJ’s eye. Who couldn’t seem to figure out where it was coming from.

“Sweetheart?” He murmured in amusement.

The room stood still, no one even breathed… waiting for tears or a fumbled apology from him.

They’d be waiting a while.

“Hmmm?” You hummed back, looking up at him with joy in your eyes.

He raised his eyebrow at you and flicked his eyes down to the ring. No one reacted but you, smirking mischievously as you blushed at having been caught playing with the ring. Everyone else was too busy looking back and forth between you and him. Holding their breath and waiting for it to all fall apart.

“Can you put your hand down? You’re gonna blind JJ.” He teased softly.

“Oh… You mean, this hand?” You asked, playing along by setting the box down and lifting your hand so the ring caught the light again. “My left hand?”

“Yes, that hand, the rock on it is shining light right in poor JJ’s eyes.” He said playfully.

And then you both waited… for the moment of realization to dawn on any of them.

“WAIT A MINUTE!” Emily leapt from her perch and was across the room in under a second. “WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?!?!?!?!”

That got everyone else’s attention and they all jumped up to look too. Except for Dave, who already knew what it looked like and was looking at Aaron with a tear in his eye.

“She said yes?” He asked quietly, over the excited chatter from the younger agents.

Aaron looked at you through the cluster of agents and smiled, he found you already smiling back at him as JJ and Emily turned your hand in a million different angles.

“She said yes.”

#criminal minds #aaron hotchner #ssa aaron hotchner #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfic #hotch #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotch x reader #thomas gibson #aaron hotchner angst #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner oneshot #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fluff #hotch fluff #angst with a happy ending #angst

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dragonmasterhiccup · 2 days ago

Note

Stoick's eyes stayed on Grump while Gobber spoke. His expression was unreadable as it became clearer and clearer just how wrong he'd been.

"His own dragon..." It certainly wasn't a water dragon from the sound of it. Hiccup had been coming to the surface far longer than he realized.

His son had done that. Saved lives, human and dragon. Valka really would be so proud...

And what did Stoick do? Enforce laws, kept Hiccup away from what his mother loved. Imprisoned his own son for breaking those laws...

"...What have I done?" He said in almost a whisper before looking back at Gobber. "I must fix this, make things right. I can't lose him because of my foolish mistakes."

"But I'm going to need your help, old friend."

----

Hiccup blushed, nodding, "Right. Yeah, o-of course. No more of that..."

The merman didn't know what to think. The thought of actually getting to marry Astrid made a bright smile form. He nodded, agreeing with Axel, "Dragon training isn't meant to be a way to earn a living. I can easily teach everyone how, but I don't want anything in exchange. I have a few ideas for where I might like to work, but I have to see who will take me as an apprentice."

His first thought was to work in the forge with Gobber. There, he could learn how to blacksmith, learn leatherworking, and maybe he could dabble in woodworking too. He wanted to learn it all.

"In the meantime, I do have some pearls I can get back in Svaelund. Astrid told me they're worth something to humans, so that should give us a head start." That, and he planned to gift some to Axel and Phlegma, for their kindness in taking him in.

When Axel brought up a home, he looked up at the man, "Most of the homes here I noticed are made of wood. Will you...teach me how to build one? I know very little, and I want to make sure it's done right." Maybe he should incorporate stone, to make the structure even more sturdy... When the time comes...

He couldn't wait.

Hiccup's gaze lowered for a moment before a small smile formed. Looking back at Axel, he shook his head. "No. No regrets at all."

"... Actually, it uh... it's not permanent..."

Phlegma arched a brow, crossing her arms. "What do you mean, lad?"

"Well...turns out I actually had the ability to turn myself human all along..." Motioning with his hand, he made the water lift out of a nearby cup in an orb, "and I can reverse it at any time." Letting the water fall back into the cup, he continued, "Dad wouldn't do it, at least not at first, but since I'm his son, I have that same power."

This caused a bit of concern for Phlegma. Astrid already was willing to become a mermaid. What's to stop Hiccup from making her into one and taking her to the sea?

As she voiced her concerns, Hiccup quickly put them to rest. "I told Astrid this weeks ago, but I'd never take her away from either of you. I might have her join me to visit where I'm from, without the risk of freezing, but we'd always come back to the surface."

He then turned back to Axel. "What must be done to make the betrothal official? Do...do I truly have your approval, both of your approval, to marry her? I, I'm sure you both must have reservations, but..." Hiccup glanced back at Astrid, her features calm as she slept, "I love her, and I want to make her happy."

Gothi watched silently, observing all. Hm, she thought to herself, a merman and a human girl, falling in love and defying the odds. These two are going to become quite the legends... The elder chuckled silently to herself. She'd seen more than one unusual thing in her many, many years...but this was simply extraordinary.

After a long training session, all Astrid wanted to do was cool off on the beach. Maybe a tiny swim, even though the ocean was so cold at this time of year. She pushed through the brush and staggered down to the shore.

Only to find a boy lounging in the shallows.

“Oh!” She dropped her axe in the sand. From his bare torso, she assumed he was naked. “Sorry! I didn’t know someone else would be…here…” as the apologies flowed, she realized from the waist down, he had green scales and a pair of fins.

No wonder she hadn’t recognized him.

“No way…” she inched closer. “A real mermaid! In the flesh! Are the stories true?” She stamped down her overwhelming curiosity for a moment to give him a stern point. “Don’t try anything fishy, mermaid. I’m very capable of protecting myself, got it?”

((I saw the prompt and went feral, hope you don’t mind))

[X]

Hiccup started, the water around him splashing as he sat up straight in surprise, before he moved a little further back, his cheeks flushed.

"No, sorry, I, I shouldn't--" Ducking his head, the merman awkwardly held up a hand, "Usually no one comes here..."

But his movements only caused his tail to briefly break the surface, emerald scales glittering in the sun for a moment before dipping below the water again.

Firmly, he responded, "Merman. I am a merman. And no, don't worry, I, I wasn't going to try anything...I know you'd probably kill me if I did..."

Clearing his throat, he ran a hand through his hair, which had partially dried in his time sitting in the shallow water. "What, what stories are you referring to?"

He knew, or at least had a gut feeling about what she was asking, but he wanted to hear it from her. She appeared wary, but not fearful. Maybe these humans didn't have the same fears of his kind like the others?

#threads #partsypants #merman au

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myomie · 3 days ago

Text

L. KINGSCHOLAR ┌──────────────────────────────────────────┐ " Leona Kingscholar (SFW) Alphabet Headcanons! " GN! Reader Warnings (∩>؂•)⊃⦆=͟͟͞͞➵ None!! , Not proofread ────────────────────────────────────────────

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

My opinion on this kind of varies, especially based on how long the two of you have known each other. In general, he’s not very much a “words of affirmation” kind of guy, unless he knows you need it. He mostly expresses his affection through private displays of physical touch. Through napping together in the botanical garden, to in his room, all that matters to him is that it’s you. Outside of quality time (if napping counts), I think he'd enjoy rubbing against you, much like lions do in the wild. On instinct, he does get the urge to lick or gently bite at your skin occasionally, but he tries to avoid that, both out of mild embarrassment for his instincts and not wanting to hurt you. As mentioned earlier, he is primarily a man who values quality time and acts of service. However, if he knows you need it, he’ll sit by you. He’s never been good at comforting people, but he can’t help the words that fall from his mouth.

“I’m here.”

And although it’s such a small statement, it makes your heart race, and you either smile.. or start crying like a baby.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Honestly… I don’t think there would ever really be a best-friend stage. You guys would be mutuals, but you never really hung out as you did with the other freshmen. Over time, however, he would just learn that he felt happiest with you, whatever that meant. Your friendship would likely start sometime after his overblot, perhaps through your nagging to ensure he was okay… by the time you needed his assistance when Azul took over your home, he wasn’t that upset at the prospect of bringing you in, although he acted like it.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Yes!.. I feel like that’s one of his key components. He doesn’t have a set way to cuddle, but he does enjoy turning you into his pillow.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

I feel that Leona certainly can cook and clean, but why do that when he can have Ruggie do it? However, unlike lions in the wild, he is not a man who is willing to share. He expects to be together forever, so yes, he would want to settle down. He likely goes on to get a job provided by his status, but if you were a house-partner, and needed help, he would lend a hand (grumbling the whole time.. although, he doesn’t mind.)

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

I feel like you would have had to do something genuinely bad to get him to go to that point. He feels safe and secure with you, so in this situation, you probably broke his trust in some shape or form. He wouldn’t be the kind of person to do a long sappy monologue of how sorry he was, he would say it simply, in person. He wouldn’t think it through too much, the moment he finds out what you did, it’s too late. So pls don’t go and hurt him :(( AHH

After the break up though, he’d be a silent mess. He didn’t cry about it but just got quiet. He finally became vulnerable with someone, and now he feels kind of lost. He probably wouldn’t get with anyone for a while after, but he also wouldn’t spare you a second glance.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quickly would they want to get married?)

I don’t think he cares all too much for terms. Married, engaged, dating.. even friends (to an extent.) He doesn’t mind what you call him, as long as your his. He’s committed to the relationship, and if you want to get married, he’s on board… But it’s not like things need to be rushed in his mind.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Surprisingly, pretty gentle. He’s smart enough to pick up on what his partner can handle. Male or female, if they’re tough, he might engage in more rough playful activity. Although he won’t pounce on you per se, he’s more than willing to indulge in any energy bursts that consist of you attacking him. However, if you’re on the weaker side, he’d be more cautious. He might tease you for it, but he’d never be upset at the fact you can’t wrestle him. If you’re still energetic, he’s still willing to let you attack him, but don’t expect him to use his full strength against him.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

He loves hugs! But only from you. His hugs entirely depend on the situation, but most of the time, he’s not a fan of short side hugs. The first time you tried to give him a quick hug to say goodbye, you ended up with a lion clinging to you for a good thirty seconds, until you grumbled, tugging his hair. He will only really initiate hugs in private, which soon turns to him falling asleep in the crook of your neck. However, if he’s feeling a wee bit uncomfortable or jealous, especially around someone like Malleus, he might pull you in just a bit closer.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

I don’t think it’s a big thing for him. One day either you mumble it or he does as one of you falls asleep, and that’s that. It’s just another way to express his affection, similar to him rubbing against you. I don’t think it’s commonly used in beastmen relationships either way since they have so many other ways of expressing their devotion. (EX: their courting rituals instead of just confessing like most humans.)

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Despite how he acts, it’s pretty obvious he has some childhood insecurities which never got fixed. Seeing you devote your time to others may slightly annoy him, especially if he’s tired, but he won’t stop you. However, if you’re gushing about how cool someone is (especially if it’s someone he doesn’t completely like.. cough.. a certain.. lizard..) he probably will get jealous. He knows better than to control your relationships, but anytime you’re around certain people, he will have it known you're taken, his scent rubbed off on you. Why was his jacket around your shoulders? He didn’t usually do such things randomly… Maybe he was feeling hot?

He wouldn’t outwardly admit he was jealous until you confronted him about his odd behavior. To which he would just grumble, and say something along the lines of, “That lizard doesn’t deserve your praise.”

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Cute small kisses :3 Mostly on your face, shoulders, and neck. At times, he can’t help it, and his rough tongue rubs against your skin.. if you yelp, he will never recover. He’s not very used to receiving affection, but he likes whenever you kiss him goodbye on his cheek. Or when he’s sleeping in your lap and you kiss his forehead. Honestly kiss him anywhere and he’d fold.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Well.. he’s not.. super fond. Despite his annoyed attitude, he does adore Cheka, in his own way. If he didn’t want him around, he could have easily scared him a while ago, and the fact that he just sits there grumbling as he gets crawled over makes you slightly giggle. He’s made it a point to never treat a child poorly, after all, he knows firsthand the effects of what that can do. The constant rumors and murmurs circled through the castle. However, you won’t see him actively seek out being around kids.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Nonexistent he’s in a coma </3

The time you spend your first morning with him would be when your dorm is stolen. He finds the way you whine at being woken up early to be slightly endearing and then continues to grab your cat by the scruff as he also complains. I think the way mornings go could vary greatly, if there’s training that day, he’d want you there- Even if it’s just to doze off while his classmates practice. But when there’s no training, he will be keeping you in bed for as long as possible.

Morning classes..? Professor Trein would surely understand if you were a little late.. maybe…

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Since the Savanna can get rather cold as night falls, he uses that as an excuse to have you as close as possible. His blankets are more than enough to keep the two of you warm, but he isn’t complaining at the convenient excuse. He doesn’t do much to get ready, just gets changed and brushes his teeth, falling in bed.. if you have a long routine, his gaze would just be trained on your back until you finish.. or until he gets fed up and drags you to bed himself.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

You learned the biggest piece of his life during his overblot, so there’s not all that much to share. But as time goes on, he doesn’t say anything per se. He might talk about his childhood memories, but he won’t straight out say he was insecure. However, once you two have been together for a while, you notice more… vulnerable moments. When he lets his ears droop, when he wants to be quiet, and when he just needs a hug. He doesn’t hide it anymore, he doesn’t have to it when it comes to you.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

He gets annoyed fairly easily, but it takes quite a force to get him fully angry. You’ve only experienced it firsthand during his blot. You later found out from Jack that Leona had gotten angry during training once… when his members were being too reckless and hurt each other. You teased him for a week about how he was soft for them.

He was going to kill Jack.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

He remembers.. everything. He won’t outright say it, but now and then he’ll do something that shows he remembers. Getting your favorite drink, or snack, pointing out whenever he sees something he knows you like. But somehow he knows things you didn’t tell him… that mole that’s hidden beneath all your clothes..?

You certainly didn’t tell him that.

But you were pretty sure you knew who did.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

I don’t think he has a very specific favorite.. but a fond memory would probably be the first time he held you while you slept. He would never admit it, but his heart was racing as he dropped his arm over your body, pulling you towards him.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

He trusts you to handle yourself, especially when he was raised around strong women and men. However, he is attentive, always keeping an eye out for you… especially if unsavory people get a bit too close. If he needed to protect you, he honestly could just walk behind you, lay his chin on your head, and whoever was bothering you would skedaddle. Physically, he doesn’t need protection. But whenever you tell people to leave him alone when he’s in a bad mood, he really just wants to bite you (romantically…?)

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

He likes to keep things lowkey. He wouldn’t throw an extraordinary party, but he will never forget dates that are important to you. He (or Ruggie with Leona’s card) is pretty good at gift-giving, after all, he knows what you like. If it is him actually getting the gift, expect it to be something you were genuinely eyeing. You weren’t even sure how he noticed that. For everyday tasks, he can be a bit lazy. But if it’s something that matters to you, he’ll get up and do it.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

His tongue. You don’t mind when he licks you, but when he does it over and over in the same spot.. it hurts. At times, his natural instinct takes over when you get hurt, and he goes to lick a scratch, but the moment you pull back from his rough tongue, the atmosphere grows incredibly awkward as he pretends he didn’t just do that.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

He does not care. He keeps up with fitness, but that’s more to keep himself strong. He doesn’t really care for anything else.. and honestly, sometimes he wears atrocious outfits just to get a reaction out of Vil.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

For a while, yes. If you two were to separate, or something were to happen, he’d struggle for quite a while. Sleeping alone isn’t the same once you’ve had a warm body next to you for the past while. He would find new places to sleep. Places that didn’t reek of you.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

His ears and tail are expressive. He is usually pretty good at keeping them under control, but with you, he’s feeling all sorts of new things.. and he can’t hold back the way his ears twitch. When you first tackled him in a hug, his tail went completely stiff and straight, poofing up.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

He doesn’t mind too much if you’re not entirely independent, but he can’t stand when people can’t do anything for themselves. Sounds sort of hypocritical coming from him… but he grew up around both men and women having to do their part, so having a partner who genuinely can’t do anything is a bit off-putting for him. (Unless of course there are reasons for that!! For if you’re sick, disabled, hurt, etc.. he would gladly help out his ill partner, but having someone who just pouts and refuses to try is frustrating to him.)

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

Well… the main one being he just is always asleep is definitely there. But outside of that, I think he just really.. really likes to cuddle. Before he met you, he was the kind of guy to sleep with a pillow held tightly in his arms.

holy yap feast..

#disney twst #twst x reader #twst wonderland #twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #twst drabbles #leona kingscholar #twst leona #leona kingsholar x reader #twst imagines #myomie♡

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inthehouseoffinwe · 3 days ago

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Essay timeee! (For vibes more than anything else, I’m bored.) Celegorm wanted Luthien’s hand but would never have assaulted her, and the reason is in why he wanted to Marry Luthien at all. Lemme explain.

(I will get to the ‘Celegorm was enamoured by her’ section later on. But this will explain my thoughts behind that part.)

Key:

Yellow - Luthien specific

Pink - C+C’s goals

When we look at this part, we have to consider what Celegorm and Curufin’s goals were. Sure, Luthien was beautiful, but the intention behind the marriage was entirely power based. Marriage as a form of alliance, as was historically common across the world. So why is that?

Celegorm and Curufin wanted the Silmarils. But they knew to get anywhere near Morgoth they’d need the full might of the elves behind them. Marrying Luthien would have given them control over the Sindar’s armies - especially bearing in mind they were the probably the largest or next largest group after the Noldor.

But even before this, let’s look at what prompts this thinking at all.

This seems to be a direct result of Finrod’s perceived failure. Say what you will, I’m sure there was some closeness between Finrod, Celegorm, and Curufin for him to so willingly let them into his city. Even aside from a good heart, I take it to mean they were friends. A friendship that somewhat persisted into the First Age.

Finrod goes to get a silmaril with Beren. Pretty much a suicide run to begin with, but more to the point, they *know* what Morgoth can do. They’ve seen Maedhros’ scars. The long term impacts of his torture. Know they were lucky Maedhros was intentionally kept alive.

Morgoth has no reason to keep Finrod alive as far as they know. So even if he got past the mass of orcs and other creatures, the moment he came across Morgoth, and Morgoth found out he wanted a Silmaril, he’d be dead. (Hopefully. The alternative is so much worse.) If he wasn’t already.

Essentially, C+C have no reason to believe in his success.

So what do we do. We have an oath (whether you believe it’s self imposed or not, they certainly believed in it.) We have a dead cousin. We have Morgoth’s biggest victory yet that just decimated the Noldor.

Then Luthien arrives and their political brains start turning. Because say what you will, both of these brothers are clearly smart when they want to be, and definitely politically ambitious.

…and now we have a way to potentially take down Morgoth.

Luthien’s hand in marriage is a rudimentary version of Maedhros’ Alliance in the Battle of Unnumbered Tears, but in a way that would make it very difficult for the Sindar to stay out of it entirely. Especially if their princess is living with a Noldor prince in the line of fire.

They don’t want to start a war with Thingol, that would immediately weaken their standing across the Noldor and take away their claim to the Sindar’s armies. Thingol would put all his resources into saving his daughter from the Noldor, very much not what they want. They need his power as leverage over the other Noldor Princes - even as far as Maedhros and Fingon - for total compliance from all the Elven factions.

If they were going to harm Luthien physically to threaten his compliance, they’d have done so already. And more to the point, they know it wouldn’t work. Everyone knows Thingol loves his daughter. Hurting her or threatening to do so won’t force his hand to compliance, rather the opposite. So they need another way.

And I think their idea was physical separation of father and daughter. Like. “Accept me as Luthien’s husband and I’ll let you see your daughter again.” Kind of thing.

Hence locking up Luthien serving a double purpose. Keeping her nearby for if Thingol agrees. And using her as a political prisoner so to speak. “We already have her locked away here. Don’t think this is an idle threat. If you don’t agree, she’ll stay a prisoner. If you agree, at least you’re ensuring she gets a good life as a princess and you can see her too… if you comply.”

No where in this passage do we see any physical threat towards Luthien from the men. The focus is always on how to convince Thingol to agree, not on traditional Elven marriage. Because nothing about this is traditional. It’s entirely a power grab, no matter the reasons, and a first look at elves potentially doing what would become common human practice. Marriage for alliance.

Now I’m not defending C+C’s actions here, you don’t go locking up women and marrying them via a father’s agreement against their will. And I think if they’d explained their plan to Luthien, or at least their problems, we could have gotten something from that, even if not exactly what they wanted.

Some of you might be thinking ‘Sakura. You’ve completely ignored the earlier section about Celegorm and Luthien’s meeting.’

Not at all. Let me explain.

There’s no doubt Celegorm did find her beautiful, but based on his actions in the following paragraph and that her beauty is never mentioned regarding his intentions behind the marriage, I don’t think she was in any danger.

Or there would have been some indication or reference to allure or beauty on Celegorm’s part. But after this one line, we don’t see any reference to it again, even as Luthien escapes.

I’m not saying beauty didn’t play a part at all. But I am saying his ‘enamour’ with her didn’t turn him into a predator. Celegorm is many things, but this isn’t one of them.

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prophetictattoo · 21 hours ago

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the arnoult family (this sim's family) + extended lore under the cut

charles, ceo of an investment banking firm + comes from a long line of wealthy businessmen. he has a sort of friendly appearance + demeanor so he keeps a happy work place and client base but.... well he's rich so he's evil. very ruthless but will backstab you with a smile. very ambitious. pretty short, i imagine he's like 5'4 lol. imagine this guy bossing you around LMFAOO i could never take him seriously..

anjali, charles' business partner turned wife. deals more with international affairs + keeps clients happy, she's very sly and passive-aggressive but has so much charisma you only realize after the fact that she was patronizing you. has a very great and very dry sense of humor but also a very commanding presence (unlike her husband) so she's always there to help with very sensitive business dealings. honestly does love her children even if she paid somebody else to raise them (carlisle is her favorite child though + he's such a mama's boy). also when i was imagining her voice all i could hear is malory from archer so just imagine that..

charles, first born child and oldest of the two twins. named after his father. very good looking + charming and he knows it. given that he was the first born child, he was taught the ropes of the company very early on in life. it comes easily to him, he has so much charm and charisma that being in control of workers + bossing people around feels like second nature. deep down investment banking is absolutely not what he wants to do with his life but it's convenient and pays for his expensive lifestyle so he has no problem putting up with it. married but (kept a secret from his parents) is in an open marriage since it was one out of convenience + status. sleeps around the office (and the whole of nyc let's be honest) for sureeee

rosamund, youngest of the two twins. unlike the rest of her siblings, has no interest in the family business. works in the office anyways due to familial expectations, i imagine she deals with people moreso than with finance. is quieter compared to charles + henry, she's not shy but chooses her words carefully and is very picky with the company she keeps. loves a good dinner party and LOVES to host. is aroace but is both expected to marry for status and have children born into power but also not in a very accepting family so she feels she has to date to appease her family. working a job she hates + with a life she hates is eating away at her but she has enough money + status to do anything with and prefers the comfort of a cushy lifestyle too much to change anything.

side note she is soo pretty.. ts4 genetic system actually worked well for once. she came out with this bone structure. obviously had to change quite a lot of her other features (the genetic system isn't THAT good) but i was impressed..

henry, middle child and (secretly) future ceo. all of these characters are horribly mean you have to understand but henry is by far the brashest about it. his other family members want to at least appear nice but he has no problem demeaning the staff + is flashy with his wealth. the kinda guy where if you were to piss him off in a video game he would be like MY DAD OWNS ROBLOX I'LL GET YOUR ACCOUNT BANNED. piss poor people skills and has no intention of changing. is rude and has no problems with being rude (however is close with his sister.. despite this family not being a very loving or close one) however despite this he's highly intelligent + is a powerful asset at his family's company so he will eventually be given the position of CEO when his father retires, which will certainly cause a riot between charles and carlisle (however this has not happened yet, both think they still have a chance)

also just a little tidbit, all of the siblings inherited their poor eyesight from their mother but all of them wear contacts except for henry

carlisle, youngest child. self-serious, overeager, deeply pathetic and highly ambitious. has every intention of making a name for himself professionally but is not taken seriously in his workplace due to his age and relationship with his family. while the rest of his siblings had their college tuition paid for and instead of taking it seriously partied the whole time, carlisle took school very seriously and completed law school early. is very blunt and rude to his colleagues at the office and flirts with all of the women there (but is the kinda guy who thinks just being mean is flirting). he's the kind of guy who patronizes you and makes you feel stupid for just asking a question. has an interest in fashion and likes dressing up. his casual outfits he wears at home are probably super expensive too like $200 for a tshirt to wear to bed i imagine.. actually no he's definitely the kinda guy to wear a robe.

also my only frames of reference for what wealthy people are like are archer, american psycho and wolf of wall street so my scope is limited here.. but imagine carlisle as a sterling archer type but less blunt like he 100% has 5 dark black turtlenecks and 5 slightly darker black turtlenecks and will NOT let his butler live down a mix-up between the two

scar on his nose is from a car accident in his childhood that involved him + henry (scar on henry's chest would covered by his shirt anyways but i forgot to put it on his sim.. LOL) and the family's driver while on their way to being dropped off at school.

#the sims i've made #show us your sims #cas portraits #maxis mix #sims 4 screenshots #ts4 #the sims 4 #the sims #simblr #ts4 simblr #realized that charles and henry are names from the secret history that wasn't intentional..#i just wanted rich sounding names

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gcddcsscs · 2 days ago

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mary loved listening to his deep voice. it was enchanting, lovely and yet so powerful. she fell in love with this man, with her king. she smiled and whispered: "and i will give you everything, august. i promise you. i shall bear your heirs, have my body swell with your seed, my breasts doubling and filling with strong milk to provide strong food for your son. i want to give you a beautiful boy, who shall once rule this kingdom."

it was true, her words were genuine. she wanted august to see his line thriving for many more generations. she may not be of royal blood, but her heart was pure and she would certainly give him anything he ever wished. her moans increased as she just felt that he was about to fill her ass with his own seed. she was a complete mess but she loved it. she was loving all of this already.

as he called her his, something deep grew in her heart. she was proud, in love and desiring to show him how she would be the best wife he could dream for his life. she whispered: "i am yours until i die, august. i promise you that. i won't leave you, i will be here. for you, for your needs, your desires, your fantasies. for all of you."

she felt him cumming in her ass, another new sensation to her that she grew to love. her smile grew as she whispered: "that's it, my king. empty yourself in me, release the tension, the desire, the frustration, the anger you've had all this time. release all of this in me, i can take it. and i will ensure that you never feel this way anymore." she promised, relaxing in his arms.

as he pulled away, mary slowly turned around to lie on her back. her legs were opened, both holes now leaking with his cum. her breasts were reddened, tensed. nipples were hard and her face showed tired features but with a peaceful smile. she felt her heart racing as she couldn't believe that was to marry him.

"i want to marry you as soon as possible, august."

August felt a surge of possessive pride course through his veins as Mary cried out his name. Her body trembled beneath him, her pleasure evident in every shudder that passed through her delicate frame. The tight grip of her ass around his cock was divine—a sensation he wanted to commit to memory forever.

"That's it, my queen," he whispered against her ear, his breath hot against her skin. "Let go completely for me."

He maintained his steady rhythm, savouring how her body yielded to him so perfectly. The sight of her, flushed and spent yet still taking him so beautifully, nearly pushed him over the edge. But August wasn't finished with her yet.

"You are everything I've ever wanted," he murmured, pressing kisses along the curve of her shoulder. "A queen worthy of standing beside me. Strong. Beautiful. Mine."

His hands moved to caress her sides, feeling the softness of her skin beneath his calloused palms. The contrast between them, her softness against his hardness, felt like destiny.

"I will give you everything you desire," he promised, his voice low and intimate. "The kingdom, my protection, my devotion… all of it belongs to you now."

August increased his pace slightly, feeling his own release building. The tightness in his balls grew almost unbearable as he watched her, marked by his passion, her neck bearing his love bites, her ass taking his cock, her thighs still wet from her earlier releases.

"You're marked as mine now," he groaned, feeling himself reaching the precipice. "Everywhere. Inside and out."

With a final powerful thrust, August buried himself deep inside her and let go. His release pulsed through him in waves, filling her ass with his seed. The pleasure was blinding, consuming, unlike anything he'd experienced before. This wasn't just physical satisfaction; it was something deeper, more profound.

As the last tremors of his climax subsided, August slowly pulled out, watching with satisfaction as a trickle of his cum leaked from her well-used hole. A smirk played across his lips as he admired his handiwork, her body thoroughly claimed by him in every way possible.

#isles of man #august & mary

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shihlun · 2 days ago

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"John Berger: The Screenwriter as Collaborator" (1983)

From: The Cineaste Interviews: On the Art and Politics of the Cinema, pp.298-306.

Interviewer: Richard Appignanesi

Cineaste: How did your collaboration with Alain Tanner begin?

John Berger: I first met Alain Tanner in the mid-fifties. I was living in London at that time, working as a journalist and an art critic, when Alain came to London to make his first film under the auspices of the British Film Institute. Alain and another Swiss director—Claude Goretta, who is now as well-known as Tanner—made Nice Time, a twenty-minute film about Picadilly Circus in the center of London at night. They filmed continuously, from about 10:00 p.m. ’til about 4:00 a.m., when the last prostitutes went home. I was very impressed by the film when I saw it. Lindsay Anderson, a friend and supporter of Tanner’s, suggested that I meet him, and that’s how I first met Alain.

In later years, although he had no possibility of making more films, Alain used to come back to London. I remember one time he was working in the shirt department of Harrod’s, one of the most fashionable department stores in London, selling shirts. In the evening he would come to our home and have supper with us, and we used to talk about poetry, because Alain is really interested in poetry, as well as films.

Some six or seven years later, when I had left London and was living for a while in Geneva, where Alain lived, we used to meet and talk. At that time he occasionally was making films for Swiss television. One of these was a thirty-minute film about the architecture of Chandigarh in India, which had been built by Le Corbusier, another Swiss. Alain asked me to write the commentary for this film, which I did. The kind of commentary I wrote, although we didn’t realize it at the time, was perhaps a little prophetic of some other things we were going to do. Instead of writing a descriptive commentary about the architecture, what I used were quotations from poets and political theorists which were placed in juxtaposition—sometimes ironic, sometimes confirmative—of what was seen on the screen.

Later, Alain had the opportunity, aided by French television, to make his first feature film, Charles: Dead or Alive. He discussed it with me quite a lot, but I didn’t actually collaborate with him on it. Since that film was relatively successful, he was able to raise more money from producers to make his second feature, La Salamandre. I collaborated with him on the scenario, and that’s how it all began.

Cineaste: Can you describe your role in that continuing collaboration?

Berger: It’s very difficult to answer that kind of question, because in the answers there is always a mixture of natural modesty and a kind of loyalty. When two people have collaborated on, let us say, three-and-a-half films, in addition to being very old friends, that question is a bit like asking a married couple, “What is your role in your marriage?” It’s possible to do so, perhaps after you've had a divorce, although even then it may not be the truth.

The best I can do is to very briefly describe how we work. First we discuss an idea together, and then begin working on a scenario. I suppose that most of that work is mine, although what is fed into it is also Alain’s; but in the writing of the scenario, in a purely physical sense, I play the major role. When it comes to turning that scenario into film, it is certainly Alain who plays the major role. I’m not usually present at the shooting, because I would have no function to serve, and, in such circumstances, the fewer people hanging around doing nothing, the better. When he arrives at the rough cut of the film, I see it, and then sometimes we discuss how to improve it—perhaps it means cutting out a sequence, or shortening a sequence, or changing the order of the sequences—and at that moment I make a small contribution.

Temperamentally—and I suppose this comes very near to that marriage question, so I hesitate really—but Alain has a very strong sense of film style, and, in cinematic terms, a strong sense of imagination. What perhaps I offer is a strong sense of form, of how all the parts must fit together and add up to a totality. I think that is a fair description of our two characters in relation to one another.

Cineaste: Tanner’s films reflect a sense of bittersweet, disappointed promises, or, at best, very small gains in consciousness. Do you share Tanner’s disillusionment with political panaceas?

Berger: Well, I think what you have described as Alain’s disillusionment with current politics applies to the last film, to Jonah, but I don’t think that particularly applies to La Salamandre, and certainly not to The Middle of the World. Jonah was a film about what happened to the generation of sixty-eight during the seventies, and it is not possible to take such a theme without—I would rather reject the word “disillusionment”—a certain re-examination of hopes that perhaps, marvelous as they were, in retrospect appear too facile.

When we talked about Jonah, before the script was written, we described it to ourselves as a film about individual dreams of transforming the world. The image we used was that we would try to show this dream like a large colored square of silk on the ground, and then the air would come in under the silk and blow it up, so it became almost like a tent or a canopy. Then, we said, we must take that tent down, bring it back to the earth, at its four corners. In a way, that is the movement, the melody, of that film. We continually are seeing a colored hope rise, and then pinned back onto the earth—the earth here functions as a kind of reality principle. This melody, this counterpoint of hope and realism, is what the film is about, but I don’t think that quite adds up to disillusionment.

Cineaste: Would you describe the films you’ve done with Tanner as Marxist?

Berger: I think that’s for the viewer to say. All I can say is that I think both Alain’s and my own attitude to the world and to contemporary reality are enormously influenced by Marxism. The way that we see society, and individuals in society, is continually illuminated by the Marxist analysis of society and history. I don’t think there is very much political difference between us. We might, I suppose, take a different attitude to some particular event. I haven't, for example, talked recently to Alain about Iran. Maybe we would find we are not in total agreement about an interpretation of recent events in Iran; I don’t know. But I don’t think there are any essential differences between us.

Cineaste: Tanner has described his own political views as those of an undogmatic Marxist. Does such a formula describe the predicament of the non-activist or the artist?

Berger: Marxism has contributed, and still contributes, a great deal to his vision. At the same time, he is certainly undogmatic and unsectarian in his Marxism, so I would agree with that definition of Alain as a person and as a thinker. Whether his view of the world would be different if he were an activist—yes, clearly it would be. And, if his films were primarily films which encouraged political activism, they would be different films. The films that we have made together are more reflective films.

If one thinks of films whose aim is to politically activate, although not in a crude way, one obviously thinks of Godard, especially later Godard. Alain and I share an admiration for Godard, and we follow his work with great interest. My own formulation about Godard is that he is the great film critic of our time, but, unlike most film critics, instead of writing his criticism in words, he makes films which are criticism of film. Alain, on the other hand, is essentially a storyteller—it’s a different function.

Cineaste: Tanner’s films seem very marked by a consistent sense of the absurdity of human behavior. There’s a foolishness, even a lot of clownish behavior, which seems very important to him. Do you share this preoccupation?

Berger: In La Salamandre, for example, that scene in the forest when the two friends suddenly break into an absurd kind of song and dance, is a very obvious scene of the type you must be referring to. But I’m not sure that the function of that scene is simply to show the absurdity of human behavior. It seems to me that that is actually a lyrical moment. It is a lyrical moment about hope, but also about disappointment, and I think hope and disappointment can exist together perfectly without adding up to absurdity.

In fact, one of the great illusions of the left is the belief that everything can always be resolved, that one doesn’t actually often have to live perhaps a whole lifetime with contradictions, that one has to at one level live a kind of dualism. With the left’s impatience about this—from which many things spring, including sometimes absolutely disastrous things—there is a tendency to think that, when those contradictions are allowed to exist in a story, one is talking about absurdity. I don’t think one is talking about absurdity, I think one is often just talking realistically and maturely about life.

This particular aspect, however, does point out one difference between Alain and me. You see, all of Alain’s films, up to now, have been set in Switzerland. Alain has a particular view of Switzerland, one which I would almost define as a love/hate relationship. He is compelled, again and again, to come back to the Swiss experience. The history of Switzerland and the nature of Swiss society, seen within the confines of the Swiss borders and with an awareness of what is happening beyond them, leads to a certain sense of the absurd.

Let me give just one example. It’s very easy to knock Switzerland. Everybody knows all the jokes about the Swiss and their cuckoo clocks, their bankers, the gnomes of Zurich, and their quite cynical international monetary policy—no more cynical than any other capitalist country, actually. At the same time, Switzerland’s army is a civilian army, in the sense that every man is conscripted and must serve in the army for one or two months every year, depending on his age, and he keeps his rifle and ammunition at home. And this works! There aren’t any incidents; these arms aren’t used; there are no insurrections, no protests.

On one hand, that is, in a sense, an achieved ideal, because this is a civilian people’s army, in which the soldiers keep their own arms, democratically, in their homes. On the other hand, given what Switzerland is—a super-consumer bourgeois capitalist society—this is also an absurdity.

Now, Alain’s view in these films is, as I say, rather confined to Switzerland. My own view is not confined to that. This is not to say, necessarily, that my view is superior, but Switzerland as a country interests me less. My view is wider, not necessarily deeper, but a wider one, and this means that perhaps I have a view which is far more conscious of the tragic than of the absurd. Naturally, if I collaborate with Alain on a film, I accept his framework; what goes into the frame is different, and at least part of that is my contribution and carries with it my view of the world. But the frame, the essential frame of the location, is Alain’s.

Cineaste: That leads to the question of why you, as an Englishman, born and bred, choose to live outside of England and the United Kingdom?

Berger: [Laughs] Well, that’s a question which is very difficult to answer briefly, because it would require a large autobiographical conversation. I mean, I’ve lived outside of Britain now for about twenty years, and I had the idea of leaving Britain long before that, but I didn’t quite see the opportunity of doing so.

The very simple answer is, I feel far more at home on the continent than I do in Britain. My grandfather came from Trieste, so maybe a kind of atavism is at work here. I very much like being in Slav countries; I think I understand something about the Slav character. But the short answer is that I feel more at home on the continent, particularly in the south and east. Not for political reasons, but just temperamentally, I feel far more at home there than I have ever felt in Britain.

Cineaste: Another persistent feature of Tanner’s films is his preoccupation with the nature of women and men’s relationship to them. For example, the woman in La Salamandre seems to represent instinctual, even nihilistic, rebellion, and the two men, both intellectuals, are enthralled by her, reduced to a kind of acquiescence. Is this view of women entirely Tanner’s, or do you share something of that view?

Berger: No, I don’t think that is really my view. As for La Salamandre, the difference between the men and the “salamander” didn’t strike me as essentially a sexual difference. I saw it far more as a class difference. The “salamander” is a working class girl, the two men are middle class intellectuals, insofar as we know about their past and their background. The story obviously would have been different, but the “salamander” might have been a man, or, for that matter, the two journalists might have been women.

In Middle of the World, once again, I saw the difference between the waitress and the man who falls in love with her as a class difference. There, the difference of class, however, was less direct, because the man was the son of a peasant, and she was the daughter of a worker. The essential difference in that film, it seems to me, was the difference between an Italian culture and an Italian working class history, which applied to the woman, and a Swiss history and a Swiss character, which applied to the man. So I would refuse those stereotypes of women being nihilistic, chaotic, tempting, and men as being sort of rational and ordered. No, I reject that completely.

Cineaste: In Middle of the World, it seems to me that the problem of normalization is portrayed through the sexual relationship between the immigrant waitress and the managerial type.

Berger: Well, that film began with Alain saying to me, “Can we make a film about an Italian waitress”—there are thousands of them working in Swiss cafes, at least in French-speaking Switzerland—“and a Swiss man who has an affair with her?” I think he added that the Swiss man should, in some way or another, be involved (in a career sense) with Swiss politics. That was all, at the beginning. So I began thinking about this very bare skeleton of a story, simply two characters, and this led me to think about the nature of sexual passion.

The first thing I wrote was not a scenario at all, but two letters, one to the actress who was going to play the woman, and one to the actor who was going to play the man. We didn’t know who the performers were going to be, but I wrote a letter to each of them, not really very much about the story, but about the nature of passion, what allows a person to be capable of passion, and what prevents a certain kind of person from being capable of passion. Obviously, not incapable of infatuation, not incapable of sexuality, but, as I see it, of passion.

The story, the drama, was essentially about this. The waitress is a woman who is capable of passion, but in this case, she does not actually commit herself to this capacity. She doesn’t do so, to put it very simply, because gradually she realizes the man is incapable of a similar commitment, incapable of passion.

Put like that, it sounds very simple, over-theatrical. As the story unfolds, however, the man proves himself capable of a kind of madness. He sacrifices his career and marriage; he is, as they say, “mad” about this woman, and yet he is incapable of giving himself up to the unknown, which seems to me to be the very eye and heart of passion. Passion is a surrender of the self to the unknown. Everything about that man had conditioned him to reject the unknown, to not allow even the category of the unknown to enter either his mind or heart. This wasn’t so with the woman, however, and so their affair ends.

So, when you ask, “Is the film about normalization?”, I don’t know. I see it as a film about passion, or, in this case, about a passion, or a mutual passion, which is not born. Of course, in a certain way that does fit into various social norms, because one could obviously say that our culture as a whole—our positivistic, empirical, opportunist but highly calculating culture—tends, in its own terms, to reject the unknown, to reject mystery. Insofar as this man is a fairly direct product of that culture, and insofar as the continuation of that culture within these rather narrow positivistic terms can be called normalization, it’s a film about normalization. But first and foremost, for me at least, it is a film about passion.

Cineaste: Can you discuss the differences between what you imagine or visualize as a film and what Tanner actually puts on film?

Berger: La Salamandre is very close to my original conception of the film. That is also true of Jonah. I think the one film which differs from how I had visualized it is The Middle of the World. But I really hesitate to talk about what those differences are, because I don’t want to criticize that film unilaterally. Also, after talking to many people who have seen it, I think that my initial disappointment in that film was, to some degree, unfounded. In other words, I now think it is a better film than I thought it was when I first saw it.

Perhaps I was disappointed simply because it did not coincide exactly with my first vision of the film. All I would add to that—because it’s something Alain and I have discussed together, more or less publicly—is that the casting of the Italian waitress did not seem, to me, to be exactly right.

Cineaste: Has your collaboration with Tanner now ended and, if so, why?

Berger: Although at the present time I’m not working with Alain, our collaboration has not necessarily ended. I think we both conceive that we might do another film together. What is true is that I have not been involved with Alain on the last film he made, Messidor, or on the one he is planning to make now, in the United States or Canada. This is by mutual agreement, although I think it was actually myself who first formulated the idea that it would probably be better for us not to work together for the moment.

The reason for this is as follows. Basically, we made three films together—La Salamandre, The Middle of the World, and Jonah. There was another film, in between, called Return to Africa, which I didn’t collaborate on, although in actual fact I did tell Alain the story upon which it is based. It was a story that more or less happened to two friends of mine, and I told it to Alain one evening in some detail, and that was the origin of that film. So we actually made three films together, and the fourth one during that time was a kind of unrecognized or unformulated collaboration.

Now, in those three films there is a kind of development. It’s not easy for me to define that development in very precise terms, but I think that from each film we learned something which we tried to apply to the next. I think the development reached a peak with Jonah. In other words, I don’t think we could make that kind of film better, and if we made another film together, there was a danger that we would merely repeat ourselves. So it was a question of beginning again from a new base, or making another journey, and at that time, after Jonah, we found ourselves in somewhat different positions about this.

Alain, I think, was more interested in making films of a looser structure, films which, in a certain sense, were more experimental in their narrative, whereas I, because of my experience in writing stories not for the cinema, had come to a different position.

Several years previously, you see, I had written the novel G, which is an experimental work in terms of its narrative. But after G, the next major fiction work I wrote, Pig Earth, was about peasants, and in writing this I found it necessary to return to a much more traditional form of narrative. Therefore, when this moment arrived after Jonah, my current thinking about narrative was tighter and more traditional, just the opposite of Alain’s.

We both recognized this, with mutual respect, and therefore decided that it wasn’t possible for us to make a new beginning at that moment. That’s why I’m not working with Alain right now. But we’re still very good friends, and sometimes we discuss his films, but in a very different way, just as friends, rather than as active collaborators. And, certainly, the possibility of our future collaboration still remains.

#john berger #alain tanner #The Salamander #La Salamandre #The Middle of the World #Le Milieu du monde #Jonah Who Will Be 25 in the Year 2000 #Jonas qui aura 25 ans en l'an 2000

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