#and uses it as a crutch to feel more powerful (like some serial killers use drinking or rituals or even personas of their own)

[captain-legarde]

I wish that more people would analyze William Afton as a serial killer, but alas I have to be the freak....

[goldentournesol]

The Receptionist and the Profiler (Six)

Chapter Six: Lifted Burdens

(Spencer Reid x f!Reader)

Series Masterlist

General Masterlist

The word reverberated around her brain for days after she heard it. Her brain was mocking her and she knew it.

Girlfriend. Girlfriend. My girlfriend.

Over and over again.

A heartbroken Y/N went home that day to an extremely livid Penelope. Y/N was the one calming her down instead of the other way around.

“How could he be so stupid?! I mean, he’s a genius, but he’s still the stupidest person I’ve ever met! Oh my God, I’m gonna kill him! A girlfriend?! He’s out of his mind!”

And although Y/N agreed with every single word Penelope’d said, there was little she could do about it now. She had shown Ashley around just like she had with every other new agent. It would have been a lot easier to hate her if she wasn’t so...nice. You know, even though her father was a serial killer and all.

She was so normal. And Spencer seemed happy around her. That’s all she could ever ask for, right? So why was it still so painful every time the three of them were in a room together? Why was avoiding all the team members’ apologetic stares as they witnessed a moment between the couple turning into a sport? Well, she knew exactly why, but she didn’t really want to give that thought the time of day.

Derek was almost as livid as Penelope when he’d learned of the new relationship. It took everything in his power to not chew Spencer out.

Spencer, on the other hand, was convinced that this was the only way he’d ever get to get over Y/N. Besides, she’s married now, what’s everyone so upset for? Is his happiness too much to ask for? Although, he did find it odd that Y/N wasn’t wearing rings on any of her fingers. He would have thought that a newlywed wife would have been much more excited to show off her ring. It was also quite strange to hear that Anderson transferred to a different unit. But he stopped himself from thinking about her too much anyway. Stopped himself from thinking about how much her eyes stopped twinkling as much as they used to. Or how her smile always seemed a little less bright than he was used to.

Stop, Spencer. You have Ashley now. He reminded himself.

Ashley was a nice girl. They’d met a few times before they began dating. He first met her when Rossi took him to the Academy to speak with some of the recruits who were interested in joining the BAU. Then, after that, he’d ran into her while he was guest-lecturing at her university. She’d been taking extra classes to get her degree faster and ever since then, they’d kept in contact. They’d met again while Spencer was on his medical leave. He had practically begged Rossi to take him to any lectures. Despite being a homebody through and through, Spencer had had enough of sitting at home waiting for his knee to heal. He needed to get out of the house and do something. Ashley had been the one to suggest a date and Spencer was shocked to say the least, but he accepted. Who was he to deny a pretty girl a date when the love of his life was already married?

Coming back to work was exciting to say the least, even if he wasn’t authorized to go into the field yet. The rest of the team still had to go though, which made the bullpen kind of eerily quiet.

He tried to spend most of his time in Garcia’s batcave to be able to be a part of any video calls with the team, despite the fact that Garcia could barely look at him without wanting to crush the rest of his bones (it’s all in the name of love, she swears). Him being in Garcia’s cave made it practically impossible for Y/N to go in there as often as she normally would. She’d normally spend her entire breaktime with her, they’d chat, eat, and watch kitten videos on repeat. But now Dr. Genius was occupying her space there and it left Y/N sulking out in the empty bullpen. 

Now, Spencer wasn’t completely oblivious to the way the team was acting around him. He’d noticed a decrease in Penelope’s affectionate terms, he’d noticed Derek’s disapproving stares, even JJ was being short with him. Maybe it had something to do with him dating the new agent.

“Hey, Garcia?” Spencer asked from his seat next to her, he was currently going over a case file as she sorted through VICAP.

“Yes, Reid?” She asked, obviously not paying attention.

“Do you guys um, not like Ashley or something?” He asked tentatively, fiddling with his pen between his fingers. That got her attention because she turned in her chair and looked at him.

“What gave you that idea?” She asked with signature Garcia concern.

Spencer shrugged and pursed his lips together, “I don’t know, you’ve all just been acting super weird since I got back and every time I’m with her around you guys it’s super awkward.”

He saw Garcia take a deep breath and she slumped her shoulders, “No, Reid, we do like her a lot. I guess you can say we just weren’t expecting it. I mean, you’d just gotten shot and then came back with a girlfriend, it was kind of...surprising.”

“Why is it so surprising? Is it so surprising that someone actually finds me interesting?” Spencer almost scoffed, that had come out way meaner than he’d intended.

“No, of course that’s not what I meant, you know that!” She exclaimed, tears already threatening her eyes, “It’s just...we all thought it would...y’know, take you a while to get over Y/N.” She tiptoed around what she really wanted to say. Spencer held back a roll of his eyes.

“Well, I am. So...so you can all stop being so weird. Besides, what does it matter how long it takes me to get over her? She’s married now, remember?” Spencer said, not even trying to hide the bitterness behind his voice.

Garcia’s face drained of all emotion all at once, “What?”

Spencer analyzed her expression before shrugging, “What?” He asked, feeling like he was missing something.

Suddenly, she began laughing in disbelief, “No, no, no. There’s no way.”

Spencer’s impatience and irritability grew, “What are you talking about?”

“Spencer! Y/N has been living with me for the past 3 weeks, you big idiot! I’m not saying anything more to you. You need to be talking to her right now, not me.” He felt as though his brain took ages to process what she’d told him.

“What...why would she be living with you?” He asked, his brain raking through all the possibilities. Garcia shook her head and refrained from speaking to him for the rest of the day. The dread set in as he realized.

He’d only seen Y/N at her desk whenever he had to leave the batcave for something. Most times she’d just send him a polite smile but they rarely engaged in any conversation. Her energy has been cut in half lately. 

Near the end of the day, Spencer trudged all the way to the kitchenette on his crutches to make himself a fresh cup of coffee. While reaching up to grab his mug, he tried to balance on his crutches but was still very wobbly. The result of his wobbliness was a shattered mug on the floor of the BAU’s kitchenette. Spencer winced at the sound and sighed a deep sigh.

He heard quick footsteps to where he was, “Is everything okay? Are you hurt?” Y/N stood in front of him, taking in the scene. He hadn’t heard her voice in days, it was the closest thing he’d felt to relief hearing from her again.

“I-I’m okay, I just dropped a mug while trying to make a cup of coffee.” He huffed frustratedly, upset that his mobility was compromised.

“Spence, next time you can just ask me or something--or someone else, it doesn’t have to be me, but I mean, I don’t mind doing it, if you asked.” She stumbled lightly on her words, cheeks reddening. Spencer smiled in response and nodded, touched at her kindness, “Now, step back and let me help you clean this up before someone gets hurt.” 

Spencer took a step back, the feeling of guilt overwhelming him as he watched her pick up the pieces and sweep the floor, “I’m sorry...about that. You didn’t have to help me out, thank you.”

Her face cracked a smile and Spencer felt the hunch in his shoulders loosen slightly, “Come on, it’s really nothing. How’s the um, knee?” She pointed slightly as she brought down another mug and began to fill it with coffee for him.

He sighed, “It’s not great. It hurts sometimes, like a lot, but it could have been worse I guess.” He shrugged, unable to keep his eyes off her captivating face. If he thought the science of reading microexpressions was interesting, reading her face was on a whole other level.

“I’m sorry, Spence, I really hope you feel better soon.” She spoke while adding the perfect amount of cream and sugar. He could tell that there was something weighing on her heavily as she seemed to drift further away as she watched the swirls of the cream dance in the mug.

“Thanks, Y/N/N. Um, what about you? Are you okay?” He asked, noting the way she immediately snapped back into shape almost as if she’d been caught slipping. Her facade was back on as if it hadn’t slipped for a nanosecond.

“Yeah! I’m great.” She smiled, not meeting his eyes, Spencer was about to ask about her current living situation when she spoke quickly, not leaving a pause, “How about I walk this back to your desk for you?”

“Um, you don’t have to do that. I can take it.” Spencer frowned, feeling already guilty enough. 

She giggled slightly, purposefully glancing at both his hands wrapped around his crutches, “Got a third hand I don’t know about, Spence?”

Spencer grinned in defeat, realizing what she meant, “Right…” He sheepishly began to walk back to his desk, is Garcia needed him she would call. She set the cup down and flashed him a smile before turning around and walking right back to her desk where she stood for a few seconds as if contemplating something then continued on in the direction of Garcia’s office.

“Garcia...I did something bad.” She confessed sheepishly stepping into the office and closing the door behind her, feeling somewhat like a child who hadn’t followed instructions. 

Garcia turned around in her chair, “Oh no, sweets, what happened?”

“I talked to him…” She flopped down onto the chair next to Garcia’s and pouted. Garcia couldn’t hide her smile and shook her head.

“And…?” Garcia looked expectantly at her.

“I don’t think I can ever get over him, Pen.” She suddenly frowned, picking at a frayed thread on her skirt.

“Well it’s not gonna happen overnight, sugarplum. Tell you what, why don’t we have a girls night out when the team gets back tonight. Maybe you could get a little lovin’.” Garcia added suggestively but Y/N rolled her eyes and huffed playfully in response.

“Yes to girls night, no to getting any “lovin’”, I don’t think my heart can physically handle anything else.”

“Ughh, alright. But um...there’s something you should know…” Garcia began.

“What is it?” Y/N pushed.

“So...you know how Reid is a certified genius and stuff...yeah...he’s quite possibly the most obtuse man I’ve ever met.” Garcia spoke.

“Yes, we know this, what is it, Pen?” Y/N asked, growing more impatient and anxious.

“I found out today that he had absolutely zero clue that you called off the wedding.” She said.

“What do you mean? How did he not know?” Y/N almost laughed at the absurdity.

“I guess no one told him. I think we all got so caught up with him getting shot that no one told him. Y/N, I’m telling you, up until 1:22 pm today, he thought you were married to Grant Anderson.” Y/N almost grimaced at the mention of her almost-husband.

“Well, what good is it now, he’s got little miss Ashley, who, by the way, IS NOT invited to girls’ night.”

But she was, of course she was. But it wasn’t just her, oh no, the entirety of the BAU had invited themselves out.

Everyone was stuck in their own little conversations around the table and Y/N felt like the odd one out. She looked up from her glass to see Rossi and Hotch deep in conversation, Derek and Penelope were in the middle of a story to which Emily and JJ were listening intently, and finally, the cherry on top, sitting directly across from her, was Spencer and his precious Ashley sitting practically glued at the hip with his arm around her shoulders. This was supposed to be a girls’ night out, and here Y/N was, feeling as miserable and insignificant as ever.

“I’ll be right back.” She said to no one in particular as she got up from the table, not that anyone noticed or heard. Spencer caught her leaving out of the side of his field of vision but Ashley quickly began telling him another story. Y/N had almost made it out of the bar when a familiar voice stopped her.

“Y/N, hey!” She turned to see none other than Anderson himself, looking quite put together and smiling very largely at her.

“Hey! Um, you out here too?” She smiled awkwardly and looked around for his friends.

“Yeah, came out for drinks with the guys from the White Collar Crimes division. Hey, you should come say hi.” He nodded his head towards a table full of men. Y/N glanced back at her table and saw that no one was looking for her so she shrugged and agreed.

She sat at the table and they all immediately brought her into the conversation, which made her mood lift significantly.

Had Grant always been this funny? She thought. As the guys settled down after their stories, Grant turned to Y/N.

“Can I get you a drink?” He offered nicely and she thought about it. She spent 11 years with this man, what could one drink possibly do? 

As they sat at the bar and chatted, Y/N noticed that Grant was being extra gentlemanly and just...nice.

“So, yeah, this is my life now.” He tilted his beer at the table they were at previously.

“They’re really nice guys, I’m glad you’re happy at work.” She smiled and nodded. Grant smiled back and studied her for a moment.

“Um, so...I was wondering...I mean, do you...are you still sure about all this?” He gestured between them, “It’s just that we get on so well and I um, really wouldn’t mind doing it all over again for you.” He ended his sentence with a genuine smile. 

Y/N’s smile faltered from a grin to a sad smile, her eyes flitting across the bar to look for Spencer, who had been keeping a close eye on her since she left in case she was in trouble. Their eyes met for a moment but nothing longer.

“Yeah, I’m sure.” She nodded with finality. Grant followed her eye-line and felt some jealousy stirring up inside.

“Wait--is this all about Reid?” Grant stared at her incredulously.

“What?! No! Of course it isn’t. We weren’t working out, I already told you.” She defended quickly, but Grant was unconvinced. He gave her a look and she avoided his eyes, “Me and Spencer are just friends, I promise. We kissed like, once, it didn’t even mean anything.”

“You kissed? When?!” Grant’s eyes immediately filled with rage, looking across the bar.

“It doesn’t matter, look, can we just step outside for a second, get some fresh air?” She tried to reason with him but before she knew it, Grant was out of the bar stool and marching his way over to the BAU’s table. Y/N followed him quickly, trying to minimize any damages.

“REID!” Grant yelled in the small bar, quickly alerting all the agents. Spencer’s worried eyes flitted to Y/N’s.

In one swift motion, Grant lunged forward to attack a still-seated Spencer, eliciting a frightened yelp from Ashley next to him. 

But thankfully, Derek was much quicker than Grant and effectively took him down yelling, “What the hell is wrong with you, man?” 

Hotch and Rossi visibly relaxed upon watching Derek drag a livid Grant outside the bar. Mortified, Y/N grabbed her things and ran out, unable to meet any of their eyes. She flagged a cab and tried to stop the sobs from tumbling out of her.

Needless to say, the next month was the most awkward month she’d ever been through. Anderson was lucky he’d only been suspended without pay and not actually arrested for attempted assault of an FBI agent. She was downright mortified after what had happened at the bar and had fully retreated into herself, having finally moved out into her own apartment. Her pickiness ended when she realized she couldn’t stay with Garcia anymore.

 Even JJ had tried multiple times to set her up with one of Will’s friends, but Y/N always refused. Invites to bar nights were turned down and ignored. Her days consisted of waking up, going to work, coming back home, pretending to unpack but in reality avoiding it and ending up sitting on the couch with a pint of ice cream. The entire team felt for her, but Spencer especially felt for her as well as felt like an absolute moron. Not about what had happened at the bar, he didn’t really care if Anderson had beat him up, maybe he deserved it for making her feel this way. 

He watched curiously from his desk as Derek and Penelope walked through the glass doors of the BAU and stood at her desk. Penelope placed a heavy cookie tin on the raised part of the receptionist’s desk, the sound making Y/N look up from her computer.

“Morning, lil’ mama.” Derek grinned at her.

“Morning, D. Hey, Pen. What are you two up to?” Y/N’s gaze shifted between them suspiciously, “And what’s this?” She referred to the cookie tin.

“Oh, you know, just your favorite homemade chocolate chip cookies.” Garcia said with a smile. She watched as Y/N’s face lit up and immediately reached for the tin but Penelope held it securely.

“Uh-uh-uhh,” Derek taunted with a smirk.

“What? Why can’t I have the cookies?” Y/N huffed.

“These, my love, are a bribe and I’m not afraid to admit it.” Penelope said with a dramatic upturn of her chin.

“Oh no.” Y/N said.

“Oh yes.” Derek and Penelope both said. When Y/N rolled her eyes and was about to refuse, Penelope opened the top of the tin and Y/N took a peek and was hit by a whiff of heavenly chocolate chips.

“Fine, I will listen to your offer, but no promises.” She tried to stay strong even though the scent of the cookies was already driving her mad.

“We thought you might say that, which is why the entire tin is the bribe.” Derek said smoothly and Y/N’s jaw dropped.

“That is low, chocolate thunder!” She exclaimed and Spencer unwillingly smiled at her reaction.

“Anyway, you get this entire tin of cookies IF you agree to come to Rossi’s tonight.” Penelope offered and Y/N paused to think about it.

“I don’t know, Pen…” Y/N began.

“Come on, pretty girl, we miss you. You haven’t been out in ages.” Derek tried. Y/N’s heart pulled in her chest, maybe she did miss them too.

“Alright, fine, fine! I’ll come.” Y/N crossed her arms, trying to hide her smile as Derek and Penelope celebrated with a hug and a cheer, “Now, give me these!” She stood and grabbed a cookie, quickly taking a bite and visibly melting back into her chair from the taste.

“See? I told you that would work. No one can say no to my cookies.” Penelope whispered to Derek as they separated to begin their days.

She finally got some motivation to empty her bags and boxes when she returned to her apartment. It was mainly because she had to look for an appropriate outfit to wear. Ever since she’d moved, she’d been picking out her work clothes and pajamas from her suitcases, rewearing all the blouses and skirts that don’t need ironing, but it’s time to start taking care of herself again. Perhaps she felt like the clothes she was wearing didn’t belong to her anymore, she decided that she’d take herself shopping soon. After a relaxing shower, she picked out a black satin blouse and tucked it into a pair of fitting blue jeans.

Arriving at Rossi’s, she took a deep breath before ringing the bell.

“Ciao, bella!” Rossi graciously greeted, hugging her tightly, “We’re all so glad you could make it. Come on in, dinner is almost ready.” Rossi’s warm greeting eased the anxiety that bubbled in her chest. She was also greeted warmly by everyone in the room when she walked in. Penelope pulled her to sit next to her immediately.

“You look stunning!” Penelope complemented, making Y/N blush.

“I agree, you are looking hot as hell, mama.” Derek chipped in, making her laugh.

“Oh, hush, you two.” Y/N rolled her eyes and accepted the glass of wine that Emily offered her. She sipped on the wine, glancing at Spencer over the rim of the glass. He caught her eye and sent her a small smile. Y/N sent him a small one back before feeling herself shut down as everyone around her started conversations. She hadn’t noticed just how much she depended on Spencer for conversation in outings with the BAU until his attention was taken away. He would always stick to her side but now he had someone else’s side to stick to. With no Anderson and no Spencer, she really had to fend for herself. All night, she felt this indescribable weight on her shoulders. She did everything to try to get rid of it.

Soon, one glass of wine with dinner turned into two, then somehow turned into two rounds of whiskey. Before she knew it, she was up dancing with Derek and Penelope in the middle of the garden. They all had migrated into the backyard after dinner, where most people were chatting and eating dessert.

“Spencer, are you listening to me?” Ashley’s voice cut through Spencer’s daze.

“I’m sorry, what?” Spencer turned to her, he’d been caught up watching them dance, secretly wishing it was him she was grabbing onto for support instead of Derek. If it wasn’t for his damn knee, he would have joined them in dancing.

“I asked you if you wanted another slice of cake.” Ashley said, with a small smile on her face. She was nice, but she wasn’t her.

“Oh, no thanks, I’m good.” He shook his head and reverted his attention to the dancing trio. She was finally smiling, he hadn’t seen her smile that wide in so long. Her laugh was heard across the garden and somehow it seeped right into Spencer’s bloodstream. The familiar feeling of jealousy creeped up on Spencer as he watched her twirl herself in and out of Derek’s arms.

“See? Aren’t you glad you came out tonight?” Derek smiled as she twirled back against his chest. 

She nodded and smiled, a tad bit too tipsy, “Yeah, I guess.”

Penelope grinned and pulled her away from Derek, “Alright! Quit hogging her, I wanna dance with her too!” Y/N laughed and wrapped her arms around Penelope, burying her face in her shoulder.

“Thank you for everything, Pen.” They swayed and Penelope squeezed her harder.

“Anytime, sugarplum.”

“Alright, I’m just about beat. I need some dessert.” Y/N said, pulling back and dragging them both to where everyone was.

While eating dessert, she watched as Spencer continued to converse with Ashley and felt her blood boiling beneath her skin. Or maybe that was the alcohol, she wasn’t sure. It was like a cloak of clarity cascaded upon her. Before she knew it, she was standing in front of everyone and speaking loudly, loud enough to halt the ongoing conversations. With her eyes on Spencer, she only ever had her eyes on Spencer.

“Spencer, I called off my wedding because of you. And now we’re not even friends. You were my best friend, the closest person to me. I don’t know what happened, but I miss you. I don’t want things to ever be this weird between us again. And--and I shouldn’t have been with Grant, I know that. There were so many reasons not to marry him, but the truth is I was ready to ignore every single one until I met you. I asked myself why I waited so long to get married and I thought I just wasn’t ready but I knew I didn’t want him,” she paused to swallow, her tears blurring her vision, “I want you. And now you’re with someone else, and that’s fine. She’s wonderful and she makes you happy and that’s fine,” A few tears escaped and she realized what she was doing, “and I think I’m drunk and I shouldn’t be driving home so if someone could drop me off that would be great.” She dropped her plate on the table and quickly made it inside, leaving a group of agents completely stunned.

And just like that, the weight she’d grown so accustomed to seemed to dissipate from its place on her shoulders.

previous chapter/next chapter

feedback is always appreciated!

taglist: @hopefulfangirl24 @spoiledtunaprincess @ellvswriting @drreidshands @pumpkin-reads @ssa-pretty-boy @thebadassbitchqueen @youareperrrfectls @literaila  @greeny-kitten @reidcm @holytrashvoidpersona @hopebaker @word-scribbless @fellintotartarus @criminalmindzjunkie @jpegjade @randomfandomshitposts @differentkettleoffishalltogether @imjusthereformggcontent @confused-and-really-hungry  @theseuscmander @purifycrowley @l0ve-0f-my-life @mrs-dr-reid @reidseidetic  @onceuponathreetwoone @mosleylanes @eevee0722 @fear-less-write-more @andiebeaword @shameleswhorehourstm @missyredbean @moonshinerbynight @mggpleasedontlookhere @midnight-snac @justpeachykeeeen @meowiemari @sizzlingclamturtlesludge @unded-bride @nazdaniels @hercleverboy @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto 

COMMENT ON THE CHAPTERS/SEND ASKS TO BE ADDED TO MY TAGLIST (so sorry if you asked to be tagged and i missed you)

[larissa-the-scribe]

Summer Showers

I mean, I had plans for today, but @meadow-roses gave me a prompt that wouldn't leave me alone, so instead you can have a semi-canonical snippet of fluff and Kathryn being a drama queen.

Not even remotely related to NaNoWriMo, no why do you ask

Story: Mercy, More Than Sacrifice

Characters: Lyn, Zo, Kathryn, Ben

There was something kind of surreal about this.

Lyn maneuvered the shopping cart into the next aisle as Zo appeared beside her, dropping off coffee filters and sliced bread before disappearing to hunt down the next list item.

They were just… getting groceries. They were staying in a house. They even had a car (kind of).

Even though she knew this was short-term, it felt so weirdly... normal. It was so mundane, after living hand-to-mouth, scrambling from town to town while trying to avoid magic-wielding bounty hunters. Or being holed up in that one rich dude’s mansion while trying to figure out the ghost invasion. Or working at a backwater inn in exchange for room and board while trying to apprehend a serial killer.

And now they were shopping for food in a grocery store, and earlier they had been arguing about what kind of breakfast foods to get—not what the best approach to handling the latest disaster was. Not discussing some variation on the ever-present quandary of “hey, if I know what is about to happen does that mean my moral responsibility is to make sure to change things for the better, or to rigidly preserve the coming events in order to maintain the known outcome.”

She wasn’t sure how she felt about this. Part of her liked it. There was something calming about it, for all the bustle and fluorescents and chill, something familiar about the murmur of other shoppers, and the background music, and kids trying to argue their parents into buying more candy.

A bigger part of her felt… uneasy. This wasn’t the way things “normally” were, right? Not for them. This wasn’t their life. They were just pretending to be someone else for a while. The peace was false. Something was going to happen.

Sighing, she shoved that feeling away and examined the shelves for the best deal on rice. Kathryn had said something about knowing how to relax being just as important as learning how to be alert. Lyn tried to ignore the disquieting worry that that ability was no longer available to her; for a distraction, she muttered to herself about how that bag was cheaper, but if you looked at the weight it was actually more expensive per ounce than the one over there, but also it was a different kind of rice, so that meant…

Rice was the last thing on her list. Finally making her selection, she turned toward the front of the store; Zo reappeared with milk and accompanied her.

Up by the cash registers, they saw Kathryn deftly closing a refrigerator door with her foot, hands full with four cans of soda. As they pulled the cart closer, she tossed one in the air and began juggling all four of them in a precise, steady pattern, high into the air.

Zo smiled. “Is that part of the training regimen you’re wanting us to get started, or…?”

Kathryn changed the pattern into something more intricate—Lyn wasn’t sure if the cashier was watching because of fascination, or because he was worried he was going to have to clean it up.

“Well, my darling padawan,” she said, her accent smoothing over the ‘r’, “this is less training than practice. You see, it’s important to keep up your hand-eye coordination, and—"she caught the cans one by one with a flourish—“it’s important to be able to do things without special powers. I’m just double-checking that I haven’t made those into too much of a crutch.” She winked at Lyn, before reaching into the cart and proceeding to dramatically juggle the contents, item by item, onto the conveyor belt.

“Naturally,” Zo said, taking the gallon of milk before she could add it to the spectacle, “it’s the only way to check such essential skills.” He was not fast enough to save the eggs, but they made it on without damage.

“And, more importantly, it’s fun.” She finished, neatly placing a block of cheese on the belt, and Lyn noticed she had arranged them by size, weight, and what items needed refrigeration.

They paid, Zo and Lyn carrying all of the groceries for “training purposes.” Kathryn had fished the soda cans out of the bags and juggled them again as they walked.

“Here,” she said, tossing one to each of them, “might as well open them now.”

“Wait, Kath—” Lyn trailed off with a yelp as Zo stepped on her foot, and she looked up to see his lips twitch in an attempt to hide a smirk.

“Ahhhhhh," Kathryn declared blissfully, "nothing nicer on a hot summer’s day than a cold, refreshing drink.” She leveraged the pull tab open with a sharp click.

There was a rushing fizz, a crackle, and a stream of sugary, carbonated soda exploded out of the can into her face, drenching her hair and shirt in a matter of seconds.

Lyn froze, teetering between bursting out laughing or rushing off to find napkins somewhere, as Kathryn blinked, standing despondently with rivulets of pale, bubbling brown dripping from her bangs.

“Ah, right,” she said, staring off into the middle distance. “The laws of physics.” Her face was deadpan, but her voice carried such a tone of resigned disappointment and disdain, as if physics were an infestation of ants that she couldn’t quite manage to get rid of.

“Oh, no!” Zo said. He switched his groceries to one arm and took the can from her, tossing it in a nearby trashcan. “That’s too bad. It seemed like you were looking forward to it. Here, you can have mine.”

Lyn watched in a sort of fascinated horror as Kathryn thanked him and took the can.

“I would say that’s very kind of you,” she said, pausing with her finger on the pull tab, “except that I suppose you must think it amusing to make a mockery of my sorry state.” She glared at him in outrage, flinging the can into the trashcan without looking. “I see you deem my sufferings to be a source of your entertainment, and so you make merry at the expense of your mentor and teacher.”

Zo, unable to hold it in any longer, cracked up, nearly dropping his groceries, and Lyn herself couldn’t help but grin.

“Oh, you laugh, do you?” Kathryn sniffed. Lyn could see the clear amusement in her half-smothered smile, even as she drew herself up stiffly. “You insult me, sir, and call it a jest. But I see nothing of humor in perfidy, nor hilarity in my own apprentice carrying on Brutus’ ignoble legacy. As penance, you can go get everyone new cans of soda from the vending machine. I know you have the money.”

“I will do so,” Zo said, bowing, still laughing, “and beg your most gracious pardon for my atrocities.”

“And you go with him,” Kathryn said, pointing from Lyn to the vending machine with a dignified and ponderous flair, like the Ghost of Christmas Future pointing to Scrooge’s tombstone. “I see your silence as betrayal, ma’am, and so do sentence you as well.”

And with that, she jerked Lyn’s can out her grip with telekinesis and swished away in high dudgeon, streams of soda still dribbling from her hair.

Despite still carrying all of the groceries, Lyn felt lighter than she had in weeks.

Ben had seen the whole thing from his position in the car. He started it as Kathryn opened the door, meeting her with a pointed stare at her bedraggled appearance.

“What?” She asked, radiating innocence. She neatly dropped the two remaining cans into the nearest cup-holders. No sense in wasting them—they’d be fine after a while. Part of her regretted throwing the other full one away, but it had been necessary for dramatic effect.

“Even if you hadn’t seen that coming,” he said, “you could have easily dodged it in at least twenty different ways. And even if you hadn’t, you could have just phased the liquid out, or used water-bending, or any other number of things to clean yourself off.”

Kathryn shrugged, smiling. “I just wanted to do things the regular person way. Go home, take a shower, do laundry. It is about time I cleaned my jacket off.”

“Really?” Ben raised an eyebrow. “You hate doing things the regular person way. You always say it takes way too much time. What were you actually doing?”

Kathryn turned to watch Lyn and Zo, already on their way back. They were each trying to balance a can on their head—Zo said something to Lyn, she retaliated by swiping at him. He ducked away, avoiding the swipe but getting caught on the back of the head by a bag full of groceries. The can toppled. Catching it as it fell, he reached up and pushed hers over and then jumped away, laughing; Lyn, despite her typical quiet reservation, was grinning widely.

“They haven’t had much time for laughter these past few months,” Kathryn said, her smile smoothing into something much softer, fonder. Sadder. “Probably even longer. And that’s more important than any training they’re expecting from me. It’s worth taking a little extra time for.”

[danganronpasurvivoraskblog]

Painters and Brokers.

[Shuichi, Maki and Himiko’s apartment, 9:00pm]

Ugh! The more we talk about this stuff, the more it hurts my head!

We’ve read up on countless stuff about Trashimoto already, and I still can’t make heads or tails of him!

Yeah, I agree. He seems to have a rather inconsistent Modus Oparandi.

Ok, so what have we found out about him so far?

I’m sure if we’ve missed any details, Yoruko could cover them for us, but this is all the written info we have on him.

Shuichi: When we was a child, he went on a trip to South-East Asia with his parents, only for them to abandon him for a reason that currently remains unknown.

Kaede: They flew to another country and left him there...!? That’s on a whole other level of cruel!

Shuichi: It got worse for him. When he tried to search for them, he got abducted. We ran away before he could be sold as a slave.

Miu: The fuck? You mean he almost got human trafficked? Is that still a fucking thing!?

Shuichi: It’s always been a thing Miu. The rate of it skyrocketed along with every other type of crime when the tragedy hit, but this was before even that. But with no shelter, no food, and nobody to go to, Hashimoto had to live on his own, so he began to earn money in every way humanly possible. Even a single penny mattered more to him than anything else. He even bargained, stole and scammed people if it meant he could get money to get off the street. Eventually, he realized the amount that he was getting wasn’t enough to help him get by, so that’s when he turned his attention to the black market.

Shuichi: He began small, but overtime, he gained more and more experience, eventually becoming more knowledgeable in dealings than anyone. He got so well known, he was even scouted by Hope’s Peak Academy to be the Ultimate Broker.

Kaede: Is that really the type of person who Hope’s Peak would scout though?

Shuichi: If you’re talented enough, it doesn’t matter who you are or what type of person you were prior to your scouting. You could be a serial killer for all the academy cares.

Kaede: That’s messed up...

Miu: Amen to that...

Shuichi: But it made sense. Hashimoto eventually became the go-to person for anything related to weaponry, assassinations, distribution, and more. He even sold a high number of drugs to Japanese slums for the hefty price of a million yen. And then there’s the mission that got him caught in the limelight.

Shuichi: Mikado Sannoji’s assassination. He was the man behind that.

Kaede: What happened there?

Shuichi: You don’t know this Kaede, but Mikado Sannoji was a scientist during the tragedy who wanted to find a way to revive a dead man with incredible power, called Utsuro. He planned to do it by creating an Alter Ego, but before that, he made one of himself. However, the AI shared all his desires, and hacked into his creators bank account, and hired Hashimoto to kill him. As a matter of fact, that same AI is a member of Organization Zetsubou.

Kaede: Great...just great...

Shuichi: The Kisaragi Foundation decided to take advantage of him next. They payed him even more money to hire him as a double agent and infiltrate Mikado’s killing game.

Shuichi: At it’s conclusion however, the Kisaragi made an attempt to apprehend Hashimoto, along with the only remaining member of Mikado’s VOID team, Iroha Nijue. Despite their differences, Nijue and Hashimoto called a truce, and for the time between then and now, they’ve been on the run.

Kaede: For that long!?

Miu: Wait a second, go back, what’s this about voids and shit? Who the hell is this Nijue kid anyways?

Shuichi: Well, her story is very much as tragic. You see, the VOID’s at the time were all kids who had previously been part of difficult situations or been raised in less than ideal environments.

Shuichi: In the case of Iroha Nijue, the Ultimate Painter, she was forced into solitary confinement in her room as a child, watched for 24 hours, as well as forced into painting all of the time. As her skills never met the expectations that her parents and family had forced onto her, her life gradually became worse. She was regarded as a 'nobody' by her family and was never allowed to be seen in public, with every day of her life focused on making her artistic skills up to their standards. She wasn’t allowed to escape the room, and any attempt she made at suicide was very quickly stopped.

Miu: Damn...Then how does this Utsuro guy fit in?

Shuichi: Utsuro’s power grants luck and fortune to other people. In Iroha’s case, her artistic skills one day began to improve dramatically, and her family finally accepted her as worthy of their name.

Kaede: Worthy!? After all the crap they put her through, I don’t know why she’d want their name!

Shuichi: To make a long story short, Utsuro disappeared one day, and in fear of her abilities draining, Iroha ran away. From then on, she met the other three VOID’s, Mikado, and was roped into the killing game. The entire thing was a setup by Mikado, and of all her VOID friends, Iroha is the only one still alive to this day.

Kaede: ...I feel kinda bad for her.

Miu: Don’t be, she’s clearly a fucking sicko to sign up for something like that.

Shuichi: I’m not sure which of you two I agree with more.

Yoruko basically told me the rest. She explained that they’ve been on the run for the 9 or 10 years since the Utsuroshima Killing Game, and this is the first sighting in that whole time.

Looks like luck is on our side!

Yeah, seems so...

Oh, but...I have a question.

Yeah?

How exactly are we going to walk around this place without anyone recognizing me? If the High Roller is where Syobai works, then maybe whoever his friends were work there too? It could be a hub of activity for them.

I think you’re right...You’ll need a disguise of some kind, or at least something that conceals your face.

Oh! I got an idea! Give me a second!

*Miu suddenly leaves the living room and slowly walks with her crutch into Shuichi’s room. She comes back a few seconds later with a certain item in hand.

Here. Try this on for size!

Huh?

*Miu puts the item on Kaede’s head.

...

Ah! Uh...um...

D-Do we have to use that? It barely even fits over her head...

Look, you said you wore that thing as a way of stopping people seeing your face. AIn’t that what we’re going for?

I’m alright with this.

I-I guess...

[possiblyimbiassed]

The Science of Reduction

In my view, John’s blog and Sherlock’s website both represent a more realistic version of what might actually have happened in the BBC Sherlock narrative; a believable kind of ‘reality’ that doesn’t need extraordinary explanations or complicated assumptions to make sense. As opposed to the big Drama we see in the actual show, these online versions - slightly childish as they may be - tell a kind of story that appears to be at least plausible. But maybe they’re also a bit more limited and therefore boring?

It goes to show, I think, that “Poetry or Truth”, which Lestrade claims are the same thing in TAB, indeed are very different concepts. As an enhanced version of reality, enriched by human creativity and emotion, Poetry can give far more interesting results than any attempt at approaching Truth ‘scientifically’. But it can also derail into absurdity, as shown by S4. 

Sherlock’s website is, in a sense, ‘scientific’; very logically constructed and categorized, brief and minimalistic. No superfluous information to be found, no dramatic embroidery of the facts. Occam’s razor. 

On the surface, the only hints of emotion being involved are Sherlock’s whining about people being stupid, predictable and boring, showing us how lonely that makes him feel. The contrast to how he comes across in the show, and its display of his ‘inner life’, is striking. But now the website has - unlike John’s blog - been taken down, which I suspect might reflect the fact that Sherlock has left ‘reality’ and chosen to go deeper into himself.

But after realising from this post that The Science of Deduction is actually still there, saved on the Way Back Machine (thanks for that, @khanhizon1999!), I took to look a little further into it, and noticed several interesting things:

1. Sherlock seems to be a very lazy ‘blogger’, who has reduced the info on his own website to a minimum, since he has only written down one single case for his readers to look at: The Green Ladder. Not even his analyses of tobacco (referred to in ASiB, dismissed by John) or perfume (referred to in THoB, when he encourages Mrs Hudson to look it up) are actually posted. For the rest of the ‘new’ cases - The Blind Banker and ‘The Serial Suicides’ (A Study in Pink) - he simply refers to John’s blog. And for The Aluminium Crutch and The Great Game he doesn’t even bother to do that. 

TBC under the cut. 

2. So, what was so special about The Green Ladder for Sherlock to both do the effort of writing it down, and then not erase it like he did with the tobacco analysis? I mean, since this case is about a guy who actually gets killed for being both superstitious and predictable (a bit like Lord Carmichael’s idiocy in TAB, perhaps), what could possibly raise Sherlock’s interest about it to the point of discussing details on his website? I bet it’s out of nostalgic Sentiment. ;) It definitely seems like this was the case Sherlock was working on when he first met John. Which we can deduce by the text message he left on John’s phone:

I’ll also speculate that he deleted the tobacco study because John didn’t like it, while he kept this one because it just might impress John. 

3. It also strikes me, however, that nowhere on this website can we read about how Sherlock can identify “a software designer by his tie” or "a retired plumber by his left hand” (PILOT) or “an airline pilot by his left thumb” (ASiP). Did Sherlock delete that as well, just because John seemed incredulous? :) Or were these claims parts of the now archived cases, for example ‘The Laughing Pilot’? 

4. The names of the cases. I used to believe that all the fanciful titles of John’s blog posts were due to his own creativity. But here we have a whole bunch of inspiring case names created by Sherlock himself:

Some of these titles definitely seem to be little nods to canon: 

The Man With Four Legs - The Man With the Twisted Lip (TWIS)

The Crooked House - The Crooked Man (CROO)

The Missing Jars - The Missing Three-Quarter (MISS)

The Abernetty Family - The Abbey Grange (ABBE)

The Purple Woman - The Red Circle (CIRC)

The Confusion of Isadora Persano is reduced to a mere title, but it’s actually taken directly from canon’s The Problem of Thor Bridge (THOR), where Watson tells us: “A third case worthy of note is that of Isadora Persano, the wellknown journalist and duellist, who was found stark staring mad with a matchbox in front of him which contained a remarkable worm, said to be unknown to science.”  

Which immediately makes me think of John’s blog post The Inexplicable Matchbox: “The situation with Isaac Persano hit the headlines, obviously. He was found, in a hotel room, surrounded by matchboxes. And he couldn't speak”. A case which Sherlock included in his Best Man speech in TSoT: “A French decathlete found completely out of his mind, surrounded by one thousand, eight hundred and twelve matchboxes – all empty except this one”. 

We never got to know what this matchbox contained, though. In the show, there’s only one worm I can think of (and no - I don’t count the maggots Sherlock shows Archie in TSoT, or the ones crawling out of Emelia Ricoletti’s dead body in TAB; they’re larvae, not worms, and they’re not new to science :) ). The one I’m thinking of is the ‘earworm’ of Eurus’ suggestions that drives Doctor Taylor mad enough to kill his family, according to the Governor of Sherrinford in TFP. I don’t know if such a thing is ‘unknown to science’, but it’s certainly quite unlikely, isn’t it?

But what about the rest of the cases? What’s with, for example, the Subdivided Crooner? :))) It’s also interesting to know that there’s a ghost at Barts’ hospital. Is that supposed to be a premonition about Sherlock? :)

5. There’s also a (supposedly) ongoing case called The Major's Cat. How many majors do we meet in the show? Well, there’s Major Barrymore in THoB, Major Reed in TSoT and Major Sholto, also in TSoT. But none of them comes across as a cat lover, though, do they? :) And this case happens before we get to know either of these majors. An interesting piece in this puzzle is a client, a poster called T Thompson who wants help with a missing cat.

OK, so this is the major - a famous boxer named T. ‘The Major’ Thompson! Clearly something more than a missing cat is going on in this case. Sherlock deduces brilliantly that his client is secretive because he wants to avoid a scandal; thus, he’s probably famous. Cats are also linked to Greenwich in the title The Killer Cats of Greenwich, which in turn makes me think of “the bloody Greenwich pips” in TGG - the episode in which the naked cat Sekhmet figures. Lots of cats here. ;)

Eventually, Sherlock posts a new comment  - possibly having to do with the case of the Major’s missing cat:

“Ha! Brilliant! Oh, very very clever! I love it when a criminal knows what he's doing. The cat was in the television! Fake screen. Brilliant.” I’d love to know what this case was actually about (apart from cat abuse) - it’s not often we see Sherlock expressing that kind of emotion :) But, anyway: more cats?! I can’t find a single dog on Sherlock’s website, which surprises me, since the show is full of them, and there’s also a few on John’s blog.

It’s also interesting to see Mike Stanford tell Sherlock about John’s blog, shortly after he’s moved in to 221B. Pretty soon Sherlock also starts to get anonymous threats on his website, combined with some ciphers, which Sherlock uses to entertain his readers. 

6. The three encrypted messages sent to Sherlock’s website by an anonymous reader - *cough* Moriarty *cough* - bring rather scarce information. I’ve tried to apply all three of the ciphers to seemingly meaningless words like “UMQRA” or “AGRA”, but of no result this far. Just like Sherlock’s declarations of the case solutions to Moriarty in TGG about Carl Powers, Ian Monkford and Raoul de Santos, I think these ciphers are the least interesting items on the website. But I might be proven very wrong of course! :)

7. Then, finally, we have the Forum, where the most substantial message is from little Kirsty Stapleton who lost her glowing rabbit to science (fully investigated in THoB). One thing that strikes me is that Kirsty asks about John “Is he a real Dr?”. Which very much reminds me of TLD, where Culverton asks John: “Are you really a doctor?”  

Also the rest of the Forum’s old comments do have some interest, even if they’re usually reduced to exchanges of a few words between Sherlock and the people who knows him: John, Lestrade, Molly, Mike Stanford, Sarah Sawyer, the fan Jacob Sowersby and long-term poster Moriarty ‘theimprobableone’. First of all we learn that Sherlock moved out from Montague street due to “disagreement with landlord”. Very strange indeed, seeing as Sherlock must be such a lovely tenant. ;)) 

We also learn that Moriarty ‘theimprobableone’ is flirting with Sherlock via his website from start; he tries to ask him out and even offers Sherlock to move in with him! In this context maybe we should remember that the last time we heard from Moriarty ‘theimprobableone’ was after John’s wedding, when Sherlock had hacked into his blog and tried to find some company online. The answer was: “i am interested but I am going out on a date”.

And - back to Sherlock’s website - there’s also Molly, trying to get Sherlock’s attention by claiming she found a tie at Barts that might be his. We also see Lestrade getting desperate over the serial ‘suicides’ and wanting Sherlock’s help, which the latter deflects. Hard to see how Sherlock is ‘married to his job’ here. :)

Sherlock’s reaction to the ‘Bond night’ is also quite entertaining:

He calls Bond ‘ridiculous’ until ‘theimprobableone’ butts in, then he suddenly begins to appreciate it more. ;)

And we do get a possible explanation as to why Sherlock takes on the dubious Belarus case of Barry Berwick: John needs the money! :)

Finally, I think an interesting little detail is that, once again, an ambassador is mentioned in BBC Sherlock - a recurring theme! ;)

Tagging some people who might be interested:

@ebaeschnbliah @sarahthecoat @raggedyblue @gosherlocked @the-signs-of-two @loveismyrevolution @sagestreet 

[alarawriting]

Inktober #19: Sling

Here’s a scene I alluded to in “Dr. Ultraviolet Meets Her Nemesis” (again, lack of functional website, cannot link because that makes the post unsearchable, but you can click on the tag to find the rest of what I’ve got for Dr. Ultraviolet.)

***

“What exactly is this… stuff?” Ultraviolet asked her sister, with a sneer that she hoped was making it clear she could be using stronger language.

“You asked for books,” Scarlett said, “so I brought you some of mine.”

Ultraviolet tried to count to 10, but Scarlett interrupted at 4. “I think you might really like Chiaoscuro. It’s about a superheroine who falls in love with a magnetic, charismatic villain—”

“It’s a romance novel,” Ultraviolet said.

“Yes. I know they weren’t your favorites but—”

“I despise romance novels,” Ultraviolet said. “Would it have truly killed you to go to a bookstore and get me something I might possibly enjoy, rather than just bringing me whatever dreck you happened to have lying around on your bookshelf?”

“There aren’t any bookstores around here. Everest drove them all out of business. I could have ordered from them, but they’re evil.”

Ultraviolet happened to know that this was absolutely true. The last time she’d been invited to attend the Villainy Connection yearly networking event for supervillains, Everest’s CEO Josh Bevel had been the keynote speaker. Given that she herself was a supervillain, this was hardly a dealbreaker for her. “Libraries exist, then. And what about used book stores?”

“Look, I went out of my way to do you a favor, Violet,” Scarlett said. “It’s not like I don’t have a lot going on. I’ve got four kids, the economy’s been slowing down and people aren’t buying houses so much lately, and I’ve been having issues with Gavin.”

From long experience with her sister, Ultraviolet knew that Scarlett wanted her to ask about her issues with Gavin, but Ultraviolet would have had difficulty caring less. “How hard is it to bring me a book that isn’t a godawful romance novel? Do I look like the kind of suburban mom who’s wasted her life dreaming of some Mr. Wonderful sweeping her off her feet?”

“It sounds like you’re saying that’s what I am.”

“The shoes don’t just fit, Scarlett, they’re on sale and you have ten pairs in your closet.”

“Fuck you, Violet. I didn’t need to come here. You know, the doctors told me you were in traction and you broke an arm and both legs and you might have fractured a vertebra in your neck, and I was worried about you.”

Ultraviolet sighed. “I appreciate that you were worried—”

“And I didn’t just bring you romance novels. This one, All The Pretty Little Horsies, is about the hunt for a serial killer.”

“What made you think I was interested in true crime, either?” They were in a private ward, but the door was open, nurses bustling around outside, so Ultraviolet didn’t say what she really wanted to, which was “I’m a supervillain, my life is a true crime story, why would I want to read about cops hunting a criminal down?” Admittedly there was a huge difference between her genius and ambitions to reshape the world in the image she wanted, and a mundane serial killer getting his jollies by killing teenage girls or something, but on principle Ultraviolet did not want to be sympathizing with cops.

“Well, it’s kind of like what you do for your career, right?”

Ultraviolet couldn’t control the exasperation in her sigh. “Only in the sense that your career involves selling people haunted houses where evil brownies will crawl out of the walls at night and devour them.”

“That… has nothing to do with what I do.”

“I rest my case.”

“Usually I don’t even sell the houses! I prefer being a buyer’s agent. The seller gets money at closing, but the buyer gets a new future. A place that’s going to change their way of life. Something that might be an anchor, a touchstone for them for the rest of their lives.”

“Scarlett. I don’t care. The point is, I’m not a serial killer, I’m nothing like a serial killer, and we are not in the same line of work. I am a scientist.”

“I thought you were an inventor.”

“I am. I’m an inventor and a scientist. All the greatest inventors were scientists.”

“Thomas Edison wasn’t.”

“Thomas Edison was a liar and a thief who stole everything he did from Nikola Tesla, among others.”

“Henry Ford—”

“—wasn’t even an inventor. Dear lord, Scarlett, what did they teach you in school?”

Scarlett glared at her. “You went to the same school.”

“Yes, but I didn’t learn anything there. Everything I learned was self-study. I didn’t actually pay attention in class.”

“Then how do you know that what they taught me was wrong?”

Ultraviolet glanced up at her IV bag, which was full, and at the clock, which was stubbornly nowhere near the end of visiting hours. “Get me some books about scientists. Preferably books where scientists are right, and everyone else is wrong, and all the people who are wrong get eaten by dinosaurs, and the scientists get to say ‘I told you so’ and end up very wealthy.”

“That’s… really specific.”

“It doesn’t have to be dinosaurs. The people who are wrong could get eaten by aliens. Or viruses.”

“I don’t even know how I’d find a book like that.”

“You’d ask at the library, you heathen. Don’t you read?”

“Yes!” Scarlett snapped. “I read a lot of things! Among them, romance novels and true crime, which are apparently not intellectual enough for the great Doctor Ultraviolet to want to sully her eyeballs—”

“Scarlett! Secret identity!” Ultraviolet whispered in a loud hiss.

“No one’s paying attention.”

“Captain Cosmic knows he dropped me. I wouldn’t put it past him to be searching the local hospitals.”

Cosmic had been trying to fly her to the Max, the ultra-secure supervillain prison that so far, no one had managed to break out of. Ultraviolet had used her nanobot lubricant on him to force him to drop her, without perhaps fully considering the fact that they were a thousand feet in the air by the time it took effect. With lubricant in his eyes and covering his hands, Cosmic couldn’t even see her to catch her, and when he’d flailed around by accident and grabbed her foot by trying to figure out where the screaming was coming from, he hadn’t been able to hold on. She’d had to use her prototype antigravity device to save herself, and it hadn’t had enough power to prevent her from hitting the ground hard enough to break most of her limbs, several ribs, and possibly her neck.

She’d already been in traction for two days, completely immobilized – chest taped, head in a neck brace, legs mummified and hanging from pulleys on poles attached to her bed, arm in a sling. She was bored out of her mind. The only entertainment the hospital offered was a television, and just hearing the sounds of daytime game shows and soap operas and Judge Jeri made her want to kill everyone in the hospital, or at the very least her immediate neighbors on the ward who wouldn’t stop watching that crap. Actually having to see it herself might make her brain fatally overheat with rage.

So when her sister had called and offered to visit, Ultraviolet had begged her to bring books, to alleviate the horrible boredom. But this… dreck wasn’t worth the name “book”. It was a bound collection of paper, containing letters arranged into words that had been assembled to produce some sort of simulation of syntactical meaning, that was all.

“I think if Captain Cosmic was here, there would be a lot more shrieking, and people begging for his autograph.”

“He has a secret identity too. He could be walking right past us dressed as a nurse and you would never guess.”

Scarlett sighed. “All right. I’m sorry I said it, Violet. But you need to stop acting like, just because you’re a genius, everything you don’t like or don’t approve of is stupid. And you could be a little bit grateful. I drove way out of my way to visit you.”

“I’m sure your conscience would have nagged at you if you hadn’t.”

“I tell you what. I’ll go to the library and get your books about scientists, and I’ll bring them by tomorrow.”

“That would be suitable.”

“And I’ll bring Alan. He’s sixteen, so he’s allowed to visit, and I’m sure he’d be thrilled to see his aunt and explain the plot of Battle Island to you, or Kraftwerk, or one of those other video games he’s obsessed with.”

“No! Scarlett, I’m not interested in listening to your offspring prattle on about whatever degenerate pastime has caught his fancy.”

“And I’m not interesting in helping a bitchy older sister who can’t even say thank you, but I’d feel bad about leaving you here all alone. So I’ll bring Alan to entertain you.” Scarlett smiled widely. “I’ll tell him that you’re feeling cranky because you’re in pain, so he should ignore any rude thing you say to him. Since you’d be incapable of asking him to stop politely, I guess that means Alan’s going to have a captive audience tomorrow.”

“Scarlett!”

“See you tomorrow, sis!” Scarlett caroled, and left the room, leaving Ultraviolet to fume about the unfairness of it all. If only she could get decent henches, she could get someone to transport her to her base, where her rapid regeneration machine could heal her within minutes. But no, the union had blacklisted her, and you couldn’t trust non-union henches. Totally unfair. Every other villain had henches lining up around the block – even the ones who routinely shot their own employees. But you mutate the henchmen into anthropomorphic sharks one time… and now, because of that idiot Captain Cosmic and because of the moronic Henchman’s Union, Scarlett was going to force her to listen to her oldest child ramble on about whatever stupid garbage he was in love with right now.

If she could only reach her crutches, she’d get out of this bed and hobble out of the hospital right now.

[el-gilliath]

Bruised

Fill for this prompt at @roswellprompts. Because this is my life and what I write. Angst, porn, feels, and serial killer AU’s. I will forever blame the curls. Michael wakes up sprawled on his stomach in his bed and just wants to close his eyes and go right back to sleep. Yesterday was a shitshow and a half, he understands completely why Max is mad. But did he really need to throw him that hard into the side of the truck. The fact that he then left them there so they had to walk back to the junkyard did nothing to help. Especially since Isobel didn’t have shoes and needed to be carried piggyback style, which did nothing to help and made a 15-minute walk that much longer. He tries to move and just hisses from the pain that shoots up his spine. He aches all over, the muscles in his arms and legs tender. The bruise on his back must be spectacular he thinks as he forces himself to move, powering through the pain. Maybe sleeping in his truck wasn’t the best option, but no way was he going to force Izzy to sleep there. And he is really not looking forward to working today but he knows he has to, he can’t afford not to. He gets up, hissing in pain as he does. He tries to put on a shirt, but that just makes him hurt all over he he settles for not. It’s a warm day, and he’s going to be hunched over cars anyway so he can go without for now, maybe get a button-up when Izzy wakes up so he doesn’t disturb her sleep. She had a rougher night than he did, it can wait. He would kill for some acetone for the pain too, but that’s also in the airstream so it’s going to have to wait. So he mentally prepares himself for a long day of working and pain. It’s something he is used to by now, he can manage. But he doesn’t get far with the first car he’s fixing before someone drives up into the junkyard. He turns around as quickly and as carefully as he can, but still winces as he straightens. And then winces again when he sees who’s there. The physical pain he can handle, is used to handle. But the emotional pain of seeing Alex Manes after the last time they parted. That one is harder. Still he waits for Alex to get out of the car. If he’s here, there’s a reason. And he will always hear Alex out. He has too many emotions wrapped up in the man not too. “Guerin.” Michael closes his eyes for a second at the sound of his last name. He wonders if he’ll ever get be Michael. “Alex. What are you doing here?” he asks and straightens a bit more, wincing as the pain shoots up his back again at the move. So he changes tactics and leans against the car he was working on. It does give him a slight reprise. “I, uh.” Alex starts, his eyes narrowing at Michael, like he’s trying to figure something out. “Spit it out, I have a job to do.” He sifts uncomfortably, holding back a wince at the move. “What’s wrong?” Alex asks. Michael just frowns at him and shakes his head, not saying anything. “Guerin. You are obviously hurt.” “What are you talking about? I’m not-” “Cut the crap. I’ve been in active combat zones, I recognize someone in pain.” Michael opens his mouth to protest, but just lets it be. Alex will never not let this go, it’s just not the person he is. “Max got a little mad at me last night and threw me against the side of the truck, okay? I’m a bit bruised, it’s okay.” What Michael doesn’t expect is for Alex’s eyes to go dark in anger, for him to stalk over as quickly as he can with the crutch and turn him around ever so gently to get a look at his back. Michael lets him, too surprised to do anything else, and closes his eyes at the sharp hiss of anger that leaves Alex’s mouth. “I’m guessing the bruise it pretty, uh, big from your reaction?” he asks silently. He can hear Alex take a few big inhales and exhales from behind him. Which does nothing to settle his emotions. Alex being angry because someone hurt him. When he walks away every time. It’s too much. “Your entire upper back is bruised. And there’s a pretty noticeable darker line right across between your cervical vertebrae. He threw you pretty fucking hard Guerin, I’m surprised you’re comfortably working with this level of bruising.” Michael snorts. “Comfortable is pushing it. Why the fuck do you care anyway?” “My caring has never been the problem Guerin.” Alex replies, letting him go and moving around so he can look Michael in the eye. Though Michael does get a touch of satisfaction at the way his eyes flit down to his bare chest. Alex has never been able to not look when he has any kind of skin showing. “You got a weird way of showing it Alex, cause you keep walking away and that shit just. Hurts.” “Michael…” “Don’t. Don’t say my name to make a point. I know how you feel about me, and you know how I feel about you. But it’s not doing any of us any good at this point.” Michael exhaled. He didn’t need the weight of the world on his shoulders right now. “Just go. Come back when you’ve figured out your shit.” Their eyes held for a minute, anguish evident in both of them. The emotional pain somehow bigger than the physical at the moment. But the connection between them wins out, and they gravitate together, their lips meeting in a soft kiss that was neither goodbye or a promise. Just a kiss to quiet the chaos. “Okay. I will,” Alex said, as they broke apart. “Oh and you can tell your brother that the next time I see him, I’ll give him a bruise to rival that one.” Michael huffed, but nodded and watched as Alex got back into his car and drove away. Max was in for one hell of a wake-up call the next time he came across Alex Manes. And honestly, Michael kind of lived for it.

[beholdthishotmess]

Reflections on 131 Flesh

I want to start off by admitting that this episode is a clear 180 from what I was expecting.  The last few have been divebombing into what felt like a spiral (badum CHING) of despair, and while there’s a bit of awkward painful bits at the beginning here, I actually found this to be one of the most POSITIVE in a lot of ways.  And a damn good sign, in the larger episode run, for what is to come.

Starting, of course, with Melanie.

There were three major things that I got from this discussion with Melanie.  The first is a sinking suspicion that Melanie could very well live where Tim, the other character who was clearly motivated by rage and anger, ended up falling.  And that isn’t a slight on Tim but as much as I love him, Tim died still bitter and still angry.  Tim died alone, in every single possible sense, and as we recall the importance of anchors, as we look back on Georgie’s words, and as we think on Literally The Most Important Horror Trope There is...

Never Split Up.

Melanie here has chosen not to go it alone.  Even when it’s hard, even when she’s livid at both of the other people here, even when her alternatives to solitude basically include at least two monsters... Melanie has decided to move forward.  Melanie approached Jon, after Jon gave her the necessary space, and while she said her piece to him and vented her spleen over what he’d done and how she felt about it, she nevertheless moved to help him and offered him the first bit of actual genuine hospitality and concern that we’ve seen to Jon all season since Georgie walked out.

The second thing I got was that this is when we’re really going to delve into the monsters a little, what it means to be a monster, how ‘human’ they are and how monstrous and where the truly terrifying bits are.  Melanie wanted the bullet, Melanie wanted her anger and the power and strength it gave her (supernaturally and normally) but she also became very well aware only after it was removed that the anger and the ‘strength’ it gave her was a double edged sword.  The anger ‘powered’ her to make Ghost Hunt UK but it was also anger that destroyed it in the end.  Her anger was the perfect tool until it ‘slipped out and hurt someone’ and now she’s ACKNOWLEDGING it.  She acknowledges what the bullet gave her but she ALSO acknowledges that it was a crutch.  She was USING it just as it was using her.  And while it was helpful and it felt good, that doesn’t make it a good thing.  (I’m reminded just a little of one of my favorite TV shows, Crazy Ex-Girlfrlend, and how they used the phrase ‘like glitter exploding inside of me’ as a sign that a character had an unhealthy obsession).

And, of course, the third is that Melanie is kind of done with the blame game.  Last season, any chance Melanie got, she threw her presence into Jon’s face, and just at the beginning of this season, she was more than willing to use Tim’s death as a weapon against him.  But whenever Jon tried to start ‘fixing’ things or seeing a bright side, she shut him up.  She didn’t want his comfort but she also wasn’t letting him take any blame or guilt from it.  When he tried to assume THAT, she was just as quick to snap back at him.  YES, Jon made a choice and YES, it had consequences.  But the most important thing came back around to where it left them then and what they were going to do and the fact that right down to it, all they have is each other.

I absolutely loved her and Helen as well.  And just, Helen in general.  Which brings me to my next point.

Namely that Helen refuses the dichotomy of human vs. monster that’s been terrifying Jon for the last season or so.  She is Helen and she is different from the Helen who she was, but she’s also still Helen.  She’s making her choice to help the Archives, making choices about what she wants to do and who she wants to be and clearly who to make friends with.  She won’t allow Jon to put her in a box or a category and she won’t let Jon do that to himself either because They Are Lies. Instead of the breezy reassurances of Elias asking ‘what is human, really?’ we got instead the cold hard fact that backs up Jon’s own words: he feels different but he doesn’t know where the differences begin or end.

But that’s true of ANYONE.  Every day, we’re constantly changing and growing and our experiences make us different people.  We’re NOT the same person who went to sleep the night before and we’re not supposed to be.  Jon’s so worried about losing who he is if he becomes a monster without realizing that one might not be the result of the other so much as Some People Are Willing To Take Any Excuse.  And even for those needs that are part of their purpose (like Michael mentioned in earlier seasons) is it scarier or less scary when monsters have very human, very understandable grudges?

Jude killed a man and ruined his life while she was still human.  HUMANS kill people and ruin their lives.  And she spared Jon’s life because she felt indebted to Elias over a very HUMAN love for Agnes and a visceral appreciation for the fact that Elias killed Gertrude.  

We’ve just had three pieces of information recently drop on us to make us SERIOUSLY consider what kind of person Gertrude was (willing to kill an innocent woman and victim who might have seen her?  Jan Kilbride?) and she even seemed to delight in it a little even though who knows how many of the Flesh’s ‘assistants’ were there willingly or not.  Gertrude was practically giggling about her explosives and making smirky comments about Lucia’s nightmares no longer bothering her, meanwhile the one person we know (confirmed) that Helen’s ever tried to kill she felt awful about.  We don’t know if she’s tried to eat anyone else OTHER than Jared.  Who’s to say she has? 

What is a monster?  What ISN’T a monster?  And how easy is it to look at what fears (literally) can make us into and use them to excuse monstrous behavior.  How easy is it to look at the world and say ‘well, I did it because that’s just what I am?’ as opposed to acknowledging that you’ve always got something of a choice.  Being different than you started, having powers, being 90 degrees from normal... is that really what makes a ‘monster’ or is it just an easier excuse?

This was backed up by Jared “Fuck your Ritual” Hopworth who likes the world as it is.  Who had no interest in changing things, and who’s even found some less horrific ways to practice his craft (look, the gym was terrifying, but the people there WERE actually happy, like, it’s fucked up no lie but he Wasn’t Actually Murdering People).  Who yeah, is a violent serial killer, no excuses here, but he’s a violent serial killer in the sort of almost mundane way that makes him bizarrely more interesting.  

There’s a lot of interesting lore things going on here, the rib bit definitely making me curious as to what our Archivist is going to end up looped into, and we’re probably going into the coffin next week because apparently 12 episodes is when a new season decides to throw us a curveball but I also think this episode had a lot of interesting shit to say about monsters and people and a reminder that these things aren’t pure ‘evil’ so much as about ‘fear’ and how that context can make for some interesting changes in the understanding of how they interact with human beings as the plot progresses.

[seersuckersocial]

Frequently Asked #1

Welcome to the first edition of Frequently Asked!

This is going to be an ongoing feature on the blog.  Some of the questions and/or statements covered here are things that have genuinely been said to my face.  That is the case behind our topics for today.  Others could come from other Atheist writers, the great and powerful Google, or maybe even eventually from readers like you.  I promise to do my best to convey my answers in a clear and articulate manner.  Now what are some questions that I get asked entirely too often?  

How can you live life without Faith?/You have to have Faith in something.

I would like to make it clear right here and now that I have plenty of faith in a variety of things.  I have faith in the fact that if my morning is not going so well than it will only get better when I spill coffee all over my work outfit or get stuck behind the school bus when I’m already running late.  When I come down with something, a state I find myself in fairly often, I place my faith in modern medicine and my wonderful primary care physician to cure what ails me.  I choose to place my faith in the Scientific Community to help me seek out answers to my questions about life, the universe, and everything.  The correct answer is inevitably 42.  I do not feel the need to place faith in a deity or supernatural being.  

It is my personal belief that the reason people feel the need to ask me this so often is rather simple.  People who do place their faith in a God are used to having what almost amounts to a crutch to protect them from the problems in their lives.  I cannot tell you how many times I have heard some rendition of the following example.  If something is going wrong in your life, don't worry, just pray about it. Give it to God. If things do get better, credit it as God's plan.  If they don't, it's still God's plan. But don’t worry.  When he closes a door, he opens a window.  This method of defining religious faith is essentially an unintentional way to absolve yourself of any kind of culpability in the twists and turn of life.  An Omniscient, All Knowing creator has known you since before you were conceived, obviously has your best interests at heart, and has basically planned out your whole life.  Why should anyone bother to gain a proper understanding of how to react to stress, depression, even death if someone else is guaranteed to take care of it for you?       

This is one major point that can get you in trouble when you deconvert or stop believing in a recognized deity.  You abruptly don’t have that cushion anymore.  All of a sudden, for what may be the first time, you are forced to be the one to take responsibility for both the good and the bad seasons in your life.  You have to start making your own decisions and being accountable for both the bounty and the fallout caused by those choices.  I don't think most people honestly understand how mentally unprepared a religious upbringing can leave you.  After deconverting, I actually had to relearn how to deal with a myriad of emotional issues that I had never really been taught to just to continue functioning.  This included learning how to properly grieve for the first time.      

How can you live a moral life without believing in a higher power?

For some reason, people tend to assume that the very second you stop believing in a higher power you automatically turn into some kind of depraved, serial killer type.  As I happen to be pretty knowledgeable on the subject,  I can honestly inform you that a lack of belief in a deity is not on the list of requirements to be one.  The truth of the matter is atheists are regarded as one of the least trustworthy demographics around.  As of this writing, I could not hold a public office in the state I live in because there is still a law on the books preventing non theists from doing so.  Think about that.  It’s 2018.  

I actually find it pretty hard to believe that most people think you can't live a good life without some omniscient being to tell you how to do it and then punish you for your missteps.  I just can't wrap my head around this presumption simply because no person exists in a vacuum.  Religion isn't the only place where a person can find morals and values.  Even if you never stepped foot in a house of worship, the laws of your government, your individual culture, and society at large will impress the rules and social mores they value upon you.  A well known example from Southern culture would be responding “Yes/No, ma’am/sir” to any elder making a request of you.  This particular brand of respect for your elders is regarded as an extremely important social value to Southern Mamas.  Therefore, they take the necessary steps to impart those values to their children.  With the aid of the infamous hickory switch when necessary.  

I’m not denying that religion does play a part in how a large number of individuals do form their personal moral fabric.  However, it's still just one part of the overall social and cultural influences that help to shape you into a useful member of society.  It is my personal opinion that if an individual can’t manage to live a “good” or so called moral life without the threat of eternal damnation hanging over their heads then I have to say they truly aren’t living good or moral lives.  But that's just me.  Atheists and other non believers, like any other group of individuals, live distinctive, unique lives and make an array “good” and “bad” choices.  

I hope my responses will help you to have a better grasp of Atheism and how non believers think and find meaning in their lives.  Please remember that these answers are only my opinions on the subjects discussed and should by no means be taken as some kind of Atheist gospel.  If you have any questions you would like me to answer, feel free to leave a comment below or shoot me an email at SouthernAtheist99@gmail.com.  

Thanks for Reading,

A Southern Atheist

[this-is-my-decline]

Red Dragon con 3 recap part 4

PART 1 - 2 - 3 

Hugh and Bryan Q&A panel summary (part 2)

Now with Hugh AND Bryan! Hugh sure looked relieved when he arrived, he thought we were holding back asking questions (what, he didn’t feel he was getting difficult enough questions? ;P)...anyway, as you surely already have heard, Bryan pretty much arrived at the panel announcing how the answer to who is the bottom and who is the top is: “THEY FLIP!”

 THE. BEST. ENTRANCE. EVER!!!

Hugh of course was flustered because: "here I was dealing with ambiguity for an hour, and then Bryan comes and says this...! Well, when I say platonic, I mean...flip.” (nice save, Hugh :’D)

-Immediately after that, Bryan got a question about Will’s role in SOTL, and how people have been worrying he wouldn’t have a role in it, in which Bryan answered something like “I think you’re reading between the lines. I don’t think we should ever lose Will Graham”. Hugh is his crutch, and they wrote the final scene of TWOTL together. They will never Abigail him. The thing is, that two studios own the rights, and well, different studios don’t mix well together..

-What did Will do after the asking Bedelia the love question: H: “I would say he compartmentalized it, but Bryan would joke that there was furious masturbation going on between them”. B: “Is there any other kind of masturbation?”

-About American Gods: Neil Gaiman is very involved in the show, and he gives feedback on everything. There was some discussion with Neil how the book was a bit of sausage party, so they needed more female energy. People didn’t realize how much misogyny there is still in the US (the audience applauded for this! H: “This is an anti-misogyny applause right?”). There is a theme of “what will men do to bring down a woman of power” in the show, and it felt especially relevant after the elections.

-Why does Bryan use bees so much in his shows? “Bees are magical. They are the very essence of life on this planet. Bees are a fantastic symbol of life, and the sweetness of life”.

-About choosing between Bedelia and Abigail to go with Hannibal on S3: Either Bedelia or Abigail would have to go. “The most hurtful thing Hannibal could’ve done to Will was to kill Abigail in front of him, that was his motivator”. If Abigail had survived, it would’ve been interesting to see a different version of what was happening with Abigail and Will, and Abigail would’ve been kind of like a Jiminy Cricket sort of character, but it wouldn’t had lasted long.

-Bryan recommends Clive Barkers books!

-Matthew Brown was like a freshman trying to impress the cool senior student Will, there was nothing sexual there, he just thought Will was this badass serial killer. “Please like me please like please like me”, Hugh about Matthew.

-About which superpower Hannibal characters would have: Will’s is empathy, Mason could transform into a pig (a fan: he already is one! Hugh: that’s why it’d be quick!”), Hannibal would have super digestion (Hugh also suggests he can turn people into worst versions of themselves), Alana’s super strength to slap the shit out of everyone.

-Bryan confirmed the person handling the NBC Hannibal social media accounts is the same person now handling the American Gods accounts! Hugh mentioned how he knows nothing about social media, but the guy is so good at his job!

-Which character would you date? B: “They’re all so damaged...different kind of messed up, but Chilton”(hey YOU wrote them Bryan!). Also Preller! . H: “Margot, that’d be interesting, for lots of reasons”

Bryan mentioned how excited Hugh was for the con where the fans are so enthusiastic and full of creativity, and they were both genuinely grateful to be at the con!

-Hugh also tried speaking some French (something about a bottle of wine?), says he’s speaking it increasingly badly but I heard people comment it was perfect. His brother & sister now actually live in France, so his family is becoming bilingual while he’s forgetting stuff.

-A fan also showed them her Hannibal nail art, and they both were really impressed. -B: “They’re fantastic! Beautiful!”, “The art of the community never ceases to amaze me!”

A question about Hugh’s advice for Will “don’t be so moody”. Then he talked about his first acting job: his dad called and said he has a “very particular walk”. “I walk like Will?” "I’m nothing like Will, sorry!” (of course he apologizes for that)

Hugh: “The show doesn’t exist without Will’s empathy. It’s always rising up and dragging him down. When he thinks he gets to a place of purity, the damn empathy comes along.” He could imagine a state where Will’s been “bleached” of his empathy by Hannibal (by an experience they had together or something else that happened on the beach), but that state wouldn’t last for very long. 

“Would Hannibal have to fight to get Will completely on his side?” H:“Yes, I think Hannibal is always going to have to fight for him”

And lastly a fan asks what would happen if Hannibal and Will went on a bro holiday and Bryan is like that’s “plot fodder for S4″ :’D