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flightlessangelwings · 4 years ago

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I Owe What I am to You

Billy Russo x fem!Reader

Word count: 3.1k

Warnings: mild violence, injury, hurt/comfort, kidnapping, minor character death, angst, fluff, protective!Billy, Billy betrays Rawlings AU

“Mr. Russo, you have someone here to see you,” Billy’s assistant knocked on his office door.

He glanced at the clock; he didn’t have an appointment scheduled until 2 so there was only one person that could walk through that door. He stood and grinned when he was right and you slid past Billy’s assistant with a quick thanks.

Once the door was closed behind you, Billy quickly closed the gap between your bodies and took your lips with his in a needy kiss. You squealed in surprise, but quickly wrapped your arms around him and pulled him as close as you could. It had only been since this morning since you last saw each other, but lately every hour felt like a week whenever you were apart.

This past year or so was a rough year for you both.

You had met Billy some time ago, you forgot how long now when you came in to interview him as part of your job as a journalist and there was immediate chemistry. Soon after, you started dating and soon after that, Billy broke down and told you everything he had kept hidden from the world. There was such a strong connection between the two of you that neither could explain and Billy came to trust you uncharacteristically fast.

He told you about his deal with Rawlins and the guilt he felt for betraying his best friend, Frank Castle. You listened as he cried in your arms, and you told him that the only way he could make it right was to betray Rawlins.

He was hesitant at first, mostly because he didn’t want to risk putting you in danger or get caught in the crosshairs. But you convinced him you would be alright. You were right of course; Billy had to admit that you almost always were, but Billy was left injured and scarred from his and Frank’s fight with Rawlins. During everything, though, you stuck by his side, and Billy realized just how much he loved you.

Once Billy was fully healed, he rebranded Anvil and rebuilt it from the ground up to be what he wanted from the beginning, and free of Rawlin’s influence. You helped him with that as well; you used your investigative skills to thoroughly vet every applicant and potential networking partner before Billy signed them on.

“Billy,” you giggled between kisses, “Meg is just outside the door.” This wouldn’t be the first time you had sex in his office, but you didn’t want his assistant to hear anything and then have to walk past her when you left.

He didn’t care, and he spun you around and backed you up until your legs bumped into his desk. Billy gracefully lifted you so that you sat on his desk and kissed you even more deeply. It took him some time to show affection like this with you again, but once he started, he didn’t want to stop.

You moaned softly into his mouth before you pushed him back, “Billy,” you gave him a fierce look that always made him melt.

He cradled the side of your face as he said your name, “You’re right,” he looked at you with those big, dark eyes and you almost gave in to him.

You kissed him once more before you leaned back to glance over the papers on his desk. You noticed at the top of the stack, there was a paper with someone’s profile, and you immediately recognized the name.

“Why are you meeting with Big Ed?” you asked as you picked up the sheet of paper.

Billy’s grip on your waist tightened as he furrowed his brows, “He’s interested in working with Anvil as a partner. How do you know his name?”

You turned back around to meet his gaze, “He keeps popping up when I’m doing my research for you,” you explained, “I can’t find much on him though. It’s like he just appeared out of nowhere,” you let out a heavy sigh, “I don’t know, Billy. Something about him doesn’t sit right with me.”

He was quiet for a moment as he took in your words. You were a good journalist, and your instincts were usually correct. Plus, Billy trusted you. He was about to say something when the phone on his desk rang. You jumped in his arms in surprise, and he gave you a quick squeeze before he reached over to press the speaker button.

“Mr. Russo, a Big Ed is here to see you,” Meg’s voice rang through the speaker.

He’s early, “Tell him I’ll be right out,” the line clicked and he turned to you, and the look in your eyes made his heart sink, “Too late to back out now,” Billy said.

“I’ll go back to my office and see what else I can dig up on him,” you pushed yourself off of his desk, but Billy did not release his protective hold on you, “Promise me you’ll be careful Billy.”

He flashed you a charming smile, “I’m always careful baby,” he kissed you once more, and for some reason this kiss felt very final. Billy pushed that sinking feeling aside and told himself it was just nerves, “You want me to call a car for you?”

“I can call one myself, Billy,” you paused and bit your lip as an uneasy feeling hung in the air between the two of you, “I love you.”

Billy brushed your lower lip with his thumb, “I love you too.” It wasn’t often that you and Billy spoke those words aloud to each other, though you both knew the feeling was there. You both saved the words for special or desperate occasions, the the uneasy feeling that hung in the air definitely warranted the moment.

He watched you leave with a heavy feeling in his chest and he took a minute to gather himself before he went to meet with this Big Ed.

You stepped outside Anvil to wait for your car, but you weren’t waiting long until one pulled up and called your name. You thought nothing of it, since the driver used your name and you stepped into the back seat. The drive to your office was silent, and it took longer than usual due to traffic, but you kept yourself occupied by starting your research on Big Ed from your phone. You were so wrapped up in your investigation that you didn’t even notice at first that the car pulled up to your work building. When the driver shook you from your focus, you thanked him and stepped out of the car.

Just as you got out, your phone rang and you saw it was Billy. You smiled at his picture on your screen; it was one you took when you were out together one night and out caught him in a sweet smile before he regained his composure.

“That was fast,” you said with a short laugh as you answered.

“I think you were right,” his voice was serious, “I had a bad feeling about him too. Cut the meeting short,” Billy paused and you heard him take a deep breath, “You back at your office?”

“Yeah I just got here. Traffic was bad,” you could hear the worry in his voice and it made you nervous, “Everything ok, Billy?”

He was quiet for a moment, “Fine.”

“So you’re not going to work with him then?” you had the feeling there was something Billy was not telling you, and as much as you wanted to know you also didn’t want to push it.

Again, Billy was quiet. What you couldn’t see was the worry on his face as he replayed what Big Ed said to him during the meeting: It’s in your best interest to take my offer. I think you’ll find that I can be very persuasive, Mr. Russo.

Billy did not like the threat that loomed in his words. When you said his name again, he finally answered, “I don’t know. See what you can dig up, and call me later.”

You swallowed hard; you knew something was wrong, “Alright. I’m walking in now,” you both hung up and you decided to leave it at that for now. You knew Billy would tell you what bothered him eventually when he was ready.

You walked past the security camera and were just about to pull the door open when a pained cry got your attention. Never one to ignore someone in need of help, you let go of the door and ran to the side of the building where you heard the cry come from. You looked around, but no one was there, and you figured you must have imagined it.

Just as you shrugged and were about to turn around, you heard a rush of movement behind you. But before you could turn, a hand that held a cloth covered your face. You screamed into the cloth, but your cry was muffled. A strong arm held you in place, as much as you struggled, and you passed out after a few moments. Just before you blacked out, you recognized the driver of the car you just exited.

Billy busied himself in his office after he hung up with you, but he still had this nagging feeling in the back of his head that would not go away. He glanced down at his phone again, even though it was only a short while since you hung up. Billy sighed and ran his hands through his hair when his phone rang.

He looked down and saw your face on his screen: a photo of you at the beach that he took over the summer. Billy answered with your name and waited for you to say something. When the line stayed silent, he stood and immediately knew something was wrong. He said your name again with more urgency and he scowled when a deep voice laughed on the other end of the time.

“I told you I can be persuasive, Mr. Russo,” Big Ed’s voice rang through the line.

“What the hell did you do? Where the fuck is she?” Billy shouted with rage into the phone, “I swear, if you hurt her…”

“Your girl is fine, Mr. Russo,” Big Ed cut him off, “And she’ll stay that way as long as you follow my instructions.”

“You son of a bitch,” Billy growled as he shook with anger.

Big Ed ignored the insult and went ahead with his instructions, “I’m going to text you an address from this lovely lady’s phone and you’re going to meet me here in exactly one hour. Come alone. If I see even one other person, she dies. Got it, pretty boy?”

Billy snarled as he gripped the phone so hard it almost broke. Between the insult and taking you, this guy just signed his own death certificate, he just didn’t know it yet. The line clicked and right away a text came in with the address along with a photo of you that made his blood boil. You were unconscious and tied to a chair with a piece of duct tape on your mouth. You didn’t look hurt, which was a small relief, but Billy had never felt more angry, and scared, in his life.

“I’m coming for you baby,” he mumbled to himself as he grabbed every weapon he could and bolted out.

You grumbled as you slowly regained consciousness and found yourself in an uncomfortable chair in the middle of a small, dimly lit room. When you tried to move, you found that your arms were bound behind you with an extra amount of rope around your midsection and your ankles were tied to the legs of the chair. You tried to take in a deep breath, but it was hard due to the duct tape on your mouth.

A laugh from the corner of the room made you snap fully awake as you tried to turn towards the sound.

“About time you joined us here my lovely,” the voice got closer to you as he spoke and you flinched when you felt a hand caress your cheek. “Oh don’t be like that, baby.”

I’m not your baby, you thought as you glared at him. When he stepped more into your line of vision, you recognized him as Big Ed. But, you hid your shock well. When he tried to run his fingers across your skin, you shook your head and mumbled curses through your gag.

“Feisty aren’t you?” he teased you, “I like that in a woman. And you’re smart too, I’ve had to stay one step ahead of your research. Although you’re the closest anyone’s ever come to revealing my past.”

Big Ed squeezed your cheeks so hard it made tears form in the corners on your eyes as he leaned in and sneered at you, “I really didn’t want to have to do this, but your boyfriend forced my hand.”

I don’t believe that for a second, you thought as you kept your glare pointed at him. You inhaled and reared your head back as far as you could before you pushed it toward and collided with him with as much force as you could muster.

“Bitch,” he shouted as he hit you across your face in retaliation.

You let out a muffled cry when his fist connected with the side of your face, and you would have fallen over from the force of his hit had he not grabbed your shirt to keep you seated upright. He was about to hit you again when an alarm sounded down the hallway.

“Right on time,” Big Ed released you and stepped toward the door, “Once I’m finished with your pretty boyfriend, you and I will pick up where we left off.”

His words sent chills down your spine as he stepped out of the room and locked it behind him. You struggled against your restraints but nothing budged and you let out a heavy sigh. There was no doubt in your mind that Billy would find you, but you found yourself worried for his safety because you were sure Big Ed was a man who played dirty.

From down the hall, you heard multiple gunshots, followed by shouts and grunts. Every sound made you jump, since you had no idea what was happening just outside the door. You heard the sound of what you guessed were bodies slammed against the wall and you knew it was a fight not too far from the room you were trapped in.

Soon, it got quiet and you kept your eyes on the door as you waited with baited breath. You heard the sound of doors slammed open and one by one, you heard it get closer and closer until the door in front of you swung open with a loud bang.

Out of reflex, you squeezed your eyes shut since you couldn’t move at all. You hated the way you felt so helpless and you could only hope that it wasn’t Big Ed that just burst through the door.

When you heard your name in Billy’s voice, your eyes shot open and you let out a big sigh of relief. You saw Billy stand in the doorway with his gun drawn, blood all over his body and a fierce look on his face. But his face dropped as soon as he saw you and he tucked his gun away and rushed over to you and said your name again.

“Fuck,” even though Billy saw the photo Big Ed sent him, nothing could have prepared him for seeing you like this in person, “It’s ok. It’s ok,” he repeated, “You’re ok baby. I got you.” Billy’s hand shook as he untied your ankles first before he quickly stopped the tape off your mouth and moved to unite your arms.

“Billy,” your voice was just above a whisper as you choked back tears.

The moment your arms were free, you wrapped them around him, and he responded right away. Billy slowly brought you to your feet with his arms around your waist as he whispered comforting words into your ear.

“You’re safe. I’ve got you baby,” Billy said again and he hated how much his voice shook. He held you tight for a few moments before he pulled back to inspect your face, “Are you hurt?” he brought a hand up to your face and he noticed the bloodstain from where Big Ed hit you and frowned.

You shook your head, “I’m fine,” truthfully you felt sore but you didn’t want to worry Billy any more than he already was. All you wanted to do was get out of here and back home, safe in Billy’s arms.

Suddenly, a noise from the doorway called both of your attention, and Billy turned around to find that a battered and bleeding Big Ed blocked the exit. The man snarled and raised his gun to aim right at you.

Both you and Billy reacted in tandem as you both reached for his gun. Your hands wrapped around the weapon together and it was as if you moved as one. With ease, the two of you raised the gun and shot him right in the head in one fluid motion.

When Big Ed’s lifeless body hit the ground, you let out a heavy breath. Billy lowered the gun and turned his attention back to you; his arms locked themselves tightly around your body once more. Neither of you spoke as he took you back to his penthouse and had your injury looked at then got you cleaned up and changed.

Billy never once left your side and he barely let go of your body since he found you. He was always protective of you, but after this he felt even more determined than ever to keep you safe. While he cleaned you up, he mumbled apologies and promises that he would do better in the future.

You barely spoke and you couldn’t stop the nerves from rushing through your body. It was only when Billy brought you to bed and laid next to you with his arms securely around you that you finally felt yourself relax. You laid with your head on his chest and just listened to the sound of his heartbeat, which finally slowed down from when it spiked earlier.

“I guess I was right about him, huh Billy?” your voice was weak but you still tried to cover your anxieties with humor. Billy let out a single short laugh at that and kissed the top of your head.

It was well past midnight when you were finally able to fall asleep, but Billy laid awake still with you in his embrace. He listened to the sounds of your heavy breaths and soft snores as he ran his fingers across your skin.

“I’m never gonna let anything happen to you again,” Billy promised your sleeping form before he finally let himself drift off to sleep as well.

Notes: Protective!Billy is my JAM!!!! I’ve had this in my head for awhile and I just had to write it!! It’s been a minute since I’ve written for Billy and I miss him so much! And in case anyone is wondering, I did name the bad guy Big Ed after the guy on 90 day fiance lol

Everything taglist: @thirsty-flygirl @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa @the-purity-pen @bisexual-space-slut

Billy Russo Taglist @witchygagirl @runawayolives @morriganwarrior @fictionwillneverdie @thanossexual @enamouravecleslivresetlechocolat @fific7 @shadow-assassin-blix

#billy russo x reader #billy russo imagine #billy russo x you #billy russo #billy russo fic #billy russo x y/n #billy russo fanfic #billy russo story #the punisher fic #the punisher fanfiction #the punisher imagine #the punisher #ben barnes character fanfiction #ben barnes character fic

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robininthelabyrinth · 4 years ago

Note

Do you think the 3zun dynamics would change veryuchf they were age swapped? If NMJ were the youngest, or LXC the oldest, or even JGY as oldest? not a prompt, just warning your thoughts!

on ao3

Meng Yao went to Qinghe on Lan Xichen’s recommendation.

He’d never quite given up hope of finding his way even after his father’s rejection, and while Lan Xichen was kind and generous and everything Meng Yao had ever dared dream a cultivator could be, the older man was on the run, his sect burned, his family stolen – he was in no position to help him at the time.

Meng Yao had expected the leader of the Nie sect, who was reputed to be a righteous man, just and uncaring of status, to be much the same. Fiercer, of course; who had not heard about the tempestuous tempers of the Nie sect? But he’d expected something of that same ageless dignity, the way the two years that Lan Xichen had on him might as well have been a hundred years, that same feeling of distant awe as if looking up at a deity far above him –

He was not expecting Nie Mingjue.

Nie Mingjue, the youngest of the sect leaders of the Great Sects, who had prematurely inherited his sect after his father’s death and who’d run it with an iron fist ever since –

Nie Mingjue, who raised his younger brother like a father and lead his sect like a general –

Nie Mingjue, whose fighting skills were already renowned, whose people adored him, who stood against the world with no thought of anything but justice and revenge –

Nie Mingjue, who was a teenager.

“I’m almost twenty,” Nie Mingjue said with huff when he blurted it out, all his ideas about convincing the man to take pity on him – Lan Xichen had let slip that Nie Mingjue had a fondness for the underdog – going out the window at once. “And when I am, I will celebrate no one ever saying that again. Come on, get up; who forced you to stay out here? I’ll have words with them.”

More than mere words, he brought his saber up in Meng Yao’s defense, and it wasn’t long thereafter that Meng Yao secured his position as the man’s deputy.

“More like babysitter,” Nie Huaisang teased, and didn’t protest when his brother shoved him out of his chair without even looking up. “He never had one when he was younger, you understand – probably why he never learned how to take care of himself. He was only twelve when he took the position of sect leader, you know, and he hasn’t grown up one tiny bit since.”

“Huaisang! Shut up!”

Twelve, Meng Yao mouthed to himself. When he was twelve, he’d still been marking time at the brothel, doing odd jobs for a miniscule wage – he was barely entrusted with serving drinks. The only thing he’d been in charge of had been a few scrappy street kids that were awed by anyone who slept indoors; he couldn’t even imagine having to run a sect, much less as ancient and powerful a one as the Nie sect.

“You can ignore anything my brother says,” Nie Mingjue told him. His cheeks were darker than usual – was he blushing? “Consider than an official order.”

Meng Yao had had plans for what he’d do if he ever managed to get in closer to a sect leader. He’d thought it over in those years since the fiasco at Lanling, brimming as he was with resentment – it was all mapped out: how he would flatter them with respect and awe, how he would learn their weaknesses and cater to them, how he would make himself indispensable to them without ever allowing them to realize that he thought of himself as more than the dirt beneath their feet.

Such a plan, in the face of Nie Mingjue, was useless.

“You are going to go to sleep right now, Sect Leader” Meng Yao announced, dowsing the candles in the main office one by one.

“You can’t order me a- a-” Nie Mingjue’s complaint was interrupted by a yawn. “- around.”

“There’s no point in you staying up and wasting paper that you’ll only have to fix tomorrow, Sect Leader Nie,” Meng Yao said with a gentle smile, “when you can instead go to sleep, get a good rest, and actually write something coherent in the morning.”

“M’not tired.”

You’re a liar is what you are, Meng Yao thought, unable to keep the fondness out of the thought.

“Whatever you say, Sect Leader Nie,” he said in his sweetest tones, the ones that implied but did not say that he was indulging a small infant.

Nie Mingjue grumbled and glared, but he did put down the papers, which had in fact become totally incoherent splashes of ink as he desperately tried to fight back the tsunami of paperwork necessary for a sect leader to complete – Meng Yao had offered several times to find him more secretaries, and Nie Mingjue always refused; after interviewing the first few applicants behind his sect leader’s back, Meng Yao realized that was such a well-known path to corruption that even he’d been forced to give up on it.

He reached out and idly tugged on Meng Yao’s sleeve. “You have to help me with it tomorrow.”

“Don’t I help you with it every day?” Meng Yao replied, putting his hands on Nie Mingjue’s shoulders – for all that he was little more than a child to Meng Yao’s eyes, Nie Mingjue was tall, excessively so, and Meng Yao suspected he might possibly still be growing, somehow – to walk him over to the bed. “If you mean that I should do it and read out questions while you train your saber, the answer is no, Sect Leader Nie. You don’t focus enough on what you’re deciding when we do that.”

“But Meng Yao –”

“If you make me sit outside in the midsummer sun for a full shichen just because you’d rather be doing anything but read about Wen Ruohan’s latest atrocity, I may have no choice but to quit.”

Meng Yao had never expected to ever say such a thing to someone in a position above him. He’d never expected that it would work.

“Don’t quit,” Nie Mingjue said at once, allowing Meng Yao to pull his clothing off to prepare him for sleep. For all his height and power, Nie Mingjue had an earnest personality that was exactly like one of the street kids Meng Yao had bossed around all those years ago, and somehow he’d found himself falling into precisely the same patterns. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Your work, probably,” Meng Yao muttered under his breath but still unintentionally audible, wincing the second the too-sharp words passed through his lips, but as always when he slipped up Nie Mingjue looked delighted rather than scandalized.

“But I get so much more of it done when you’re around,” Nie Mingjue protested with a laugh, reaching up to start undoing his hair. With anyone else, Meng Yao would have thought it was an invitation to stay longer, to perform other services, but no matter how often Nie Mingjue’s eyes trailed after him or how stunned he looked on the rare instances Meng Yao had reason to wear formal robes, he would never ask and, if Meng Yao offered, invariably and firmly refuse. “Go to bed yourself, Meng Yao, and that’s an order. Don’t worry about me – I’ll be good.”

Meng Yao averted his eyes and smiled.

Meng Yao didn’t especially regret killing the Jin sect captain.

The man had been an ass, rude and overbearing and incompetent; he had stolen Meng Yao’s achievements for his own, not giving him any room to climb up through the ranks by his own merit the way he had in the Nie sect – not even citing his name in any of the reports, erasing everything he’d done from the record as if he was nothing, and when confronted, claimed it was because he was nothing, deserved nothing. He’d laughed at Meng Yao for daring to think that he could ever be worth anything, for forgetting who his mother was, what his mother was.

Meng Yao had never been inclined to forgive such slights – the opportunity had arisen, the two of them alone in the remnants of the battlefield, and he had taken it without a second thought.

He did not regret his death.

But he did regret the expression on Nie Mingjue’s face when he saw him do it, the confusion and devastation in his eyes. Meng Yao had turned at his shout to see him, and perhaps it was his youth that made Nie Mingjue unable to fully hide his feelings away from one who knew him well, or perhaps it was simply not in his character – Meng Yao had seen it all.

Meng Yao wished he’d turned around a little slower.

Maybe if he’d been slower, he would have only see the anger and not the hurt; the rage, the blame, and not the trust shattering, naivete broken as if Nie Mingjue were seeing death for the first time, as if he were not the blood-soaked Chifeng-zun with a thousand lives lost to his blade.

The guilt, as Nie Mingjue blamed himself for having sent Meng Yao here –

The worry, as he began to wonder what else Meng Yao was capable of doing, what he might have already done while at the Nie sect –

The shame, at not having realized what Meng Yao was like.

Meng Yao’s excuses came slowly to his mouth, his silver tongue failing him, and anyway Nie Mingjue couldn’t quite decide if he was shouting at him to explain or telling him to shut up – his excuses were only making it worse, and Meng Yao knew that, he knew Nie Mingjue didn’t understand how words could hurt or the importance of glory (except he did, he who was called a child, inexperienced, naïve, and because of that his thoughts were overruled and ignored unless he fought for them), he knew Nie Mingjue wouldn’t kill someone over his personal hurt (even he should have, Meng Yao had wanted a thousand times to silence those self-important elders of the Nie sect, those condescending little sect leaders), he knew that Nie Mingjue had only ever wanted to do the right thing just because it was right.

He knew that the world had disappointed Nie Mingjue time and time again, and this time it was his turn.

Meng Yao did not regret the Jin captain’s death.

But if he could do it again, he might have let him live.

It was something to think about during his time at the Nightless City, as atrocities flowed easily from his hand and he won yet another sect leader’s admiration and trust, for it was only ever his father that refused to even let him try. The Wen sect was more like what he’d imagine the Great Sects to be, full of back-biting and scheming and everyone out for their own gain, and those games he knew how to play.

“I want that bastard’s head,” Wen Ruohan raged.

You, want someone dead? What a surprise, Meng Yao thought but did not say. Nie Mingjue would have liked him to say it; Wen Ruohan would have him whipped or worse if he did.

“Whose head, Sect Leader Wen?” he asked politely. The number of people that Wen Ruohan wanted dead was as countless as the grains of sand on a beach. “You need only say the word, and I will see what can be done.”

Often, nothing. They were at war, after all.

“That overgrown infant, Nie Mingjue,” Wen Ruohan said with a sneer. “Arrogant little demon; he was always too clever by half, even back when he became sect leader at the age of ten –”

“Twelve,” Meng Yao automatically corrected, then winced; crossing Wen Ruohan was a good way to get into trouble from which there was no escape, and he knew better.

Luckily, for all his anger Wen Ruohan was in a good mood, and he only gave a bark of laughter. “I keep forgetting that you weren’t raised a cultivator,” he said, rolling his eyes. “The Nie sect habitually lie about their ages, some old superstition or some nonsense like that, and it’s usually revised up. Perhaps they think they need to get living sooner than everyone else, what with those qi deviations of theirs. Pity they takes so long to get to – I’d like to see him bleeding his life away.”

The thought of Nie Mingjue bleeding from the qiqiao, his eyes bloodshot his nose running his mouth choking on thick black blood, was not one that Meng Yao much liked.

He got to see it anyway.

It was his own plan that did the trick: he knew how much Nie Mingjue trusted Lan Xichen, who he saw as almost an older brother; he knew, in turn, that Lan Xichen trusted him. It was not difficult to lead Nie Mingjue into a trap from which he could not escape.

Meng Yao should have learned from Langya that he would not enjoy the sight of Nie Mingjue humbled and humiliated, Nie Mingjue on his knees, Nie Mingjue have been beaten black and blue, dripping with blood, and still not bending – anyone else, and he would have been pleased.

Anyone else, except perhaps Lan Xichen, who was untouchable.

Perhaps he would have enjoyed it if Nie Mingjue were just a bit older – usually revised up, he thought, and wondered if he’d been right about Nie Mingjue still growing – if he’d been settled in his own skin, confident and self-assured and righteous in a way Meng Yao knew he’d never be, if he was as high above him as Lan Xichen but less worthy, but he wasn’t and he didn’t: he only saw the way Nie Mingjue’s eyes were wide and hurt upon seeing him, even though he should have known better after Meng Yao’s earlier betrayal, should have expected something like this.

Children never understood why people hurt them. Meng Yao hadn’t, when it’d been him.

Knowing what he knew, Meng Yao did not expect forgiveness when he struck Wen Ruohan down before he could end Nie Mingjue’s life.

He did not receive it.

“I think we should become sworn brothers,” Lan Xichen said, and the proposal so perfectly suited Meng Yao’s ambitions in Lanling – Jin Guangyao’s ambitions – that for a moment he wondered how he had managed to manipulate Lan Xichen into doing it without having realized he was doing it. “The three of us.”

“Three of us?” Jin Guangyao asked, because surely he didn’t mean –

“You, me, and Nie Mingjue,” Lan Xichen clarified. He smiled, graceful as an immortal descended from the heavens. “I would be happy to see the two of you friends again, as it was before.”

It will never be as it was before, Jin Guangyao thought. Nie Mingjue had barely refrained from killing him, turning away only at Lan Xichen’s urging; he had returned to the battlefield and cleaned up the rest of the war, and not once in that entire time had he said a word to Jin Guangyao. No letter, which he’d expected, but not even in the few times since when they’d met in person.

Not even at the banquet when Jin Guangyao was recognized officially by his father, and took on a new name, a new title.

It was about what Jin Guangyao had expected. He’d learned long ago in the brothel that even the most foolish child would learn to shy away from you if you hit them enough – if he sometimes missed the feeling of being able to speak his mind freely, recalled Nie Mingjue’s badly hidden glee at having elicited a real reaction from his unflappable deputy, was wistful for the days of being in a sect where the Sect Leader listened to him and let him shine, well, that was on his own head.

Just one more thing he’d sacrificed, never to be recovered.

He didn’t say that. He only smiled and said, “You know I hold both you and Sect Leader Nie in the highest esteem; I would be honored. But as to whether Sect Leader Nie would agree…”

“He already has,” Lan Xichen said, and Jin Guangyao was truly shocked. “We can do the ceremony at the end of the week, if it suits you.”

“Of course,” Jin Guangyao said. He went to try to find Nie Mingjue himself, but the wall of hostility that surrounded the Nie sect, which he had found amusing when he was on the inside, now worked to repel him: the guards refused to let him pass, the new deputy aide told him that the sect leader was too busy to accept guests, the disciples refused to pass on letters, and even Nie Huaisang could not be found.

Even at dinner, Nie Mingjue did not meet his eyes once; it was as if nothing had changed.

Why would he agree? Jin Guangyao wondered. What did Lan Xichen tell him to make him agree?

In his heart, Lan Xichen was as untouchable as the moonlight, and yet for the first time Jin Guangyao felt the slightest hint of dissatisfaction – no, perhaps it was better said that it was Meng Yao who was dissatisfied, Meng Yao who had seen the fate of all those foolish children on the streets that were led into the abyss because they trusted too much. He knew himself to be the very same abyss: his words were as pretty and poisonous as any pimp’s, his motives as murky and foul, and Nie Mingjue had seen it.

Why agree?

When the ceremony was completed, they were congratulated and called the Venerated Triad, and in the evening they shared some wine – Lan Xichen’s idea, and a stupid one, since the next shichen was spent chasing their new da-ge around in an effort to convince him to stop climbing things or at minimum not to fall.

When at last it was late enough in the evening for the Lan sect’s strict discipline to kick in, and Lan Xichen safely stored away in his bed, Jin Guangyao gave a sigh of relief and turned to go.

A tug at his sleeve stopped him, and he turned to look at Nie Mingjue, who was frowning.

They were alone together, at last, and Jin Guangyao had a thousand questions and more, but he restrained himself and asked only, “What is it?”

He refrained from adding the ‘Sect Leader Nie’ that rose to his lips out of habit; he did not know if it was still appropriate.

“We’re sworn brothers now,” Nie Mingjue said, and Jin Guangyao could not read the expression in his eyes. “Given our ages, that makes you my older brother.”

“It does,” Jin Guangyao agreed.

“Since you’re my elder, that means I have to listen to you,” Nie Mingjue continued. “To be filial and obedient, as well as respectful.”

Jin Guangyao had not thought of it that way, but it was true: he was indeed the elder, and with their oath binding them, could expect such things to be due to him without having to concern himself with the differences in their rank.

“And in return you have to guide me and take care of me, to be concerned with my conduct and well-being; isn’t that right?”

Jin Guangyao nodded.

Nie Mingjue’s expression, which had been wary, firmed. “Good,” he said, and tugged on his sleeve again, an emphasis Jin Guangyao did not quite understand. “Mark your words. I entrust myself to you, er-ge; you can scold me as much as you like, but you have to model good behavior for me…”

He hesitated, then burst out: “No more killing, okay? No matter what, no killing anyone until you’ve learned to tell good from bad - if they anger you, you tell me and I’ll beat them up, but don’t you dare do it yourself! You hear me?”

Jin Guangyao’s eyes were as wide as saucers and a smile he had not had to force was on his lips. “You’re selling yourself and helping me count the money,” he told the foolish child, who scowled and glared at him. “I don’t deserve to hold something so valuable in my hands.”

Nie Mingjue huffed. “Maybe if you thought less about what you should deserve and more about your duty to what you already have, you’d have fewer problems,” he said tartly, Nie Huaisang’s da-ge shining through for a moment. “You’ve already sworn with me; it’s too late to take the deal back.”

No wonder he’d refused to speak to him before: Nie Mingjue had too many feelings and was too bad at hiding them – he would never be able to hide his intentions if they had had time to speak, and he had clearly been determined to lure him into this trap no matter what.

As if he thought Jin Guangyao would refuse.

“No more killing,” he promised, already aware that such a vow would be an impediment in his plans and not quite managing to care. The steel of Qinghe shone cleaner than all the gold in Lanling; he would not throw away a treasure a second time. “You have my word.”

“And you consult with us about your troubles,” Nie Mingjue added, seeing he’d won an inch and trying to get a mile. “You can be good, Meng Yao; you only forget sometimes, when there’s something you want more – you can trust Xichen-ge, at least, even if you don’t want to come to me, but don’t go alone anymore.”

“Because I can’t be trusted?”

Nie Mingjue rolled his eyes at him. “Because you’re ours,” he growled, a little tiger cub flashing its milk teeth, and he wasn’t talking about Lan Xichen. “You’re ours and we’re yours, and it’s about time you started acting like it!”

“All right,” Jin Guangyao said, feeling indulgent again. “Be good, A-Jue, or else I’ll think you think you’re the elder, not the younger.”

Nie Mingjue flushed red and ducked his head to hide it – it might have worked, too, if he wasn’t so tall or Jin Guangyao so short; he could see the embarrassment on his face at once.

A bit exaggerated a reaction to such mild scolding.

“What is it?”

“Nothing,” Nie Mingjue’s voice stuttered a little, which Jin Guangyao hadn’t even known was possible – how delightful. “No one’s ever called me that, that’s all.”

Moved by an unspeakable impulse, Jin Guangyao reached up and touched Nie Mingjue’s head, and was delighted to find that his hair was as soft as he’d always suspected it would be.

“Well, you don’t have a choice but to bear it,” he said, happy without even a trace of resentment in his heart. “I’m the older brother, remember? You made the deal; you can’t back out of it now.”

Nie Mingjue smiled at him, his eyes curved up, and then abruptly the smile faded.

Jin Guangyao’s heart, always wary, recoiled at once: “What’s the matter? Do you regret…?”

“Oh, no, not at all! And anyway it’s not you! It’s…our da-ge is climbing out the window behind you.”

“Oh no!”

Learning to trust would take some time, but Jin Guangyao felt confident that he’d figure it out eventually.

He always did.

#mdzs #jin guangyao #meng yao #nie mingjue #lan xichen #3zun #my fic #my fics #age swap #a matter of age #chuplayswithfire

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katytheinspiredworkaholic · 4 years ago

Text

Correspondence, Chapter 06

Pairing: HotchReid

Summary: An AU where Reid never joined the FBI, but got roped into consulting for the LA field office while working and teaching at Caltech. Hotch gets his email referred from a fellow agent, and they start to work on cases together – until they start talking on a regular basis. Regular becomes frequent, frequent becomes constant. They know nothing about each other, but they don’t really mind.

Rating: Mature/Explicit (eventually)

Chapter CW/notes: Slight offscreen peril, a bunch of POV changes, and we’re going to start introducing the team one by one so a whole lot of Rossi this chapter. Everyone will get their turn, and a few people (Garcia and Morgan for sure) get more than one. This chapter got very very long, once again. Set in season 6-7, self beta’d.

Word Count: 10716

Masterpost Link

Ao3 Link

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Chapter 06

–

March 2011

–

Although the BAU sends teams out frequently to different corners of the continental US -- whenever they’ve been requested or invited in, or when they are interviewing captured criminals for research studies and papers -- for the most part they can do all of their work right there at home. In Quantico, Virginia.

Hotch’s team is one of four domestic Behavioral Analysis teams in the Unit, who work alongside three Behavioral Research and Instruction teams, as well as liaisons from the National Center for the Analysis of Violent Crimes (NCAVC) and two international BAU teams. Hotch doesn’t directly oversee the international sectors, or the liaisons, but he is Unit Chief as well as the leader of his team and he seems to constantly be buried in a sea of paperwork. Especially when he is back in his office at Quantico, and can’t use the excuse of being called out on a case to defer some of the workload.

But one thing about being home that Hotch appreciates more than anything is the routine it creates; with his work, with his home, with Jack, and now -- with Spencer. Being three time zones apart is difficult, but it’s all they’ve ever known, and it becomes second nature for Hotch to always be aware what the time is in California. What time of day it is for the other man, what his routine might be and the little stolen minutes that are best to send texts, sneak in phone calls, and they become quite skilled at it. Spencer knows Hotch’s schedule better than he does himself, some days, and he always returns the favor in kind. Quite literally living in each other’s pockets, via a cell phone, and Hotch finds that thought amusing to no end.

It also means that the younger man is… always on his mind. Just a glance at a clock and he already knows what time it is across the country, and he often finds himself thinking about what Spencer is doing. What class he is teaching. If he’s grabbing coffee or actual lunch like he should. They’ve hit this point in their relationship where the constant communication is all but seamless and interwoven into their everyday lives. It becomes a common occurrence to always think about Spencer, to always check his phone as often as he might check his watch, and Hotch starts to realize that this long distance relationship has taken some deep roots within him. That he just very might be falling head over heels for a man he’s never met, and although it takes him a moment to grasp that concept fully -- he finds that he doesn’t really mind it, either. Because this is the happiest he’s been in a long, long time.

And after the past few years, he’s learned that that is not something he can afford to be cautious with.

So he lets it all progress unchecked, as nerve-wracking as that can be, instead of keeping it in the consistency they’ve grown so used to. The relationship akin to many of the experiments and projects Spencer regales him with; a constant that needs variables in order for it to change and ignite. It should have been jarring, this free fall that Hotch had begun to allow, but somehow it never was.

And just like that, they continued to grow closer, a little less wary than before.

After that week in December, their phone conversations become as frequent as their text messaging. Every night, sometimes over lunch and on the weekends, Jack has even jumped in once or twice during the daytime hours when their time together overlaps. Hotch was surprised at the younger boy’s enthusiasm to talk to whoever he has been messaging off and on for the better part of a year, and even more at how the two get on even over the phone. But Spencer points out one night that Jack probably is more used to speaking and connecting with people over long distance because of his father’s constant travel through the year. As often as Hotch calls and messages Spencer, he also talks to Jack every night that he’s not home, so it would be a very minute shift for him to be introduced to Spencer and find it as normal an occurrence as if Hotch was on one of his trips. This creates various juxtaposing emotions for Hotch, glad that Spencer and Jack can meet each other without it being stilted or awkward with the distance, and morose that he’s created this precedent in his son that could last his whole life. Thankfully, it only takes a few nights of Spencer’s stream-of-conscious lectures indicating statistics and case studies and small anecdotes speckled throughout, all connecting like constellations in the sky, to soothe his apprehensions.

Spencer always seems to have that effect on Hotch, when they talk.

They have come to find that just the sound of the other’s voice is enough to ease even the most stressful of days, and for Spencer as well. Through physical application they discover just how well, as the months pass them by. Through the Christmas holidays, a hard time for the Hotchners because it was always Haley’s favorite time of year, resulting in many a late night phone call that goes far beyond when even Spencer should have fallen asleep. On past New Years, and Spencer’s mom’s birthday in late January -- another hard time -- where the younger man confided in Hotch that his mother is permanently institutionalized with paranoid schizophrenia. Something he never shares with anyone, if he can help it, but a large part of his life he knows he wants Hotch to be aware of now. After all this time. They help each other through each and every instance, are there through the thick and thin of it, solidifying a trust that appeared as naturally as everything else about them.

And with it… the feelings grow. So much stronger than before.

And although their phone calls stay more tame than not, they do revisit the hushed tones and quiet gasps that they had lapsed into that night in Wyoming -- and they were getting very good at it.

But with the new development of spoken conversations as well as through text is so much more than just the sexual progression, that’s not how this all started. There’s a companionship there that transcends all the multimedia facets they explore.

Spencer becomes one of the most important people in Hotch’s life. And Hotch is Spencer’s… whole world, outside of Caltech. They mean so much to each other, have blended together through time and distance and millions of words and messages. It’s really a wonder that more people don’t know about their relationship. Private as they are, each in their own right, they hold a place in each other’s days and nights and thoughts at all times.

Once winter gives way to spring, and March bleeds into the calendar, Spencer mentions one night that it’s been exactly one year since Hotch had emailed him on that first case. An anniversary of sorts.

How had it been a whole year, already, and still felt so brand new?

And yet, neither man can even remember what their life was like before they’d met. How could they possibly have gotten through the day, and not have it speckled with those little moments of conversation? Filling the spaces where they hadn’t even realized they’d been lonely. Had no idea what they were missing, until they had it in their hands.

It’s a day in mid-March that finds the BAU oddly quiet. Everyone is home, for the most part: no urgent cases, no pending interviews, just mountains of paperwork and yearly evals paired with recertifications to keep them occupied. Rossi even takes the week off to go attend a convention in L.A. where one of his books is being featured, again. Hotch doesn’t bother to try and fight him on it, there’s really no need with everything seeming in a lull for the time being.

But, since one person got the week off, naturally everyone else starts to take it easier as well. Procrastinating by taking frequent snack and coffee breaks, sitting at each other’s desks in the bull pen and generally goofing around -- not getting much work done at all. Hotch can see his team, or most of them, from his office where he has been finishing up some reports that really should have been completed by the group horsing around all morning.

But it’s such a comforting sight, smiles and laughs in the place where they confront violence and depravity at all hours of the day. His team deserves a break, he decides, so Hotch finishes his report as if he can’t see the team out of the corner of his eye, and checks his phone again while waiting for a reply from Spencer. The professor has also been dealing with procrastination among his own students, the majority resorting to messing around in the labs instead of actually getting their work done like they should. The situational parallel alone enough to make Hotch bite back a smile that would be too much in plain view; not wanting to reveal that he is taking his work at his leisure, as well, that day.

“Garcia!” Prentiss calls as she walks past Hotch’s office door, always left open for easy access by his agents, and so he can hear the goings on of the BAU floor. “There’s some kind of alarm going off in your office? I’ve never heard it before.”

“What does it sound like? Is it the Doctor Who theme, or kind of ‘Mission Impossible’-y,” she asks as she relinquishes Morgan’s chair (which she had commandeered over an hour ago) and makes her way through the maze of desks. “Oh! Or is it the 007 music? I’ve been waiting for a message from our BAU friends abroad--”

“No, no this kind of sounds like an air raid siren.”

Garcia’s face drops, and never has Hotch seen that look on her face before. She spins on her leopard print heels and is hurrying back across the bull pen as fast as those four inch stilettos will allow.

“Pen?”

“Baby girl, what is it?”

“No one panic! Not until I get there!” she calls back, with an edge of franticness in her voice that creates the exact opposite reaction she is calling for. Morgan looks up to Hotch, who is already out his door and following after the tech analyst, and they share a look of affirmative action. Whatever it is that has her worked up, it can’t be good.

It’s always on the quiet days. He should have known.

“Morgan, get the jet prepped if it’s available. Prentiss--” Hotch spins and points at her still on the high rise as he makes his way towards the elevators. “Be on standby for communication. JJ’s not due back until next week.” He had finally gotten her negotiated back from the State Department (and the Pentagon, too, he had cashed in quite a few big favors for that one), and Garcia has done a good job covering for her the past year and a half. But it would be so nice to have Agent Jearau back and running the place once more like the well oiled machine it is.

Especially when he needs her, like right now.

“Talk to me, Garcia,” Hotch demands, slipping into the elevator beside her before the doors can close. “What does that alert mean?”

She looks only mildly nervous, but the panic bleeds through now that they’re closed off from the rest of the team. “It’s a friends and family alert I customized, for if a 911 call or emergency is issued around someone important to us.” She looks at him through her red rimmed glasses and Hotch can plainly see in her expression that it has been a while since this particular alert has gone off. “I have it linked to everyone’s homes, homes of family, old team members, schools for the kids, places of work. And the parameters are narrowed down pretty specifically, after I was getting alerts every other day in Chicago around Morgan’s mom’s house. That neighborhood is going downhill fast.” The elevator dings and they make their way to Garcia’s office, Hotch already pulling his phone out and texting Jessica to see if she’s alright and if Jack got to school okay.

“So could this be another false alarm?” he asks, keeping his voice steady and calm to counter her franticness. His deep tone seems to remind her to breathe evenly until they find out what caused the alert. Which is, indeed, going off like an old fashioned air raid siren, circa the London Blitz.

Garcia spins into her swivel chair, custom-ordered and much more comfortable looking than even his in his home office. With a few seconds of rapid-paced typing the alarm goes quiet and she is pulling up the details of the alert.

“Where is it?”

“California,” she says, still waiting for zeroed in coordinates and police reports.

“Rossi?” Hotch asks, remembering the man is in L.A. at a conference, and the chance a bomb has gone off there is slim to none, but the chance of criminal activity in the vicinity is statistically high.

“Not quite, a little further Northeast --” she trails off, and Hotch feels his stomach drop just as Garcia’s eyes go wide at the report appearing on the screen. “Pasadena. CalTech.”

His phone is in his hand and calling Spencer’s number before she finishes speaking.

The tone rings once, twice, “C’mon, Spencer, pick up,” he mutters, his tone no longer even or calm.

“The number you have called is out of service. Please contact your local provider for maintenance requests or inquiry--”

“All phone lines are down around the campus,” Garcia tells him over the automated voice in his ear. “They were knocked out by an explosion at one of the science labs.” A few more seconds of typing, creating a tension filled backdrop that can’t be good for his heart. “In the… Physics and Engineering Complex, building 254--”

“That’s Spencer’s building. Garcia patch me through, I don’t care to who or where. I’m calling Dave.”

“Roger, Roger,” Garcia complies as Hotch turns and paces the room, a dial tone once again ringing in his ear. Los Angeles is only a 20 or 30 minutes drive from Pasadena, depending what side of the city one was on. No matter which way he looked at it, Rossi was the person most likely to get there first.

He has to call twice to get the man to pick up.

“Please tell me we don’t have a case.” Rossi sounds as self-suffering as ever, and Hotch barrels right over his premature complaints.

“No. I need you to get to CalTech as soon as possible,” Hotch tells him, straightforward as he can be. “As in right now.”

If there’s one thing he’s learned from phone conversations with Spencer, it’s how to tell that someone is making a gesture or facial expression from just the slightest nuances of sound. That’s how he can hear Rossi smirk on the opposite end of the call, and years of friendship cast a pretty clear picture of it.

“Something to do with Dr. Reid, I’m guessing?” he deduces, and sounds so smug about it Hotch has to resist rolling his eyes. “Y’know, until that case in Wyoming I’d thought you had stumbled upon some hidden virtual dating line within the FBI consultant network, but I have to say I’m still stuck between the ‘friend of a friend’ scenario or--”

“Dave.” Hotch snaps, short and concise. “There’s been an explosion at the CalTech physics lab, and all communication has been knocked down. I need you to get over there and find Dr. Ried and --”

He stalls, realizing he hadn’t gotten that far yet. Hotch just needed to know Spencer hadn’t been in that explosion, that he wasn’t being rushed to a hospital, he needed to know what was going on and Rossi was his only chance at finding it out. Nosey, means well, but always in his business friend that he is.

“And?”

“Just, make sure he’s okay?” Hotch says, and his voice changes a little on the last syllable. Opens up a window to something more vulnerable, because damn it all he’s worried and Hotch schools that cadence in his voice as quickly as it reveals itself. “I’m sure there’s a swarm of police presence there but all cell service is offline and I can’t get a hold of him.”

Rossi doesn’t answer, just waits patiently as if there’s more to say.

Because of course there’s more to say. Hotch just hadn’t planned on saying it in such a plain context.

“Yes, it’s Dr. Reid I’m… seeing. Dating. I just need to know he’s alright.” The carefully controlled tone of his voice threatens to break apart, but Rossi nor Garcia would know that listening to him. Aaron Hotchner has had a lot of practice dealing with grace under pressure, and even his loved ones in danger under pressure -- last time had been devastating. This time, not just yet, but going through it twice is not something he is looking to experience.

“Okay, alright,” Rossi tells him, as if he’d somehow been hysterical about it and Hotch frowns at his phone. “I’m walking to my car now.” Those questions Rossi wants to ask hang unanswered between them, and Hotch doesn’t know if he has the patience for them at that moment. “Anything I should know before I meet him?”

Rossi is not slick, like he thinks he is. Hotch has known him far too long to not know what he’s doing, baiting the question without asking it. Hotch pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs long and drawn out before answering.

“He’s young.”

“I gathered,” Rossi deadpans. “And--?”

“He’s very young.”

“As in scandalous young? You’re turning into me.”

Hotch snorts. “He has 5 Ph.D.’s and runs three departments. I think our side-by-side comparison weighs in my favor.”

“So… how young is young?”

“Dave, don’t make this a thing,” Hotch all but begs the older man, now sounding as self-suffering as Rossi had when he’d answered the phone.

“Oh -- that bad?”

He’s not going to drop it. Hotch can hear cars and the sounds of a parking garage echoing through the background, and the last thing he wants is for Rossi to stall -- holding his assistance hostage while Hotch stands there and worries about if Spencer is okay or hurt or dead because Rossi can also be an asshole at the worst of times.

“... He’s 30.”

“ 30? As in three-zero, 30?”

Hotch frowns further. “ You’re judging me?” They both remember the 20-something barely in grad school from Greg Peterson’s wedding four years ago, Hotch doesn’t even have to bring it up or remember her name to make Rossi scoff in answer.

“Yes, but that’s me. This is you.” Rossi pauses, and if he’s stopped outside his car without getting inside of it Hotch will reach through the phone and strangle him like an old-school looney tunes cartoon.

“ Don’t bring it up to him, Dave. I swear -- just, make sure he’s alive. Please.”

“Yes, yes, I’ll check on your scandalously young boyfriend and call when I can,” Rossi tells him. Almost too easy, despite the struggle it took to get there that’s making a headache build behind Hotch’s eyes.

“Thank you.”

“-- But we’re talking about this later.”

“No, we aren’t.”

“Oh, yes we are.”

“I’m hanging up.” Which is exactly what he does, Rossi’s low, smug laughter echoing down the line before he can disconnect the call. Hotch turns back to Garcia, who gives him a grimace of a smile and a shrug. “That went about how I expected.”

“I actually thought it would be worse,” she tells him with a laugh, and Hotch can’t help but agree. “No communication yet, but there hasn’t been an ambulance sent out from the site, as of two minutes ago. So that’s good news, right?”

“Yes,” Hotch answers, even though his mind whirls at all the reasons it could be bad news and still fit that scenario.

He’ll just have to wait until Rossi makes it to Pasadena, finds Spencer, and can re-enter the land of cell service once more.

However long that might take.

Spencer sighs through his nose as he helps the paramedic hold one of his doctoral students still, applying burn treatments to their scalded arm as the young man babbles a stream of nonsense that might have been some kind of explanation. At least it was a form of apology, but Spencer isn’t the one he needs to apologize to.

“I’m so sorry, Dr. Reid,” the 22-year-old sobs, wincing at the paramedic’s medical application once more. “We didn’t think it would combust, we didn’t account for--”

“The parameters of extra weight and testing it outside experimental procedures, I know Jesse,” Spencer sighs, wiping at his own face and smudging more soot there as he does. His clothes are covered in it, and damp as well from the building sprinklers. He does everything in his power to not think about his books in his office, or his half written papers and experiments he’s been conducting personally -- or any of his students’ work. Years of experiments and dissertations and data, gone up in flames if the fire spreads beyond the lab.

He had sealed in the fire as best he could, they have safety protocols in place for this very thing after all, but not everyone had their data backed up. And then with the cell tower knocked out with the explosion, and the landlines a mess from the electromagnetic currents running rampant through the campus, there’s no saying what protocols were still online to keep the whole building from going up in smoke.

“I’m still so sorry, I didn’t mean for it to happen,” the poor kid feels terrible, that much is obvious, and the pain stimuli doesn’t help his emotional state. Hence why Spencer is consoling him before he has to go convince his other doctoral students that life is still worth living if they have to start from scratch on their dissertations.

“He doesn’t seem to be exhibiting any smoke inhalation symptoms that aren’t severe. But I’m still going to take him to get checked at the E.R,” the paramedic relays as she finishes up with his burn wounds.

“We have to wait until we’re clear to leave the scene, it’s a science lab there’s too many unknown chemicals and variants,” Spencer tells her with no room for argument. His student, Jesse Simmons, was still having a very severe freak out -- and Spencer was doing his best to console him so he has more information on the explosion, but it’s been a while since he had to use any kind of bedside manner training outside a classroom. “Jesse, I need you to try and breathe evenly, and tell me if anything doesn’t seem right.”

“Pretty sure I’m hallucinating,” Jesse tells him, dazed and manic and in shock all at once.

“Yeah, that would do it,” the paramedic murmurs under her breath, sharing a look with Dr. Reid.

“What are you seeing?” Spencer asks.

“David Rossi.”

“The true crime author?” The paramedic asks in confusion. Spencer can’t help but be in agreement at it’s randomness.

“Yes, you should take him in. I’ll see if the hazmat teams have decontaminated the lab yet and take a look around for what he might have inhaled--”

“Is one you Dr. Reid?”

They all look up and there, in broad daylight, is a famously familiar face watching them expectantly in a black and grey suit.

The paramedic is the first to speak.

“Holy shit, it’s David Rossi.”

Spencer blinks, running mental cognizant tests to make sure he’s not out of sorts. But mass hallucinations wouldn’t apply as a side effect, here, so he clears his throat and tucks hair behind his ear -- no doubt smudging more soot on his face but he needs to look at least a little bit put together like the department head he is.

“Um -- yes, hi, I’m Dr. Reid,” he tells the older man, fully turning towards him only to be met by mild surprise. Mild only in that Mr. Rossi appears to be a very subdued man. But his eyebrows raise, looking him over openly, and Spencer has to fight the urge not to scowl. He hates being judged for his age more and more with each passing day -- Hotch has brought that out in him, and the ever looming day that they get the chance to meet. “How can I help you Mr. Rossi? I don’t usually shake hands, but I’m also covered in--” he gestures to the soot and ash covering his suit. Or what’s left of it. There’s singe marks on his pants and his jacket is removed, never to return. The item a lost cause after he’d used it to shield Jesse’s face as he dragged him from the lab.

Mr. Rossi holds up a hand, indicating it’s no trouble -- not too fond of formal gestures and greeting, either, it seems -- and puts his hands in his pockets instead.

“Aaron sent me,” is his answer, paired with a patient stare that observes every minute twitch of Spencer’s face and body language. He knows this easily, can see the profiler in him turned all the way up to 11, and suddenly -- Spencer can’t control his face or appearance in the slightest. Not after --

Aaron? As in--

“Hotch?”

The kid looks stricken, surprised with tinges of worry bleeding through.

“Hotch sent--” his eyebrows knit together in confusion, looking in the direction of the fire crews still trying to put out the building behind them. The lab explosion is still a fresh occurrence, smoke streaming into the sky and no one even allowed to leave the scene, yet. Garcia must have gotten the alert the moment it happened.

“Penelope has you on a friends and family list,” Rossi explains. “She is alerted as soon as there’s any trouble with anyone -- and the cell towers are down. Aaron called me as soon as he couldn’t get ahold of you. Probably pacing a hole in the floor of his office as we speak.”

There’s a fondness in the way one side of Dr. Reid’s lips tilt into a small, surprised smile, gaze far away as if trying to see 3,000 miles across the country. A complicated mix of touched that Hotch was worried about him, and sorry for worrying him in the first place -- although the moment he recognizes Rossi profiling him where he stands, he schools his expression into one hell of a poker face. Even Dave is impressed, the kid has some gumptcha about him after all.

“He moves fast,” Dr. Reid murmurs, again fond and maybe a little embarrassed, heightened when Dave snorts and raises an eyebrow at him.

“You would know better than me.”

Okay, so he might be trying to rile the man up, but Aaron is obviously head over heels for this kid and Rossi is nothing if not thorough in his scrutiny of his prospects.

The kid gapes at him, eyes narrowed again and about to say something when the paramedic interrupts them with, “Dr. Reid, I just got the okay to take him to the hospital. Are you riding along?” He turns and addresses her, as Rossi continues to profile him beneath the soot and damp. A slight thing, tall as Aaron is and dressed like a movie extra in a prohibition flick. Taking the academia style to a new extent, probably to counter his age if he’s had his doctorates as long as it looks like he has. What had Aaron said? Five Ph.D.’s and runs three departments, and he’s 30? That’s not just a genius, that’s unprecedented. Dave is surprised no one from the bureau snatched him up while he was still young and impressionable.

“Jesse, just call or text if you need anything, I’ll talk with the dean and try to get things at least marginally smoothed over,” he assures the younger student, and they see off the ambulance as it pulls out of the over-crowded parking lot, sirens blaring. “I apologize, this isn’t a common occurrence around here.” He’s giving Dave his own appraising looks, now, and he can’t help but be amused as well as curious in his speculation. “You know Hotch -- Aaron, from the BAU, then?” he phrases it like a question, but they both know the answer and Rossi lets the formality slide. The kid is used to speaking with people not on his level of perception, just intellect.

“We’ve worked together off and on a long time,” Dave tells him, face as open yet stoic as Dr. Reid’s. “I’ve known him since he was your age, fresh and green from the prosecutor’s office. He was running out of the Seattle field office, back then. Bright and eager thing that he was.”

That draws another smile to Dr. Reid’s face. The same soft, sentimental one that definitely looks smitten if Dave’s ever seen it. “I’d love to hear some of those stories,” he admits, and Rossi nods slowly in agreement.

“I’m sure you would.” It comes off a little condescending, even he will admit, and that tugs a frown back onto the young doctor’s face. “I’m a good storyteller. Made a living off of it.”

“I’ve read all your books, I’m aware,” Dr. Reid says, and there’s a tone in his voice that says Rossi need not be impressed that he’s done so. The kid must read a lot, if it causes such a small blip on his radar. “And from the eleventh chapter of your third book, as well as the seventh chapter and acknowledgements of your second one if I can be so bold to assume, you seem to have some underground ties with the Italian mafia as well. Unofficially.”

Okay, the kid is sharp.

“Unofficially,” Dave parrots, a tease of a smile on his face. Impressed. “Did you work that out on your own? Or would some of my… old friends know of you if I mentioned your name?”

“Not unless they have ties in Vegas,” he says cryptically, hands in his pockets and continuing to peak Rossi’s curiosity by the minute.

“Vegas? Got into trouble there one weekend?”

“I’m from Vegas, born and raised,” the kid reveals. “And I’ve been banned from every casino floor for my card counting abilities and algorithms in poker and slot machine statistics.”

Vegas, huh. “Well, that explains the poker face,” Dave tells him, making a circular motion to his own which still mirrors Dr. Reid’s in not giving anything away.

Aaron picked a winner, it seems.

“So, is this is your version of… what do they call it… a ‘shovel talk’?”

Dave decides to play the part. “You could say that.”

He pauses, then, the two having progressed through the equivalent of a verbal chess match and Rossi already has a highly different opinion of him than he had walking in. First impressions are a bitch, and apparently he is going to continue to be surprised. Dr. Reid licks his lips in a unique nervous tick and chooses his next words very carefully, if the prolonged quiet was anything to go by. “I’m glad Hotch has a friend like you, that treats him like family.”

“He is family.” Dave would do anything for Hotch, and he is vehemently reminded of that in this moment. “I love that man as if he were my own son, so you understand why I’m protective of him. After everything he’s been through, he doesn’t deserve another second of trouble, and he has been through enough for a lifetime. More than you could ever know.”

Dr. Reid crosses his arms then, his first tell, but it’s a purposeful one. His way of leveling with Dave about something they probably shouldn’t be speaking about in public like this, but Dave wanted to get the kid on his toes. Make him uncomfortable. He’s smart as a tack but does he have the heart to go with it? The kind that Aaron deserves?

“... I do know. We’ve… discussed it, a couple of times.”

“Really?” The kids nods. “All of it? Foyet? Haley? Jack?” He still nods. “So you do know about Jack. You’re aware that Aaron isn’t just a one man show, he’s a package deal.”

“Of course I know about Jack,” Dr. Reid says with a more intense frown. “We talk about him all the time. I’ve even talked with him on the weekends here and there; he’s a sweet, smart kid. Hotch loves him more than anything, how could I not know about him?”

“You’ve spoken with Jack?” Rossi is genuinely surprised by this. Aaron wouldn’t have introduced them if this was still an experimental thing. He’s only asking all the uncomfortable questions because they need to be asked, Dave worries about Aaron all the time and how lonely he’s been -- but the past months or even longer he’s been better. Happier. All because of this kid. Every sign and notion here is pointing towards this being a very serious thing -- and they haven’t even met.

The kid seems to read his mind, because he looks at least a little sheepish when he nods. “We’ve been talking for a year, now,” as if that was somehow an explanation. And in a way, it is. A year is a very long time. Hotch trusts him enough to introduce him to his son, even over the phone, and that’s no small step. Rossi needs to at least appreciate that much.

“So -- genius, accomplished, good with kids. Seems like Aaron has struck gold, finding you.”

Dr. Reid is watching him again through squinted eyes, guard all the way up and frown ever so slight -- but more intense for it. Interesting. “I can’t tell if you’re making fun of me or not.”

“I was, but not in a bad way,” Dave explains, and that deepens the frown on the kid’s face. Although it loses a lot of the seriousness when he does. “I’ll keep grilling you in the car.”

“--the car?”

“Yes. You’ve been cleared to leave the scene, and I’m assuming you would like to chance clothes,” he indicates to Reid’s ruined suit, the kid looking down at himself and trying to dust off some of the soot that has soaked into the fabric. “Also, we should probably call Aaron before he has an aneurysm. Hmm?”

“Yeah, I suppose so.” It’s clear he knows Dave’s game, but is going to play along with it anyway. He really looks uncomfortable in those dirty clothes. Dave has an inkling the kid might be a bit of a germaphobe, which will be interesting in a house with a six-year-old boy, but that’s counting the chickens before they hatch and Dave has quite a bit more profiling to do before he’s made a decision about this Dr. Spencer Reid.

Although, his gut is telling him that Aaron might have indeed struck gold, somehow.

It’s in Mr. Rossi’s rental car that Spencer finally enters a area with cell service, his phone buzzing in his hands from missed calls and voicemails and messages alike. Apparently, word had spread fast about the explosion in his building -- it was nice to know that so many people were worried about him.

But he ignores them all, and dials Aaron’s single missed call back. It barely rings more than once before the man picks up.

“Spencer?”

“You are such a show off,” Spencer scolds gently, with no heat but more than a little amusement. “You had David Rossi come and check up on me?”

“--Dave is actually an old friend of mine and we work together, he owes me more favors than I can count. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Spencer assures him, quiet and enamored all over again. “One of my students miscalculated a calibration in their experimental combustion engine and it set the lab on fire. Everyone is out safe and the student suffered minor burns, although I’m pretty sure he’s getting suspended for this.”

“But you are okay?”

“When I saw him he looked a little like a chimney sweep, but he seems no worse for wear,” Rossi says next to him, out of the blue and loud inside the car cab. Spencer winces as Hotch sighs heavily through the phone.

“I don’t have you on speaker, I swear,” Spencer says quietly.

“No, Dave just has ears like a fox.” The other man groans. “No conversation is private, especially with him sitting right next to you. Hi Dave.”

“Hi Aaron, anyone else with you.”

“I am! Hi Dr. Reid,” Garcia chirps cheerfully in the background, bringing another smile to Spencer’s face. “I’m glad you’re alright, sugar bean. You had us worried sick.”

“I know, I’m so sorry Ms. Garcia--”

“Sweetie, you better just start calling me Penelope because -- if Rossi didn’t tell you -- you’re on the BAU family radar now. I’ve always got my eyes on you.”

Spencer laughs as her voice gets a little farther away, Hotch back to pacing the room and probably shooting her a look that doesn’t quite meet reprimand but is on the spectrum of scolding. He recognizes the tone from evenings when Jack is being over zealous in wanting his turn with Spencer on the phone.

“Where are you now?”

“Mr. Rossi is just driving me home so I can change clothes, but I need to go right back afterwards and assess the damage,” Spencer relays to him. “Talk some of my students off the ledge if they have to start their research dissertations over.”

“Okay. Just, be careful.” There’s such a heavy sense of worry and the frown so evident on his face that Spencer can’t help but want to smooth it out in any way he can.

“Of course. I’ll message you when we have cell service again, or when I get back home if we don’t.” It’s a needless assurance, but he hopes it helps ease Hotch’s still very obvious apprehension.

“Alright, I’ll call you later tonight.”

“Okay, sounds good.”

There’s a heavier pause, then. An unspoken word or several that hang very prominently in the air, and Spencer almost thinks he hears Hotch’s mouth part around them -- about to speak before he stops himself. Spencer knows his brow furrows in confusion, his own mouth open about to ask if he’s alright when--

“-- Bye, Spencer.”

“... Goodbye.” He adds, still confused, a little stunned and feeling like he’s missing something, which is not a place Spencer finds himself in often. Very suddenly lost in contemplation after Hotch hangs up, still looking at his phone.

Beside him, Rossi doesn’t look confused at all. In fact, he looks like something was just confirmed to him, and he makes a sound in his throat of affirmation.

“-- I think I hear church bells ringing.”

It takes Spencer more than a moment to understand what he’s indicating, and he has to tamper back any embarrassment or admonishment because… it’s not like he hasn’t thought about it.

“I’d settle for just hearing his voice across the room,” he admits quietly, still cradling his phone in his hands and glancing out the window to keep any open-ness in his expression from the seasoned profiler.

“Hmm… time will tell.”

Spencer stays deep in thought the rest of the drive, and Rossi blessedly leaves him be as they make their way through the streets of Pasadena.

They arrive at Spencer’s apartment complex not ten minutes later. A small series of two story white stone buildings with terracotta roofing, making it appear more like an Italian villa than temporary housing. Spencer explained, after Mr. Rossi inquired, that this was the faculty transitional housing, and he spent a lot of his doctorate years here since he had been too young to sign a lease on his own apartment or house. When he came of age, he just bought out his condo on the end to keep, as it had become more his home than Vegas had ever been. Then, when he returned after his doctorates at MIT he became somewhat of the permanent resident for everyone to turn to about anything on the campus.

“How did you afford a condo at 18?” Mr. Rossi inquires, and Spencer rolls his lips to keep any kind of smirk or smile off his face.

“Like I said, I was kicked out of every casino in Vegas. I also don’t have any student loan debt,” he adds flippantly, unbuckling his seat belt once Rossi has parked outside. Turning to the older man, he decides to cut to the chase -- because he does really want to change his clothes. “I assume you’re about to invite yourself in for coffee--”

“Oh? I thought you’d never ask.”

“So you can profile my living room while I change clothes? Sure, why not.” How dangerous could that be?

It’s more than apparent that Mr. Rossi knows Hotch well, holds him in high regard, and if Hotch has him on speed dial at a moment’s notice he must be someone that’s important in Hotch’s life… and he is also the first person that Spencer has met to fit that entitlement. As loathe as he is to admit it, Spencer finds craves the approval of the older man that he and Hotch are as good for each other as he hopes they are.

Maybe letting him poke around his apartment would help in that endeavor. After all, Spencer really doesn’t have anything to hide.

Dr. Reid’s apartment very much looks like the inside of a professor’s office, but extended to multiple rooms. There’s custom built bookshelves lining the walls of the living space, turning it into a library that is overflowing with books, and yet there are still more stacked in every room. In the kitchen against the backwash, in his actual office organized on low-rise shelves that hold collector’s editions even Dave raises an eyebrow at, and he doesn’t dare venture into the kid’s bedroom but he bets there’s even more books there as well. Art work from no known artists Rossi has ever heard of are framed on the walls, abstract things that are interesting and interpretive and probably belong to students (though not necessarily the doctor’s own), and there’s an absurd amount of coffee in his kitchen but at least the kid has taste.

His interests are varied, extensive, sophisticated, and yet -- in the corners he’ll find vintage Doctor Who figurines, Halloween decorations, a well-worn chess set sun-bleached under the window seat, and Go set up in the library that looks like he’s playing himself. But the most lived in room is his office, and Dave has a very good inkling why. Besides the kid’s work literally being his life, as is shown by the doctorate degrees lining the walls there, his laptop is open and the keys near faded from typing, and Dave knows it’s from countless late nights talking with Aaron. Because Aaron’s work laptop that he takes home with him looks the exact same.

“Did you learn anything?” Dr. Reid asks, appearing in the doorway in corduroys and a sweater vest over a new button down and tie ensemble. The layering helps fill him out, make him look less willowy than he is, and he seems to have tried to tame his hair but it’s still a curled, disheveled mess from the sprinkler systems at the lab. The kind of disheveled people pay hundreds of dollars to get through product alone.

“That you really, really like books.”

It’s such an absurd thing to say, and it takes the kid a beat but he laughs and there’s a set of dimples there on his face framing his wide smile and -- oh, Aaron is in trouble when he meets this kid.

“Um, yes, astute observation.”

“Have you actually read all of them?” Dave asks, peering into a glass china cabinet that’s been converted to hold very delicate first editions of Shakespeare and Proust and a few things that aren’t in English.

“Those I have, but the rest I haven’t,” Dr. Reid tells him, coming up on the other side of the desk and keeping a few feet between them. Allowing Rossi to continue to pick apart his life, indicating either some kind of power play or… this kid really has nothing to hide that he thinks Dave won’t find. Or that Aaron doesn’t already know about. “When I was visiting Prague for a conference once I was invited to the French ambassador's house for dinner. He has a library even larger than mine, and I asked him the same thing. He told me, ‘No, of course not, and I also haven’t sampled all the bottles in my wine cellar.’ ”

Dave ticks his head to the side in thought, and can’t help but agree. “Smart man. A real library isn’t for showing off a collection, it’s for giving yourself options.”

“All books are just waiting for the right time to be read, and I’ll get to them all eventually,” Dr. Reid shrugs, glancing around his office at titles that probably have been calling to him recently. “I read very fast, and once I’ve read them I either give them to people I think would enjoy them or I donate them.”

“Why not keep them? Won’t you want to read them again?”

“No need, I have an eidetic memory. I can recall everything I’ve read verbatim,” he says with a shrug, like it’s a common occurrence and Dave can’t help but stare at the kid. Who exactly was this guy?

“Why on Earth are you working at a university and not for a multi-million dollar think tank? Or for us? The bureau had to have contacted you at some point.”

“Oh, they did,” Dr. Reid says with a half smile, glancing to the chess board under the window. Avoiding eye contact that lasts longer than a few moments. “Jason Gideon tried for months when I was at MIT, but I backed out at the last minute. Don’t think he’s ever forgiven me for it.”

“That sounds like Jason,” Dave mutters, recalling his old partner and what he would have thought of a boy genius that soaks up everything he reads like a sponge. Doctorates already under his belt and just waiting to be molded into the perfect successor. He would have been chomping at the bit. Dave had been much the same about Aaron, when he first met him.

There’s much to consider about this Dr. Spencer Reid, but there’s also a handful of things to be wary of.

The kid is impressive, that’s for sure -- but he’s buried into this villa like a tick, under a pile of books and very much is used to a bachelor’s life. Everything is impeccably neat, the amount of soap and hand sanitizer he’s found does indeed confirm his theories of him being a bit of a germaphobe, and although there is a lot of stuff around his apartment everything also has its place. Cluttered, but lived in and cared for. If he and Aaron were really going to try and be a thing, would he be surprised by Aaron’s more minimal approach to décor? To his tendency to hold on to nostalgia items? Or the messiness of a young boy’s toys and children's amenities taking up all space and corners left unattended?

“You sure you know what you’re doing?” Dave asks, before he really thinks about it, and the beat of silence as Dr. Reid takes his question seriously is more comforting than he realized it would be.

“No. But, I don’t think either of us really do,” Dr. Reid admits, leaning against his desk, thoughtful and honest. “What we have has... very much grown all on it’s own.” And Dave believes him, he’s seen it happen first hand. How it’s affected Aaron so slowly and over such a span of time he almost didn’t notice it.

Almost.

“And the long distance thing works?” Dave pries further, skepticism barely kept out of his voice but there enough he knows the kid can hear it. “You really have feelings for a man you’ve never even met? Who you don’t even know?”

That gets the younger man’s attention, and not in the way Rossi thought it would. His gaze snaps up, shocked, and… offended.

“Of course I know him,” he states, quiet and matter-of-fact. Light brown eyes as alight as they are defiant. “I know him better than I know anyone. I just don’t know what he looks like, and that doesn’t matter. Not to me.”

Again, Rossi almost believes him. He sounds like he means it, in a near naïve sort of way, but Dave has been around the block a time or two and experience tells him differently.

“Looks always matter.”

The kid shrugs in response, not at all fazed by his stubbornness. “I have a pretty accurate spoken description, if that eases your mind.” And oh, does Dave want to unpack that one, but this isn’t the time to delve into it when he’s giving the kid the intellectual third-degree.

“Does he have one of you?” he asks, accusing without specifications. Everyone always keeps a bit of themselves at bay, when speaking to another person, but if they were sharing physical descriptions then it sounds like those barriers are falling away bit by bit and there’s no knowing what Aaron has actually shared of himself to this kid.

His question creates a moment of unexpected pause.

“Yes? I mean, I cut my hair recently but I’m sure I mentioned it,” he murmurs, suddenly a little concerned, and Dave almost finds himself laughing.

All the skeletons he could have in his closet, and the first time this kid’s face has cracked is at the thought he forgot to mention he cut his hair.

Okay, Dave is sort of laughing. In utter disbelief, because the genuine-ness of this kid is near overpowering. He’s factual, he’s private, but he’s not sinister or plotting anything and he’s definitely got the quiet, book worm thing going for him. Maybe Aaron did strike gold, after all.

“Relax, kid, if a haircut is what you're most troubled about keeping from him I don’t think I have much to worry about.” The array of emotions that crosses the younger man’s face is almost comical. The frown at Dave calling him kid, the embarrassment that he’s worried he kept anything at all from his better half, to relief -- relief that Dave has given him a stamp of approval. It hits him then that the kid views him almost literally as the father-figure he had claimed himself to be to the other agent, and this was his version of meeting the parents.

Well, then, better make it worth the stereotype.

“Just… be careful with him,” Rossi levels with him, and Dr. Reid gives him his utmost attention. Direct eye-contact and all. “Don’t break his heart, because I don’t know if he will have much left over if you do. After the past couple years, I never thought he’d be the same, but he’s come back into himself and I’m grateful to you for that.” The softness in his face is palpable, and Dave knows the other man feels the weight of what he’s telling him. “But if you hurt him, I’ll make what happens after look like an accident. Capisci? ”

Dr. Reid nods seriously, and answers him back in kind, “Capisco.” The verb connotation actually catches Dave off guard, enough that his own expression finally softens into half a smile.

“Molto buona.”

“So… I talked with your boy toy.”

“God,” Hotch groans, head tipping back and already regretting answering his phone in the middle of the afternoon. “Do not call him that.”

“I just dropped him off back at the lab, it’s still a mad house but he went in looking to set a lot of people straight so I think he’ll be just fine.”

That’s a relief to hear, and Hotch feels his shoulders and spine begin to relax where they’d been tense and creating knots in his muscles for hours on end, ever since he’d been in Garcia’s office.

“Thank you, Dave,” he says, and means it more than he can really relay accurately. Rossi makes a sound of admonishment, passing it off as if he hadn’t made Hotch metaphorically bend over backwards to get him to go there. He can’t even imagine what the man had asked Spencer during their time alone together, but if anyone would get a good character assessment out of the interaction then it would be David Rossi.

The beat of silence is as heavy as it is long, and before Hotch can come up with something that doesn’t sound leading, Dave sighs and barrels over him.

“Go ahead, ask what you want to ask.”

“...What did you think?” Hotch’s words are low and careful, not entirely sure he wants Dave’s opinion but… he’s actually met Spencer, now. The only person Hotch knows who has. “What’s he like?”

“You know him better than I do, Hotch, and it’s obvious that you are head over heels for that kid. But if you really want to know what I think -- you are going to have your hands full, and you are going to fall hard and fast if you haven’t already.”

“Yeah, a little late for that,” Hotch tells him, hints of a smile in his voice and on his face, and the response surprises even himself. There’s a lot of revelations that have hit him one after the other today, and they all seem to be pointing towards the same direction.

Rossi can’t seem to help but smirk at him down the line, an upbeat sound in reaction to Aaron’s own subdued happiness -- because his friend really is, finally happy -- and of course it’s in an impossible situation. Now Hotch has to scoff a laugh. That sounds just like him.

“He’s quite a looker, too,” Rossi teases, baiting, and Hotch can’t help but scoff for a whole different reason, then.

“And how would you know?”

“I can appreciate a handsome fella without being attracted to them.”

“Sure, Dave,” Aaron deadpans, not even wanting to humor the man.

“Little too ‘pretty’ for my aesthetic, though--”

“O-kay, thanks again Dave. Happy to have your stamp of approval.” But he can’t help but wonder what ‘pretty’ is supposed to mean. “Have fun at your conference, I’m sure you’re going to be late to the cigar room.”

“Worth every missed minute to meet your mystery man.”

Hotch hangs up with a roll of his eyes, not sure how or why he picked up David Rossi as one of his close friends and not really finding much reason to keep him other than he has a whole lot of heart. But that’s always been reason enough. He turns with a half smile still on his face, and freezes when he sees Garcia in his doorway of his office, a secretive smile all her own on her neon bright pink lips. He doesn’t even reprimand her for sneaking up on him, just levels a look at her and mutters, “What?”

“For what it’s worth, he is very pretty,” she out right smirks, coy and loving Hotch’s reaction as he narrows his eyes at her, brow furrowed and searching. “What? I ran his background check months ago, I know exactly what he looks like. And Rossi is right, you’re going to be so smitten, sir.”

Oh no, now the whole team is going to know.

“I think I’m going to take your word for it over his,” Hotch admits, and relinquishes the smallest traces of a smile. Just for the tech analyst, and no one else. “Thanks, Garcia. For today, and for… keeping an eye on him.”

“Always, sir,” she tells him, biting back a too wide grin all her own. “It’s good to see you happy again, I’ve missed those dimples.”

“Garcia.”

“Right, on my way,” she giggles, and leaves in a colorful flurry of clicking heels and retro skirts.

Cell service doesn’t return that day to the CalTech campus, and although Hotch is acutely aware that Spencer is probably busy cleaning up the mess and wading through mountains of reactionary protocol and hazmat jurisdiction (he’s been there himself before, on cases with bioweaponry and science tech labs) he can’t help but feel like he’s holding his breath until later that evening. When Spencer finally messages him once he has the cell range to do so, letting him know he’s on his way home. Meaning Hotch had been left to his thoughts all afternoon and evening, awaiting the younger man’s presence once more.

And Hotch has had… much to think about.

They never really talked about Hotch’s near death experience months ago, when Spencer had quite literally saved his life with just a phone call. Day in and day out Hotch is faced with dangerous situations, knows all the proper procedures and training to navigate them safely and effortlessly. But when it comes to the unexpected accidents? The ones that occur outside his sphere of influence and control, he doesn’t always quite handle them the way he should. Either shutting down entirely in order to regain that control, or drowning in the emotional turmoil it can cause.

It isn’t until he hears Spencer’s voice on the phone later that night, just past dusk for the other man in California, that he’s able to put all of this in order. Unpack it in a way that he can articulate and convey, because Spencer knows just from the way he greets him that something is wrong. Weighing heavily on his mind, and has been for hours on end.

“Is it selfish of me to say I don’t like the idea of you in harm’s way?” Hotch starts with a jesting, rhetorical thing that doesn’t quite hit any kind of punchline.

“Well, luckily for you, I’m not in the profession of dangerous scenarios,” Spencer tells him, pointed and yet with an aim for comfort. Hotch supposes he had that one coming.

“Like me.”

“Like you. I always worry about you, although I know you’re more than capable.”

Hotch sighs, because he knows that Spencer puts up with this very situation constantly. Just as Haley had, when they’d been married, until she hadn’t been able to stand it any longer. “I just… don’t know what I would have done if you’d been hurt. Fly out there? Show up at the hospital, maybe -- that wouldn’t have been the greatest first impression, I’m sure.”

“I’d be mortified if we met and I was in a hospital bed.”

“You know I wouldn’t care.”

“I know.” It’s Spencer’s turn to sigh. He’s exhausted from the events of the day, Rossi’s visit and interrogation, but having the older man still so attentive and caring on the other line has him warm with too many emotions and chemicals to name. Even though he can, composition and all: a warm bath of monoamines, dopamine, neopinephrine and serotonins flooding through him. All seeped in phenethylamine, which is well known for creating the chemical reactionary symptoms of… well...

“Hotch, I’m okay,” Spencer insists, soft and gentle, tenderness there he doesn’t give to just anyone. “I’m not going anywhere, I promise.”

There’s a long silence following that. It’s heavy and prominent, and Hotch keeps opening his mouth, the words wanting to come out but… he doesn’t know if he should let them. A year’s worth of time and words piling up behind it until he isn’t sure he can really hold it back much longer.

“Hotch?” Spencer asks, worried again. “What is it?”

Another long pause, a sigh that’s… weighed down with even more emotion than before, and Spencer feels his own breath catch as he waits.

“I love you.”

It’s said so profoundly, softly, it resonates through the phone and Spencer finds he can’t even breathe.

A series of heartbeats progresses, and despite every attempt he can’t find his voice again.

“You don’t have to say it back, I just wanted you to know.”

Spencer’s brain kickstarts into a mild panic, and words suddenly spill forth like a broken damn.

“No! No, it’s not that -- you have no idea how long I -- I just…”

He’d had a plan, daydreams on daydreams, compounding and building and this wasn’t the moment he thought it would happen if it happened at all and Spencer finds himself near speechless with how it has appeared before him. Completely unprepared.

“I always thought… hoped, that when I told you I would… be saying it in person.”

Not through a phone. He wants one milestone that isn’t through the damn phone, his lifeline and his bane and what connects him to the man he can’t even imagine living without anymore.

Hotch makes a sound that’s more winded than vocal.

The thought of seeing Spencer in person sends a flurry of fluttering sensations through his chest and stomach, and Hotch can’t help the warm, soft smile on his face. Because between the lines, Spencer had already said it back, and that alone is enough to floor him. Spencer loves him, too, and he wants to say it to his face. He wants to meet. He’s thought about it, he was planning on it.

He wants --

“Then wait,” Hotch tells him, reassuring and adoring and unbelievably smitten -- just like Garcia had said. “Save it for then. I don’t mind the waiting.”

“But I --”

“I know.” Hotch all but sighs out the words, heavy and wonderful and full of promise. “I do know, Spencer, and the knowing is enough. You can tell me when we… when we meet.”

Some day. One day.

“Soon?”

“Soon. I promise.”

Spencer is… not crying, he doesn’t cry. Hasn’t cried in years and years, the only time close had been those months ago when this wonderful man almost slipped through his fingers and out of his grasp, but his vision goes blurry and it has nothing to do with his glasses steaming up. He takes them off and rubs at them, clearing his throat so he doesn’t choke out his response. “Okay.”

The strain in those two syllables makes Hotch’s heart ache, and Spencer’s feels so tightly wound in his chest the heart-strings are more than binding. They hurt they ache so badly.

“How can I miss you this much without ever having met you?”

“I miss you too,” Hotch smiles, sadly.

“Maybe that’s not the right word. We’re as close as we’ve ever been, how can we miss a proximity we’ve never experienced?”

“It feels like the right term, I don’t have another way to describe it. That’s your area of expertise, I believe.”

Spencer huffs a humorless laugh, curled up on his couch and realizes he wants to hear Hotch say it again. Wants those low tones in his ear reminding him why they are doing this. Knowing he has no right to ask that of Hotch when he won’t even return the favor.

Then Hotch breathes out happily, slowly, and says it anyway. “I love you.”

Spencer smiles and exhales in relief, a mix of a laugh and a strangled sob. “You always know.”

“I can hear you fretting through the phone--”

“Oh yeah? Any ideas to get me to stop?” he jokes, half kidding, because he feels like he’s shaking out of his skin and he can’t pinpoint the source.

“...One,” Hotch says with an amused lilt.

“Hm?”

A slow pause. “--What are you wearing?”

Spencer burst into laughter, high and hysterical, and relief floods through him. He bites his lip as he hears Hotch chuckle quietly in turn, and then answers the older man in the same teasing lilt -- bordering on coy. “Still in my work clothes. Actually… I was just about to get undressed.”

“Hmm, lucky me.”

“I was going to change, Hotch,” he laughs in reprimand.

“Oh, there’s no need for that…”

And they dissolve into quiet laughter once more, perfectly timed and blended and the most wonderful sound in the world.

–

(tbc…)

–

Tagged List: @spencehotchner @ssa-sarahsunshine @gothamapologist @reidology @marsjareau @dragon-snaps-fandom @emmyraebird @just-an-emo-rat @aaron-hotchner187 @dk18077 @more-heid-pls @fakin-it-til-i-make-it @merpancake @anxious-enby

#another super long one #I'm putting this on a timer so I hope to God it actually posts when it should #and that it isn't out of order #everyone form a prayer circle that this super duper long snippet isn't all out of order #thank you so much for reading I hope you all enjoy it #if you want in on the tags list I can always add to it just hit me up #Correspondence #HotchReid #heid #katyswriting

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thebibliomancer · 3 years ago

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Essential Avengers: Avengers #261: EARTH and BEYOND!

November, 1985

Oh god, Secret Wars II continues in this issue...

And it looks like Beyonder and his silly Stryfe-putting-to-shame armor is going to feature prominently in this issue? Being on the cover? Looming over the background?

I’ll try to keep an open mind. I’ve argued that Secret Wars II had at its very core some interesting ideas so now I’ll put my money in my mouth. And just hope that not a lot of other issues are integral to this issue. I only want to handle one issue at a time for a while.

SO.

Last times on Avengers: Vision sent Captain Monica Marvel into space to distract her from his world-takeover attempt (which the Avengers talked him out of later) and despite it being a several hours long snipe hunt, Monica still manages to get kidnapped to another galaxy by (Thanos’ granddaughter?) Nebula.

Monica winds up joining up with the Skrull armada against Nebula and manage to send the Avengers a message. The Avengers show up and also join the Skrulls in fighting Nebula although the Beyonder teleports her to ??? before the Avengers can capture her.

Then, they had a side adventure while they were IN SPACE to a Skrull power asteroid where a Skrull mad scientist and a power mad Skrull extremist set off a bomb that mode-locks all Skrulls so they can’t shapeshift anymore.

Bummer for them.

The Avengers have to return from their adventure to the power asteroid to tell cool guy General Zedrao the bad news.

The Skrull armada soldiers actually take it pretty well, all told.

I guess because they’re soldiers and not spies or miscellaneous, they didn’t get as much use out of the shapeshifting. Even though you’d think there’d be combat applications for anyone the least bit creative.

One of the soldiers says hey everyone here still has their true Skrull face and also are the heroes that helped stop Nebula. Plus, they get the Sanctuary II as a cool addition to the Skrull armada.

‘Um, no,’ says Starfox.

The same soldier is like yeah how you going to stop us from taking it, while his Skrull buddy is like ‘stfu man!’ but Starfox has a very simple fix to what to do with Thanos’ flagship warship.

He just implodes it the fuck... uh not up. In? Implodes it the fuck in?

Point being, nobody gets it.

The Skrull soldier complains to General Zedrao like complaining to mom that somebody broke a toy but Zedra tells him to suck it up. It was Starfox’s because Skrulls respect blood-right when it comes to salvage. Thanos built it, Thanos dead, Starfox gets it. And he can blow it up if he wants to.

Zedrao does suggest maybe the Avengers gtfo because there’s liable to be a mutiny if they keep hanging around.

Firelord still doesn’t trust the Skrulls and is sure that this is a Skrull trick to blow up the Avengers as soon as they’re all off any Skrull ships but Wasp tells him to stfu.

Wasp: “Firelord, shut up! Zedrao has earned the Avengers’ trust -- which is more than I can say for you!”

Captain Monica points out too that Zedrao is the one who sent out the rescue party that found Firelord passed out on some moon and brought him back for healing.

Firelord: “That I should be indebted to a Skrull -- ! Astounding!”

Hercules: “‘Tis a debt you can repay by leaving with us in peace!”

I have a feeling that Firelord is definitely a contender for Avengers’ least favorite guest star. Although, looking at the cover, I wonder if that’s going to change.

While the Avengers go to leave, General Zedrao stops them for one last word.

General Zedrao: “One moment, Avengers. My race has waged war across the stars for millions of years -- we have made few allies. Our races have been hated enemies, yet you fought alongside us against Nebula as though we were your own kind! I do not fully understand such selflessness, but I feel strangely honored by it. May your courage endure!”

Captain America, doing a salute because of course he is: “Goodbye, general. if we meet again, may it be as allies once more!”

Seriously. Zedrao seems rad. It doesn’t seem like he has more appearances and that’s a shame. Boo and hiss.

So the Avengers take off in Starfox’s dad’s ship and warps through sub-space Earthways.

While Firelord is still bewildered that Skrulls were not complete dicks at him and Hercules angles that into an excuse to tell the story of the Argo, as Wasp watches space TV apparently, while Black Knight is still more awed by FTL travel than anything he’s seen traveling time and dimensions, Captain Steve worries that the weirdo they saw in space was the Beyonder which can only mean trouble.

But that gets put to the wayside because Starfox announces he’s leaving the Avengers.

He claims that its just wanderlust but Captain Marvel sees right through him that he’s been acting out of sorts since Nebula got away and guesses correctly that Starfox is going after her.

Starfox admits this and that it may be a family matter since Nebula claims to be Thanos’ grand-daughter.

Captain America: “Good lord!”

I don’t know if Cap is thinking ‘good lord, another Thanos??’ or ‘good lord, Thanos fucks??’ because he’s going to be very disappointed if its the latter reaction. Thanos fucks so, so much.

I think Thanos might fuck more than his brother Eros, ironically.

Wasp: “Why didn’t you tell us before?”

Starfox: “Because Nebula is my personal responsibility. Had I acted less recklessly, she might have been captured. And if she is Thanos’ grand-daughter, I have a familial duty to stop her. The rest of you Avengers are of the Earth -- you are needed here! BUt I have no roots, no bonds... not even to my birth-world of Titan. I’ve wandered the cosmos for most of my life. I stand the best chance of finding Nebula and bringing her to justice.”

Firelord offers to come help since he is also a wanderer and also has a justice duty since Nebula destroyed his homeworld of Xandar.

Starfox’s response, hilariously, is a sour expression and a “Very well, if you must.”

Hahaha, yeah, Firelord is DEFINITELY the Avengers’ least favorite guest star.

For some reason and despite knowing Starfox only a few weeks, Black Knight apparently takes it hardest of all, feeling like he’s losing a brother.

I wonder if that’s one of those Black Knight Plot Hooks, like later on where he’ll keep staring at Exodus and going ‘I swear I know this guy from somewhere.’

Starfox says he’ll miss being an Avenger but Cap says that they’ll just put him on the inactive roster. Its not like if you leave you can never join again.

Instead of swinging by Earth, Starfox just launches the Avengers’ Quinjet out of his ship while they’re still in sub-space but pointed largely in the direction of Earth.

The Quinjet, not being designed for sub-space gets buffeted around a lot but Starfox was pretty positive that the ship could take it. And all they have to do is follow a navigation course he entered into the Quinjet navigation computer, which it definitely has, to a natural warp nexus that’ll pop them out near Earth.

Very near Earth. Like right in its orbit.

As they go, Firelord comments:

Firelord: “How is it that so insignificant a race could produce such heroes?”

Starfox: “You underestimate them. An old friend once told me that Earth’s humanity has a glorious destiny... and I never knew him to be wrong.”

Was that Mar-Vell? I’m not getting the reference. Editorial captions, why have you failed me?

Also, the funny thing is that Earth’s glorious destiny is to take over all of space with the power of Rick Jones’ bullshit reality warping. Thankfully, that future did not refuse to change.

So. That’s it for Starfox on the Avengers.

I don’t believe he’ll be a constant member of the roster again but he’ll appear in the Avengers book again.

As a member of the Avengers... he was fine. Aside from his ‘pleasure power’ he’s kind of just a boring flying brick. Even considering the wrinkle they tried to give him with light gravity powers.

It was fun that he just wanted to be the party Avenger but kept having to be the science Avenger or serious Avenger but not as much as could have been done with it was.

I feel more could have been done with him joining the Avengers for adventure and finding that it also involved a lot of training and, I dunno, paperwork? I assume the Avengers do paperwork sometimes.

In a lot of ways Starfox was mainly around to facilitate Vision’s arc and found something else to do once Vision’s arc was over.

He seemed like he would have had more to do with She-Hulk if She-Hulk weren’t suddenly shuffled over to the Fantastic Four book instead.

But: he wasn’t as bad as I was fearing so there’s that. Just a solid member of the team even if not the most interesting person present.

Anyway.

The Avengers arrive back on Earth and Captain Marvel takes off immediately lightspeed nyoom because she’s been lost in space for weeks and needs to let her family know she’s okay.

She arrives in New Orleans a fraction of a second after nyooming and appears in her parent’s home in a literal flash.

It’s nice to have some family as a supporting cast on the book.

Monica’s parents were clearly worried about her when they weren’t able to reach her for days but accept her explanation because she’s an adult and just get to feeding her.

Which Monica is totally down for. Since she lost a couple pounds when she overwhelmed the Sanctuary II’s shields.

I dunno, it just feels like any family that shows up in Avengers are Huge Drama Bombs like Magneto or. Y’know. Literally everything that just happened with Vision and Wonder Man and Grim Reaper.

Does Black Knight have any living family? Not yet he doesn’t! Wasp doesn’t seem to either, neither does Cap. Hercules Avenges to get some time AWAY from his family.

So I like that Monica just has a normal family situation.

Also, a very nice touch that Frank Rambeau goes from picking at his cold cereal to offering to cook up a huge breakfast for everyone once Monica shows up.

Meanwhile, in New York, the Avengers finally return to Avengers’ Mansion after their space adventures in space. And boy is Jarvis glad to see them.

While they were gone, a weird man showed up to see the Avengers and Jarvis felt compelled to let him in. Jarvis told the man that the Avengers were up IN SPACE so the guy goes oh ok i’ll go find them and teleports away.

Then reappeared an hour later muttering about how he’d made a mess of things.

We remember that. He teleported Nebula away because he very literally interpreted things that Firelord said and then everyone yelled at him.

Cap remembers that too and deduce guesses from context that the visitor to the Mansion was in fact the very same weirdo they met in space.

Captain America: “And given the kind of power he’s throwing around, I’m sure that he’s the Beyonder! One thing is certain though -- we must give the highest priority to tracking him down!”

Jarvis then has to politely cough and say actually there may be a higher priority and hands Wasp a letter delivered by government courier some hours ago. The letter is from the Federal Aviation Administration and it says the Avengers only have 30 days to move their Quinjets out of the city!

That wacky government is up to their ol’ shenanigans again!

Something like that was bound to happen since Henry Peter Gyrich is all up in the Avengers’ business again and the Avengers are losing their special government privileges due to that whole Vision trying to take over the world thing.

They lost their Quinjet launch rights back in the Korvac Saga too and had to take a bus to the battle against the all-powerful doofus. That was fun.

And now there’s another all-powerful doofus in the mix.

History really does repeat.

So the real highest priority is for Cap and Wasp to go to Washington, D.C. the next morning to talk to Mr. Fenton of the FAA.

Wasp: “But, Mr. Fenton, we need easy access to our Quinjets! We often have to respond to trouble around the world in a matter of minutes!”

Mr. Fenton: “I see your problem, but I can’t allow the continuance of a private jetport for supersonic aircraft in the heart of Manhattan. Especially considering the highly volatile aviation fuel you store there! You were originally allowed an exemption for your ‘Quinjet facility’ only because of your special government clearance. And what with the Security Council restructuring their clearance -- the FAA has decided to cancel that exemption. You really should move your base of operations to a safer location!”

Captain America: “At least grant us an extension on that 30-day limit, man! Right now, the world faces a menace of unspeakable power who could strike anywhere, at anytime!”

Mr. Fenton: “Oh, really? And just what might this menace be?”

Hah!

Beyonder: “It is allowable to call you ‘Cap’, isn’t it? The Wasp calls you that... and I heard Iron Man and Hawkeye call you that when we were in California!”

Very polite of the Beyonder to ask first.

Cap(tain America) tells Beyonder he just wants to talk and Beyonder goes “You do prefer to settle conflict with words, don’t you? Well, if you want to talk, you have to catch me first!”

And then takes off running.

I see Beyonder has decided to be one of those fun cosmic entities.

Mr. Felton asks if he should call the police but Cap says that if they can’t reason with him, all the armies in the world couldn’t help.

So, I guess its good he wants to be silly.

Wasp notes that the Beyonder moves and looks a bit like Cap which Cap has also noticed. Unbeknownst to either of them, the Beyonder decided to base his body on Cap’s because of him being peak human. But then gave himself a different haircut.

Since Wasp can navigate the crowd faster than Cap can, she zips around until she can zap him in the cheek.

The Beyonder stands stunned that she caught up to him which gives Cap the chance to catch up and hurl his mighty shield.

And whenever Captain America throws his mighty shield/all who oppose his shield must yield!

To gravity if nothing else.

Looking bemused at how quickly the two Avengers caught him and knocked him down, he comments he’ll have to try again and teleports away.

All very confusing and worrying to the Avengers.

When a cosmic entity decides to play tag on Earth, it just causes anxiety.

If nothing else, Cap’s worried that the Beyonder might start some kind of Secret War II on Earth.

Twenty-four hours later, Black Knight and Hercules are visiting Project Pegasus in the Catskill Mountains.

Since the Avengers have helped out Project Pegasus multiple times, the Avengers are hoping that Project Pegasus will build them some sort of... Beyonder tracker.

And Dr. Clark of the cosmic ray research unit is just the man for the job.

Based on the recorded emission of high-level cosmic radiation the Avengers got off of the Beyonder, Dr. Clark believes they can create a triangulation network to find him.

Black Knight: “Whatever it takes, let’s do it! We must find our man!”

Dr. Clark: “All right, then. I’ll contact... eh?”

The Beyonder, appearing right behind them: “What a marvelous collection of devices! How do they work? What do they do? May I flip some switches?”

Maybe they should have let him flip some switches.

Instead of what they actually do.

Hercules tries to bear hug the Beyonder into submission but makes the mistake of telling him that its impossible to break his grip.

So Beyonder tries, by blowing Project Pegasus a new one.

And credit where its due! He does break Hercules’ grip!

Hercules: “Hounds of Hades... ne’er have I felt such bludgeoning power... Not from the fists of the Hulk, not from the hammer of Thor, not even -- father forgive me -- from the thunderbolts of Zeus! What manner of power does this Beyonder possess?!?”

It’s weird that he says bludgeoning power. You don’t typically think of an explosion as bludgeoning despite it having a lot of kinetic force.

Maybe he headbutted Hercules?

Since Hercules has been blown away, it leaves Black Knight to try to fight the Beyonder now.

Despite Black Knight really not wanting to. Because of that aforementioned bit where he blew Hercules away and tore Project Pegasus a new one.

Black Knight just has a sword. It doesn’t even angst nuke yet.

But the Beyonder is only intrigued by Black Knight waving a sword at him.

Beyonder: “I am not overly familiar with swordplay. Show me how it’s done!”

And then he grows a bunch of hands wielding swords from the ground for Black Knight to fight.

Uh, eat shit EMIYA I guess.

Black Knight easily cuts through the arms because his Ebony Blade can’t do angst nuke yet but it is a super sharp magical sword.

Can it cut through adamantium? I’m sure that has been answered in some comic somewhere.

So the Beyonder just summons up a sword for himself so he can one-on-one with Black Knight.

And this puts things enough on Black Knight’s level that he starts shit-talking Beyonder. Guy may be an overpowered cosmic being but his swordmanship is shit and his sword is easily broken by the Ebony Blade. Black Knight even suggests that this fight is just a waste of time.

Beyonder: “Experience is no waste of time! And I must experience this to the fullest!”

Then he lunges forward and accidentally impales himself on the Ebony Blade.

Uh. Problem solved?

But no.

He’s not really hurt by getting impaled but he is... sheepish maybe? That he got overeager and forgot that pain hurts.

The Beyonder just kind of nopes out to go think about things.

Another time skip forward, this one a couple hours.

Black Knight and Hercules have returned to the Mansion and are reporting on what happened and how the Beyonder just left after downplaying getting stabbed.

Thankfully nobody at Project Pegasus was hurt by the massive explosion.

Not clear whether that was luck or whether the Beyonder was being very careful in his fun.

But the weirdo alien himself showing up and breaking shit convinced Project Pegasus higher-ups to fast-track the Beyonder detection system. So it should be ready by the end of the day.

Which only leaves the issue for the Avengers of what they’ll even do once they can track down the Beyonder, a question that Wasp is pondering carefully.

Hercules: “I know what I would do, if I found the Beyonder!”

The Beyonder: -appearing suddenly- “Oh? What would you do?”

WHAM

Good answer, Herc!

Hercules uppercuts the Beyonder so hard that he in fact flies through the three above floors, igniting the Quinjet fuel stored on the third floor and turning that part of the mansion into an inferno. But thankfully not an Inferno. That’s for later.

The FAA somewhere possibly getting the weirdest urge to shout YA SEE??

Thankfully, the fire safety systems throughout the rest of the mansion halt the spread but still, Hercules, c’mon, have some awareness. Don’t trash your own home.

Captain Marvel zips up to the third floor and finds the Beyonder perfectly okay.

Hercules arrives not long after, punching his way through a fire safety door, which again, c’mon Herc, that door prevents the spread of fire ya goof, ready to smite the Beyonder EVEN HARDER but Cap(tain America) tells him to chill.

Black Knight finally thinks to just ask the Beyonder what the fuck he’s up to.

Black Knight: “Beyonder, you’ve played cat-and-mouse with us for the past two days... just what is it that you want?”

Beyonder: “I want to understand you... your world... everything! You are all so fascinating yet confusing at the same time. I sought to help you in that other galaxy -- to earn and experience your gratitude. But my attempt failed because I misunderstood your goals. It was all very confusing and... discomforting. I thought that perhaps I could make amends by giving you the challenge of pursuing me. Ah... that is your form of sport, isn’t it?”

Oh my god.

So going back to where the entire first Secret Wars was basically the Beyonder banging some action figures together, well, that’s his mindset. He lacks context for most everything so he figures that banging action figures together is just what the Avengers do for fun.

He messed up them chasing Nebula around so he let them chase him around.

It’s all very...... hilarious. It’s all very hilarious. To me.

Wasp figures hey Beyonder wants to understand what the Avengers do, she’s gonna offer him a spot on the team.

Hercules is outraged but the Avengers talk themselves around to the idea.

Because, look, they can’t beat him. So why not have him join them? If the Beyonder is hanging around, they’ve got a way to keep an eye on him and maybe they can teach him responsibility.

Uh, maybe. As Captain Marvel points out the damage to the mansion is from Hercules, not the Beyonder.

Captain Marvel: “We may be superhuman, but we still make mistakes! How do we set an example for a being who for all practical purposes is omnipotent?”

Captain America: “I don’t know, Marvel. Admittedly, I can’t imagine a task more difficult than coaching the Beyonder... but I’m afraid it’s the best solution we have. After all, if the Avengers can’t do it... who can?”

Maybe the Fantastic Four.

This is superficially similar to when they had the Impossible Man living with them. But the Avengers are living at the Mansion currently too so it’d be about the same thing really.

Also, a funny little bit, Captain America points out that the Beyonder hasn’t committed any “major crimes”, just caused obscene amounts of property damage and trespassed places. I think it explains a lot about the Avengers that they don’t consider exploding a chunk out of Project Pegasus a major crime.

Anyway, while the Avengers were taking a sidebar about this idea, the Wasp has been explaining the concept of the Avengers to the Beyonder.

She doesn’t say it in as many words but its the Earth’s mightiest heroes banded together to fight threats they couldn’t handle individually spiel. With some responsibility talk thrown in.

After she finishes her explanation, she asks if the Beyonder is interested in joining.

He is interested since the Avengers are some of the most interesting of the people he’s encountered but decides that he doesn’t want to get tied down to one place when there’s still a whole fascinating world out there to experience.

But to not be a dick he uses his EXTREME POWERS to fix everything that got broke as a result of his visit. And then he teleports away.

Leaving the Avengers a bit concerned about the whole thing.

Hercules: “He is well named. His power is as far beyond that of the gods, as the gods are beyond the ant. What are we to do now?”

Captain Marvel: “I guess the only thing we can do is keep as close a tab on the Beyonder as possible... and try to keep him on the side of the angels!”

Captain America: “I hope that will be enough, C.M., because if the Beyonder’s power should become corrupted -- it could well mean the end of everything!”

Stop reading ahead in the script, Cap.

Okay, so. As an individual issue, as a single story, that wasn’t only not bad, it was enjoyable. Having the Avengers inadvertently trolled by an omnipotent being who thinks he’s being helpful is great fun.

I’m sure that there were some clunkers in the massive pile of Secret Wars II tie-ins and even if every issue were solidly okay, I bet it’d be frustrating to not be able to escape the event.

Kind of like modern events actually.

But its what I mean when I said that at its core, Secret Wars II had some solid ideas. An omnipotent being farting around Earth and slowly developing from what he learns is a solid idea. And as in this issue, a fun idea.

And I will continue to interact with Secret Wars II only as much as it concerns the main Avengers book.

Follow @essential-avengers for all your Avengers content. I think there’s a Secret Wars II podcast so if you’re curious in the rest of Secret Wars II maybe look for that. Like and reblog because I gave a helpful, vague suggestion.

#Avengers #essential avengers #essential marvel liveblogging #Secret Wars II #the Beyonder #the Wasp #Captain America #Captain Marvel #Monica Rambeau #Hercules #Black Knight #Starfox #they need a new member to replace Starfox so why not Beyonder?

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heyheydidjaknow · 4 years ago

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Why do I not have the option to copy and paste formatting? Why is that an option I am not given? Who thought that I wouldn’t need that when I’m on my phone? Screw that guy, who I am arbitrarily calling Adam. If anyone knows how to do that, please tell me.

Chapter 6 Pt 2

“There is no fucking way you got a date with her.” Raphael does not even look it up. “No way in hell.”

“And yet the flow chart worked.” He laughs from his lab, shutting off any excess equipment as to not overwork it. “It worked like a charm and she asked me to go to her place so ha.”

”You didn’t show her the chart, did you?”

“I did not.”

“Well, there you go.” Leo looks back at him from his seat on the couch. “What time?”

“Seven o’clock.” He slides the door closed. “But I’m planning on being there at six fifty-five so that she knows I value her time.”

“Does the sun set that early?”

“Why do you even ask?” Raph turns a page in his once periodical periodical. “You know he looked it up.”

“As a matter of fact, I did. Forgive me for also valuing preparedness.”

“Nobody likes a know it all.”

He grins smugly. “That’s where you’re wrong. See, I,” he gestured to himself, “have a date with a gorgeous girl tonight, one where she has already invited me into her home, and you,” he gestured to Raphael, “are reading a magazine from a company that went out of business two years ago alone.”

“Donnie, don’t be a jerk.” Leonardo looked back at the television. “Raphael brings up a valid point; you tend to act like you know everything, and the actual request wasn’t for a date.”

“How else can I interpret one on one time with her?”

“Well,” he counters, “how do you interpret one on one time with us?”

He blinks. “Wait, so you’re saying she’s… how do you put it?”

“Nah, I don’t think she’s friendzonin ‘im.” Mickey looks up from his drawing. “Think she’s sending signals she doesn’t mean to.” He sets his half-shaded piece aside. “Think about it; she said she’s been all stressed out, right? She died like two weeks ago.” He shrugs. “She’s probably just lonely and needs the company.”

“That’s… actually really insightful of you.”

He grins. “What can I say? I’m a modern McPherson.”

Raph snickers at that. “Donnie is more of a McPher—how old is that movie, anyway? A hundred?

“Hey!” He shoots a glare at his brother. “Respect the classics.”

“Not to interrupt your riveting intro to film class,” Donnie interjects, losing his shit, “but I really need to know what this is before I go, and it’s already fifteen ‘till.”

“Look, maybe she’s interested, maybe she’s not.” Leonardo’s eyes are back on the screen. “Just try to tread carefully and you’ll probably be fine.”

“Probably?”

“Again, Raph had a point.”

He groans, walking to the entrance and exit of their home. “You guys aren’t helping.”

“Not our job.”

Leo calls after him. “Be home before six!”

He turns the corner, cradling his head in his hands. ‘I am totally and thoroughly fucked.’

GoodFellas.

Of all the movies in the world, that is the movie you have decided to use to explain these concepts. This is the example piece that you are going to show to the vigilante. All you know is that you had started watching the Phantom Menace and had decided against explaining the concept of racial coding and this is the only other movie that you can think of right now. You have decided to commit, and you are already regretting it, but you decide to figure it out as you go.

You set the pizza on the coffee table, throwing a bag of popcorn in the microwave to pop. You do not expect Donatello to be late, so you decided to start now so that they could get started right away. You start walking to the window, stopping at the mouth of the hallway. You look yourself over one more time in the bathroom mirror despite yourself. You do not exactly know why you care so much; this was not a date, and you had not advertised it as one. Still, impressions are important, and the last thing you need is for him to not listen to you because of it. That is what you are telling yourself, anyhow.

You hear knocking against the glass. You check your phone for the time. ‘Five minutes early.’ You smile softly. ‘How responsible.’ You open it up, smiling at your guest. “Welcome, Donatello.” You take a step back. “Please, make yourself at home.”

He barely makes a sound as he steps off the windowsill, looking around your apartment, fully illuminated, for the first time.

After about thirty seconds of his investigation, you clear your throat. “Donnie?”

He snaps out of it. “Huh?”

You smile gently. “You wanna sit down? I bought pizza.”

“Uh, yeah.” He nods, sitting down and facing the television screen. “I like your place.”

“Thanks.” You sit down next to him, tucking your feet under you as you flip on the television. “How do you feel about gangster movies?”

“Gangster movies?”

“Yeah.” You list a couple on your fingers. “Scarface, Godfather, all that jazz.”

He shakes his head, brow furrowed in confusion. “How can you make gangster movies legally?”

“That is a long answer. The short version?” You lean forward, taking a slice from the box. “The police are kind to those who cooperate, and people think their stories are fascinating.”

“So they’re documentaries?” He mimics you.

You shrug. “Sometimes. Not always, but sometimes. You want something to drink?” You hear the microwave beep as you stand up.

“Water?”

You nod, walking over to pull the popcorn out of the microwave and grab your drinks. “I trust the walk wasn’t too bad?”

“Not at all.” The small talk is torture. “Getting to your window was a bit of a challenge, but it wasn’t anything too bad.”

“That’s good.” You pour him a glass. “I’ll have to get something for that; maybe a planter or something, so you have a bigger ledge.”

“It’s alright.” He taps his fingers against his knee. “It’s wide enough to stand.”

“Still.” You place his cup on the counter, dumping the kernels into a large plastic bowl. “I wouldn’t forgive myself if one of you guys got hurt trying to come in through the window.” You grab a can of soda out of the refrigerator, sitting down and handing him the glass.

He smiles slightly. “You’re really sweet sometimes, you know that?”

You grin. “I try,” you hum, starting to pull up the movie. “I think you’re pretty cool too, Hamato.”

He chuckles. “You make me sound like I’m fifty.”

“Oh, totally.” You nod in agreement. “You’re an old soul.”

He blinks. “Old soul?”

“Mature, I mean.” You shrug. “I mean, handling the stuff you do with any degree of tact, to me, displays a great maturity you don’t see in most teenagers, myself included.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

You get back up for napkins and plates. “Not at all.” You hand him one of each. “It’s an admirable quality, though not one I particularly envy.”

“You think?” His hands linger for a moment longer than typical as he took them.

“Yeah. You want me to turn down the lights for the movie while I’m up?”

His face goes red. “I-I mean,” he stutters, “if you want to.”

“Then I will; shows the image better when it’s dark.” You walk to the wall, flicking off the lights and sitting down next to him, setting your slice on your plate as you turn on the movie.

Your reactions to it are different.

He does not seem what you would call disturbed, but he gets grossly invested in the story extremely quickly. He is noticeably more interested in watching you watch the movie, but he studies the plot intently, noting the more domestic plotline between the lead and his wife in particular. His reaction to the violence is strange to you; he is not aloof, so to speak, but he does not flinch much until the fighting is between Henry and Karen.

You have seen this movie what feels like a thousand times. Whenever you think it applicable, you lean over and whisper to him about the directing, the script, the plot—it is supposed to be a lesson, after all. But you realize that your attention, every so often, shifts to the bed, to your pillow with the knife underneath it. The violence of the movie makes you edgier than you are used to.

About halfway through the movie, you move closer to the boy sitting beside you. You lean your head against his shoulder, closing your eyes as you listen for cues for comments. You don’t notice his reaction, but you do notice how his arm snakes around your waist, pulling you closer to him. You do not object; you were the one who initiated, after all.

“Here’s a psychology relationship thingy you can tell your family about.” You cringe at that poor little girl standing in the hallway. “’That’s all in your head’ is classic gaslighting. I dunno if that’s really your area or not.”

“Oh, yeah, I see what you mean.” He fiddles with the cloth of your jacket absentmindedly. “It’s kinda hard for me to wrap my head around, people staying like that. I mean,” he clarifies, “I get why, but—”

You both tense up as a young man on screen is shot dead by Joe Pesci’s character.

You exhale. “Yeah, I get what you mean.” You shrug. “But folks get scared, ya know? In her case, she doesn’t want to break the family apart, and she’s really into him.”

“What? No way.”

“Yes way.” You look up at him. “What can I say? We fall into infatuation so fast with bad people who say what we want to hear.”

“Don’t you mean fall in love?”

You watch as Lorraine Bracco holds a gun to her husband’s face. “Nope. Love is entirely different.”

“Yeah?” He glanced down at you.

“Apples and oranges.” You gesture to the television. “Love is supplementary, a beautifully imperfect connection between people.” Your voice becomes smoother, airier. “It’s a bond built on trust and respect. Infatuation is more of an addiction than anything.” You sigh as Liota meets to discuss his relationship with Sorvino. “At least I think so. That’s why love at first sight is a bunch of bullshit; you can’t have that kind of profound trust with someone you just met.” You shrug, looking back up at him. “Then again, what do I know? I’m an inexperienced, fifteen-year-old girl.”

“That makes a lot of sense, actually.” He looks back down at you. “I get what familial love is, but whenever Master Splinter talks about his wife, he has a hard time putting what he means into words.”

You hear their guilty verdict. “Totally get that. Articulation is not easy to do.”

A few minutes go by.

“May I be frank?”

“Please.”

You watch as a man drags his wife out of a Christmas party. “This movie is exactly why I don’t ever want to learn how to do the stuff you do. It changes you, all that violence; desensitizes you.” You bring your knees to your chest. “Especially Raphael. I swear, that shift was as dramatic as his, at least at this point in the flick.”

He pauses. “Please, tell me you’re kidding.”

You close your eyes, breathing slowly. “I’m going to try my best,” you swear, “do everything in my power, to see to it that you guys don’t experience more than you have to.”

You mean it. He can tell.

You two are quiet for the rest of the movie. You explain why certain directing choices were made, connect the beginning with the end, talk about the theme, all while you two watched their fall from grace. When the movie ends, you realize how tangled up in him you are; your head on his chest, legs draped over his with his arms around your waist. You feel the icy air against you, as if his skin attracted it to you. You push the hair out of your face. “So,” you stretch, turning the light back on, “do you wanna see another movie, or do you have a curfew?”

He pauses. “I should honestly probably get home,” he sighs. “If I’m not home early they’ll start getting ideas.”

“Oh, yeah.” You nod, completely understanding the reasoning. “You can take the leftover pizza home if you want; the guys’ll probably eat it before I do.”

“Mikey’ll be on cloud nine.” He picks the box off the coffee table. “Thanks.”

“Any time.” You stand at the window, opening it for him.

He climbs onto the windowsill, looking down at you from his perch. “I had a good time.” His face flushed. “We should do this again.”

You nod in agreement. “Definitely.” You rub the back of your neck. “I’ll pick a lighter movie next time.”

“Alright. It’s a plan.” He gives you a thumbs up.

You steal yourself, cupping one side of his face and kissing him gently on the cheek. “Goodnight, Donnie.” You smile. “See ya tomorrow.”

You are a bit concerned he’s going to fall off the windowsill. “Y-Yeah,” he grinned, words slurred. “See ya later, Y/N.” He waved, climbing up and out of your window.

You smile softly, sigh. You flop back on the bed, rolling over. You have not been this at ease since you died.

‘I really like that guy.’ You close your eyes. ‘I really, honestly do.’

You drift off to sleep, dreamless for the first time in too long.

Table Of Contents

Chapter 6 Part 1

Chapter 7

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dramagamergirl · 4 years ago

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Day 3 - Love Unholyc

Third Day

Chat 1:59 am Sweet dreams

I can't sleep I'm so tired +Hi

Sure, I like that I want to chat with you face to face... +Hi

I want to see your startle face. +Hi Something big is going to happen if I faint one more time...

Sujee deserved it. You did the right thing +Hi I think you overdid it considering she didn’t do it on purpose

Maybe she doesn't like you being with me? — Maybe she is paralyzed in love with you? What's your mom like?

Chat 08:43 am William’s heart

Yeah, I'm right here — Why did you call me twice?

That pink haired human has a name and its hi +HI did you worry about me a lot?

Were they that important? but what's done is done. What should I do —

I recharge some yesterday night so it's okay! — We should look at it under a positive light its half full. Not half empty! I don’t think I can remember all of them You're right. I don’t listen to anyone so cheer up. —

Oh right! It’s the black Sabbath okay. I'll be more careful — Hi calls

Chat 10:36 am My dear friend!

Wow, your profile picture is so pretty — lol I was kidding; you know me all too well

How did you know that?? Are you worried for my wellbeing? — it's refreshing morning if that answer the question I don’t feel so great —

They were more attractive than unholycs — I still have a long way to go

To think you would find joy in my misery — I'm glad you actually find my situation amusing I don’t have any intention of forcing them to do my bidding — Our power doesn’t work against other unholyc

You have your butler though Why don’t you hang out with humans? — Huhu, wish all u want! — I will deliver your message to William

Chat 11:24 am Cat is recovering!

Yeap, 100 percent I survived thank to Hi +Hi Yes, I did! I skipped because I felt lazy and tired —

I wanted to see you too...you should have stopped by +Leo Good job. You can't just throw your life away like that. I didn’t notice! Sad I felt much better this morning all of a sudden +Hi Hi image

That’s because you drank too much yogurt lol You have a sweet tooth too hi? +Sol Great! I pulled it off — I guess he’s not fully recovered yet. We need to take care of him until the very end. I'm happy enough to be able to talk to you guys +Sol There are so many things that I want that I can't even list them all

Sol Image

Ah! Did you want to have my slippers? .. So cute lol +Leo

Bird poop That’s ominous Don’t you think you should rater clean it that chat about it here? Hahaha —

Sol Calls

Chat 13:46 pm Big Sister!!!

Who is this? — Okay, thank you

Where did you get my number? Haha Nice to meet you too +Sol

What jeeps him so busy? — Did Sol ever have a girlfriend?

Hey Hello? +Sol Excuse me?

Chat 14:32 pm I have a question

Yes, boss! I wanted to talk as well lol —

He called me sister in law lol Don’t punish him, he was a nice person. —

lol Are you checking on my meal status again? Yes, I did — No, I didn’t

Something else? Theres nothing, we’re fine mmm, the truth is... No, never mind —

I am one who made the decision. You don’t need to. +Sol William is not as irrational as he might seem lol

Chat 16:37 pm Memory from school years

I will take that SOS! +Leo Hi Leo, I'm not busy!

Application requirement? Can Hi translate? +Hi

I think those who write negative comments online are all psychopath Why would people spend time writing such a thing? +Hi

Why won't you make a costume for hi? Hi, so smart! +Hi

That’s Sol’s privacy I bet 100 +Leo

Sol Image Leo must enjoy physical activity. — Aren't you a professional model?

Sol isn't good at drinking? +Sol Oh. The story sounds pretty interesting!

The story doesn't match with how Leo looks I want to see Leo get tired +Sol

I like how manly Sol is That’s right. I like how soft and warmhearted Sol is —

Lol Sol... you are really upset Treating elderly well. That's amazing —

Chat 18:58 pm Strange vacation

Do you think he told her about my story? 30 pairs of slippers? +Hi

Didn’t you say the sign was no longer there? Maybe she’s talking off a little longer? —

You guys must be close to her She’s going to be fine +Hi

Maybe it was someone looked like her? +Leo Maybe she just wanted to take a rest

Sol is so reliable and competent I really wish she’s okay +Sol

I like sweet things too! +Leo How can Sol handle so much sugar?

Chat 19:43 pm Man From underworld

Sujee, you must visit Ripeato pretty often? Are you close to her too, Sujee? —

Don’t you think saying that can hurt Sol’s felling even more? +Sol Why don’t you use different way to describe him?

Sujee, you are being rude — are you talking bad about Sol’s friends?

Sol has enemies?! They want the Ripeato’s street? How bold! —

Sol, does this put you in danger? — Sol. Don’t you have intention to solve the issue by force?

Everything is centered on Hi for you, Sujee — Do you know these people, sol?

It Feels like we are mingling into something dangerous — Can't we just report the case to the police?

Leo you must have been busy? Leo, I am still here! +Leo

Sol is as normal as we are Sol must be aware how concerned you are, Leo —

How did you get close to her, Leo? +Leo How did Sol get close to her, Leo? +Sol How did Hi get close to her, Leo? +Hi

I am too, I've got so much to do I'm fine, pretty free +Leo

Chat 20:21 pm Don't tell others

Urgent matter? What is it? — Are you okay??

I won't until you come. Don’t push yourself too much, you don’t have to come if it's difficult —

Chat 21:24 pm Advance from human female friend

I'm just doing my work I just talked to sol —

Sol is not a gangster — No. I didn’t

I think you are You are worried about me? —

You... Heard? That means those may not be true — He had lived such a though like?

Sol said he trust Ripeato employees — all the employees at Ripeato used to be gangsters?

Yes, I understand. Thank you — well a lot still doesn't make sense to me I only speak about Hi that I know — Something makes me think I know more about Hi than you do

Chat 21:45 pm Sol’s last words

Don’t worry, sol will take care of everything! We haven't heard from Hi either, right? —

Hi, lets calm down a bit. I'm sure that what Sol wants Don’t be sorry. You must have been so busy... We have startled you +Hi

Nothing much He sounds there is some issues + Leo

Does sol get involved in fights often? Sol is super strong, so he's going to be okay, right? —

Leo, you really do understand Sol too well +Leo What message did Sol leave you with?

Why do you have to be there early the morning? Im so glad you are coming early —

Okay, I will stay strong +Sol I can't calm myself down from worrying

Story21:53 pm Emergency Close down, Ripeato

No options

Story22:34 pm Waiting

Sol! Are you okay? I was waiting for you +Sol

Should support him standing — Should Tell Sol he’s swatting a little but I worried about you too — We can't even worry a person who is taking care of himself?

How come you sound surprise by that? — Mm, I think?

That’s right, I am upset +Sol Nope, why would I feel unpleasant

Stop, get a hold of yourself! Let's finish this up first, okay? +Sol

Sol, can you do it with less power... It hurts if you do it like that, so let's loosen it up a bit. Be good, okay? +Sol

Sol is there any issue that you are afraid to share with is? Sol it may be just a feeling. But it seems you become a lot more talkative when I'm around —

#love unholyc #loveunholyc #unholyc

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thrillingdetectivetales · 3 years ago

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Author Interview

I was tagged by the lovely @ianandmickeygallavich1

(Throwing a read more in here because this bitch got LONG!)

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

I have 136 works across 45 fandoms, just to give you an idea of what a shameless fandom hopping multishipper I actually am.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

My total WC is 676,938.

3. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

By a Thread, By a String, By a Rope The Magnificent Seven (2016), WIP, Kudos: 987

Matinee Suits, 5125 words, Kudos: 947

Careful Application of External Pressure Grimm, WIP, Kudos: 876

This Night Ain’t for the Holy Man The Magnificent Seven (2016), 5578 words, Kudos: 875

Catch It Like a Butterfly Leverage, 1497 words, Kudos: 658

4. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I try really hard to respond to every comment, but sometimes they pile up and the anxiety of seeing the number gets to me and I just mark them all read and start over with a clean slate. So, apologies if I skipped you. I promise it was nothing personal, just me trying to practice some fumbling self-care.

5. What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

Probably Curtain Call, which is a Roy Harper-centric DCU fic exploring his feelings in the aftermath of the 2015 Red Hood/Arsenal run.

6. What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

Pretty much all my fic have happy endings, so I’m not sure which one is the happiest. I feel like that’s a subjective question, haha.

7. Do you write crossovers? If so, what is the craziest one you’ve written?

I do write crossovers! I love crossovers and crack fic premises and wild “okay but just go with me here” scenarios, haha. They’re the most fun to figure out, imo. The craziest one I’ve ever written is probably the Shameless-meets-Ducktales crossover I did for Tumblr Jukebox a little while back, though the one I picked up as a pinch hit for the Crossworks Fandom Exchange just last month, crossing over Brooklyn Nine-Nine with Dragon Age: Inquisition is definitely a contender for that spot.

8. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

I received a couple of snide comments on a Matt/Foggy Daredevil fic I did under a different name back when I was in college, but that’s about it.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I do! I don’t think I’m particularly bad at it, though I do find it very difficult. I’m not sure what the “what kind” question is asking, exactly, but I actually do a smut writing challenge called Monday, Slutty Monday that includes a list of kinks I’m willing to write. You can give it a gander here, if you’re curious.

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

No, though I have had someone ask if they could use the concept of the lover’s noose from By a Thread, By a String, By a Rope for their original works. I said no, largely because it’s a concept I intend to use in my own original works, though I welcome transformative, not-for-profit works to remix or reimagine or play in any of my sandboxes.

11. Have you ever had a fic translated?

I have! I was lucky enough to have Doomed to Play, a Magnificent Seven werewolf/vampire AU, translated into Russian several years back!

12. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I have not! I am extremely interested, though, as I’m a huge fan of old-school, forum-style roleplaying and I really, really love collaborating on projects, so if you’re interested, please feel free to reach out to me and ask! I can’t promise anything, because I’m lucky enough to live a very full and busy life, but who knows!

13. What’s your all-time favorite ship?

I am not really sure that I have an all-time favorite ship. I have a few oldies but goodies that I revisit pretty regularly, including Harry/Draco, which was baby’s first ship, and Fraser/Kowalski of Due South fame, but I don’t think I’ve ever had a true OTP.

14. What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

God, so many of them, haha. I’m terrible about finishing WIPs because I have a very short attention span, but I’m not fully willing to write any of them off because I do periodically poke at the GDocs for a lot of them, even if they haven’t been updated in years. The only one I truly don’t foresee finishing is So Let Us Not Be Lonesome, which is a Magnificent Seven ghost/medium AU, and the only reason I don’t foresee finishing it is because I hope to one day revisit it as an original work.

15. What are your writing strengths?

I’m pretty routinely cheered in comments for writing true-to-character dialogue, really lush sensory descriptions, and tempting food descriptions, so I’ll go with those.

16. What are your writing weaknesses?

I tend to overwrite and I really fucking love adverbs, haha. I was a big reader of doorstopper fantasy in my youth, which tend to be really, really purple in their prose, so I lean in that direction. I have a lot of betas whose opinions I trust tell me I go too purple quite often, but I love my descriptive language so I’m not sure it’s a weakness I’ll ever overcome. Let’s call it a stylistic choice, for now, haha.

17. What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I do it all the time, and I really enjoy it in other folks’ fic, so long as the dialogue is something that a non-speaker can still understand from context. I think I probably wasn’t great with that when I first started writing Spanish-speaking characters into my fic, but I like to think I’ve gotten a better handle on it since then.

18. What was the first fandom you wrote for?

I think it was honestly Ronin Warriors, an anime that used be on Cartoon Network’s Toonami block way back in the day. I had a lengthy and involved Mary Sue self-insert fic that got be like, a few hundred pages long, though it never saw the light of day.

19. What’s a fandom/ship you haven’t written for yet but want to?

The two currently at the top of my list are Ted Lasso and 9-1-1, though I can hardly watch a piece of media these days without seeing something in it I want to explore that the creators didn’t have the time or inclination to explore, or that didn’t fit their narrative.

20. What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

Oh, this is so hard! I honestly don’t know. I don’t tend to go back and re-read my own fic too terribly often, so I’m really not sure, but I will say that one of the ones I think is underrated is The Lady and the Knife, which is a Luther/BBC Sherlock fic that came about because I got tired of Sherlock stans claiming his behavior should be forgiven because he was a high-functioning sociopath and thought it would be fun to see what happened if he ever crossed paths with someone who was actually a high-functioning sociopath and not just a dick. (Don’t get me wrong, I really enjoyed the early BBC Sherlock and some of the fic is chefkissingfingers.gif, I just really hate it when people require their characters to be morally upright at all times. Let them be villains! Let them be dicks! Don’t apologize for finding that interesting!)

I am tagging @thesummoningdark, @blahblahblahclintnickiscanon, @townhulls, @ksansart @rubinecorvus @persipneiwrites @irolltwenties and anyone else who feels like participating! I have a lot of mutuals who write fic and I’m really bad at remembering everyone’s various handles, so please, if you want to participate but I didn’t tag you, go ahead and do it and @ my ass anyway!

Luh ya bbs.

#tec does a meme #tec writes

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delusion-of-negation · 3 years ago

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top 10 (ish) ridiculous or annoying FAQs:

(click at your own discretion)

1) "kids today rely on others to do everything"

ah yes, damn those participation trophies! if it wasn't for them my hands wouldn't be fucked, and I wouldn't need people to write for me. but seriously, stop reading boomer comics, and go outside to meet some actual young people.

2) "sus that a non-american says mom"

yeah, because it's clearly the superior version, and I'm not too patriotic to concede a defeat.

3) "sweaty, the victims of abuse by catholics are real people, stop appropriating their pain just because you want to hate catholics; plus teachers abuse people just as often anyway"

so firstly, I don't hate anybody. and secondly, regarding the fact that victims really do exist, [insert "of course I know him, he's me" meme here]; although I don't often talk much about the abuse I went through or what my religious beliefs are. but, more importantly, statements like "survivors are people" can be phrased like "some people are survivors", and when you're unable to act according to the latter (like when you don't even consider that somebody might be one) then you display a failure to recognise the former - you're projecting; a survivor can't be appropriating their own pain, but you can be appropriating it to silence one. and thirdly, teachers do abuse - the problem isn't and has never been purely religion, rather that abuse is often done by somebody in a position of trust, power, and familiarity; and that the lack of a global minimum enables totally legal abuse on top of the illegal stuff. people with access and respect have more opportunity to abuse than those without, and that goes for teachers too. but, once again, you can be appropriating the pain of survivors to deflect and silence people. please remember this before you say that shit.

4) "get help/therapy"

way ahead of you - years ahead of you. but it's not magic - people who say this often act as if you'll start behaving differently overnight. not only are some things simply beyond the ability of talking therapy to completely rectify, it also takes time and has to be selective. you've got to pick your priorities, and that's definitely not whatever ship or joke you're mad at me about today. therapy is a slow, arduous process that can't guarantee results - it isn't "anti-recovery" to recognise that, it's honesty. while I've been in therapy for a long time, it is not necessarily going to change whatever you don't like about me - whether that's because it can't, because my focus now is on more important or urgent things, or because I don't want to change that.

5a) "tell your family you ship incest, see how that goes; normal people find it disgusting"

actually, some know, and they're fine with it. in fact, one prefers sibling pairings in fiction to all other dynamics because, to paraphrase, "it's a deeper level of messed up co-dependence". so unfortunately for you, my remaining family (by which I mean those not dead or cut out of my life after abuse and so forth) actually are able to distinguish between fiction and reality. plus, my reasoning for caring if they find it gross or not pertains only to recommending books and such - their opinions do not dictate my tastes.

5b) "don't sexualise/appropriate incestuous abuse" and "I bet you enjoyed being raped" and other attempts to upset me over 5a

firstly, as I've already said here, survivors can't be appropriating ourselves. in addition, you're not owed people's history or trauma - it's not okay to require people's personal information, or else you'll send anon hate and accusations of appropriation. secondly, I'm not sexualising our abuse (not just because I write horror, and so a lot of my writing is intended to be creepy, not sexy); these stories aren't about us, they're not us at all. entire dynamics/people (fictional or otherwise) aren't all going to be applicable to us or identical to us, just because they have something in common with us; they're not us and they're not accountable to us. thirdly, the fact that people send this stuff (attempting to trigger people's trauma over ships) is so much more worrying to me than somebody making our communal imaginary friends kiss. you're trying to hurt people. and finally, to the "I bet you enjoyed it" crowd (if you're at all serious): do you think you'd enjoy being in a real zombie apocalypse, alone, afraid, and really at risk of being eaten alive? a fictional scenario does not feel remotely the same as a real one. this isn't rocket science - things that look like you aren't you; fiction isn't reality; don't send anon hate. (edit: comparable "just leave me alone, I'm not hurting anyone" sentiments for yandere stuff, and anything else you decide I'm naughty for.)

6) "you'll be sent off to do manual labour once your communist revolution happens"

while I don't know why people think that I'm a communist, a dictatorial regime probably isn't going to want me to do manual labour. they're more likely to just shoot me; I'm useless and a liability. call me crazy, but something tells me that "ah yes, we shall give ze deranged cripple ze power tools" isn't the communist position.

7a) "they/them can't be singular pronouns"

yes they can, and they're used as such in both shakespeare and the bible. but you don't have to say this - I'm also okay with he/him, so you could've just used those and chilled out. also, do I look like somebody who views the rules of grammar as fully immutable and imperative?

7b) "enbies/aros/pan/etc aren't valid"

do you really think that you're going to change any hearts or minds by putting that in my ask box or under my funny maymays? chill out, it's not worth the effort - you could be planning a party (in minecraft) and having fun instead. it isn't worth my time to rant at everybody who's saying something isn't valid, updating how I'm explaining it as my opinions grow and general discourse around it evolves; I'm just who I am, somebody else is who they are - why bicker in presumptuous ways about if that's enough? it ultimately is valid, in my opinion, but that isn't an invitation to keep demanding that I debate. (edit: old posts of mine probably don't phrase things incredibly, on this or anything... I tried.)

8) "what are your politics?"

my politics are informed first and foremost by the knowledge that I'm not cut out to be some kind of leader - I don't want to be the guy who tells everyone else what to do, I just offer what seem to me like valid criticisms of how we are doing things now, and general pointers on the values and ethics that I would prefer to move towards. things like individual freedom, taking the most pacifist route where possible, trying not to give excessive power to small groups of people (governments or corporations), helping those in need even when they're not palatable, and letting me suck loads of dicks. but please refrain from decreeing me something - there's not enough information in what I said, so you'll just be filling in the blanks with assumptions. (edit: workplace democracy seems cool to me; benefits are good; fair fines and taxes; and the "sperm makes you loopy" saga: 1, 2, 3, and 4.)

9) "you're a narcissist"

no, I don't meet the diagnostic criteria. joking on the internet that you're hot doesn't make a person a narcissist. the fact that I've chosen to keep my actual self-esteem issues to myself is not proof that they don't exist - you're just not entitled to that information about me. but it's also not narcissism to really like how you look. (edit: don't throw labels around carelessly too.)

10a) "kin list?"

the fabric of the universe, a zombie, dionysus, maned wolf/arctic fox hybrid, a comedian, big gay, big rock, ambiguously partial insincerity. (edit: kin list may or may not be incomplete.)

10b) "kin isn't valid/that's just being insane"

haven't we established that I'm deranged, and that sending stuff like this on anon is simply a waste of your precious time? besides, I do not care if it's invalid or insane - it's fun, I'm happy. (edit: see 7b for my opinion on sending me yet another ask with "that's invalid" in it; I'm not in the mood to discuss the nature of validity.)

bonus: "it gets better" and "trigger list?"

as I've said before, things just don't always get better for everyone - sometimes things can't be cured or even treated, sometimes they kill you; in some cases it could get better if not for a blockade or lack of time. the world is messy. it needs to be more normalised to reassure or comfort people without relying on saying that their issue will get better or be cured. it does suck to be this ill, but it also sucks to be made out to be a lazy pessimist, just because I have the audacity to not play along. and as for the trigger list, I don't like providing people with an easily accessed list of ways to hurt my feelings or harm me - upsetting me is supposed to be challenging, and thus rewarding. if you want a cheat sheet then you're out of luck, I'm afraid.

bonus #2: "FAQ stands for frequently asked questions, it doesn't need that s at the end!"

yeah, I know, I just enjoy chaos and disarray.

bonus #3 (edit): "what are your disabilities and how exactly are they incurable and/or deadly?"

again, I don't tell the internet everything about me, especially when it poses a risk, especially not as an easily accessible list for you to refer back to whenever you feel inclined to hurt my feelings. that is understandably a sore subject. (edit: that includes physical health issues btw.)

bonus #4 (edit): "so we shouldn't be critical?"

if it wasn't clear from my answer about politics or my post in general, you can have opinions about things, and you can voice that. it's just not realistic to exist at extremes: to think that you alone should dictate what exists in fiction, or to think that people shouldn't be expressing disdain or criticism of any calibur. say how you feel about things, that's fine, but it's also fine if people find that they don't value your input. plus we're all flawed, we can all be hypocritical from time to time, we all get bitchy, and we all make mistakes, or even knowingly fuck things up. that's important to keep in mind, whether we're talking about the one being criticised or the one doing the criticising - poor choices of words, imperfect tone, or contradictory ideas are inevitably going to happen occasionally.

congrats on reaching the end! if you have, at any point, said one of these to me, you owe a hug to your nearest loved one (once it's safe).

edit: might add more links/bonus points in the future when I think of things, but it's late now. (sorry for links where prior notes in the thread have my old url, that may get a tad confusing; also, not all links are my blog or my op, since it is to illustrate points/vibes, not to self-promo.)

#don't take life too seriously #nobody gets out alive anyway #tw abuse mention #tw csa mention #tw incest mention #tw for any tws I missed #idk why I did this

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locke-writes · 4 years ago

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Save The Date

Author: locke-writes

Title: Save The Date

Summary: Fake Dating Trope, Mutual Pining Trope x Matt Murdock For: @thranduilsperkybutt 11k writing challenge

Rating: T

Word Count: 1,857

In retrospect you knew you knew you shouldn't have been impulsive, you shouldn't have answered to the RVSP out of spite. The phrase hindsight is 20-20 was now more applicable to your life than it had ever been. Who sends out wedding reminders anyway? That's what the Save the Date was for in the first place and without the reminder you could have claimed that you'd forgotten. Although you hadn't forgotten and the reminder that came in the middle of replying to work emails was a slap in the face.

It was your fault for wanting to get back at your ex in the first place. You could have been a rational human being and replied that you couldn't attend but no, you had to reply that you'd be in attendance and not just that, you'd be bringing a plus one. Had you even been dating anyone at the time? No. Had you dated anyone since that you could have brought to the wedding? No. Act first and think it over later, that was apparently your philosophy.

You'd put yourself into a predicament of which there was no backing out. You had to save face and you had to do that anyway you could. Only one option seemed to come to mind although you kept trying to come with any other way to get out of the obligation of attending. A plus one was hard to come by with the wedding only two weeks away. Matt would be your only option, if he agreed. You hoped that he would.

Asking Matt was going to be more difficult that anyone could think. Not because you had to up and tell him the full embarrassing story of why you decided that it was a good idea to accept but because for the longest time you had been in love with the man. Having met in college it wasn't that hard to have fallen for him over time, what was hard was getting rid of the feelings you held and convincing yourself that he would never feel the same way. You were grateful that he had taught you how to keep your heartbeat steady or he would have guessed by now that you harbored feelings for him. Or if he was as thickheaded as he could be sometimes, he might think you had feelings for Foggy.

But yes, you loved him, and because you loved him you knew it wasn't going to be that difficult to pretend to date him.

When you walked into this office the next day Matt could sense your nervousness. Knowing how you felt when he broached something he gleamed based on your biometrics he left the matter alone waiting for you to broach the subject when you were ready. It had taken half the day for you to calm down enough to go over the words in your head. Even then when you explained to Matt just what you were asking, he still had to backtrack and repeat to make certain that he was grasping everything.

"Let me get this straight. You want me to pose as your boyfriend next weekend because you decided it was a good idea to accept an exes wedding invite?"

"I know. I know, I'm an idiot but yes. Listen Matt you're the only person I trust enough to ask this of, it's ridiculous and I should have been the bigger person in the first place and I wasn't."

"Well, I don't have plans for next weekend and it does come with free food…I suppose I could pretend for just one weekend"

You hugged Matt, pulling away before thanking him and promising to send him a fake backstory of how you two got together figuring it would help if someone eventually asked. On your way out for the day you avoided Karen who, other than Foggy, was the only person who knew that you were in love with Matt. Knowing what she would say about the idea you needed to avoid her, you didn't need to be reminded of how foolish this idea was. Foggy ended up staying back with Matt to work on a case while Matt went over the fake backstory.

It was detailed, that's for sure. Everything was there, who asked who out, how long you had been together, had you been living together and for how long. Matt knew that it was fiction, a mere farce that he'd have to live for one singular Saturday but looking at the details Matt found himself thinking that he didn't want them to be lies, he wanted every single word to be the truth.

On more than one occasion Foggy had convinced him that you shared his feelings, that Matt would not have to deal with unrequited love. While part of him hoped that were true and hoped that he could take that leap of faith with you, another part of him knew that it was futile. He couldn't, and wouldn't, put you in the danger that could come from being with him and besides that there was no way you actually harbored any similar feelings for him. The wedding would be a chance to live out a fantasy and Matt would accept that as the closest he would ever get.

In the days before the wedding you and Matt had run through your backstory time and again. Both Foggy and Karen had offered to help, not only quizzing you on the finer details but asking questions as though they two were guests which allowed you and Matt to fully mesh as a pretend couple. Neither of you knew it was far easier to pretend than it should have been.

The day of the wedding was not what you anticipated it to be. In the future you would look on it in a far different light but as you were not in the future yet you simply viewed it through the lens of an actor. Matt was a great scene partner, impressing those at your table with stories of legal cases while making them swoon with stories of your college days which were real. Although you assumed he had added in the detail of one of those moments being when he realized he loved you for the first time for the only benefit of furthering the lie you were wrapped up in.

Even your ex seemed to think that it was about time you and Matt had gotten together. While you had assumed he might be surprised that you had brought a date you had also assumed that he wouldn't have supposed the date to be Matt. The idea that your love for Matt was evident to everyone began to make you second guess the plan. This was a way to prove to your ex that you had moved on rather than that you truly were in love with the person he assumed you'd end up with one day.

As Matt asked you to dance you began to wonder what would happen if you told the truth to him. What harm could come from being at a wedding where you knew everything between you and Matt was pretend? What harm could come from confessing the truth if Karen and Foggy both insisted that you should? They both couldn't have been wrong and perhaps maybe this was your chance. Instead all you could focus on was the fact that Matt's tie was crooked.

Matt quirked an eyebrow as you let go of his hands.

"You're tie is crooked, I'm just fixing it"

You paused as his hand came to rest over yours, "I love you"

It was simple but it was the truth. Matt loved you and he was tired of keeping quiet. He was tired of not saying anything, tired of not being able to hold your or take you in his arms and kiss you. This was the way he could tell you but not be held responsible for the outcome, it was a wedding, it was fake and perhaps you would assume that everything he was saying was false.

Which you did. You were stunned by the confession however you knew what you had asked of him. He was pretending to be your boyfriend and pretending to be in love with you. A performance, that's what you had to keep thinking of it as, just a performance. The two of you danced for a few more songs before leaving the reception. Silence surrounded you on the way home broken only by the soft thank you that you offered Matt after you dropped him off at his apartment.

Lying in bed that night you let your mind run over the events of the day knowing that you would not be able to face Matt on Monday, or any day that week. Being with him was too difficult, you couldn't pretend, didn't want to pretend anymore and you couldn't go back to work knowing that everything was changed for you but would be the same for Matt.

Avoidance wasn't the best but it was what needed to occur. You called Foggy the next morning and told him you were taking the week off. He passed the message onto Matt that Monday causing him to have his own reflection on what he had said and done. By Friday Matt had made up his mind. The truth of everything would come out, whether you wanted to hear it or not.

Matt's call at your door could not be avoided and while you wished to keep the door shut, you let him in anyway. You toed around the point, waiting for him to bring up whatever it was he was there for and you assumed that he was there to make sure you knew that nothing was between you. Wanting to let him know there was no hard feelings there was a pause between you spoke and when Matt spoke, a brief overlap before you snapped your mouth shut. The confession was being echoed and this time you were listening with full attention.

"I love you. I'm in love with you. No lies, no acting, no nothing. I’m sick of pretending I don’t care, sick of pretending that it doesn’t hurt to see you with other people. I love you, for real, not for fake. Those stories, that story about loving you, about knowing it and feeling it…about being connected. I need you to know I meant every word."

"Matt" you spoke but were interrupted.

"No, it's fine. I just needed to tell you that. I needed you to know because I can't keep hiding it from you."

"Matthew Murdock would you just shut up for one-second so I can tell you that I'm in love with you to?"

You let the words sink in and quickly Matt kissed you before you could say anything else.

He loved you. You loved him. The two of you were fools not to see it but now, it was going to be evident. There was never going to be going back, Matt was your future. You knew that for a fact.

#locke writes #daredevil #matt murdock #daredevil imagine #matt murdock imagine #daredevil fanfic #matt murdock fanfic #daredevil oneshot #matt murdock oneshot #daredevil fic #matt murdock fic

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lizacstuff · 4 years ago

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Anon asks: SCK Fragman 38 speculation

(Asks under the cut)

Anonymous said: Do you think they're getting married this next episode? idk if the tattoos were confirmation

I think it’s possible? But I also think it’s entirely possible that they get the tattoos as a symbol of their love and a promise of sorts that they are through messing around, but they’re not actually married yet. Frankly, they already gave us all the wedding hoopla with these two, I’m absolutely fine with an elopement or quick courthouse style wedding, or just a couple of witnesses in a garden. Whatever they want! Let’s just get her done.

Also... I know I said it before, but I’m just in love with the idea of these tattoos. Such a great solution to their ring issue.

Anonymous said: Thoughts on all these twitter theories from the “sick” line in the fragman?

- it’s about piril and engins kid bc basak and anil filmed in the hospital, and piril was hit by a car in 36 and in 37 she had that moment where she clutched her abdomen and had to sit down

- it’s a flashback serkan has to when his brother alp was sick

- serkan is sick and it’s a way to reveal Kemal as his bio dad (blood or organ donation)

- serkan is sick and it’s a way to reveal eda is pregnant when they draw blood from her to donate

That fragman could be hinting at so many things, and it very well could have been misleading. So lets take each theory in turn.

“it’s about piril and engins kid bc basak and anil filmed in the hospital, and piril was hit by a car in 36 and in 37 she had that moment where she clutched her abdomen and had to sit down”

Very possible. Engin thinking something had happened to Piril two eps ago did feel like foreshadowing, almost preparing the audience for something. It would be so heartbreaking if she loses the baby, and seems too dark for this show, but it is something that happens to millions of women, so we’ll see.

Also can you imagine after the way Piril stuck by Selin, if Piril lost her baby, and she then witnesses Selin using her baby as a pawn to get revenge on Serkan and Eda? I’d like to see Piril and Engin’s reaction to that. Though again I think that’s pretty dark, especially for the side couple.

- it’s a flashback serkan has to when his brother alp was sick

I think this is a very good guess. Serkan probably will see a doctor after he passed out, and if it is another panic attack brought on by the stress of losing Eda, I could see a doctor telling him if he wants to move past the panic attacks, he needs to get at the root of his abandonment issues, which all lead back to his brother’s death. That could be why he’s getting out a box of his things and reading that letter. So I could very well see a flashback happening to Alp’s diagnosis.

- serkan is sick and it’s a way to reveal Kemal as his bio dad (blood or organ donation)

I’m honestly fully onboard with Kemal as Serkan’s bio dad. I hear a lot of people poopooing the idea because of opportunity, but I think they told us when it could have happened. In their first meeting, (unless my subs were bad) Aydan mentioned that Kemal had returned once to apologize for standing her up when they were young and going to run away together. I assume that was the window. Kemal showed up years later (after Alp was born) to apologize.. they had a fling and there’s the opportunity for Serkan to be his son.

Though, to me, if they’re doing something with Serkan’s health it’s got to be related to the plane crash. The chest clutching since he’s been back is concerning, plus wasn’t his hand shaking at one point? So I don’t see him having some serious underlying issue that’s unrelated. This guy does not shy away from going to the doctor and was just in the hospital for probably over a month recovering, so you’d think if there was anything wrong before, we’d know it. Unless the plane crash acerbated something that’s genetic? And/or requires a match like bone marrow or kidney. I suppose they could give Serkan some rare blood type and that would be something applicable to most any ailment. We shall see.

- serkan is sick and it’s a way to reveal eda is pregnant when they draw blood from her to donate

This one I think is the least likely. It’s been very fuzzy how much time has passed, but at the minimum 3 months since they were supposed to get married and were having sex, so if Eda were pregnant I think she would have noticed the signs by now.

Anonymous said: Liza, I know they won’t kill Serkan, but could you reassure me that they won’t? I’ve followed you since Once and you were always good at reassuring.

Ha! I remember making lists of all the reasons they would never kill Hook.

THEY WON’T KILL SERKAN.

And I’m even more certain of this than I ever was of them not killing Hook, and I was damn certain then.

There is literally not ONE reason for this show to exist without Eda and Serkan. Not one. This is their love story, and really, storyline wise, the show should have ended awhile ago, and the only reason they keep it going is to keep Hande and Kerem on screen together, making their magic. Seriously, that’s the only reason.

You see how Serkan dying would be counter to that, right? And if the show were about to end, trust me, there is nothing in it for anyone to have a tragic ending. This started as a romantic comedy, and will end as one, with a happily ever after. And if you’re still nervous, trust this, the production company is still hopeful to sell it into even more foreign markets, especially English language ones, a surprise tragic, twist ending that gets vilified on social media (and trust me this fandom is huge, vocal and capable) would really hurt those chances.

So even if we’re headed into a bad diagnosis for Serkan, he will be fine in the end, it will just be something for him and Eda to fight through. I promise.

Anonymous said: thoughts on that wonderfully beautiful fragman? i was watching with hearts in my eyes and then read the translations.. poor serkan!! if it really isn't misleading i definitely think it's some consequence of the plane crash. but, we are secure in what kind of show this is and the full knowledge that it's not a drama and no one is gonna actually die, i'm excited for the potential this storyline is gonna give us!! (esp with the return of the old writers)

I can’t wait to see that rain scene, and the after-the-rain scene and their motorcycle ride. The fragman was very beautiful, but it also felt very poignant and a little melancholy.

It’s interesting with the announcement that the second writing team was back, there were tidbits from several legit entertainment-type reporters yesterday that the show was going back to it’s roots being funny and entertaining. So a terrible diagnosis for one of the current characters, especially the romantic leading man, doesn’t really fit with that.

It the writers hadn’t changed I’d be more concerned, not about a character dying, just about the show leaning into some big sort of health-related melodrama. But I think whatever might be happening will be in service to the plot. As far as Serkan having a health-scare related to the crash, as I said above it’s very plausible. I mean what are the chances that a man survives a plane crash, is fished out of the sea, spends weeks in a hospital, gets amnesia and is perfectly fine 3-4 months later with no other repercussion? Doesn’t seem possible!

Anonymous said: Liza, the second set of writers is really coming back! We might actually get comeuppance for Selin!

YESS!!!!! Please. I had completely lost hope with the last set of writers who seemed hellbent on normalizing her behavior. Look I’d be fine with a 3 minute conversation where Serkan tells her that he knows she’s a manipulative liar and the baby is not his, that he wants her out of their lives for good, and that if she ever comes near Eda ever again he will personally destroy her.

Is that so much to ask?

Though I’d like her to be humiliated in front of the rest of the team. Just so everyone knows what kind of psycho she is and no one in Edser’s orbit is tempted to give her another chance ever again.

It will be interesting to see how this plays out. With the news that Sarp Can (Deniz) is COVID positive, he obviously won’t be back on set anytime soon. They could probably get some VO from him if necessary, for a phone convo, but I’m gonna guess he’s done on screen.

It’s time to write both characters out!

As for the 22-23, 25-30 writers coming back, that is the best news I’ve had in ages. They weren’t perfect, but the things they did well, they did really, really well. Their comedy, romantic scenes, heartfelt dialogue, accurate characterizations and penchant for sizzling scenes that “break the Turkish family structure” will all be most welcome. I’m really excited for the first time in ages.

Anonymous said: Very interesting that the fragman did not address the Selin baby drama at all. It focused solely on Edser which was a welcome change while at the same time has me a bit nervous for the angst & drama no doubt headed our way. But if Eda & Serkan are together for good now to face the challenges coming then I cannot wait to watch. The last episode was so well done but Eda & Serkan were both near their breaking points for different reasons & you just felt awful for both of them. Really glad that the engagement did not happen and the show focused on the fallout from Serkan’s amnesia. And even had the side characters addressing how difficult things have been for Eda and that she might need some time before picking things back up with Serkan! Looking forward to the resolution of the baby story/exit of Selin and seeing Eda & Serkan heal together.

I hope that the fact that nothing Selin-related was addressed in the fragman means that we finally have people in charge who understand that we are so damned fatigued of Selin that featuring her an active deterrent for viewers. Also I haven’t seen any evidence that Bige has been on set for 38. That doesn’t mean she hasn’t, it’s still possible, but it is encouraging that the ep will be light on Selin.

As far as the drama and angst, I think there’s more headed our way, however I’m hopeful it will be the good kind and not the kind that made us really uncomfortable and want to tear our hair out during the Selin/Deniz era. We know that Eda and Serkan must decide to stay together (spending time together, ring finger tattoos) so the point of the pregnancy storyline is done. When Eda found out Selin was pregnant, it gave Selin the chance for one last Hail Mary pass, and she took it, trying to break them up, but it failed. So it’s usefulness is over. She can’t keep the charade going because of Deniz, and because once Serkan has time to calm down and think, he’ll realize that any time in Slovania where he was so injured that it’s possible he doesn’t remember, he also would have been too physically incapacitated to do anything of the sort.

As for Eda needing some time, yes, things in 36 were just too easy for Serkan in terms of the fallout from his amnesic behavior. Episode 37 made him work for it and I think come to terms with the fact that, Selin manipulations or no, there’s work to do and things he needs to atone for. Putting her first throughout the episode, and showering her with love, was a good start.

Anonymous said: The conversations Selin had with Eda, Serkan and Aydan in this episode had my blood boiling. Someone stop this psycho! The unnecessary hole digging was real, my god. I don't care if she's pregnant, don't hold Eda back this time and let her fight this snake. Let everyone fight her! If she's lying to Deniz now, he can fight her too.

I know, she reached new levels of abusive manipulation. They better be planning a comeuppance, if she’s just allowed to leave with people waving goodbye, I will scream. The Aydan conversation with her posing the question about abortion was something else. It came across to me more as a threat. Like... I’m thinking about doing this, if you don’t want my decision to be your fault, you better stay on the right side of me.

The Eda and Serkan stuff goes without saying. It still floors me that she’s willing to pretend like she raped him (if he can’t remember because he was that injured and foggy, then it’s impossible for him to have given consent.) rather than just giving up and living the truth.

Anonymous said: Like I get it (kind of) but I am so sick of watching Serkan be nice to Selin. Very much looking forward to Serkan chewing her out for how much she hurt Eda with this fake Serkan baby daddy story when she is exposed. I get that Serkan feels he is to blame for calling her to Slovenia in the first place & essentially in his mind giving her hope of them being together but he needs to stop excusing her horrible behavior from there. No decent person would take advantage of that situation the way she did. It seems like the only way that Selin will have an epic fall is if Deniz decides to fight for the kid he knows must be his and tell Eda everything. Going to be tough for her to believe initially but it will have to start making sense once she thinks back on things and then if the photos surface then she will know it must be true.

Agreed. I get Serkan’s guilt, and it actually shows what a good person he is, but he needs to get over it. Because seriously, all Selin was obligated to do when she got his call was to hang up, and then dial one of the following: his mother, his father, his fiancé or best friend/business partner Engin. That’s it. Call them and say, hey, Serkan’s alive, this is where you’ll find him. But NOPE! Instead she decided to fly there, manipulate him, keep him hidden and try to use it to get back with him. She made him beholden to her, just another in the long line of brainwashing and manipulation. Her flying to his bedside was the wrong thing to do, and it would be great if someone beside Eda recognized that.

Anonymous said: Even though Selin is the worst and I just cannot wait for her to finally be unmasked as the manipulator she is, I am really looking forward to Edser in the next episode. Eda taking care of Serkan after he passes out, the two of them reaffirming their commitment to each other with the tattoos & possible elopement, Eda reassuring Serkan that she will be at his side even if the kid turns out to be his and also the two of them working together to get to the truth. So darn excited! And if the spoilers are right that Deniz tells Eda the truth and Serkan sees the photos from Ferit then I will be so happy. It is time for Selin to go for good!

SELIN MUST GO. Yes, I think as soon as the news that Selin is pregnant and trying to pass it off as Serkan’s brain-fog baby, Ferit will unleash the photos. (if it’s him that has them).

I just want Selin and Deniz gone so we can focus on other things. Their presence on this show is a energy drain, and I want to focus on rain frolicking, motorcycles and bed sharing!!!!!

Anonymous said: I'm so glad that we had a scene of Serkan telling Eda that even without his memories he fell in love with her again, he just couldn't admit it. Serkan has an interesting perspective on the memory loss part of their lives where I think he almost feels too guilty about it all and just wants to move past it. I've noticed that in his dialogues in 36 & 37 where he wants to leave it in the past and basically do his all to make it all up to her in the present and future.

I think this is very well observed. He definitely was trying to leave the past in the past, but honestly I think that’s just laziness on the part of the old writers, not wanting to have to have a reckoning for all the things they had him say or do. Since the writers decided to go that way, I could buy it’s because Serkan feels too guilty about it all. We know how much he loathes making mistakes or being wrong or owing apologies. If that’s what they wanted to do, it would have gone a long way if they’d shown a bit more of him blaming himself, especially in 36.

I was also very happy that Serkan came out and said that he’s fallen in love with her again. My only thing is I wish if they were going to do that, they would have thrown a little more detail in the dialogue. Like Serkan admitting to her that he started thinking about her all the time as soon as he returned and met her, maybe admit that he slept on his office couch clutching her wedding invitation. A couple of things like that would have been very nice for Eda to hear.

Anonymous said: SCK sure loves creating difficult situations for Eda & Serkan. I really felt for Serkan in the last episode especially since he was back to being the romantic robot we all love. He so baldly wants to make up for lost time with Eda that he rushes ahead with the proposal and then gets crushed when she rejects him. And then spends most of the episode frantically trying to figure out what is going on with her and trying to show her how much he loves her. I was really happy though that the show addressed a few different times how awful the last few months have been for Eda and it also made Serkan address it. His plan to just forget about everything and move forward did not happen. Loved that the side characters stepped up to remind him of everything he & Selin put Eda through. Not so crazy that the show decided to use Selin’s pregnancy as the plot device to get Serkan to finally realize “oh yeah, what happened since my accident is a very big deal & now I have to face it & come to terms with it” but still glad it happened. Selin is obviously so much more in the wrong than Serkan but let’s hope her downfall takes place in the next episode.

All of this. I think you’re exactly right, Serkan tried to brush past everything and I’m glad that finally the other characters stepped up a little to help make him see that he had more work to do. Special shout out to Seyfi for his sassy comment about Serkan almost marrying another woman. And finally Piril was useful and acted like a friend, the first time she had since he returned.

#Sen Cal Kapimi #Edser #sen çal kapımı #SCK Speculation #SCK Episode discussion #sck 1x38 #sck 1x27 #sckask #asklizac #anonymous

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