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cherrybracelets · 4 years

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Freefall

aaron hotchner x fem!reader

word count: 15.3k | warnings: smut!!!! alcohol mention, murder mention, rape mention, lots of typical cm violence!

inspired by: its called freefall by rainbow kitten surprise (i highly recommend listening to this song before or during reading!)

Anyway, you say you’re too busy saving everybody else to save yourself / And you don’t want no help, oh well / That’s the story to tell

ok i have put my blood sweat and tears in this lamfkndksjfj this has been my wip for almost 3 weeks this is my entry for @veraiconcos fic challenge!! her prompt fit so perfectly with this fic so i am so excited to share it with you guys. this is by far my most challenging piece and the one i worked the longest on. i really hope you all love it, feedback is much appreciate. i am tagging some moots to signal boost this, i hope u dont mind

Aaron-

This woman killed my dad. They said you’d be able to help. Please find her.

Aaron ran his fingertips over the letter one more time, feeling the depth of the pen, the engravement of each letter into the crisp stationary. He reread the words for a thousandth time, wondering if this time he could discover who actually sent the letter. But unfortunately, just like the past times, there was nothing to indicate who the sender was. The only other thing in the picture was a photograph of a young woman, the person Aaron believed was the murderer. Her face was mostly covered, and he was almost certain the short black bob that sat on her head was a wig. There was nothing about the photo that would help identify her, but on the back of the photo was a date- May 7th 2020, and a city, Sante Fe, NM.

He continued to stare at it, hoping some new information would pop out at him this time. But there was nothing, and he knew if he wanted to find whoever was responsible for this crime, he would need to involve the team. Whoever sent this clearly only wanted Aaron involved, even addressing him personally as Aaron and not Agent Hotchner.. Who could this person be? And who sent him Aaron’s way?

“You’re here early,” JJ hesitated, walking through the doors of the BAU to begin her day.

“Yeah… I’ve got kind of a… thing?” Aaron stammered over his words, trying to decide how he should go about this.

“What’s going on, Hotch?”

“Come take a look at this. It was on my desk yesterday.” Hotch waved JJ over to him, holding the letter tightly in hands. He handed it to her hesitantly, still not feeling comfortable sharing with the rest of the team. It could be a prank, a practical joke, somebody just trying to waste his time. But how did it find it’s way onto his desk? Who would be messing with him like this?

“Was there an envelope?” JJ asked, staring at the words on the paper.

“Yes, addressed to me, but no return address. It seems like it was hand delivered.”

“The handwriting looks like a teenagers, how would he have made it all the way from New Mexico?”

“Maybe somebody else delivered it?”

Aaron and JJ’s attention was quickly taken away when Spencer and Derek walked through the doors, their loud voices cracking through the quiet air of the BAU. They were arguing about something pointless, as they usually did. Aaron felt his head throbbing as the day started to begin, unsure of how much longer he’d be able to make it without some strong coffee.

“JJ, keep this between us for now. I’ll bring it to Garcia, see if she can find anything worth investigating. I don’t want to bring it to the team unless I’m sure we have a case.”

“Understood.” JJ smiled kindly at him, a look he was all too familiar with. Ever since Haley died, it felt like everyone was constantly walking on eggshells around him. Everyone felt bad, and they did whatever he asked without complaint. From a boss standpoint, it was nice, not having to argue your decisions to your team. But, they were more than his team. They were his friends, and he felt he lost them the same day he lost Haley.

Aaron greeted Spencer and Derek quickly, not wanting to get pulled into whatever discussion they were having. He was holding onto the letter tightly, afraid of losing it. He wasn’t sure what it was, but he just had a feeling about it. Like he had stumbled onto something huge, and whatever Garcia could find out would lead them to something unbelievable.

“Hey, Garcia. Any chance I could have you work on something… private, for now?” Aaron stood in the doorway of her office, all of the bright screens making him wince. His headache was only getting worse as the day went on.

“Of course, sir. Is everything okay?” She looked worried, for sure hoping that whatever secret task she was performing for him had nothing to do with Haley. Although he knew she would never say anything, he could tell she was worried about him.

“I need you to check deaths in Santa Fe, NM from May 5th - May 9th. Specifically look for men with teenage sons.”

“Just homicides?”

“No, any deaths. And see if you find anything suspicious.”

“Alright…” Penelope said, furrowing her brows in confusion. “It might take a bit. Santa Fe’s a big city.”

“Just get back to me when you can, Garcia.” Aaron smiled slightly at the technical analyst, before leaving quietly. His head was begging him for caffeine, or Advil, or a drink, even though it was barely 9 in the morning.

He walked quietly back to his office, not talking to any of his team, closing the door behind him as he got inside. There was a sick feeling in his stomach, most likely caused by the cigarette he snuck this morning on an empty stomach. He paced uncomfortably, dry swallowing an Advil he found in the back of his desk drawer. He knew it would take Garcia a while

to get his information, but he was feeling exceptionally frustrated and impatient. He started to walk towards the door, feeling the need to to pester his analyst to work quicker, but as he opened it, JJ stood pleasantly in the door.

“We got a case, boss,” she smiled, waving an envelope in the air.

“Alright, let’s get to the conference room.” Aaron closed the door to office, following his Agent into the annex. He felt sick as he took his seat, not ready for whatever horror was about to be presented. Some days he felt like giving up, like throwing in the towel. He has given this job everything he had, and what did he get in return?

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Aaron and the team left an hour later for their newest destination, solving the case within 3 days. They were headed back to DC on the jet when he got a call from Garcia. It was rare she would call him personally if they were not working a case, so he knew it must’ve been about the letter. He waited a moment before answering, anxious about what her news could be. What if she found nothing, and this was the end of the line?

“Hello, sir. I wanted to call as soon as I could.” She sounded nervous, a tone of confusion in her voice.

“What’s going on, Garcia?”

“Well, it’s about the letter. I found something… interesting.”

“Do you think we could have a case?”

“It’s a high possibility, sir.”

“Alright. Can you patch into the computer and share with the team. I’d like to bring them in on this as well.”

“Sounds good, see you in a moment.”

Aaron hung the phone up, walking back to the main part of the jet and back to the rest of the team. They were spread out, all enjoying the calming feeling of a solved case. Spencer and JJ were sleeping, Emily and Derek both with headphones in and Rossi reading a book. He hated to bother them, hated to disturb their peace they all deserved. But that was the job- there was no peace. They all had to endure constant chaos so that innocent people didn’t have to.

Aaron turned on the lights of the jet, alarming his team and causing several groans of frustration.

“What’s going on, Hotch?” Emily asked in desperation, her eyes squinting as they adjusted to the light.

“I’m sorry to bother everyone, but I think we might have a new case.” Aaron looked around the room, slowly watching the faces of his friends change from their relaxed state to the intensity of a profiler.

“Is this about… the thing from a few days ago?” JJ asked quietly, not wanting to bring it up if it wasn’t the case.

“The letter, yes.”

“Hello, my sleepy friends. I am sorry to bother you, but I have stumbled across something interesting that I believe requires your attention. Uh, Hotch… would you like to…” she trailed off, looking around for her superior to explain how they ended up here.

“I received a letter a few days ago… someone asking us to look into the death of their father. It was anonymous, there was a picture along with it but it still wasn’t enough to do much on my own. So, I handed over what I had to Garcia and…” Aaron trailed off, realizing now he hadn’t even asked Penelope what she got before bringing the rest of the team in.

“I guess that’s where I come in. So, as per our humble leader, I searched for deaths of men on the given dates with teenage sons, and as I expected, that list was quite large.”

“Why teenage sons?” Derek asked, still trying to fill in the gaps of information.

“The letter was clearly written by a young boy, no older than 16 was my guess,” JJ added, explaining her conclusion to the team.

“Garcia, were you able to narrow down the list?” Aaron asked, desperately wanting to know what she found.

“Well, I got rid of anyone whose death was expected. People who were sick or in the hospital, with underlying medical conditions, et cetera et cetera. Once we narrowed it down to deaths that were true accidents, I had a list of three.”

“How do we know this isn’t just a prank?” Rossi asked. It was a fair question, a question he frequently asked himself as well.

“Ah, well, if it was a prank I wouldn’t have found out what I did…”

“That looks like the face of someone who’s about to tell me I’m not going home tonight,” Derek laughed, turning to Emily, who rolled her eyes.

“Unfortunately it does seem like there’s a case here. One of the men that I flagged as ‘Could Be A Murder Victim’ has a… bad past.” One thing that Aaron always admired about Penelope is how she always managed to speak with such lightness, no matter how heavy the content of her words. “42-year old Derek Hood was killed on May 7th, ruled as an accidental drug overdose. There was some chatter that it may have been suicide, but there was no note and the family insisted he wouldn’t have killed himself.”

“So what makes you think it was murder?” Spencer asked.

“Alright, get this. Our man Jason was on trial two years ago for the rape of three different 16 year old girls. It was declared a mistrial, unfortunately, after all three of the girls refused to testify at his trial.”

“Is it possible he threatened them? This could be a revenge killing, if that was the case,” Emily added.

“Ah, I thought that too, my friend. But all three of the girls are now in college and far, far away from Sante Fe. So, that was kind of a dead end.”

“What about the parents?” Aaron questioned.

“We think alike, sir. All three of their families still reside in Santa Fe, and three weeks before Jason’s death, all three couples withdrew $15,000 cash from their banks. One family stated it was for a pool, the other for a car, and the last family stated it was for bathroom renovations.”

“Were any of those projects completed, Garcia?”

“To the best of my knowledge, no.”

“So this is what I think it is, then,” Rossi asked, looking up towards Aaron for confirmation.

“It’s most likely a hitman, yes.” Aaron looked around at his team, a feeling of worry drowning him. Hitmen were exceptionally dangerous, and so were the routes to get to them. It was an extremely well protected underground business, and the chances of catching one successfully, with no one hurt, were very slim.

“Wait, but our unsub is a woman. The photo very clearly showed a female, and even in the letter, the boy addresses her as ‘This woman.’”

“Could we see the picture, Garcia?” Aaron asked, staring at the monitor as he awaited the photo.

“Maybe they’re dressing as a woman to distract any possible witnesses?” Rossi added. The photo then popped up on the monitor, the same hidden person that was ingrained in Aaron’s brain. He couldn’t forget her, her shielded face, cheap wig, perfect body…

“That is definitely a woman, guys. You can’t fake that body…” Derek laughed, causing a wave of eye rolls and a slight shove of disgust from Emily.

“A female hitman… that is exceptionally rare.”

“Maybe she’s killing for justice? I mean, Jason was a piece of shit. And he somehow got away with his crimes, maybe this is punishment,” Derek added, always the first to try to come up with some sort of explanation.

“Why would she charge the parents almost fifty grand, though? That clearly makes it about money,” Emily rebutted.

“Garcia, is there any way we can find out who they gave that money too?” Aaron asked, hoping for a quick and easy answer, but he knew nothing was easy at this job.

“Since they took it out in cash, there’s no way to trace it, sir.”

“We’ll need to talk to the parents.”

“They won’t say anything, you know how that goes,” JJ said.

“We’ll target one of them, whichever is the most unstable. Promise them immunity. That usually works in situations like this.” Aaron looked at the team, noticing how tired they were. He knew how bad they needed to go home, sleep in their own beds, wash their hair with something other than hotel shampoo. But this was big, he could feel it. And they probably did, as well. It was their life, they were all aware of how crazy this career path could be. But, just because he knew that, it didn't make it any easier on Aaron when he had to push them to their limit. “We need to turn the plane around to Santa Fe. If this person is local, it’s best that we’re on the scene.”

“Can we at least stop home so I can get some new clothes?” JJ groaned, looking at the team in desperation for support.

“Fine. Can we be back in the air in two hours?”

“We can make that work,” Spencer agreed.

“Alright. Thanks, guys.”

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Santa Fe was hot. The kind of hot that made it impossible to breathe, and your clothes felt like they had melted into your skin. Aaron could feel his skin on fire, burning hotter and hotter as he stood under the desert sun. Emily stood next to him, glistening in a thin layer of sweat. The two of them stared closely at a house across the street, taking in every detail.

“You ready?” Emily asked, her voice cracking through the quiet air like a whip.

“Uh… yeah,” Aaron stuttered, his brain feeling off. He had a feeling whoever this person was, she wasn’t in Sante Fe. This was a big operation that they had stumbled upon, and he had a bad feeling about the way it would end up.

Aaron followed Emily to the door, feeling exceptionally guilty as they entered the front yard of a family whose lives had been destroyed- and all they were there to do was destroy them further. He knew they only did what they did to avenge their daughter- and he understood. Sometimes he wondered if he should’ve done the same thing with Foyet.

“Are you alright, Hotch? I don’t mean to overstep, but you don’t seem like yourself,” Emily questioned, stopping in her tracks before they made their presence known to the family.

“Just have a bad feeling about this one, I guess,” he responded, rubbing his head with his thumb and forefinger. “Let’s get this over with…”

“Aye aye, sir.”

The two of them walked to the front door of the small house, knocking slightly quietly on the white painted wood of the door. An older man opened the door, immediately tensing up as he saw the two of them. They looked like Agents- or at the very least, local detectives, and the man was pretty quick to understand why they were there.

“Are you Bradley Mathis?” Emily asked, standing a few inches in front of Aaron, clearly trying to take the lead on this. It was probably for the best, since his head was not on right today. In all honesty, his head hadn’t been on right since Foyet.

“Who are you?” Bradley asked defensively, crossing his arms across his chest and backing away from the door.

“Mr. Mathis, I want to assure you that if you cooperate with us, there will be no trouble. We understand you did everything to protect your daughter, and we aren’t looking for trouble. We just want to find the person who did this for you.” As Aaron spoke, he realized how scary this must be for him. His daughter was brutally attacked, they found the man that hurt her, and then he threatened her into silence so he could walk free. If it had happened to Aaron’s kid, he would’ve killed the son of a bitch with his own bare hands.

“You promise me nothing will happen to me?” He asked defensively, his eyes darting nervously across the room.

“I never met her, okay. I swear,” he responded in relief, as if he’d been waiting for the moment he could finally tell somebody. It was exhausting caring around those kinds of secrets. “I got her info from a friend. You go to the website, submit your claim, and she’ll send an assistant out to decide if she’ll take you on as a client. If she decides to help you, you’ll give half the money up front, and half upon proof of… death,” he whispered, closing his eyes as he spoke the words.

“That’s pretty standard practice for what she is…” Emily added.

“How did you find her website?” Aaron asked, wanting to leave this man in peace as quickly as possible.

“There’s some… tricks to finding her. Give me one second,” he said, turning around quickly and darting to another room. Emily reached for her gun defensively, but Aaron put a hand on her shoulder and shook his head.

“He won’t run.”

“How do you know? He has every reason to dart.”

“I just know. He’ll be back. Trust me.” Aaron looked to his Agent, kindly suggesting but also ordering her to relax. She nodded, crossing her arms as the pair waited for Bradley. As Aaron suspected, he came back a few minutes later with a beat up piece of paper.

“Someone I know from the support group gave me this. It’s how to contact her.” He handed them a brochure that was in pretty bad shape, but still legible enough to understand where to go. From the outside, it looked like a brochure for a dental surgery. But there were certain words highlighted, most likely by whoever gave Bradley this in the first place. It mapped out clear instructions on how to contact this mystery vigilante.

“That’s all I know. I swear.”

“I believe you,” Aaron responded, noticining the calmness flooding over Bradley’s face as Aaron spoke. “You can never tell anybody this, do you understand?”

Bradley nodded, his mouth glued shut as the reality of the situation finally weighed on him. He noticed the guns holstered to Emily and Aaron’s hips, and quickly shut the door, no goodbye’s needed.

“If she’s sending people to meet potential clients before she meets them, she isn’t local,” Emily put together, shaking her head in shock as the pair walked back to their car.

“No, she’s not. Which means we need to get back on the plane ASAP. Send this over to Garcia, I’ll call the team and tell them to meet us back at the jet.”

“Sounds good.”

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“Hello, angels. Are you ready for all the answers to your prayers?” Garcia’s voice popped through the stiff air of the jet, breaking through the harsh waters like a ray of sunshine.

“Were you able to find her, Garcia?”

“Of course, sir. Our girl is fancy. You need five grand upfront just to meet with her. Her website looks like it was designed for a five star hotel. She is legit.”

“Can we actually find her, Penelope?” Aaron had raised his voice slightly, frustration starting to set in. He just wanted this to be over, he wanted to bring her in and end this.

“Yes, yes. Sorry. Our girl goes by the name Ananke.”

“That’s not very intimidating,” Derek laughed, shaking his head as he sat back in his chair.

“Well, kind of. Ananke is a greek goddess, specifically known as one of the most powerful deity’s to control fate and circumstance. It’s pretty fitting, giving what she does.”

“The only way to meet her is to submit an appointment request, which is easier said than done. She has a legit system, requires a birth certificate, social security number, and a license or passport.”

“And five G’s,” JJ added.

“Can we create fake documents and submit them? Maybe have someone undercover go meet her.”

“I’ll do it. This has been my case from the beginning, I’d like to end it as well,” Aaron said, assuring his team he would finish this.

“I can get everything made up and submitted before you land.”

“Is there any way to figure out where she’s located?”

“Unfortunately not at the moment. I am still digging though, it’s possible I missed something.”

“Thanks, Garcia. We’ll see you soon.”

The team made some more small talk after that, realizing there wasn’t much they could do unless they had a location. Aaron’s head was beginning to throb again, absolute exhaustion overcoming him as he sat down and let himself relax for the first time in days. He missed Jack, he missed the comfort of his own bed, the smell of his cheap laundry detergent. He realized he was digging his nails into his palms, his flesh barely intact as he released his tension.

The rest of his team had broken up into their own conversations, ignoring the crumbling mess that was Aaron Hotchner. He walked to the bathroom quietly, snooping through the cabinets and finding a small bottle of vodka. He downed it quickly, letting the liquor burn the back of his throat and take his mind off of everything else. Even if it was for a moment, the distraction was welcomed, and almost necessary for him to keep going.

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It was two full days- almost forty eight hours exactly- when they finally heard back from Ananke. She had agreed to meet with ‘Zachary Wilson’ who was looking for revenge against the drunk driver that killed his wife. And to the whole team’s surprise, it appeared that she was located in DC. Ananke herself said she would meet him, stating that she was ‘in the area’.

The address she gave them appeared to be a popular nightclub in college town, one that Aaron had unfortunately been dragged to on multiple occasions. The team agreed that Aaron should meet her alone, the team standing outside to come in if necessary. She wanted to meet him on a Friday night, which meant the place would be flooded with innocent civilians. It was safest if they stayed out of it, at first.

By the time Friday rolled around, Aaron had barely eaten in days. He was staying alive on coffee, tylenol, and mini bottles of vodka he could keep in his pockets. Oh, and the occasional cigarette was a necessity as well. He had waited anxiously for what felt like weeks to meet her. This case had been weighing on him since the moment he received that letter, and he wanted it to be over. He wanted the anxiety and the chaos to be over. But, once they solved this one, there would just be another after, and the cycle of chaos and anxiety begins all over again.

“I hope you know you can't dress like that,” JJ said, teasing Aaron with a light shove as she walked past him.

“Why?”

“It’s… a business suit, Hotch. And you're going to a nightclub. It screams Fed.”

Aaron looked down at himself, realizing JJ was right. His vibes screamed ‘Cop’, and that was exactly what he did not want.

“Don’t worry, sir. I have something you can borrow from my go bag,” Derek suggested.

“Hotch in Derek’s clothes? That’s something I’ll pay good money to see,” Emily laughed, JJ giggling alongside her as Derek rolled his eyes and threw clothes at the two of them.

“You think these will work?” Derek asked the girls, not bothering with Aaron’s opinion.

“Oh, it’s perfect. Hotch will love these,” they laughed, neatly folding the clothes and handing them to Aaron. He walked away in silence, heading towards his office so he could change. The clothes weren’t a perfect fit, but they were better than his suit. The shirt was way too tight, with a v-neck that was way too deep. His arms felt like they would rip right through the cheap cotton, and his ass felt like it was going to bust straight out of the denim.

He began to walk out of the office quietly, hoping that the rest of the team wouldn’t be waiting for his fashion show. But as he figured, they were standing by patiently for him to show off in Derek’s way too tight clothes. As soon as he opened the door, a riot of laughs and cat calls surrounded him. He felt himself blushing, which was something he hadn’t done in a long time.

“Damn, Hotch. Where have you been hiding those arms?” Derek laughed, his voice echoing through Aarons head.

“I think we need to start casual Friday,” Spencer added, staring in awe at his boss.

“Alright, enough guys. This is a serious case, and I need everyone to be on their best behavior.”

“I’m not sure I can act right with you walking around like that,” Rossi joked, causing the rest of the team to burst out with laughter. Aaron just rolled his eyes, secretly appreciating the light that they all brought to his life.

“Alright, you guys ready to go?”

“All set. Let’s go catch a killer, sir.”

The ride to the club was a bit of a hike, a little over thirty minutes by the time they parked. They were split in two cars, seperated to cover both entrances. The plan was for him to go in and assess the situation, hoping he can get her out without harming any bystanders. If he needed backup, he had an alarm he could trigger that would alert the rest of the team to come in. It was a simple plan, one they had executed a thousand times in the past. But despite that, he felt extremely anxious.

“Are you ready, Aaron?” Rossi asked, raising his eyebrows in concern.

“Yeah, let’s get this over with. Stay alert, guys.” Aaron walked out of the car and to the entrance of the club, staring directly at the large bouncer standing in front of the door. He was given very specific instructions on what to see when he approached the man, ones that would deliver him directly to Ananke and avoid having to deal with the actual club.

“You on the list?” The bouncer asked as Aaron approached, not even bothering to look up from his clipboard.

“I’m here to see… A,” he whispered, looking around frantically to see if anyone else heard.

“You got your ID and confirmation number?” He asked, setting his clipboard down and staring intensely at Aaron.

“Uh, yeah. It’s 73491. And here’s my drivers license,” he responded, handing him the forged Virginia license of one Zachary Wilson.

“Zachary Wilson…” the man whispered, making Aaron sick to his stomach as he awaited the man to deny him and send him away, ruining his chances of finding her forever. “You’re gonna go in this door, right here,” he said, pointing towards a hidden and seemingly locked door to his right. “Take the stairs all the way up, knock on the door twice. She’ll be right with you.”

“Thank you,” he responded, relieved as he began to walk past the guard and towards his end goal.

“Oh, and Zachary,” the man added, causing Aaron to turn around in confusion.

“Remember: lei è dalla nostra parte,” he said, a smile creeping on his face as he spoke. Aaron recognized the language as Italian, but he couldn’t translate what he was saying. The bouncer turned around before Aaron had the chance to ask what he meant, but he figured it would just be better to move on and go directly to her.

He slowly opened the door, unsure of what he would find on the other side. To his surprise, it was only an exceptionally narrow staircase in a small hallway, leading directly to another gray door. The sound of fluorescent lights buzzed in the air, making Aaron dizzy as he walked up the steep steps. He remembered what the man said- knock twice. He also remembered the phrase in Italian, lei è dalla nostra parte. And when he finally got to the door, he began to unravel the words in his head. He knocked twice, replaying the words over and over. And when he finally heard the door click open, he understood what the man had meant. She is on our side.

“Zachary?” A man asked, opening the door slightly, only enough to peak out at him.

“Yes. I’m here to see-”

“Ananke. Of course,” he interrupted, swinging the door open and revealing an exceptionally beautiful and ornate room. Aaron walked in slowly, in a daze, his eyes not sure where to look as every piece of the room exceptionally thought out. There was a beautiful chandelier hanging from the ceiling, the light reflecting rainbows from the crystals.

“She will be with you shortly. Feel free to have a seat somewhere. Can I get you anything to drink?”

Aaron felt like he was at a hotel, the service impeccable as he sat down on the incredibly comfortable and probably very expensive couch. Most hit men he had met with did not present themselves like this. Whoever she was, she had a lot of money. In that moment, he wondered how many lives she had taken- how many people finally got what they deserved. And for a brief and frightening moment, he wondered if she was doing things right?

His thoughts were interrupted when she walked out. Not only did he lose his train of thought, but his breath was literally ripped from his chest. She was no longer covering her face, or wearing a wig. She had finally revealed herself to him, and he was in awe. She was absolutely stunning- beautiful to a level that made his head spin and his heart cramp up. He stood up instinctively, feeling the need to stand and greet her face to face. As she walked closer, he felt his throat getting tighter and tighter.

“Hello,” she spoke, her words floating through the air like a flower in the spring wind. “I’m Ananke.”

“Mhmm, he,” he stuttered, sticking his hand out to shake hers. “I’m…” he choked, unable to get his words out.

“Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner, right?” She smiled, and Aaron instinctively reached for his gun.

“Put your weapon away, Aaron. I’m no threat to you,” she instructed, and he complied. For some reason, he believed her. She had no intention of hurting him or anyone else in this building. He didn’t need his weapon.

“How do you know who I am?”

“The FBI has a list of Social Security numbers they regularly use for fake documents. It’s… a hard list to get your hands on. I’m lucky I have friends in high places.”

“So you knew who I was from the minute I submitted my application?” He was shocked, a sick feeling washing over him. Who was she? How was she consistently one step ahead of them?

“I’m sorry to break your sense of superiority, agent. It hurts when someone is smarter than you, doesn't it?” She tilted her head at him, a devilish grin pasted across her face. He wanted to hate her, he wanted to be angry, but all he could focus on was the fire burning inside of him and the hunger building itself, the craving overcoming her. Her skirt revealed a little too much of her thigh and her shirt was a little too low cut and the thought of her flesh on his rippled its way through his body.

“Well, we found you and I’m going to arrest you, so it doesn’t seem like you came out on top here,” he responded, avoiding eye contact as he tried to get his impure thoughts out of his head.

“Agent Hotchner, something you will quickly learn is that I only come on top.” She winked at him, pursuing her lips slightly and smiling. She held her wrists out to him, walking towards him until she was only inches away. “Are you going to arrest me, Agent?”

Aaron reached for the cuffs in his back pocket, pulling them out slowly and staring directly at her. She didn't take his eyes off of him, standing tall as he began to cuff her. Her hands were soft, almost comical as they brushed against his rough and untouched skin. He didn’t speak, and neither did she. He just closed the cuffs on her, her large eyes staring up at him like a doe. He felt dizzy again, the intoxicating smell of her perfume, the subtle hints of berries and vanilla surrounding him in a whirlwind.

He slowly grabbed his phone from his pocket, trying to dial Rossi’s number, feeling drunk as he pressed the button. What was wrong with him? And what was wrong with her? Why would she willingly let herself get arrested so easily? That was the problem. This was exceptionally easy. Nothing was ever this easy.

“Hey, Rossi. I got her. We’re coming down now.”

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Aaron wasn’t surprised that she remained silent the entire car ride back to Quantico. What he was surprised by is that she didn’t appear nervous or angry. She sat calmly, staring out the window, her body relaxed and her lips forming the slightest smile. It made him angry- he didn’t understand her nonchalance.

They tried to talk to her, ask her for her real name, about her crimes- but she would just look at them, tilting her head and smiling before bringing her gaze back outside. When they finally arrived back at the Bureau, she turned towards Aaron and Rossi, slowly speaking her first words in over thirty minutes.

“Am I allowed a phone call?” She asked, staring directly at Aaron, as if it was only the two of them in the car. For a moment, it felt like they were the only two people in the entire world.

“Who exactly would you like to call?” Rossi smirked, rolling his eyes, trying to get Aaron to look at him. But he couldn’t take his eyes away from her. He was drawn to her like a sailor at sea, listening to the sweet song of the siren. He understood, now, why the sailors always swam to their death. It was because it was so damn beautiful.

“I’d like to speak with the Director,” she insisted, her eyes finally releasing Aaron from his hypnosis as she looked in disgust at Rossi. He could sense the shift in her tone as she looked at the agent- she had built up a terrifying exterior that she had on display for most people. But when she looked at Aaron, the wall somehow didn’t exist. Why would she show her true self to a stranger? What was it about him that she was drawn too? Could she sense his pain? Did she know that he understood why she did what she did? That he, too, had felt the rush of ending evil with his own two hands?

“The Director? Of the FBI?” Rossi asked, shocked at her absurd request. “What exactly would you like to speak to him about?”

“I just think he’d be interested to know I’m here,” she spoke, calmly, sitting back in the seat of the car and looking out the window again.

“This girl is nuts…” Rossi whispered to Aaron before getting out of the car and grabbing ‘Ananke’ from the back seat. Aaron followed closely behind, his eyes locked on Rossi’s tight grip around her flesh. He could see the marks his agent was leaving behind, his fingertips dug into her arm. It made him sick. The thought of anyone harming her made him sick. But she was the bad guy- he was supposed to hate her, to send her away and avenge all of the lives she took. Why did he want to save her so bad? Grab her from Rossi, hop in the car and take her away from all of this. It didn’t make sense, the way he felt. And Aaron hated it- he hated feeling out of control of his own thoughts- his own desires.

As they brought her into the BAU, the rest of the team following behind, he immediately noticed something was off when he walked through the doors. The rest of the team must have noticed as well, because they all kind of stopped in their tracks as they walked in.

Derek noticed her first, pacing back and forth in Aaron’s office.

“Strauss,” he groaned, rolling his eyes at the sight of her.

“What is she doing here?” JJ asked, crossing her arms and tensing up.

“I’m not sure. I’ll go find out. Rossi, can you bring her into the interrogation room? Spencer, try and get something out of her,” Aaron instructed his team, watching them seperate and do their assigned tasks as he walked up to his office. When he got closer, he noticed the Director was also there as well. He got a sick feeling in his stomach, remembering his immediate thoughts when he first arrested Ananke. It’s never this easy.

He opened his office door with shaking hands, immediately slapped in the face with tension clinging to the air. The Director stood up as he entered, and Strauss stopped pacing.

“Aaron,” she whispered, her eyes darting nervously around the room.

“Erin,” he smirked, not sure why his brain was choosing this moment to crack jokes.

“It’s good to see you, Agent Hotchner. It’s been a while,” the Director said.

“Chris. It’s good to see you as well. Can I ask what you’re doing in my office?”

The two of them looked nervously at each other, as if deciding who had to tell him the unspoken secret. The first thought in his brain was that Foyet was back. He killed him, though. He remembered the life draining out of him. He couldn’t be back. He felt his body get hot, his breathing picking up as he remembered Foyet’s face…

“Aaron… unfortunately, we’re going to need you to let (Y/N) go.”

“Who?” He asked bluntly, confused at the name he was sure he had never heard before. Although his brain was still spinning, he was feeling calmer knowing whatever this was, it wasn’t about Foyet.

“Ananke. You need to release her,” Strauss clarified, her voice equally annoyed and apologetic.

“I’m sorry… I’m confused.” Aaron was realizing now how much easier it was to hate Ananke - or (Y/N) - when she wasn't right in front of him. He couldn’t see her, she couldn’t lure him in. Her spell had broken. “I know for a fact she killed at least one person. I’m not releasing her.”

“Aaron, this goes beyond you. She is no longer a person of interest.” Chris had raised his voice, clearly frustrated at whatever was happening.

“You can’t just take away my unsub and not tell me why. Do you think my team will be okay with that? Do you think I’ll be okay with that?” Aaron was angry, the thought of them taking her away with no reason making him crazy.

“Agent Hotchner, there are some secrets within the Bureau that even you don’t know about.”

“I don’t accept that.”

Chris and Strauss looked defeated, both accepting that they won’t win this battle. Chris shook his head slightly and closed his eyes, contemplating his words.

“What is going on, Strauss?” Aaron begged, the room beginning to spin again, his body craving the sweet release of nicotine and the bitter taste of vodka.

“Your unsubs real name is (Y/N) (Y/L/N). She is a government protected assassin.”

“What?” Aaron’s head was spinning, the room around him dancing in circles as the words floated through his mind. That couldn’t be real. There was no way the place he worked, that he believed upheld justice, would do something so… unjust. So immoral. They had to be lying. “It’s not possible. We met the man that paid her to kill someone. She was paid by a civilian to kill a civilian.”

“She sometimes takes on… side projects,” Chris muttered, clearly knowing his words would upset Aaron.

“And you allow that?” He yelled, his body fuming with anger as he paced around his office. It didn't make sense. Everything he had ever believed in was crumbling right before his eyes- all because of her.

“With the things she has done for us, Aaron, there is a little bit of lenience. Besides, Jason was a bad person, anyways.”

“That doesn’t make it okay. We have a justice system in place for a reason.” He felt sick, the realization that a system he protected for so long was seeping with corruption.

“Did Foyet get his chance for trial? Or did the justice system not count for him?” Strauss looked at him sternly, frustration written on her face. Aaron realized she was right. He took justice into his own hands with Foyet, and he didn’t regret it. How was she doing anything different? For a moment, nothing made sense to Aaron. His entire belief system had shattered right in front of him. He was speechless, his brain splashing around trying to find the right words to express his disbelief. But he was coming up empty, drawing blanks. There was truly nothing he could say that could capture how he felt. He just thought of her, the sweet smell of berries that lingered in her hair, the softness of her skin, the enticing aura that surrounded her when she looked at him.

“What am I supposed to tell my team?” He thought out loud.

“We’ll handle it. Let’s go out and talk to them now,” Chris instructed, walking out of the office and down towards the annex. Rossi noticed the three of them and quickly walked up to Chris, greeting him.

“Could you gather your team for me?” The director asked, Aaron still unsure of how he would explain this to them. Rossi grabbed everyone pretty quickly, dragging Spencer from the interrogation room, which Aaron could only imagine was going very poorly.

“Hello everyone, I’m sorry to bother you all, but the unsub you brought in today is a person of interest in several international crimes. She’s been on our watch list for a while, now, and we’re going to have to hand her over to interpol.” The Directors words were quick and precise, leaving no room for anyone to second guess him. Even Aaron was convinced they weren’t going to release her the minute they were alone.

“What has she done?” JJ questioned, intrigued at the mystery international criminal they brought in.

“It’s classified, Agent. And if you don’t mind, we’d like to get out of here rather quickly. If someone could grab her, please,” he ordered, causing Spencer to quickly walk to the room she was in and bring her back out to them.

She was smirking widely as she walked out, clearly knowing her freedom was inevitable. He had so many questions for her, so much he needed to know, but he had to keep his mouth shut. She was slipping right through his fingers, and he had only just begun to know her.

“I’m so sorry, Aaron. I know how much you enjoyed seeing me in handcuffs,” she whispered to him as she passed by, winking seductively before being taken away by the Director and Strauss.

Aaron felt miserable as she walked away, the three of them heading into the elevator and away from him forever. She now felt only like a ghost, a distant memory fading away as more time went by without her. The team moved on from the loss in a matter of minutes, but Aaron stood there, frozen in place, waiting desperately for her to come back.

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Five days. He was able to wait five days before he went to see her. He tried so desperately to forget about her- it seemed everyone else had. But she seeped into his dreams, tossing and turning as he tried to sleep, her voice, her face, her body, calling to him. He needed to see her again, just to ask her why. He wouldn’t sleep ever again if he didn’t.

So, five days after she walked away, he waited until Jack was asleep, explained to Jessica that he had some paperwork to take care of, and headed to see her. His brain continuously tried to tell him it was a bad idea. He should turn around, go home, and forget her. But he knew it was easier said than done. This was the only way.

When he got to the club, he noticed the same bouncer from before was sitting outside the door. Aaron felt a bit relieved, hoping the man would recognize him and he could lie his way up to (Y/N)’ door.

“Hey, man,” he said casually, trying to sound as calm and not suspicious as possible.

“Can I help you?” The man grunted, clearly not amused by Aaron’s attempt to be friendly.

“I’m here to see A. We met a few days ago, I need to drop my money off,” he whispered, praying to whatever God was listening that this guy would believe his story.

“A isn’t supposed to be meeting anyone tonight,” he groaned, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. Aaron could tell it was a long shot, but he had to do whatever he could to see her.

“Call her. She’ll tell you,” he stuttered, looking anxiously at the large man standing between him and (Y/N). It was possible he could take him down if he had to, Aaron thought. It would be a hell of a fight, but he’d brought down bigger men. He shifted instinctively, trying to casually feel his hip and make sure he was still armed.

The man pulled out a small phone that appeared to be very old- most likely a burner they used to communicate. He dialed a number quickly and stared at Aaron, as if hoping his boss would give him the go ahead to kick Aaron’s ass.

“Hey, it’s me. Some guy is here to see you. Said you talked earlier today. Can you check the cams,” he asked, trying to speak quietly, but Aaron was still able to hear every word. He waited patiently for her response, trying to keep his face calm.

“Alright, thanks A.” He hung the call up and placed the phone in his pocket, taking as long as possible to give Aaron his answer. It felt like hours, excruciating pain as he waited for his fate.

“You’re clear to go.”

Aaron was almost positive she would send him away. If she had cameras, she knew it was him. Why would she allow him to come up? Did she want to see him, too?

He knew if he stood there any longer contemplating the situation, he would look suspicious. So despite all of his common sense warning him that something was wrong, he walked through the secret door and up the narrow staircase, knocking twice at her door and awaiting to enter her world.

He was greeted by the same man from earlier, who was smiling brightly as he opened the door and let him in. He offered him another drink, which Aaron politely declined, finding a seat on one of the couches and unable to sit still as he waited for her.

She left him waiting for quite a while. Although it felt like hours of agony for Aaron, his watch assured him he had only been waiting around twenty minutes by the time she finally greeted him. She was wearing a short red dress, golden heels wrapped around her feet as she floated towards him, smiling devilishly as she poured herself a drink.

“It’s nice to see you again, Agent,” she teased, taking a sip of her liquor of choice and taking a seat across from him.

“I needed to talk to you.”

“About what?” She tilted her head, soft lips creating a pout of confusion as she stared at him.

“You knew I was going to arrest you the minute you got my application to meet… if you knew you couldn’t get in trouble, why would you let all of that happen? You could’ve called the Director the minute you knew who I was. Why didn’t you?” Aaron needed to know why she went through the trouble of setting up a meeting with him, allowing herself to be arrested and brought to the Bureau. It didn’t make sense, allowing herself to take such a big risk.

“It seemed… fun. Sometimes my life can be quite boring.” She smiled at him, her flirtatious grin that she seemed to save just for Aaron.

“Wasting my time, my team's time… that's fun to you?” Aaron was getting angry again, his body fuming as he looked at her.

“Well, maybe a part of me wanted to meet you. I mean, we’re not so different, Aaron.”

“Hah,” he laughed, rolling his eyes at her. “You think you and I have anything in common?”

“Oh, are you not the same SSA Aaron Hotchner who killed George Foyet with his own hands?”

“How the hell do you know that?” Aaron had stood up at this point, his anger and frustration causing his body to become restless.

“It’s on your record, Agent. It’s not too hard to find…” She took another sip of her drink, finishing the last of the cups content and standing up to face him. For a moment, they were inches apart, the air between them stock full of tension, anger and attraction swimming around the two. But as he prayed he could control his compulsion to touch her, she walked away, over to another corner of the room, grabbing a cigarette and lighting it.

The smell of smoke intoxicated him, making his knees shake as he craved the burn of nicotine in his throat. She floated back towards him, taking her place back on the couch and burning quickly through her cigarette.

“You seem so angry, Aaron.”

“Because you’re killing people, and somehow the people I look up to to maintain law and order don’t care.”

“Have you ever thought that you’re more angry at yourself than at me? I mean, a part of you gets it, right? You understand what I do, why I do it… and that makes you sick, doesn’t it?”

“I would never justify what you do.”

“Mm,” she hummed, standing up and walking towards him again. She placed a soft hand on his face, Aaron realizing her touch was the first he’d felt since Haley died. The feel of his flesh being caressed by someone, being held by someone- it made him melt.

“Maybe it’s not that, though. Maybe you really do hate me, hate what I do. But a part of you can’t stop thinking about touching me, feeling me… fucking me.” She moved her hand down his body, trailing her fingers down his chest and stopping at the base of his groin. He felt chills down his body, blood rushing to his cock at the slightest touch.

“That’s not- it’s not that,” he stuttered, trying to back away, knowing how dangerous it would be for him to get roped into something like this.

“Right, of course,” she whispered, taking her hand away from him and turning around, walking away. He watched her body as she floated across the room, his eyes glued to her ass that was begging to be touched by him.

“(Y/N)...” Aaron whispered, calling for her, unable to stand the feeling of her being away from him. She turned towards him, walking back slowly, taking her time and letting him simmer in anticipation as she made her way back to the center of the room. When she made her way back to him, he grabbed her chin with his hand, tilting her face up towards him, her lips inches from his.

“I would never want somebody like you. You are a bad person, no matter what you try to say to me.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, Agent,” she smirked, her lips almost brushing against his as she formed them into a smile.

At that moment, it felt like any self control Aaron had flew directly out the window. He wrapped his other arm around her waist, pulling her body into his and kissing her. It was a kiss that was draped in desperation, anger, lust. His tongue made no attempt to be gentle, selfishly exploring her small mouth and he picked her up and sat her on a table. He tore his shirt off, his desire to be touched, to touch her, overcoming any restraint he had before.

He picked her up, her small frame easy for his trained body to carry swifty to the couch. He threw her down on her back, her body writhing under his, moaning his name so loud that he was sure the club goers downstairs could hear. He wrapped his hands around her neck, gripping gently, listening to her gasp for air as he slid up her dress to reveal nothing underneath.

“You’re just begging for me, aren’t you,” he teased, pulling his hard cock out from his boxers and teasing her entrance with his tip. She nodded slowly at him, unable to speak as he still had his hand gripped around her throat. He was aching to hear her voice again, so he released his hand, getting turned on at the mark he left on her.

He slipped into her slowly, no time to waste on foreplay. He knew he needed her now, that their time was limited and it was only a matter of time before his common sense kicked in and he got out of there. But for the moment, he was sloppily pounding into her, not caring who saw or heard, desperately needing to be as close to her as possible.

He came quickly, the euphoria of feeling another woman for the first time in months too much for him to control. She came too, though. He could tell she wasn’t faking- he could feel it. After they finished, he quickly put his clothes back on, (Y/N) continuing to lay breathlessly on the couch. He watched her for a moment, waiting for her to say something- ask him to stay, kiss him goodbye. But she just pulled herself up and walked towards the other side of the room, grabbing and lighting another cigarette.

“You should go.” (Y/N) instructed, not even bothering to look up at the man who just came inside her moments ago.

“You shouldn’t smoke those, you know. They’ll kill you.” Aaron’s mouth was dry, watching the trail of smoke that followed her as she floated around the room, refusing to give him even a second of her time.

“What do I have to live for?” She asked, finally dragging her tired eyes to his and smiling, one of the first real, and saddest, smiles he had seen from her.

Aaron tried to think of something else to say, racking his brain for the correct words to say. But he continuously came up empty, and he realized he was starting to look more and more suspicious the longer he stood there. He decided to walk away, ignore the part of him that refused to tear away from her.

He walked soberly down the stairs, out onto the street and to his car. As he sat in his drivers seat and started the engine, feeling his face get hot, the rare feeling of wet eyes as he began to cry. And then he started to laugh. An uncontrollable cackle that spilled out of him like a waterfall. It was comical, to look back over the past few months and relive all of the bullshit he had been through. He didn’t even recognize the person in the mirror anymore. And maybe that was a good thing, because the person he used to be was the same person that let Haley die.

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Aaron tried to pretend he didn’t spend every day over the next week thinking about her. The way her soft skin felt when he touched her, the way her lips tasted like bubblegum and her hair smelled like cherries. When he imagined her in his head, everything felt so distant, like he was barely holding on to a dream of her. He could feel her memory slipping away every second, and he couldn’t let that happen.

He had to see her again, and soon. He wondered if she was thinking about him as well, if she remembered the mint chapstick he was wearing, or the Dolce cologne he was wearing. It made him sick, thinking that she forgot him. (Y/N) had slowly become everything to him, what if he was just a passing thought for her?

The team had landed back in DC an hour ago, solving a case in Miami that was one of the easier ones they had had this year. Aaron was grateful for the slight break, his brain not completely in the right headspace.

He rushed to finish up the closing paperwork, scribbling his words sloppily and without much care for grammar. He knew as soon as Strauss read his, she would call him and question his mental state. But he didn’t care. He just needed to get the hell out of here tonight, and if that meant sitting through another of Strauss’s evaluations, it was worth it.

As he was signing the last of the documents, he felt his phone vibrating in his pocket. He grabbed it with caution, not sure who would be calling him this late at night. The call was coming from an unknown number, and Aaron immediately worried something had happened to Jack. He was away at his grandparents this week, planning on staying a few more days. He answered the phone nervously, preparing for whatever horror was to come.

“Hello, Agent,” a female voice said, a voice he instantly recognized as (Y/N)’s. Her voice flowed smoothly like silk even over the phone. It was truly hard to believe how she had managed to perfect every aspect of herself.

“Why- how are you calling me?” He looked around cautiously, making sure no one could secretly hear any part of the phone call.

“I’m flying to Paris this weekend, a little well deserved vacation. I was calling to see if you’d like to join me.”

“I… Paris? I can’t just fly to Paris.” Aaron chuckled into the phone, the idea of someone just getting up and deciding to fly halfway across the world with no plan truly comical to him.

“Oh, I didn’t realize I’d called the Fun Police. I thought this was Aaron Hotchner,” she teased. He could feel her smiling through the phone, a warmth that somehow seemed to wrap him even though he could only see her in his thoughts.

“I can have fun…” he argued, biting his lip awkwardly, not wanting to seem inferior to her.

“When was the last time you did something for yourself, Agent? Have you ever just… been spontaneous?”

“(Y/N), you don’t understand-”

“Call me A on the phone. It’s safer,” she instructed, her voice losing its soft luster as her professional side kicked in.

“A… my job, my life… it doesn't leave room for spontaneity.”

“No, Agent. That’s your choice. I’ll be at the jet runway at Dulles in two hours. Think about it. I’ll wait for you.” She hung the phone up, not giving him room to protest. He set the phone down on his desk, instantly missing her even more than he did before. Jack was going to be with his grandparents for three more days, and he did have some saved up vacation time. But what would he tell the team? What would he tell Strauss?

His phone vibrated again, this time only a single buzz to indicate a text message. He flipped his phone over and saw a new message from an Unknown number.

Life doesn’t have to be so complicated, Agent. It is much too short to spend this much time suffering. Learn to enjoy your days.

He reread the message a thousand times, knowing the words would still reign true no matter how much he tried to convince himself she was in the wrong. He had spent his whole life serving others, and he was okay with it, until now. Maybe if he had lived without complication, and enjoyed his days, his life would be completely different…

He ran home and quickly packed a bag, letting Strauss and Rossi know he needed some ‘alone time’ for a few days. They didn’t question it- one nice thing about having a recent trauma, he thought. He took an Uber to the airport, praying that (Y/N) kept her promise and waited for him.

When he finally arrived on the runway, he noticed her immediately. It was as if even being near her set an alarm off inside of him, like every part of his brain was awake, feeling her energy from a hundred feet away.

He thanked the Uber driver and ran to her, bag in hand. As he got to her, he noticed her face. She wasn’t surprised or shocked in the slightest- she knew he’d come. She somehow knew every move he would make. Was he that predictable… or was it something special between them?

“I have to be home in three days,” he said, breathlessly, overjoyed at the sight of his girl.

“We can do a lot in three days,” she responded, smiling wickedly. She walked towards him, wrapping her arms around his torso and embracing him. It was such a nice feeling to be held, comforted. He felt like he could stay there in her arms for years. But she broke the hug pretty quickly, motioning for one of her men to take care of the bags and began walking towards the jet.

As he followed her up the stairs and into their own private world, he started to remember everything he was leaving behind. The realization of just how impulsive this was dawned on him as he looked back at the city behind him. He felt dizzy, leaning on the railing for support as he shakily walked up.

“You alright?” (Y/N) asked, placing a hand on his arm to steady him.

“This is crazy, (Y/N). I just can’t believe I’m doing this.”

They continued to walk into the jet, her hand intertwined in his as they sat down and the door closed behind them. A man came out from behind the curtain, who Aaron immediately recognized as the same man who greeted him both times he met her.

“Aaron, this is my… well, assistant, I guess. Jay, this is my new friend, Aaron.” She waved to Jay slightly, instructing him to come closer.

“It’s good to meet you sir. Can I get the two of you anything to drink?” Jay was a short boy, couldn't have been more than 25. He clearly worshipped the ground she walked on, which seemed to be par for the course with men she knew.

“Oh, hmm,” she thought, closing her eyes for a moment as she racked her brain for a decision. “Whiskey sour. What would you like?” She turned towards Aaron, the subtle tilt of her head reminding him of how pretty her neck looked with his hands around it.

“I’ll do a Scotch, neat,” he ordered, something so enticing about ordering a drink on a private jet to Paris.

“I’ll grab those for you now. Matt is ready to take off, A, are you all set?” Jay turned back towards his boss, his eyes widening like a puppy as he waited for her words.

“I’m ready to go Jay, thank you,” she smiled, looking at him quickly before bringing her attention back to Aaron. Jay took her disinterest as a sign to leave and make their drinks, so he shuffled away quickly after she looked away.

He came back with their drinks a moment later, leaving quickly after and closing himself in the cockpit. The jet began to take off shortly after, and Aaron took a long sip of his drink, hoping the alcohol would calm any nerves he had left. He started at (Y/N) dreamily, as she shuffled through her phone and a pile on various paperwork on her lap.

“Sorry, Agent, just finishing up some work,” she whispered, her eyes still staring down.

“Mmm, it’s okay,” he responded, just happy to be in the same place as her again. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” she smiled, setting her work aside and bringing her attention to Aaron.

“Why did you kick me out the other night? After…” His voice trailed off, shifting awkwardly in his seat.

“I figured it be best for you. I didn’t want to wrap you up with my life… with me. But in all honesty, I can’t stop thinking about you. I called you tonight, and told myself if you didn’t show, I’d move on. But… you’re here.”

“I’m here,” he whispered back, his eyes tracing down her body, craving her once again.

“I feel like we have something special, Agent,” she whispered seductively, climbing out of her seat and walking towards him.

“I missed you… I couldn’t stop thinking about you…” he moaned as she bent towards him, her lips kissing down his neck and playing with the collar of his shirt. She unbuttoned the top buttons, kissing his chest and moving her hand to his inner thigh. She trailed her fingers up his thigh, teasing his cock with the slightest touch. His hips bucked uncontrollably, blood flowing down to him as his desire took over his body.

She got down on her knees, toying with his belt buckle. She was clearly trying to make him wait, the suffering and craving all a part of her game. But he was impatient, so he ripped his belt off himself, undoing his pants and pulling his erect penis out.

(Y/N) licked her lips in anticipation, wanting to pleasure him as much as he wanted to be pleasured. She played with his tip slowly, toying her tongue around him as he moved underneath her. He wrapped his fingers in her hair, slowly pushing her mouth down around him. He wanted her to take all of him, to feel the back of her throat as he shoved his length in her mouth. She moaned quietly as she took him, bobbing her head up and down quickly and sloppily.

Aaron couldn’t remember the last time he got a blow job- let alone the last time someone enjoyed giving him one. (Y/N) was toying with him, clearly enjoying the pleasure she was able to give him just with her tongue. She looked up at him as he was about to cum, winking as she dragged her tongue up his shaft. The eye contact sent him over the edge, causing him to release himself in her mouth. She swallowed his cum happily, kissing him on the cheek and sitting back down on her chair.

He wanted to go to her, give her what she needed now. But he was exhausted, the exhilaration of her taking away all of his energy. He took another hefty sip of his drink, leaning back in his chair and wiping the sweat off his forehead. He buckled his pants back up and readjusted himself in the seat.

“Don’t hate me, handsome, but I do have to get some work done. Feel free to sleep on the couch, or watch a movie. I’ll let you know when we get there.” She blew him a kiss, teasing him with a wink before losing herself in her work. He wondered what part of her job she could possibly be doing from the seat of a plane. There was truly so much he didn’t know about her, which made it so much more exciting.

He finished his drink, watching her work in awe as the plane soared over the Atlantic. He felt himself drifting off and didn’t try to stop it, wanting to be fully rested so he could make the most of his time with her.

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Paris was unarguably Aaron’s favorite place on Earth. Whenever he told people that, they always kind of chuckled. It was kind of a feminine city, at least that’s what everyone told him. But god, he loved it here. The food, the architecture, the people… but most importantly, it was her.

She had made every second of his life magical. When they landed, she brought him to a small bakery near the Louvre, where they sipped wine and ate the sweetest fruit he’d ever tasted. It was only 10 AM when they got there, but nobody seemed to pay them any attention as they drunkenly strolled down the Parisian streets, giggling and kissing and living.

When they finally sobered up, they made their way to a gorgeous hotel, where (Y/N) got the nicest suite available. They ordered a few bottles of champagne, popping them open as soon as they got inside and helping themselves to many glasses. They drank out on the balcony, overlooking the whole city as they downed more alcohol.

The suite came equipped with a jacuzzi tub in the bathroom, which (Y/N) was begging him to take advantage of. She stripped down in front of him, lighting candles and drawing a tub of steaming water. She took a bottle of champagne into the bathroom and soaked herself in the tub, lavender scented bubbles surrounding her. Aaron couldn’t resist the temptation of her body, so he quickly followed after her, stripping down and slipping in the bubbles with her.

She sat on his lap, he kissed down the back of her neck and nibbled on her flesh. She moved her butt into him, the softness of her flesh pushing into his cock.

“I told you, sometimes it’s fun to be adventurous.”

“I never doubted that. I just think this is all… crazy…”

“Are you not enjoying yourself?” She giggled, pushing bubbles towards him and splashing around the water.

“Oh do not play games with me,” he laughed, splashing water towards her. She squealed when the water hit her face, scrunching her nose as she wiped the bubbles from her cheeks.

“Let’s go,” she smirked, standing up and carefully stepping out of the bath. Her skin was glistening from the water, bubbles dripping down her flesh. He stared in awe at her, obsessed with every curve, every inch of her more perfect than the last. She walked slowly out of the bathroom, her butt wiggling with every step. She was clearly calling for him, begging for him to follow her wherever she went. And he would. He did.

He ran after her carefully, finding her naked body wrapped in the fluffy comforter of the bed. She smiled when she saw him, sitting up and wrapping her hands around his neck. She brought his face towards her, kissing him slowly, allowing their lips to enjoy every second they had with each other.

Aaron’s hands were gripped on her hips, his naked body grinding into hers. He hadn’t known this feeling for a long time- the feeling of complete and total calm. For the first time in an absurd amount of time, he wasn’t worried. He wasn’t thinking of every terrible thing that was happening around him. He was only thinking about her- the way her lips felt on his, the way her body moved… his whole life had so suddenly become wrapped up in her.

But, the trouble was, nothing good in his life stayed. And it was only a matter of time before the universe took her away, too.

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The rest of their time in Paris went by in a daze. Most of their time they were either drinking or fucking, taking breaks to walk aimlessly around the Louvre and stroll down the Seine. He was heartbroken when he had to go back, but he did miss his son, and was sure the team was falling apart without him. When they landed back in DC, (Y/N) had a car ready to take Aaron home.

He had a good hour before Jack would be back, so he used his time to take a long shower and brew a strong pot of coffee. It was almost 7 at night, but his body was still messed up from the change in time zones, and he knew he wouldn’t get much sleep that night. He was already missing her, checking his phone every five minutes to see if she would whisk him away on another adventure.

But, as he quickly learned, she was the type of person to disappear for a while. Aaron didn’t hear from her for seven full days after Paris. Seven full agonizing days of wondering where she was, who she was with, and most importantly- what she was doing.

Being away from her made it easier for him to realize the reality of their situation. She was a killer; and yeah, maybe she only killed ‘bad’ people, but did that really make it any better? At least, that was the question he was asking himself. Surprisingly, as more time went on, the harder time he had convincing himself she was a villain. Maybe it was because he was falling in love with her, maybe it was because he understood the anger of watching guilty people walk away from things completely unscathed.

They didn’t speak about work once during their time together, although it was clear Aaron had a lot of questions. He couldn’t even begin to comprehend what she could be doing for Strauss and the Director. Who was she killing that they couldn’t get to the normal way? He wanted to know her life, understand the secrets she spent her existence protecting- but it wasn't for him. And maybe that was for the best. The mystery of it all made it… hotter.

So when he finally heard from her, seven full days later, he felt like a kid on Christmas. He recognized the ‘unknown’ number as it popped up on the screen, stepping into his office so he could speak with her privately.

“Hi, Agent,” (Y/N) spoke, her voice singing to him. He loved the way she called him Agent. He loved everything about her.

“I’ve missed you. Where have you been?”

“Oh, working. You know.” He could tell she didn’t want to speak any more about work, so he changed the subject.

“Are you back in DC?”

“For a bit.”

“Can I see you? Let’s get dinner somewhere. Anywhere.”

“I… we probably shouldn’t be out together like that… if we saw anyone we knew… your team…” She spoke her words carefully, not sure how to tell him that their relationship wasn’t exactly approved of. Aaron had never really thought about it, but the reality made him sick. Would he never be able to love her publicly? Hold her hand at the park, take her to eat at his favorite restaurant, introduce her to his friends?

But the adrenaline, the euphoria of being with her- it was worth any negatives. He would eat in the dark with her, hide her in his house, runaway with her…

“Come over to my place, then. We’ll order pizza, watch a movie.”

“Hah,” she giggled, her laugh airy and full of light just as he remembered. Hearing it made him smile. “I can’t remember the last time I ordered pizza and watched movies with a boy…”

“Well, given the circumstances, I have to get creative A.”

“What about Jack?”

“Oh,” Aaron responded, forgetting for a moment that she had yet to meet his son. He didn’t think twice about it, wanting his son to know the woman that was bringing him so much joy. But was it safe? And did she want to know him?

“I don’t want to put you in an awkward situation.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“What is happening between us? Are we just messing around… Is there feelings?” He hated to ask her such a loaded question over the phone, but he needed to know the answer- he had to know if she was just as head over heels as she was.

“Agent, no man I’ve ever ‘messed around’ with has this number.”

Aaron chuckled, the nervousness in his chest subsiding.

“Come over tonight, please,” he begged, craving the way her lips felt on his.

“Okay, I’ll see you tonight, Agent.”

“I’ll see you tonight, A.”

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Aaron didn’t expect just how wonderful (Y/N) would be with Jack. He had never really seen a maternal side to her before, but she was incredible. Jack took a liking to her as well, even falling asleep between the both of them as they watched Finding Nemo. After they were sure he was asleep, Aaron carried his son to his room and put him to bed, (Y/N) following close behind, in awe of the way Aaron cared for his son.

“You want a glass of wine?” Aaron whispered to her, the two of them hand in hand as they walked back to the living room.

“Please!”

He poured the two of them overly generous glasses of Riesling, snuggling up on the couch next to her and kissing her on the forehead. They tried to find a movie for a bit, scrolling through endless channels before giving up.

“Can you stay the night?”

“I wish, but I have to catch an early flight tomorrow,” she frowned, her pout showcasing her perfect lips that he couldn’t get out of his head.

“Where are you going?” As soon as the words left his mouth, he wished he could take them back. Her face turned pale and emotionless as she thought of a response, taking a deep breath and closing her eyes.

“You know I can’t tell you that,” she responded.

“I’m sorry.” He felt uncomfortable, not sure exactly what to say to her. They had never had an awkward silence before, and it made him sick as he waited in the quiet for her to respond.

“I probably should get going,” she finally said, setting her almost empty glass of wine down on the coffee table.

“Oh, c’mon, we just got some time alone…” he pleaded, but he could tell by the look on her face he had already lost her.

“I’m sorry, love. I just have a lot to prepare for this case.”

“I understand. Will I see you soon?”

“I’ll do my best, Agent.”

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California was a popular hot spot for serial killers. It seemed like Aaron and the team were there every other week. This time, San Francisco was the lucky city. He had already been there for two days, stuck on an incredibly weird case, when he got the call.

“Good morning, Agent,” (Y/N) spoke.

“A… it’s good to hear from you.” He was relieved at the sound of her voice, the dark energy of this specific case seeping into him, choking any optimism out of him.

“How are things?”

“I’m working on a tough case, to be honest. It’s taking a lot out of me.”

“Would it be better if I was there?”

“How is that possible?”

“I was… in the area. Set some time aside to stop by.”

“I’m going to be really busy…” he frowned, realizing now how difficult it would be to actually see her.

“Oh, Agent, I sure hope you can make time to see me,” she teased, giggling through the phone, her laugh wrapping him in warmth and shielding him from the darkness of reality for a moment.

“Well, I have to sleep at some point,” he responded, laughing himself.

“Call me when you get back to your hotel. I’ll be waiting.”

Aaron hung the phone up quickly, peeking around the corner of the SFPD office they were currently set up in. Luckily, everyone was too busy to listen in on his personal conversations. He wondered what his team would think if they knew what was going on behind closed doors. Would they still stand around and trust the system they were working so hard to uphold? Because Aaron could barely stomach it.

“Hey, we’ve got a problem,” Derek said, coming around the corner lookingfor his superior.

“What’s going on?”

“C’mon into the conference room. Garcia will explain everything.”

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He didn’t make it back to his hotel for another 12 hours. It was nearing 11 PM by the time he finally closed the door and could be done for the day. Although with his job, he was never really off the clock.

He called (Y/N), pushing aside any exhaustion he had for a moment with her. She was there within twenty minutes, sneaking through the door, giggling and kissing quietly, trying to be secretive. It was risky, extremely risky for them to be together with his team just on the other side of a thin hotel wall. But he couldn’t help himself. A part of him wanted to get caught, be exposed, so they could stop sneaking around. He wanted to love her in front of everyone.

He forgot about the case briefly as he lost himself in her flesh, kissing her soft skin and making love to her - twice. When the exhaustion finally overcame him, he crawled into her arms and let the horrors of his job overcome him.

“It’s a bad one, this case,” he divulged, knowing he shouldn’t be telling her the details, but needed a release. He needed to scream, and she was the only one around to hear.

“What’s going on?”

“Some CEO’s kid has been going all around the country killing teenage girls. Eevrytime the police get close to him, he just runs. Five different cities, and he’s escaped them all. Thirty six bodies that we can find. Probably more. And he’s going to get away, here, too. Garcia found out he sold his house a few days ago and bought one in Miami.”

“Well if you know it’s him, why aren’t you arresting him?” (Y/N) had a confused look on her face, her eyes wide and her lips forming a slight pout as she waited for him to respond.

“We don’t have enough physical evidence. He fits the profile perfectly, and we are able to trace bodies to him in every city he’s lived in. But that’s not good enough for the courts. He’s just going to keep getting away…” Aaron felt his heart pounding, the face of Foyet flashing over and over in his head.

“Sometimes… the system doesn’t help everybody.” She wasn’t looking at him, her eyes darting nervously around the room.

“That’s why people like you exist, right? To serve justice to those who escape it.”

“That’s one way of looking at it.”

Aaron looked at her, her cheeks flushed and her breathing sporadic. They were thinking the same thing, it was only a guessing game on who would break the silence first. He didn’t think it would be here, she was too nervous.

“(Y/N)...” he whispered, placing a hand on hers.

“What are you asking me to do, Agent?” She finally looked up at him, her face flat and emotionless, a side of her she had never shown him before. It was her work face, her business face.

“I want you to do your job, A.”

“Are you sure that’s what you want?”

“It’s the only way to stop him.”

“Okay. I’ll take care of it.” She got up out of the bed and started putting her clothes back on, slowly redressing herself as she prepared to go back to work. She grabbed one of the three phones she carried, hastily dialing a number and putting the old cell to her ear.

“Hey, it’s me. I need the car here ASAP, and the bag... Yeah, it’s a change of plans. … I’ll tell you in the car.” She hung the call up and put the phone back in her bag, refusing the look at Aaron the entire time she was preparing herself.

“You’re doing this now?” He laughed, getting up and trying to stop her from leaving. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her towards him, her body struggling to get away. She felt tense, tired. Her body was no longer surrounded by it’s usual warm glow. She was cold, and dark. She wasn’t her.

“Agent, if this is what you want, I need to handle it my way. Please let me go.”

“Will you… can I see you after?”

“I need to leave the city immediately after it’s done. And it’s best we don't talk for a bit. I can call you when I think things are safe.”

“How long is a bit? I mean, I don’t want to give you up.”

“You can’t have both, Aaron. Either I’m (Y/N) or I’m Ananke. Do you want more girls to die? Or do you want a girlfriend?” She was yelling, her voice a loud and intense version of itself that he was unfamiliar with. It made him dizzy. He sat down clumsily on the bed and put his face in his hands.

“Kill him,” he mumbled. She was quiet for a few seconds, and so was he. And awkward silence. Something they had never had. He felt like she was staring at him, but he couldn’t bring himself to look at her.

“I’ll call you when I can, Agent. It’s been wonderful working with you.”

Aaron swore as she walked out the door he could hear her cry. Maybe he was making it up to make himself feel better. There was no way she could walk away that easily and not … hurt. He hurt, so terribly bad. How long was a bit? A few weeks, months? Would he ever see her again?

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Aaron awoke to a loud banging on his door and his phone buzzing like crazy. The ringer was on, but not loud enough to awaken him from his alcohol assisted slumber. He shouldn’t be drinking on the job, he knew that rule better than anyone. But he had to shut his mind up.

He opened the door to a rattled Derek Morgan, his forehead sweating and hands shaking.

“You are not going to believe this,” Derek said, chuckling slightly.

“What’s going on, Morgan?” Aaron knew what he was going to say, but he had to pretend to be surprised. Would Derek know? He was by far the best profiler on the team. How long could Aaron keep up a lie before Derek figured something out?

“Our unsub died last night. Car accident. He hit a railing and his car just… exploded.” Derek held his tablet out to Hotch, showing him various photos from the scene. His car was completely crushed and torched. You could see his body, but there was absolutely no way to tell what was happening at the time of the accident. The damage of the car was far too elaborate to find any remnants of explosives- if that’s what she used. But whatever she did, it was brilliant. There was no way anyone would think twice about this. She was brilliant.

He could feel himself smiling, being impressed with her work- but he remembered Derek was still standing there, unknowing of the secrets Aaron held.

“Well, I guess we can finally get the hell out of San Francisco,” Aaron laughed.

“You think this is the end? He just dies in a freak accident and it's over? Are we that lucky, Hotch?” Derek’s eyebrows were furrowed in the classic way his face always looked when he was suspicious.

“He’s not around to hurt anyone else, and that’s the end of it. Our jobs are done here. I want wheels up in an hour.”

Derek just nodded in agreement with his supervisor, realizing it wasn’t worth the argument. Aaron was right, the bad guy was gone and that was good enough for him.

Aaron closed the door to his hotel, grabbing his phone and dialing her number. He had assumed she’d already disconnected the line, severing their connection for the time. But it rang, and somebody answered.

“A…?” he whispered, waiting for her voice.

“You shouldn’t be calling this number,” a man responded, a voice he recognized as Jays.

“I know, I know, but please. Please just tell her something for me.” Jay was silent for a moment, deciding what to do.

“... What?” He asked, quietly.

“Please just tell her I said thank you. For everything.”

And then the phone disconnected. The call was over. She was gone. For who knows how long?

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One week later, SSA Aaron Hotchner was sitting in his office when Erin Strauss walked through his door. She didn’t knock, which made him jump. She walked right in and sat down on his couch, taking a deep breath. A disappointed sigh.

“Hello, Erin.”

“Agent Hotcher.” She looked at him angrily, her lips pursed and eyes tight as she thought of her words.

“What can I do for you?”

“In all honesty, Aaron… did you think we wouldn’t find out? You are a federal agent. Your passport is flagged any time you enter a foreign country. You were in Paris at the same time as her. And then San Francisco? She was there on assignment and your uncatchable unsub just happens to turn up dead?”

“Am I fired?” He asked, his only thought on what they were doing to her.

“Aaron… what are you doing? You are losing yourself! If this is about Haley…”

“Just tell me something. What are you going to do to her?” He bit his lip nervously, Erin avoiding his eye contact.

“Right now she’s being relocated, on a six month assignment. We’ll see what happens after that.”

“Where?”

“You know I can’t tell you that!”

Aaron sat for a moment, completely unsure of what to say next. Maybe Erin was right, he had lost himself. He would’ve never imagined himself in this situation.

“What do I do now?”

“You move on. And you do your job, the right way. I’ll cut you some slack this time, Aaron. But if this happens again… there will be consequences. Do you understand?”

“Yes ma’am.”

Erin walked out of his office quietly, closing the door as she left. He waited a moment, a long moment, before pulling out his phone. He had to at least try to talk to her. Even if the number didn’t work. He had to try.

But it rang. And this time he knew it was her who answered.

“Agent.” She answered sharply.

“Where are you?”

“I’m still in DC, as of now.”

“If I asked you to stay, would you?”

“You know it doesn’t work like that. Either I go, or they send me to prison. I’m sorry, Aaron. But this… was destined to fail from the beginning.”

“No, (Y/N). I don’t accept that. I love you.”

“You can’t. I’m sorry, Agent. This is goodbye.”

#vicficwriterchallenge #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #criminal minds #aaron hotchner fanfiction

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ipatrichor · 3 years

Note

YOU HAVE A TWINSDUO SUPERNATURAL AU TOO OH MY GOD tell me about it immediately

i do!! :D mine very loosely follows the events of the show (loosely bc years ago i watched up til like halfway through the fifth season and then absorbed the rest through osmosis) but uhh let me see what i have so far!

(under a cut bc it got pretty long)

okay so techno is the older brother and wilbur is the younger one! wilbur ditched hunting to go to college but then his girlfriend sally died, etc. etc, we all know bits abt the show we know how it goes :’

their dad is a random oc idk because i have a different role for phil and i’m not gonna write him as that shitty of a parent anyway so :’’

anyway the whole psychic kids plotline happens, wilbur has low self-esteem and makes techno promise to kill him if he ever “goes darkside”, et cetera, and then he ends up being murdered and techno makes a demon deal to bring him back that gives them a year before techno gets dragged to hell

obviously when wilbur finds out he is Not Happy but he doesn’t manage to stop it in time, and when techno goes to hell wilbur starts using his powers more with the encouragement of a demon named tommy (unlike in the source material, this is not at all a sexual thing bc Yikes!!- it’s more of an ‘oooh you miss your brother so much you wanna project that onto the first person who treats you like a sibling’ thing :’’)

so after abt a year techno is pulled out of hell by a philza, the castiel of this au :’ the two of them do start to bond and become genuine friends, but part of phil’s orders from heaven are to drive a wedge between twinsduo to kickstart the apocalypse so :/ like he eventually rebels but still

so seals are being broken and stuff, and phil & tommy are following their respective sides’ orders to drive twinsduo apart except both of them are starting to form genuine attachments to the brothers and feel bad abt what they’re doing, especially as they start to bond with the other one (phil & wilbur, tommy & techno)

eventually tommy decides that he cares abt wilbur (who he’s genuinely started to see as a brother) and comes clean abt the whole thing, explaining the whole plot. techno calls phil to confirm it, and he has the choice to say tommy’s lying but he also cares abt this shitty little group and so he tells the truth also

so they plan to stop the apocalypse armed with accurate knowledge this time, but unfortunately it’s kinda too late and lucifer escapes into the world or whatever fuckin happened in the show idk

anyway sometime around now they find out that surprise, they have a half-brother! his name is tubbo and he’s rlly just. kinda there for a bit but once phil explains the vessels and shit, meaning tubbo could technically be used as a backup vessel, they figure that bringing him somewhere safe would be best so the angels don’t get him

anyway this is fine for a while! tubbo is reluctant to trust them but he and tommy get along scarily well so eventually tubbo starts to warm up to the others

so they’re going after the horsemen to steal their rings or whatever,, it’s pog and cool until wilbur gets possessed by lucifer and throws himself (and tubbo, currently possessed by michael) into the cage

in the cage, wilbur feels guilty abt tubbo being there bc he didn’t ask for any of this (to be fair neither did wilbur but. mental illness b like that) and so he takes the brunt of the damage from the Very powerful Very pissed off archangels to protect tubbo

anyway phil pulls him out but he can’t get two people at once, and part of wilbur absolutely refuses to abandon tubbo so his soul stays down in the cage, hooray..? and then a soulless version of him is running around with techno (who is Suspicious). anyway this is how i’m incorporating ghostbur!! by saying that his soul is how he feels pain/turmoil and so without it he is just. way too casual & happy for someone in his situation

eventually they find out that his soul got left behind, and techno asks death (mumza my beloved :D) to retrieve it. she does try, but wilbur once again refuses to leave tubbo, so she just [shrug emoji] and yoinks them both. iconic. phil could never

now tubbo is back and wilbur is back to normal, hooray! except all those traumatic memories are majorly fucking with him, and so mumza creates a wall in his head to block the memories of the cage (this doesn’t apply to tubbo bc wilbur shielded him from most of it, so he’s not having a great time but he can handle the trauma with help whereas wilbur is Not functional)

anyway some shit happens idk i’ve long since migrated to the wikipedia season synopses and phil is working with some demon guy (who. cmon. its gotta be schlatt.) and ends up breaking the wall in wilbur’s head to incapacitate him or something??? also he’s god now apparently how the fuck is this a real show seriously how it’s not a decade-and-a-half fever dream???

oh yeah also bobby is a character! he’s like an uncle or smth i think and i was thinking who could fit that role for twinsduoand then my brain just

grian

also wilbur has apparently been hallucinating this whole time? not events or anything, just like. in general. that’s barely a footnote in the summary but it’s sure a Thing so

uhhh techno and phil Don’t in fact go to purgatory!! the rest of this is batshit insane i’m claiming canon divergence!!

phil uses his God Juice(TM) to smite the leviathins or whatever and then they all go back home and actually talk about their differences jesus christ i watched less than half this show and i remember like half of what i watched but i definitely remember the lack of communication skjgblf

oh but the trials are Spicey and i love them so they still happen! fundy is the prophet and he translates some shit or whatever. wilbur does the first two but then techno finds out finishing all three will be fatal and goes to stop him

we have some big Low Self-Esteem Momence and wilbur finally opens up bc of course it takes mortal danger to get this dumass to be honest about his feelings. anyway techno convinces him to stop and they go home

phil doesn’t get tricked into booting the angels out of heaven or whatever, death shows up to be like ‘hey ur being major lied to my dude’ and also they hit it off and become friends

the trials leave wilbur in Very Bad Shape (like. getting uncomfortably close to dying) but phil is still kinda god so??? he just magics him to get better, no one gets possessed, and NOTHING BAD HAPPENS TO FUNDY :’

jesus this is long skjgb okay we’re almost done i promise :’ so they meet a nephilim who was just born but grew into a teenager like,,, right away lol. that’s right we have ranboo in this au now :D the group immediately adopt him as a little brother and teach him how to be human and nothing bad happens ever again

so at the end phil is god and lowkey crushing on death, techno and wilbur are done with angel nonsense bc phil keeps heaven in line and they go back to doing ordinary ghost hunts, tubbo stays behind to do research but in a mocking way and hangs out with tommy and ranboo who are both learning about humanity and friendship, and the whole group lives in grian’s house while he pretends to be grumpy about it even though he cares them :D

#fuck this is so long #this au my beloved tho #and everything turned out okay!! jkdb #no unhappy endings #thanks for the ask :}#asks #supernatural au #soot 🧭#mutuals

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pact-with-faith · 3 years

Text

How Faith Earned Her Pacts: Mammon

When I think about how things might be different if there were more... Faith-like options? How she gets pacts would end up different in some cases! So I've been picking at drabbles to explore this, and here's Mammon's!

Mammon never thought he’d ever even consider making a pact with a human. He’s the Great Mammon! Second eldest of the Avatars of Sin! One of the strongest demons in the entire Devildom! What need would he have for a lowly human?

And yet… he realizes that he does need her. Just not in the way he expected.

Faith was...a strange human. So different from Solomon. She was more like an angel. So focused on taking care of others and helping them, going out of her way to do so. Obedient, and she seems genuinely scared to get in trouble. Not that Mammon can relate! It makes sense for her to not make a fuss though, since she’s surrounded by demons who are just waiting for a chance to eat her and take her soul.

However, there is one way to make her throw her sense of caution to the wind, and raise hell. Not that Mammon knew, at first.

He only realized it when he happened to hear the human talking to Satan, the two in the kitchen, working together on who knows what. Mammon only peeked in long enough to see who was there, and make sure she was safe. He didn’t want Lucifer going for his head if she got hurt, after all. Though he didn’t announce his presence either, because he heard his name, and didn’t want to interrupt the conversation. Surely they were singing his praises!

“...glad to see that Mammon hasn’t been too terrible of an influence.” Satan was saying, chuckling at the end. Asshole.

Mammon heard the human let out a huff, putting down a glass she’d been holding. “You’re all too mean to him.”

Damn straight! But… is she actually defending him? Or just playing into some grander joke?

Satan’s amusement did subside some. “Hardly. He’s a moron, and comes up with the stupidest schemes that hardly ever work out. He makes a fool of himself regularly, and never learns his lesson.” He argued matter of factly, his tone carefully even. No sign of him getting angry yet.

His brother’s words stung, even if he’s heard it a million times. Sure, he tends to act the fool, but… he’s not that stupid. He’d never admit it, (Pride may not be his primary sin, but hell if he doesn’t try to preserve it) but it tears him up that his brothers genuinely think so little of him. And if it’s all some joke, they do a terrible job at showing it.

He honestly expected the human to drop the subject there. She had a habit of avoiding conflict, especially with his brothers. Not that he blames her, they could snap her like a twig if they felt so inclined. And were willing to face Lucifer’s wrath.

“He’s not as stupid as you think,” the human countered, glancing at the blond out of the corner of her eye before fidgeting with her glass, anxiously tapping her nails against it, a habit of hers that Mammon had noticed early on in her stay. She likes the sound. “He may not be the most tactful at times, he may be at the ready with insults, but… he’s not that bad. He’s actually been a huge help, doesn’t seem to really judge me if I get lost at RAD. He actually keeps an eye out for me, and I don’t know if he does it intentionally or not, but his interruptions when I’m doing homework are always perfectly timed, he shows up when I’m getting too frustrated to make any progress, and drags me off to do whatever, and when I get back to work I’ve got fresh eyes.”

There was a heavy silence in the room, and Mammon was so tempted to go in finally, not daring to peek in to see if Satan was getting worked up or not. Knowing that he’d been eavesdropping would make him pissed, whether he was originally or not.

It felt like an eternity before anyone said anything, the silence so thick that Mammon could faintly hear the human’s… Faith’s… heart pounding in her chest.

“I see…” Satan said slowly, clearly trying to choose his words carefully. Why was he being so cautious? It’s not like Faith posed any threat, especially to the Avatar of Wrath. “Even with all of that in mind, it doesn’t change the fact he’s greedy, and stupid to keep stealing from all of us to sell things.” He tried, though Mammon noted a hint of curiosity in his younger brother’s voice. The hell?

There was another pregnant pause, and the shift of fabric as Faith turned to Satan, an eyebrow quirked. “You’re calling him out… for being greedy?” She asked. When Satan gave a nod, curious where this was going, she asked the question again. “You are upset… that Mammon… Avatar of Greed… is greedy?”

The absurdity wasn’t lost on either demon, Satan opting for silence. But by the furrow of his brow, Faith knew she’d have to tread lightly.

She turned back to the counter, picking up her glass and drinking some of the water from it. “I may not know much about how this whole Avatar thing works, or demons, or anything like that…” She started. “But it just… doesn’t make sense to me. Punishing someone for something that they can’t control. Sure, you guys get frustrated with each other when your sins get the better of you. Asmodeus’ constant flirting and innuendo, Beel’s never ending hunger, and so on.” Clearly avoiding any mention of Satan’s Wrath or Lucifer’s Pride. “But you never seem to go at each other half as bad as you do Mammon… and it’s not the fact that his greed is affecting everyone. Beel’s hunger wiping out the kitchen of food affects everyone too.” She added, before Satan could even try to argue that.

With a sigh, she finished off what was in her glass and washed it, her hands shaking lightly. She was too hesitant to face Satan, who clearly hadn’t been expecting such a genuine argument in defense of his older brother. And Mammon hadn’t either. Damn if she wasn’t observant. His first thought was how he could try to take advantage of that for any number of schemes he had cooking, but he dismissed the thought as quickly as it came… it wouldn’t be fair to take advantage of her like that when she’s putting herself at risk to defend him from his own family.

“Why are you defending him so much?” Satan asked, leaning against the counter and crossing his arms as he watched Faith closely. This was clearly intriguing him, though he almost radiated the aura of a cat playing with it’s prey…

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard him refer to you by name. Always ‘human’, typically accompanied by some semblance of an adjective to put you below him. Stupid, puny, et cetera.” Satan tried.

“Well… he isn’t wrong.” Faith shrugged, drying her hands slowly. “I am, in fact, a human,” she started with a small snort as she gestured to herself. “I’m not always the brightest crayon in the box, and typically when he’s calling me out for it I deserve it. And I am shorter than all of you. I’m just a human, one without any magic for that matter. So technically, I am below everyone else in the Devildom, even the Angels and Solomon. So his behavior is technically warranted.”

“The fact that you think it’s right makes it okay?” He questioned, shaking his head.

“It’s more okay than the rest of you insulting him inaccurately.” Faith said, immediately flinching as she realized what she said, even moving a hand towards her mouth as if to cover it.

Oh well, she’s already started digging, why not keep going so she at least gets her point out there before she dies? So with a sigh, she moved her hand to rub at her collar bone anxiously, not daring to look Satan in the eye, focusing instead on the floor.

“Everything you pointed out that he says to me, it’s things you’ve said to him. Stupid, moron, idiotic, useless, pathetic… For all I know, he’s just mimicking what you’ve been saying to him for who knows how long.”

Mammon figured this was as good a time as any to finally make himself known, to keep Faith from actually getting herself killed. Satan doesn’t have the same concern about pissing off Lucifer that the rest of the brothers do. He walked away a few paces, and came back towards the kitchen door with heavy steps to announce himself, knocking on the door frame with his other hand on his hip. “Oi, human!” He called to get her attention. Though… perhaps he really should get better about calling her by name.

Faith looked over quickly when he came in, clearly a bit startled by the sudden noise. But she just let out a sheepish giggle, giving him a grin and a small wave. “Hey Mammon! What’s up?”

“Weren’t ya just whining the whole walk back from RAD that you had a ton of homework to do?”

Faith groaned in complaint, even tilting her head back to emphasize the action, but started over to him to head up to her room. “Shit, yeah… thanks for the reminder.” She pouted, though he was well aware it was a pout at having work to do, not that he reminded her. “Where would I be without you?” She asked him, her tone playful.

“Probably either eaten by a lesser demon within your first few hours down here, or under the watch of one of the others. Probably Asmo.” He mused, ruffling her hair as a makeshift noogie, grinning at the giggles that got.

Faith just snorted and rolled her eyes, but paused in the doorway, turning back to Satan and giving him a sheepish smile. “Just… please, think about what I said.”

Satan gave a small nod, watching the duo head off.

“What was that all about?” Mammon asked, an eyebrow quirked as he stared down at her, his hands in his pockets. He was curious if she’d tell the truth or if she’d try to deflect.

Apparently it was deflect, as Faith reached up and tightened her ponytail some, adjusting the bow. “Just some talking about interacting with demons and stuff like that.”

So she wasn’t going to tell him what she actually did… not trying to get brownie points with him, huh? She sure was a strange one…

Deciding to move on from that whole conversation, he tilted his head a bit. “What’ve you gotta study right now that’s so important anyways?”

“The history and methods of making pacts.” Faith answered after a moment of hard concentration. She’d just been learning about it in class not a few hours ago and she was already struggling to remember what she’d spent over an hour hearing about. He could absolutely relate to that. No wonder she understood him so well.

But pacts, huh…?

Maybe it’s about time he considered one himself. Because people like Faith don’t come around every day… he’s already gotta protect her anyways, and clearly she’s willing to do the same. A pact just seems like the next logical step.

He can trust that she won’t abuse it.

#text post #fic #obey me #obey me!#mammon #faith #mc #my mc #my writing #obey me mc #obey me oc #how faith earned her pacts

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luvrpop · 4 years

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the end

source: the devil all the time part: one/? pairing: arvin russell/reader requested: no tws: n/a (canon typical in later parts but this ones safe) word count: 1652 synopsis: you make some bread, and contemplate finality. extra: i wanted to challenge myself to write a reader insert without using y/n et cetera!! im so excited for this, and very proud :) Someone once told you that there is nothing in life that isn’t a beginning or an end. You’re not quite sure what you think about that, but you figure there must be some sense of truth to it. Hell, you reckon that if those words are true every damn thing you do is the beginning of the rest of your life. This train of thought will come back to you later.

For now, you wake up in the morning to begin your day, and eventually you’ll sleep at night to end it.

You open your dresser to begin looking for your outfit, and close the dresser to end that search. Naturally, you’ll put on your clothes to begin wearing them, and take them off at some point to end that.

You open the window in your kitchen to begin a steady flow of fresh air, but you won’t get a chance to close, and thus end, it.

Later, all the beginnings you started and endings you caused in the coming few days will become viscerally apparent to you. You’ll wonder which one is more important; those beginnings or endings? You’ll wonder if that matters at all. It probably doesn’t.

Currently, you are kneading the dough that you began only 15 minutes ago for a loaf of bread that you’ll never get to eat. Your radio plays quietly in the corner of the kitchen and you sing along, finding a rhythm in your movement. You feel as though you could live in this moment for the rest of your life and stay happy the whole time. But of course, the song ends so another can begin and your timer goes off to tell you’ve kneaded enough, and the tranquility of the moment slowly dissipates. You wet a towel and delicately place it on top of the lump of dough, and set it into a bowl and aside to begin it’s second hour of rising. That means that you have an hour to yourself, and you resign yourself to laundry. It gets boring pretty quickly, however, so you resolve to finish this load and continue a book you started reading last week.

You’re only a few chapters from the end. You like it well enough- the characters are charming and the plot is compelling- but the pacing of it all is what’s really losing you. It started as a decent slow burn character study into the mind of a troubled woman that tragedy followed like a shy dog, which you find interesting. However, at some point it seemed like the author was as swept up in the world as you were and was caught off guard by the need for an ending. The past few chapters have been a rushed attempt at a satisfying conclusion, and the original message of the story has been lost. The woman started out as thoughtful and resilient, despite the shit life kept throwing at her. You like her a lot. At this point in the book, though, things should be calming down. They aren’t.

You pick up the book where you left off, and immediately it seems to be trending in an unnecessarily painful direction. You wouldn’t dare tell anyone, but you definitely prefer a happy ending. The appeal in watching decent people suffer for nothing is lost on you. It makes it difficult to ignore the more uncomfortable truths of the town you live in.

By the time you’ve gotten to the last chapter, your timer is going off again, letting you know that it’s time to move your dough from under the towel and in the bowl to the oven. You leave the book open on the counter (it stays, because you accidentally broke the spine when you first bought the book. Your best friend chided you for getting as upset as you did. “There are bigger things in life to worry about than a 50¢ paperback novel, darlin’.” He had said.) and stand to wash your hands. The front door opens and closes as you turn on the water, and you call out a greeting to your father. There is no reply while you move the dough to a pan, and you wait a moment before calling out again. This time you get an answer, though the voice that responds is not your father. A smile creeps its way onto your face as you slide the pan into the oven and close the door.

Something you’ve noticed about Arvin Russel is the way he refers to the people. It’s never “good afternoon,” or “thank you,” or “how are ya?”; it’s always a “good afternoon miss,” or “thank you ma’am,” or “how are ya, sir”. He calls his sister Lenora little lady or hun; his grandmother is grandma or ma’am; his grandfather is grandpa or sir. Friends are bud and fella, and enemies are any number of vile swears and adjectives. You’re doll or darlin’, and you have been since you found him hiding behind the school back on the first day of sixth grade. It’s common down here in the south to call people anything but their name whether it be from respect or the opposite, but even as a child Arvin seemed to actively avoid using someone’s name unless he was saying something that he needed you to know he meant. Most people figured he was just some overly respectful kid, but you’ve always suspected that he just understands the power of his words. As you got older, you got the sense to wonder why a kid so young seemed to know so much about power and violence, both mental and physical. You’ve heard the rumors about why he moved to Coal Creek in the first place, but it never came to you to just ask if they were true and what living in Knockemstiff was like. You never considered it your business.

That’s all to say that when Arvin Russel greets you by name in your kitchen at 3:30 PM on a Saturday in the fine year of 1965, your hand stops on its way to the kitchen timer. A quick glance at the clock confirms that Arvin has work in 10 minutes, and you know that you live a solid 15 away from where he needs to be. You turn to face him, apprehensively studying the way he sits on a stool on the opposite side of the island that divides the room. He sits with a slump that shows an extent of exhaustion that seems deeper than the physical body. You wonder if someone’s soul could yawn. He seems like he hasn’t been able to relax all day, and even now there’s tension in his shoulders. Not to mention that his breathing’s uneven and he’s sweating like a sinner in church, so you decide to dampen a washcloth before asking any questions. He looks at you in such a way while you dab at his damp brow that chips away at your heart. He’s looked haunted since you met him, like Satan himself is dancing in his peripheral, always 3 steps away from finally claiming his soul, and you wonder for a moment if he’s always fought the devil all the time.

“Christ almighty Arvin, what happened t’you?” You ask, blotting away at his forehead.

His eyes snap into focus at that, like he’s remembering something, and he pushes out of his seat, snatching the cloth from your hand. “We gotta leave, doll,”

You look at him incredulously. “What in the world? You sit yourself back down and tell me what is goin-”

Arvin interrupts you by saying your name again. “I mean it,” he says, and you believe him. “You got- you got to get on packin’ and we gotta leave.”

“I’m not packin’ anything until you tell me what the hell is goin’ on, Arvin Russel. I mean it.” You say, and he believes you.

Unfortunately, you’ll come to understand that he doesn’t have the time to explain.

The two of you have fantasized about skipping town more times than you could count. A couple of times, you even packed your bags into the back of Arvin’s jalopy before school, planning on picking up Lenora and never looking back at this shithole. You were serious about it too, your father and whatever spends its time haunting Arvin giving you more than enough motivation. Still, you stayed. Arvin would say he’d miss his grandmother, which was true, but you both knew it wasn't what Lenora would want. After she died, Arvin swore he should have said damn it all and left anyway.

When he makes eye contact with you again, you know whatever is happening now is different than your idealized life on the run. Every time you planned this, you both swore you’d do it all together, and that included choosing the right time. Arvin was so particular about choosing the right time. Now, it seems that whatever he did that you two are running from didn’t have a right time. It just had to happen, and he was tired of waiting. A sense of dread nags at you perversely, and you know suddenly and without a doubt that if you don’t go with him now, you’ll never see him again.

He drops the rag then and leaves the kitchen with a sense of urgency you’ve never seen, and you tear after him. You meet him in your room and you both throw together two bags of your bare essentials. You’re out the door and shoving the bags into his trunk before you even get a chance to turn off the oven.

It won’t be until you’re leaning your head on the passenger window of Arvin’s automobile, speeding past the sign that cheerily reads You are now leaving Coal Creek! We hope to see you again soon!, that you will realize that you forgot your book at home.

#i am SO proud of this #modmori #the devil all the time #tdatt #the devil all the time fanfiction #tdatt fanfiction #arvin russell #arvin russell x reader #arvin russel x reader #arvin russel #arvin russel x y/n #arvin russel x you #the end #lenora laferty #lenora laferty mention

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tiramisiyu · 4 years

Text

【未定事件簿】Tears of Themis: Main Story 6-13 Translation

Translation Masterlist | Video

Chapter 6 – Tiger’s Accomplice Ghost (Parts 1, 2): 6-1 / 6-3 / 6-5 / 6-7 / 6-9 / 6-11 / 6-13 / 6-15 ♦️ ♦️ 6-16 / 6-18 / 6-20 / 6-22 / 6-24 / 6-26 / 6-27 / 6-28 / 6-29

Fu Qiao’s House

Tuesday night 8:00PM, we arrived at Fu Qiao’s house. Fu Qiao and Zhou Nan co-rented a place, so it sounded like they were somewhat richer than other university students, but the area of the place they lived in was actually very small.

MC: This house is just about 30 square meters, right.

On the left of the entrance was the washroom, and on the right, there was a very simple kitchen. There was a washing machine right under the induction stove. Deeper inside, there was a bed and book table. You could see everything in one look – the room was small enough that there wasn’t space for excess seating.

Fu Qiao: More or less. Rent in the middle of the city is expensive, and we can’t afford any larger.

Zuo Ran: Campus housing has cheap rent. You and Zhou Nan were both students, so why not rent a place there?

Fu Qiao: Nannan… didn’t go to school often. She spent more time going to the bar.

Fu Qiao: The transit here is convenient. You can take the subway to directly get to the bar or school.

MC: How many transit lines do you have to take to get from here to Xunye?

Fu Qiao: You take Line 7 to Changzhou Station, then switch to Line 3 to Jinyang Street to get there.

Zuo Ran: Isn’t it alright to take Line 7 straight to the bar? Having to switch rides must be troublesome.

Fu Qiao: Xunye Bar is on the other side of the road. If you get off the stop on the bar’s street, you’ll have to walk quite a distance over. Taking Jinyang Street is relatively closer.

Fu Qiao: From C exit, Xunye is a few steps east.

>Fu Qiao is lying!

MC: (Fu Qiao is lying. If he never knew where Xunye was, then how could he be so familiar with switching rides on the subway to get there!)

I pretended to casually shoot Zuo Ran a glance, and our eyes met. It was obvious that we were thinking the same thing.

MC: After Zhou Nan’s accident, you didn’t move back to live around on campus? You can save on costs like this.

Fu Qiao: No. I’m already in my fourth year of university, and I’m mostly focusing on internships and looking for work, so I don’t really go back to school.

Fu Qiao: Plus, we rented this place early on – we rented in first year. Rent was cheap back then, and it hasn’t risen these past few years.

Fu Qiao: It’s now really hard to find a place nearby at this price, so I didn’t back out of renting this place for future work convenience.

MC: That’s true. Real estate prices have grown fast in these past few years.

Fu Qiao: Ah, look at me, I forgot that I don’t have extra chairs at home, letting you two stand while talking.

Fu Qiao: In the past when Nannan and I were at home, it would always be one person sitting on the bed while the other sat on the chair. If we placed more around, they wouldn’t see any use.

Fu Qiao: Please wait for a bit, I’ll go borrow some from a neighbour.

Zuo Ran: Thank you for your trouble.

As Fu Qiao was gone, Zuo Ran and I could take this opportunity to observe if there were any clues in Fu Qiao’s house.

MC: Lawyer Zuo, have you noticed where things aren’t quite right in this house?

Zuo Ran: Mm, there are several places.

>Select: Closet

MC: Lawyer Zuo, look at that transparent closet.

The doors of the closet in Fu Qiao’s place were transparent – it could be considered as a sort of simplistic, industrial style.

MC: It seems like it’s all male clothing in there. I don’t see any female clothing in there at all.

Zuo Ran: There are few clothes hung in there – it’s clear that there’s still lots of space.

Zuo Ran: But we can’t exclude the possibility that Fu Qiao placed Zhou Nan’s items in a box to keep them.

Zuo Ran: Look at the bottom shelf – there are storage boxes.

MC: But based on my experience in putting away clothes, storage boxes typically contain clothes for other seasons.

MC: The weather’s not cold these days, and the clothes Fu Qiao hung are all unlayered clothes…

MC: Thick clothes like down clothing are probably inside the storage boxes.

Zuo Ran: If we consider that, there are only two storage boxes, so there isn’t space to put Zhou Nan’s clothes.

Zuo Ran: Because even if they were compressed, with the addition of winter bed linings, he would only be able to stuff it inside the closet.

MC: The topmost shelf of the closet is also empty…

MC: Is it possible that Fu Qiao threw away Zhou Nan’s clothes?

MC: But didn’t Zhao Fei say that they were all left for Fu Qiao as mementos? Since they’re mementos, why would he throw them?

This was very contradictory – I had somewhat of a hard time figuring it out.

Zuo Ran: We’ll indirectly ask him later.

>Select: Closet (2)

MC: This kind of simplistic, industrial-style closet seems to be really popular these days – it’s fashionable.

Zuo Ran: I favour wooden furniture more – they have more of a sense of reality, and they look stable.

Zuo Ran: What about you?

MC: For me…

MC: Seems like there’s nothing I prefer in particular – fashionable or retro, I’m fine with it all.

Zuo Ran: Is that so… I understand.

>Select: Bookshelf

Zuo Ran: “Basic Applications of Chemistry”, “Calculus”…

Zuo Ran: They should be Fu Qiao’s books.

MC: There isn’t a single book on photography, and there aren’t any pictures in the room like at Zhao Fei’s house…

MC: Even if Zhou Nan didn’t like studying, didn’t go to classes, and didn’t get teaching materials, she should still have photography equipment.

MC: She even went to a bar to work for photography, so she probably truly liked it.

Zuo Ran: There also isn’t any photography equipment in anywhere visible…

Zuo Ran: Photography equipment are expensive items, and they must have been things that Zhou Nan valued, so where could they be kept…?

>Select: Bookshelf (2)

MC: Lawyer Zuo, you have a lot of collected books in your house, right – are they all law-related books?

Zuo Ran: Half of the second floor at my house is a movies and music room, and half is book room – the books I’ve collected could be considered to be many.

Zuo Ran: Aside from law, there are also movies, philosophy, science fiction, and some original German books.

MC: If there’s a chance, could I borrow some to read?

Zuo Ran: Of course. You’re welcome anytime.

>Select: Dresser

MC: A guy’s dresser sure is simple…

Zuo Ran: Will a lady have many things on her dresser?

Zuo Ran: Things like skincare products and jewelry?

MC: That’s right! Aside from the skincare products everyone knows about, I’ve even got several kinds of combs.

MC: Such as hairbrushes, toothed combs, round brushes, bristle brushes, et cetera…

Zuo Ran: Is it to deal with different hairstyles?

MC: Of course.

MC: But the toughest part of every day is seeing all the hair that I’ll never be able to fully clear off from the combs…

Just as I’d spoken, I heard Zuo Ran laugh quietly.

MC: If I already got the high-level lawyer qualification, I probably wouldn’t be troubled by this.

Zuo Ran: No, you’ve misunderstood, I didn’t intend to laugh at you.

Zuo Ran: I just feel like you… are very lively like this.

MC: Eh?

Zuo Ran: I don’t see you like this often.

MC: …

Zuo Ran: I’ve learned it from you now. When I go home, I’ll research the different types of combs – usually, I really don’t use this many.

MC: But, Lawyer Zuo, what are you studying up on this for…

Smiling, Zuo Ran shook his head without replying to me.

>Select: Dresser (2)

Zuo Ran: Most of the things on the dresser are things that males use. There is no indication that a woman lived here.

MC: (Where did Fu Qiao store Zhou Nan’s things?)

>Select: Bed

Zuo Ran: There is only one pillow on the bed, and the bedsheets are also the dark-coloured style preferred by men…

MC: Yeah. Typically, though the fabrics on often get washed, it’s rare for them to be thrown away, unless if they’re damaged.

MC: For the blankets, quilts, and so on that I’ve bought, I’ll use them for several years.

MC: This is even more so for pillows – I’m reluctant to switch them out after getting used to them…

MC: But Fu Qiao… though it’s a two-person bed, it’s obvious that only one person used the fabrics on the bed.

MC: And it’s the kind that guys prefer…

Zuo Ran: After Zhou Nan’s death, he threw all the things they originally had, and changed to a new set.

Zuo Ran: We can’t exclude this possibility.

MC: Anyway, if it were me, I probably wouldn’t buy fabrics of this style.

MC: Looking at Fu Qiao’s house furnishings, it looks just like he’s completely erased all the indications of Zhou Nan living here.

Zuo Ran: Someone who loved deeply, who couldn’t retain in time the indications of his partner’s life after she passed…

Zuo Ran: He must be hiding something if he’s cleared everything out so cleanly.

Fu Qiao was taking a bit of a long time borrowing chairs, so Zuo Ran and I waited for quite a while before he came back.

Fu Qiao: My apologies, the neighbours around all get off work late, so most of them aren’t home.

MC: No need to worry, we were the ones to trouble you.

Fu Qiao: You can’t say that…

Fu Qiao: After Nannan passed, very few people still thought of her. Thank you for worrying and running around for her.

Zuo Ran: We were also entrusted to this by someone.

Fu Qiao: Uh, was it Nannan’s big brother? I’ve seen him a few times, though we’re not very familiar.

Fu Qiao: As for Nannan’s mother… she’s already emigrated to another country with her new family. After Nannan died, she only gave a call.

MC: …

Fu Qiao: You two said before that Nannan was murdered, so you mean… she didn’t use illegal drugs herself?

Zuo Ran: Yes, we suspect that Zhou Nan was deliberately murdered, so we wanted to get an understanding of the situation from you.

Zuo Ran: You should be the person who is the most familiar with her in this world.

Fu Qiao: How could that be… how could she have been murdered…

MC: Mr. Fu, do you mean that it’s not possible for someone to have murdered Zhou Nan?

Fu Qiao: Though Nannan worked as a bar waitress, which is kind of… you know, but she probably never started a feud with anyone.

>He didn’t approve of Zhou Nan!

MC: (With Fu Qiao’s tone, it’s clear that he doesn’t approve of bar waitressing!)

Fu Qiao: Ugh, I don’t know where to start, so ask as you please.

INTERROGATION START

Relations with Zhou Nan

MC: Mr. Fu, we just saw you burn the paper cranes – the relationship between you and Zhou Nan must have been excellent.

Fu Qiao: Mhmm, Nannan was my first love, as well as the only person I’ve ever liked up to now.

Fu Qiao: If not for Nannan’s incident, I had already prepared to marry her after graduating from fourth year, which would be next year.

Zuo Ran: Mr. Fu, I presume you aren’t a native to Stellis City and did not attend the same school as Zhou Nan. How did you two meet?

Fu Qiao: I’m not a Stellis City citizen – my family lives outside of the city.

Fu Qiao: I don’t really like to interact with people in real life. Instead, I chat with friends online more.

Fu Qiao: Nannan and I met online. I first liked the scenic pictures she took, then got to know her.

MC: Scenic pictures? Were they posted on social media?

Fu Qiao: Yes. We were both in high school back then, and there was lots of pressure to study, so I liked to look at her pictures to relive pressure.

Fu Qiao: During then, I vaguely felt like I liked Nannan, and I wrote in the Gaokao* that I aspired to go to Stellis City.

Fu Qiao: After we met offline when first year started, we officially started dating.

Zuo Ran: Looks like Zhou Nan’s photography skills are excellent.

Fu Qiao: Mhmm. To me, the pictures she took were the most beautiful.

TL Note:

*Gaokao are China’s standardized tests for university admissions.

Locations of Zhou Nan’s Works

MC: Have you still kept Zhou Nan’s works?

MC: I don’t seem to see any in your house.

Fu Qiao: About this…

Fu Qiao: I… I burned all the photos…

MC: Burned them? Why?

Fu Qiao: Missing someone after seeing related things will only make me sadder.

Fu Qiao: Not just her works – I either donated all her things or burned them.

Fu Qiao: I feel like I won’t be able to walk free all my life if I leave those things at home.

Talisman

MC: If I may be so bold, is the thing on your neck… an talisman?

MC: If you keep it so close on you, was it something left by Zhou Nan?

Fu Qiao: Ah, this…

Fu Qiao: This is an talisman, but it wasn’t left by Nannan. It’s a symbol of peace that I prayed for at Yunxia Temple.

Zuo Ran: Could you take it out for a look? I’m just purely curious.

Zuo Ran: I’ve always wanted to go to Yunxia Temple to pray for one, but work is too busy, and I never have time.

Fu Qiao clutched at his collar, looking somewhat agitated.

Fu Qiao: Sorry, the master said that it’s best to not show it to anyone aside from family – otherwise, it won’t work.

Zuo Ran: I’m sorry, I acted impolitely.

The moment Fu Qiao put down his hand, I noticed that the bottom of his index finger seemed to be a bit thinner than the upper part…

MC: (Is this… the mark left by a ring?)

MC: (If one wears a ring for a long time without taking it off, day or night, then it’ll leave this kind of mark.)

MC: (A lot of people who wear wedding rings are like this.)

MC: (Ring…)

Bar Waitressing

Zuo Ran: A hobby like photography is very costly – after all, the equipment is very expensive.

Zuo Ran: Was Zhou Nan’s financial situation alright? Did she have any financial conflicts with anyone?

Fu Qiao: Nannan’s costs were indeed large, but she was a girl that strove for self-improvement and always relied on herself to work for money. She never took on any loans.

Fu Qiao: If she didn’t have to deal with these costs, she wouldn’t have worked as a bar waitress.

MC: Mr. Fu… you must not have been willing for Zhou Nan to be a bar waitress?

Fu Qiao: Of course I wasn’t willing. This job is both tough and dangerous. Aside from drinking every day and damaging her body, those guests…

As he spoke, Fu Qiao clenched his fist.

Fu Qiao: Those guests became handsy with her quite a few times.

Fu Qiao: Though Nannan wouldn’t stay out for the night, but…

Zuo Ran: When did you find out that Zhou Nan was a bar waitress?

Zuo Ran: You considered Zhou Nan’s convenience of transit when you first rented the house, so she must have worked as a bar waitress for a while.

Fu Qiao: At the beginning, I only knew that she worked in the north area. I didn’t know she was a bar waitress.

Fu Qiao: After, she told me that she worked at Xunye, and only said that she was a singer.

Fu Qiao: Nannan’s singing was very good.

Fu Qiao never directly answered the question “When did he find out about Zhou Nan being a bar waitress”. But based on how Fu Qiao described this job, he didn’t seem like he only knew of Zhou Nan bar waitressing after her death – instead, it was like he went to get an understanding of it beforehand.

He didn’t tell the truth, and Zuo Ran and I didn’t persist in these questions, to avoid raising his alert accidentally.

Interpersonal Relationships

MC: Theoretically, if Zhou Nan was murdered by someone, can you think of any suspects?

Fu Qiao: Uh… as of now, I can’t come up with anything.

Fu Qiao: Aside from exams at the end of term, Nannan very rarely went to school. Most of her friends were ones she knew from the bar.

Fu Qiao: If I really had to say, I think that the bar guests are more probable.

Fu Qiao: Those people weren’t good people to begin with, and they could have gotten in contact with illegal drugs.

Zuo Ran: But what reason would they have to murder Zhou Nan?

Fu Qiao: Maybe it was love-related jealousy?

Fu Qiao: They’re too far away from my life, so I don’t really know much about it.

Proof He Wasn’t on the Scene

MC: What were you doing on the night of Zhou Nan’s incident?

To avoid making this question seem too offensive, I added a question to it.

MC: When did the police contact you about Zhou Nan’s incident?

Fu Qiao: That night, I was doing experiments at school. Because I was very tired, I headed straight home after the experiment finished.

Fu Qiao: When the police contacted me, it was early morning. I was asleep, and didn’t get to pick up.

Fu Qiao: I only knew of Nannan’s incident after waking at 8AM and looking at my phone.

MC: Didn’t you say that Zhou Nan has never stayed out for the night? Didn’t you get in touch with her when she didn’t get back at night?

Fu Qiao: …

A flash of panic passed over Fu Qiao’s face, and he recovered his calm very quickly.

Fu Qiao: She had keys. If she got back late, she would open the door herself.

Fu Qiao: I originally thought that she would return at 2-3-o’clock – this was also a frequent occurrence.

MC: Is that so…

MC: Did you usually pick her up after she got off work?

Partners will typically do this, right?

Fu Qiao: I’ve brought it up before, but it’s too far to go back and forth. As a non-local, I’m not familiar with the north area, and the public safety there is bad, so Nannan didn’t let me go.

Fu Qiao: She said that she had a friend that lived near us. If she couldn’t make it to the last train, then she’d come back with her friend.

MC: If so… you’ve never gone to Xunye Bar?

Fu Qiao: I’ve never gone. I’ve also only heard Nannan casually bring up Xunye’s address.

Chen Hanzhang

MC: Mr. Fu, do you know this person?

I handed Chen Hanzhang’s photo to Fu Qiao. He just hastily swept his gaze over it.

Fu Qiao: I don’t know her. Who is she?

Zuo Ran: She’s called Chen Hanzhang. She went to Xunye that night, and she is also suspected of illegal drug trafficking.

Fu Qiao: Do you suspect that it was her who killed Nannan?

Zuo Ran: We only suspect her. We have no evidence, and we also can’t find a motive for her to kill Zhou Nan.

Fu Qiao: She doesn’t look like a good person, but I’ve never met her.

Fu Qiao kept his head lowered the whole time he was speaking, and he never looked at Chen Hanzhang’s photo again.

Zuo Ran: …

Drug History

MC: Do you know about how Zhou Nan has history with drugs?

Fu Qiao: Mhmm, I know about it. But it was very slight, and she went on withdrawal a long time ago.

Zuo Ran: After this matter, didn’t you try to convince Zhou Nan to change jobs?

Fu Qiao: I did… but her income would decrease if she changed jobs, and she wouldn’t be able to make enough.

Fu Qiao: It was me that was useless – I couldn’t help her split the responsibility…

INTERROGATION END

After flipping through the analysis record I made before, it seemed like we’d basically asked Fu Qiao all that we needed to ask.

MC: Mr. Fu, we’ve troubled you today…

MC: Eh? Mr. Fu, you grow out your nails? I believe that it’s rare for guys to grow out their nails.

Both of Fu Qiao’s pinky nails had been grown out. The other fingers all had their nails cut neatly.

Fu Qiao: Oh, for convenience.

Fu Qiao: Either for experiments or for daily life, there are always places to use one’s nails.

Fu Qiao: It’s not quite the same as when women grow out their nails.

MC: That’s true.

Fu Qiao: That… if there are new developments about Nannan’s cause of death, could you let me know?

MC: Sure. Then we’ll bid farewell.

#tears of themis translations #tears of themis #未定事件簿 #weiding shijian bu #zuo ran #tot translation

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choicesenthusiast · 5 years

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The Royal Masquerade, Ch. 17 AKA What Was It All For?

What happened this week:

In a flashback scene, it’s revealed that you knew about the assassination attempt, and created a plan for protection. A chase ensues until you, Renza, the assassin, and your LI confront each other on the balcony. Renza falls to her death.

A week later, Damon has created an uprising spreading lies about the whole Conclave situation, and Cordonia is on the verge of a civil war. Is this a logical storyline to include in this book? Sure. Is it appropriate to introduce it in the last chapter? No!

The only solution is to introduce Fabian, the last remaining blood relative of Kendra, and either marry him or completely give up your crown so he can enforce peace. Unfortunately, Fabian has Liam from TRR’s face, and as I’ve already had him for 6 books, I’d rather not marry him. Besides. The two LIs we have are great.

Introduce Fabian to Elise in a diamond scene, but why, when you know that 30 diamond scene is coming? Anyways either path you pick works and Damon stands down.

Speaking of, that long-awaited 30 diamond scene is finally here, and to make up for the lack of explanation about magic, you get magic sex toys. Anyways, it’s worth it, I guess.

A super brief and lackluster epilogue about the fates of everyone else. Cyrus is hanged. Kayden leaves for an adventure to learn about magic. Fabian dies of old age. Nothing much to say about this, because they didn’t give us anything to say.

Thoughts:

All this content that they’ve crammed into this finale (plus the past few chapters) should a) either been written into a book 2, or at least a few more chapters, or b) not written in at all. Just let MC have her throne and be a good ruler, dammit.

Doesn’t the whole ��giving up your throne” render the entire book (or at least the back end of it) pointless? We’ve worked so hard for this, we’ve gone through the entire ass-kissing-approval cycle once again, just to throw it away in the finale? I do not accept it.

So many things have been left unanswered. Who was the assassin? Who was Renza’s husband? What’s the deal with the whole magic thing? Et cetera, et cetera.

So the Rys/Rhys bloodline isn’t actually dead, reopening up the (rather unlikely) possibility that TRR Liam is a Rys/Rhys. And for y'all complaining about the spelling “error”, that’s how names and languages work, you illiterates. They change and evolve, like it or not.

In conclusion, I am not satisfied with this ending. Chapter 15 got my hopes up only for them to be yeeted away again. I just… *sigh*, y’know? Another book with great potential that just… became “meh” I guess. Sorry I feel that way.

#this week on choices #playchoices #choices stories you play #the royal masquerade

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sage-nebula · 4 years

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em-exceeds-change-zearu replied to your post:

same mood. I want to see Alan in squishy pokeani 2020 style but after they handled korrina episode...it wasnt bad but it wasn't super impressive either so im just kinda...waves hands

I haven’t seen the Korrina episode yet, so I don’t have any opinions on that specifically. My main feelings have to do with how they ended Alan’s story (and by extension Manon’s), and to a lesser extent how they’re handling Ash now and what I think that could mean for Alan’s return.

I’m sure you’re familiar with my gripes re: Alan’s ending, but to summarize them again here: XYZ044 showed us that Alan was traumatized and depressed to the point of dissociating even when at a table filled with friends and family and having thoughts that sounded a whole lot (to older / experienced viewers) like suicidal ideation as a result of Lysandre’s abuse and manipulation. Ash makes Alan promise to battle him again someday, and while Ash makes that promise with a lot of people, in this particular case the way Ash phrased it and the general anxiety and fear he showed as he phrased it (as well as Alan’s reaction to it) made it sound like he was giving Alan a reason to keep living, something to look forward to. It was really beautiful, and I felt a big, needed step toward the healing and recuperation he was bound to receive at the lab since Sycamore had told him that he was needed there . . .

. . . only for him to take the “start from zero” approach like Ash’s other companions and immediately fuck off into the wilderness in search of Mega Stones again, Manon at his side. This was phrased as him picking up the work he was doing before Lysandre picked him up, but it’s also continuing the work he was doing for Lysandre, in a way, since Lysandre had him going after Mega Stones in addition to collecting Mega Evolution energy. (Notably, the Mega Stone he finds in TSME 1 is Gyaradosite, and we all know who ended up using that.) More importantly than that, though, is that Alan’s trauma seems to be magically gone. He’s magically all better. He’s “starting from zero” (whatever that means) and so he’s all better. He’s not needed at the lab anymore, apparently, nor in Lumiose, despite everything that happened. Nope, it’s fine to have him just fuck off into a cave somewhere. That’s cool.

As you can tell with my tone, that’s not cool for me. XYZ044 set up a beautiful ending for him, but the actual last episode he appears in (I think it’s XYZ046? I can’t remember) throws that out the window. It’s obvious that the writers wanted to wrap up his story in a neat bow while showing Just How Influential Ash is by having Alan copy his words (even though Ash already had a positive influence by giving Alan a reason to look forward to the future ffs), but in doing so they completely disrespected Alan’s character and his story, and to this day I remain salty about it. Given that, I really don’t trust how they’d depict him if he showed up again, particularly considering that I’m absolutely positive they wouldn’t give his battle with Ash the emotional weight it deserves given that they tried to throw that weight out the window immediately after introducing it.

(As a side note, I also remain upset at how he’s traveling with Manon again specifically, and not just because her stans / the shippers were particularly obnoxious back in 2016. I’m upset by it because it’s not good for Manon, either, with regards to her independence as a trainer. Manon became wholly reliant on Alan protecting her, never once attempting to battle herself outside of the time she captured Flabébé (RIP) in TSME 1, and while she did have that heroic moment in TSME 3 where she dragged Alan’s unconscious body off the ice, that still wasn’t an attempt on her part to battle. In fact, while Hari-san did assist Mega Metagross in fending off attacks that were headed toward Manon and Alan, that wasn’t on Manon’s orders. She never told Hari-san to protect her. In TSME 4, when Alan brings up the very real danger he finds himself in as a result of his work, Manon dismisses it and says that it’s fine because he’ll protect her. He tries to argue back by saying that she’s depending on him too much, and she again talks over him and ignores it. The thing is, she does depend on him too much. For someone who claims to want to be a strong trainer, she never trains nor battles and instead just takes cover whenever Alan himself does. Setting aside the very real issues with how Manon consistently overrides Alan’s consent and how that itself is an issue with them traveling together considering that she never apologized for that (because it takes two to fight and Manon crying in TSME 4 doesn’t change the fact that the fight that led to her crying was due to her pushing and pushing and pushing and not taking no for an answer until he snapped), Manon doesn’t ever take responsibilities for herself as a trainer. She depends on Alan to do the battling for her, tells Hari-san to “leave her alone” in a strange place instead of putting him in his pokéball (which leads to him helping Squishy escape / becoming comatose), et cetera. And while it’s not wrong for Alan to protect her given how inexperienced she is (though it is wrong to deny him a choice in whether he will or not by tagging along without his consent), it’s not doing her any favors to continue the habit of depending on him if she truly wants to be a trainer. She needs to learn and grow on her own, and so having her travel with Alan again not only rewards her for overriding his boundaries and consent so many times (see, just keep pushing and cry some and you’ll get what you want in the end!), but it also doesn’t give her the opportunity she needs to stand on her own two feet to grow as a trainer, like she’d have if she resumed her original journey on her own, rather than tagging along on Alan’s. This was a much longer side note than I wanted it to be originally, but I feel it’s all worth saying so I’m saying it anyway.)

All of that aside, though, the way Ash is being handled in the new series gives me another layer of concern, in that I feel like he’s being handled super powerful pokémon with the express purpose of being able to steamroller anything in his path. With the exception of Riolu (who is a literal baby) and arguably Galar Farfetch’d (who is still Stage 1), the new pokémon that Ash has acquired in this series are super powerful from the outset, either because their species as a whole is powerful and they’re in the final form of it (Dragonite) or because they were previously trained up to the final form and he just got to inherit them (Gengar). People are upset that Ash didn’t capture Sobble, but they’re missing the fact that Ash is acquiring pokémon that are going to give him an edge in every battle, presumably to satisfy those in the audience who care about nothing other than to see Ash win. Farfetch’d will undoubtedly become Sirfetch’d (something that gives it a battle edge over Gou’s Kanto Farfetch’d, and you don’t see any Gou fans upset that he got the competitively useless one), and Riolu is bound to become Lucario. Ash is being handed a team that will make it “understandable” when he defeats Leon at the end of the series, in a way that makes it honestly seem that the only reason he is here at all is to placate those who are only interested in the anime to see him win and to help Gou grow as a trainer (since he does have moments of mentoring Gou).

And if you’re wondering how this relates to Alan . . . I feel like, if Alan comes back, he’ll come back solely to battle and lose to Ash. And while I’m not one of those people that feels that MY FAVE MUST ALWAYS WIN EVER (TSME 3 is my favorite of the TSME episodes and Alan nearly dies in that one), not only do I feel that their promise to battle again won’t be treated as the lifeline it was in XYZ044, but I also feel that Ash would only win in order to make him seem like The Most Powerful Trainer Ever to placate his stans, particularly those that to this day remain bitter about the Kalos League. (Yes, there are still people bitching about it four years later. Unsurprisingly these are usually people who don’t understand basically anything about battling, but I digress.) And considering how much emotional weight was given to their future battle in XYZ044—that it was about giving Alan something to look forward to in the future, a reason to feel like living to that future was worth it—having it reduced down to something to Make Ash Look Cool and Apologize For The Kalos League (which doesn’t need an apology) would be really upsetting to me. It’s not about who wins or loses, but about why the battle is taking place and the emotional significance of it. And I really don’t trust the PokéAni to pull that off.

So with all that said, should Alan come back, I actually don’t want him and Ash to battle yet, and I’d rather Manon be on her own journey elsewhere so that she can gain that much needed independence. But I can’t see them bringing Alan back and not having him and Ash battle, so at the end of it I’m just kind of left like

#this was long i'm sorry #but I have a lot of Feelings and Thoughts when it comes to the TSME cast #and Alan specifically #emexceedschangezearu #pokeani #pokemon #champion alan #trainer manon #long post for ts #pokeani criticism #pokeani negativity #not putting this in Ash's tag since I'm not suicidal (anymore)#and despite how all this sounds i've actually warmed up to the Alan & Manon brotp again #despite how those who shipped it romantically put me off even the (CANON) platonic relationship for a LONG time #(particularly since they wouldn't stop bringing gross romance onto my platonic posts UGH)#but i still think it would have been better for BOTH of them if Alan stayed at the lab #and Manon resumed HER OWN JOURNEY #since outside of the very beginning of TSME 1 she wasn't ON her own journey #she was tagging along on ALAN'S journey #and yeah . . . she did want to do that (though he DIDN'T want her to do that) . . .#but it's still sad that her entire journey was put on hold and that she (seems to have) lost confidence in herself as a trainer as a result #maybe she doesn't want to battle despite what she originally thought - or maybe she'd be happier as a Coordinator or something #it's possible! but she will NEVER FIND THAT OUT if she doesn't search out a journey on her OWN #rather than just tagging along on whatever Alan does #and Alan being sent after Mega Stones when Lysandre had him doing that?#B O I #like yeah he did it for Sycamore first #but he did it for Lysandre longer #and this is just . . . ignored . . . i #[deep breaths]

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atlas-of-space · 5 years

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Dance with me - writing prompt

Synopsis: Did you really think you would be going alone to prom?

Prompt: “Dance with me”

A/N: this is a writing challenge by @starksparker for this summer :) i think i went kinda overboard on the backstory but okay lol did i forget i was writing a prompt and did i have to insert said prompt later into the story? maybe.

Word count: 3,6K

warnings: a few swears here and there

You and MJ had been friends since elementary school. You bonded when both of you weren’t invited to Macy’s birthday party, thus organizing your own party that was way more fun. From that day, a close friendship was born. Fast forward to middle and high school. Both being kind of hardcore nerds, you both got into Midtown Tech. You befriended Ned and Peter and you felt that you had finally found your place in the world.

Your senior year was the hardest and easiest of high school. You started applying to your dream college (NYU), writing essays and what-not, you had several competitions and science fairs going on et cetera. That was the easy part. The hard part had yet to come for you: prom.

Most kids already had a boyfriend or girlfriend, so they automatically had a partner. There already had been a fair share of promposals (MJ had been asked by the new kid Brad (was he really new?? He just aged when the rest of you were in the Blip), Ned asked Betty and that was that.)

“So, who are you asking, Peter?” MJ inquired. Peter had been relatively quiet when you guys started talking about prom. He shrugged and his mouth set in a hard line. “I’ve been thinking about asking this girl, but I’m about 125% sure that she’ll say no. So I’m thinking about going alone.” MJ frowned, “there’s no harm in just asking the girl. Why are you so sure she’ll reject you?” Peter shrugged again, “She’s probably waiting for someone else to ask, so I’d rather not be embarrassed thank you very much.”

This was Peter’s pessimistic side talking. You two bonded over being total opposites (him being more pessimistic and you being the positive person) and you just knew that he was overreacting. “Don’t be so melodramatic Pete, for all you know she’s waiting to be asked by you. Who are we talking about by the way?” You really wanted to know who Peter was talking about because you had absolutely no idea who this could be. Could it be Charlotte from the debate team? Or Amina who’s volunteering at the library? Or even just someone he met on his internship because duh it’s the stark internship and how many smart beautiful awesome people work there??

For the rest of the day, you continued to sulk and you actually felt quite miserable. You had had feelings for Peter for a while now, but they really took off when you two spent a weekend together going on a field trip.

“So, can you get that stick out of your ass and talk to me or are you going to keep being miserable for the rest of the week?”, MJ pointed out. She sat next to you in the library, where you two always studied and revised together. You rolled your eyes but you knew that what she said was true.

“Well, if I say what’s been bothering me will you promise not to tell anyone?” “Not to tell anyone that you’re actually in love with Peter or to not tell anyone that in 4th grade you got the class hamster for the weekend and you accidentally killed it because you thought your older brother’s snake would want to be friends with it?”

“Jesus, MJ not so loud!”, you groaned. Let’s be honest. Both things she said were true and you didn’t want any one to know about them. “Please don’t ever bring up Ozzy up again. I’m still traumatized and everyone thinks he died of old age, so zip it.”

“So we’re not going to talk about you and Peter?”, she softly asked after a short moment of silence. “I just really don’t know what to say,” you sighed, “we’ve been friends for such a long time and I really don’t want to mess it up by like declaring my love or something for him.”

“Well, I wouldn’t necessarily call it declaring your love, but I do think there is something between you guys. Don’t you remember when you came back from Boston and you two were like, inseparable?” MJ was so fucking observant, nothing went by her without her noticing, and at times like these it was quite annoying that she knew everything, but for the most part it came in really handy. MJ just knew you and knew what was going on in your head. She just wanted to be a good friend.

“For anyone who didn’t know you guys, it really seemed like you guys were dating or something. Do you really not notice how he looks at you?”, you shook your head. You had been wrapped up in assignments after the trip and just had been studying and yeah, you just didn’t really have a lot of time to think about it. This doesn’t mean that you ‘lost’ your feelings for Peter, they just had to make room for other things.

What started as a boring history trip to Boston, ended in laughter and getting to know each other even better. The four hour drive was something no one was looking forward to, because duh you literally can’t do anything besides talking and okay, Peter was your friend but you had never had much one-on-one time and you were kind of nervous? Also, when did Peter get these muscles?

“Are we sitting together for this ten million hour drive, y/n?”, you nodded and pulled him onto one of the benches, giving him your backpack to put on the rack above you.

You started bickering about some random movie you had seen a week before and Peter wanted to facepalm because you were so stubborn. “No, jesus, Y/n, the ending was so good, it was meant to be sad because life isn’t just rainbows and butterflies! You can’t just expect a good ending in every movie because you get sentimental afterwards.”

“Well, okay mister I’m-always-negative, sorry for wanting the main character to have a nice life. I just think he deserved better. He just had this really romantic outlook on life and then everyone dumped him and he died alone. That’s sad right, don’t you agree?”

Peter had to agree, but he just wanted to get you to understand that sometimes shitty things happen (like getting bit by a radioactive spider and getting super powers and trying to save your city, because you were now a friendly neighborhood spider-man). Anyway, he admired your positive outlook on life and he didn’t want to ruin it, but he also didn’t want you to get hurt every time something remotely negative happened in your life - which was inevitable, let’s be honest.

“I was just saying, but I really like that about you,” Peter softly said, his eyes locking on yours. You slightly blushed, but disregarded the comment. Friends say stuff like that, right? You squeezed his bicep, turning to look outside of the window. “God we’ve only left the city and I already want to get out!”, you changed the subject. Peter swallowed hard and coughed, trying to get rid of the intimate moment you guys just shared.

For the following hours you talked and talked about everything and nothing. The bus arrived at the hotel you would be staying at for 2 nights and you both teamed up with someone to share a room. After doing a tour of the city, everyone got back to the hotel and you were free to do what you wanted.

“So, are you down to go eat something together?” Peter asked, whilst leaning against the doorframe of the room you shared with Drew. Drew shot you a look, silently saying ‘YES!!!! GO!!’, and you rolled your eyes.

“Um, yeah sure, let me just grab my things and we’ll go look for something then,” you started gathering your stuff and said goodbye to Drew. “It’s a date, right?” She winked and you wanted to throw yourself out of the window, because just stop with this! “Yeah bye Drew, have fun on your own!”, you sarcastically called out.

Peter and you walked down the street, trying to find a cheap place that had decent dinner.

You decided on a dumpling place that actually looked really cool, it had these old wooden floors and lots of plants. “You down to share some dumplings with me or not?” You asked whilst flipping through the menu. Peter nodded and decided for some classic dumplings, while you chose the vegetarian ones. That way, you could share some.

“So, do you already know what uni you want to go to?”, Peter asked, whilst battling with your chopsticks to get a dumpling. “I’ve been looking into some unis in New York area so I can stay close to home, but there are just so many good schools over the whole country so yeah.. I’m still confused as fuck.” You smirked when you got the dumpling you were fighting about and popped it in your mouth. “So, what about you?” You asked once you ate the dumpling.

“Yeah so I really want to stay in the city. This place is my home you know, and I’m not really ready to leave everything behind and start over again so yeah, I’m thinking about Columbia or NYU or just a local college so I can combine the stark internship with studying. But yeah, I’m really looking forward to next year.”

You nodded and gave him a soft smile, “so, we’ll probably stay in the same city. We can meet up then!” Peter’s eyes twinkled and he smiled, “this is going to be great! We can go to parties together and study together!”

After dinner, you walked back to the hotel, it looked as if both of you had drunk just a little too much, stumbling through the streets and giggling so much that you couldn’t breathe. “Are you actually serious? You thought the hamster would be friends with the snake?”

“I was in 4th grade! I just didn't want him to be lonely!” You exclaimed, trying not to ruin your mascara because you were definitely crying of laughter. You put your hand on the inside of Peters inner arm, trying to hold onto him because you just couldn’t keep your ground anymore.

“You can’t tell anyone though! MJ has been keeping it a secret for years, so if this ever gets out I’m done!”, you joked while you entered the hotel lobby. Because you both looked a bit out of place and were making a bit too much noise, you got some weird looks. You both ignored everyone, too wrapped up in each other.

You calmed down in the elevator, still holding onto Peter’s arm. You loved being with Peter alone. You connected on a deeper level, you just understood each other. You had liked him for a while now. Nothing serious, just a small crush.

You walked to your room. Instead of going inside, you waited outside and looked at Peter. He was leaning against the doorframe, waiting for you to open the door. “Well, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then?”, you said quietly. Peter nodded and licked his lips. He looked in your eyes, and it was as if he wanted to say something else, but he just kept quiet.

“okay, I’m going in now, bye Peter,” you got your room key and swiped it, opening the door. You looked at Peter one last time. He had already straightened up but opened his arms to give you a hug. You stepped into his arms and squeezed your arms around his torso. Had you ever been this close to Peter? God. He smelled really good and you felt at ease in his arms.

He released you and gave a small wave, turning back to go to the elevator to go up to his room. You smiled to yourself and got into your room.

The rest of the weekend went off without a hitch. You visited some museums and did a few workshops, learning about the history. This was going to be one hell of an assignment to write. Peter and you spent most of the time you were awake together. Drew was suspiciously absent when you were with Peter. It's almost as if she stayed away on purpose.

When you returned, you had a lot of work to catch up on and you had to make this ginormous assignment about the trip. You still saw Peter a lot. During lunch and other classes you had together, you would always sit next to each other. You worked on the assignment together and you visited each other in the weekends. MJ noticed that every time you were studying in the library Peter was there, just left or was about to arrive. You hardly had any one-on-one time with MJ anymore, and she was starting to feel left out.

“I mean yeah, we became really good friends on that trip, perhaps even more but people don’t fall in love over a weekend, MJ, I’m not that naive.”

“People don’t fall in love over a weekend, but they do if these feelings have been build up for literal years!”, MJ was at the end of her wits here. How could you NOT see that Peter was in love with you?? He came over every other weekend, he helped you if you were stuck with something. You spend so much time together and he hadn’t been on a decent date in months. This wasn’t some bullshit crush - this felt real.

“AND, after that trip, we hardly spent any time together because you were with Peter every breathing second!” MJ exclaimed, “So don’t go bullshitting me that he doesn’t like you, because that boy is head over heals in love with you.”

“Well okay then. Why wouldn’t he ask to prom then? If he likes me?” You tried to reason. You were ignore these feelings, because once you both admitted them to each other, it would be real.

“He’s insecure. It’s 2019, girls can ask guys to prom. You just ask him already.” You sighed and rubbed your eyes with your hand palms. “I know you have like the soul of a 120 year old activist in you, but I’m still a regular-ass teenage girl who’s scared of being called abnormal. So i’m just going to ignore everything you just said and go alone to prom, because that’s what nerds do.”

MJ wanted to strangle you, because this was like a horror movie; the main character did everything they weren’t supposed to do. “okay, you do you. But don't complain to me if Peter shows up with some random girl because you’re both chickens.”

MJ got her books and got up. She was frustrated with you, but you knew it was all in good heart. You tried to get some more studying done, but you were really distracted.

What did you have to lose, if you asked Peter to prom? A few years of friendship? A great study-buddy?

Prom was next week, and both you and Peter had been avoiding the topic. Both MJ and Ned were so fed up with it (MJ had told Ned everything), but decided not to do anything about it. It was your life, so your problem in the end.

Cue to the day before prom. You had everything prepared. Your dress, heels, make-up, you even got a corsage. What you didn’t have: a date. You were too chicken to ask Peter, so you went alone. You were going to dance your heart out and enjoy your life, because that’s what being young is about.

You decided to drive yourself to the venue. You got everything ready and were about to put on your heels when the doorbell rang. You figured it would be MJ who forgot something and opened the door.

It wasn’t MJ though, who stood on your porch. Peter was wearing an all black tux and his hair was combed neatly, instead of the wild curls he always had. His hands were in his pockets (his hands were really shaky at this moment and he didn’t want to seem like a weirdo in front of you) and he didn’t say anything for the first few moments.

“Oh, um, wow, Y/N you look-.. you look amazing!” He struggled to say. His cheeks got a light pink hue, as did yours. “Thanks, Peter, you look very handsome yourself.”

You both looked at each other awkwardly, not knowing what to say, because What The Hell was Peter doing here?

“What do you need, Peter?” You asked him. Your palms were getting sweaty and you felt your face heath up. What is happening right now?

“I know this is probably so out of line and I understand if you don’t want to but I’ve been thinking about it for a while now and I was too chicken to tell you until this moment now, but uh-, Y/N I uh, I really like you and I totally understand if you don’t reciprocate these uh feelings,” he rambled and had to take a deep breath after saying all this.

Internally, you were freaking out, but externally, it looked as if you had just seen a ghost pass by.

“Um, Y/N? Can you say something please?” Peter croaked. Tears were beginning to form in his eyes and this lump in his throat was keeping him from rambling again.

“Oh my-, I’m so sorry Peter oh my god! No, I just didn’t think this moment would ever arrive? I don’t know what to say other than, um, that I like you as well?”

You royally fucked this one up. Peter was almost crying, you started to have a panic attack? What is this evening?

“Are you serious?” Peter asked after he gathered himself for a moment. You nodded and held the door a bit further, signaling that he could come in.

You closed the door behind him and rested your back against it, trying not to lose it. God was this real? Was this some awkward dream during the nap you took before you had to get ready?

Peter took a step closer to you and grabbed your wrist. “Do you want to go to prom with me and dance with me then?” He softly said. You interlaced your fingers with his and looked up at him.

You gave him a small smile and nodded, “I’d love to go with you Peter.”

You were both shining and when you were ready to go, your mother called out to you.

“Y/N, even though you don’t have a date, I still want pictures!”, she came out of the living room with her camera. When she saw you standing at the door, hand in hand with Peter she stopped and got a small smile on her face.

“Oh, unexpected but actually not. Hi Peter, how are you?” She joked.

“I’m good, really good actually. I’m coming to pick up your daughter for prom actually,” he answered politely.

“So, is this a,” she pointed between you two, “a date situation?” Peter instantly got red again, but you smiled confidently, “Yes, we’re going together.”

Your mother smiled dearly and nodded. “Well, if you’re going together, I do want some pictures of you two!”

You posed for some pictures and left quickly after, your mom giving you a wink. “Have fun, guys!”

Peter drove himself to your house, so you got into his car (after he held the door for you).

When you both walked up to your high school, some people did double takes. Especially your friends. MJ walked up to you with a smile, you never releasing Peter’s hand.

“Well, well, who do we have here?” She smugly asked. You wanted to give a quick-witted response, but you were just too happy.

“He came to my house just before we left and well, we both like each other and things just happened? And no we are here!”

She squeezed your other hand and smiled at you. “I’m happy for you, Y/N, even though it took literal WEEKS!”

For the rest of the night you had so much fun with your friends. You danced together, got stupid photo’s in the photobooth, and held Peter’s hand.

You slow danced together and he had his arms or hands around you at all times. This was such bliss.

You and Peter were sitting outside for a bit, trying to escape all the commotion. Your knees were touching and Peter’s thumb was rubbing over your hand.

“So,” Peter said softly, trying not to disrupt the comfortable silence, “I know this is probably way too quick, but I really like you Y/N.”

“I really like you too, Peter,” you replied gazing into his eyes. Gosh, he has such pretty eyes. How did this ever happen to you?

“Would you wanna go on a date soon? Like a real date and not some high school dance?” Peter wasn’t nervous anymore. He knew you’d say yes, he just wanted to confirm that you were actually up for it.

You nodded quickly, “I’d love to. We could go tomorrow even! I just want to spend more time with you.” God would you love to just spend the rest of senior year with Peter, that was how much you liked him.

“What do you say, tomorrow at seven? We could go eat something and decide the rest during dinner?” Peter proposed.

“It’s a date.” You said, giving Peter a kiss on his cheek.

—————

Sooooo, this is the end! Sorry it took so long to write, I had less free time than expected lol. I tried to leave the ending a bit ‘open’ idk this is my first time really writing something (other than weird af wattpad stories when I was 14 let’s be honest)

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ckret2 · 5 years

Text

A Bird in the Hand

Once upon a time, San had been in love. Not with Rodan. But when it was quiet, and his eyes were shut, he was finding it easy to pretend Rodan was someone else.

This is part of an ongoing series of Rodorah one-shots. If you don’t wanna read the others, all you need to know is: Ichi’s the only one with a crush on Rodan; and San used to have one on Gigan but at the time Ichi & Ni said they had to leave him behind because emotional attachments are weaknesses. Links to the other fics are in the source at the bottom of this post.

###

Third had voted for them to stay with the red sprite. Yes. He had.

But he and First had voted to stay for different reasons.

It wasn't that he didn't see the same things that First saw—how the red sprite was shaped like an alien echo of them, how he fought with a fury that matched theirs, et cetera ad nauseam—but none of those things mattered. They didn't call to him the way they called to First. The red sprite was only an oddity—a cute one, sure, but cute like... when was the last time they'd seen something cute? Cute like a hatchling. Or a python. But "cute" wasn't terribly impressive.

Third had voted to stay with the red sprite not for the red sprite; but to stay. Because this was only the second chance they'd ever had to anchor themselves to a home—to prevent themselves from hurtling off again into the ever-present black void eternally surrounding them. The first time he’d voted to take that chance and stay, he'd been outnumbered. This time, he had First's support—and with apologies to Second, like hell was he going to miss an opportunity to exploit that slim majority vote.

So no. Third hadn't argued to stay because he cared about the red sprite.

... He hadn't expected to start to care about the red sprite.

But here he was.

The red sprite had fallen asleep against them. Fallen asleep or passed out—being so far from home for so long must have drained his energy, and awakening a volcano for them to rest in had take the last of it. They hadn't even noticed how exhausted he was until he'd nearly fallen out of sky trying to help them.

Trying to help them. That was a strange thought—that there was someone who wanted to help them. It felt wrong, somehow. Unnatural. Like something foundational about how the world was supposed to work had just been turned askew.

It terrified them. Being helped was terrifying.

It felt like having all the power in the universe, but being completely unable to control how any of that power was used.

The red sprite was asleep with his head nuzzled between First and Third's necks, under the shade of their wings—which they were keeping propped up just out of the lava, since they couldn't risk damaging the membranes again so soon after repairing them. They were too hungry for that—they had to eat before they could repair any more major wounds. They'd reclined on their side, tails curled in a loose circle around the red sprite, and First and Second had gone to sleep as well.

Which meant Third was the only one awake, and thus the only one able to see the red sprite.

Which also meant that, if he closed his eyes so nobody could see, and if he rubbed his neck against the red sprite's face in that way they'd just discovered made him automatically try to nuzzle and preen their scales in his sleep, then Third could pretend that...

Once upon a time, Third had been in love. He thought they kind of all had been, although the others hadn't been as in love as him—so it had been easier for them to suppress it. That had been a long time ago. They didn't know how long—years were different on every world, and totally absent off-world, and how did they count the time they'd spent dreaming between stars or under ice? But it had been long ago. Very, very long ago.

He was still in love.

With his eyes closed, he focused on the feeling of a beak against his scales and imagined it was on a different face.

He wondered where Gigan was.

He wondered if Gigan was still alive. He might be, right? Extremely few creatures were immortal like them, and even the longest-lived beings succumbed to decay and dust eventually; but then, that was because extremely few creatures had been ripped apart and modified the way they had. And Gigan had been modified like them. They’d known him for millennia, and as far as they’d been able to tell, in all that time he’d never aged. So he could be as immortal as them.

They'd left out of fear: if they grew attached to Gigan, and then he died, or deserted them, or was stolen from them—if he ended— then they would have to spend the rest of life with a hole in their heart, and that hole might eventually kill them. But although they'd left because they feared him ending, that didn't mean he had ended. He might still live. Third wondered, sometimes, if he was still somewhere out there.

If he was out there—Third wondered if Gigan still thought about them. He wondered if Gigan ever wondered where they'd gone.

But Third knew that every single time he wondered about Gigan, there was a little less of a chance that he was still alive than the last time he'd thought about him.

He squeezed his eyes shut tighter, focused on the feeling of a beak against his scales, and imagined green hide and gold scales and silver scythes. Imagined the quiet buzz of his electronic brain, the soft sussurations of robotic parts against organic parts. Imagined his optical band glowing dimly red as he woke up just long enough to see Third was still there, and give him a sleepier version of that twisted smirk he offered them so often. For a moment, Third could almost believe...

Hopefully the others wouldn't be too put out if they woke up with a mild heartache. They'd be fine. All they'd have to do to disperse it was let First look at their red sprite a couple of seconds—

And the illusion was shattered. Third couldn't call the ghost of Gigan back to his side.

He opened his eyes, nudged the red sprite over to lean against First instead, and watched the clouds drift by above.

... Was this why Third hadn't complained about sticking here with the red sprite, then?

Third flinched guiltily as the question trickled through his thoughts. Second was awake; had Third woken him? No; he'd never been asleep. He'd just had his mind closed off. As he tended to do. Usually that was just a thing Second did—a quirky ability he had that the other two lacked—but for a moment, Third was deeply jealous. It would be nice to pine alone, where he wouldn't have to worry about irritating the others with it.

Second wasn't irritated.

Distracting, burdening, bothering—whatever. Gigan weighted on Third's mind; he shouldn't have to weigh on anyone else's. Especially not after so long.

But that was the nature of their existence, wasn't it? Anything that weighed on one of them weighed on them all. Sometimes it lightened the load; sometimes it only tripled it.

... But, to answer the question, no. Third hadn't wanted to stay here because the red sprite distantly reminded him of Gigan. He hadn't even noticed until today. But it wasn't just the beak—maybe it was mainly the beak—but it was also there in the way he enjoyed fighting, too, wasn't it? The sheer glee he got from tearing at them. And the way he'd been ready to burn the world down with them. And he was cheerful, wasn't he? He seemed cheerful. They thought he was probably cheerful. Hard to tell when they could barely carry on a conversation with him. He at least seemed more cheerful than they were, hah, not that that was difficult...

The similarities were thin. But what similarities were there were big ones. Important ones. (Except the beak, the beak wasn’t actually important. Although it was nice.) Important. But... he wasn’t a replacement.

They watched the sky together. They were keenly aware of the way the red sprite shifted sleepily against First's neck.

So. Things had changed now, per First’s selfish infatuation. From "never get attached" to "if we want badly enough to get attached, we can." And with that policy change, Second wondered—if Third had the choice, right now, would he want to go look for Gigan? Or stay here on this little rock with the sprite?

He'd stay here. No hesitation. If the choice was between Gigan and the red sprite, standing in front of them, right now, asking them to choose, that would be a discussion worth having. But that wasn't the choice he’d be making.

It was a choice between hurtling off into the cold dark void of space, trying to find their way back to a star system they'd left eons ago without plotting a course, to search for someone who was at best long gone and at worst long dead—versus staying on a world they knew they had firmly beneath their feet, where there was life and companionship and a very tenuous something that might eventually become a home. He wasn't going to throw away this chance to anchor themselves in order to chase a phantom. If he was asked, he'd choose to stay.

His conclusion came with a burst of old, old grief and guilt. It disoriented him. Strange. Third hadn't... hadn't quite realized he was still so... hm.

Second bunted his snout on Third's neck. Third didn't need it. He'd be fine. That was why they'd left in the first place, wasn't it? To ensure they'd be fine. To ensure they’d stay strong.

Anyway, the red sprite was growing on him. He'd grow on all of them. First's affection was contagious.

Third curled up around him, shut his eyes, and tried to sleep.

###

Second lay down on the stone just outside the caldera, stared out at the hazy sea, and struggled to burn away the old, old grief and guilt from persuading Third that they needed to leave Gigan behind.

###

(Replies/reblogs are welcome & encouraged! Check the “source” link below for my masterlist of Ghidorah-centric and Rodorah fics, as well as my AO3 and Ko-fi links.)

#rodorah #kotm #godzilla #rodan #king ghidorah #ghidorah #fanfic #my writing #(that hanahaki fic got me FIRED UP and i finally finished this)

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yutasbirthchin · 6 years

Text

It’s Complicated

Text AU ft BAP and BTOB - Part 56

Previous / Next

a/n: Now you get to know the story of Jongup and Olivia... If you’re a sap like me you’ll probably need some tissues

He knocked on the door, not sure whether he expected a response or not. He didn't get one. “Hey Liv, you awake?” Still no response. Jongup pushed the door open slowly repeating her name but frowned when he'd fully opened the door. She wasn't in there. He walked in and peered through the open door of the en suite bathroom, she wasn't there either. “Huh.” He said aloud. He retraced his steps out into the main room of the cabin they'd rented but he definitely hadn't walked past her.

Finally his eyes landed on the double doors, specifically the familiar figure on the other side. He panicked, rushing out onto the patio. “Jesus fucking Christ, Liv.” He started as he got outside. He realised what she was looking at, and momentarily froze as the emotions hit him. He forced the pain away to regain his composure and carried on towards her, grabbing her arm and pulling her back slightly. “I told you, you aren't allowed out here unless I'm with you!”

His voice was raised but it didn't phase her. She turned slowly back to him. “The stairs.” Olivia said, her eyes meeting his. To anyone else this would have been a random statement, but Jongup knew it was a question and a heavy one at that. He didn't trust his voice so he just nodded. Olivia watched him carefully. She may not be the person she once used to be but the one thing that hadn't changed was her ability to read Jongup. Seeing the pain in his eyes she realised why he had tried to convince her otherwise, why he had said this was a bad idea and she felt guilty. “I’m sorry. I wanted to do this for me but I didn't realise it affected you so much.”

Jongup was feeling so many emotions he didn't know what the predominant one was and he suddenly regretted not mentioning this trip to his therapist, this could mess him up even more. “Hey, remember when I said I had a weird vision thing?” Olivia asked, changing the subject. It caught Jongup off guard.

“Yeah?” He questioned, glad that his voice hadn’t failed him.

“I might have lied about you not knowing the person.” She admitted. Jongup narrowed his eyes, he could sense where this conversation was going and he didn’t know how he felt about it. He didn't say anything. Olivia didn’t know how to word it and so she didn’t say anything either. They stood looking at each other, in silent conversation. When she turned to look at the baluster Jongup got all the confirmation he needed. He felt sick through his stomach. “Can we go and sit there?” Olivia asked and he shook his head.

“I can’t.” He said, his voice cracking. “I can’t.”

***

“Hey, come here.” Jongup said as he sat at the baluster at the end of the balustrade.

Olivia cocked her head to the side, a smile on her face. “Why should I?”

Jongup mock sighed, getting up and walking over to her, wrapping his arms loosely around her waist. “Because I asked nicely, and the view is nice.” He replied, looking down at her with a smirk.

“Sounds good, let’s go.” She said, pushing him slightly so he would walk backwards.

“You made me walk all the way over here just to walk back?” He asked, not taking his eyes off of her as they made there way back to sit down.

“You did that yourself, I didn’t make you.”

“You’re so difficult.”

“I try to be.” She said with a smirk. Jongup had finally reached the baluster again, sitting on it and pulling her between his legs. She looked at the view of the beach in the distance. It was a nice view but Jongup hadn’t stopped looking at her. She frowned. “I thought you said the view is nice?”

“It is?”

“Then why aren’t you looking at it?”

“Because I found something prettier.” He answered, making her blush. Olivia didn’t think she could take it anymore.

She had liked Jongup for as long as she could remember. Although she wasn’t sure of his feelings at first, in the last few months the dynamic of their friendship had changed dramatically to the point where it was obvious. She was sure there was no way he would flirt with her as much as he did without liking her back. He hadn’t confessed, but she decided that last comment was as best as she would get. That and the fact that she didn’t think she would be able to hold in her feelings anymore.

Olivia placed her hands on Jongup’s cheeks as she looked up at him. His eyes falling to her lips was all the confirmation she needed and she leant forward to kiss him. Jongup was on fire. His best friend, Olivia Shin, the girl he’s been crazy about for a year, is kissing him. He smiled into the kiss moving his hands from the small of her back to grip her hips as he kissed her.

***

He kept shaking his head. “I can’t, Liv.” Jongup tried his hardest to keep the tears back. “I.. I think I’m going to throw up.” He said, letting go of her and rushing back inside to the bathroom.

The sound of a bang followed by a faint curse startled Daehyun awake and Youngjae chuckled at him. “You jump too easily.” Daehyun turned in Youngjae’s arms to face him.

“How long have you been awake?” He asked, groggily.

“A while.”

“Good morning.” Daehyun said with a smile.

“Good morning, Dae.” Youngjae replied, pressing a kiss to his forehead. Daehyun smiled wider, snuggling into his boyfriend more.

“What was that bang?” He asked, slightly muffled but Youngjae heard him anyway.

“Just Olivia.”

“I’ve never met anyone that clumsy, I think she’s redefined the word.” It was a light joke but Youngjae didn’t even crack a smile and it concerned him. “What’s wrong?”

Youngjae sighed. “Nothing.”

“Is it a medical condition or something?”

“Sort of.” Youngjae answered. Daehyun didn’t reply, leaving an opportunity for him to continue. “I’m not an expert on it because I didn’t want to push Jongup too much but a year ago she had an accident and it left her with a traumatic brain injury. Some of the side effects are bad coordination and occasional blurry vision, dizziness or seeing double which is the reason she's so clumsy.”

“Oh.” Was Daehyun's response, there wasn't really much else he could say. “It must have been a bad accident.”

“It was. Remember when me and Jongup disappeared for two months a year ago because of a ‘family emergency’?”

“Shit. It was because of that?”

“Yeah. It was bad. She suffered the physical trauma and he suffered the psychological trauma.”

“Wouldn't she suffer both?”

“If she remembered the accident she would, but she doesn't so her psychological trauma is pretty tame.”

“Is that why you hide the picture of them from him?”

Youngjae nodded. “Yeah. I didn't actually know they were still friends all this time, but they took the picture right before it happened… Jongup is barely surviving and if he saw that… I don't know what it would do to him.”

Daehyun thought for a moment before he sat up to grab his phone. He scrolled up through his and Youngjae's messages to find where he had sent the picture and redownloaded it. “I was right.” He said, a frown forming on his face as he looked down at his boyfriend.

“What?”

“This picture… it was taken right outside here.” He answered, pointing in the general direction of the patio and balustrade outside.

Youngjae sighed, nodding his head. “Yeah.”

Jongup had come out of the bathroom to find Olivia sat on the floor waiting for him. He’d ignored her questions, instead focusing on their plans for today once his brother and Daehyun got up. She didn't argue with him, he'd already spent five minutes throwing up and didn't want to push her luck. She’d decided to try again later.

Now was later.

They were sat on the beach, side by side with feet in the water. Youngjae and Daehyun were further up the beach in their own little world. Olivia watched them. “They're cute together.”

“I know, it only took a year for my stupid brother to realise he was gay and had feelings for him.”

“Well, they're together now, that's all that matters, right?”

“Yeah.” Jongup smiled.

They fell into a comfortable silence but she was nervous. How can she word what she was about to say?

“Up?”

“Yeah, Liv?”

She sighed. “I know I'm really forgetful and clumsy et cetera et cetera but… do you really think I can't tell when you're lying to me? Or hiding something from me?”

He frowned at her “What do you mean?”

“Jongup, this whole year… I've known. I know there's something that you aren't telling me. Why? Why won't you tell me what it is?” Jongup regretted coming here. He knew it was a bad idea, which is why he didn't tell his therapist and even with the comfort of his brother it wasn't helping. Olivia wasn't helping. “Jongup?”

He snapped, his emotions all coming out at once. “Because I don't want to remember. Okay? I don't want to remember. That was the best weekend of my life which turned into my worst nightmare, why the fuck would I want to remember it?” He rested his head in his hands, tears pouring from his eyes. “You were right there in my arms and then you weren't. You stepped away and you slipped and you fell and I saw it. I watched you fall down those fucking stairs and there was nothing I could do about it. Nothing! I thought you fucking died Olivia! You weren't moving and there was blood everywhere and I was all alone and I thought you were dead. Did you ever think about me? Ever? About what I went through? It fucked me up, Olivia. I've been seeing a therapist for almost a year and I still can't sleep at night without taking the strongest sleeping pills they prescribe. But even then I still have fucking nightmares. I try so hard to forget it. So fucking hard. But I can't. I don't want to remember what fucking happened. Okay?”

Olivia wiped her tears. She was stunned, she didn't know what to say or do. “Jongup, I-”

“Do you know what the icing on the cake is?” He asked, his words barely distinguishable through his sobs. “You don't even remember any of that weekend. None of it.”

“The kiss.” She said, remembering the random memory that had been returned to her a few weeks prior. “We kissed, I remember that.”

Jongup knew this. It was what had made him sick in the morning. The thought that suddenly Olivia had remembered their first kiss was too overwhelming for him.

But it wasn't enough for him. “That's the only thing you remember.” He said as he got up. His head was swirling and he didn't think he could take it anymore. Olivia watched him leave, not knowing what to do.

“Hey.” Youngjae said as he opened the door to Jongup’s room and sat down on the bed next to his brother. Jongup was face down on the bed, letting the pillow soak up his tears. “You know, I don't think I ever thanked you for what you did for me. When I had my mental breakdown, I mean. You were worried about me and were there caring for me the whole time. Thank you. You're an annoying little shit but you've always been there for me, even though you had your own issues to deal with. Thank you.”

He rested a hand on his brothers back, rubbing it. “When you think about it we both deal with our problems the same way. We hide them. We keep them in, to ourselves and try to deal with them on our own. It's a bad habit really. Not that my internal crisis really equates to psychological trauma but you know what I mean. But when I was going through all that you got to know what it's like to be on the other end of it. To be the worried friend or relative. I'm not saying that to make you feel bad, I'm telling you because I want you to know that I feel the same. I care about you and I worry sick about you. Olivia knows now and she's feels same. Daehyun doesn't fully know but he feels the same. We are here for you and we love you.”

Youngjae watched as Jongup’s hand blindly grabbed around before finding his. He squeezed his little brothers hand. “I always thought this was a bad idea. I know it was her idea and not yours, but she didn't realise that you've been suffering too this whole time. You probably should have told her from the beginning and maybe you could have worked through it together, but maybe that's what you can start from now. I'm sure you must feel guilty about what happened even though it wasn't your fault and you couldn't do anything about it. I also know that me saying it might not do much but… it wasn't your fault. You didn't do anything wrong and there's nothing different you could have done. So please don't blame yourself, Jongup.

I know you love her. She was telling me and Dae about all the things you do for her. That you've filled her apartment with sticky notes reminding her of things to do, that you've given her a notebook with a weekly plan in it that she can carry around with her, that you text her every morning reminding her of her schedule for the day, that you carry around a spare t-shirt for her and that you've caught her and stopped her from tripping more times than she can count. She told us you took her for a bike ride for almost two hours just because she missed riding a bike and she can't do it anymore. And that isn't even the half of it. You do so much for her it's amazing Jongup, honestly. I wish I can care for Daehyun even just half as much as you care for her. And goddamn I don't know how you managed to do all of that for her whilst trying to deal with me at the same time. You're really something, bro.

It's okay to be broken, it's okay to hurt, it's okay to be vulnerable. Please let us take care of you like you take care of everyone else.” Jongup pulled his hand away from Youngjae and pushed himself up, turning to face his brother. Youngjae chuckled. “Jesus Christ did I look that bad?”

Jongup laughed too, shaking his head. “You definitely looked worse.” Youngjae held his arms out and Jongup moved into them, hugging him. “Thank you.” Jongup said.

“Don’t mention it.”

“It hurts so bad.” He mumbled into his brothers shoulder.

“I don’t doubt that.”

“I just wished she would remember.”

Youngjae didn’t understand. “What? The accident?”

He shook head. “No, no of course not. Everything else.”

“Well, what else happened?”

Jongup sighed. “A lot. So much happened Youngjae. I don’t even know where to start.” Youngjae could feel Jongup’s tears and rubbed his back. “That stupid t-shirt I carry around for her… I… of course I carry it around because she might need it but the reason I always give her the same t-shirt is because she would always tell me how much she loved it and would steal it from me one day, so I gave it to her. And then she wakes up from her coma and gives it back to me saying it must have been in her things by mistake. I just want her to remember that. I want her to remember all the stupid shit we did together, like when we went to the funfair nearby. She had the biggest smile on her face the whole time. Or when we just sat and watched Disney movies all night because she wanted to.”

Youngjae could only just make out what his brother was saying and he tried to calm him down. “Hey, it's okay.”

“I want her to remember that she's my fucking girlfriend, Youngjae. Do you know what that feels like? I'd liked her for ages and ages and we had our first kiss here and we had so many good memories. I finally worked up the courage to confess and ask her to be my girlfriend and she said yes but she doesn't even remember. She has no idea.”

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nikatyler · 6 years

Photo

When you’re reading this, it’s already after my prom. However, when I’m writing this, it’s the night before my prom, I’m freaking out and I’m listening to some Christmas music to calm down. Don’t judge me, okay? I’m not one of those “November = Christmas” people but I like to listen to Christmas songs early. I’ll start decorating by the end of this month. And buying gifts, too. End of November sounds nice.

Anyway, my prom. I’m freaking out. Long dress, high heels, makeup...aaaand I still don’t know what my hair will look like and that freaks me out as well. I’m a mess. When you’re reading this, I’m already at home, it’s all done, I have survived. Hopefully I don’t have a hangover.

SUNDAY AFTERNOON RONNIE HERE! If this wasn’t the best evening of my life then I don’t know what was. I didn’t make a fool of myself, I had a great time, I drank responsibly, I’m just a little tired and sad that it’s over.

It’s actually Monday afternoon now. Oops. I was going to post it yesterday but then I didn’t because anxiety. Basically. I hate myself. (take a shot every time I say something along these lines)

Replies now. Just a warning, it got really long this time and also, technically I spoil something even though at this point it’s obvious anyway so...yeah just thought I’d let you know :D

For some reason I couldn’t get a few of these replies straight out of my activity feed so I went and just did it manually because I knew they were there somewhere. Just saying in case you were wondering why the format is different.

(x)

jackssims: “Forget her” woooow Ross

elisabettasims: Ross, you don't deserve to be turned and live forever after that remark.

This goes on the list of the worst things he’s ever said. Not that I have a list like that, but I could start one.

(x)

riversong331: I swear to god if she dies I’m going to start a revolt

I’m not ready

Well then...you better start getting ready. Just saying.

jackssims replied to your photoset “Sunset: “Daddy gone again?” December: “Oh yeah, he is. It would be...”

It would be nice if he was there /at all/ for Sunset lbr

Yeah. He needs to work on that.

jackssims replied to your photoset “Hottub is no fun when you’re alone. Once again, the conversation I had...”

Yeeeeesssssssss

pxelatedtrash replied to your photoset “Hottub is no fun when you’re alone. Once again, the conversation I had...”

Yesyesyesyesyesyes xD

tiny-tany-thaanos replied to your photoset “Hottub is no fun when you’re alone. Once again, the conversation I had...”

*incoherent screaming*

but this doesn't excuse lack of interest in your daughter, Ross!

The ship may sail now.

By the way, at this point I was kinda scared everyone would just be excited about this revelation and forget Ross is still a bad person who sees his daughter as a minor inconvenience his parents can take care of. I’m glad that didn’t happen, he can’t be forgiven just yet, thankyouthankyouthankyou. I never should’ve doubted you, honestly :D

elisabettasims replied to your photoset “Sunset: “Daddyyyy wake up!” Ross: pretend you don’t hear her, pretend...”

It's really, really difficult for me to like Ross. To be fair to him in this case, a lot of parents have done this.

Ah, yes, sadly...I know people whose parenting is very similar to Ross. :/

tiny-tany-thaanos replied to your photoset “Sunset: “Daddy gone again?” December: “Oh yeah, he is. It would be...”

I`m soooo close to calling Ross an a-hole

Sorry!��

tiny-tany-thaanos replied to your photoset “Ross: “Sunny, you can’t do this. Your dad - as in me - is a very busy...”

And when is your free time scheduled? When you have grandchildren?

Good question...guess we’ll find out when he actually has grandchildren in the game :D

jackssims replied to your photoset “Ross: “Sunny, you can’t do this. Your dad - as in me - is a very busy...”

Every time Ross says something like this to Sunset I die a little inside

You’re not the only one. I felt so bad writing these lines

jackssims replied to your photoset “Valentine: “Are you feeling a little unwell, brother? Is Sunset...”

Valentine pls

She’s trying to bring my alien jokes back leave her alone everyone

jackssims replied to your photoset “Ooh boy. It was one hell of a nausea.”

*eyes emoji*

I didn’t think anyone would think this was important but then again...we know how I feel about aliens ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

elisabettasims replied to your photoset “WHAT WERE YOU TWO DOING THERE THAT’S YOUR SON’S CLOSET”

It's the small little revenges that are the best.

I wonder how he would feel if he found out. Buuuut I think he didn’t find out, considering...well, let’s just say that closet has seen things. I’m not responsible for that, he did it on his own. I swear.

davidmont replied to your photoset “Look Ross. You’ve made mistakes and we all know that. We all hate you...”

Yikes

Yikes indeed. Deal with your problems, Ross! Don’t just set yourself on fire!

Wait..

Did I just call Sunset “a problem”?

I am officially as bad as our dear buddy Ross. I hate myself.

tiny-tany-thaanos replied to your post “I love Ross as a character but I hate him as a person (if that makes...”

I like him as a character, too! Contraversional characters are the best

Ahhh yes! He was fun and interesting to write and think about. But he’s the worst. I’m not saying he doesn’t have any good character traits, I mean he’s hardworking for sure...but yeah he’s showing his bad side more

wizardofweather1 replied to your post “I love Ross as a character but I hate him as a person (if that makes...”

I Feel Like If His Parents Let Him Be With Caleb Then He Would Be Open About The Alien Baby Then Ross Would Never Have Went And Attempted To Seduce Everyone In Sight And Happier Ending But This Challenge Is This Way

My “theory”/”explanation”/idk how to call it because I’m tired is similar to yours. I’ll try to explain it somehow because honestly...would I miss the opportunity to talk about my characters? Watch out for a super long essay! :D

Let’s take it from the beginning. At first Ross was just kind of this child obsessed with his “cool vampire friend”. He adored him. When he aged up into a teenager, he went and started dating Carol, his classmate and a good friend. They were the same age and knew each other for a while so...yeah. It wasn’t that hard. I don’t think Ross had any romantic feelings for Caleb at that point just yet. Strong feelings, definitely, but not romantic.

Anyway, fast forward to Caleb getting abducted by aliens because I have no self control. I think that even though Caleb liked Ross a lot, they were best friends, they always had a great time and everything, he knew Ross can be shallow and bit of a dick. Which is why he decided to avoid him for a while. That however almost ruined their friendship, as we’ve also seen.

The feelings most likely started changing at the beginning of gen 2 when they started hanging out again - before drifting apart once more when Ross found out about Stella. During those dark high school times, Ross had this mindset that he wanted to date someone, find the “one true love” as one may call it. He didn’t know who exactly he wanted so he just went and tried all his options...but he was looking for something, someone specific. He was missing Caleb, even though he was also mad at him for keeping secrets and not trusting him. Now, I’m not trying to defend Ross. I would never defend him for this. He was confused and he missed Caleb, okay, cool. Well Ross, guess what, you can miss someone but that doesn’t give you the right to date a million people at once.

Ross then tried to move on when things got more serious with Jordan, but something still didn’t feel right, and then there was Marika who only made this indecisivity worse, and then things turned out the way they did. (I actually believe Ross and Jordan could have been in a happy relationship if it wasn’t for her.) And then Ross started talking to Caleb again and boom the feelings were back and even stronger and it was just a matter of time until he finally realized. Basically. As for Caleb’s point of view, well, I think it’s still too soon to talk about that and this is getting long anyway.

I wouldn’t necessarily blame Ross’s parents for all of this, though they obviously play some role in it as well. Let’s be real, Ross was an only child for a long time and a pretty spoiled one...hadn’t he been so spoiled, he would’ve probably grown up to be a better person, Caleb would’ve trusted him et cetera.

Wow, this turned into quite a rambling, I’m sorry. These are the kind of things I think but at the same time don’t think about, it’s more like a feeling, and writing it down, it gets long. Aaand now I definitely didn’t make sense. I hate myself. Don’t let me do this when I should go to bed, I’m really really tired. Why do I do this to myself.

elisabettasims replied to your photoset “Love gets so much more confusing when you actually mean it. I...”

Everybody but you knew, Ross.

Everybody but him...and me. Yeah. I started shipping them around this scene. I didn’t really think about it before that, in fact at that point I didn’t even know what I wanted to do next romance-wise for Ross. Once I was sure I wanted them to get together, I went back to edit the dialogue a little bit, throw a hint here and there...and I realized that I didn’t even have to edit it too much. I already wrote him pretty much like he’s kind of crushing on him without knowing he’s crushing on him. So like...I hate to say it but I’m just as oblivious as him. That’s concerning. Or maybe I just got so into his character, which is just as concerning.

jackssims replied to your photoset “Love gets so much more confusing when you actually mean it. I...”

Idk, Ross, you’re entire life perhaps?

You’re not wrong

I mean, like I said above, those feelings weren’t always romantic but he has always loved him in some way.

jackssims replied to your photoset “Hey. Why did you place that down. You eat that right now.”

I see that frowny face in the tags it better not be what I think it is

Sorry

tiny-tany-thaanos replied to your photoset “nononononono December please can you like maybe go away? Thank you.”

Gosh this is... Unexpected((

jackssims replied to your photoset “December: “Okay what are you trying to do.” Kieran: “I’m trying to say...”

CALLED IT ��

elisabettasims replied to your photoset “December: “Okay what are you trying to do.” Kieran: “I’m trying to say...”

Nooooooooo.

I remember this clearly. I was going to leave the game soon and go to bed and he was like “oh you wanna sleep? me too but I won’t wake up. bye”

elisabettasims replied to your photoset “Oh, yeah. Glad you noticed your husband really is dead.”

It's sadly hilarious sometimes how long it takes it to jump in the queue if they're in the middle of something already.

I hate that. I feel like ts3 is quite the opposite, if something is supposed to cancel everything in the queue, it happens fast. Sims 4 though...

tiny-tany-thaanos replied to your photoset “Persephone made a new friend.”

"Give my best regards to Hades"

This moment was perfect thanks to her name

elisabettasims replied to your photoset “Persephone made a new friend.”

I guess the Grim Reaper is still an animal lover. I loved that about him in TS3. It was one of the few things that made pets dying bearable, the way Grim greeted them with open arms and hugs.

Yes, that was cute! Still though, none of my sims animals has ever died because, well, it’s too sad for me to handle.

Well, actually, spoiler alert - Persephone died, but that was off screen, so that wasn’t as bad.

pxelatedtrash replied to your photoset “December: “I’ll take you to bed, Sunny. I’m so sorry you had to...”

I'm not crying! You're crying! These damn onions

Oh I am crying. I have very sensitive eyes, I cry all the time. (I’m not kidding btw and I hate it)

elisabettasims replied to your photoset “Valentine: “Now he’ll never know…anything. He won’t see me graduate....”

He wouldn't be proud of how you treat your daughter. :D

Of course! Too bad Ross doesn’t see it...yet :D

jackssims replied to your photoset “Watch out Sun- Nevermind.”

The routing in this game really is something else

ikr? It’s like...in TS3, even a minor thing ruins the routing, sim gets stuck, screams, we all know how that goes, but this one...I’m not sure what I prefer to be fair. TS4 makes it all easier but it’s weird

alfalfalegacy replied to your photoset “Why didn’t she come to me for a hug? I mean, I’m her dad after all -...”

Be a better parent for starters, Ross

jackssims replied to your photoset “Why didn’t she come to me for a hug? I mean, I’m her dad after all -...”

Be a better parent? Spend time with your daughter?

elisabettasims replied to your photoset “Why didn’t she come to me for a hug? I mean, I’m her dad after all -...”

Make it up to her!

What a shocker, he now finally sees he sucks, but he doesn’t quite know how to become this “better parent”. Even if it’s so obvious. But then again, this is Ross so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

elisabettasims replied to your photoset “Today is a very special day. A promotion is just around the corner, I...”

Ugh.

jackssims replied to your photoset “Today is a very special day. A promotion is just around the corner, I...”

/Ross/

At least he understands that he should be here for his daughter’s birthday so there’s that I guess...even though he’s clearly not happy about it so...yeah Ross, you’re doing great, this will definitely make you a better parent.

elisabettasims replied to your photoset “Ahh yes, no more crying, she’s growing up. Maybe we’ll get along now....”

Maybe if you weren't such a jerk, Ross.

*Selfish jerk.

jackssims replied to your photoset “Ahh yes, no more crying, she’s growing up. Maybe we’ll get along now....”

//ROSS//

Someone should explain to him that the change won’t happen on its own, he’ll have to take the first step.

tiny-tany-thaanos replied to your photoset

I thought it was Sharon. Pretty indeed!

I’m so obsessed with her even though I don’t really talk about it. She’s fun to write, she looks awesome, I love her relationship with Tyler, the way they tease each other, I could go on forever but that could potentionally mean spoilers so I’ll shut up now. I hate spoiling things.

tiny-tany-thaanos replied to your photoset “She’s beautiful.”

She truly is ❤️❤️❤️

elisabettasims replied to your photoset “She’s beautiful.”

Oh I love her.

Those Breeze genes never fail.

simmering-pancakes replied to your photoset “Today is a very special day. A promotion is just around the corner, I...”

I might fight this boi

Let me help you with that

#replies #jackssims #pxelatedtrash #tiny-tany-thaanos #elisabettasims #davidmont #wizardofweather1 #riversong331 #alfalfalegacy #simmering-pancakes

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garden-ghoul · 6 years

Link

I finally remembered DURING the weekend to record my notes on Sourcery! In this one you can hear me: enjoying doing a Rincewind voice. Clocks in at 19:26 (I’m going to start putting in episode length because it seems like the kind of thing people will like to know.) Transcript under the cut.

HELLO and welcome to episode 4 of what I am now calling “It’s Yelling All the Way Down.” Because it just seemed a bit egotistical to ascribe critical analysis to myself. This week* I’ve drawn the number 5, which means we’re reading Sourcery. With a U. Before reading this book I did not remember a single thing about it except that the main character is perhaps… a sorcerer? And is named Coin. Also according to the summary this is a Rincewind book, the first one since The Light Fantastic. I think he might have died in that one. But no matter, he’s back!

A bit about wizards, before we begin:

We’ve already seen witches, who are my favorites. Pratchett was fond of saying “if men were witches, they would be wizards,” which I think is supposed to be a comment on how men are socialized to be self-important and relatively useless and ask for more credit than they deserve? Although it could just be gender essentialism. Anyway, that’s what wizards do. We very briefly met some in Jingo, where as you might recall they were extorting money from the city-state under threat of magical mayhem. We’ll see more of exactly that in this book! Let’s get right to it.

Now, on Earth (or Roundworld, as it is sometimes called), specifically in England, seven is considered to be a magical number. So much so that whoever perpetrated ROY G BIV (Newton, maybe?) invented several colors just so a rainbow would have seven of them. On the Disc there is an eighth color, inspired by the extra little echoey bit on the inside of a rainbow that is both green AND purple; this color is called octarine. That’s not what the introduction is about, it’s about the eighth son of an eighth son, who of course has become a wizard. But I’m sure it will come up, and then we’ll be prepared, won’t we?

Now this eighth son of an eighth son, he had seven sons, each one from the cradle at least as powerful as any wizard in the world.

And then he had an eighth son...

A wizard squared. A source of magic.

A sourcerer.

We join this double-eight wizard with his young eighth son on the shingle, where he’s having a chat with DEATH. DEATH is a friendly sort. Likes cats. Very little patience with wizards who are trying to create a magical destiny for babies. Because all prophecies require loopholes, the double-eight wizard prophesies that his son will become the mightiest and everyone will bow before him, et cetera et cetera, UNLESS… he throws his staff away. And then the wizard gets struck by lightning and as he dies he puts his soul into the staff. The kid also got struck by lightning but he’s fine. As you may have guessed, this kid is our protagonist, Coin, the sourcerer.

Cut to Unseen University, on the eve of the appointment of a new arch-chancellor. The books in the library are uneasy. The university seems to be sinking. The rats, mice, ants, and even the gargoyles off the roof are abandoning ship. Rincewind and the Librarian seem to be the only wizards who have noticed, although as we are told Rincewind is so bad at wizardry that he’s actually worse than non-wizards. One wonders how he was admitted to the university, because he doesn’t seem rich. Is it just that EVERY eighth son gets in because it makes them A Wizard? Anyway, he’s an assistant librarian (honorary) so he invites the Librarian out for drinks just to get him out of the University.

This means they’re going to miss the arch-chancellor accession feast, which is probably for the best because Coin is going to be there, and you can bet his dad’s been whispering in his ear about what ought to be done to the rest of the wizards who kicked him out. Indeed, he walks right in and challenges the most powerful immediately available wizard to a magical duel, lets him do a party trick, and then vaporizes him. He’s ten, and is set up as a Creepy Child: he stares through people rather than looking at them, talks a bit like an encyclopedia, and clearly hasn’t heard of ethics. The wizards immediately accept him as their arch-chancellor, realizing that it will be incredibly easy to manipulate this kid into doing whatever they want by making him think he has the sort of power that matters.

Lots of good mentions here of how wizards instinctively distrust each other; wizard politics; assassinations; mind games. Nevertheless, two wizards have made a cautious alliance to deal with the threat Coin represents. Spelter, the Bursar and a fifth level wizard; and Carding, an eighth-level wizard (that’s the highest level).

Let us leave them there for a moment to follow the thief who has stolen the arch-chancellor’s hat, which seems to be a talking hat and actually quite keen to be stolen. This thief has tracked down Rincewind, the only readily apparent wizard outside of the university, and is trying to kidnap him for some kind of dangerous wizard mission, under threat of death. The mission is to bring the arch-chancellor’s hat to Klatch, where “there is someone fit to wear us.” There’s a brief misadventure where the hat is stolen, apparently to show off that it can kill people on its own just fine. It’s pretty clear that the hat is full of wizards in the same way Coin’s staff is full of his awful dad, setting us up for a battle of evil and evil: there are plenty of battles in which neither side is correct.

A bit about the thief: her name is Conina, and in my opinion far too much is being made of her looks. She has an apparently hereditary urge to murder, basically a hair trigger with throwing knives, which is unfortunate for her because she wants to be a hairdresser. She can’t see the tools of the trade without imagining doing a murder with them. I was pretty into this whole high fantasy parody thing Pratchett was doing until he started parodying sexist tropes by, uh, just straight up putting sexist tropes in his book. Not his finest hour.

At the university, most of the wizards are enjoying all the extra magic pouring out of Coin. They can do exciting spells now! As soon as Coin starts doing exciting spells, though, they remember they’re afraid of him. He appearifies the Patrician—good old Vetinari, who hasn’t yet been characterized beyond being the sort of person who says “what is the meaning of this?”—and turns him into a lizard. Because wizards should rule the city, you see? Not people who understand politics. Coin has a very ten-year-old understanding of what it means to rule. One imagines him ruling so thoroughly that all he has left is a bunch of lizards and then I’m sure he’d feel rather foolish.

The wizards take their cues from Coin and go out to terrorize the city, and they seem to have a great time. But wizards, like everyone else, fundamentally want certainty and familiarity in their lives. And Coin is scaring them. At this point we start to wonder to what extent Coin’s mind actually is his own, because he’s saying incredibly ominous grown-up things like “who among you has been into your dark library these past few days? The magic is inside you now, not imprisoned between covers. Is that not a joyous thing?” You know, sort of cognitively, one doesn’t expect a ten-year-old either to speak like this or to be this single-minded. It’s worrying. Is he okay? What thoughts does he think?

In the oppressively quiet darkness of night in a university under new rule, Spelter hears someone quietly crying. When he looks into the room Coin is on the bed sobbing while his staff whispers to him. The next day “Coin” announces that they’re going to burn down the library, 90,000 books, many of them sentient. Spelter barely manages to tell the librarian, who’s barricaded in, before he comes across the staff and it vaporizes him.

Let’s see what Conina and Rincewind are up to. Oh, getting attacked by pirates! Conina murders a whole bunch of them but some do make off with the hat, so when they land she decides they ought to go somewhere in port they can get attacked by The Criminal Element. This will allow them to get information or something. Look, Conina just wants to get in a fight, and I can respect that.

I also want to check in with Rincewind because I think the way he’s written is pretty interesting. His psyche seems very uncomplicated: at most times he’s just thinking about how he can avoid getting attacked and get as far away from danger as possible. And being racist about how they don’t do things proper in Al Khali. But we get occasional interjections from his conscience and, now, his libido, which gives the feeling that he works hard to suppress any thoughts he feels are foreign to his lifestyle. Pratchett reinforces this foreignness by portraying them as voices Rincewind doesn’t recognize. He has a suspicion that he’s falling in love, but doesn’t like it. He only has physiological symptoms, as far as I can tell. So we get this picture of a person completely out of tune not only with his body but with his mind as well, who has worn such a deep psychological groove of habit that he can’t conceive of climbing out of it.

Anyway, Conina and Rincewind are kidnapped by the ruler of the city, who is called a Seriph because heaven forbid Sir Terry let any small detail go un-pastiched. The Seriph’s grand vizier has possession of the arch-chancellor’s hat and is aware that it’s dangerous, because it told him. Also he’s evil, because a grand vizier’s got to be evil. He imprisons our heroes I guess, but very shortly afterward the amount of ambient magic skyrockets and there are a ton of wizards from Unseen University there! Halfway across the Disc! The vizier turns up, having had his mind taken over by the arch-chancellor’s hat and declaring that wizards are taking back what’s theirs from sourcerers. I like this, we have two opposing magical forces, both figureheaded by humas but in fact ruled by inanimate objects with echoes of dead minds inside.

And, yes, just a few pages later Rincewind states one of the major themes of the book!

“That’s what you people never understand,” said Rincewind, wearily. “You think magic is just something you can pick up and use, but the truth is, magic uses people. It affects you as much as you affect it, sort of thing. You can’t mess around with magical things without it affecting you.”

After hearing so much about the thousand-year, horrifyingly destructive Mage Wars, it’s pretty clear that magic isn’t just magic here. Any kind of power corrupts, and if in this book it happens to corrupt not because of human nature but because of its own malice—well, that’s metaphors for you. Anyway Rincewind and company escape on a magic flying carpet, which is using him as a conduit to fly itself, per usual.

Then we get this honestly really cool scene where the fleeing heroes are camped out on a beach watching spells streaking across the sky like meteors over the Circle Sea: the hat’s tower in Al Khali doing battle with Coin’s tower in Ankh. Shockwaves ripple across them, and in his sleep Rincewind is trying to build a tower, which seems to be some kind of wizardly instinct. As soon as he can he steals the flying carpet and absent-mindedly heads for Ankh-Morpork because he thinks of it as his home base. Over the ocean we see other wizards’ towers springing up everywhere: they’re all joining in the war. I love this sort of distant apocalypse imagery, the contrast between the peace of a totally uninhabited area and the massive devastation that from far away looks kind of pretty. Here at the end of all things.

Rincewind returns to a city totally unlike the one he left: gleaming white marble, fountains, and not a single soul. Smoke boils up from the university’s tower, which is slagged and melted but still firing off terrifying magic at the tower in the next city-state over. And the library, where Rincewind spent a lot of very happily boring time as an assistant librarian, lies in ashes. Rincewind goes into the tower. The flashes of magic illuminate the librarian and many of his 90,000 books, which flew in to take shelter when the library burned. He tells Rincewind to put a stop to all this sourcery, seeing as Rincewind seems to be the only other wizard who hasn’t gone mad with power (the reason being, he hasn’t got any). And obviously the librarian has his books to tend to. So Rincewind puts a half-brick in a sock and starts up the tower.

In the top of the tower the Ankh wizards defeat Quirm, and then when the hat is momentarily distracted, they defeat Al Khali too. But Coin is still an open doorway through which magic pours into the world. “Can you hear them?” asks Carding. “You’re pouring sourcery into the world and other things are coming with it.” I have always liked this image, of a great number of terrible things just barely compelled to stay outside of the circle of the universe, and being invited in when too much magic is used. For a moment the staff is indisposed horribly murdering Carding and Coin is uncertain, upset that a man is dead. Then it returns to his hands and he says: let’s fight the gods. I was expecting it to be a bit more of a thing but he settles it in about a paragraph: we’ll just put them inside this bubble, there we are. Just then Rincewind staggers up over the edge of the tower, swinging his half-brick. His exchange with Coin is… absolutely delightful. They’re at exact opposite ends of the wizard spectrum.

“I have come,” said Rincewind thickly, “to challenge the sourcerer. Which one is he?” He surveyed the prostrate wizardry, hefting the half-brick in one hand.

One of the wizards risked a glance upwards and made frantic eyebrow movements at Rincewind who, even at the best of times, wasn’t much good at interpreting non-verbal communication. This wasn’t the best of times.

“With a sock?” said Coin. “What good is a sock?”

The arm holding the staff rose. Coin looked down at it in mild astonishment. “No, stop,” he said. “I want to talk to this man.” He stared at Rincewind, who was swaying back and forth under the influence of sleeplessness, horror and the after-effects of an adrenaline overdose. “Is it magical?” he said, curiously. “Perhaps it is the sock of an Archchancellor? A sock of force?”

Rincewind focused on it. “I don’t think so,” he said. “I think I bought it in a shop or something. Um. I’ve got another one somewhere.”

“But in the end it has something heavy?”

“Um. Yes,” said Rincewind. He added, “It’s a half-brick.”

“But it has great power.”

“Er. You can hold things up with it. If you had another one, you’d have a brick.” Rincewind spoke slowly. He was assimilating the situation by a kind of awful osmosis, and watching the staff turn ominously in the boy’s hand.

“So. It is a brick of ordinariness, within a sock. The whole becoming a weapon.”

“Um. Yes.”

“How does it work?”

“Um. You swing it, and then you. Hit something with it.”

The staff tells Coin to kill Rincewind, but Coin is hesitant, because Rincewind looks like “an angry rabbit,” and is probably harmless. “Why should I do everything you tell me?” says Coin to the staff. “I always do everything you tell me, and it doesn’t help people at all.” Basically it’s like asking a kid to murder a clown. He’s so funny! Why should I kill him!

The staff tortures him a bit. Might I remind you: his ten-year-old son. Rincewind thinks this is a bit much and whacks the staff out of his hand with the half-brick-in-sock. He actually steps in front of Coin to defend him from the staff, even though bravery and altruism are really not his thing. And Coin catches the staff, and throws it away. It comes back, of course, and they do battle. All the wizards are terrified, and Rincewind looks around accusingly at the wizards who won’t help this ten-year-old fighting for his life and the fate of reality itself. All we see of Rincewind’s intervention is his seared hat floating gently to the ground.

He and Coin wake up on the cold black sand of the Dungeon Dimension, staring at the backs of the Things that are trying to break into the universe. The staff has been melted and Rincewind decides to be a real hero one more time and attack the Things with a sock full of sand as a distraction so Coin can get out of there. Which he does. And then the door closes, and Rincewind is stuck in the Dungeon Dimension. We’ll see him again later, don’t worry.

As a minor footnote, the apocalypse is happening out there. It’s a Norse-style apocalypse: the gods have vanished, so ice giants are taking over the world. The librarian gets the pearl full of all the gods and sort of throws it and they come out and reverse the apocalypse, I guess. And then Coin undoes everything he did, and I THINK he also erases everyone’s memory of the very brief Mage War. And because he’s lost and alone and doesn’t know what he wants at all… he steps out of the universe, into a simpler, nicer one. A small universe with a garden. And the door closes behind him.

The book ends in the library, where the books have come back to roost and it’s warm and quiet. The librarian has put Rincewind’s hat in a minor ceremonial niche, because “a wizard will ALWAYS come back for his hat.” Listen, I think the librarian might be a bit sweet on Rincewind. It’s very cute.

So, thus ends the book! This one doesn’t have a whole lot of themes since the main purpose of it is to be a fun fantasy adventure with an absolutely kicking climax. I’d say the main one is that Sir Terry vastly prefers consistency to excitement and that war is bad. Oh, hey, that’s a lot like the last one, isn’t it? And there’s also a bit of a warning about how allowing yourself to have power is always a very dangerous balancing game. Humans always have to be careful not to forget how dangerous it is to have power, and how the only way to use it even a little bit well is to think scrupulously of the masses of normal people your actions affect. I feel like he’d agree with my (rather unwilling) stance on Ethical Anxiety. Which is to say, he might understand why I am constantly extremely anxious about taking ethical actions.

Today’s thought, Shabbat shalom, is to ask yourself how you are using the power you have, and ask yourself where you get your ethics: your parents? Your friends? The news? Which news? That’s all for now. This has been It’s Yelling All the Way Down, intro and end music is TOKiMONSTA’s “Hungry Stomach.” Bye!

#discworld #audio #it's yelling all the way down

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